SongMaster's Realm

by Wolfram Donat

  Halfway through the tunnel he felt himself slowing down. The cold made his limbs feel like dead weights, the current was stronger than he had anticipated, and the guitar case on his back was a drag he wasn’t sure he could overcome. He could see the light on the other side, but it seemed to be very, very far away. Summoning his resolve, he struggled against the current, aware that he might be losing the fight.

  Before he had a chance to despair any further, however, he felt a pair of hands grabbing his shoulder. He didn’t know if the hands belonged to Step or to a goblin, but he was desperate to get out of the water. He grabbed at the hands, and they locked with his. There was a powerful tug, and he was pulled strongly from the water. Coughing and gasping, he rolled over, his limbs heavier than he had ever felt them before.

  It was Step. “Good to see you, too,” he said, grinning through chattering teeth. “Nothing like a brisk swim to wake you up, eh?”

  Joel forced himself to sit up, shivering and coughing. “No goblins?” he managed to ask.

  “Nope,” said the other man. “Streets are deserted, at least in this area. Either they never thought we’d get this far, or they really are afraid of this city. Wish I knew why.”

  Just then, there was a splashing in the stream, and Joel turned as fast as his chilled body could manage to see Athena breaking the surface. She didn’t seem to be having as much trouble as Joel, but she gladly accepted Step’s offered hand and crawled onto the bank. No sooner had she crawled to a sitting position then the Prince surfaced.

  As he struggled onto the bank, he shook his head, coughing. “It’s not good. We were seen, and Frayne and the others are going to be hard put to follow. I didn’t have time to stop and look too closely, but there was a swarm of those things headed for us just as I dove.”

  Just then, a silhouette materialized under the stream, and quickly solidified into the shape of Frayne. In no time he had launched himself out onto the bank and was staring at the stream as if he were trying to boil it with his gaze.

  “Come on, come on,” he muttered. He was barely even shivering. “Fender took an arrow, but I didn’t see how bad it was,” he told them. “Gaen was helping him when I dove.”

  “How about Bowen?” asked Joel anxiously.

  The short man shook his head. “Couldn’t tell, but I did see some arrows flying at those black scum, so that’s a good sign.” He turned back to the stream. “Come on, come on,” he said again.

  As if on cue, a larger shape came into view. As it neared the surface, Joel could see that it was three men, two of them supporting the third between them as they swam. They were obviously having difficulty, and Joel, along with Step, immediately jumped in next to them to help. Together Joel, Step, Gaen and Bowen managed to get the wounded wizard out onto the bank. He was dead weight, and seemed impossibly heavy.

  Gaen rolled him over onto his back. The Warmaster had an arrow protruding from his left shoulder, but he didn’t seem to notice, and Bowen seemed unharmed. Joel immediately saw that Fender had an arrow shaft projecting from the left side of his chest. He was deathly pale, and didn’t seem to be breathing. Blood quickly began to pool around his body.

  Gaen whirled to look at Joel. “Do something, SongMaster!” he exclaimed. “He’s dying, and there’s nothing I can do to help him! You’re the only one who can!”

  Joel didn’t need to be told twice. He ripped the guitar case from his back, thanking providence for the second time in two weeks for waterproof guitar cases. Come on, Fender, he thought as he swung into playing position. Hold on.

  He closed his eyes and strummed the first chord of Mozart’s Benedictus. Almost immediately he felt the vibrations starting in his bones, and he could feel the power thrumming through his body as, in his mind, he watched the colors turn a light shade of blue. Continuing to play, he concentrated on Fender and reached out with the magic.

  When the tendrils of power touched the wounded magician, he could see them recoil and turn grayish black in his mind’s eye. The wizard was in bad shape. Joel focused his energy and probed further, following the path that the arrow had taken into Fender’s chest.

  Just as he feared, it had pierced his heart. The arrow itself was preventing him from immediately bleeding to death, but the wound was horrific. Fender’s heart was still beating, but very weakly. Gathering his concentration, Joel began to try to nudge the arrow loose and knit the edges of the wound together. He knew he had to work quickly, but he also knew that if he wasn’t careful, he could do more damage than the arrow already had.

  Without warning he felt a surge of power enter him from another source. Like a burst of energy, he felt it boost his waning energy and support him. It carried with it feelings of warmth and age, and it only took him a moment to recognize that J’Mart was trying to help him in the only way the Ramiken could. Thankfully he grabbed hold of J’Mart’s magic and added it to his own as he tried to fix Fender’s wound.

  Something was wrong, however. He was able to slowly shift the arrow out of the way, but he was having no luck mending the wound in the wizard’s heart. Try as he might, the edges of the gash would not stay together. As he worked, he could see with his newfound magical senses that the heart was turning gray from lack of blood and oxygen. The wizard was in danger of heart failure. Focusing single-mindedly on the healing that needed to be done, he continued to try to knit the torn tissue and arteries.

  Suddenly Fender returned to consciousness, and the shock of it threw Joel out of his trance. Rocking back on his heels, he watched his friend’s face as he opened his eyes. Gaen, Jared and the others were gathered around, highly alert, as Athena held a cloth over the wound in Fender’s chest. J’Mart was crouched in front of Joel, looking back and forth from Joel to the wounded magician.

  The wizard swallowed hard and grimaced with pain. Then he spoke. “Stop, Joel,” he said weakly. “You can do no more, and you need to conserve your strength.”

  “No way,” argued Joel. “I’m not leaving you like this. I can fix this.”

  “No, you can’t,” said Fender. “The wound is too deep, and the point was poisoned. I can feel it working even now.” He held up a hand to forestall Joel’s objection. “Joel, you can’t save me.”

  A part of him realized that what the other said was true. Even J’Mart’s magic added to his own was not enough to mend Fender’s heart, and it was dying. It was a miracle that he was even conscious, much less coherent and speaking.

  Tears came to his eyes. “I can’t let you die, Fender,” he said softly. “You’re the first friend I made here. You taught me almost everything I know how to do.” Beside him, Athena was sobbing quietly.

  Fender smiled faintly. “I tried the best I could.” His voice was growing softer. “Joel, in the short time I knew you, you became like a son to me. I’m proud of you. I know you have the power to rescue the Duran. You have power like I’ve never seen. You just have to trust yourself to use it.”

  Then the wizard turned his head to see Gaen. “Warmaster, it looks like I’m going to beat you to the halls of our ancestors.” He chuckled softly and then coughed, and a small trickle of blood ran down his chin. “Who’d have thought?”

  Gaen clasped Fender’s hand. Joel couldn’t see very well through his tears, but it seemed the old warrior’s eyes were moist. “Go in peace, old friend,” said Gaen. “I shall miss our conversations.”

  Fender laid his head back, as if deciding to take a little nap. “Get Joel to the book, Gaen. He can fix this.” Then he exhaled, and was still.

  Nobody moved or spoke for a long moment. In shock, Joel could feel the tears streaming down his cheeks, but he didn’t care. Fender’s face was peaceful, and except for the trickle of blood coming from the corner of his mouth, he looked as if he were asleep.

  He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but he suddenly became aware of a low groaning sound that was gradually growing in intensity. He wiped his eyes and looked around. His friends were doing the same. Everything looked normal, a
nd he couldn’t place the source of the sound.

  It was Bowen who figured it out. He held up his hand, all of the blood draining from his face. “That’s the gates to the city,” he said in a small voice. “They’re coming in after us.”

  Frayne shot to his feet, as did Gaen and Jared. “All right, we’ve got to go,” shouted the short man. “Nothing more we can do here.”

  When Joel didn’t move, Gaen knelt beside him. “I’m sorry, Joel. We have to leave him here. There’s nothing more we can do for him, and we have to go.”

  Joel looked at the Warmaster. “We can’t just leave him here. He deserves better than that.”

  “I know,” agreed Gaen. “Believe me, I know that better than anyone here. But right now that’s a luxury we don’t have. The goblins have opened the gates, and I figure we’ve got about five minutes before they get here. They won’t let any of us live.” He put his hand on Joel’s shoulder. “If you die, then Fender will have died for nothing. Is that what you want?”

  Joel shook his head and wiped his eyes again. He’s right. I won’t let him die in vain. “Let’s go. Which way?”

  Gaen stood up as well. “His last spell told us to head for the cliff wall at the north side of the city. This stream is going north, so let’s just follow it for the time being. Everybody move!”

  The seven of them took off at a run, leaving Fender’s body where it was. Though they were still in shock, they each knew there was no time to mourn. As he ran, Joel once again swore that he would give his friends a fitting memorial if he got through this alive.

  The run had the effect of warming them up, and it wasn’t long before they weren’t shivering anymore, though the air seemed colder than before. The stream seemed to follow the path of one of the streets, so following it wasn’t difficult. They had only been running for a few minutes before a howl arose from behind them. “They found him,” panted Step. “They’re on to us now.” No one else spoke, and they continued to follow the stream at a run.

  Though he was still in shock from grief and frightened for his life, Joel couldn’t help noticing the scenery through which they ran. The city, though now crumbling and in ruins, was beautiful. A satin white sheen covered much of the buildings, and the streets were made of an unfamiliar material that was still mostly unbroken by time. Some plants grew through cracks in the pavement, but not as many as Joel would have expected, given the apparent age of the city. It still held back the wilderness. Scattered here and there were statues and other unrecognizable structures. Altogether, there was a completely alien feel to everything.

  The cliff wall to the north was rapidly approaching when he saw his first apparition. He was thinking about calling for a short break when out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed a flash of color completely out of place with the white sheen of the city. He whirled to see what it was, expecting a goblin.

  Instead, at the end of an alley, there was a long-limbed figure dressed in red and black. Vaguely human in appearance, the skin was pale, and its hair was pure white. Sounds seemed to disappear, and he lost track of his companions. As he looked at it, it gazed straight at him and then melted away as if it were made of smoke.

  With that, his attention snapped back to the present. He and his friends were still running. He risked a look back down the alley as it disappeared from view, but it was empty. Joel shook his head to clear it. Athena glanced at him questioningly, but he waved her on, still unsure how to deal with what he had just seen. He didn’t believe in ghosts, but the apparition certainly fit the bill.

  Finally, when Joel’s heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest, Jared called a halt. The Prince was breathing as hard as any of them, and it took him a moment to catch his breath before he could speak. “A moment, please, Warmaster,” he said, panting. “There’s no sign of them yet.”

  “Fine,” said Gaen. “A moment, no more. Those creatures won’t wait for us to catch our breath.” As he spoke, however, they could hear the muffled sounds of pursuit threading through the city.

  Joel grabbed the opportunity to speak. “Has anyone else seen anything… unusual?”

  “Other than my life flashing before my eyes?” asked Step. “No. Why?” Nobody else said anything, though they all looked at Joel curiously.

  “Oh, no reason,” he answered. “I thought I saw something back there, but my mind could have been playing tricks on me.”

  Gaen shook his head. “You’ve seen a ghost, haven’t you, magician?”

  “I think so. “

  The Warmaster gazed at him. “Don’t let it affect your judgment,” he told Joel. “They’re disturbing, but – as far as I can tell – harmless. We have the living, not the dead, to worry about.”

  “Speaking of which,” broke in Frayne, “we’d better get a move on. We’re almost to the north wall, and I hear them approaching.” With that, they were off again.

  Five minutes later they rounded a corner and realized the pursuit, one way or another, was over. Ahead of them was the cliff wall, stretching higher than the eye could see into the cloud cover overhead. And to the right, nestled against the wall, was the building they had been looking for. They came to a stop and looked at it, trying to catch their breath.

  It was obviously the one. Alone among the ruins of the city, its spires remained undamaged, stretching hundreds of feet to the sky like delicate needles of white and silver. A high archway seemed to be the only entrance, though there were windows scattered throughout the many towers.

  What gave it away, however, more than its undamaged state, was that the building seemed to be humming. Joel knew it was magic, because the vibrations it was emitting were making his hands and fingers vibrate exactly as if he were playing his guitar. It was humming strongly enough, though, that he could see that his non-magically-inclined companions could feel it too. There were vacant expressions on many of their faces, as if the vibrations were disorienting them. To Joel, however, the thrumming sound was so overpowering it almost drowned out other sounds.

  It apparently did not affect just him that way. J’Mart had appeared at some point on Joel’s shoulder, and he leaned forward and spoke in Joel’s ear. “I think that’s the place, music man. Whaddya think?”

  Joel nodded. “Couldn’t possibly be anything else. Whatever’s in there is pretty damn powerful, isn’t it?”

  “That’s putting it mildly, buddy. That’s the Duran in there, and it can literally destroy the multiverse. Yeah, I’d say it’s pretty powerful.”

  Just then Athena snapped out of her trance. “What is wrong with that building?” she asked Joel. “It’s making me feel weird. Is that the one?”

  “Couldn’t be anything else,” said Bowen. “I mean, look at it.”

  Jared stepped forward. “All right. We’re here. We know what we have to do. Let’s get moving. I –”

  He was interrupted by a wicked-looking black arrow that whizzed over his head and clattered off of the wall behind him. He ducked, and two more flew wide of their mark. Joel spun around, as did his friends, to see a group of about fifty goblins running at them full speed down the avenue on which they were standing. Several more arrows were flying through the air, and before they had a chance to move, one buried itself in Step’s leg and another scraped by Bowen’s face, leaving a wide red welt in its passing.

  “GO!” yelled Frayne. “Magician, get in there and do what you have to do! We’ll hold them off here as long as we can!” He saw Joel hesitate, and pushed him toward the building’s archway. “Don’t worry about us. Just get in there and do whatever it is you came for. Now!”

  Joel stole a look at Athena. She had drawn her sword and turned to face the advancing horde, but she turned to him just as he looked at her. He could see the emotions battling on her face, and then she appeared to come to a decision. She took two long steps over to where he stood, hesitant, and planted a passionate kiss on his lips. When she broke it, she whispered, “We’ll be fine. Just go do what you need to do. I know you can do it. I
love you.” Then she turned again and faced the oncoming goblins.

  Joel knew he didn’t have a choice. With J’Mart still sitting on his shoulder, he ran toward the entrance archway in the building of power. As he neared it, the humming seemed to change in pitch, becoming higher as he got closer. Almost before he was ready, he was at the entranceway. He turned to look at his friends. They weren’t looking at him; they were concentrating instead on the goblins, who had almost reached them. Silently wishing them well, he turned and stepped through the doorway.

  FIFTEEN

  It was almost like stepping through an airlock. As if he had thrown a switch, all the surrounding sounds disappeared. The air was warmer as well. He couldn’t help wondering about what sort of climate control system could still be operating in such an ancient building, but then he realized that magic was involved, so the thought became irrelevant. It was very peaceful, and the sense of urgency he had felt upon entering had disappeared. Suddenly his friends seemed very far away, and not in so much danger.

  After the initial shock wore off, he stopped and looked around. The ceiling was high above him, a cathedral affair that seemed much taller here on the inside than he remembered it looking from the outside. In front of him stretched a long hallway, and with a shock, he recognized the hallway from his dream. His eyes flew to the symbols on the floor tiles, and now that he was awake, he recognized them immediately.

  “They’re musical symbols,” he muttered to nobody in particular.

  “What?”

  He hadn’t realized that J’Mart was still with him, and he jumped. “Oh, I’m sorry. I was talking to myself.” Joel pointed at the symbols on the floor. “They’re musical notation. That one there is a quarter rest. That one’s a flat, and there’s a sharp.”