11. A TALE OF A FLUTE
Altena had the greatest technology in the world, including its only airship. Skipping this to ride a turtle was something Valda had not been prepared to experience.
Still, it was not without its benefits, as she soon discovered. The ride was rather quick, and surprisingly smooth. The water rippled around their transportation, instead of splashing over them. And the shell was nearly the size of her sitting room, allowing ample room to stretch out.
It was probably close to twenty-four hours to Pedan via turtle, whereas Valda would have expected a week-ish by ship, if one could even be obtained to go to that jungle island. A long leg, to be sure, but she amused herself by catching up with her companions.
The story of the flute was an adventure of its own.
"It was maybe a year after we were married. Simone and I were looking to get a little 'alone' time," Loki guffawed, with a look that told Valda exactly what kind of "alone" time he had been seeking. "We left Forcena on a whim, and sailed a small boat to Bucca."
Valda listened in rapt attentiveness.
--
A small sailboat should have been enough, in the relatively calm waters of the Bucca Ocean. Simone trailed her fingers through the water as Loki worked the sails, the sandy beach of the uninhabited isle visible in the distance. She would take her turn when he tired, never one to shirk, but he was enjoying looking at her far too much.
He never knew what color to call her hair. In dull light or winter sunshine, some might call it green, but here today, under bright, clear skies, it shone like pale moonlight. The tint was from a Navarrian in the family tree, one owning the blue hair that was only found among the desert people. This bit of her ancestry was lost so far back that it could not be said how much of it was in her. But the color remained, and Loki sometimes thought, some of the spirit as well - a self-reliance and personal honor that often went beyond what Forcenans would consider duty.
He was enjoy his moment of stolen appreciation when the first tremor rumbled in the distance.
Simone turned sharply to her husband, fear flickering across her face, but Loki could not comfort her as he grasped the tiller sharply, trying to stabilize the boat in the suddenly rocking seas.
"The volcano!" Simone cried, now standing to peer towards the island in concern. "It's supposed to be dormant!"
"Maybe the Goddess has it in for us!" her husband cried back, before being drowned out by the next rumble from the volcano that now seemed so dangerously close. The calm sea became rough around them, and Loki was suddenly thrown to the bottom of the boat, the sails now flapping wildly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Simone thrown thankfully in, not out of the boat, and he instinctively reached towards her as he struggled to hands and knees.
No need. She was already pulling herself up, despite the increasing tremors, as worried for him as he was for her, and doing a better job of it by far. But as she grasped the rail, and saw over the top, a look of horror crossed her face.
"Loki..." she trailed off, but he jerked himself up and saw for himself.
Erupting volcanoes produced earthquakes. And earthquakes created... tsunamis.
He dove for her, as the full force of the wave hit. Their hands met, and he squeezed with all his might, as the water crashed over the decks with the fury of Undine and the roar of the Underworld.
--
An empty silence, broken only by the occasional call of a seabird, greeted Loki upon awakening.
He didn't even have time to think of her before she was there, her face leaning above his, hair paler than the sand around him falling into his face, he instinctively brushing it away where it tickled his nose. But everything else about her was more than welcome.
Pain began to grow, distracting him, and he groaned. "Hold on," she murmured. "I think your arm is broken. I didn't want to heal it while you were unconscious; I think you're going to have to be with me on this one."
Loki only nodded. Even though a Knight of Gold was trained in stoicism, this pain was getting too intense for words. And if it was that bad, he knew she was right to wait. With injuries of this gravity, had he been unconscious, the shock of healing might have killed him, his system too weak to comprehend the changes.
She took hold of his wrist and elbow, and as she pushed the two back into place against each other, he felt it. The magic of Lumina.
He yelped, involuntarily; among other knights, he would not have cried out, but with only her here, there was nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to prove. A second later, and it was done, though the memory of pain remained to make him skittish, and the sickening sound of bone scraping against bone. He wanted to scream; he wanted to vomit.
He flexed the arm experimentally. It was as if the break had never been. But he had known that would be the case.
She sat back, breathing hard, and he turned his attention to her. Even with training, her ability had always been minor, and this would have taken a lot out of her.
"Wow, good thing you did that class change. You might not have been able to help me otherwise," he said encouragingly.
She looked at him with resentment, though not meant for him. "And why doesn't Forcena have a name for a woman who's been through it?" she asked, accusingly, as if he was there to speak for all of his gender. "A man is a Knight. If I don't wear armor and carry a sword, then what am I?"
"A Priestess?" Loki teased. They had had this discussion before. "Or would you like to be an Amazon?"
"I'm serious, Loki," she replied, with a sniff. "Few women in our country even want to try nowadays, like it was something the Goddess created for men."
"I don't know, my love," he told her, wrapping his arms, both good and repaired, around her in a very familiar way. "It's Forcena. Maybe it will change, but for now, it is what it is." She relaxed slightly against him. "But for now, we have more important concerns. How are we getting off this island?"
They both turned to look towards the water's edge, where shreds of a sail clung to the broken arm of what was once their mast...
--
They had been traveling through the forest for only a day and a night, but the monotony made it seem like forever. The two did not know what they were looking for, exactly; food and water, most immediately, but after that, the need to leave the island lurked a distant second.
Perhaps a message, they had wondered, but how could they be sure it would reach Byzel, the only nearby town on the mainland? And from there, make it back to the people who cared, in Forcena? Even then, the simple problem of how to create and transport such a message eluded them. Loki cursed the romantic notion that had led them to slip away in the night, with no notice of when they might be back.
Well, they were together, and together they would figure it out. And if not, at least he would be with her on this island for the rest of their lives.
With that thought, they burst through the trees to find a lazy trickle of freshwater, not a river and barely a brook. Simone dove towards it, gulping the water with almost unquenchable thirst.
Sated, she looked up with a new awareness of their surroundings. "Let's follow the river to the source," she suggested. "If there is anything to find, it will be along the river."
"There's nothing to find," scoffed a demoralized Loki. "Everyone knows Bucca Island is uninhabited."
Simone only looked at him, expressionless, and that saying more than any emotion. "Then we'll find the top of the hill," she told him, "and we can decide what to do from there."
--
Loki was eating his words the next day when they found the village.
A poor enough village it was, a collection of ramshackle huts. Some had collapsed in the earthquakes; though, being made of little more than twigs, they were reassembled nearly as easily.
A floating figure, perhaps three feet tall and eerily cloaked, drifted towards them, suspended at waist level above the ground. Loki's instincts caused him to step before Simone, but as he reached for his sword the figure spoke, in a distinctively human and putatively female voice.
"So long, since we have seen another human," the voice intoned.
"Where are we?" Loki demanded.
"You have found the village of the Dark Priests," the woman spoke. "Or you might call us Enchanters and Enchantresses. Of Wendel, we were once, but that was long ago. Decades, maybe centuries, we do not know." Simone stepped forward, hesitantly, pulling down Loki's tensed arm. He lowered it, reluctantly, still feeling on edge.
The floating figures surrounded them as, side by side, they entered the village. Curiosity seemed the dominant emotion among its inhabitants, and Loki gradually let go of his discomfort, as they grew closer. One beckoned towards a hut, larger than the rest, and they followed.
A grand totem graced the center of the village. Garish animal heads decorated it, birds, beasts, fish. "What is it?" Loki inquired.
"The Goddess," the figure intoned. "Or, as we know Her now. Sometimes, in the rest of the world, she is thought of as a woman. Sometimes, she is remembered as a tree. But we have come to understand that she is of all faces and none."
--
They stayed in the village for a week, the guests of their cloaked host, who never revealed herself any more than the others.
But all were more than happy to speak, and Loki and Simone learned. This tribe used a different magic. Strange that they came from the Holy City to do so.
"They believe in the need to know the Underworld as well as the Goddess," Valda interrupted. "A little-known secret, even in Wendel, is that the Temple of Light dabbles in more underworld magic than any other group of magic users."
Loki looked at her, considering. "I guess that would explain a lot. But we didn't know it at the time."
They could summon creatures, some of this world, and some of the... other. Summoning, and taming, a spawn of the underworld, was no easy task, and even for those who were successful, the summoner began to be tamed in a way, themselves. One lived the length of a human life, but after that, did not die, but became something else altogether. And there were few ways to live beyond, in the ordinary world. Most found a refuge. Some went to the elves, who lived much longer than humans. Some went to Pedan, the ancient city. And others were scattered over the world, like here, on Bucca.
"But you are not one of us," she told them. "You are not meant to stay here, you belong to the land of the living still."
"What about the eruptions?" demanded Simone. Though less intense than the day they had been shipwrecked, rumbles and puffs of smoke from the volcano visible above reminded them of what was imminent. "You won't survive them any better than we would."
"If we are not already dead now, I do not think this will be what kills us," she replied. "It is not our place to judge. But for you..." And from somewhere deep in her cloak, she produced a slender flute.
Loki reached for it questioningly. "I don't have much talent for music."
The Enchantress laughed, a silvery sound quite unexpected that filled the confines of the hut. "It won't be necessary," she told him mysteriously. "Just go to the cliffs a short way north of the beach and blow into it, chosen of the Goddess. The Goddess takes care of the rest."
"We thank you, Dark Priestess," Simone said politely. "Who are you really?"
The figure reached up with one long-sleeved appendage, and with one quick motion, pushed the hood back. The face underneath was blood-red and puffy, resembling nothing so much as a tomato.
Simone squealed, a girlish sound Loki was surprised to hear from his courageous wife. He was tempted to recoil himself, but something pulled him forward, perhaps the knowledge of a shared bond to the dark with this one-time Wendelian.
He reached out to touch the tainted skin, and as his fingers made contact, the illusion shattered, to reveal the face of a woman. She had the silvery-white hair common to Wendel, and a face that somehow revealed age without its scars, leaving only dignity, knowledge, and perhaps... regret.
"Who are you?" Simone now demanded, with overtones of anger at the trickery.
The woman still levitated, but now only inches above the ground, standing as a human would. "The name no longer matters," she told them quietly. "Once, I was of Wendel, and my husband was the Priest of Light. Our great-grandson now holds the post."
"Great-grandson?" Loki asked with doubt. "The current Priest is over fifty. His father would have been your grandson, and he was over eighty when he died. So you must be..."
"Very old," the Enchantress agreed. "But the years matter no more than the name. The holiest city in the world dips deepest into the underworld, in the name of the Goddess, and we pay her price. It is not a punishment, but we pay it nevertheless."
The crackling of the fire was the only sound that broke the silence, as Loki and Simone attempted to take it all in, the sorrowful, nameless, unknown Dark Priestess meeting their eyes.
Not a Priestess, thought Loki. An angel, at least for them.
Finally she spoke. "You must go," she told them. "I will make sure in the morning none of us can be found, so you will have nothing to stay for. Leave now, and let the Goddess lead you on your way."
--
Loki and Simone lay close, now only the two of them, their host having departed to wherever she might go. The aloneness now felt somewhat unfamiliar.
Loki held his wife close to him with his left arm, his right arm free to hold her hand. He was reveling in her closeness, when she shifted upwards to kiss him.
Their intimacy had always been easy and comfortable, but the kiss felt strange. Trapped in their worries on this, a remote tropical island, somehow they seemed to have forgotten anything but comfort. But now that they had been granted a way out, part of her, at least, remembered.
And was not taking no for an answer. He had no desire to fight her at first, but as her kisses grew insistent, he pushed her away.
She propped herself up on his chest, a mixture of hurt and irritation in her eyes.
"Here, and now?" he asked her. "We could have a child out of this." She looked back at him, her hazel eyes blazing. "I don't care," she replied. "You are my husband, and I am your wife. By any estimation, we should not even be alive right now, much less together, and whatever needs to happen, will happen."
She was right, he knew. She always was, when she spoke that way. He argued no more with her that night.
--
The next morning, they found themselves setting out towards the coast of the island once again, to a spot not terribly far from where they had first found themselves on this volcanic island. The rumbles continued, reminding them time was not infinite.
True to the Enchantress's word, they found the village empty that day, the breeze the only other noise, a strange counterpart to the restless earth. Where they had gone, Loki had not known. The night before had all been so strange, that he could have believed he had imagined it all. But he reached into his pocket and his hand closed around the slender silver flute, its cold metal as real as the hilt of the sword he carried on his other side.
They hurried, following the river's meandering path, crashing through vegetation with all the grace of a bullette in an item shop. A mistake, they realized later, as a swarm of bees rose out of the bushes.
Not a swarm. Only a handful, but they were gargantuan and slightly humanoid, and were not attacking with stingers. They carried weapons.
"Monsters," Simone breathed.
Mana didn't seem to want them to leave the island, Loki thought, whipping out his sword.
The Swordmaster had dealt with much worse than this, and disposing of these corrupted creatures would be easy enough. The hard part was keeping Simone out of harm's way, as the creatures swooped in from all directions. Loki felt another cut on his arm from the right, as he swung to his left to catch another diving for his unarmed wife.
He was being pressed hard, and it was a critical moment, four diving for him at once, when he heard her cry. Loki turned to see her crouched down, hand to her chest.
Madness filled him. If she died... He never could remember what happened to the rest of the bees; he only noticed afterward that they had been sliced into a number of insect parts littering the clearing to rot. All he remembered was Simone, pain in her eyes.
He pulled her hands from her chest roughly to look at the injury. Vital organs had been missed, and her efforts with Lumina's magic had already begun healing the gash in her skin. But he did not need to be told it was not enough.
She looked at him plaintively. "There was poison on that weapon," she told him. "I can't do anything about it myself, all I can do it stave it off for the moment."
"Are you able to go on?" Loki asked worriedly. They could not stay, but if she did not have the strength to go with him...
"I have to." She stood to her feet shakily.
They proceeded more slowly now, Simone with hand to her chest, Loki doing his best to support her as they clambered down the sandy slope to find the cliffs they had been promised.
He pulled the flute out, looking at it doubtfully. Such a small thing to have placed all their hopes on. Simone slid it out of his hand to fondle it for a moment, then pulled it to her lips to blow into it.
The flute's dulcet chimes whistled through the air, but faded to the silence of the island once again. Simone tried again, and again, but the flute's sound seemed ever more mournful, echoing the sudden drop in Loki's mood. Simone threw the flute to the ground in frustration, then suddenly wheezed with the effort of it all.
Loki picked up the implement, brushing off the sand. He raised it to his own lips, and -
For a moment, nothing happened, and Loki had been ready to throw the thing into the ocean. But the waves began to roil and swirl before him, something rising from their depths.
The creature that appeared... was it really a giant turtle? It seemed to want to help them, crawling part way onto the beach with what seemed to be an expectant look in its eyes.
Simone pouted. "Why didn't it work for me?"
"I can't say exactly," he told her. "I think it's something of the fairy, or the Goddess. I don't think it will work for just anyone."
She dropped the subject. There really was no point in arguing, this was their way off the island, their way back home.
--
"The flute wasn't all we got out of it," Loki finally concluded. "It was nine months later, practically to the day, that Duran was born."
"You should tell her the rest," Richard interjected, the first words he had spoken in a couple of hours. "Don't hide it like you think it will go away."
Loki gave the other man a sharp look, and Richard returned a challenging gaze. Valda only shifted from one to the other in confusion.
Loki pulled his eyes away first, and breathed a deep sigh. "She never recovered from the injury, Valda," he finally told her, breaking the silence. "The poison did something, something with her heart that the healers can't fix. That was the last time we were able to go on an adventure together. I don't think she minds, exactly, now that she has children to occupy her, but I can see it debilitates her. It comes and goes. She insisted she was well enough for me to leave her, and her sister is staying with her at our house now. I can only hope, for the sake of our children..." Loki left the thought unfinished.
Valda turned away, to watch the miles of ocean rushing past them, Loki's sad story causing her to quietly descend into her own brooding thoughts.
own brooding thoughts.
