by Scott Beith
“You almost sound as though you know someone who could do better,” I assertively then asked towards him, the conversation becoming most real to me right then and there, seeing as the very way he seemed to talk was quite evident of someone who was once loyal to Midas… Or perhaps even still loyal today.
“And don’t say yourself,” Jax cut in, making us all briefly laugh as he once again tried to mediate this debate to ensure such politics weren’t going to create offence to anyone here.
“Of course not,” he ridiculed.
“But right off the top of my head, there is one person I think still could… The ex-king they first got rid of,” he passionately divulged.
“There was no Borderlands before Midas came along. Our entire society was a sinking ship before he went around uniting the main tribes with all of his clever machines and devices. And although no one dares even talk about it anymore, the crown has been falling apart ever since his exile. I mean it only took four years after he left for the war with the gnoll tribes to start,” he stated.
“Yeah, his war,” Anara finally sniped, unable to keep out of the discussion any longer.
“How sure are you about that?” Axel pressed, a small sense of attachment in his tone. A new certain level of seriousness in all of our eyes. The sudden realisation we were fraternising with the enemy.
“Fairly certain,” I replied to a stillness lingering all across the table.
“I think the world is a bigger place than you two girls realise,” Axel then remarked. “But I’ll tell you one thing,” he continued, leaning forward, as if about to dazzle us with some grand secret. His passion for being insightful and dramatic giving him a certain thrill as the tension seemed to ease into a sense of curiosity rather than threat and foreseeable calamity. “So, rumour out here has it that Midas’s son is still alive and lives in the kingdom. A nobody without any name or title, but someone around the right age who is just as smart and talented as his father ever was, which would make him the fittest leader to rule the kingdom in his father’s stead… So really, the only true hope The Borderlands has relies on some nervous little dweeb coming out from the shadows and having the balls to challenge the next king in order to reclaim his rightful place on the throne,” he announced, the lot of us sinking back into our seats as silence brewed again. Pretending that were processing his ‘insightful’ understanding of current worldly events.
“Do you think you will sing tonight?” Jax asked Anara quite strangely out of the blue. “Axel told me you’re one of the best he’s ever seen,” he stated graciously, trying to change the dimming mood. Breaking the quietness that slowly ensued while Anara and I both took the silence to scout out the board above the bar that had the current dinner menu on top of it.
I was a little surprised to learn Anara had once got herself up on the stage by the bar and had done such a daunting thing as sing to a crowd of strangers before; although I wasn’t exactly sure why I thought it was strange, considering it seemed like a pretty brave and standard thing for her to do.
“Come on, Anna, please,” Axel pleaded.
“Oh yes, Anna, please do,” I impulsively added on top of the two boys’ pleas, looking to her with a mix of both fear and amusement about the prospect of seeing her do something so courageous.
“You’re so much better than all these pretenders,” Axel proclaimed. “Have you heard her sing before?” Axel then asked, turning to me.
“Uh, no, not in a crowded place like this place.”
“Well, I hope you get a chance to, because there is nowhere else like this,” Jax proudly said. “This is where all the entertainers come to pay homage to our aquatic ancestors,” he said in both historical and religious education.
I had never heard of it myself, but what he was saying did make a lot of sense. Much of The Hotel Capricorn complex I had seen so far was built to look like an ancient siren temple. It was clear that music, song and dance were big deals here, as it was a place of all races and cultures to congregate together without prejudice.
A centre stage for all of the most talented musicians to broadcast themselves and spiritually pay tribute to the forefathers that dared leave the ocean and adapt to live upon the land as the forest nymph sprites we are today. After all, for a dark pirate cavern, there was also a sense of spiritual enlightenment that seemed to link this place with the species before us, the concept that song could once again be used as a tool to master the art of persuading one’s mood and mind.
It was a privilege to be shown this place as, based on Anara’s smiles about my wonder of this place, I could tell she really wanted to take me here and show me all the places she had already seen and been to herself. Making more and more sense why all these barmaids and young waitresses came to work here through the night. They were all part-time singers coming here to fulfil a lifelong achievement worthy of the danger and travel. To stare out before all the drones and grunts in the crowd and pay homage to the forerunners that made us, by trying to relearn how mermaids used to lure their myrmidons inwards in order to turn them into their slaves.
Before long we had already finished eating, midnight far upon us as time seemed to roll on without measure or control, the vibe in this place being both enthralling and timeless as, in but a few hours, the four of us grew quite comfortable with each other and other strangers’ company.
We’d eaten dinner and got up to refill our cups and take bathroom breaks. Anara, the cheeky devil, had walked off to greet staff she knew from her previous travels. I watched her even steal a dancing man’s hat from his head, asking to keep it for the rest of the night, just so I would stop worrying that someone might eventually recognise her.
Jax and I idly chatted the later the night got, the rowdiness of the bar seeming only ever increasing. By the time I got to talk to him one on one, we had to shout just to be heard over the background noises. Some arguments at corner tables beside us eventually turning into brawls, causing us to occasionally duck to avoid being hit by flying glasses and pirate boots.
I realised the environment had become way too dangerous for the princess and me to remain in, but I was enjoying myself and simply wanted to stay a little bit longer.
“So what did you two mean before by ‘the dance’?” I asked Jax curiously as Anara returned to the table with a fresh glass of honey and some garlic spiced bread.
“You really don’t know?” he excitedly responded. “See, the hornets that live here can’t talk to us, but they can communicate in other nonverbal ways – mostly just through suggestion or ‘dance’,” he explained. “And, we’re all experts of dance here,” he boasted.
“Really?” I asked, amazed by it all.
“Well, most of us – some also just pretend,” he joked, pointing to his oafish colleague as he spilled his drink, toppling over other patrons while dancing near the bar, scaring off all the waitresses and female patrons he had in his sight. “It takes years to actually understand the patterns, but once you do, you can hear the hornets’ stories, as if they were singing them right there to you,” he elaborated with a cool wonder and confidence to his tone.
“Wow,” I said, genuinely impressed, “That’s amazing!” I said in compliment, truly amazed with both him and his townsfolk.
The night continued with laughter, cheer and joyful tears. Nymphs shouted toasts to their friends in celebration as drunkards jumped onto tables to convey their brotherly love for one another. Before long, I was in the centre of the crowd chanting and singing each segment of their beloved sea shanties no different than all the other rowdy locals had been doing since the start of the night.
The bar floor came to life with dance. I began to trust the strangers that sat either side of me and took a leaf out of Anara’s book: trying to fit in rather than stand out, realising how much friendliness protects you when you are so far out of your comfort zone. It was a big step for me, but I started approaching strangers and talking with them, feeling as though I was now a rightful member of this bar.
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This place brought out in me a thrill for fun, and a sense of freedom that I had long since lived without. I had not forgotten the dangers of the real world as, for the first time ever, I was able to put my fears aside rather than let them rule over me and make all of my decisions for me.
Overcome with an empowering new confidence, I sat alongside a young waitress as she and a few other nymphs pleaded with Anara to get up on the side stage bar. I cheered along with everyone else as she jumped up to sing. Normally, I would have shaken my head in disapproval, but I didn’t want to be a buzzkill anymore – nor draw attention to myself by being the one person arguing against the crowd.
The bar quietened down as Anara began to sing a softer sea shanty, backed by a pianist and harp players. It was a song about a sailor that had been sung time and time again by men earlier, but Anara made it her own, changing its mood and meaning by being the very first woman to sing the tune, altering the story to something of her own making. Her talent was nothing short of miraculous, a true natural entertainer.
The whole tavern began to sing with her, while banging their mugs on the table to create a progressively increasing beat:
We were stranded, left out all alone
This damned crew, another dark cove
in deep waters, the tide rose, the reefs enclosed
So far from anything
oh, I never thought you would know...
and if only I knew
what this would one day bestow... ...
you loved me,
yet into another I dove…
So I’m sorry. So sorry
for what was never meant to be
but that rhythm, that melody
that nymph and her symphony
so slowly taking hold of me.
So I’m sorry. So sorry
for making you believe in me
But that rhythm, that harmony
that heavy heart calling out to me
... The recipe for this catastrophe.
It was beautiful and resonating. That one chorus I had heard countless times before, suddenly became a life changing story now that it had been sung by Anara in her own clever and unique way. The song itself was a remorseful recount of wrongdoing. An ancient tale of love lost through sin and the unachievable atonement that comes from seeking true forgiveness.
A song of a siren who enslaved a man’s free will with an echoing cry, powerlessly enthralling him and forcing him away from the woman he loved. An old wives’ tale that spoke of the powers our sea-nymph ancestors who lived under the sea long ago once possessed.
At least that’s how I’d always interpreted it to be. But now, after hearing Anara’s version, I realised nothing could have been further from that truth. The song was more detailed than that. It wasn’t mindless music or a melodramatic fable. It was a metaphor about the failure to admit fault in one’s own character. An epiphany over the inability to resist temptation. And almost an apology from someone seeking forgiveness after sensing something unspeakably wrong within themselves, and yet not having the willpower or strength to stand up and stop it before it became too late. The morality of one’s inner vulnerability and the weakness that drives one’s soul into losing their self-worth and integrity.
The ballad made me think about Arlo, and how he’d chosen someone else over me. A girl he most likely loved, and, if I was to try and contest their union – to ruin what they had because of my envy – I would be no different to the siren who took a man’s freewill away from him.
Immersed among the fanatic crowd, who were all still mesmerised by the talented young singer, I began to shake off the philosophical spell entrancing me, remembering the risk of where we were and deciding it was best if we left soon and returned to the safety of our cheap desert hotel.
But, for that moment, I was lost from reality, all the way up until it was too late. It was bad enough Anara had allowed her hat to come off – the only thing hiding her identity after she’d pulled down her hood – but with an exposed face to the crowd, her quick attempt to bend down and pick up the hat allowed the tiara, which had been tucked away in her coat, to slowly slip and fall upon the sticky drink-stained floor.
In a panic, I rushed to retrieve it, swiping it up as Anara finished her dance and got down from the stage. Everyone clapped and celebrated her performance, just as I was amazed that no one seemed to have noticed what had fallen to the floor, having being too preoccupied with Anara and her antics.
I noticed two cloaked smugglers looking towards the princess and me, trying to depict if she was who they thought she was – the queen’s treasured daughter.
These two smugglers took a long glance towards Anara, clearly recognising her face as she tried to carelessly spin in dance along with the whole entourage of pirate fans coaching her on. We were blundered by the upbeat rhythm circling around us like a cage. I quickly but subtly grabbed her and yanked her away, hoping smugglers might leave us alone if we simply walked away from them.
I pointed and illustrated to her that we were in danger as I escorted her back to the booth to get our stuff. I saw the smugglers pushing through the crowd towards us and quickened my pace. Anara’s hand slipped from mine and I turned back.
One of the men appeared in front of me as the other blocked me from behind. “Where is she?” the smuggler in front of me demanded, breathing on my neck while exposing his broken and disgusting stained teeth. The men bumping me against another even bigger man who was blissfully dancing. I was about to ask that dancing man for help when he was suddenly punched forwards by an invisible patron, while the smuggler in front of me had his hand yanked into the air and had it forced into a fist.
And just like that, the devious princess sparked a bar fight, turning happy dancers into brawlers – nymphs of short fuses being very easy to manipulate, as her and I avoided the aimless punches being thrown about by the crowd. Soon dodging chairs and bottles being hurled.
Everyone was too distracted with fighting to notice us slip back to our booth, where we quickly went to find Jax and Axel, believing they were still there.
“I know you,” another aggressor indicated from behind me, speaking in a clearly ominous type of reform.
“Sit!” another demanded, discreetly revealing a knife tucked in his belt.
Hands up, my pulse was jolting in a stiff surrendering danger. Anara realising her mistake as she could very well disappear but it would mean leaving me here, cornered, with no ability for joint escape.
Anara and I were trapped, stuck stranded in the same booth seat with no obvious way out. Jax and Axel were out of sight as it was still simply too loud and chaotic for us to call out for them. A large group of five aggressors moved to sit down and, in my fright, I reacted. A tall thin shadow image of each smuggler appearing right before them, stealing the available seats. My mystics having been subconsciously activated again. Half a dozen strong reflective shadow soldiers were suddenly there at our defence, just sitting and staring at the smugglers with their ghostly and faceless dark visages.
“We’re full!” I growled.
The scare tactic working better than I would have thought, with the five of them jolting backwards, cowering from the table.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end of it. Now everyone in the bar was staring blankly at us, with the bar brawl having ended in an instant silence. They were all looking to me and only me. As if I were a witch in need of burning.
Axel and Jax pushed past everyone to get to us. “We got to go!” Axel yelled, grabbing Anara and me and racing us towards the exit, everyone moving their heads as they sat still in silent watch of us, every patron too stunned to move. Jax and Axel having to shuffle us past a couple of them as we went up the stairs and out the door back into the underwater themed platform level.
Anara then broke through Axel’s hand grip so she could storm back in to face the crowd all alone for one last word. “I’m keeping your hat!” she then shouted in a stubborn childish pout, a sentence that would
have been a lot lighter and comical if it were not for the obvious danger we still faced at the present time.
“Don’t do that again,” Jax voiced cautiously to me as he ushered us quickly around corners, heading towards the sub-basement’s next level of stone stairs.
“What did I do?” I asked, scared and confused.
“Nothing… It’s just a real bad omen out here ok – people already have enough reasons to fear the dark,” he added while him and Axel continued to escort us down into the sandy tier level and towards The Valley of Kings sand track.
“What’s so wrong with it though?” I asked Jax, only moments later.
“They’re just superstitious is all, Kya,” he replied, still pacing us away from the bar.
“Don’t sugar-coat it for her,” then said his blunt but honest friend, overhearing us. “Shadow casting is the devil’s gift – everyone knows that,” Axel then enlightened towards me, not giving any hint as to whether he and Jax knew about Anara’s true identity yet, seeing as the bar incident had been caused over what I’d done rather than everyone learning who she truly was.
Once safe we stopped by the first incandescent guidepost statue before diverting down the twin canyon sand passage toward our secluded desert inn hotel.
“So anyway, thanks for the night out, boys. I don’t know about you all, but I certainly had fun,” Anara said towards Axel, smirking and giggling mostly as a nervous reaction, seeing as she was never able to take anything dangerous as serious at the time.