SongMaster's Realm

by Wolfram Donat

  Fender gestured to him. “Stay here, if you don’t mind, and I will grab something from the cooks. Would a bowl of stew, some bread and some ale be all right?” Joel nodded, unable to keep from licking his lips. The wizard smiled and vanished behind the doors to the kitchen.

  When he was out of sight Joel turned to the Ramiken sitting quietly on his shoulder. “You’re awfully quiet. Everything ok?”

  J’Mart stirred, as if Joel had interrupted a deep chain of thought. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just looking around and getting a feel for the place, if you know what I mean. It seems to me I’ve been in here before, but I don’t remember, and it’s bothering me.”

  “What do you think of Fender? You didn’t seem too thrilled.”

  “Nah, I just don’t trust magical folks when I first meet them. They all seem to be hiding something to me.” The little man grinned. “But don’t worry, I trust you. You’re just becoming a magician, so it’s ok. And I think this guy’s all right.”

  “Good. I don’t know why, but I really like him, and I only just met him. I don’t want to think I’m going soft.”

  J’Mart shook his head. “I’ll keep an eye on you and let you know when you’re getting soft. It’s the least I can do. Just don’t forget that he is a wizard.”

  As if on cue, Fender reappeared through the kitchen doors carrying a tray with two steaming bowls, a loaf of bread and two mugs. “Here we are. Shall we retire to my rooms so we can talk? It’s venison stew and whirg bread and a good batch of ale.”

  Joel was curious what exactly whirg bread was, but everything the other man was holding looked and smelled delicious and he was too hungry to spend time asking questions. Deftly balancing the tray, Fender let him back out into the courtyard and toward one of the towers opposite the royal house. Feeling somewhat like a puppy dog, Joel followed the smells and the magician up the stairs.

  SEVEN

  It took Joel about an hour to finish his story. It might have taken half as long, but he took his time to be sure he remembered everything correctly, and he was also stuffing himself as he talked. Whatever it was, whirg bread was delicious. He also had to deal with J’Mart’s occasional interjections, interruptions and corrections, all of which Fender listened to respectfully. Perhaps because of this, J’Mart soon seemed to lose his shyness and suspicion and was his old, mischievous self.

  He finished his story about the same time the last of his ale was gone. Joel had never been a fan of ale before, but it complemented the meal nicely. He leaned back and watched the wizard’s face as the old man produced a pipe from somewhere and lit it with his finger. What is it with wizards and pipes? Am I gonna have to start smoking?

  The wizard’s quarters were quite comfortable and roomy. As Fender led him up the stairs of the tower, Joel had expected some damp, drafty rooms, but was pleasantly surprised. His living quarters were larger than Joel’s apartment in Tempe. The walls were covered with shelves of scrolls and jars, and the floor was littered with jars, tables, chairs and other odds and ends. A small chamber off of the main room held a bed and a night stand, and another room off to the left seemed to be a laboratory of sorts.

  After Joel finished, Fender was quiet for a long time, deep in thought while he watched the Ramiken cavort around the room, snooping in various nooks and corners and inside the vast array of jars that were scattered around. Finally he looked at Joel. “If you don’t mind, could you play some of this myoosik for me? Call it a professional interest.”

  Joel shrugged and took his guitar out of the case. “Sure. Like I said, I’m not very good at the magic part, but you’ll have an idea of what happens when I play.” He placed his fingers and strummed the first few bars of Van Halen’s Eruption.

  As before, he was rewarded with an incredible display of lights and colors. Some dark reds and purples were dancing around his fingers while he was surrounded with a light show. Fender leaned back a bit so as not to be in the way of the colors, but watched calmly until Joel finished.

  “Interesting. Very interesting. Hold on just for a moment. I seem to remember…” The wizard got up, mumbling to himself, and walked over to one of the many shelves of scrolls lining the walls. Still talking quietly to himself, he picked up and discarded several different scrolls until he found the one he wanted. “Yes, just as I thought. Gilliwag, it was, after all. Unknown Forms of Magic and Sound.” He sat down again across from Joel.

  “What is it?” asked Joel. “You know what’s going on?”

  “Well, in a sense. Obviously, Massar was correct about your music having some magical powers. What he didn’t elaborate on was just how much power your music might have. There’s a lot of untapped power there.”

  “So who’s Gilliwag? What’s in the scroll?”

  “While your talent is quite unique and definitely impressive, you might not be the first in Alera to possess it. Gilliwag was a scholar who lived quite a long time ago – almost a thousand years, to be exact. He writes about a man he called SongMaster, who manipulated a strange contraption with strings and produced the most incredible results. Very similar to yours, as a matter of fact. Unfortunately, Gilliwag is long on description and short on instructions, but at least it helps a little to figure out what’s happening.”

  “And that is?”

  They were interrupted by a large crash. During the course of his inspection, J’Mart had lost his balance and knocked over a large earthenware jar. The two men simultaneously jumped to their feet, but Fender already had his hands out and his mouth was working furiously as a glowing green liquid flowed across the floor. J’Mart disappeared with a loud ‘pop’ as the liquid spread.

  Fender, however, continued to mutter under his breath. The air around his hands began to shimmer like the air over a road on a hot summer day. The shimmering intensified, and then shot toward the spill. As soon as the shimmering air contacted the liquid, the spill stopped spreading as if it had hit a wall. The shimmering then seemed to form a scooped shape, which proceeded to lift the green ooze off of the floor and deposit it back into the jar, which righted itself as the levitating liquid approached.

  The entire event took less than thirty seconds. Fender smiled, shook his hands as if shaking water droplets off of them, and looked at his handiwork. The floor was completely dry and unchanged, save for a large dark discoloration the size and shape of the spill.

  Joel was silent. Aware that his jaw had dropped slightly, he consciously closed his mouth before stuttering, “That – That was incredible! What did you do? What was that stuff?”

  Fender, for his part, seemed relatively unruffled. “That, my boy, was pure essence of dragon’s blood. Nasty stuff in large quantities. Luckily, I have an applicable enchantment handy. It’s not something you would want to leave lying around any longer than you’d have to.”

  As if on cue, there was another ‘pop’ and J’Mart reappeared, looking sheepish. He stared inquisitively at the floor, then looked at Fender and Joel. “Hmmm… Would ‘sorry’ cover it? See, I thought I saw a fundarg, and I was racing to capture it for you – nasty things, fundargs – and it hit the side of the jar, and –”

  Joel held up his hand. “What the hell did you think you were doing? The truth, I mean. And what the hell is a fundarg, anyway?”

  Before J’Mart could answer, Fender chuckled. “Peace, Joel. Although I seriously doubt the Ramiken saw a fundarg, no harm was done.”

  J’Mart straightened up defensively. “But I did see one! Right over there!”

  Fender raised an eyebrow and looked at the Ramiken closely. “Really? Because to the best of my knowledge, fundargs don’t exist on Alera.”

  The little man crossed his arms and frowned, sulking. “Shows what you know,” he muttered. “I conjured one just the other day.”

  “Which you proceeded to make vanish,” answered Joel. “All right, enough of this. Fender, I’m sorry. Can we get back on subject?”

  “Of course,” the wizard answered. “What was I saying? Oh, yes – Gilliwag a
nd his scroll. Gilliwag doesn’t specify how the SongMaster did what he did, but he does a pretty good job of describing the effect, and it describes what you were doing very well. I think once you get the hang of the power you might be a force to be reckoned with.”

  “Well, I’m not thinking that far ahead right now. It’s weird enough to me that I can do it at all. So putting the music magic aside for the time being, what about the other stuff? The Duran, and the Two, and Massar, and…”

  Fender nodded solemnly. “Yes, there is much to think about in what you have told me. First of all, you should be aware that Massar is almost a legend on Alera. He lives in the Northern Wastes in an unreachable mansion, and hasn’t been seen by a living soul that I know of in hundreds of years. I was just thinking about him earlier today, so it is an unusual coincidence that you showed up later sent by him.”

  “Wizard, you know as well as I do that there is no such thing as coincidence,” interjected J’Mart. “It’s a convenient way for regular people to make sense of what’s happening in their lives, instead of dealing with the Two.”

  “True. I’m sorry, but I don’t know if Joel is ready to accept that fact just yet.”

  “Actually, a few days ago I would have laughed at you, but after what I’ve seen recently, it doesn’t surprise me. Call it Fate, the Two, whatever – it makes perfect sense to me,” answered Joel.

  “Good,” said Fender. “Call it the Two, then. Massar seems to be intervening in affairs, regardless of what he said about not being allowed to do so.” He lowered his voice slightly. “It may be selfish of me, but I hope he ‘looks in’ on you as he said he would. I would welcome the opportunity to meet him.

  “As for the Duran… All this is new to me. It seems to me I read something about it a very long time ago, but I have no experience with this kind of thing. It rings true, however. Can you describe the dream you’ve had to me?”

  Joel furrowed his eyebrows. “I don’t seem to participate in the dream at all – it’s more like I’m just watching everything happen. There’s a long hallway, and at the end of it is this big door that seems really important somehow. And there’s something about the tiles on the floor, but I don’t remember. Then I float up the hallway and the door opens.” Fender was listening intently. “Inside there’s this little room, and there’s a book on a table, and a wall of glass, or a mirror or something. And there’s a girl there, too. She can’t be more than fourteen or fifteen. She reads…?” Joel paused, trying to remember.

  “She reads from the book, bows her head, and then walks into the wall and disappears,” finished Fender softly. He smiled at Joel’s expression. “Yes, I have been experiencing the same dream as you. According to what Massar told you, that means that I am also equipped to help. And it appears that I must.” The two men looked at each other quietly.

  “All right, all right, let’s lighten up the party here,” exclaimed J’Mart, floating between them. “You’re both having the same dream. Massar’s a legend. The world’s going to be destroyed…” He stopped. “On second thought, let’s wait a moment before we lighten up. How are we going to fix this?”

  Joel looked at the Ramiken skeptically. “You’re going to help fix this?”

  “Well, of course I’m going to help fix it, you dolt! Do we have to go over the whole ‘magic man gives you a rock’ scenario again? That’s what I’m here for!”

  “Okay, just checking. Thought you might be more interested in making messes,” Joel shot back with a grin.

  The somber mood had lightened a bit. Fender rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “We have been experiencing a few unusual issues in Asria recently. This new information you bring makes me wonder if they are related. Did Massar specifically state that the Duran was here on Alera?”

  Joel shook his head. “I don’t remember, but I think so.”

  “Then we should speak with my good friend the Warmaster. My initial impulse, which we should probably discuss with him, is that we need to find out where the book is and send a party to retrieve it. For that, we will need his help.”

  J’Mart sighed loudly. “Oh, goody. More soldiers. Can we bring lots and lots and lots of them?” he asked sarcastically.

  Joel glared at the little man. “I’ll take all the help I can get, thank you. What is your beef with soldiers, anyway?”

  “Never mind. I’ll tell you some day over a cup of hot fluka. So we need to talk to the Warmaster, eh?”

  “His name is Gaen, and yes, we do,” answered the wizard. “And I definitely think we need to apprise the King of what is happening”.

  “Well, I’m following your lead,” said Joel. “I’m glad I’m here, and I plan to help, but since I’m completely new here, I’m also completely lost. I don’t know how you do things here.” He rubbed his chin. “Come to think of it, I’ve never been around a King before. Do I need to kneel before him and all that stuff?”

  Fender shook his head. “Kneeling isn’t necessary, especially since you are a foreigner, and technically not one of his subjects. A bow would probably suffice. King Peter is a good, honorable man whom I have served faithfully for his entire life. But before we visit him, let’s go see Gaen.”

  With no further discussion, Fender led Joel and J’Mart downstairs, out of the tower and across the courtyard to the royal house again. When they entered, they turned right, away from the kitchen, and walked down a long, dimly lit hallway until they reached a plain, unmarked door on the left. Fender knocked loudly, and it wasn’t long before the door swung open.

  Gaen was an imposing man, standing well over six feet tall and built like a tree trunk. Scars crisscrossed his face, and his nose looked like it had been broken several times. His hair was gray, and cut extremely short. There was a commanding aura about him, and there was no doubt that he was a lifelong warrior. When he saw Fender, the scowl he was wearing softened. “Wizard! You bring more news?” He looked quizzically at Joel, seemingly unaware of J’Mart’s presence.

  Fender smiled. “Yes, you could say that I do. This young man is Joel, and he has told me an incredible story I would like to share with you. May we come in?”

  The Warmaster stepped back, clearing the threshold. “Of course. I’m sorry, but I forget my manners. I am just an old soldier. Joel, it is a pleasure to meet you. Come in.”

  Joel stepped inside and was immediately struck by the differences between Fender’s quarters and Gaen’s. While Fender’s rooms obviously belonged to a scholar and a scientist, Gaen’s clearly were the home base for a soldier. The furnishing was Spartan, and the walls were bare save for a few decorative swords and a shield hung above the small fireplace in the corner. It was clean and warm, but lacked the comfortable, homey feel that the wizard’s quarters had. He had the feeling as he looked around that the Warmaster did not spend much time in his rooms.

  Once they were settled, Fender asked Joel to tell his story again, which he did. About halfway through, when he was describing the voices in the void, Gaen stood up. “I could use an ale. Joel? Telling a tale’s thirsty work.” He disappeared around the corner and reappeared with three mugs. Joel gladly accepted the proffered drink, and then continued. The Warmaster sat quietly through the rest of the tale, and remained silent for a moment after Joel finished.

  “SongMaster, eh?” he asked, looking intensely at Joel. “I like it, though I’ll have to see this magic of yours. As for your story, that’s quite a whopper.”

  “What part don’t you believe?” asked Joel a little defensively.

  “Oh, I’m not saying I don’t believe you,” the warrior answered. “It’s just quite a tale. I have to look at all sides of this. And though I can’t imagine why someone would dress themselves this outlandishly and travel to the palace and try to put one over on the King and his advisors, I have to consider that possibility. It’s nothing personal.”

  Joel was getting a little tired of people making mention of his clothes. “I understand your disbelief. Hell, I have a problem believing it myself. But Fender’s
seen my magic skills, what little they are, and he’s having the same dream. And I wish you could see J’Mart, but I guess that’s not possible.”

  Gaen raised his hand. “Easy, Joel. I think it’s pretty likely that you’re telling the truth. I just wanted you to know that I’m not necessarily as gullible as my friend tends to be. I’ve lived through enough ambushes and wars and skirmishes and Two-knows-what-else to keep one eye open and look before I jump.” He stood and started pacing the room. “I wish I could see your- What did you call it? A Ramiken? But I have no magic in my blood. Just suspicion and steel. I will accept Fender’s word that it exists.”

  “Excuse me?!” J’Mart had been strangely quiet up until now. “It? I’m no it! Needs some proof, does he? I’ll show him some proof!” The Ramiken was obviously agitated. He clapped his hands and pointed both index fingers at the pacing Warmaster.

  Nothing happened for a moment, but then without warning, Gaen’s feet left the floor and shot toward the ceiling, while the rest of his body inverted itself. In almost no time at all, the old warrior was hanging upside down in midair, looking decidedly foolish.

  “Er, J’Mart is a little offended that you called him an ‘it,’” said Joel, wincing. The expression on Gaen’s upside down face was rapidly changing from surprise to anger. “I’m very sorry, sir. J’Mart! Will you put him down?”

  The little man appeared to consider for a moment, then shrugged. “Fine. I hope he got the idea.” He pointed at Gaen again, and the man fell to the floor with a thud. Showing incredible grace and agility for such a big man, Gaen sprang to his feet immediately with his sword drawn and his eyes darting around the room.