SongMaster's Realm

by Wolfram Donat

  “And?”

  “Well, there is good news and bad news. The good news is that it is indeed here on Alera. The bad news is that it lies north of Asria, on the other side of the Northern Wastes.”

  J’Mart cocked his head, reminding Joel of a parrot. “It’s been a while since I was here last, so I don’t remember everything, but that doesn’t sound like a pleasurable stroll.”

  “Not in the least. The Northern Wastes are one of the most inhospitable places you are ever likely to see on this world or any other. They are inhabited, but by creatures best left alone. Unfortunately, we will need to cross the Wastes to get to the Duran.”

  “So is there any way to get across them other than walking?” asked Joel. “Something magical, perhaps, or a flying machine…”

  “I’m afraid not. The only magician I’ve heard of with the power to transport anyone that distance is Massar. The rest of us are stuck walking. Our probable destination is too far from the coastline for us to sail.”

  “Wait a minute,” said J’Mart, holding up a hand. “Our probable destination?”

  The wizard nodded. “Unfortunately, there is something about the Duran’s location that seems to be blocking me from getting any specific information about it. I can pinpoint a general location, but nothing more.”

  “Okay, okay. It gives us a direction,” said Joel. “Do you have a map of Alera? I’d really like to see where we are, and where we’re going.”

  “Of course.” Fender led Joel over to another desk covered in scrolls, books and miscellaneous papers. He rummaged around for a moment and produced a map. “Beláin is here.” He pointed. “Here are the Northern Wastes and here is the area I believe the Duran is being hidden.” Joel almost expected to see Here Be Dragons written in a spidery script across the page. The wizard continued. “As you can see, it’s too far from the coast for a boat, so our path must follow this route, at least as far as the northern border. After that, we’ll have to choose our way carefully through the Wastes.”

  “And we’re bringing soldiers, too, right?” asked J’Mart. “Lots and lots and lots of soldiers?”

  Fender looked at the Ramiken strangely. “Yes, I need to fill Gaen in on what we’ve discovered so we can begin to make preparations to leave. I trust his judgment dealing with who and what to bring along.” He paused, and as if on cue, Joel yawned. “However, I think that we can wait for morning to confer with the Warmaster. It has been an eventful day for me, and I know it has been more so for you, Joel. Let’s get some sleep and visit Gaen tomorrow.”

  Joel, for his part, had no arguments. He was exhausted. He followed the wizard to what resembled a couch, lay down, and was asleep within moments.

  * * * * *

  Though he was tired, Fender remained awake long after Joel was asleep, contemplating their next move. He had tried to maintain an optimistic façade for the SongMaster’s benefit, but he knew the journey was going to be long and treacherous. Goblins were still common along Asria’s northern border, and nobody ventured into the Wastes without excellent reason.

  He glanced over at the sleeping man on the couch, then looked around. The Ramiken, J’Mart, was hovering over by a bookcase, inspecting the contents of one of Fender’s jars. He beckoned to the little man. “J’Mart? May we speak?”

  J’Mart floated over and sat down on the table in front of Fender. “Whatcha got on your mind?” he asked, grinning.

  “You were awfully quiet through the whole lecture about the Wastes and what lies ahead. Why?”

  The Ramiken shrugged. “Heck, if it’s all the same to you, doc, I’m just along for the ride.”

  “Somehow I doubt that. If you were nothing more than a powerless observer, Massar would not have given the S’Lel to Joel. What is your role in all of this?”

  J’Mart flipped over and stood on his head for a moment, thinking. “Remember, Merlin, I’m almost as clueless as you are. I’m helping him to learn his magic, I can tell you that much. I’m here to help him until his task, whatever it may be, is complete. But I don’t know much else.”

  “Who’s Merlin?”

  “Never mind. My point here is that I don’t choose who gets the S’Lel or why. I wake up when somebody rubs the rock and yells for help.” He frowned and rubbed his nose. “Now that I think about it, I’m really getting the short end of the stick, here. I need to renegotiate in a big way. Oh, well. Maybe next millennium.” He flipped over again and stuck a finger in his ear.

  Fender smiled in spite of the seriousness of the conversation. “You really can’t be serious for any length of time, can you?” he asked J’Mart.

  “Nope. It’s one of my many selling points. ‘New! This year’s model only! Comic relief in a rock! Get ‘em while they last!’ Or something like that.”

  “Well, there is definitely something to be said for the ability to lighten the mood in any situation. About the SongMaster,” Fender continued, changing the subject. “Just how powerful do you think his magic is?”

  J’Mart rubbed his chin, and his smile faded. “Seriously, I don’t know. I get the feeling Massar didn’t know, either, but I think Joel can do whatever he wants to, once he learns how to control it. There’s untapped power there beyond anything I’ve ever seen, except for a few.”

  “Like Massar?”

  “Like Massar. Of course, he kind of rewrote the rules on mortal magic, didn’t he?”

  “Indeed he did,” Fender replied thoughtfully. “I would very much like to meet him.”

  The Ramiken grinned. “I think you’re gonna get a chance, Mr. Wizard. But trust me – he’s not all that great. Like I told Joel, I actually saw him make a mistake once. And if he did it once, he’s bound to do it again. Don’t get all antsy and excited when you see him coming. That gets old real quick.”

  Once again, Fender couldn’t help but smile. “I promise I shall keep my decorum. Now I think I should get some sleep before morning.”

  “Oh, of course,” said J’Mart. “Good night!” He disappeared with a ‘pop!’

  It was a long time, however, before Fender actually closed his eyes and slept.

  NINE

  Morning came quickly. Joel was awakened by the sun streaming in through the windows. He groaned and rolled over, but no sooner had he moved than J’Mart had appeared and was jumping up and down on his stomach. “Come on, magic man! Come on! There’s things to do, people to see, journeys to take!”

  Joel sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Who the hell gave you alarm clock duties? Every other morning you’ve been nowhere to be found when it’s time to get up and go.”

  The Ramiken stopped jumping and shrugged. “Yeah, but this is different. Stuff’s happening. We’re talking to important folks. Anything could happen.” He rubbed his chin. “I suppose we could even die today, or tomorrow, or…”

  “Okay, okay, that’s enough morning cheer. I suppose I need to make myself a cup of coffee.” Joel stood up and headed for his guitar, still sitting in the corner where he had left it.

  Just then Fender walked into the room from the adjacent study. “Good morning, Joel,” he said pleasantly. “Sleep well?” The magician was carrying a cup of steaming liquid.

  “Actually, yes,” answered Joel. “Maybe I was just really tired, but that was the most comfortable couch I’ve ever slept on.” He looked at Fender’s cup. “What do you have there?”

  The magician smiled. “J’Mart told me your love of this beverage you call ‘coffee.’ I thought I would show you what is probably Alera’s alternative – mirpoix.” He held the cup out to Joel. “Here. Give it a try.”

  Joel held the cup to his face and breathed in the aroma. It had a musty, earthy aroma to it, but was not unappealing. He took a tentative sip and smiled. “This tastes almost exactly like a mocha!”

  Fender nodded. “I thought you would like it. It’s made from the roots of a local plant and is quite common. Not everybody likes the taste, but it does have its aficionados.” As Joel continued to sip the hot beverage, the o
ld man looked around the room. “Whenever you’re ready, Joel, we’ll meet with Gaen, and from there we’ll go see the King. You should probably take your instrument with you, since Peter may want to see a demonstration.”

  “Of course,” said Joel, and drained his cup. “I know we should be going. Let me just run some water through my hair and we can go.” He followed Fender’s wordless gesture to an elementary washroom, where he splashed enough water on his face and hair to feel somewhat human again. When he re-emerged a few minutes later, he felt refreshed and ready to face another day of brand new experiences.

  The three headed downstairs and across the courtyard. Joel had his guitar case slung over one shoulder, and J’Mart was riding on the other. Before long they stood again before Gaen’s door, and Fender was knocking quietly.

  The old soldier swung the door open almost immediately, and they all filed in. Gaen immediately noticed Joel’s guitar case and looked at it quizzically. Without saying a word, Joel opened the case and handed the instrument to Gaen.

  Gaen was amazingly gentle with it as he held it up, turning it this way and that as he inspected it. He did not pluck or strum the strings, but contented himself with a thorough visual inspection before handing it back to Joel. “‘Tis a strange contraption,” he said. “May I see it used?”

  Joel slipped into playing position and looked around for a suitable demonstration object before settling on an empty vase on the table. Once again, he visualized the vase floating and played the first few bars of Bach’s “Air on a G String.” The vase immediately rose from the table, surrounded by blue light, and floated about a foot in the air. Gaen, for his part, looked slightly surprised, but remained calm. Joel let the vase slip back down to the table and was quiet.

  “Impressive.” Gaen looked at Fender. “He doesn’t need spells?”

  Fender shook his head. “No, he is one of the few who does not need them. Apparently they are of no use to him at all.” One of the Warmaster’s eyebrows rose, but that was his only sign of surprise. Fender continued, “I have good news. I have managed, with the help of Joel and his Ramiken friend, to at least determine a general location of the Duran. It is here on Alera, luckily.”

  The soldier scowled. “There is something you’re not saying. Where exactly is it?”

  “That is not such good news. First of all, it is impossible for me to determine the exact location of the book. I believe something about it precludes an exact location from being determined, no matter what the spell.”

  Gaen snorted. “That figures. Nothing would be so easy. So where is its general location?”

  “North of the Northern Wastes.”

  “Then I am glad I chose the team I did, and I’m also glad it’s a small one. I picked my best people that aren’t currently at the front. They can be ready to go at any time.”

  “How many people did you pick?” asked Joel, thinking of J’Mart’s strange aversion to soldiers.

  “Six – all of them scouts, skilled in tracking and moving silently and unobserved. None of them have ever experienced anything like the Northern Wastes, but few people have.”

  “You sound as if you are one of those few,” said Joel.

  “Aye. When I was a much younger man I ventured through the Wastes for a time. That is a tale for another time, but it is an adventure I shall never forget.” The Warmaster visibly shrugged off memories. “I think it is time to see the King.”

  “I agree,” said Fender. “Let’s go.” They left the Warmaster’s chambers and turned left down the hall. They took a myriad of twists and turns and soon ended up in what looked to Joel to be a sort of sitting room. An ornate leather couch sat against the wall, and there was a fire burning in a small fireplace. Joel almost expected an array of magazines to be sitting on the small table.

  “You and the Warmaster please stay here,” Fender said to Joel. “I will see if Peter is available to speak with us.” That said, he ducked around the corner and disappeared. Gaen and Joel were left standing in the sitting room. Gaen was quiet, seemingly lost in thought, so Joel started pacing slowly – a habit he had never managed to overcome.

  He was a little nervous. For some reason, even after all of the things he had experienced so far, meeting a King was making him the most uncomfortable. He was unsure of how to act, and did not want to offend anyone or leave a bad impression. Joel felt a little like an emissary from Earth.

  Joel and Gaen had been waiting for about five minutes when a voice broke into their thoughts. “Warmaster?” Joel looked up to see a tall man walking quickly down the hall toward them. He was slender, but athletically built, with a full head of brown hair and a small goatee. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, and Joel guessed that women would find him attractive.

  The man strode up confidently to Gaen and extended his hand. “Well met, Gaen. Have you been waiting long?” He looked inquisitively at Joel.

  Gaen snorted. “No, not long, your Highness. Just waiting for the magician to get us an audience with your father.” He followed the other man’s gaze. “Prince Jared, this is Joel, the SongMaster. He comes from a different world. Before you ask questions, perhaps you should just wait and visit with your father with us and hear the story. Joel, this is Prince Jared, eldest son of King Peter.”

  Jared extended his hand to Joel. “Well met, SongMaster. It seems this is a tale I must hear. I was planning on some sparring practice, but this sounds much more interesting.” He looked Joel up and down. “I see from your clothes that you are indeed a stranger to these parts. Tell me, how do you like our world?” The Prince seemed to accept Joel’s appearance and Gaen’s story without question.

  Joel found himself at ease with the Prince. He had an easy-going manner that made Joel immediately like him. “It is very beautiful, sir,” he answered, not sure how to address the Prince. “Very similar in many respects to my own world.”

  Jared shook his head and smiled. “No ‘sir’ with me, SongMaster. ‘Jared’ or, if you must, ‘Prince,’ will do just fine. “And what is your world called?”

  “We call it Earth, but according to –” He stopped himself. “According to a friend of mine, the inhabitants of all kinds of worlds name their worlds the same thing in their own native language.” Joel wasn’t sure if he was supposed to spread knowledge of J’Mart’s existence around, so he wanted to be on the safe side.

  “So ‘Earth’ in your tongue is the same as ‘Alera’ in mine? Interesting. And you are a wizard of some sort, I take it?”

  “Not really, sir – Prince. I am just finding out about my abilities myself, and am learning how to use them. I’m not a wizard of any sort on my world – just a musician.”

  Jared looked puzzled, a reaction Joel was getting used to. “I do not know that word. Can you elaborate?”

  Joel was about to attempt to describe music without having to strum his guitar when Fender suddenly reappeared from around the corner. “Ah, Jared! Good. I was hoping you would be along in time. Joel, Gaen – King Peter will see us now.” Grateful for the interruption, Joel followed the other men through a series of doors into another, slightly larger, sitting room. J’Mart, who once again had clammed up in the presence of so many other people, still rode along on his shoulder.

  Fender looked at Jared and Gaen. “Jalis is here as well. He is already inside.” Neither man said anything, but all three exchanged looks silently.

  Jared was first to speak. “Well, if what you three have to say is as important as I feel it is, he must hear about it anyway. Let’s go.” He led the way through a set of large, ornate double doors into what was obviously a throne room.

  King Peter sat quietly in a simple chair, facing them. He was old, Joel saw, but not bent with age. A simple circlet of gold sat on his head, and he had white hair to his shoulders and a neatly trimmed white beard. He had piercing blue eyes with which he examined the men quietly as they entered. Standing next to the King was a man who looked very similar to Jared, if a bit shorter and stockier. Joel guessed that t
his was Jalis.

  Fender and Gaen bowed, and Joel, feeling somewhat self-conscious, did the same. When he straightened up, King Peter spoke. “Good day, SongMaster,” he said, then smiled at Joel’s uncomfortable expression. “Yes, Fender told me about you and your unique talents.”

  “A pleasure to meet you, your Majesty,” said Joel. “I hope he mentioned that I am still learning to use those talents.”

  “He did, and it is a pleasure to meet you as well.” He looked at Fender. “Now, magician: I am ready to hear this tale. I am glad my sons are here, for they should hear it also, if the situation is as grave as you say.” Joel now understood why Jalis looked so similar to Jared. Jalis was obviously younger, and had an air about him that Joel did not like, unlike Jared.

  Fender nodded. “It is, your Majesty – very grave. Joel comes to us from another world in order to save all worlds. I will let him tell you how he came to Alera, then I will say what we have discovered since.”

  All eyes in the room turned to Joel. Although it was a little unnerving, as a musician he was used to an audience. Starting at the beginning, he related again his meeting with Massar and the events leading up to meeting Fender. Nobody asked questions or interrupted, and he finished the story without incident. He omitted the part about the voices in the Void, however.

  When he was done, Fender spoke in turn, telling the King and his sons what they had learned about the book and its location. He was soon finished speaking. He looked calmly at the King.

  King Peter was quiet for a moment, stroking his beard thoughtfully. Then he spoke directly to Fender. “What do you suggest we do, Fender?” he asked. “This is far outside our normal realm of experience. I gather you would like to go after the book?”

  “I would indeed, your Majesty. I don’t think there is any question that we must do anything and everything that we can to prevent the use of the Duran, for that use means the end of Everything.”