Umm, I bet you are all wondering why Tekk did that. Truth to tell, I don't know. But she has to end up in the dungeons with a harp for this next part to work, and I couldn't think of anything else! So shoot me! Oh, PS. I copied a bunch of stuff for this one, and it's not mine. Sorry this chapter took so long! Credits at the end, I don't want anyone guessing what the stuff is. Take another note: I used ":" for showing that this certain animal is talking, because I can't put it just in italics because that's what I do for thought. I've also been reading too much Mercedes Lackey.
Disclaimer that I keep forgetting: I didn't create any of TP's characters, they all belong to her.
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Chapter 8: Voicing Song
Tekkiake sat in the cell, unmoving. The guards weren't sure she was alive, but they had orders to guard the cell and watch her at all times. So they did.
Tekk sank deep into a well of despair, neither speaking nor eating. That was just as well, since the guards gave her no food. She did not know what had become of Rowan, Farrah, and Arandiall, and didn't care. She just sank farther into her depression, occasionally plucking strings on her harp. It was almost two months before she attempted to play it.
Once she made an attempt to play it, it seemed to awake something in her. She asked for food, preferably meat, and she ate the little meat that was on the bones they gave her, and then cracked them open for the marrow. They thought her mad; somehow she didn't care. When she played the harp she didn't forget, but she could let go of all the pain she had been carrying these past few months. She had never had lessons, but slowly, bit by bit, she learned the rudiments of music. It wasn't really like learning something; but more like remembering something after a long, long time.
The one man assigned to guarding her cell was entranced by her singing. It was a voice so soft, so pure, and accompanied by the harp it was simply ethereal. Her songs were sad, painful, mourning. It was a song of friendship lost, of death and pain.
The guard was left almost in tears. It was like she meant every bit of it, like she had experienced it not once, but many times and felt it every time.
"Lass," he said, "Stop. I canna stand such music, it's enough to drive a body to tears."
Tekkiake stopped, looking up at the guard. "It is truth. The truth can be painful." She returned to her playing. If anything, it seemed as if she was mocking the man, singing songs of a soldier's glory so sarcastically that only an idiot would not see it.
Long hours of playing made their existence clear. Tekkiake suddenly realized that she had some kind of gift for playing. Perhaps it was her stormsing heritage, and the stormsing's ability to seduce anyone with its song. But whatever Tekkiake sang, it induced a mood of whatever the song was, whether it be a jig or a romantic ballad or a lament. She particularly enjoyed the laments.
"Cold as death, death-bearing
Stay and die, unguided
Brave and braving, linger
This way was twice decided."
"Stop it!" said the guard. "I canna bear any more of this! Every time ye play that bloody lyre-thing of yers, I retreat it tears! Have some compassion for your fellow man!"
Tekkiake looked up coldly at him. "If you said that purple pigs were flying past my face you might be less true than the statement you have just voiced. I am not a man; I am more a woman. I am not even entirely human; my father was a stormsing. I do have far more compassion than you think, elsewise I would not be singing songs of love lost. How can one who has no compassion mourn for losing it? I am singing for myself, not for you. If you don't like it, then get lost."
"How can I get lost, ye feathers-fer-brains! If I left me post, th'Regent'd have me hide! I ain't getting' paid fer listnin' t'ye wail!"
Tekkiake returned once again to her harping. "That is your predicament, not mine. I have rights to play this harp, so deal with it."
The man was stunned by her frankness. Then again, if she was part stormsing as she claimed, he was lucky that she wasn't trying to seduce him, or spouting a long string of curses bad enough to wither plants. So he gave up.
***
Meanwhile…
The young dragon Skysong lurked about the Palace, seeking the kitchens. Dammit, he thought, cooks all over the place. I hate invisibility spells.
A soft whistle was all that was voiced, and Skysong was scurrying through the kitchen with no one the wiser. Stupid mortals. Haven't enough wits to fill a teaspoon. Even that second-rate so-called keeper of mine. She ran off with that Light Inside mage-man after getting herself married and pregnant. Idiot.
Long years of scrounging and abandonment made Skysong bitter. She even made up that stupid nickname for me. "Kitten". Kitten! How demeaning! I was young and ignorant enough to fall for it.
That thought alone would make a full grown dragon chuckle, as Skysong was barely twenty years old. But he had grown into a lot older in the past decade. He had cast a forgetting spell on himself, even if someone saw him they would forget immediately. He whistled locks off doors, among other useful talents. And he always knew when magic was about. He had been lost, forgotten, all these years, but he still roamed the palace, living off rats and food stolen from the kitchens. Suddenly, Skysong halted in his path. A haunting music floated in his mind rather than his ears, calling to him.
Brethren to my soul
I conjure thee:
By stream and starlight,
By sun and shadow,
By song and storm wind,
Show me thy tale!
By the darkness of the stone's heart,
By the silence of the sea's tears,
By the whisper of the sky's breath,
By the dawning of the star's flame,
Do as I will thee!
Power of water, wind, and earth,
Turn the spell back to its birth,
Raise the fire to free the lord,
By the power of wood and sword.
The song pulled the young dragon into a trance, following the magic. It called him down into the darkest dungeons, the smell of rot and damp assailing his nostrils. He squirmed through the bars of a cell, and finally the spell let go. So did his illusion.
Tekkiake opened her eyes to see a pair of slitted green globes looking at her. She didn't move a fraction of an inch.
:You called me: said the dragon. :I am Skysong. What do you want?:
Tekk narrowed her eyes. "I sang. You came. That's your problem."
:You used a spell of calling. You have magic in that voice, human. You also have Wild Magic. I have long-standing grudges with one who has magic like yours. A certain brown-haired bitch with a stork-man for a boyfriend.:
Tekkiake's eyes widened again. "You mean Daine? Don't worry, lizard-bat, she's dead. Jaunne killed her." She looked away, tears threatening to fall. "Then she died."
He rolled his eyes, if that was possible. :My deepest condolences, Daine-daughter.:
Tekkiake just stared. "How did you know?"
:I know some things,: he said smugly. :And that is one of them. Jaunne was your step-sister, I know. Now, how did you get yourself locked away down here?:
Tekk related the whole story to him, and he listened.
:Interesting,: he said. :I think we can strike up a partnership…:
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I love it! Oh, and the credits. The first song was by Anne McCaffrey (rhyme from Dragonflight) And that song that Tekkiake summoned Kit with was actually a combination of rhymes from Talking to Dragons by Patricia Wrede. It actually went "Sword of the Sleeping King, I conjure thee:…" but what does the Sword of the Sleeping King have to do with this story? (***Totally irrelevant- I constantly kept saying the "Sword of Stephen King". I never could say it right!!***) I just wanted to find something that sounded deep and mystical.