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

by Scott Beith

  I was amazed to realise that, just like those sirens who’d become wisps in the story Adria had told, I too had evolved into something so much more. I saw how strangers and enemies could turn into colleagues and friends, when shared events like these happen, and manage to bring new kinds of families together. It was a pleasant experience that came with a feeling of belonging that I had never properly felt before, and I liked it – I liked it a lot.

  And so, well after midnight, I was left staring blankly at the prison carriage as my thoughts drifted wildly. Part of me felt guilty about leaning backwards in comfortable bliss while the underprivileged were stuck in cramped quarters and denied basic rights, while at the same point feeling almost as if I deserved more than those members because I had fought harder to make something of myself. I wondered whether that was the very sense of entitlement all corrupt rich nobles get when they start noticing the lines between first and second-class citizens.

  Looking over at the iron carriage, wondering how the prisoners were doing, whether they were even alive, I spotted bags of food supplies floating in mid-air, like magic, being passed into the prison caravans from the side Milena wasn’t facing. Obviously, Anara felt the same sympathy for these poor nymphs as I did, with Anara offering them all at least a certain degree of compassion, unlike her mother.

  “As tiring as it’s been, I don’t know if I’m ready to go home yet,” Arlo whispered to me, staring up at faint star constellations amidst the twilight night sky.

  “I feel the same,” I responded, looking at the exact same spot in the sky. Staring towards two particular constellations we had both seen in Milena’s war wagon roof art. They moved across the sky in real life and real time, as close as can be, yet never physically able to touch. We turned to face each other while Ode, Maxwell and a few others all slept and snored by the fires on each side of us, neither him nor I showing any form of appropriate cordiality while Anara remained slumped in Akoni’s arms mid-slumber. She’d somehow managed to nestle herself back around the bonfire without anyone noticing her disappearance to the prison carriage, obviously faking a deep heavy sleep.

  “There’s a lot we’re going to have to adjust to when we get home – a brighter world is about to come because of that crystal you helped save,” I added.

  “Yeah, I know,” he replied, possibly worrying a little about the day he’d soon become our new king. “Nights have always been a precursor to fear and terror, but I don’t really feel that way about them anymore… I guess there’s a certain peacefulness to them we have long since lived without,” he said, staring out to the sandbanks spotted across a windy beach and ocean. “You look a little lost yourself,” he stated to me.

  “Yeah, I am a little,” I acknowledged.

  “How come? What is it you’re afraid of?”

  I hesitated to respond, though, wondering how far I wanted to include him into my current thought pattern.

  “Being wrong about something very important,” I eventually explained to him, met by his curious gaze and show of concern. “Arlo, what if Midas isn’t crazy?”

  Taken aback by it, possibly because he had never once thought to question it for himself, he took a moment to respond, looking to make sure Akoni was well and truly asleep before voicing any opinion at all. “You’re a very smart girl,” he incited. “Smart enough for me to trust your fears are usually well warranted... But wouldn’t you also agree that sometimes being so smart isn’t always an advantage?” he asked.

  “And why’s that?” I answered, slightly confused.

  “Because paranoia seems like it’s much more prominent in the clever, don’t you think?” he quickly added. “Don’t over analyse things because you simply wish they could be different. Didn’t someone once say that even the wise man dwells in fool’s paradise. I mean it’s ok to have faith in others, but you shouldn’t go letting your hopes outweigh your intuition,” he insightfully said, lying backwards, happy with what was most likely the single smartest thing I’d ever heard him say.

  “Yeah, well it’s ‘wise lady’ to you, thanks,” I teased. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be a lady of the court after all I’ve done for you,” I added.

  “Fair enough,” he laughed. “I guess we’re not really children anymore.”

  “No, we really aren’t anymore,” I said back to him, staring into his eyes for longer than I care to admit, looking over to his mother guarding the prisoner carriage from the outside back ledge. Her own eyes glued towards me while her hand pressed to her side, trying to suppress some mild muscle pains and agony.

  “Ok, so answer me this then, Arlo,” I invited, looking back to him as I said it. “Other than the damages Midas did to the Sunspire – his own Sunspire – what makes Midas so evil?”

  “What do you mean? Have you not seen it more than most – what he has done with his own two hands?”

  “Two days ago, we invaded his home. We ransacked his goods and stole from his underprivileged brethren. How is he worse than us?” I argued. “He stole from us because he could, just as we did when we could. The only difference is his people were more starved than ours,” I muttered to Arlo, looking at him with a need of clerical wisdom I knew he wasn’t going to be able to provide.

  “Do you know what the word ‘Vanguard’ means, and why every soldier here wants to be part of it?” he then asked after a long pause.

  “It means to be the leader of a movement, or the first into a fight,” I responded, waiting to see the relevance of his question.

  “Exactly,” he stated. “Because we send the best soldiers into battle first so we can minimise our casualties – a battle tactic decreed by King Midas many decades ago, something that has never once been changed,” he explained. “That’s why every devoted knight dreams to be in the first regiment, for the honour and prestige of being one of the toughest, bravest and most virtuous soldiers around… To be someone who is called upon first so that they’ll spare lesser trained fighters from an early death,” he answered, educating me about the values of valour him and knights like him held to great regard.

  “But gnolls don’t fight like that. The weakest of the litter were always sent in first, made to tire us out and ensure only the strongest ever rise in rank. This tactic is much more easy and effective to implement. It helps to conserve food and resources and pretty much is the best way to win a war, but it’s also sadistic and cruel… What I’m trying to say is that there is a monumental difference between being an army that fight to survive, and being an army that cause mayhem without any intention of preserving life. So I have no sympathy for any of them,” he then declared.

  “Midas may be Akoni’s father, Kya, but he is also a traitor. Not just to the crown, but also to everything he once stood for. Don’t let looks or sentiment confuse you on that. Maybe he was once a good man, but he isn’t that same man anymore,” he said, throwing a stick he had been burning away from our dwindling campfire, almost as if that stick might have resembled the conclusion of the discussion.

  “But what if he’s not the gnoll leader?” I dared to question. Bold enough to make that ludicrous claim, having to check again to make sure Akoni was still asleep before being able to talk to someone who I knew wouldn’t hold back his honest thoughts about the topic.

  “We saw him with our very own eyes. We found gnoll shrouds in their tunnels, and his machines were roughly the right shape and size as typical gnolls. Honestly, I don’t know what more proof you need. These are some pretty strong and undeniable facts you seem to be forgetting,” he stated calmly but adamant that there was no chance of changing his opinion on the matter. “I get that it’s sometimes smart to be a sceptic, but you do understand how farfetched and dangerous claims like those are, don’t you?” he asked, placing a hand on my arm in concern over how casually I was being about the precarious subject.

  “You said you liked me because I would rather tell ugly truths over beautiful lies,” I recited back to him.

  “But this isn’t truth, Kya. It’s cons
piracy, and my mother prosecutes rebels for a great deal less,” he warned. My efforts in convincing him had begun to cease as he looked and waited for me to say something more about it. “What more evidence do you need?” he asked, continuing the subject.

  “A confession?” I stated sarcastically back.

  “You want me to go over there and ask him?”

  “Yes, I do,” I immediately responded

  “What would that even prove? Why would he tell the truth?” he asked.

  “Arlo,” I said loudly and sharply, staring directly into his eyes with a devoted cause,

  “why do you think he would need to lie? He already has nothing left to lose?”

  “Well, I don’t need to ask… I already know what he’ll say,” he badgered back.

  “Which is what?”

  “This is dumb,” he provoked, trying to end the conversation.

  “Humour me,” I pressed, asking one last time, but grinning over the absurdity of it as he shook his head before smiling to a slow but defeated response.

  “Midas would say that he is innocent, and it wasn’t him,” he replied, finally realising the point I was trying to make about reasonable doubt and being innocent until proven guilty, rather the other way around. “Sometimes you are too clever for your own good… But you are right this time,” he confessed. “When he was first banished, we gave him a trial, and I’ll make sure his voice is heard at least once by the council before any punishment is enforced – so long as you don’t become the next Midas before then,” he joked.

  I grinned. “Deal.”

  We took a moment to sit back and stretch out in front of the dying fire, keeping ourselves warm from a rather chilled night air, sharing the same blanket, too close for comfort seeing as everyone else had distanced themselves enough to doze off to sleep. Stuck among the most beautiful and scenic surroundings, embers flickering against our arms on occasion.

  “They really could use someone like you on the council,” Arlo said, breaking the brief silence of night.

  “I strongly doubt your mother would want that,” I responded, avoiding telling him the exact reason why I already knew it could never be so.

  “And that’s exactly why they need you there,” he mischievously replied. “Besides, I don’t think you have to worry about my mother fixating on you anymore,” he stated naively, believing his mother would hold no more grudges towards me after I’d saved her life back in the Caverns. I didn’t want to ruin the moment by telling him she’d banished me from the Capital, as it was clear that no one else but Milena and I knew of that so far.

  “Can I ask one more thing?” I said openly

  “I don’t know, you ask a lot,” he joked with a laugh, slumping against the sand.

  “Back at Ambarvale, when you beat that skilled swordsman, I saw you look right into that creature’s face before it disappeared,” I said, my question stunning him almost traumatically as he stared off in self-reflection. “Well, what did you see?” I asked.

  “I… um... I don’t know,” he stated rather strangely and defensively.

  “Please, you can tell me.”

  “It was… It was nothing… I was delirious,” he stated timidly.

  “Please, I really want to know,” I persisted

  “I… ah…” he stammered. “Well... I saw myself,” he confessed to a joint confusion between both of us. His answer only raising more questions, but, out of respect, I chose not to push the topic, seeing how unnerved his recollection of it seemed to trouble him.

  “We made a great team that night, though – the four of us,” Arlo was quick to add, changing the subject. “I always knew Akoni had some warrior’s instinct. The only reason my mother never drafted him into the ranks was simply because he was more beneficial to us as an engineer... But you though… you’ve only just touched the surface of what you can do. In environments like this… I honestly think you’re limitless.”

  “We do complement each other very well,” I agreed, referring to all four of us as I looked over at Akoni and Anara while they slept. “But if you’re the strong one, and your sister is the fast one, and Akoni is the smart one... what am I exactly?” I asked curiously, wondering what he thought of me. “What’s my purpose in this new squad of yours?”

  “Our mascot,” he teased, retreating before I punched him playfully in the arm. “I’m joking. I’m joking,” he whimpered, looking back to me and my fake angry face, before surrendering to a more serious demean-our. “You’re… special,” he added sweetly, a small chuckle mixed with both embarrassment and sincerity to his red face. “Hey, would you want to go for a night swim? Maybe wash away all those crazy fears of yours?” he surprisingly next invited.

  “Ah…? It looks freezing out there,” I responded.

  “And dangerous,” he cheerfully added, standing up, removing the wrapped-up blanket from around his waistline, and bringing more of it upwards to cover my shoulders. “Last chance,” he stated with a small smirk and smile, a hand extended out to pull me up if I caved to his peer pressure.

  “Nah, I’m ok. It’s cold enough,” I replied, the temptation to follow being as strong as ever, but the path to where it led me being somewhere so cold and dangerous I knew it was for those with a different kind of bravery. So instead, I just sat and watched as he walked over and plunged himself deep into those cold ocean waves.

  It was there I came to the sudden realisation that I had experienced and participated more in that one short week than I ever had in my entire life, and that if I took Milena’s money, I would never get to have another week like it again. That I would leave the entire servant life I knew behind, including all of the friends and duties I had come to cherish. That I was about to live forever with only the memories of the man I wanted to be with, while he moved on to marry another without ever even knowing how I felt about him.

  I wanted to believe that I had gone to the Caverns to help save the boys because I had gained the courage and valour to do so, but I was never acting upon decisions that needed to be made, but rather just reacting.

  Where, in truth, my only real reason for going on that mission was because I loved them both dearly: one because he was the closest thing I had to family, and the other because every moment I spent with him was one more moment he would be away from Ebony, his recently betrothed.

  The lies we tell ourselves can be sweet, so much easier to digest than the non-virtuous truth… But there was no lying to myself anymore. If I joined Arlo in the ocean, then I would be the siren that sung her song, luring a man away from the safety of the shore.

  And even though it was going to take all my strength to do right by him, I knew the best thing I could do for my future king was to leave him behind without the option of confusing him anymore than he had to be.

  25

  Triumph

  Our arrival home was surreal – crazier than I ever could have imagined. From back in the carriages with my three closest friends, we were sitting back merely watching empty alleyway streets suddenly teem with life, bursting with mid-afternoon cheers and applause of rapidly growing citizens coming out from their small city homes. Farmers, tradesmen, friends and families shouting to those they knew, some clapping and crying with joy as they joined the crowding masses along the sidelines of the large main entrance road, ecstatic to see so many of their loved ones return home safely.

  We hadn’t told anyone of our triumph yet, but somehow they all appeared to be well aware of it. They were all smiling and waving frantically to us from the back opening of our bleak-looking carriage as we were graciously received into the castle through the first few side-streets beside the underground tunnel gates and over towards the huge flat market square of town, where the palace and courts resided in wait for us.

  Two fractured halves finally being reunited as one fully pledged legion of soldiers who all happily begun to reconvene with their fellow military comrades beside the large sandstone columns of the courtroom steps, together reforming perfect milit
ary lines in rows behind one small white brick podium just outside of the large doorway and roof enclosure of the royal palace on the opposing end of the middle market square and adjacent court.

  Between the long paved steps of the courts and the palace steps upon the other side, nobody was precisely sure which way the king was going to enter from – whether he would be up and about already somewhere over on that far side of town, or within his palace due to the constant nightshifts required to maintain the fiery but splintering former Sunspire diamond stone.

  Nevertheless, a hundred weary yet sprightful soldiers stood firm and patient for him to arrive, all secretly wishing he would come out just that little bit quicker so he could announce the end of their service and allow them to disband from their lines so they could run off and hug their waiting families.

  Strangers who had no clear relation to any of the soldiers were also in attendance among us. Orphan kids and elderly widows silently nudging their way to the front of the crowds, offering nothing but their unyielding support and undying admiration for the soldiers who’d vowed to uphold their crusade in keeping them safe and eliminating evil.

  After two decades of unending mayhem, the war had finally been won, and peace would once again prevail. The gnolls had indisputably failed. The Sunspire’s resurrection was unstoppable. The crystal and its essential technical components all remained safely within the city’s protective borders, ushered up to the royal palace doors in carriages by half a legion on either side.

  Wood crates carrying various metal braces and wires were chauffeured by guards past our most delighted and euphoric king as he came out of the palace still in his morning robe. He showed himself before his guards and eager fans by walking out from the shaded front pillar steps of his house and into the bright brilliance of day, waving to the public and shaking every serviceman’s hand while he, too, waited anxiously for his wife and kids to return home.

  I spotted a florist handing out boxes of dyed red and gold petals to children as he freely encouraged them to throw them out towards the wheels of the supply caravans and carriage wagons that were still being coached in by the spiders towards us and the long sandy palace entrance steps beside the king. His guards and the ever-increasing public crowd standing together in respectful wait for all of the carriages to arrive.