The Exiled Monk (The World Song Book 1)

by James T Wood

  “Perhaps, in time, you can be taught to say what you believe,” Plafius commented quietly as he rose and started walking back toward the village.

  Peek and Dray stood together for a moment before following along behind him. They walked to the base of the cape and stepped out of the trees to see the monastery across the cove. Smoke billowed from within.

  Twenty-Five

  Through long years of study the Disciples of Eytskaim gathered the songs of The Melody. They learned the four elemental songs that caused all things to be and they learned how to recapitulate the songs with their instruments to cause wonders. The decay of the kingdom of Eytskaim ceased for a time and Talib ruled over the land with wisdom and power. Darrah was often seen at his side conferring with the king prior to one of his decrees.

  Years passed and the kingdom stabilized but never expanded to the size it was under Eytskaim. Talib ruled wisely, but his focus was not entirely on the kingdom. He often stopped hearing people early so he could return to the pool and listen to The Melody. The people’s frustration slowly grew in response to the inattention of their king.

  “Love is not power or control, but hope in the glorious unknown.” Taurean of Amhran Gaoithe

  P

  eek started to run toward the monastery, but Plafius shot out a hand and grabbed his arm before Peek could get past.

  “Wait, we don’t know what happened. Don’t rush in.” Plafius cautioned him.

  “What should we do then?” Peek struggled against the old man’s grip until he was released.

  “I’ll take a look,” Dray said. She started humming a tune that sounded very much like the water-song. She didn’t use a harp or even an acolyte’s flute, she simply sang. Water condensed out of the air in front of her face and formed into a drop in front of her face. It grew fat and round in response to her song. Soon a second drop of water formed a foot in front of the first. The drops swelled to about four inches across and, when they reached the right size, grew completely smooth and still. Dray still hummed, but the song was subtle and quiet. Her notes caused the water to drift away a few inches and then closer to each other. When she nodded in satisfaction Plafius stepped up and she slid aside.

  “I see raiders on the walls,” Plafius said, “They have horns. They must have started the fire.”

  “How did they get free?” Peek asked.

  “Wait, is that…”Plafius motioned to Dray and pointed to the right. She changed her song and the water moved in response. “…it is. Vlek is at the gate.

  “What?” Dray and Peek demanded in unison. But when Dray stopped her song, the water dropped to the ground with a splash.

  “I saw raiders on the walls and Vlek with some raiders standing at the gate,” Plafius reported, “I don’t know what that means, but I don’t think it’s good.”

  “That idiot,” Peek shouted, “He tried to play both sides. We have to save the monastery.”

  “What about Locambius?” Plafius asked.

  Peek looked at him for a few moments before responding, “We have to save the monastery first.”

  “Right,” Dray put her arm around Peek and led him to the east, “let’s see if there’s anyone in the village that can help us.”

  They kept to the edge of the trees and walked inland toward the village. When they got close they didn’t see anyone around. After a few more minutes they stood at the edge of the trees with the village between them and the monastery.

  “If we go quickly they probably won’t notice us,” Dray said.

  “Can you keep watch on the monastery?” Peek asked her.

  “I could. I’ll go back a ways,” she nodded, “I’ll tell you if anything is happening.”

  “How will you do that,” Peek asked.

  Dray smiled, walked about ten feet away and then sang something under her breath. Peek couldn’t understand it at first, but then he heard her singing in his ear, “I’ll whisper on the wind.”

  Peek looked after her in bemused awe. Plafius laughed and clapped Peek on the shoulder. After a few minutes Dray was in position and sang to them, “I’m ready when you are.” Peek still felt an odd mixture of fear and intimacy at having Dray whisper to him from such a distance. He swallowed and followed Plafius toward the huts of the village.

  After the monks had stacked the dry stone with magic, the villagers mixed mud and clay together to form a sort of mortar and plaster that coated the walls of the huts. Without the inexhaustible fire of The Melody, the villagers found it much warmer and drier to have their walls covered and sealed. Peek crept behind Plafius and they huddled behind the closest hut for a moment.

  “We should check the chief’s hut first,” Peek whispered.

  “Why?”

  “Cor might be there.”

  “We can trust him?”

  Peek thought for a moment before responding, “Absolutely.”

  Plafius didn’t require more. He started walking toward the center of the village. Still no one showed. They may have been hiding within their huts or they may have been fueling the fire at the monastery. Peek steeled himself and kept walking. Though the village hadn’t offered much of a home to him, these were still people and they deserved a better end than becoming cord-wood.

  On the opposite side of the chief’s hut from the door, they stopped. Peek put his hand on the side. He didn’t feel anything at first, but then, after a moment, he felt the slightest vibration. He’d used this trick in the past to see if anyone was awake when he returned to Vlek’s hut. A voice from inside would create just the tiniest movement in the walls. Peek looked at Plafius and nodded to indicate that there was someone inside. They circled the hut and stood by the leather flap for a moment.

  “He did what?” Peek recognized Cor’s voice.

  “He set the raiders free. He spoke with them in their language. When they got free they took the horns from the monks and started burning.” Peek didn’t recognize this voice.

  “How many?” Cor asked.

  “A dozen or so. The rest stopped fighting and threw down their instruments.”

  “How did you escape?”

  “We were by the gate when the raiders attacked the monks.”

  “How many made it?”

  “Just us.”

  “Can we get the rest out?”

  “Not without Vlek.”

  Cor’s voice dropped low so Peek could barely hear, “Can we trust him?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what terms he negotiated with the raiders. It was all done in their language.”

  “Thank you.” Cor’s tone indicated his questioning was complete.

  Peek realized that they would be discovered eavesdropping if anyone stepped outside. Instead of appearing devious, he stepped up to the leather door and pushed it aside as if he had just arrived. Plafius followed behind after a moment’s hesitation.

  “We’ve heard that Vlek has taken the monastery with the raiders,” Peek stated, “Will you help us retake it?”

  “He hasn’t hurt the villagers.” “Why is that our problem?” “Didn’t you abandon us already?” “Do it yourself.” The comments swirled around Peek, but he remained focused on Cor.

  “It is true that Vlek hasn’t hurt any of our people. But…” Cor looked at Peek for a long moment before continuing, “…but he has been known to hurt people when they lose their usefulness. I am his own son, and I have witnessed his nature firsthand. Vlek is more conniving than wise. He doesn’t seek what is best for the village, but what is best for himself.”

  The murmur of the gathered remnant grew to a tumult. Some shouted for Cor to respect his father. Others yelled their support. Some recounted moments when they had seen Vlek at his worst. Rea stepped forward and, after a moment, the crowd quieted enough for her to speak.

  “Cor is Vlek’s son and I his daughter,” she stood contritely enduring the fading catcalls and hoots, “I watched Vlek after our mother died. He began to love drink more than anything. At first he simply drank until he couldn�
��t move. But as he developed a stomach for it, his drunkenness became more… active. He would curse at me so I spent time away. It is my own fault that during my time away I took to the beds of other men,” Rea blushed furiously and some in the crowed murmured, but she pressed on, “At the time it seemed like the best choice. When I was with child, Vlek raged. He blamed me for ruining his chances of becoming chief. When Peek was born — and Vlek would allow him to be called by no other name — he became the focus of all that anger.

  “Peek,” she looked at him instead of Cor or anyone else in the hut, “I am sorry that I didn’t defend you. I wish I could undo it. I wish I could… I can’t. But I can tell you, and everyone here, that Vlek is a drunken, conniving, vindictive, beast who is only kind when it is in his own interest,” her voice rose and its pace quickened with passion, “He may treat you well for now, but at some point he will find more value in hurting you and you won’t know it until the time has passed and the wound has been delivered. He used the monks to rebuild our village and then betrayed them,” here Rea paused and scanned the assembled villagers, looking at each one in turn before saying, “Would he do any different with you?”

  The tumult rose again, but most of the shouts were in agreement with Rea. They slowly unified into a chant: “Down with Vlek! Down with Vlek!”

  “We should disable the raiders, not kill them,” Plafius was saying to Cor. He took over the planning as Peek adjusted to his mother’s confession and the village’s rejection of Vlek. In one moment he thought of the joy that should accompany this revelation. He was no longer alone. He was no longer the only one who knew about Vlek’s violence and manipulation. But something private and personal had been taken from him. His abuse was now public knowledge. His shame was his identity. Rea had stripped Peek bare.

  “Were they not disabled before and Vlek freed them?” Cor asked.

  “They were tied, but not disabled. My apprentice and I can do magic differently than the other monks. We have other ways to disable the raiders.”

  Cor gave Plafius a quizzical look, “Peek is your apprentice?”

  The question hovered in the air between them. Peek looked at Plafius, but also saw Locambius’ face there reflected in his oldest friend and dearest enemy.

  Peek shook his head, groping for words.

  Plafius continued as if nothing were amiss, “My apprentice is Dray. She is standing watch at this moment. With her help, we can put the raiders to sleep. Then we will load them on their longboat and sail them away from this place.”

  “Why would you do that?” he half rose from his seat, “Why not just kill them? Why can you monks not kill?” Cor slapped his hands on the arms of the chief’s chair.

  “The Melody creates,” Plafius said softly, “It is not for us to destroy.”

  Cor threw his hands up, “What does that even mean?”

  “Our music and magic comes from the song that makes and remakes the world each day,” Plafius sounded like any one of Peek’s teachers lecturing him at length, “We call it The Melody and we play reflections of its beauty. It would mar that beauty if we used it to kill.” Plafius’ eyes fixed on Cor as he spoke.

  “Then why can the raiders use the magic to kill? Why does The Melody allow that?” Cor asked.

  “It would not be creative if the outcome were predetermined,” Plafius half shrugged, “The Melody creates with its song and we create along with it. But if we could only sing one type of song or only play it in one way, that would limit us and in that limiting we would not be creating but copying.” Plafius turned to look at Peek as he continued, “That’s what I learned and what drove me away from my brothers and sisters. I learned that The Melody doesn’t just want us to mimic its song, but to imitate it’s singing.”

  Peek didn’t quite understand. The words rang with truth, but the meaning floated just out of reach.

  “I won’t pretend to know what you mean,” Cor said, “But we’re with you. What can we do to help?”

  “Thank you,” Plafius turned back to Cor, “We will need someone to get the gates open for us so we can slip inside and put the raiders to sleep.”

  “Why can’t you do that from outside the monastery?”

  Plafius nodded, “We sing a song for each person to sleep. If we don’t know where they are, we can’t sing to them and they won’t go to sleep. If we miss one person that one could wake up everyone else.”

  “Okay, I’ll go with you and ask to talk to Vlek,” Cor said, “Maybe I can help him.” He looked over at Rea with his last words.

  “Your help is appreciated,” Plafius said, “We couldn’t do it without you.”

  Peek watched his brother step down from the chief’s dais and walk toward them. It seemed right for it to be Cor. His genuine, open, happy personality made people want to follow him. His concern for other people, even people weaker than him, made him a good person to follow. Peek smiled at the success of his uncle-brother. Things seemed to be turning out well for once.

  Dray’s whisper-song buzzed in Peek’s ear, “They’re coming!”

  Twenty-Six

  When, at long last, Talib died, his final decree was that Darrah should rule after him. Though she did not want the post she was the most experienced and qualified of any disciple. However half of the disciples would not follow a woman, no matter how wise and powerful. The other half of the disciples supported Darrah’s claim to the throne.

  Disagreements sparked arguments, which flared into fights. At first the fights were merely brawls between the disciples. There were black eyes and sore ribs the next day, but everyone survived. But one day in the throne room the disciples were arguing about Darrah’s fitness to rule. One of the disciples who supported her raised his reed pipes and began to play the fire-song. One of the disciples who opposed Darrah raised his pipes in response, but before any of their magic could come to fruition Darrah quickly played the water-song and doused the whole room in a torrent of rain.

  “Knowledge is the path to both creation and destruction.” Vitus of Draoi Baile

  P

  eek looked at Plafius. He had heard it too. The raiders were on their way to the village.

  “My apprentice just warned me, the raiders approach,” Plafius shouted.

  Cor froze for a moment and then sprinted to the door of the hut.

  “Everyone, prepare for an attack!” Cor shouted out the door before turning back to Plafius and Peek, “What would you have us do?”

  “Are your villagers trained? Will they prepare well at your command?” Plafius asked.

  “No,” Cor shook his head vigorously, “They have no more training than the last time we fought the raiders.”

  “They why did you tell them to prepare if they don’t know what to do?” Plafius continued.

  Cor shrugged, “I don’t know, it seemed like the right thing to do.”

  Plafius looked around at the gathered villagers. The few who had escaped only outnumbered the Markay by a handful. They would fall easily before the trained, seasoned warriors.

  “Can you communicate with Dray?” Peek asked quietly.

  “No, I cannot sing The Melody, only play it. She learned that skill herself.”

  “What will she do? She’s out there alone with the raiders coming,” Peek started to move toward the door.

  “She’s fine. She is at least as adept at the magic as you are. What could you do that she could not?” The words took Peek in the gut. He wanted to run to Dray’s defense, but in all likelihood, she would end up defending him. Peek could either profane the magic of the monks or suffer defeat by the raiders in the same way that they had.

  “I will defend the hut,” Peek said to Plafius but loudly enough to be heard by Cor. Plafius didn’t argue, he simply nodded and walked over to Cor. Together they made plans.

  Peek followed them to the door of the hut and outside. When they stepped into the light they saw the massed raiders marching down from the monastery to the village. Vlek walked triumphantly at the fore of
the two-dozen raiders. They had reclaimed their weapons and walked with them drawn and ready. Plafius and Cor stepped forward into the clearing that fronted the chief’s hut. Peek stayed back by the door of the hut, but pulled his pipes out to be ready to play any of the songs that he knew. His knowledge of The Melody was sparse compared to Locambius, but he knew the basic elemental songs and could play them with power.

  Cor held the chief’s staff and stood on the right, Plafius pulled out his double-reeds and stood to the left with enough space in between that they presented two targets to the raiders instead of just one. Vlek glared at Cor as he stopped on the opposite side of the village’s communal fire pit.

  “What are you doing with my staff?”

  Cor glanced at Plafius before responding, “I did not know you still lived. Word was the raiders had escaped. I feared the worst and did not want to leave the village undefended.”

  Peek could see Vlek parsing the words for anything offensive. He couldn’t find anything at first so he dropped it, though Peek could tell that the apparent affront rankled him.

  “Village ours now,” the raider who had translated for Svag said.

  “Yes, the village belongs to the raiders and us,” Vlek said hooking his thumbs into the belt around his waist, “We don’t need the monks to defend us anymore.”

  “I don’t think…” Cor started to respond.

  The Markay translator grabbed Vlek from behind with his left hand and raised his right, holding a sword, to the point where Vlek’s neck met his shoulder. Peek’s grandfather swore in surprise.

  “Village ours or talker dies!” Karl bellowed at them.

  Peek watched as Cor stepped forward a half pace before Plafius could pull him back and whisper something to him. Cor stood firm, but his hands trembled slightly and his knuckles were white where he gripped the staff.