SongMaster's Realm

by Wolfram Donat

  “Or you’ll do what?” he said, half smiling. “You can’t afford to hurt me. I’m the only one who can play you, remember?” The next few bars of notes were a simple run down the scale, and he picked them out easily. The cloud of maroon from the first chord had dissipated, and the lights and colors that were filling the room were of a decidedly more joyous nature. I’m on the right track, he thought. This is the right thing to do.

  She was screaming and hissing at him, but he ignored her and concentrated on the Duran. It was difficult to read and play it backwards, but gradually he was getting the hang of it, and the music seemed to be naturally leading the way. He was getting lost in the magic again, and it was a welcome experience.

  He closed his eyes and realized that he could still see the page of notes. As he reached the end of the first/last page, he reached out with a note and flipped the page, continuing without stopping. The music was filled with power, and it was incredibly uplifting. Next to him, Malia was screaming, but she didn’t seem to be as dangerous as she had only minutes before. She was more insubstantial, somehow, and the more he played, the fainter she got. She was hitting him with her fists, pounding on his chest and hitting the guitar, but her blows were weak, and he shrugged them off.

  She held up her hand again and pointed it at Joel. Once again, power crackled from her fingertip and headed straight for him, but he laughed through the music. It was ridiculously easy to stop the bolt of energy. Instead of turning it back towards her, however, he improvised just a bit, and incorporated the power of her energy into the music he played.

  She appeared to redouble her efforts, but it was obvious she was getting weaker. The more he played, the fainter she got. Her energy bolts flew at him, but each was easier to block than the last.

  Finally she stopped, and he realized he could see the wall behind her through her body. He kept playing, feeling the mood of the music change slightly. He improvised just a little, and a streak of power shot from his guitar to where she stood. The light wrapped around her, and then she was gone.

  Joel didn’t stop playing, however. The music kept going, and it was impossible to stop. Never had he felt such power, and never had he heard such beautiful music. The melodies and harmonies doubled back and reinforced themselves, and the fantastic symphony of colors would have blinded him, had his eyes been open.

  He knew what he was playing. It had been obvious from the first several notes. Massar had been right. Contrary to what Malia had said, the Duran was indeed written to destroy all things, but Magir had been both very intelligent and very crafty.

  Magir had written down the symphony of existence. The Indians had a name for it, Joel remembered: Nada Brahma. The world is sound. Magir had somehow captured the musical essence of All Things and written it down.

  But he had been crafty as well. He had wanted to destroy the multiverse, so he wrote the Duran so that the symphony of existence would be played backwards if the Duran were played from front to back. If Joel had continued to play the music forwards, as written, it would have taken over, as it was doing now, but the result would be destruction.

  Instead, he was playing the song of Existence as it was meant to be played, and it was beautiful. Power streamed through every pore in his body, and his awareness was expanding exponentially as he played. His body kept playing, fueled by the music, but his consciousness soared beyond the room in which he stood. He rose above the building he had entered what seemed like days ago and looked for his friends.

  They were not doing well. He found them cornered in an alleyway, fighting for their lives against a horde of creatures that seemed to never end. There were goblins and other humans, as well as creatures that looked like the eldars that Fender had described. All of his friends were wounded, though he couldn’t tell how badly, but they were still alive.

  As if he were flicking away a bothersome bug, he reached down with a wave of power and swept the creatures out of existence. He laughed at the effortlessness of it all. His friends, unable to see him, looked surprised for a moment, but Athena stood still and smiled. “Joel,” she said to the others, and Step laughed.

  He couldn’t stay. He was still playing, and the music was carrying him upward and outward. He rose above the Northern Wastes, and then above Asria, and then above Alera itself. So this is what it’s like to be a god, he thought.

  Existence folded in on itself, and he gradually became aware of other dimensions and other universes. Earth was there, and other fantastic worlds that he knew he would never be able to describe or remember.

  He rode the notes into the depths of the multiverse, and he realized that he was not alone. Two immensely powerful beings were watching him. He couldn’t see them, but he felt them, and he knew he was in the presence of Yath and Ysuldur.

  HE HAS SUCCEEDED, said one of the beings.

  THAT HE HAS. IT APPEARS I WAS MISTAKEN.

  Swollen with power, still playing, Joel could not contain himself. “Excuse me?” he said.

  There was no response from either of them. He tried again. “Hello? Excuse me! Over here!” There was still no reply, and he knew that despite his present state of being, he was too insignificant to be noticed.

  SO THE GAME IS WON, said one of the Two, as if Joel had never spoken. DO YOU CONCEDE?

  NO, said the other. NOT YET. There was a long pause.

  THERE IS ANOTHER.

  WE CONTINUE, THEN. SO BE IT. The two beings slowly became more distant, and Joel found himself melding through space to find Alera once again. The music he was playing acted as a guide, and he was almost instantly aware of his body again.

  His consciousness swept down to Vertton Crags, and he saw that the plain outside the city was still covered with goblins and other dark creatures. As with the others, he swept them away effortlessly, but this time, instead of removing them from existence, he transported them to another world, one where their evil seemed to be better placed. He laughed, and his mind entered the city.

  A still form caught his attention. It was Fender’s body, and Joel paused. A part of him knew that the music he played was coming to an end, and thus his god-like power would end with it. If I want to save Fender, I’d better do it now.

  He didn’t act, though. His mind swooped down from above, and as he began to consider how he could go about bringing his friend back to life, at the same instant he knew it would be wrong. Let him be, the music whispered to him. He has begun another journey, and it would be wrong to take him from it.

  That was one of the ways he had known that Malia was lying, he remembered. She had offered unlimited power, but he had never wanted it, and he had known deep inside that it was wrong. Yet she had kept pushing, and it was her pushing that had given him the necessary clues.

  He bade his friend’s body farewell and headed back to where his own body stood, still playing the last bars of the Duran. His god-consciousness was fading as he entered the room and looked down on himself. He was ecstatic to see J’Mart perched in his normal position on his right shoulder. As Joel descended, J’Mart looked up at his mind-body, obviously aware of it, and smiled. Then with a start he was back in his body. He looked at the last chord, and it was no longer the B minor seventh it had started with before. It had become an A Major, and he played it softly, letting the echoes of it ring into the still room.

  The sound died, and the light show along with it. From nowhere a deep bass note sounded, louder than anything Joel had ever heard. It vibrated the room, his bones and his guitar and grew steadily louder. As he watched, the Duran shimmered like a mirage. The bass note grew to a deafening level and then suddenly ceased, and the book faded out of existence. As if it had never been, the pedestal was empty.

  SIXTEEN

  “Nice to see you again,” said J’Mart, grinning. “Where did you go off to?”

  Joel was quiet. Though many of the aftereffects were gone, power still thrummed through his body, and he was still vibrating. “That –” He shook his head, trying to clear it. “That
was incredible.”

  “I’ll say! You did good, SongMaster! You look a little lost, though.” J’Mart levitated off of Joel’s shoulder and looked at him intensely. “You all right? Sorry I missed most of the good stuff, thanks to Medusa, there.”

  Joel held up his hand, a bit shakily. “No, you weren’t there, but I heard you just fine. Thanks for being there, however you did it.” He rubbed his forehead. “I’ll be fine. I just had an overdose of power, I think. Gotta come back to the here and now. I saw everything, and I mean everything. I saw Alera, and Earth, and the entire multiverse. It was like I was playing Creation. It was amazing, J’Mart! I was like a god! That must be what it feels like!” He paused, aware he was babbling. “And I saw the Two! Well, I didn’t see them, but I felt them, and I heard them talking again.”

  “And? What’d they say?”

  “Ysuldur said there was another, but I don’t know what that meant. And then Yath said it would continue, and then it was time to come home.” Joel realized that unlike the previous times when he had used a lot of power, he was fairly bursting with energy. “I managed to save all of the others. Let’s go see if they’re okay.”

  The Ramiken chuckled. “Good idea. You might need to digest this little magic trick for a while.” Joel turned away from the empty pedestal and the mirrored wall, and together they left the Duran’s chamber.

  As they began walking back the way they had come, there was a commotion at the far end of the hallway and suddenly his friends burst through the arch. They didn’t see him at first, and he heard them calling for him. Then Jared spotted him, and they ran toward him.

  They were all battered and bloody, but alive. None of their injuries seemed serious, though there were plenty of wounds to go around. As they met, Athena jumped into his arms and planted her mouth on his, kissing him fiercely. Joel kissed her back as the others gathered around him, asking all kinds of questions.

  Finally he broke the kiss and let Athena down to the floor. “It’s done,” he told the others as he put his arm around her. “The Duran is gone. Oh, and I managed to get rid of the goblins, too.”

  “We thought that was you,” said Step, grinning like a maniac. “One moment we were fighting for our lives, and the next there was nobody there to fight. We were all feeling pretty stupid, and then Athena said ‘Joel’, and we all knew. I’m not sure what happened, SongMaster, but I have a feeling we are in your debt.”

  “Aye,” said Jared. “I think that we owe you some thanks, SongMaster. If not before, you have certainly earned that title. I pray you will tell us how everything happened?”

  He nodded. “I will. Tonight, around the campfire. For now, let’s leave this place. First, however…” He pulled Athena closer to him and looked at Frayne. The little man was watching the two of them, but there was no anger on his face. “Frayne,” said Joel, “I’m afraid that I’m in love with one of your Scouts. Is there a problem with that?”

  Frayne studied the two of them for a moment, and then a rare smile crossed his face. “I see no problem, SongMaster,” he said. “Athena has served long and well, and if she chooses to leave the Scouts, I will release her. We will miss her, but I think she is making a sound decision.”

  “Thank you, sir,” said Athena, with a big smile. “I do hereby tender my resignation, but with thanks for all that the Scouts have done for me.”

  Jared clapped Joel on the back. “All right, that’s enough. Let’s get out of here.” They turned toward the exit, but something off to the side caught Joel’s eye. One of the doors in the long hallway was ajar, unlike before.

  “Wait a minute,” said Joel. “This door was closed before. Let’s check this out.” The others followed as he entered the room.

  It was like a study, and reminded Joel of Fender’s quarters back in Beláin. Books and scrolls were scattered everywhere, as well as glass beakers, bottles, writing instruments and other assorted sundry items.

  There was one notable exception to Fender’s workshop, however. Along one wall was a sort of couch, and there was a figure lying on the couch. Joel started, and when he realized he didn’t recognize the person, he brought his guitar around to the ready.

  Gaen, however, rushed over to the figure. “The Duke!” he cried. “It’s the Duke of Brin!” He shook the Duke’s shoulder, gently at first, and then more roughly. The Duke didn’t move, and after a moment, Joel knew he was dead.

  Gaen realized it at about the same time, and his head slumped. “He’s gone,” he said. “But why? Why kidnap him, bring him halfway across the world to this place, and then kill him?”

  The others had been investigating the room, and Bowen spoke up. “Does anyone know the name of Syldath?”

  Nobody answered, but then Jared responded. “No. Why?”

  “Because by the looks of this scroll, and a few others, this place belonged to him. A wizard of some sort, I’m guessing.”

  “I see that name over here, too,” said Athena. “Looks to be some powerful stuff, here – not that I know much about this.”

  Jared held up his hand. “Well, right now the evidence points to him abducting and murdering a Duke, a serious crime. Unfortunately, since he seems to be absent, there’s nothing I can do at the moment. Let’s leave the Duke’s body here, since it is as safe from scavengers here as anywhere else. But everyone grab something and take it with you. This bears more investigating.”

  Joel didn’t move immediately. A thought had occurred to him. “I wonder if it had to do with his insignia,” he muttered.

  “What’s that?” asked Athena.

  “Well, remember that his insignia was a musical sign?” Joel asked her. She nodded. “It turns out that the Duran was a book of music, and I was told that I was the only one who could play it. But now I’m wondering.”

  “Wondering what?” Step chimed in.

  “With a symbol like that associated with his family, maybe he also had some musical talent, and this Syldath fellow was afraid of that. So he had him kidnapped.”

  “That makes as much sense as anything else,” said Jared. “The family of Brin is one of the oldest in the kingdom, and I don’t know its origins. As I said, this bears more investigating.

  “For now, however, I would like to leave. I dislike these rooms, and we have tarried here long enough. Come, take something and let us leave.”

  Everyone grabbed an item or two. Joel chose two thick books and stuffed them into his pack, while Athena selected a glass beaker and a scroll. When everyone was ready, they filed back into the hallway.

  It was no longer empty. Standing in the entranceway was Massar.

  J’Mart jumped. “Well, I’ll be! It’s Mr. Wizard!”

  Massar declined to answer the Ramiken, instead looking directly at Joel. “Well met, SongMaster,” he said. “It seems that your friends and I and all living things in Creation owe you a debt of gratitude.”

  Joel shrugged, uncomfortably aware that his friends were looking at him with respect, almost awe. “It was nothing, really. Malia said the Duran was written for me, and I just played it.”

  “I beg to differ, Joel. It may have been written for you, but it was written for the express purpose of enabling you to destroy the multiverse, and you figured that out before it was too late. And you had the necessary power and skill to play the book, and to play it correctly.”

  “But it was just music. If my hunch is correct, the Duke may have been able to play it, so whoever it was kidnapped him to prevent it.”

  Massar shook his head. “There is a history of Brin you need to read, but rest assured – he would have been unable to do anything with the Duran. It was indeed written for you.”

  “So why didn’t you tell me what it was? Some advance notice would have been nice.”

  “Because, believe it or not, Joel, I didn’t know. The Duran has been shrouded in mystery for millennia. It was more myth and legend than history. I had some clues, but little more than hints and riddles.

  “What I did have, however,
was faith in you and your abilities. I knew Fender would train you well, and J’Mart was always watching over you, as was his duty, if perhaps not as consistently as I would have liked. And I maintain that I was first drawn to you because of the dreams, and not because of any scheming on my part.”

  Massar rubbed his chin and glanced at all of the companions. “I will admit, however, that I did not expect you to be as powerful as you are. That was a surprise.”

  “A good surprise, I hope,” said Joel, trying to keep his sarcasm under control.

  The wizard didn’t seem to take offense. “Indeed. It was welcome news, since as you know I am forbidden to meddle.”

  “You know, you keep saying that,” said Joel, “but you have yet to say: forbidden by whom? And I tend to agree with J’Mart, here – a lot of what you’re doing seems like ‘meddling’ to me.”

  “It may seem that way to you, and I am not at liberty to give you any more information. I have a feeling you may find out sooner rather than later, however.”

  Not sure how to interpret that, Joel decided to ignore it. He followed Massar’s gaze to his companions, and was immediately struck by their run-down, sorry appearance. None of them were free from injuries, and they looked worn out. “You know,” he said, thoughtfully, “if it is true that I am owed a debt of gratitude, I’d like to ask you a favor. Well, two favors.”

  Massar raised an eyebrow. “Ask. If I can grant your favor, I will.”

  “Well, the seven of us have been through Hell. I think you can agree with me there. And traveling back through the Northern Wastes to get back to Beláin – well, we’re liable to get more of us killed. So any way you can get us back a bit more quickly and safely? Because I can’t do it.” Joel held up his hand. “Wait. Before you answer that, let me ask my other favor. Whether you can get us back or not, can you send Fender’s body back home? He deserves to be buried where his friends are, not in a forgotten city in the northern stretches of the world.”

  Massar was quiet for a long moment. Nobody moved, waiting for the wizard to respond. Finally he nodded. “I can do two things for you, Joel,” he said. “As far as Fender’s remains are concerned, I can easily move them back to Beláin. Consider it done. You are right – he needs to go home.