Tall Tales: The Nymphs' Symphony (Scott T Beith's Tall Tales Saga Book 1)

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Tall Tales: The Nymphs' Symphony (Scott T Beith's Tall Tales Saga Book 1) Page 10

by Scott Beith


  “Hey, Arlo, stop for a second. I want to apologise for what I said before,” I called out to him, quickening slightly to catch up to him as I stretched out to put a hand on his shoulder and suck up what little was left of my own pride. I was glad, but nervous, to take the hard first step in reopening the conversation between the prince and me.

  Thankfully, he stopped immediately and we stood beside a beach post, giving me the opportunity to make amends, but he spoke before I could. “Just think nothing of it, ok?” he said, offering a brief comforting smile to end all hostility. “I’m not mad at you for speaking your mind, and if I hadn’t been so arrogant at the time, I would have apologised about it earlier,” he then blurted out, surprising me with his own peaceful accords.

  He shook his head slightly before talking, a sign of being disappointed in himself. “It might not come across, but I really do respect you. You know that, right?” he then proceeded to say.

  I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head, surprised by his words, but both intrigued and eager for him to continue with them.

  “You’ve shown more courage today than most nymphs ever will in their lives… and I don’t mean out here,” he maintained as he pointed back the way we’d come from. “You speak up when it counts the most.” Dusting the sandy post with his palm as he said his peace, distracting himself as he tried to speak from the heart. “You’re one of the few who would rather tell ugly truths than beautiful lies, which means your advice is virtually the only kind I should actually be listening to.”

  “That’s really nice of you to say,” I replied sincerely and immediately back. “I’m actually shocked,” I teased, walking side by side with him as we started back on our journey.

  “Well, I didn’t mean to be pleasant about it,” he joked. “Honestly, though, maybe there could be a position for you in the courts – we should probably have at least one pacifist in the war council,” he quipped, smirking while I took his words to heart. Caught thinking for the first time ever that, maybe under his rule, I could rise the ranks and do something more valued. After all, Anara was almost seventeen now, and me nearer to twenty; how much longer was she going to require a maid and a babysitter for?

  Arlo and I were back on the main road. We passed the prestigious Lorelei Lake: a large lagoon with crystal bayside waters and magnificent statues depicting the infamous Lorlei Lady, a mermaid who was once said to have enchanted the lake with the gift of rebirth. She was said to be one of the first ancient wisp guardians, and rumoured to ferry lost soldiers back home to the ones they loved most. It was said she was unfortunate enough to have lost her great love to the ocean and was now just known as an enchantress devoted to restoring lost love.

  “Maybe we could go through the lake?” I suggested, thinking it would be quicker than going all the way around it.

  “Yeah, I think you’re right,” he said, weighing up the distance it would take to walk past the sizeable beach side lagoon entrance and around. “But not by swimming it,” he added, walking towards a tree. There was a picnic table beside it. I sat down at it while he circled its closest pine tree, devising a plan. “We can run the river avernus out along the shore and then walk the rest of the coast straight to Ambervale Cove,” he suggested.

  “How long would it take to make a raft?”

  “Quicker than it’ll take me to make the oars,” he witted as he felt the curvature of the barky tree. Capable of raising his two-handed sword with just one arm and slicing a large oval-shaped barky strap neatly off the tree with a single and skilful curved skinning swing. It was a perfect floatable size in one precise slice, thudding onto the dirt surrounding the tree before us both. “But I’ll just use my sword for that.” He then grinned cheekily, content with his fair sized makeshift raft. Dragging it down to the lake and resting it in the water, checking it for buoyancy. “Hop on,” he said to me.

  “So I can test it first?” I laughed, going over there.

  “Well, you’re lighter,” he then jokingly remarked back as I took his hand and hopped in slowly, sinking down into the raft, shuffling to the front of the bouncing craft as it accepted my weight without any leak or issue.

  Worried as he shook the thin barky canoe, attempting to slowly nestle himself down into it. One long narrow sword was all we had to push against the land as we drifted away from it.

  Following the lake’s long and wide dividing rivers towards the other side of the beachfront, passing by statue after statue of the beautiful Lorelei Lady. To rural folk, she was the goddess of the dawn: an angel offering safe passage to all who travelled over her waters. It was widely believed that during the day, she kept the waves calm and the water clear so that no creature could enter this safe domain without her notice.

  It was also said, however, that when nightfall struck, her mood would turn violently sour and that she reverted all of the river passages to flow backwards in one strong upstream upheaval towards her, blindly pulling the seas and ships towards the middle island of this lake. A small cove with water that glowed a magical and alluring red and blue, attracting anything hidden under the fog to show itself before her.

  The lair where the Lorelei Lady eternally resides, forever waiting to bring her lost love back to her, and enslave anyone she calls to that isn’t the man she lost. It was an old wives’ tale, of course, but was widely believed by the rural folk.

  The lake was supposed to be a mystical place of great romance and despair, depending primarily on what time you arrived. This was my first time seeing it, and I can’t say I felt any distinct vibe, but, all the same, I didn’t want to be stranded here in case of another eclipse.

  For a long time, we saw nothing but orchids, flat green grass and calm open bushland around us. We sailed for almost an hour at peace, slowly watching the river reflect the crystal blue water of a beautiful and sunny azure sky. Our scenery diverted from dense wilderness to palms, ravines and a gentle current of rippling ocean waves from all the other branching rivers that slowly drifted us back out towards the coast.

  The tropical heat was holding strong as we gently rocked and swayed along the shallow waters with the wind. I waved my hand through the water every so often, as my own simple way of trying to keep cool.

  “What?” The prince smirked at me, sweating as he sat at the back, using his sword as a master paddle’s man, switching it from side to side.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted to him cheerfully, enjoying the gentle ride. “It’s much nicer watching someone else do all the work, I see why your family do it,” I then teased, putting my feet on his knees and lying down. “So wake me up when we get there, yeah?” I joked, closing my eyes, feigning falling asleep.

  Laying there for a good twenty minutes before I was suddenly flipped into the water. My head tipping right under the lake’s surface. Arlo standing above me, laughing as he stood in the shallows smiling with amusement, having intentionally rolled the raft to the point of its capsize. “We’re here,” he said. “You awake?” He then snickered, offering a hand to help me up.

  I yanked him down with me, drenching him as well for payback. It was all a bit of dumb fun, a refreshing change after being stuck in the still heat for most of the day, splashing and pushing each other for a bit before finally making it out of those shallows.

  We had made it to the other side of the lake where countless king fiddler crabs patrolled past us along Ambervale Cove’s narrowly ascending coastline, heading inwards into the open cave inlet that helped fortify Ambervale’s coastal village. These crabs were as large as trees, with bright red pincers much bigger than Arlo and me, and strong enough to slice us in half, should the crabs choose to. But after everything we had endured over the last day and night, we weren’t intimidated in the slightest by any of them, instead just acting like locals as we boldly weaved our way through them and entered into the village through the mountain overhang of the huge gated community before us.

  My thoughts immediately drifted to Ebony and Ariss, who would have returned to th
e castle and reported us missing in action. I imagined how things would have played out last night. The courtroom would have been packed with nobles and everyday citizens as Akoni demonstrated his newest portable flaring guns, artificially brightening the dimly lit courtroom with tiny sparkles and fireworks. Camilla would have been watching her clever son so proudly, blissfully unaware of the troubling news about to besiege her.

  King Helios would have been sitting on his throne beside his warrior queen, complementing Akoni and telling everyone in the courtroom how inspirational and crucial Akoni was to the research being done on fixing the Sunspire, and how any day now this nerdy brainiac would be knighted because of it.

  I could imagine the shock in everybody’s eyes when Lord Ariss barged into that courtroom with an injured Ebony hanging over his shoulder. Ebony’s father rushing over to treat her while Ariss delivered the crushing announcement that Arlo had been killed or captured. Milena’s sudden outburst as she ordered all legions under her command to sweep that area dry. Personally entering the eclipse for a violent battle just to vent her untameable rage and retribution upon the gnolls.

  Arlo and I entered the bright gravel pillars of Ambarvale, walking across the large docks of the quiet entrance cove that had been prepared for siege. The streets mostly empty, spotted with bonfires and dumped sand bags. The majority of these inhabitants clearly preparing for the next approaching dusk. A few rural village girls wandered about, all stopping to stare wildly in disbelief as we made our slow approach. They blushed and dropped things, unable to restrain their eyes from looking at their handsome prince.

  He was unmistakable in appearance, even to those who had never seen him before, with Arlo giving off a royal vibe that lured girl’s eyes long before they noticed his knightly armour. Arlo remained polite but disinterested to all the girls curtseying at him as we embarked through their humble small beach town, towards its greatly unpopulated market centre.

  Even the men were caught admiring. One scrawny thin farmer happy enough to push his heavy food cart uphill just so we wouldn’t have to walk a few inches around it. This time, villagers all looking at us like angels sent down from the cloud city realm way up above in order to save them from the horrors that had befallen this poor peaceful town, due to the most recent cloud-covered eclipse. When, in reality, all we had come for was to find the princess and return back to the impenetrable safety of The Capital’s thick cliff face and monstrous sandstone walls.

  We stopped near a villa in the centre of town, considering where to go onwards from there. We checked the rest of this empty marketplace before heading towards a boarded up tavern inn, preparing to merely give up and call it a day. Before taking one last chance to look around. There was only one labourer left to talk to: an old weary blacksmith and his run down small rusty shack. We asked him for a little assistance in helping us find the princess.

  “Have you seen my sister?” Arlo said to the man, naturally assuming the blacksmith knew who he was.

  The blacksmith pointing his hammer uphill, to a huge house overlooking the town. It was an enormous villa similar to our royal palace, although hardly as decorative. A place made mostly of wood, brick and clay. An old-fashioned house for an old-fashioned town. Out here, they didn’t have spiders to weave their defences. Just wild and untrained crabs that resided in this cove. These large creatures, with no noticeable intelligence or organization, were just beasts that simply attacked anything that threatened them. It was hardly the symbiotic relationship most nymphs had with their native hosts. The crabs considering us as friendlies simply because we weren’t food for them or them for us. It was such a fragile alliance; one where there was always the threat of these village’s ‘protectors’ turning on them, should one silly person be stupid enough to make any one of them enraged.

  7

  Odyssey

  “This must be the mayor’s house,” the prince said, passing through the beach villa’s high-rise gates as we headed uphill towards the sandy main house of this cove’s tallest peak.

  We saw a frail old man waiting outside the stylish summer house retreat in a filthy, but high fashioned, red spa-robe while he talked to furiously to himself. A strong discoloured expression upon his weary grey-bearded face, resembling that of another exhausted labourer after a long hot day of back-breaking work.

  I kept behind Arlo as we slowly approached this man.

  “Greetings,” Arlo called to him.

  The sad man’s face lit up almost immediately with a pleasing smile. “I was starting to think the crown had abandoned us,” he said gleefully towards us, collecting what little energy he had left to wobble over and humbly shake the prince’s hand. “My name… is Ruben… I’m the mayor of this town,” he puffed out as Arlo and I smiled politely. “Welcome to Ambarvale, I guess.” He greeted us with a short stifled bow – the most formal form of courtesies he could deliver. “At this point, I was not expecting to see any relief come at all, let alone the prince himself,” he continued, having caught his breath back. “Thank you for coming. I’m honoured to have you come here yourself.”

  Being both puzzled and impatient, the prince said, “If I may ask, what sort of support do you currently require the most?” He was careful to avoid accidentally offending the man on what, I suspect, must have been a terrible day for him.

  The mayor became flustered by our ignorance of his plight, bluntly responding, “Medical aid, my lord. All the village’s defenders were wounded in the last reoccurrence of night… They’ve attacked us in waves – each night has been worse than the last,” he quickly vented, his patience wearing thin the more he had to explain his situation to us. “Your majesty… I…” he panted, his exhaustion temporarily relapsing, “I requested reinforcements more than two dusks ago, why has it taken this long to receive a response?”

  Arlo and I shared a grim look of concern that his call for reinforcements had never been answered. A terrible neglect on our kingdom’s part, and something that made us feel guilty and awkward as we now had to inform him of the real reason we were sent here.

  “I am truly sorry for what has befallen your people,” Arlo said sympathetically to the old man, pausing before he delicately decided to press onwards, “but I’m afraid we have not been sent here to supply reinforcements. We are here on other, more personal, matters.”

  “You’re kidding me, right?” the man madly vented. “This is a joke. Every guard I had defending my town’s walls is now in my house in need of aid, and the two of you have come all this way simply to offer your deepest condolences about that?” he snarled, looking out towards the ocean in unquenchable frustration.

  “Sir, we came out here because the princess has run off. We fear she might have been caught in one of the eclipses somewhere along the way here and may still be in very serious danger, have you seen her at all?” I butted in to inform him, trying to sound as respectful as I could.

  The mayor looked back at us and our whole predicament with even more confusion. Turning his head to the side again, ready to speak about it when a female voice spoke up from the direction he was staring. “You’re both so dramatic. It’s not like I was in any real danger,” the sweet young voice said, manifesting somewhere out from the vacant empty beach breeze of this mansion’s front porch. Our rebellious princess emerged from her superb camouflage just beside the three of us, uncloaking herself from an immaculate form of see-through transparency. Flesh turning from scales to skin as it all reverted from a glossy crystal camouflage back into the short blue and white dress she chose to wear out the other day.

  She had disguised herself perfectly with the curvature of the cliff and its oscillating background of ocean and waves, reappearing only a short step from where the mayor, Arlo and I were. All our eyes widening in surprise as they turned towards her prismatic appearance. A reaction she often received because of her amazing skills in hiding.

  She was a tiny teenage troublemaker. A little lord of lies and a witch of infinite whispers, having been a strong
voice to the throne at a very young age. She was a passionate and devious diplomat. Always sneaking around and using covert tactics to persuasively strongarm trade relations without the use of violence and conflict.

  She was a true maiden of mercy, she could always find a peaceful way out of a tight situation, and was notorious for disputing her mother’s unjust rulings and using devilishly cunning deceptions in order to force a balanced compromise where none existed. A true jack of all travels, tricks and trades. She was the kind of girl who was always aware of exactly where she needed to be, and at exactly what time to be there.

  Even outside of her camouflage, she was a naturally mischievous spy with ears to every room. Being able to blend in effortlessly with crowds, despite a youthful and innocent face. She had a look one could only compare with diamonds and fine elegant glass sculptures. Greatly symbolised by the thin crystalline tiara that always inconspicuously rested on top of her radiant long blonde hair.

  “Hey, lovely.” She grinned cheekily at me as she came over and gave me a hug. I hugged her back tightly, double checking she was really there. “Well, you picked a hell of a day to leave the castle’s walls,” she joked, trying to make light of our very bleak situation.

  I eyed her up and down to make sure she was unhurt. She didn’t have so much as a smudge or scratch on her; other than say three or four small rips and tears to her dress, she looked exactly the same as the last time I’d seen her. Despite the trauma, she still possessed the same prettiness and cocky charm that could cause unsuspecting men to stumble when they saw her – or in the standard case of obnoxious knights, kneel and propose flamboyantly. Her stunning looks serving as much a blessing as they were a curse.

  See, all the sweet sincere men she came across tended to avoid her like she were plagued, feeling too intimidated, or perhaps too unworthy of her favour, to ever go any further than politely introducing themselves. But ironically, this only ever left her vulnerable to the wealthy unmannered noblemen who always tried to bully her with their friendships and attempt to satisfy their own self-centred ambitions to command and conquer this world through the title she could potentially deliver to them.

 

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