SongMaster's Realm

by Wolfram Donat

  “Couldn’t know what?” asked Joel, still trying to wake up.

  “Ramikens and dwarves don’t get along well at all,” said Fender, walking up to Joel’s cot and handing him a cup of mirpoix. “Here. We’ll be leaving shortly, but I thought you might need this, seeing as how we kept you up late working last night.”

  “Don’t get along? Don’t get along?” asked J’Mart incredulously. “That’s putting it mildly, don’t you think?” He turned to Joel. “We’re not exactly bloodthirsty enemies, but we have fought in the past. And Ramikens don’t like to be called dwarves. That’d be like calling you a cherumchee.”

  “I’m sorry, J’Mart,” said Joel. “I had no idea. Blame it on my being tired.” He turned to Fender. “Thanks for the java. Everyone’s waiting on me, I take it?”

  As a matter of fact, the others in the party were too busy to worry about whether or not Joel was ready to go. The room was a bustle of activity as the party readied themselves to go, packing their things in rucksacks and assembling their weapons. After finished his mirpoix Joel got his meager collection of things together and stood by the door, ready to go.

  Ten minutes later they headed downstairs and to the stables where they were supposed to meet Withers. The old man was waiting for them, sensibly dressed in a brown cloak that looked both warm and waterproof and carrying a long staff. He called out as they strode toward him.

  “Are you ready to go? Have you all of your weapons and belongings? We cannot take the horses, you know.”

  “We know,” answered Frayne. “We are ready, man. We head due north for the time being, until the wizard tells us otherwise.” He pointed at Fender as he spoke. “Let’s get moving.”

  Without another word, Withers spun and strode off surprisingly quickly, leaving them to follow behind. He kept a good pace through the dark, abandoned streets of Gerund, and by the time the eastern sky was becoming light the houses and shops were becoming scarce. Looking in the direction of their travel, Joel could see a great mountain range covered with snow far off in the distance. They were entering a large valley with a river running through it. At the far end of the valley was a set of hills, beyond which he could not see the terrain. A low mist covered the ground, and it was quite chilly, though the pace they were keeping helped to keep him warm. They were following an old road, more like a trail than anything else. It was in severe disrepair, and Joel couldn’t help but wonder why anyone would build a road leading to the Northern Wastes.

  Although the river looked close by, distances were deceiving, and they didn’t reach its banks until almost lunchtime. It was not a large river, about fifty feet from one bank to the opposite shore, but the water was fast and very cold.

  Withers stopped and laid his pack on the ground. “Fill your water skins now,” he called. “Water’s scarce the further north we go – at least potable water. Which reminds me,” he said as the travelers unshouldered their packs. “After this point, do not eat or drink anything without asking me first, if you want to make it to the end of your little pleasure hike here. This valley and those mountains mark the northern border of Asria. Beyond this is the Northern Wastes. Drink up and fill up. We eat, then we go.”

  Lunch consisted of dried meat strips, berries and water. Their guide let them rest for a short time after lunch, perhaps mindful of the pace to which he had kept them all morning. Luana and Bowen napped. Joel found himself peering at the mountains to the north, trying to imagine what sort of landscape lay beyond them.

  He was lost in thought when J’Mart popped into existence in front of him. “Surprised you’re not napping,” said the little man.

  Joel shook his head. “Too much adrenaline,” he replied. “Wondering what’s over the mountains, how far it is to the Duran…”

  “Wondering if you’ll survive?” asked the Ramiken.

  “Well, now that you mention it, yes.”

  J’Mart waved his hand dismissingly. “I wouldn’t worry about it,” he said casually. “Between me and the wizard man and your special brand of magic I think you stand a relatively good chance of coming out of this okay.” He rubbed his chin. “Of course, I do tend to be an optimist.”

  Joel snorted. “You? Ha! You’ve told me more than anyone else that we’re going to be meeting monsters and fighting goblins and trying to stay alive.”

  “Not to mention trying to keep from being eaten by a jerganmux.” The Ramiken grinned at Joel’s expression. “Just kidding. There aren’t any of those here, I don’t think. If there were, I’d be wearing a lot more armor.” He looked over Joel’s shoulder. “Ah, hey! Here comes your girlfriend. Up and at ‘em, loverboy,” he said and disappeared with a ‘pop!’

  Joel looked up as Athena sat down next to him. “What’s wrong?” she asked him, studying his face.

  “Oh, nothing. I was just talking to J’Mart, and he’s got me believing I’m going to be eaten, mangled or killed by all sorts of monsters. Very uplifting stuff. I really need to stop listening to him.”

  She smiled. “Yes, you do.” She looked off toward the mountains and thought for a moment. “My father told me a lot of things when I was little. Most of them I remember, I think, particularly the important things.” She looked at him carefully. “Do you know what the most important thing he ever said to me was?”

  Joel shook his head.

  “It was that because you can never know what will happen on any given day, you should live as if that day could be your last. Don’t put things off because you don’t want to do them, and don’t live your life in fear and regret, either. Life is for living, not being scared of the future.”

  “We have a saying like that in my world, too,” said Joel. “Carpe diem. It’s Latin, which is an old language, and it literally means ‘Seize the day.’ I’ve always admired people who live that way.”

  She smiled. “‘Seize the day.’ I like that way of putting it. So you know the expression, then.”

  “I know it, and I know the sentiment behind it, and what you’re telling me. But remember, I’m completely out of my element here. I mean, a week ago I was playing a gig in downtown Phoenix and looking forward to the weekend, with no idea that any of this even existed. So I think I’m doing all right, all things considered. It’s just that I’m feeling a little overwhelmed at the moment, and J’Mart talking about justamuxes or whatever the hell it was isn’t helping.” He realized he was babbling a little, but he couldn’t stop himself.

  She stopped him by putting her finger over his lips. “Magician, you are doing very well for a newcomer indeed. Your magic is powerful, though you are still learning it, and you are facing the unknown as bravely as anyone could be expected to.”

  He moved her hand from his lips, but didn’t release it immediately. “Thanks. I’m glad you think so. I just wish I knew what was in store, you know?”

  She smiled again, mysteriously. “Nobody knows, SongMaster, except perhaps this Massar you have told us about. So enjoy today. Carpe diem.”

  He sighed and released her hand. “Because by the end of the day tomorrow I could be dead. Got it.” He softened his expression to let her know he was kidding, and the two of them began filling their water skins and getting ready for the afternoon’s trek.

  Withers led them at the same fast pace through the valley for the rest of the day. Once again, distances were deceiving, and when dusk arrived they seemed no closer to the small mountains that marked the northern edge of Asria. Frayne called a halt before it became completely dark, and they made camp quickly. Bowen and Athena disappeared to look for game, and Joel, at Fender’s urging, offered to start the fire.

  He knew that the wizard wanted him to practice, so he felt some pressure as he shouldered his guitar strap. Up until now he had had very little luck with fire starting; his biggest success had been a few glowing embers that wouldn’t ignite further. This time, though, he was determined to succeed.

  When the wood was set how he liked, he took a deep breath and began to play, welcoming once again the
lights and colors that accompanied his playing. When he was sufficiently warmed up, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the fire. This time, rather than visualizing the fire burning fiercely, he took it down a step, and simply pictured a small fire smoking among the kindling. Holding that picture in his mind, he held his breath and strummed a powerful A major, the chord that, to him, symbolized fire.

  The effect was instantaneous. A bright red streak of light shot from the guitar to the pile of leaves and twigs, and a second later a tiny flame was licking the bottom of the wood piled above. At the same time, Joel felt an intense surge of heat flow from his fingertips.

  He was almost too surprised to move, but he gathered his wits and knelt before the fire, blowing carefully to keep the flame lit and allowing it to catch the larger pieces. It wasn’t long before the fire was burning brightly, just as Athena and Bowen arrived with a skinny poppil that Withers pronounced fit to eat.

  Joel couldn’t stop grinning as the bird cooked. He had actually started a fire! For some reason, it signified more than anything else he had done so far that he was doing magic. Fender congratulated him, but then cautioned him that he needed more practice after dinner.

  “It’s an impressive step, Joel, but it is just the beginning.”

  “Oh, I know,” Joel replied. “I’m just ecstatic that I could do it at all.”

  True to his word, as soon as everyone had finished the small meal, Fender took Joel aside and began teaching again. “Concentration is a very important part of the magical process,” he told Joel. “It doesn’t matter what sort of magic you practice; if you can’t concentrate on your desired result, you can’t do the magic. Period. So I’m going to outline some mental exercises for you that should strengthen your powers of focus.”

  “It’s hard for me to concentrate sometimes because I’m still fascinated by what my magic looks like, since I’ve never been able to do anything like it before.”

  “Agreed,” said Fender. “You are at a disadvantage as a novice. And I must say that the unique character of your power can be quite a distraction. Thus it is all the more important that you learn concentration skills.”

  That said, Fender gave Joel some visualization exercises to sharpen his focus. “Pick an object,” he told him. “It doesn’t matter what, but it should be relatively complex. A rose, for instance, would be a good choice.”

  Joel couldn’t help laughing. “Now that you’ve said that, I’ll be hard pressed to picture anything else. Let’s go with a rose.”

  “All right,” said Fender, smiling. “Now I want you to close your eyes and picture, in your mind, every facet and detail of that rose, in as much detail as possible. You should feel like you could reach out and touch it, it’s so real. And don’t just focus on how it looks, either. Feel its texture, and try to smell it. I want that rose to become more real to you than a real one.

  “Take your time. When you feel like it’s ultra-real to you, then – and only then – I want you to pick a sound the way you normally do and try to materialize it.” Fender looked at him closely. “Take your time, and I want to tell you this: materializing objects is not simple stuff. I know you’ve done coffee, and it shows just how much power you have, but this is more than a materialization exercise. It’s all about the concentration needed. Ready? Go.”

  Joel closed his eyes, and as he began to picture a rose, he heard footsteps as his companions walked away from the lesson, probably aware that there wouldn’t be a show that evening. All the better, he thought. It was hard enough to concentrate when Athena was around, much less when they all congregated around his lessons.

  For an hour he worked with Fender, until his growing headache made him call a halt. He had pictured, and then materialized, a rose, an orange and a small wooden ball, which he put in his pocket. It was hard work, but the wizard was supportive and encouraging.

  Although he wanted to continue, perhaps with something a bit more impressive (Athena had been watching, after all,) his headache and the fatigue forced him to stop. After reassuring himself that he didn’t have a shift on watch that night, he curled up in his blankets and was soon fast asleep.

  The next morning Withers woke them all at sunrise. The air was still, and very chilly. Joel could see his breath as he rolled up his bedding and dug in his pack for some nuts. “It’s been a very long time since I was anywhere I could see my breath,” he said to Step as he sat on a log, watching the sunrise. “It’s cold out here, but it’s beautiful, too.”

  “You just keep reminding yourself of that, buddy,” said Step. “It’s not going to be that beautiful that much further on, you know.”

  “Have you ever been this far north before?” Joel asked his friend.

  “Nope. Never had a reason to go. After I joined the King’s Scouts when I was sixteen, they sent me south, to fight Sarth. That’s where I’ve been ever since. This cold is damned uncomfortable, I’ll tell you. It gets into your bones and makes it hard to fight. Makes you stiff.”

  Joel was fascinated by the stories Step had told him about fighting in the border skirmishes in southern Asria. The shorter man had, as he put it, “packed a lot of living” into his twenty-five years, and was the first to admit that he was lucky to be alive. But he had volunteered to come on this journey, he had told Joel. “There’s too much at stake to be scared. I’d be more scared if I did nothing. And besides,” he had said, grinning, “this is gonna be one heck of an adventure, no matter what old Warmaster says.”

  Joel jerked himself back to the present and helped Step pack up his bedroll. “Think we’ll reach the mountains today?”

  Step shrugged. “Depends on if the old man keeps running us into the ground like he has. Don’t know what his hurry is. They don’t seem that far away, but then the Skeen didn’t seem that far away yesterday either, and it took us half the day to get to its banks.”

  The two of them finished their meager breakfast, shouldered their packs and gathered with the others. Withers was ready to go, and barely looking to see if everyone was ready, took off towards the north with the same pace as before. “Guess that answered that question,” said Step to Joel as they started hiking. Luckily, Joel had slept well, and he wasn’t nearly as sore as he had expected.

  The miles did indeed seem to vanish with the pace, and by the time late afternoon had come they had arrived at the hills marking the border of Asria and had begun to climb. Although the slope was not terribly steep, nor the mountains very high, the terrain was rugged, and the group was forced to slow considerably. At one point, Bowen slipped on a rocky slope and began to fall. Luckily Luana thought quickly and grabbed him before he completely lost his footing. It would have been a bad fall.

  Sundown found them still on the southern side of the mountain, not far from the pass over the peak that they had been heading toward all day. Frayne called a halt in a large clearing and they settled in for the night. While the hunting party set off to find some game after getting Withers’ approval, Joel once again took control of the fire. This time he was ready for success, and it didn’t take him long at all to get a roaring blaze going.

  The hunters had less success, however, and returned empty handed. Bowen hadn’t even taken a shot, he said; there were simply no game animals around. Withers grunted and showed everyone what plants and berries were safe to eat, so nobody went hungry or had to rely on his or her packed rations.

  After dinner, Fender once again sought out Joel for his lesson. This time, he had a more subtle project in mind. “Focus on a particular branch,” he said to Joel, pointing at the roaring fire. “Choose a small one.” Joel nodded. “Now put the fire out,” said the wizard.

  Joel had to sit back and think for a moment. He had never even considered putting a fire out. “Do you know how long it took me to start this? And now you want me to put it out?” he asked Fender, half-jokingly.

  “I know, and I don’t want to you to douse the whole thing,” said Fender. “We’re working on focus and control, and I want you to exti
nguish one branch and one branch only.” Athena and Step watched with interest. The two of them, along with Prince Jared, were becoming regular spectators at his magic lessons. The other members of the party seemed interested, and sometimes observed for a while, but often lost interest and wandered off or went to sleep. Frayne, for one, showed absolutely no interest in Joel, Fender or their magic.

  “Not surprised,” J’Mart had said when Joel mentioned the leader’s lack of interest to him. “He’s a practical one, that one, and he sees magic as unreliable. Give him a good sword, I think, and he’s perfectly happy. Doesn’t want to meddle.”

  Joel tried to think of what music could put out a fire. He knew Handel had written some ‘water music,’ but he didn’t know it. He finally settled for a sad theme in a Dorian mode he had been tinkering with in Arizona but had never known what to do with. Picturing a waterfall dumping gallons and gallons of water on the branch, he relaxed and began to pick out the tune.

  He immediately noticed a difference in the lights and colors that surrounded him. They were limited to muted blues and yellows, and were very fluid and cool. Not sure how to proceed, he mentally ‘sent’ them towards the branch he had selected. A wick of pale blue extended from his hands and wound towards the flickering branch. When it contacted the small flame, the flame flickered, but didn’t go out.

  Discouraged, he tried again, but had the same result. Puzzled, he looked at Fender.

  The wizard smiled. “Not as easy as you expected, is it?”

  Joel shook his head. “No, and it seems like it should be simple. What am I doing wrong?”

  “Well, chances are that you’re not doing anything wrong, exactly, it’s just that you have to change your way of thinking a little. You see, putting a fire out is an example of dispersing energy, which can be just as difficult as – if not more than – concentrating the energy needed to start the fire in the first place.”

  “So how do I do it?”

  The wizard stroked his beard for a moment. “That’s actually a very good question, Joel, because here is where you start to develop a certain ‘style’ as a wizard. What works for one wizard may not work as well for another. Starting a fire, levitating a branch – these are all ordinary things that any wizard is able to do, and in much the same way. But dispersing energy is tricky. Tell me: how did you attempt it?”