The Exiled Monk (The World Song Book 1)

by James T Wood

  Something about the rocking of the canoe alerted Peek. He had built this boat himself. Even with four people in it, it should not wallow in the water so. He played on, but spared a glance at the gunwale before him. It was sheeted with heavy layers of ice and the water was nearly lapping over its edge. The waves were nearly there, but if Peek didn’t stop they would sink into the sea and Locambius would die. Abruptly he stopped playing to the water and switched to the fire song. Not with the power to ignite, but to warm the hull of his canoe and free it from the ice that spilled off of the songs Plafius played and Dray sang. It melted, but too slowly. As it rotted and tattered, Peek dropped his pipes and used the paddle to slough off the weight. The canoe rocked back with the release.

  Dray and Plafius stopped and looked at Peek. “You were freezing us too,” he said to them, “Your magic is dangerous to us as well as the raiders.”

  Plafius cleared his throat and gave a slight shrug as he switched songs. Instead of throwing ice upon ice at the raiders he called forth seabirds in vast clouds. Gulls and puffins, cormorants and a lonely albatross, geese and ducks came from inland, and finches darted in between them all. They swarmed down on the first ship like bees to a new hive and the raiders ceased everything except trying to escape the birds. Dray at least looked somewhat ashamed for nearly sinking the canoe. When she sang again, the notes drifted out and called to the wood of the ships. Oars sprouted branches and leaves. Masts put down roots into the decks and vines enveloped whole ships with morning glory.

  Peek kept watch on the canoe for any spillover from their songs as he lifted his pipes again to join the battle. But before he could play a note the waves struck. The infant waves he had called forth at the horizon and coaxed toward the Markay were fully mature now and angry. The first rose up over the mast of the ship on the right of the fleet and dashed down on it with the power of an avalanche. When the wave passed, its prey lay on its side in the water and the raiders swam for safety. The next wave was twice the height and tossed three ships about like a child tired of its toys. Peek stared with a slacked jaw as the next wave sparkled in the morning sun. It leapt from the confines of the sea and smothered the ships. When the foam recede, the carnage revealed only a handful of ships remained upright.

  The ripples from these waves reached out to the canoe and set it to bobbing wildly in the water. Peek groped around for his paddle and turned the boat again so the bow faced into the oncoming rollers — fully as large as the waves on any stormy sea — and did his best to keep them afloat. Dray gripped the gunwales and Plafius leaned over Locambius to keep him safe and steady in the bow of the boat. The remaining Markay ships rocked and listed as the waves passed them. When the sea returned to the calm of morning the canoe faced four ships — one of which held the Markay prince, Svag.

  Plafius turned to Peek without losing his grip on the sides of the canoe, “All magic carries danger.” The words were faint after the roaring hunger of the waves. “The magic I do is risky. But so is life. Every moment we risk. If we try to eliminate all risks we don’t buy safety. We buy—”

  Whatever words Plafius meant to say were lost in the blaring sound of the horns that remained. Svag’s ship had no working instruments, but the other three played fire. It leapt up around them and danced on the water. Wherever the fire touched the sea little explosions of steam erupted. In a moment a wall of flame encircled them. The heat beat down upon them and the smell of boiling sea water brought a salty tang to the air. Peek dug his paddle into the water hard and turned the canoe so it wouldn’t be consumed by the fire. The circle around them measured three lengths of the canoe at first, but slowly it began to shrink. In moments they would be on a burning boat. After that they would swim or die.

  Peek thought over the battle, looking for a way out of their prison. Was Plafius right? Were the rules of the monks simply a facade? Peek’s attempts to help had caused as much damage to the raider ships — if not more — than the forbidden magic of Dray and Plafius. So where did the danger come from? Was it in mixing the magic — what killed the monks on the island, beat Vlek into submission, and nearly crushed more monks when Plafius patched the wall of the new monastery? Or was life itself dangerous and The Melody simply an extension of that danger? Peek shook his head to clear the roiling questions and focused again on the constricting flames.

  Plafius looked back again, “Peek, can you hold the air around us?” Peek nodded and began to play even as Plafius spoke over his head, “Dray, I’m going to sink us and take us under the raiders. Can you—”

  “Yes, go!” She gave him no time to finish. The flames were within the paddle’s length of the canoe.

  Plafius nodded and played. It sounded like the water song, but in reverse. It pulled and drooped. Peek fought to keep the air song playing and still around them as he finally understood what Plafius meant. They sank beneath the ocean as the flames passed over their heads. Peek kept a bubble of air around them, following them, as Plafius maneuvered the canoe beneath the water. The coolness of the air shocked Peek as the overwhelming heat of the fire dissipated into the steady chill of the sea. To the left a school of fish swam by. As they approached the Markay ships, Peek saw the oars as spidery legs sticking out of the giant black bodies silhouetted against the morning sky above. Of the starboard bow of the canoe Peek glimpsed a bearded face with vacant, staring eyes drifting downward under the weight of arms and armor. His dead grin accused them all.

  When they were under the remaining ships, Dray sang again. She sang to the depths. She sang of their need. She sang until tears stood in Peek’s eyes. Her call was answered by a behemoth. The groan of the beast vibrated every muscle in Peek’s body as it called out in response to Dray’s song. As it passed, Peek saw rows upon rows of teeth in its gaping maw and a giant eye just above and behind the mouth. It swam up, past their canoe, and clamped it’s immense jaws on the keel of the flagship. With a twist of its body, the monster snapped the keel and, with an almost negligent flip of its horizontal tail-fin, snapped the rudder as it spun around to dive again.

  Peek fought to keep the air around them even as he gaped at the carnage the whale had wrought. It dove and then rose again, battering another of the ships with its flat, wide snout. Peek watched as more raiders dropped into the water. Most swam away. Some sank down to be lost in the darkness below.

  Plafius moved them again. Two ships remained. Dray sang, but faltered. Peek felt the tingling in his fingers as he had when he fought off the raiders. He breathed, but the air tasted stale like a cave sealed too long. Plafius turned to Peek and tried to say something with his eyes, but whatever it was Peek couldn’t decipher it and keep playing at the same time. Dray coughed behind him and tried to sing again. The notes faltered in her throat.

  The notes of the air song grew longer as Peek fought to keep the tune going. The edges of the bubble around the canoe faltered and water dripped down upon them. Peek imagined drowning. He imagined his face looking like that of the raider who drifted by, grinning in death. The edges of his vision started to darken. Plafius played something, but Peek couldn’t understand what or why. He just doggedly continued to play the bubble of air around his canoe as his vision faded away. The last note of Peek’s song stopped, the bubble collapsed, and water poured down upon them.

  Locambius woke with a start and a curse. Peek shook water from his head and jealously inhaled the clean, fresh air in gasps. After a moment he dashed the water from his eyes and looked around to see the canoe on the surface of the water again. Plafius had taken them up high enough that when Peek stopped playing only a foot of water was left above them. The bubble popped and the canoe did what it was made to do. Peek looked back at Dray, she was pale, but gave him a weak nod and a smile. Locambius spluttered and sat up out of the water in the bottom of the canoe while Plafius slumped over at the bow. He wasn’t moving, but Peek didn’t have time to consider what to do about that. Plafius had brought them up, but had done so between the remaining ships. It took but a moment for
the harried and beset crews to spot them and shout the warning.

  In a moment archers lined the rails of the ships on either side of them. Peek looked around. Locambius continued to swear. Dray gasped. Plafius remained limp and unmoving. Peek’s heart pounded, but the words echoed to him from the past both near and far, “Don’t forget to breathe.”

  Peek inhaled as he’d been taught by Rudi. He held the breath in rhythm and Duhlga’s warm smile floated behind his closed eyes. He exhaled and heard The Melody swirling around him. The song was outside him as at the listening place, wafting through the machinations of the world, but it was also within him. Just as Peek had felt the movement of the boat and the waves as a song when he broke the magic that protected the island, he found his breath and heartbeat now echoed the strains of The Melody.

  He lifted his pipes even as the first arrows loosed from their nocks. Wind swirled around him at the call of the air song, but it also swirled within him. Peek felt as if he became the song he played. He rode on the wind and snatched arrows from the sky. Peek whirled faster and faster around the canoe swatting down the attacks of the Markay. He rose up to their level at the ship rails and stole their bows with a powerful gust. He heard their harsh curses as he sped by and then the sound from below caught up to him. The song played still from the pipes in the boat. Peek forgot for a moment that he could flit through the air on the wind and remembered that he was in a boat between two looming ships playing in desperation.

  Then he dove and became the water. Each bubble tickled his skin as he snaked and slithered under the hulls of the ships. He slid down from the waterline and found their keels cutting deeply into him. There he looked for any hole, any nook that would let him in and wormed inside. There he stretched as wide as he could, shouldering aside any obstacle and making room for himself. Far above, muffled through layers of wood, he heard more shouts; then they were within him, stepping through him as he wandered through their holds.

  Peek touched his body again and the song changed from the flowing of water to the rhythmic pulse of the earth. On his pipes he blew hollow, staccato notes to mimic the drums of those that chose the Earth-song. He sped away and down. He dove again, but this time he wasn’t the water. The water was above him, pressing down on him and through him. He was the sand at the bottom of the sea and he gathered himself to flow and move and dance. A thousand winters of currents and eddies flashed by. The sand bar that wanted to form under the Markay ships emerged in moments. The deep keels buried themselves in Peek’s chest; his arms reached up to cradle the bows. The rudders stuck fast in his teeth.

  Slowly, reluctantly, Peek pulled back within himself. A part of him wanted to explore every inch of the world. He wanted to be a leaping flame dancing for joy on a log. He wanted to ride with the boulders down a cliff, and then see the clouds from above. But faint shouts called him back. He lowered the pipes and looked around. Plafius still slumped at the bow, but the rise of fall of his back with each breath meant he lived. Locambius stared at Peek with red-rimmed eyes and a gaping mouth. Dray held him from behind as if her embrace could keep him from leaving the canoe again.

  Then Peek dropped against her chest in utter exhaustion.

  As Dray sang, Peek felt it vibrate through her. It felt like the rare lullaby he wished for. She sang the wind at their backs and the canoe lifted to skim the top of the waves. They raced away from the raiders. They raced back toward the village.

  With a start and a shout the longboat caught sight of them. They had no weapons so all they could do was swear and gawk as The Melody carried Peek’s canoe past them. Dray did not stop singing for a long time. She caught breaths and continued the song, but Peek noticed that by noon their speed had faded. He turned and lifted his pipes with a questioning look. She nodded and smiled as she ceased. Peek took up the refrain and they continued. Locambius roused, looked around and then huddled in the bottom of the canoe like a reprimanded child refusing to meet the eyes of anyone in the boat. Peek felt the old man’s gaze on him and wondered what he thought. Peek only played the true songs, the songs of The Melody that the monks had taught him, but still Locambius looked at him with judging eyes. If Peek ever looked from the horizon to Locambius, the old man quickly looked away. Would things ever be as they were? Peek drowned that thought and focused on the wind.

  At sundown they skittered around the cape where the listening place touched both their world and the realm of The Melody and into the broad inlet of Peek’s village. The walls of the monastery were patrolled. Shouts went up as they came into view. Peek slowed the boat and it gently slid to a halt on the shore between the monastery and the listening place. Cor was there, striding into the water and pulling the canoe farther up onto the beach. He turned and pulled Plafius and then Locambius out of the boat. When Cor’s hand found Peek’s their eyes met. What was that in his gaze? Respect? Honor? Peek didn’t know, but as soon as he stepped over the gunwale to the coarse sand, Cor pulled him into a rough embrace and held him there for a long moment before turning wordlessly to help Dray from the canoe.

  Epilogue

  P

  lafius left a few days after the incident with the Markay. Peek and Dray begged him to stay and not a few of the other monks took him aside to tell him that his exile need not be enacted. His service to the village and the monastery was celebrated and feasted, but Locambius glowered at him from afar and never approached his oldest friend after they departed Peek’s canoe on the shore.

  Locambius was not the same warm, welcoming man with Plafius around so Plafius decided to leave. On the second night after they returned, while deep in his cups, Plafius confessed to Peek that he could not stand to be the cause of so much hurt for Locambius, so he would go in search of the monk’s scriptures. Perhaps, Plafius thought aloud, that would assuage the pain his friend felt.

  Before they allowed Plafius to leave, however, Dray and Peek begged one favor of him. He pretended to consider for a long time before reluctantly accepting their request that he join them in marriage. Despite the looming reality of a hard, lean winter, the village and monks gathered and feasted together to celebrate the simple ceremony. Rea brought the last of the summer flowers scoured from the hills around the villages and handed them to Dray. She walked around the fire at the center of the village three times before stepping forward through the crowd to approach Peek. He stood between Cor and Plafius who both affected a solemn mien for the occasion. Dray had braided her hair into a crown that wound around her head and sparkled with pearls and amethyst gathered from the sea and the shore. Her simple tunic had been replaced by a linen gown that flowed around her to kiss the ground as she moved. Peek smoothed his hair again and straightened the new monk’s robe that he’d been given for the occasion.

  Plafius spoke the words of joining from the monk’s scriptures and Cor gave the blessing of the village and its ancestors while Peek and Dray gazed at each other. He nearly forgot to speak the words of promise to her that joined them in marriage. Dray’s eyes glittered dark in the firelight as she said the words back to him. They were married.

  Cor lifted the staff of the village chief over them, unable to restrain his grin. Rudi and Bracius played a benediction from The Melody that caused the flames to dance and glow as if the sun rose from the logs until it shone over them with light and music. Last of all, Plafius pulled out his old whistle, the one he’d used when he first came to the village. He sat on the log by the fire and played the song that called all who could hear The Melody to dance. Peek reached for Dray and together they danced until the world melted away and there was nothing left but their movement and a song.

  Afterword

  One of the rewards I offered to the Kickstarter backers was naming a character in the book. The award was selected and the person given to me as the model for the character was my late father-in-law Doug Thompson. He ended up being represented by the monk Duhlga who, just like Doug, died with breathtaking suddenness.

  When Andrea and I were preparing to get marrie
d we got proof copies of our invitations. We looked over them and everything seemed to be correct, except for the spelling of Doug’s name. The invitation read: Doulgas Thompson. Duhlga’s name came, in part, from that mistake (we kept the proof copy for fun).

  I chose to make Duhlga a woman, in part, because Doug valued the voice and power of women, both in his family and in his religious community. He led his church to rethink their exclusion of women from participation in worship, despite the cost to him personally. The other part of the choice was because Doug had a long-time friend who helped him to process and think through things, a woman of great learning who became my model for Duhlga – except for her hands. Her hands, strong and large, yet tender and loving, were based on those of Doug’s mother, Mildred. Her grandkids called her Mano. Her hands were anything but delicate, but she used them to provide so much care for so many people that their size and warmth came to be synonymous with comfort.

  It tore my heart out when Doug died. It was sudden and shocking. There was no reason, only a mindless accident. Yet the manner of his death did nothing to diminish the power of his life. He mentored and loved, laughed and taught with so many people that his memorial service was standing-room-only. I don’t know if the suddenness of Duhlga’s death struck you the same way it did me, but that aching loss with no real explanation was meant to echo the loss felt by all who knew Doug.

  I don’t know that any character on the page could adequately honor the life of a man like my father-in-law, but for me Duhlga became the representation of his well-lived life and his senseless death.