SongWeaver

by Derek Moreland

  “I've been thinking. This land, this whole land, is magical. Glamoured. I can tell, I can smell it. I think it's made of glamour.”

  “I would say that's a fair assumption.”

  “Okay. I think I can use that to our advantage. Do me a favor. I need you to trust me.”

  “I have so far.”

  “I know.” Even when I've given you the best excuse not to. “Give me your hand.”

  X'on offered his hand, palm up; Ven pressed the book into it, and concentrated with ferocity on the language of Giants, the language where only the truth can be stated. He closed his eyes and prayed and said,

  “Stepson of Magog, your eyes are whole. They were never removed. Your sight is returned to you.”

  He opened his eyes a crack and squinted up at X'on, who was slowly removing the blindfold. X'on blinked. His scarred eye remained a clouded white mess, but the other....

  The other was large and brown and clear.

  A huge smile broke across X'on's face. “My friend, you did it! However did you think too… Ven. Your wings.”

  Damn it. He'd forgotten to cover his torso. “Yeah, listen, I'll explain later, okay?”

  “I understand. I have even more questions now, but for the one who has saved my eye, I will contain them.”

  “I was hoping that using all the magic in the area would fix both of them, actually.”

  “The wound that destroyed my left eye is deeper and older than even this can fix,” he said. “But that is my secret, for now.”

  “X'on… after what I've told you… I understand if you want to continue your journey alone.”

  X'on's fresh new eye filled with a question mark. “I'm afraid I don't understand?”

  “I told you. I was a wetwork guy. I'm not just a bounty hunter, I'm an assassin, a hired killer. I've done… I've done unspeakable things.”

  X'on spoke again, in a voice of calm explanation. “You were, yes. And when you first told me of your crimes, I too thought they were unforgivable. But. Now you are my companion, contractually obligated by your Guild to aid me in my quest.” He raised an eyebrow. “If there is to be judgement for your actions, now is not the time to deliver it, I would wager. We have much to do. Come. We must leave this place.”

  His tone brooked no argument. The pair stepped through the gate.

  *

  The portal sealed itself behind them as they stepped out into the night of the world, their world, once again. Clouds covered the pale, thin moon. Rain fell on them in thick, warm drops, soaking them through in moments, cleansing them. Ven could not remember when he'd felt so refreshed. Even his soul felt clean.

  Mud squelched beneath his taloned feet. Ven crouched down, scooped a loose, granular handful of the stuff, and sniffed: deep, rustic greens and browns, fresh and rich and healthy. He raised his beak high, letting the rain spatter his face, and breathed deep. His senses were flooded with an artist's palette of unfamiliar smells, a new unknown world opening to him.

  “X'on!” he said. “This is tilled soil! This is farmland! And farmland means…”

  “Farmhouse,” X'on finished for him. He was using his hand as a visor to peer through the wet and the gloom. “It appears we're in a valley. And over there…” he pointed with his free hand “…is a stable. Odds are even that the family plot is nearby.”

  Ven let out a whoop of exultation. Throwing caution to the wind, he took off at a dead run through the field, occasionally slipping on the rain-slicked soil before he could find purchase again. “So where in Taal'anquor are we, do you think?” he hollered over his shoulder. Except it doesn't smell like Taal'anquor, does it? No part of Taal'anquor I've been, anyway. Wherever we are, best case scenario is we can hole up in that stable and sleep through the day, slip out under cover of night and find X'on's boatman.

  “Actually, I believe we're in Jernot Mey,” X'on called out.

  “What?!” Ven screamed, but for the first time in days, it was a scream of pure, unbridled enthusiasm.

  “Indeed! From the look of the cartography, I'd say we're about seventy furlongs inland. You can tell by the way the mountains....”

  “Skip the lecture!” Ven interrupted. “This is fantastic! X'on, you're brilliant! We may just make it through this yet!”

  Part Three: Attack the Darkness

  Chapter 10

  “I take back every nice thing I've ever said about you,” Ven snarled, his voice tight. In point of fact, everything was tight: he was on his knees, hands bound behind his back by an elaborate contraption, legs anchored underneath him by a length of foul, ocre-stenched hemp.

  “You hardly ever say anything nice about me.” X'on, to his right, was in the same position.

  “Which lends that statement a lot more weight, doesn't it?” Ven retorted. Then he was kicked in the spine by a pair of size four boots, which knocked him forward and caused him to accidentally inhale and choke on what would have otherwise been fairly tasty gravel dust.

  *

  This was not how their journey through the mountainous dwarven lands of Jernot Mey had begun.

  Ven had assumed that they would be spending what was left of the night and the following day resting and recuperating in the barn of the farmhouse X’on had spotted; after a few hours of real sleep, they would begin their trek again at nightfall. But X'on had insisted on meeting the owners of the land and offering a day of services on the farm in exchange for a room and a meal. Ven protested, to no avail. Finally, they agreed that it was a breach of Ven’s contract to force him to work during the daytime, and resolved that Ven would hide in the hayloft while X’on made an affable jackass of himself (at least, that’s how Ven saw it.)

  The squat, full-bellied, hairy-toed family of Snergs upon whose hospitality X’on begged lived up to their reputation for such, and he was welcomed into their home and spare bedroom without question. From his hidden position amongst the family's farming equipment, Ven could hear the good-natured patriarch clucking in sympathy at X'on's story: he was on a role, casting himself in a one-man drama involving a small fishing vessel wrecked miles upshore, and a treacherous hike to the safety the Snerg's doorstep provided. The silver-tongued SongWeaver was inside and meeting the wife of the house before he'd even finished the story. Ven had to admit, he was impressed. He’d never thought the big nerd would be capable of telling such lies. Once he was sure X’on was in for the night, he crawled up the ladder to the loft and stretched out, waiting for sunrise.

  When dawn broke the following morning, or so Ven was told that next night, X'on awoke to a delicious baked corn cob breakfast and a day of pulling weeds in the fields. As evening fell, X'on collected his partner, shared the leftovers of that night's dinner, and set out for the mountains that would lead them to the border of Gedeva and beyond.

  As the night wore on, X’on regaled him with tales of the family’s “adorable” children, which Ven let wash over him as he took in the fresh blue of the air coming off the mountain. In it, he found a memory of better days. It seemed like they were in the clear, that the road ahead was safe and polished smooth. Ven almost let out a sigh of relief. So of course, X’on had to go and ruin it all by asking questions as soon as they settled for the night’s first rest.

  “Ven?” the half giant rumbled, stretched out on his back, meaty hands resting behind his head. Ven, who was tending a small fire about a half meter away, closed his eyes in resignation. “Yeah?” he asked, opening them again.

  “Your wings.” X'on hadn’t moved, but his body posed the unspoken question anyway.

  “That’s against the deal,” Ven said without tone. “Go to sleep, you worked all damn day and we can only stop for a couple hours.” But he’d known this was coming, and he knew there was no way around it. Not that he owed the big bastard an explanation; hell, he’d been the one who’d gotten them out of that Elven hellhole, even if it had technically been X’on’s idea, and it wasn’t like….

  It wasn’t like he needed to tell somebody. Just once, just to ge
t it out, just to not be alone with it anymore.

  “What happened? Tell me. Please.” X’on asked, just above a whisper. He still hadn’t moved, wasn’t even looking at him. Trying to allow his some privacy, even when probing him with such personal questions. Ven sighed, breathing in his companion's unsmell. Then he shrugged out of the new tunic X'on had squirreled away for him, letting his shrunken, twisted stubs of wing stretch feebly out in the open air.

  “I was… look, you know how everyone assumes I’m Rahvin? Well, my father was. Rahvin Shinlone. Before I was born, he owned some land. Not much, of course, he wasn’t Lath’shian’alee or anything, but it was good land. Enough to keep some goats and grow tomatoes. And he owned a couple Tanith and a few Quon’south to take care of it for him. He was a contract man, settled law disputes for the Shianaloth above him. Very good at his job, everyone told me. Had a lot of friends. Made cheese in his off hours.” Ven took a deep breath, and then continued. “He was a good man, my dad. Had everything he could have wanted in life. Then he had me.

  “The ore rookery Mom laid that year gave him five strong sons, three beautiful daughters, and one Ven, a throwback with deformed wings who, well, I’m sure you’ve guessed by now.”

  “I’m sure I have not,” X’on said, not unkindly. “And even if I had, I wouldn’t say anything, out of respect for your privacy.”

  That actually made Ven chuckle a little. “A freshly hatched gargoyle with broken wings who turned to stone in the daytime. We don’t do that anymore. Gargoyles have evolved past that. All of them but me.

  “Mom left. Her right, the disgrace of a damaged son falls on the father, so she got to keep her station. She also got to keep the land, the help, my hatchsiblings. Not my dad though. She could have afforded to bring him on as another Tanith, but she refused. I thought I was angry with her. For a long time I blamed her for just up and leaving my dad like that. It took me a while to realize she was just doing what she thought was best for her family. The part that still mattered, anyway.

  “Dad was forced out of the Rahvin caste. No, that’s not the right word. He, uh, stepped down, I guess. I can’t think of another way to say it, there’s really not. Um. The concept doesn’t exist outside the homeland. Anyway. Dad was now a Tanith with a broken Tanith child.

  “He could have smashed me. That was his right, too. Smash me in the crib one morning, reject his throwback mistake. But he didn't.

  “I asked him once about that, actually. I did. I said, 'Dad. Why didn't you do it?' And he pretended he didn't know what I was talking about. So I got up in his face about it. I was a kid, twelve, maybe thirteen years old, just, you know, just a real idiot. And Dad looked down at me and said, 'Because I don't waste potential.'”

  Ven ran a tongue over his lip ridge and blinked several times before he continued.

  “Anyway. We, he and I, got lucky. He had a friend, Rahvin Michalaea, who took him in when Mom decided keeping him on wasn’t worth the shame. Dad worked around Uncle Michi’s house… did clerical work in his office, cooked some when he needed too, did some gardening. Stopped making cheese though.

  “Me, I got brought up alongside Rahvin Jakat, Michalaea’s son.” Ven eyes went glassy again at the memory. “Not that I was ever treated as his equal or anything, but we did get to play together, and I got to sit in on his tutoring lessons more often than not.”

  “Hence the reading and writing,” X’on interjected.

  “Yeah. Hence that.” Ven allowed himself a small smile. “Jakat and I were inseparable for years. He taught me how to shoot, how to ride, how to fight. He even let me win a couple of times, even though, as a Tanith, it was supposed to be the other way around. He took me hunting. We wrestled, which was Jakat's favorite. Fought with sticks in the yard. You know, little boy stuff. Jakat, I was more like a brother to him than anything. And he… he was so much more to me.” Ven swallowed the lump that had grown in his throat. “And Uncle Michi didn’t have to do that, he didn’t have to let his kid hang out with the twisted up little Tanith boy, but he did. Right up until….”

  Ven stopped. He didn’t say another word for a long time, long enough that X’on rolled up on his side and said, “You don’t have to finish. You’ve told me more than enough, my friend.”

  “I was coming into adulthood when Dad turned sixty,” Ven said in a rush. Just get it out, he screamed at himself. For your own sake if nothing else. “Taniths don’t get to live past sixty, did you know that? They get stoned to death on their sixtieth birthday. Not useful anymore. What you’d call the deluxe retirement package. ‘From the stones we came, to the stones we return.’ And of course, as his son, I was supposed to throw the first one. It’s this big honor, everyone kept saying. It’ll help me make peace with his passing. They even scheduled the event for dusk, instead of dawn, like tradition dictated. Just for me.

  “I loved my father. He never had a harsh word for me, never blamed me for his losses, even though he had every right too. Never mocked me for hanging around a boy who, at best, would bring me under his service when he came of age. And they, every one of those Rahvin bastards, even Jakat, were telling me how wonderful it was that I was going to kill him. Jakat even made me practice, saying I needed to aim for my father’s head, knock him unconscious so he wouldn’t feel the rest of it.

  “The night before my father’s birthday, I ran. I stole some food and a kitchen knife and I ran. And I mean that. I literally ran until I couldn’t breathe, and then I jogged until I could, and then I ran some more. I hid in a quarry that first day, trying to blend as best I could. I thought, I knew I wasn’t going to wake up the next night, that Uncle Michi or Jakat or one of their other Taniths would find me and smash me for shirking my duty. But night fell and I woke up and I was still together, so I ran some more. I ran away from Lothshor Providence and away from Lathshia’s Blessing and away from my heritage. I ran as far from the gargoyles as I could get, and if I have it my way, I’ll never stop.”

  X’on had returned to his reclined position, and had not moved since. Not while Ven finished pouring out his story, and not now that it was over. Ven wasn't sure if he had even heard it, or if in his exhaustion he had fallen asleep. He thought about rifling through X'on's new pack of supplies for something, anything, to take the edge off. Instead he sat next to the fire as it guttered in the breeze, staring over the horizon at the stars.

  Chapter 11

  The pair of them spent the next two hours that way; Ven staring out over the dying fire, his knees drawn up just under his beak, his arms wrapped around them; X’on stretched out straight as a board nearby, silent and unmoving. The fire had burned itself down to a dull collection of punk when the big one sat up and said, “That was restful, thank you. But we should get going.”

  Ven, who couldn't think of anything better to say, went with, “Agreed.”

  Ven had just finished dumping dirt and sand on the punk and donning his pack when X’on coughed and said, “I have a question, Ven. Two, actually. But I will keep them to myself if you feel you have shared enough this night.”

  Ven rolled his eyes. “Why not? Fire away.” Not like he could ask anything worse than what I’ve already told him. Hrmph. Guess he was listening after all.

  “Your father…why did he take Tanith? Why not Lanthess?”

  “Wow, you really do know your stuff. Some of it, anyway. A Lanthess can use his earnings to buy property, and can eventually earn his way to Rahvin. Which meant he would have been able to breed again. It’s pretty rare, but it happens. My father’s loss of status was due to defective lineage, which meant he could never regain his old position.”

  “And yourself… Ven, has your old Rahvin ever come looking for you?”

  Ven sighed. “It’s, well, it's complicated. I don’t have a fixed address, but my movements are routinely filed at the Guild offices. So finding me wouldn’t be too difficult if anyone wanted too. As you would know,” he added, remembering their first conversation. “But with the exception of expenses--food,
hotels, weapons upkeep, and the like--booze--everything I earn from my contracts goes back to Jakat. Never from the same Guild office, and never with a return address. For a while, I got a receipt, just to make sure the packages were getting delivered, but I haven’t even done that in years.” He shrugged, kept walking. “I don’t know if he’s taking it as a bribe or a sign of respect. Either way, he’s never made an effort to find me. Not to my knowledge anyway.”

  X’on’s even, measured stride threatened to outpace Ven, as it always did, but the half-giant slowed his gait so Ven could keep up. “And why do you send him the money?” he asked. “Out of fear or respect?”

  “Both? Either? Does it matter? Maybe I'm just trying to buy peace of mind.” Ven’s expression hardened, which in his case really meant something. “Come on. Don’t slow down on my account. I can keep up. And I want to make those mountains by dawn. I assume you’ve got some idea or another on how to get us over?”

  “Of course.” He reached out; put a palm on Ven’s shoulder. “I thank you for sharing, Ven of the Tanith caste. May Lathshia smile upon our endeavors.”

  “I really wish you’d stop talking like that,” Ven said, shrugging off the massive hand. Enough. I have had enough of this. “You're not one of us, you don't understand this, and frankly, it's gotten a little patronizing. Come on, we’re burning moonlight.”

  X’on nodded, his gait lengthening to its proper stride. Ven found himself wishing he hadn’t popped off; now he had to maintain a light jog just to keep up with his companion. He wasn’t going to complain, though, not after everything he’d said already. This is what I get for telling the truth for once.

  It was the last thought he had before the pair were shanghaied by dwarves.

  *

  “Who sench ye?” the tiny voice bellowed over him. Ven did his best to spit the dust out of his mouth. “I told you,” he coughed, “we're just passing through. Let us get back to the surface and we'll leave your mountain tunnels be.” Ven assumed that’s where they were, anyway. It was dark and cramped and smelled the oily yellow-orange of dirt and mildew. Damn things drug us all the way here and inside just to kill us. Why?