A Lullaby of Virtues

by Jr Bienvenido Buten

  I aim my bow at the fire. “Venitay,” I whisper. Silver fire leaps into Nochi through the moon shaped f-holes.

  I spent every leave training with Niza. Enduring beatings, unbarring trails, doing chores. In return, I gained a distinct edge over those in my kin. Nochi kept me alive long enough to learn few children survive war.

  Niza lifts her hands. “Find the traitor in my garden. My phoenix will keep you entertained, as usual.”

  I flick my nose. “Ready.”

  She laughs. “Remember Syringa. If you find yourself in a flowerless garden, swinging viciously with only the wind to whisper in your ear, do not fear my child. It means I sent you to the afterlife for destroying my flowers.”

  Her threats make everything difficult. Before the war, she made me walk the Lunae Dessert with water in my mouth. I drank some when a flock of sand phoenixes chased me. She made me do it again. Some tried to rob me of my instrument along the way the second time. Their ashes now lie in the Ashen Amazon.

  The phoenix dominates the sky to display his only birthright. His cries can heal souls, but one hit of scarlet fire can destroy it. Phoenix fire rival’s magma in temperature. And those are the baby ones.

  I guide my fire through the patches of yarrow flowers separated by soil covered roses. Scarlet ashes fall from the phoenix when he hovers over a batch of yellow winter jasmine flowers growing on the balcony. Niza hates winters.

  I aim my bow, “Nochi, incantay."

  Silver fire leaps onto the roof, consuming the flowers like a newborn phoenix. Aqua smoke belches from my fire and leaves behind ashes of the same color. Niza's favorite part.

  Bright yellow flickers from her eyes and catch the sunlight. She claps and her pupils gleam like two golden song coins. “Good job. Downcast sun rays would fill the forest if I had to make ashes of my only progeny.”

  She forces me into a fighting stance. “Why did you really call for me? Vidanoche aren’t known for their kindness. And as Reaper they have more eyes on me now."

  Chaotic drops of aqua ashes fall on Niza’s hair. No worries. It's not the first time she's been covered in another’s ashes.

  Niza throws the ashes into the pond. "Vidanoche this, Vidanoche that. At twelve you fought your first war and earned respect amongst your peers. Perhaps some more than others. What fuels Nochi’s fire now?”

  I gaze at Nochi. “To lead my kin into a new age. Justice is harmony and only peace can free us. This is what being a Reaper of Songs means.”

  Her brows furrow. “To lead? Harmony…You spend your time training your life away. At sixteen, you should explore the world. There is more to life than just surviving Vidanoche.”

  Grown ups. Only good for speaking a game of lectures. And combat of course. But they do exactly what they warn us about. Lady Niza and survival is like fire to a phoenix. Without it, she too would flow freely in the Ashen Amazon.

  A strumming sound of harps reach the garden. It’s time to report for Symphonist week. Merchants from around the Forest of Songs come to trade, create friendships with other kins, or conflict.

  The sun hangs in the sky- a near perfect circle without strings. It punishes us with relentless heat. It’s bright orange pouring into the garden like a pot of glowing lava. I expect nothing less from the star where Niza’s phoenix sleeps. And I hope he rests for years to come, as I fear for the world if she decides peace is no longer possible.

  I sit cross-legged on her oak brown floors, made of trees from the Hanging Gardens of Virtue. Goldenrod fire sways and curls on the stony fireplace; our tiny sun. It’s long shadows flash over the Virtuesong paintings that hang above it.

  Niza joins me with the biggest book I have ever seen. A great tome with cracked brown pages of ancient script and faded leather covers to hold it together. She opens a page and rips it out, closing the book before I get a glimpse of what I can’t understand.

  She catches me spying and I shift my gaze at the painting of Nizen Virtuesong; His white armor layered of silk, plain with spots of phoenix ashes. Armor that speaks of age and victories. Above his left shoulder, the leather hilt strapped to his back holds a lute; An ancient stringed instrument capable of commanding an ancient phoenix. A weapon that carries unimaginable burdens to their wielder.

  Lady Niza observes the painting of Resona Virtuesong; A slim, silver-haired woman in a brown cloak with a pink flower in her hand. The first and last to control umber fire.

  I cross my arms. “Would you really trust another Virtuesong? Where is her instrument. Where is her armor?"

  She sighs. “It would be dishonorable to her instrument if she allowed those who have no understanding of power to be in it’s presence. There are worst things than death for people like us Syringa.”

  This is why I don’t ask questions. The thought of something worst than death sends shivers to my spine. But I can’t resist to know the unknown. “What’s in the page Niza?”

  “A gift only someone of Virtue’s can read. A great song war might rise again, and for the first time, my lineage can’t fight it alone.”

  The messenger phoenix flies into the room and snatches the rolled paper with its talons. The glow in Niza’s eyes turn the scarlet fury in his head gold. He flies away and leaves a trail of golden ashes that only a fool would follow.

  Niza stands. "Being a leader requires difficult decisions Syringa. I’m constantly torn between taking my own life, or killing everyone around me to achieve the peace I desire. Resona carried my burden. That's why she doesn’t wear armor. To give her enemies a chance.”

  Her look brings me up on one knee. This is power. Unfortunately, one that’s shared. And those who posses it aren’t as kind.

  I fear for the unlucky Virtuesong who receives those scriptures. Man, woman, child, it’s all the same. Without great power to protect them, they will be hopeless. Death bound.

  III: SYRINGA

  My name is Vidanoche Syringa. Progeny of Niza Virtuesong, Feather of Suns. And this is my lullaby.

  IV: YARROW

  I go by Virtuesong Yarrow. Progeny of Datura Solis, Tongue of Ashes. And this is our lullaby.

  Thankyou for reading-

  First Chapter on Next Page

  First Chapter? Just take me there.

  I: Yarrow Virtuesong

  My ancestors were obsessed with power and phoenixes. That was a true love story. This is torture.

  We sing and hum through the forest. Datura runs ahead, her pink highlights contrasting the brown in her hair. She stops. “Let’s hum one more hymn Yarrow."

  I cross my arms. Just because we share the same umber skin and hair, doesn’t mean I’m going to agree with everything she says. “That depends. You know how powerful these hymns are. Wouldn’t want to sing the wrong one,” I say.

  The moon pours from the dome of the dark sky. The air hits my nose with a fresh smell of blooming flowers. Veins of silver with sea-green petals. A true sight.

  Datura picks up a pink orchid that matches the rebec and bow in her hand. “Virtues rule and conquer all.”

  I shrug. “I’m only a Virtuesong, I don’t know it all. But my fire is virtuous, pure, and refuses to fall.”

  A pink glow rises from her mocha-brown eyes. Pink fire slithers from the sun shaped f-holes on her rebec onto the flower in her hand and turns it to ashes.

  The light in her eyes flicker. "I don’t think it was a good idea to pick these up.”

  I catch her before she falls. She places a hand on my cheek. "Finish it," she whispers.

  "And if the reaper comes, our virtues will rip his mask off."

  Her eyes close.

  A chant used by my ancestors in dark times. I’ve always wondered why they wrote these poems. But here I stand in a similar situation, without any virtues to send death away when it comes for Datura. No army at my disposal. No phoenix shrouded in armor to fly us away. Just songs and each other to soothe us.

  Those flowers were breed to release a smell that knocks the one who plucks it from its birth place. T
he towering trees here drop sea-green leaves to cover the shed the sits between the branches. If I stand still, maybe time will join me and my bones won’t realize that they soon to must perish like this part of the forest. But I must move. Her life depends on it.

  I rest my beaten old ivory rebec on my shoulder. Lay my arched midnight bow on its strings and begin to play. After its sound rings across the forest, I realize there is no fire around.

  I search through Datura’s pink cloak and find a candle. Every time I gaze at it, I’m happy of the brown one I wear that I won at the local Song tag tournament. With the sticks that hold her hair together I flick them to light the candle.

  My muscles remember the movement of my lullaby before the rest of me does. I can’t play songs yet, my instrument isn’t strong enough to hold my fire. My fire twin fights for her life, so I have no choice but to try. The fire turns white and I continue my lullaby to encourage it to stay.

  My nascent fire kindles with excitement, like a child with a new instrument. But the sound of phoenix cries cuts my lullaby short. The symphony they create is much deeper than we realize. And I know this sound. It’s a cry of death. One of my ancestors.

  And for the first time, I wish I were the endangered phoenix creature. So that I may turn to ashes and be reborn long after they are gone. But this isn’t possible. At least not for a song like me. White smoke releases from my fire. It’s angry. Dancing for the moon, trying to dispose all its anger. If only I could do the same.

  Yarrow you fool… Datura lies on the floor dead. And you spend your time describing your fire.

  Wake up.

  I aim my bow at the fire. “Venitay.”

  It slithers down the candle, like the glass lizards from the Ashen Amazon. The leaves turn to their natural green before my fire lunges onto the hairs of my bow.

  She protects me. I heal. This is our relationship. One I’m fond of.

  The crackling sound of my fire vanishes. I aim my bow at the towering ancient trees. A sea-green light shimmers from them. And here in the night, I’m at a disadvantage. A hymn licks my ears with fear.

  A hand rests itself on my shoulder and I freeze like frozen ashes. “Virtuesong fire kindles dances,” says a soft, cold voice.

  My legs shake. “Eat your guts. Turn you to ashes.”

  I swing my bow and miss. She kicks my stomach and I tumble across the grass, hitting the very trees I swore to protect.

  The woman sits on Datura. She gazes around the forest like she's arrived at a song party until the caramel eyes hidden behind her hanging sea-green highlights find me. She tilts her head to the right. "Virtuesong? Oh. You should be more discrete, ever considered a different colored fire?”

  She’s right. The light of my fire has never helped me in a world so dark. A strong wind passes by, lifting the hood of her cloak high enough to let me see the mark on it. One no sixteen-year-old should ever see. "The mark on your cloak. Are you?"

  She holds the hood against the wind to confirm what I saw was real; A heart with two rebec bows across it. "Wisteria. Relations...Four."

  She draws a short sea-green arched rebec bow. Frozen phoenix ash where mine has hairs, sea-green orchids with dark petals wrapped around the bow. She gazes at her bow. “Your sound disturbed my night hunt. But as I contemplated on whether I should kill you or not, I remembered of childhood myths that spoke of an untold Garden. Where only one pure of heart can enter. I believe that is you, Virtuesong. "

  I stand and wipe the blood from my lips. “What lies there?"

  Her face expression goes blank. “I wouldn’t know; darkness is my forte. You’re as clueless as the last Virtuesong. He sang quite well as they stripped his essence from his soul."

  Myths no one knows about. Fires that break bones, Emperors and Czars who all took the same route. Fools. “Not interested. Whatever lies there isn’t mine.”

  She lifts Datura’s lifeless body off the ground, like an orchid who missed blooming season. “That’s how it starts. One village, and the thirst for powerlessness begins. Just like a song. Isn’t that your Virtue?"

  “No. It’s the one of my ancestors."

  “Then the day will come when you are waiving flowers over her grave. There are gods amongst us, and we have relied on their kindness for too long."

  My arms tremble at the sight of a Relations Four member. An organization trained for one purpose; Extinction of all songs, fires, and phoenixes that disturb the peace. As the last descendant of Resona Virtuesong, my very existence disturbs that peace.

  Her brows furrow. “Don’t be frightened Virtuesong. You stare at me as if I want you dead, but yet you stand before me in perfect health.”

  "My friend is dying. I’m far from perfect health."

  A sea-green glow rises from her pupils. They glow on Datura’s face. “My men call her Tongue of Ashes. I heard what happened to her. Don’t fret Virtuesong, death is the least of your concerns. I can’t speak for the Tongue however.”

  I get on my knees. “Let her go. You know who I am already. You know how much I’m worth to anyone with power.”

  She gazes at me, confused. “Money? A rain of songs is upon us Virtuesong. I have no intentions of standing under it with no umbrella.”

  I stare at Datura. The thought of her never waking up boils anger inside me. This Forest is filled with greed, power, and hate. And it’s not fair that we have to suffer for others lack of virtues. The fire on my bow gives out, leaving me alone with Wisteria.

  She glances at my bow. "Virtuesong. You disrespect me. As a child I’ve heard stories about the Virtuesong kin. Heroes of mine." She looks around. "Where are the phoenixes? The fire? The smell of death?"

  She looks disappointed. I’ve always disregarded my kin for their obsession with power. But here I stand wishing I were like them. Once again, someone else is hurt because I wasn’t born a destroyer. I drag dirt across my face, grab my rebec, and pierce it in the ground through it’s handle.

  She looks at my instrument. “Careful Virtuesong. Or you might get someone else in close proximity killed. Seems you toy with old traditions you know nothing about."

  I gently step forward. She’s alert, vigilant. Ostenday Chorimiz. A move used during the Virtuesong influenza pandemic of 1200 A.S. (After song) which killed more people than the first ashen war.

  She drops Datura’s body. “Interesting. You don’t seem like the type of song to bluff. You would really use that move against me?”

  "Leave us alone and I won’t."

  I lift my rebec off the ground. If I go through with this, I won’t see the sun again, but she will be safe. If I don’t, I’ll be once again relying on the gentleness of those with power.

  The ritual begins. “It’s obvious you’re no Virtuesong. We’re a little bit light on on life. But, I can tell by the look in your eye you respect my ancestors. Oddly enough since Relations Four started to take them down.”

  “Respect? You misunderstand Virtuesong. This respect comes with force; it is the level of praise one receives when they have attained power."

  I lick the hairs on my bow.

  She ready’s herself. "Interesting, there is darkness in you Virtuesong. How many do we have to kill to make you claim your rightful place?"

  "One."

  I begin my movements, dancing through the leaves like a drunkard, but diligently, a dance created by Resona when she was of eight years, and it has evolved into a weapon of destruction.

  Virtuesongs say if you run the world do it correctly. My ancestors test me now, but I’ve always known them to wish failure on others. Wisteria produces a gust of wind with the wave of her bow. Flowers fall from its hairs to increase the winds speed. Silly of her to do so. This dance releases me of all control of my body. And when my fire rises, it will spread and illuminate this forest for days.

  This will be my last gift to the world.

  To Datura.

  She strikes her bow on the ground to stop the wind. The glows in her eyes brighten, shining on my skin l
ike sunrays. It’s as if she wants me to succeed. Warmth helps my blood flow, and now my body thinks I’m in a natural state.

  My vision blurs and I see a Virtuesong dancing through an orchid-umber-garden. I bring myself back. She wants to see if Virtuesong’s are real, if I’m like the ones in the stories. “Conforti Meti etdabi Teni Sangunay.”

  I can feel the surge of power flow through my skin. It brings a chuckle out of me. This is what my body wants, to be like everyone else. Thirst for power and fame, but I refuse even in my last breath to give in. It’s not want I want.

  I move forward and she takes steps backwards until I’m near Datura again.

  A shimmer of pink reaches me, stopping my feet in its tracks.

  “Fool,” Datura says. She struggles to move her hand, stretching her fingers to reach for her bow. A drop of pink fire slithers from her instrument. Pink anger arises from the fire, releasing a smoke that can put any ancient phoenix to sleep.

  Wisteria flips backward twice to get away. Animosity flashes from her glowing sea-green eyes. “You have something in you Virtuesong, and for the sake of your friend, I suggest you allow it to control you. Only power can defeat power. Nothing less, nothing more.”

  She throws her hood on and disappears through the ancient oak trees.

  I chase her, but Datura’s hand grabs my foot. “If you ever attempt to give your life for mine, I will follow you to the afterlife and torture you for eternity. You fool. What were you thinking?”

  I remove my foot from her hand.

  I go by Virtuesong Yarrow.

  Gaze into her eyes. I should be the one angry here. How can I can protect someone who refuses it?

  Descendant of Resona Virtuesong; Empress of Songs. Czar of Virtues.Sister of ashes.

  And this is our song.

  Thanks for reading again. Hope you enjoyed.