Author's Note: What if Jo didn't die? What if she fell for someone before the Rakshas could infect her? A half-Dhracian Singer visits Ylorc under the rule of it's new king, with a surprising gift that sweeps the teenager off of her occurs while Ashe and Rhapsody are in Elysian for the first time together.
Achmed, Grunthor, Jo and Rhapsody, as well as any other Symphony of Ages characters, ideas and places belong to Elizabeth Haydon. Lyrics belong to The Killers. No money is being made from this work. Please read and review. =)
The Singer of Hearts Chapter 1
The wind was cool as it flew across the heath, the long, spring grasses of the Kravensfield plain bending to the sigh of the earth after her slumber during the winter months. Across the skyline in the east stretched the Teeth and the lands of the inhuman Bolg, the rocky mountains, thin and pointed like a toothy grin holding up the sky. Landon stood on the road leading up to Canrif, now called Ylorc, looking up at the crags, awestruck for the threatening beauty with which they dominated the horizon. After several moments, he smiled and proceeded forth, his cloak whipping gently in the wind that blew in this untouched morning.
Deep within the Cauldron, the antechamber was quiet as Landon waited to be seen by the king of the Bolg. He'd heard stories all the way to the coast in Tyrian and Avonderre of the ancient seat of Cymrian royalty being wrestled back from the dank depths to which it had sunk in the last few hundred centuries, but he hadn't believed it. Now that he was here, he found himself delighted to see the stony chambers of ancient grandeur awakening from a nightmarish slumber. Although the inhuman beasts known as Bolg were everywhere in these tunnels, Lan immediately recognized them for their more civilized qualities, watching as the guards stood watch at the doorways or a passing band of soldiers marched down a side tunnel on his way here. They were warlike, brutal and ugly, to be sure, but they were not as monstrous as he and others had been led to believe. Afterall, he'd been escorted here with nary a threat of being made a meal. That had to account for something, didn't it?
Finally, after sharing a many uneasy and awkward smile in the silence with his sentinel, the inner door opened wide and he was asked to come forward. With a cheerful sigh, Landon stood and straightened his cloak, walking forward with an easy saunter, his eyes traveling over every surface with the awe of a tourist on a sight-seeing journey.
In the main room, a thin, tall man in dark robes sat upon one of a pair of thrones up on a dais, looking him over carefully with mismatched eyes. An 8ft monster of a man in heavy armor stood by his side, and a young blonde maiden sat off in a far corner, busily playing with a knife and barely casting a glance in his direction. A smile tugged at the edge of Landon's lips as his bright eyes wandered around the room. This was where Gwylliam and Anwyn had ruled the once great nation! Of course it's glory had faded with time and was crumbling and dusty, but it could not hide the whispers of ages and glory and the ancient breath of time hung heavy here. It was like touching the past through a glass window and watching it unfold.
Achmed's eyes narrowed as he took in the stranger standing before him. A young man no older than 20, with large, dark eyes and a slender nose topping curving bow-shaped lips. His hair was a dark brown, cropped short and close to his scalp, and he wore a light, sturdy cloak with rich-looking clothes underneath. His shirt was long sleeved and a light olive green, with a dark brown vest over top of it, embroidered with copper designs. His trousers were a light, greenish brown, almost tan and hugged his long slender legs comfortably down to calf-high and laced up brown boots. The young man's appearance all came together to speak of a down-played and rustic wealth with just the hint of vanity thrown in.
"What is your name and what do you want?" the robed figure said in a voice that was heavy and rasped, like sand trickling through an hourglass, holding a level of curt impatience in it. The voice of Death himself. Landon's attention which had been wandering over the room, instantly fell upon the man sitting on the throne, and he swallowed thickly to see the man's veiny and twisted features, exposed to the air. "My guards tell me you're a musician." Achmed said with an unkind smile.
Landon blushed unwittingly at the terse and almost crude tone in the king's voice, feeling flustered that his gift might not have been as well received as he'd originally anticipated. But licking his lips and clearing his throat, he straightened himself and regained the confidence he'd had when originally entering this room. "Yes, indeed, I am," he said with his head held high. "My name is Landon Cane. I'm a singer of great renown across the land and with a highly prized gift. I'd heard about the revival of the kingdom of Canrif and came to see it for myself and entertain the royalty, if I may."
"If you is lookin' for a job as the royal bard, that job's already taken," the heavily armored monster said in a thick accent.
"Yes, I believe our musical needs are being provided for quite sufficiently," the king said with a mocking smirk. "So, you can just take your little instruments and be on your way, not having wasted your time or mine."
As Lan stood gaping, he felt a thick fingered hand touch his elbow, the guard stepping forward to escort him from the room. He shook the man beast off and said coolly, "I don't use instruments." His hands splayed out and spread his cloak open wide to expose the clothing underneath. Where one would typically see, for a professional Namer or Singer or other musician, a hanging case for a flute or lyre of some kind, there was nothing but the clothes on his back.
A snort from the corner of the room caught his attention as the young teenage girl was now balancing the knife upon her finger and said with a note of derision, "A musician who doesn't play instruments? What's in such high demand? You must sing like an angel." The sarcasm dripped heavily in her voice, and she still did not favor him with a glance.
As Landon's eyes fell upon her, he stopped and stared for a few moments, his lips smiling crookedly at the challenge offered by someone who was obviously more bored with this conversation than the people who were involved in it apparently were. Before the king could agree with her however, Landon spread his arms wide in offering. "How about a demonstration?" he asked, looking at the robed king of the Bolg with a question in his eyes.
There was a long silence as the king just sat staring at the young man. He had things to get to and a kingdom to organize and plans to make. He really didn't have time to listen to some pansy sing his ear off with the false hope of being able to do so more than once. But there was something intriguing about this visitor. The pomposity and hope was enough to make his eventual rejection worthwhile. "Very well," Achmed said with a sneer and a bored wave of his hand, slumping back to lounge in the grand seat that he occupied. "But do try and make it entertaining and do something original or that I haven't heard before. With my own personal Singer, you can imagine how many times I've heard all of the old stories."
Yes! He was finally getting his chance! It hadn't been as hard as he'd thought it would be, but not nearly as easy as he'd hoped. Still, an opportunity had been given. That was all he needed. Breathing deeply, he adjusted his cloak so that it was out of the way of his arms and he held them out a little at waist level. Closing his eyes, he let out the breath he'd taken in, slow and letting the air whistle past his plush lips.
Achmed sat on the stony throne, his buttocks lounging so low on the seat that they perched on the edge, his legs touching the ground in a lackadaisical manner, his right foot crossed over his left knee and jiggled the thin booted foot with impatience. He watched with a sneer of scorn on his face as the young man prepared himself, and the expression faded quickly, his eyes opening wide when he felt a familiar hum enter the room, the sound of it prickling along his skin.
A similar thing was happening with Landon, except the low hum was being emitted by him, his skin vibrating with a sound that grew in tempo. Finally, when the "stage" was set, he opened his eyes and opened his mouth, his voice, clear and harmonious coming out with a fluid melody. Along with it, a sound began to flow as well, weaving with the words, almost like unseen instruments being played to the beat and tune of the song, vibrating in the air as if they were being played upon the skin of everyone in the room.
Console me in my darkest hour
Convince me that the truth is always grey
Caress me in your velvet chair
Conceal me from the ghost you cast away
There was a natural echo provided by the stone chambers of the Cauldron, but there was also a level of depth to Landon's voice as he sang the words. His face took on an animation and the room seemed to fill with electric life, sparking palpably. Achmed slowly sat up in his chair, his piercing gaze fixated on the man who stood in the middle of the floor producing these strange vibrations and emissions that articulated more to him than the words of the song verbally could.
Console me in my darkest hour
And tell me that you always hear my cries
I wonder what you got conspired
I'm sure it was the consolation prize
I heard you found a wishing well
In the city
Console me in my darkest hour
And you throw me down
I ain't in no hurry, you go on
And tell your friends I'm losing touch
Fill your crowd with rumors
Impending doom, it must be true
And about how you got lost, but you made your way back home
You went and sold your soul, an allegiance dead and gone
I'm losing touch
At the last chorus of the song, other voices, one deep, one low and one higher-pitched, joined Landon's singing in unison as his four throats operated together and his lips moved to form the words. And the hum upon his skin was joined by the rhythmical vibration of his nasal cavities to increase the tempo and volume of the stringed and percussion "instruments" playing along as the song reached a crescendo and finally ended as his voice fell silent. With a bright light in his dark eyes and the room sitting completely still, he bowed deeply, casting his cloak out to the side in a gesture of grandeur.