The Bard's Blade

by Brian D. Anderson

  Shemi leaned in until their noses were almost touching. “The only thing different about Lem I can see is that he isn’t a narrow-minded dolt like you.” His hands trembled in white-knuckled fists. When Hron retreated a pace, he yanked his stick away from the door and stormed back toward the road.

  Hron looked to Mariyah. “When you see him, tell him not to come around again. Assuming he’s not driven out of Vylari. Which would be the best thing for everyone, if you ask me.”

  It was an ill-advised comment. Before he could blink, Mariyah jumped forward and landed a blow squarely to his nose. Blood poured down over Hron’s mouth and chin. Eyes wide with shock, he staggered back, hands covering the lower half of his face.

  “Lem’s twice the man you’ll ever be,” Mariyah shouted at him, her face crimson, poised to hit him again. Spinning around, she marched after Shemi, who had paused and was now giving her a look of clear approval. From behind, he could hear Hron cursing as he slammed his door.

  “Well done, my dear,” Shemi told her. “Remind me to call in his debts come next harvest.”

  “Do you think he was right?” she asked, rubbing her knuckles. “Would people really ostracize him because of Lem?”

  Shemi shrugged. “What does it matter? If those fools can’t see that Lem is one of us … I just wish…”

  “What is it?”

  He cast his gaze to the ground despondently. “Some of the things I used to say. About the people in Lamoria.”

  Mariyah took his hand. “Don’t blame yourself. Everyone says that sort of thing.”

  “My sister didn’t.”

  “Did she ever tell you anything about Lem’s father?”

  “Not very much. Only that she loved him, and that he was a kind and gentle person.”

  “That’s hard to imagine,” she mused. “The stories my mother told me said that the Lamorians were all driven mad by greed and magic.”

  “I know. But now I wonder if those stories were only told to frighten us into staying in Vylari.”

  “But surely all the stories can’t be false. I mean, the barrier was put there for a reason.”

  “I never really thought on it much until now. It was easy to simply say that Lamoria was evil and to be avoided. Why question it? No one can find us here, and no one leaves. War is unknown to us.” He glanced over, his expression racked with sorrow and regret. “I should have known better. I should have somehow convinced Illorial to tell me more.”

  They continued in silence until arriving at the trail leading to the border. Here, they found signs of Lem’s passing and hastened their steps, keeping their eyes fixed on the light impressions he had left behind. Shemi could tell that his nephew had been walking at an easy pace, clearly in no hurry to leave. A faint hope rose that they would find him still at the border, unwilling to take the final few steps. But he knew it was unlikely. When Lem set his mind on something, he followed through.

  Shemi could picture the scene in his mind. He could see the fear-stricken expression on Lem’s face. He had to find him. Only the shadow of the large oak and the track’s sudden disappearance snapped his focus back.

  His arms shot out. “Not another step!”

  Caught off guard, Mariyah stumbled into him, pushing him sharply forward and off balance. He gasped loudly as he spun around and began desperately clutching at thin air for support. With eyes wide and his body leaning precariously back at an almost impossible angle, he managed to catch hold of Mariyah’s sleeve. Had he been any heavier, he would have undoubtedly pulled her along with him. As it was, Mariyah yanked hard, leaning back until Shemi succeeded in righting himself. He wrapped his arms around her, panting and gulping deeply for each breath.

  “What is it?” she asked, unsure as to why he had panicked.

  He pointed to the symbol on the oak, while at the same time firmly ushering her back several steps. “If we had gone any further, we could never have returned home.”

  Mariyah looked past him to stare at the seemingly normal expanse of forest ahead. “Are you sure about that?”

  His eyes shifted to where Lem’s footprints were still visible. “You see those? The way they abruptly end just beyond the tree?”

  “What does it mean?” she asked, a slight quiver in her voice.

  Shemi’s posture deflated. Suddenly he looked much older and frailer. “It means he’s gone. And there’s nothing we can do to help him.”

  Mariyah heard him clearly enough, but made no reply. It was as if the shock of his words had frozen her into position. She simply stood trancelike for more than a minute, her eyes fixed on a point somewhere beyond the border, her face completely devoid of emotion.

  Then, abruptly, she snapped out of it. As she turned to face Shemi, all the fury and pain of her loss burst forth. She strode past him, straight for the border.

  “Where are you going?” he cried out.

  “To find Lem.”

  He reached out to grab her, but as his fingertips touched her sleeve, she broke into a run. “Stop! You can’t—”

  It was too late. In a blink, she vanished.

  Shemi felt panic grip him. He raced forward, stopping just before her footprints ended. “Mariyah!” But there was no reply. Again and again he called out. It was hopeless. She was gone. “Fool girl.” Shemi looked back over his shoulder in the direction of home. He shut his eyes and steadied his breathing. “Damn, damn, damn.”

  There was only one thing to do now. As he drew in a long, courage-building breath, a thought occurred. His whiskey. He had left it in the cupboard. An involuntary laugh burst forth. What a thing to worry over at a time like this! He shut his eyes and took a step. Then another. The next step he knew would put him beyond the border. He was following not one but two reckless fools into the unknown.

  As his boot touched the grass, he muttered, “And now there’s three fools in Lamoria.”

  5

  THE JOURNEY BEGINS

  Knowledge is like the first step down a long road. All you can see is the ground at your feet. What lies ahead is shrouded in darkness until you find the courage to walk on.

  Book of Kylor, Chapter One, Verse Fifty-Three

  Lem stretched and yawned, seeking to work out the stiffness made worse by the bite of the chill morning air. He smacked his lips and scraped his tongue along his teeth. His mouth felt as if it were stuffed with sawdust. He glanced at the reason for this unpleasant sensation: the empty flask tossed aside a few feet away from his blanket. Why had he drunk the whole lot? A sip would have been plenty. All he had wanted was a proper night’s rest. In the three days that had passed since leaving Vylari, he had barely slept for more than an hour or two at a time.

  The fatigue from threading his way through forests and over hills together with the regular setting of traps for his food should have been more than enough to drag him into a deep slumber at the end of each day. But instead, he would simply stare up at the stars peeking through the treetops, thinking of home. He pictured Shemi sitting by the cottage fire, smoking his pipe and with some old book resting on his lap, lost in whatever tale he had chosen for his nightly entertainment.

  He imagined the children playing in the shallows of the Sunflow, giggling as they tried to catch the tiny lights scattered throughout the water. No matter how hard you tried, it was impossible. They slipped through your fingers or simply vanished, reappearing somewhere else a second or two later. No one really knew for sure what they were. Spirits was what Shemi had told him when he was a young lad. That might be true, but somehow he doubted it. If every one of them really represented a departed soul, there were far too many. Such a vast number of people could never have existed.

  But beyond this, what captured his thoughts and kept him awake most of all was Mariyah. By now, she would have found out that he had crossed the border. That would force her to accept the situation. Her parents would never allow her to come looking for him, and she would prevent Shemi from doing the same. It was the only way. Now that he was no longer in Vyla
ri, whatever evil threatened his home had no reason to come. Still, he had no idea how to proceed. Finding this Order of the Thaumas would certainly be on the agenda. But for now, his immediate concern was survival. He needed to find a town or village. As able a woodsman as he might be, he could not last forever on his own.

  No one can survive alone, my boy. Shemi’s words drifted through his mind. Not forever. If I can imagine a fate worse than death it would be to live alone. People need one another as much as they need food and drink.

  But even if he did find other people, what would they be like? Would they recognize him as not being one of their own? It was speculated by some that there were no other beings beyond Vylari; that the reason no one had found them was less to do with the barrier and more to do with no one being there. Perhaps war and magic had destroyed them all, some would say. But the arrival of the stranger dispelled this possibility. There were others, and sooner or later he’d find them. He hoped sooner. His supplies would last him for a time yet, but not indefinitely. Trapping and hunting would slow progress as well, and so far he had yet to see anything larger than a squirrel.

  He pulled his waterskin from under the foot of his bedroll. It was nearly empty. He needed to find somewhere to fill it again soon. The last spring he had happened across was a day’s walk in the opposite direction.

  The wild was no place to become weak, and he had heard the baleful cry of wolves in the far distance. So long as he was healthy and strong, they would not trouble him; people were not their natural prey, and he had never heard of anyone being attacked. All the same, he did not want to put it to the test. And no doubt there were more than wolves in the forest; plenty of beasts that would be more than happy to take advantage of an easy meal.

  After a meager breakfast of berries and a small hunk of cheese, Lem gathered his belongings. To keep going south was the only thing he could think to do. He had considered changing direction, but that might lead him in circles. Better to choose a path and stick to it. There had to be an end to the forest somewhere.

  With the ground more or less level and the trees not as dense as they had been the previous day, he set off at a leisurely pace. There wasn’t much sense in hurrying when you didn’t know your destination, and he wanted to preserve as much energy as possible. As he walked, the sun filtered down through the high branches in a thousand slender fingers, freckling the forest turf with light. It was fall back home, and it felt like fall here too. The leaves were beginning to turn, and the wind carried with it the chill that promised winter was on its way.

  Somehow, though, it felt different here. The plants were the same. The few creatures he had spotted were no different in either appearance or behavior. Yet there was something not right about this place. It lacked feeling. Spirit was the only word that came to mind as he sniffed the air and ran his hand over the bark of a pine he was passing.

  In Vylari he could hear the land speak to him. Not so much in words, but as an essence carried on the breeze. One that made you understand that you were home … and safe. He had heard it as he was leaving, right up until the moment he crossed the border. Now there was nothing. It wasn’t exactly an unsettling silence; more like a painful absence, as if a dear friend had died and you could no longer be in their company.

  Lem huffed a self-chastising laugh. You’re just lonely, he thought. This place is no different than Vylari. Stop letting your imagination run wild.

  As the hours passed, the day became unseasonably warm and humid. Shemi detested the heat, though he had never allowed this to prevent him from taking his long walks. Lem, on the other hand, loved summer above all. Summer meant lively festivals and joyful nights spent along the Sunflow. And it meant more time with Mariyah. Her parents would reluctantly allow her to accompany him to a few of the various celebrations for which he was hired to play each year, but only on the condition that she would stay with relatives while they were away. He, of course, was expected to find accommodation elsewhere. Though her parents trusted him with their daughter, they would not, as her father put it, allow young hearts to be needlessly tempted.

  As his mind drifted to seasons past, melancholy gradually crept back in. Summer would no longer hold the same meaning. It was yet another in a long list of things he was already starting to miss.

  “Stop it!” he said. “It’s done. You have to look ahead.”

  No sooner had these words left his mouth than he spotted a narrow road a few yards beyond the tree line. It was little more than a wagon trail, but this had to be what he was looking for. Straightening, he picked up his pace. His pulse quickened with anticipation as he tried to picture what the inhabitants would look like.

  Well … they’ll look like me, of course, he thought, stifling a laugh.

  Before stepping out onto the road, Lem pulled the stranger’s letter from his pocket and read it again. The wind will guide you home. What could this mean? He had asked himself this question at least a hundred times since leaving Vylari. His eyes scanned the letter again. The stranger declared himself a member of the Order of the Thaumas. Lem could only think to start by trying to find them and hope they could help decipher the rest.

  Lem tried to settle his mind by paying attention to the various trees, bushes, and underbrush along the roadside. Most of it was familiar, though here and there he would see something unknown in Vylari, and his thoughts returned to the question of exactly how big the world really was. If you kept going, would everything be completely different? Or were some things always the same no matter how far you traveled? There were no maps in Vylari of Lamoria that he knew of, and the stories spoke only of its violence and brutality—nothing at all of how the people lived or what they ate.

  A rustle in the brush off to his left snapped him out of his musings. At first, he could see no obvious source. Then he heard something most unexpected: a giggle that, from the timbre, came from a child. Lem paused, his pulse quickening, unsure what to do. Perhaps he should ignore it and keep walking?

  Before he could decide, the source of the giggle leapt out from its hiding place, arms raised above his head and fingers curved into what Lem assumed were meant to be claws. It was a young boy who looked no older than eight, with shaggy blond curls, plump cheeks, and a fair complexion. He roared as loud as his tiny lungs would allow, his face screwed up into a snarl.

  Lem could not help but smile. Covering his heart with both hands, he stumbled back a pace, feigning shock. “My, oh my. You certainly scared me.”

  The youth smiled in return, looking most pleased with himself. “I’m not really a monster. It’s just a game.”

  “Thank goodness,” Lem replied, blowing out an embellished sigh of relief. “For a moment, I thought it was the end for me.”

  The boy laughed. “You’re silly. I’m much too little to hurt you.”

  Lem crouched low and waved the boy over. “What’s your name?”

  The boy stood firm. “My mother said to never talk to strangers on the road.”

  “And what did she say about scaring them?” he asked, forcing a more serious tone.

  The boy kicked at the ground, shifting from side to side, eyes downcast. “She wouldn’t like it. You won’t tell her, will you?”

  In spite of his efforts to look stern, Lem’s smile returned. “Only if you tell me your name.”

  The boy thought for a moment, then said: “Pauli. What’s yours?”

  “Lem.”

  Pauli crinkled his nose. “That’s a funny name. Where are you from?”

  “A long way from here,” he replied. “Is there a town nearby?”

  The child looked at him as if he had said something unusual. “Of course there is. That’s where I live. Harver’s Grove. It was named after my great-grandfather.” This last bit of information was said with obvious pride.

  “Can you take me there?”

  Pauli took a step back. “No way. My mother will whip the hide off me if she finds out I’m talking to strangers. But if you keep going, you can’t miss
it.”

  Before Lem could say another word, the boy spun around and shot off into the thick of the woods.

  Lem stood in the road until it was clear that the boy had no intention of returning. He felt a mild sense of relief. His first encounter with a Lamorian had gone far better than he could have imagined. He could only hope that the adults were equally friendly.

  * * *

  As Pauli had said, it wasn’t long before he came to a faded sign hanging from a post by a rusted chain that read Harver’s Grove. Initially, he could see only a few small wooden buildings. Though clearly not of solid construction and in serious need of repair, Lem was surprised to see that, apart from having larger windows and doors, their general design did not look much different from those back home.

  It was then a brief spell of panic took hold of him as he paused by the sign. He gripped the post with trembling hands, his breath coming in rapid gasps, eyes fixed on the road a few hundred feet ahead. There they were. People. And not children … fully grown men and women. He’d thought that meeting the child had eased his trepidation, but it returned now in full force.

  After a few seconds, he managed to steady his nerves sufficiently to press on.

  Dozens of people were scattered about the walkways and street. The buildings, though in poor condition, were not as ramshackle as those situated at the town’s edge. Glancing through the windows, he could see that most of them were shops or other businesses. No one appeared to be in much of a hurry, moving along with expressions that bordered on despondency. They were dressed simply, in light shirts, pants, and leather shoes or boots. The women wore similar attire to the men, with only a few of them wearing dresses. As with the boy, everyone’s features were comparable to his own, though most of the men appeared a touch narrower in the shoulders than himself and bore the obvious facial lines of maturity.

  Just when he was starting to calm down, he saw something that took him completely aback. From out of a nearby shop stepped a man whose face was completely covered with thick black hair. Lem nearly tripped over his own feet in astonishment. On the opposite side of the avenue, he then spotted another man with the same strange growth. By the time he’d reached the next corner, he’d seen two more.