Cel stepped behind the drum kit, her gaze still mostly expressionless as she drummed the sticks against empty air. She crossed and uncrossed her wrists, the sticks humming through the air. Then, slowly, she sat down, and adjusted her hood so it was further over her face, so that only her nose - incredibly cute, Vann had to admit -and mouth were visible. “Ready,” she said.
Vann nodded. “Show us what you've got.”
Cel began to bob her head, resting the sticks on her thigh as she found a rhythm to some song in her head. Without warning she exploded into movement, her sticks flying across the kit. Vann's ears registered a cymbal's metallic echo, and he did a double take as the thunderous rumble of drums filled the small space. Had he blinked and missed her hitting cymbal? It didn't seem possible, but then it happened again, a lightning fast flick of the wrist as if she were cracking a whip. Again and again she did the same trick before settling into a steady rhythm and holding it for what seemed like an impossible amount of time. All the while her expression never wavered from calm focus, even as he arms and wrists snapped to and fro like striking snakes.
Then she stopped, the sounds echoing for a moment. Cel held the sticks just above the skins of the drums, her breathing even. “More?” she prompted.
Ori looked impressed, nodding approval. Vann felt the same. How long had she practiced to get that good? There were Songweavers back West who favored the steady, driving magic that you could pull from drums, but he'd just witnessed something on another level entirely. “Please, yes,” he said.
Cel nodded, then launched back into another crazy drum sequence, working her way back and forth across the kit to bring out the full range of sounds from the instruments. The big drums produced much deeper and more resonant tones, while the smaller ones were more cracks, sharper sounds that crested over the low rumble of the bass drums that her feet hammered away at. Vann went around behind Cel as she played, watching the satyr's hooves hammer down on metal pedals to drive mallets into the skins of the double bass. It was hypnotic and intense, made all the more impressive by how effortless she made it seem.
Vann also totally didn't spend a couple of seconds looking at how the stool on which Cel sat did extremely flattering things to her rear end and the little teardrop tail above it. Not at all.
When Cel decided to stop, she did it with a flourish, a final crash of symbols that turned into her tossing her sticks into the air and catching them as they came down. She reached up to grab the brass, silencing the resonating notes in a moment. She looked at him expectantly.
“Well?” Marebaas said. “What do you think?”
“I think she's phenomenal!” Ori said, leaning over the kit. Cel looked up at the harpy and smiled a little.
“Yeah, I don't see why Rorzan would have a problem with her,” Vann said. “She's nothing short of impressive.”
“True, but some of the bucks might have more of what he's looking for,” Marebaas said, patting Cel on the shoulder. “Cel's not the most... vocal. Or expressive.” She nodded in agreement.
“I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing,” Vann said. “It's about what would work best for us as a group.” He unslung his guitar. “Why don't we give it a test?”
“Is this where we do that harmonizing thing you told me about?” Ori said, reaching for her own instrument.
“Yeah, this is it. Never done it with drums before, though.”
After a bit of trial and error Vann and Ori found a fret on the lowest strings of their guitars that matched the tone of Cel gently kicking on the bass drums. Vann felt that magic swirl around him, and tapped Cel on the shoulder. The harmonic connection snapped taut between them. The satyr's magic felt similar to Janaza's – earthy, deep, rooted in trees and rocks and water and all the basic elements of nature. By contrast, when Ori joined the connection, Vann actually felt a moment of vertigo. Harpy magic came from the wind and skies, it seemed. Ori looked like she was going through a similar adjustment, trying to make sense of the weird sensation of being magically linked to another. But she shook out her arm, wiggling her fingers close to the strings. “Alright,” she said. “Who starts?”
Vann knew what Cel was about to do a second before the satyr moved. Her sticks rocketed across the drums again, the chords of an old fast-paced satyr song coming to the fore in his mind. As soon as he began to play, Ori was right behind him, playing in time. A moment later, Marebaas joined them, singing in a hoarse voice over the roar of the guitar and drums. To Vann's surprise, the magic didn't spiral out of control immediately, despite the fact that it sounded like the satyr was shouting more than singing. If anything, it actually grew stronger. The flames of the candles burning on the wall behind them flared brighter, the smell of sage filling the space and cloying his nose. But they found the rhythm together, surging forward like a stampeding herd. The sound was deafening in the confined space, but they carried on, until it seemed as though the cave was going to collapse around them. Then before their eyes the roots thickened and strengthened, packing the dirt in tighter and tighter as the song built towards a furious crechendo. Cel was a creature possessed, keeping a consistent beat yet managing to add a quick flourish to the end of what seemed like every measure without losing her rhythm at all. It was one of the most impressive things Vann had ever seen, and he knew deep down that Cel was who they needed more than anyone else.
The song came to an end in a flurry of drums as Vann and Ori's guitars faded out. Cel's arms were still hovering over the kit, her hands shaking slightly and her breathing heavy. Her hood had shifted back over the course of her playing, and her eyes looked between Vann and Ori, full of amazement. She'd felt it too, the feeling of connection that went beyond the harmonizing.
Marebaas whooped and wrapped his arms around Cel in a big hug. “I think they might have felt that back at the village. Hah!” Cel blushed furiously as she was hugged, and Vann thought the expression was one of the cutest things he'd ever seen. “You're a shoo in, Cel!” Marebaas looked expectantly at Vann. “Right?”
Vann wiped sweat from his forehead. “I hope so,” he said. “I really hope so.”
***
The Proving began the next day with much celebration, as what seemed like the entire population of the township turned out to see who among them would have the honor of joining up with the group of travelers. It began with a massive vegetarian breakfast of skewers of root vegetables grilled over open flames and coated with a delicious sauce of honey and ground nuts, along with hard boiled eggs and more fresh vegetables.
Janaza was hungover, but not as bad as she'd been from partying with the centaurs. Much to Vann's bemusement, her attempts to have a little fun with Bray the previous night hadn't panned out. “He was gone,” the orc said as she slowly chewed a big hunk of grilled vegetable. “Like straight up out. Tried to wake him up, but then I guess I passed out because when I woke up I was next to him fully clothed and he was still comatose.” She swallowed. “I hope he managed to get it together in time to be here for this Proving thing.”
“I hope so too,” Rorzan said from where he floated, watching the proceedings as several of the bucks worked to set up the drum kit of Loktar in the center of the main plaza. “He's the one I wanted to see the most, I think he's got the attitude we're going to need.”
“Er, maybe mention that before I start a drinking competition next time,” said Janaza.
Meanwhile, Vann and Ori kept mum about their late night trip to the cave with Marebaas and Cel.
When it was time, one of the other Elders signalled to Marebaas, who rose and walked over to the drum kit. A hush fell over the crowd as he moved to the seat and sat down. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the snares. “This drum kit was entrusted to us a long time ago, with the promise that one day one of us would sit behind it again,” he began. “For decades we have remembered, and we have learned, and we have waited. And now, the day of the Proving is finally upon us.” He raised his voice. “Let all the bucks who wish to vie for this honor
, rise and come forward!”
Murmurs swept through the assembled satyrs as about twenty bucks rose and pushed their way through the crowd towards the drum kit. The crowded each other around the ring of the plaza, jockeying for position.
“Hey, hey, one at a time, one at a time!” Marebaas snapped at them, and the roughhousing stopped immediately. Vann spotted Bray among them near the middle, the big buck looking a little frazzled but still very much in control of himself.
One by one the bucks took a seat behind the kit and played whatever they felt like. Some were clearly overeager beginners, their rhythm sloppy or their technique flawed. One in particular actually let go of the stick mid-play, the length of wood flying out of his hand and hitting one of the bucks that had already gone square in the nose. Rorzan tried very hard to suppress a laugh at that one.
Several, however, were good. Bray in particular had a speed to match Cel's, and accuracy on par as well. Rorzan nodded approvingly as the buck finished and bowed, applause going up from the crowd.
When all those who wished to audition took their turn, Marebaas put out the call again, and no more stepped up. He looked to Vann expectantly.
“I don't know about you lot,” Rorzan said. “But this is an easy choice for me: Bray's got that somethin' somethin.'”
“I agree,” Arielle said.
“He is quite fast and accurate,” Janaza said. “But I don't know if I can travel with someone who can't hold his booze like that.”
Vann and Ori shared a look. The harpy shrugged a shoulder at him. Slowly, Vann rose, and immediately became aware of many, many pairs of eyes all snapping towards him in a moment. He looked around him. Had there ever been a point in his life where this many people had paid attention to him all at once? The only thing that came to mind was his escape from Papreon, but then most had only seen a brief glimpse of him as he'd shot past on the back of a panicked horse.
“I know for a fact that there's one more who wants to Prove herself,” Vann said, making sure to stress the pronoun. He looked over to where Cel sat.
Cel slowly got up, and everyone started talking at once. The bucks who had all taken a turn behind the kit already protested, along with what seemed to be every other male satyr in attendance. Marebaas got into a heated argument with the other Elders that Vann could only half-understand.
“You know something that I don't?” Rorzan said from beside him.
“Call it a surprise entrant,” Vann said, looking the ghost in the eye.
“Vann, that Bray cat is the perfect choice.”
Vann folded his arms. “Just wait, Rorzan.”
Cel sat down behind the drum kit. She raised her head, looking out over the crowd from within her hood. Then, slowly, she reached up and drew it back. She shook her hair out, the strands bouncing in dark, curly ringlets around her face. It took Vann a moment to realize her horns were much smaller than most of the others around her, one actually being chipped off almost to the base. She looked around the crowd, many of whom were yelling things at her.
Then she started playing, and everyone went silent. Cel launched into a blistering flurry of fills, beats, and rhythms, punctuating each with a bit of extra flair each and every time. Her hooves hammered at the bass drums faster even than they had the previous night, until Vann actually felt the ground shaking beneath him.
“Now that's more like it,” Janaza said.
“I'm not sure,” Rrozan said. “She's almost too good.”
Vann bristled. “What's that supposed to mean?”
“A good drummer shouldn't overshadow other elements of a band,” Rorzan said. “Particularly the guitar. Drummers are anchors, keepers of the beat. They're important, yes, but she runs the risk of upsetting the balance.”
“That's just stupid,” Ori said.
“I'm with her,” Vann said, turning to Rorzan. “She's the best one here, Rorzan. She's incredibly good.”
“Vann, trust me, I know how this works,” Rorzan argued. “The guitar is the driving force behind metal. A drummer shouldn't be in a position where they can overshadow that. Bray's just good enough to keep the pace while you do all the heavy lifting.”
Vann shook his head. “I don't buy that for a second, Rorzan.”
The ghost rolled his eyes. “Vann, listen-”
“No.” Vann felt a surge of emotion in his gut, annoyance and a need to prove a point. He grabbed his guitar by the neck and hefted it over his shoulder. “You listen. Janaza, come on.”
“Right behind you,” the orc said.
Before Rorzan could protest, they walked away, weaving their way through the crowd into the plaza to get closer to Cel. She'd stopped playing, looking at them curiously as they approached. “Problem?” she asked.
Vann and Janaza touched hands quickly as they harmonized. “Not for long,” Vann said. “Play something, anything, we'll make it up as we go along.” He held out his hand to her.
The satyr took it without hesitation, and Vann got a double-dose of earthy magic flooding his system before Cel began to kick the bass drums, setting a steady, driving rhythm. She drew her hood up over her head, hiding her horns and hair from view again. Janaza began to strum along with her bass, matching her playing to the beat, and when Vann slid his fingers down the strings and the guitar howled, they were gone, perfectly in synch after only a few moments.
As they played, their connection strengthened, magic swirling together into a potent pool. Vann blinked as his fingers moved on their own. This was somehow more than he'd ever been able to call upon before, Cel's magic providing a deep undercurrent that he'd never felt before. Janaza turned in place to put her back against his, her foot next to his boot. Around them, wisps of magic arced through the air, kicking up puffs of dirt where they struck the ground. Small rocks all around them lifted up into the air from the raw magic in the air. And when Vann slid his fingers down the neck of the guitar into a solo, the wisps became arcs of lightning, wrapping around them like a gentle summer breeze.
Their song crested, the power flowing up into the air, and a cheer went up from the crowd of satyrs. Vann and Janaza held up their instruments, letting the notes hang for a moment with the full intent to stop playing. But then, Cel went right back to the driving beat. Both of them looked back at her. She was twirling a stick around her fingers, looking at them expectantly as her hooves hammered the bass drums.
“Well, why not?” Janaza said, squaring her shoulders again.
They found the beat again, and soon enough more power was arcing around them, shooting out in all directions in a controlled cyclone of chaos. Each of them moved to direct the magic as they chose, flares of color and light blooming and winking out like falling stars. Vann felt his blood buzzing, a wild grin on his face as he kept going and going. Janaza laughed, spinning in place so sparks flitted off her bass. And Cel just kept bobbing her head along, a zen-like grin on her face as she kept the beat.
When it reached a natural crest, Vann and Janaza held the notes again, to another cheer from the crowd, louder this time. He looked expectantly back towards where Rorzan, Arielle and Ori were. The harpy caught his eye, and he nodded. She sprang up with her guitar in hand and moved to join them, putting a taloned foot up on one of Cel's bass drums as she snapped into their harmonic connection. The wellspring of power deepened exponentially, and Vann felt like they had the power to flatten a mountain between them.
“One more!” he called to Cel.
Determination flashed across the satyr's face, and she started again, the bass drums rumbling for a moment before the rest of them found it and joined in together. Next Janaza's bass, to set the pace. Then Vann, to bind everything together. Finally, Ori, her high pitched notes accenting the whole song as a translucent bubble of magic flared to life around them, a storm of perfect chaos kept in check, a locus of power to be directed at their will. They let it ride, until a breeze was whipping through the plaza and Vann felt like he was riding an adrenaline high like nothing else.
“
Alright, alright, alright!” Rorzan yelled over the music, flying in amongst them. “You've convinced me! Now let this go before you blow up the whole village!”
With one final screech of guitar and crash of drums, Vann turned the power towards the skies and let it fly. A beam of white magic lasered up and out of the trees, spiraling up and up until there was nothing left to direct. The breeze died down, and the music faded, until the only thing that they could hear was the cheers of the satyrs, as well as a chant growing in strength with each passing moment.
“Bone-car-ver! Bone-car-ver! Bone-car-ver!”
Vann stood there, breathing heavily, feeling the high of using magic fade until it was just tingles in his hands. The whole thing had taken minutes, yet he felt as though he could play that for hours and not be any worse for wear. The women around him were similarly energized, all of them playing to the crowd.
And over it all, he heard the sound of someone clapping.
Vann slowly turned towards the noise. Atop one of the long living structures stood a familiar lanky figure, his claps echoing over the square like an axe cracking into a tree.
“Quite a fantastic display!” Eckert called, still wearing that foppish grin of his. “Truly, the power of your music is not to be denied!”
“Oh, great,” Rorzan said, following his gaze. “The fucking clown's back.”
“Aye, come a little closer and you'll get really familiar with it!” Ori challenged, her feathers bristling.
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