Death and Resurrection (The Ballad of Broken Song Book 1)

by Simon Birks

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Hoep said. “It happens all too often. The girl’s parents?”

  “She’s an orphan,” Ma Poppun said. “She was a maid at the house.”

  Hoep sat back, not sure whether the lady wanted to speak about it or not. She looked tough. She looked vulnerable. She looked wise. Hoep took the chance.

  “What was the house like?” he asked.

  The Ma smiled.

  “The house?” she said.

  Stillen Hold

  There once was a house. A large grey house that stood tall against the wind, the rain, and especially its enemies. And there were enemies. From every side, someone always had their eye on it. It was a good foothold, sitting in the middle of everything.

  The man who owned the house was a warrior. Ra Stillen, seven feet tall, seven feet wide. That was how the saying went, but it wasn’t true. Not that Ra Stillen was going to tell anyone otherwise. He managed his house and managed his grounds. He had an army of men and women second to none, if not in number, then in skill and dedication.

  Ma Poppun had been young then. She had been brought to the house after being seen begging by the side of the road. It was either save her, or let her die, and the people of Stillen Hold were taught to be kind. One more friend is one less enemy.

  She had been taken under the collective wing of the serving staff, taught every aspect of service and had finally settled on the role of cook. She had met Ra Stillen many times; he always made sure the staff used the house bunker for the Vengeance.

  Then Ra Stillen had ridden out one day and never returned. The second-in-command, Rin Cohely had been promoted to Ra, and had taken control of the house. After a while, Ra Cohely had fallen in love with one of the maids, and they had married, and been happy for many years. Ra Cohely had kept them all safe. The man wasn’t as sociable as Ra Stillen, but no one minded.

  Then came the night when the mistress’s carriage failed to return, and Ra Cohely had ridden out on his own, to find it. He had returned later that night, his wife’s dead body tied onto the horse in front of him. He had gone into mourning then.

  *

  “The funeral came and went,” Ma Poppun continued. “And the Ra didn’t take any interest in the household. It was difficult to witness. Stillen Hold had been a happy place for such a long time.”

  Ma Poppun looked out of the carriage window as they moved through the night. Hoep let the silence stretch. Finally, the cook spoke again.

  “Then, slowly, bit by bit, he started to be seen outside of his rooms, though the place never returned to how it’d been before his wife’s death. That was how it’d remained till just over a week ago.”

  “And they were all killed?” Hoep asked.

  Ma Poppun nodded.

  “I don’t think the Ra was amongst them.”

  “It’s so strange,” Hoep said. “And you’ve been on the road ever since?”

  The cook wondered whether to tell him about what had happened with the Vengeance, and the figure who had saved them, but decided against it. Instead she simply nodded.

  “Ever since,” she said.

  *

  Hoep was silent for a few moments. He thought about mentioning Orsa; who she was, what was inside her. He thought about mentioning the monster at Broken Song, and about Ka Yeta, the woman whom the Vengeance avoided. He thought about telling her all of it.

  But she was holding something back. He didn’t have to be special to know that. And if she was holding something back, perhaps it might be best to do the same.

  “It’s a strange life,” he said in the end, and left it at that.

  Different

  The girl sat near the woman named Orsa. They had not exchanged a word since Visenai had warned her about the wolves attacking Hoep. As the carriage moved, the girl was attempting to understand the woman better, but getting nothing. Not just from the thief, but nothing from anywhere. The woman was blocking her abilities.

  “I’ve not met anyone like you before,” the girl said. “How come you’re so different?”

  “Perhaps the same reason you’re different,” Orsa replied.

  “I’m not different,” Visenai responded. The thief didn’t move; didn’t say anything. “We’re going to the city on the ford. Where are you headed?”

  “Nowhere specific. We’ll get off when we reach it, I’m sure.”

  Visenai was annoyed. This woman knew about her, but she didn’t know the woman. She redoubled her efforts to pick up on anything about her.

  “I’ll tell you what,” Orsa said. “I’ll make you a deal.”

  “What sort of deal?”

  The woman stretched out her legs.

  “I’ll stop blocking your senses, if you promise not to use them against me?”

  “I don’t know what…”

  “Yes, you do,” Orsa said. “Now, I’ll give you one last chance. Do you want to take it or not?”

  “Yes,” Visenai said, raising her hands. “I’m sorry. I won’t use it against you.”

  “No, you won’t,” the woman agreed.

  Visenai was suddenly flooded with everything around her. The forest came back to life. She could sense everything and everyone, except the woman.

  “Thank you,” Visenai said.

  “My pleasure,” Orsa replied.

  *

  Now she had allowed the girl to use her senses, Orsa watched her from beneath her hood. Despite her attitude, the girl was scared, the thief could see. She wondered why.

  She didn’t want the girl to look into her mind, because she had lied to her about their destination. From the moment she had appeared behind her, there was only ever one place they were headed. Wherever Visenai went.

  The Court of Kings

  Ja Jenza woke slowly. She had slept well, after all. The sun was high in the sky, and there was a sheen of sweat covering her arms. She looked around, but couldn’t see Aponser nearby. The Ja looked for their belongings and saw them in the shade of a brown-leafed tree.

  She sat up and looked around. They were off the road, in a dip which would shelter them from the prying eyes of the thoroughfare. The spear, she thought. Then she remembered its tip pointing towards a crescent of mountains. That range was known as The Court of Kings. She’d never been there, but knew they were a few days hard travelling away, at least.

  Not for the first time, she thought about leaving before Aponser returned. The old woman seemed resourceful enough, and if anyone could fend for herself in this harsh land, it was she.

  As if thinking of her somehow had summoned her, she heard the old woman walking nearby. Ja Jenza stood, watching her approach. She carried some small dead creatures slung over her shoulders.

  “You just woke up?” Aponser asked.

  Ja Jenza nodded.

  “It’s been a tough few days,” the old woman said, slowly descending into the dip. “You hungry?”

  Jenza realised she was as hungry as she’d ever been.

  “Starving.”

  Aponser smiled.

  “I’ve just the thing.”

  The older lady built a fire, then skinned and cooked the creatures. As they sat down to eat them, Aponser produced some food that could have been fruit.

  “Have these first,” she said, and threw a couple over.

  “What are they?”

  Aponser smiled.

  “What they are is disgusting, which is why I say eat them first. The taste of the meat will hopefully take the flavour from your mouth.”

  “Thanks,” the Ja said. She bit into the brown fruit and nearly gagged. “You weren’t lying,” she said.

  Aponser laughed.

  “No, I wasn’t.”

  They ate the cooked meat, and it was good. Ja Jenza regained some much-needed strength, and even slept for another hour afterwards.

  When she woke, Aponser stood at the lip of the hollow, as if looking at something.

  “Everything all right?” the Ja asked.

  “Just looking at the view,
” the older lady said. “If you’re refreshed enough, I suggest we get a move on.”

  “I am,” Ja Jenza said.

  Aponser gave her a sidelong look.

  “Where are we headed?” she asked.

  Here was her opportunity; Ja Jenza could have told her she wanted to travel on her own, to thank Aponser and explain they should go their separate ways. But she didn’t.

  “To the Court of the Kings,” she said, and their fates were sealed.

  Adaptable

  Fijefel woke and coughed. A deep hacking cough. He looked at his hands, his feet, his arms. Then he looked up and saw Ra Pinto looking back at him with a quizzical face.

  “Does that happen a lot?” Pinto asked.

  “We can change at will,” Fijefel said. “I fell asleep thinking I would have to change in the morning, and that I would explain it then, but it seems my subconscious beat me to it.”

  “Why change now?”

  “I can hold my breath for longer in this form. If we’re going underwater, and it looks like we shall, it will come in handy. When we were in the forest, it was better if I was smaller, and quicker.”

  “That’s very… adaptable,” Pinto said, and laughed.

  Fijefel raised his eyebrows.

  “It does not scare you?”

  “Not at all,” the Ra admitted. “This is another world, why should everything be the same?”

  “Why indeed?” Fijefel answered. “How is Sogal?”

  “Awake. Ready to leave.”

  “Very good.”

  Pinto got up and made his way to the river.

  “One moment,” Fijefel said. “I had a thought about how we make this easier.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I can make a raft for Sogal to ride on, and for us to use as a disguise. We can cover it with leaves and other things to hide it from anything that may be interested in us.”

  “That sounds good,” Pinto said. “What are we making the raft out of?”

  “I’ll go out and get some wood,” he said. “I won’t be long.”

  “I can help…”

  “I need you to stay here. Be with Sogal. I won’t be long.”

  Pinto felt a little useless, but the man seemed quite assured of his actions. The Ra watched as the guard rose and headed towards the waterfall, stopping to pat Sogal on the head.

  “Be safe,” Pinto said

  Fijefel turned and smiled at the man.

  “I will try.”

  Easy Option

  Fijefel stepped through the waterfall and into the Shroud once more. He could hear the water behind him, rushing, covering their hiding place. His plan, such as it was, consisted of staying near the bank of the river, where he would find the thick reeds he needed to build a strong raft. It also meant that, however far he went, he could find his way back to Pinto.

  Carefully, he made his way through the water, crouched low. He felt at home. This was the life he had wanted. For far too long he had been in the tower, out of the way and only able to view the forest from the window. He’d been brought up with the idea that life in the tower was the right way to do things, and was to be respected, even.

  Now, everything had changed, and he wondered why he’d let it get that way in the first place. He guessed it’d been the easy option. Now the God was here, and he was back in the forest, fighting for survival. It felt good. It felt right. The God had done this, he was sure of it. Fijefel had prayed in those long hours in the tower, and his prayers had been answered.

  The God was good. The God was kind.

  Fijefel’s outstretched hands brushed the hollow reeds, and he smiled. This is what he’d been looking for.

  Another Chance

  Yeta had come back from the field looking gaunt, mumbling incomprehensibly. She’d sat down, watching the field, twitching at every sound and motion nearby.

  Gideon had given it a couple of hours and then suggested to her to get some rest. She had complained she didn’t want to sleep, but the boy had argued that wanting and needing were two different things.

  Finally, she had lain down and closed her eyes. Sleep had not been immediate, but it had stolen over her eventually, and when it had, the air around them seemed to clear, as if her consciousness alone were enough to give it charge.

  If she dreamed, she did it quietly, though Gideon hoped she didn’t dream. She needed rest. She needed the time to be quiet.

  The early morning was peaceful. As the light had brightened from the horizon he’d been able to meditate for the first time in ages.

  His mind had cleared, as if fresh air filled his head. It was a beautiful feeling.

  He had had a vision:

  It was somewhere dark. There was someone else there, and they were getting ready to do something. There was no sound, but he could see a haze nearby, a moving haze, possibly water, though the vision couldn’t recreate the effect. The people were putting bags on a raft, and covering them with pieces of wood and leaves.

  They’d put the raft in the water, and lowered themselves in after it. There was something else on the raft, too, an animal. A dog, he thought, hidden by camouflage.

  And then he’d heard a word. A single word. A word, which made him want to scream and laugh at the same time. A word, which meant, which meant… he had another chance.

  Duty

  “Pinto?” Fijefel said.

  Pinto shook his head.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Felt a bit… hazy just then. Sorry. Might be the tiredness.”

  “Can you carry on?”

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine now.”

  Pinto looked at the raft. It was solid. He couldn’t see Sogal on it at all. Halfway along both sides were places they could put their heads in to breathe above water.

  “This is good,” he said.

  Fijefel smiled and looked at the raft.

  “A misspent childhood, perhaps,” he replied, and they both laughed.

  “Thank you,” the Ra said. “I never got the chance to say it for saving my life in the tower.”

  “You didn’t know it was me till now,” Fijefel said. “It was my duty. It still is my duty.”

  “I am no God,” Pinto told him.

  “So you say. We ought to leave. We have a day’s journey ahead of us, and it will be a wet journey.”

  “What kind of creatures live in the water?” he asked Fijefel.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Let’s hope we don’t get the chance to find out.”

  Admission

  Yeta woke to find the boy sitting in the doorway.

  “Everything all right?” she asked.

  Gideon nodded.

  “I had a vision.”

  “Of the children?”

  “No, of the Ka from Broken Song. Ka Pinto.”

  “The one who was murdered?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened in the vision?”

  “Nothing much. He was with someone else; a man who didn’t look like us, and a dog. They were building a raft.”

  “Do you think it means something?” Yeta said.

  “It means he’s alive somewhere. He didn’t die. Or… maybe he Resurrected again.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know how. How did that monster disappear?”

  Yeta nodded.

  “Perhaps,” she said.

  Yeta had felt anger when Gideon had told her of Ka Pinto’s murder, but then she thought about the part she played in the deaths of the children at Broken Song, and realised she was being hypocritical.

  Yeta shrugged.

  “Perhaps you just didn’t kill him very well,” she said.

  “But if he’s alive,” Gideon said, “Then I’m not a murderer.”

  Yeta reached out and put a hand on the boy’s arm. His logic was flawed, but this vision seemed to have returned the colour to him a little.

  “Gideon,” she said.

  “Yes?”

  “I need to seek out a holy. They might be able to help m
e.”

  Gideon nodded.

  “There are plenty of holy in the city.”

  “There are.”

  “How far away are we?” the boy asked.

  “A couple of days, I guess.”

  Gideon stood and offered his hand to her.

  “Then what are we waiting for?”

  Strange Tides

  Pinto, Fijefel and Sogal made their way up the river slowly and methodically. The raft worked well, and the water remained warm. On a couple of occasions, Fijefel would signal to stop, pick some berries or larger fruits from the plants at the shoreline, and the three of them would share some food. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep them going. They travelled like this for several hours, pushing themselves through the water, until, without warning, the flow of the river quickened, and its temperature dropped slightly.

  “Lift your legs,” Fijefel told his companion.

  Pinto did so, and the raft instantly began to pick up speed as the current took it.

  “How much further?” the Ra asked.

  “I don’t know. I thought we’d be out of it by now.”

  The darkness kept on coming. Sogal, harnessed within the raft, remained quiet.

  Then, without warning, the darkness disappeared.

  *

  Sogal jumped as much as Pinto did. Both men tried to make their bodies vertical, to put up more resistance to the current, but they were going too fast.

  “What is that?” Pinto shouted across to Fijefel.

  The hunter’s eyes were wide.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” Fijefel replied.

  Fijefel knew the forests from his youth, the people who lived there, and their towers. This wasn’t anything like them.

  What he saw now was almost indescribable, a structure made of colours and metals he’d never seen before. This was not a tower of bones; this shape was regular, symmetrical. This had been built from the ground up.

  *

  There was a snap, and the two halves of the raft started to drift apart. Both men reached an arm out towards the other, but neither managed to get a purchase on either raft or comrade.