A Song of Shadow (The Bard from Barliona Book #2) LitRPG series

by Vasily Mahanenko

  “What about me?” Eid spoke up. “I still believe that it is stupid to refuse the help that’s been promised you. I could go find the Tarantula and tell it all about your betrayal.”

  “As far as I recall, you are still subject to my will,” I smirked to the difficult spirit. “I get to decide what form you take on. If you decide to go against my wishes, I’ll sing that Billy Idol classic about eyes without a face.”

  In response to the knights’ surprised expressions I explained without a hint of a smile.

  “I can compose songs. All kinds of songs. I can also toss a priceless instrument into the fire and spend a long time watching the dying embers.”

  I guess something in the way I said that forced Eid to believe this threat and there were no further remarks from him. The king and the paladin also stayed silent for a while, weighing the pros and cons. The girl didn’t say anything either, watching us with her enormous eyes.

  “And why did you tell us all this?” Salamander asked at last. “As you pointed out, we’re of no use to you.”

  “Not everything in life has to be useful,” I shrugged and out of the corner of my eye noted my gradually depleting mana. It should hold out until the end of the conversation. “There are some things we do for the sake of our souls, excuse the pun. I promised you a trip to Barliona and I’d like you to wait around until I can do that for you, instead of setting off to Erebus disheartened by everything. And you,” I turned to the paladin, “wanted to complete some task. I am going to try to bind your spirit with a song. If it works, I will be able to summon you to Barliona at a later date. If not, you can tell me your story right now and I will be able to compose a song about you and summon you that way.”

  The paladin’s gray face lightened a little and he nodded approvingly. For his part, the Salamander King looked away in embarrassment.

  “You said that you can write a song about me,” he began uncertainly. “Now that I know that there is a chance that the Tarantulas might return to Barliona, I do not wish to go to Erebus. No earlier than the last one of them goes there. I will need strength. And...if you sally forth with those who go to vanquish the minions and progeny of these beasts, I wish to be by your side in that battle.”

  Attention! You have received the Salamander King’s consent to be summoned. +50% to damage done by this companion.

  “I will compose a song and perform it to anyone who cares to listen,” I promised and discerned gratitude in the eyes of the taciturn spirit. “Now, please resume your morose expressions. Who knows what powers that overgrown spider has. What if he is watching us even now?”

  “You needn’t worry,” Salamander assured me. “The Tarantulas never learned how to interpret facial expressions.”

  “Let’s not risk it,” I decided to be extra safe just in case. “I need several minutes to restore my mana and come up with a somewhat fitting song.

  The paladin and Salamander nodded silently and fanned out to cover the possible approaches to our party. Eid stroked his horse on the crupper with a sour expression on his face. What a strange creature: He feels no compassion for a child, but a horse occupies all his care. Maybe that’s because he was created by the biota, who have no children among them? Or is it because the horse is actually just another part of Eid’s incarnation?

  The girl, who was surprisingly quiet for her age, sat down across from me and watched me with wonder. The shimmering canopy faded and I sipped some water from my flask to increase my mana regen. Shutting my eyes, I recalled another song from the collection I had studied. Once I get back to meatspace, I’ll download an entire omnibus of prog songs to my visor. Practice shows that a bard in Barliona better have the widest repertoire possible.

  It took me some more time to compose a melody for the chord progression, but my companions waited patiently and didn’t hurry me either with gesture or word. Finally, I completed my preparations, cast the Canopy of Silence and broke into a ballad about a sad paladin who was in love with death.

  You have bound a song to the soul of the Paladin General. From now on, you may summon this soul from the Gray Lands by performing this song.

  Attention! Binding a song to a being that is not directly mentioned in the song can only be accomplished in person with the being in the Gray Lands.

  Attention! This song does not mention the Paladin General directly and its performance will not sustain this being in the Gray Lands.

  The canopy’s shimmer faded, yet silence reigned in the stone corridor for a while still.

  “An odd song,” the spirit of the so-called Paladin General interrupted our silence. “Is it possible to love death?”

  Uh-huh. In other words, I haven’t hit upon the paladin’s backstory. But the binding has taken place anyway. Is this like a bonus for those who go into the Gray Lands to find souls? Can I bind a spirit to a song that has nothing to do with it or does there have to be some minimal relevance like sharing the same race or class?

  “I don’t know,” I replied honestly. “They say that love knows no limits. But the important thing has been done—there is now a bond between your soul and the song and I will be able to summon you to Barliona. I won’t promise that I’ll do so soon, but I will definitely do it.”

  “Thank you, bard,” the paladin’s spirit nodded curtly in recognition. “I now have hope that I will complete what I have begun.”

  I smiled at the holy warrior and concentrated on the last soul that wasn’t bound. I didn’t know any songs fit for this child. It was rare that we sang anything about kids. Or was it just that I never listen to such songs? Whatever it was, the time had come to conduct a field experiment. Without overthinking it, I selected the child’s soul and played ‘Octupus’s Garden’ without singing the words.

  You have bound a tune to a creature’s soul. From now on, you may summon this soul from the Gray Lands by performing this tune.

  Attention! This song does not mention Anica directly and its performance will not sustain this being in the Gray Lands.

  Aha! So I can bind souls to whatever I like as long as I’m there to do it in person in the Gray Lands. I wonder how a tune without vocals can be bound to a soul? Unless it’s the soul of the tune’s composer...

  Okay. And what if I do the same thing with this here egg? My attempt was a failure. The system refused to bind anything to an object. Damn. It was all going so well...

  “Onwards! To the Gate!” I ordered, getting to my feet. “The time has come to meet the being that guards it!”

  As we moved further along the corridor, I began to discern some kind of noise, which was odd in and of itself: Until now, the only sound in this dreary place had been produced by me or the souls speaking with me. The noise grew as we approached and soon I began to make it out in more detail. And I liked these details less and less. A quiet, monotone howling gave way to impenetrable mumbling, then rose into a scream. Try as I might, I couldn’t discern anything concrete among it all. It seemed that the local environment limited not only visibility but hearing too.

  Salamander raised his hand, halting our party, and approached the girl. He squatted down so that she wouldn’t have to gape up at him and asked softly:

  “What is your name, child?”

  “Anica,” the girl’s soul replied. “And what’s your name, mister?”

  “Azur,” Salamander replied in turn and smiled at the sight of the girl’s lips repeating his name silently. “We are going to play a game. As soon as I, uncle paladin there and auntie bard tell you to do something, you will do whatever it is we told you to. And if he tells you something,” Salamander pointed at Eid who was casting them a condescending look, “or some stranger, you have to stick your tongue out at them. Understand?”

  “Uh-huh,” the girl nodded a little uncertainly. “It doesn’t sound like a very fun game.”

  “This is just the beginning,” the Salamander King assured her. “Later it’ll be your turn to tell us what to do. But that’s later. Okay?”

  “A
ll right!” Anica nodded happily.

  “In that case, let us begin,” Salamander announced, getting up. “Anica, stay behind uncle paladin and don’t step out from behind him.”

  The girl quickly hid behind the paladin’s massive figure and for some reason stuck out her tongue at Eid. Salamander nodded approvingly and looked back at me. Indeed, he still has some things to teach. I personally have never known how to deal with children. My lack of practice showed.

  Another soul-rending howl forced me back to more mundane matters. How can there be any matter at all in the Gray Lands? Per the nascent tradition, the Salamander King and the paladin bared their weapons. Eid meanwhile cast me a suspiciously sly look, as if he knew something we did not. What a ghoul he was. Soon as we get out of here, I’ll sing him a new guise...and I’ll be sure to use my entire arsenal of cheesy lines: ‘Her brows bobbed under the sign of the moon,’ and ‘the breeze set her lips aflutter,’ and ‘her eyes were like two three-carat diamonds.’ Oh and that’s right, I wanted to experiment with ‘her legs never ended, her teeth reflected the moon.’ I’d make a woman out of him. One that you’d need a good stiff drink to even look at. Acting the way he was, he certainly had not earned a noble and courageous appearance, the jerk.

  The Salamander King still looked at me expectantly, and so I postponed my fantasies of petty vengeance until calmer times. We had to decide what to do next. Since I didn’t understand what was going on any better than the others and since I was never a brilliant strategist (or tactician), I simply waved my hand and headed to the source of the sound. This quest is for bards, not great generals, after all, so I will complete it according to the tradition of musicians—by listening to my heart.

  The tunnel led us into a vast cave. The veins of some luminous ore gently gleamed amid the walls. Looking closely, I read the properties:

  A vein of spectral ore.

  Were I a bard miner, I’d have a field day here. But I was more interested in the creature rushing about the cave. It was about three meters in height, astonishingly curvy and rounded to such an extent that it reminded me of a ball of dough that had put on extra curves in preparation for hibernation. The impression was spoiled only by four small paws that from time to time darted from the thick fur. Unlike the other inhabitants of the Gray Lands, this creature had a traditional inscription with a name above his head: Ha’art the Gatekeeper (Level 440). And it turned out that the Gate he was keeping was a completely ordinary Barliona portal.

  “A-ah-ah!” Ha’art ended his scream on a high note, grabbed his head and rolled on the floor, continuing to scream. “Oooh! I hate it! I haaate it!”

  I have to admit that his screams scared me quite a bit. While the earlier Tarantula, despite its impressive dimensions and repulsive appearance, came across as a fictional being, this Ha’art fellow screamed very naturally. The image of a drug addict from a neighboring building instantly popped into my mind. A particularly bad experience with some bath salts had forced him to the roof of his apartment block and his poor relatives saved him only by having him hospitalized. The inhuman, mindless screams as the sturdy orderlies dragged him away, still seemed to me some of the most revolting sounds I’d ever heard. Ha’art’s cries sounded strikingly similar.

  “Ya-ya-ya,” the shaggy ball hollered and looked up at me with red eyes. “Argh!”

  I assumed a defensive posture, but the monster did not attack. It took me a few seconds to realize that his eyes were not shining, they were simply inflamed—like a student’s the night before finals.

  “The Liviiing!” Ha’art howled as loud as he could and in two hops bounced over to me.

  Now I could discern his face. It resembled a grotesque caricature of a human one: ample bags under inflamed red eyes, a large nose curved to the lips and a wide mouth spanning ear to ear.

  “It’s all youuu!” the gatekeeper yelled at me with his gaping and impressive mouth. Fortunately, there were no smells here, so I was spared knowing what he’d eaten for breakfast.

  “Youuu are tooo blaaame!” Ha’art raged and flopped before me.

  “For what?” I could not stand these unfounded accusations. I’d never seen this guy and did not recall having offended anyone like this creature before. “I just want to go to the Gate, nothing more.”

  “So gooo!” the gatekeeper acquiesced unexpectedly. “Get out of heeere!”

  I had no desire to look a gift horse in the mouth, and given that I’d already been forced to see Ha’art’s teeth up close, I didn’t object. I waved at my companions and went straight to the portal.

  “Nooo!” crazy old Ha’art rushed forward and blocked the souls’ progress. “Only the liviiing. This is no place for the liviiing! Souls can’t leeeaaave!” he howled.

  Well here we are then. It turns out that the gatekeeper only keeps the souls of the dead from leaving. I can leave without any problems, only by myself. I wonder if this applies to Eid too? He’s, like, not a local either. I glanced at the soul of the instrument. Judging by his grin, the gatekeeper won’t keep him either.

  Okay. What are my options? Judging by the traditional indicators like name, level and his ample HP, we didn’t stand a chance against Ha’art. Maybe if I had a comparable level and a raiding party behind my back, it’d be different, but given the context and the location, it is unlikely that such a straightforward solution would do. So, I guess I should chat him into submission.

  “Oh, they’re not going anywhere,” I told Ha’art as sincerely as I could. “We would only like to get to the portal. They just came to see me off. Well, you know, say good-bye, wish me good luck, pass on some greetings to the other side. They’re just going to wave me goodbye and go about their business. Right boys?”

  Salamander nodded eagerly, but the paladin’s answer was unexpected:

  “That is a lie.”

  Apparently my face expressed my surprise eloquently enough, since the paladin explained without waiting for the question:

  “I cannot tell a lie. My vows to Eluna prohibit me from distorting the truth.”

  Oh come on. I will have to remember this detail when I summon this goody-two-shoes to Barliona. A companion like that will ruin quests left and right—and spill every sin and misdemeanor he witnesses along the way. Why he might even insist on a tribunal right there on the spot.

  “Words! False words! Too many wooords!” Ha’art howled again, grabbed his matted locks and began rolling around the cave in a mad, furry fury. He moved so quickly that there was simply no chance to slip past him and into the portal. “You speak unnecessary words and you keep the important ones to yourseeelf!”

  What are the important words? A password? I do not know any password. The Salamander King’s and Paladin General’s puzzled looks told me that they didn’t know either.

  “Will you please explain what the matter is?” I couldn’t help but exclaim. My head was beginning to ache from his all his hollering. I could see no debuffs, so the effect was purely psychosomatic. “What are these unnecessary and important words?”

  Without ceasing to roll around the cave, Ha’art began to chatter madly:

  “Words spinning in my head...Unfinished verses...Unsung songs...The wind of the Intermundis carries them to me. They clamor in my head! Oooh!” he howled. “They’re driving me crazyyy! I haaate them! I just waaant to sleeep! But they won’t let meee!”

  It was not simple to discern the message among Ha’art’s delirium and I was not sure that I understood correctly.

  “How can unsung songs keep you from sleeping?” I barely managed to inject the question into the gatekeeper’s renewed mumbling.

  “I can heeear them...” Ha’art’s voice fell to a barely audible whisper. “What the living composed, but never performed! The dead wind sings me dead songs and doesn’t let me sleep. Yeeears...Centurieees...Eeeons....Oooh...”

  With a crazed wail, Ha’art orbited the cave like a furry comet, leaving me completely at a loss. If I understood correctly, this NPC hears something like
the ghosts of compositions? The stillborn poems and songs, swarms of which dwell in the minds of people. Is this just a developer’s fantasy or has Barliona penetrated so deeply into our consciousness that the corporation can really read ideas and intentions? After all, isn’t creation in the Intermundis a reading of images directly from my brain? If so, I would give a lot to dig around in Ha’art’s overflowing head. The next moment, the insane gatekeeper uttered such a pitiful, high-pitched moan that I felt ashamed. The poor fellow is in this dreary place and he hasn’t slept in years, and I’m thinking about how to steal something interesting from him. Okay. I’ll try to help him somehow.

  Without paying any attention to his incessant muttering, I sat down on the floor of the cave, arranged the eid on my lap, remembered one folk lullaby and began to play. The furball slowed down, rolled closer, looked at me with longing in his bloodshot eyes and began plaintively wailing an octave lower. Damn, do I sing that poorly? To clear my conscience, I played another lullaby, but there was no result. Ha’art did not fall asleep.

  So, the solution to the problem lies in a different plane. If there are unsung songs in his head, maybe if I finish one of my drafts right here and now, he’ll find some relief? Although how would a single silenced melody help when there were hundreds of thousands in his head? I had no other ideas, so I might as well try it. I just have to decide what that’ll be...

  My eyes stopped on the Salamander King. Yeah, it would be ideal to immediately create a ballad about the rebel king but I had to face the truth: It’s not that simple to just cook up a good ballad on the spot. Even a burst of inspiration would only allow me to write a passable sketch, which would then require many painstaking hours of honing the rhymes and polishing the melody. Sitting around here for several days with interruptions to exit to meatspace in order to sleep and maintain the capsule did not appeal to me, so it’s necessary to work with something I already had. I’d been grappling with a ballad about the Lord of Shadow for several days already, but it still hadn’t come together. I had a bunch of couplets and phrases, but they didn’t yet resemble a unified whole. I knew too little about Geranika to connect what I had in a single thread, a narrative. Instead, what I had pertained to Shadow in general and even then it was more the result of a fantasy based on what I had seen in the clip about the failed shaman student and my own observations. Hmm. Or maybe this was just what I needed? Forget for a while about Geranika and write about Shadow?