If I Were a Herald
Chapter 16
The Wind Beneath My Wings
Disclaimer: Don't own the song, don't own the country. Considering getting together with Mortimer to take over Valdemar—just kidding, Lyrna! But just consider it. It could so work. Me and the Vrondi are best buddies; they don't bother me at all any more. So I could do all the magical stuffs. Valdemar would never know what had hit it.
This chapter is dedicated to Lyrna, because she really doesn't get enough credit in the story. And to all Companions, because they seem to get short shrift in fanfiction. People are too busy talking about what heroes they are to care about their Companions. They're also rather neglected in songs. The only song about a Herald that I can think of off-hand that does mention the Companion is "Demonsbane," and it only mentions Yfandes once, and only as part of Vanyel's refusal to be bribed. Even I have been guilty of this. I don't usually talk about the other Companions, mostly because I don't feel like coming up with names for them.
For those of you who don't know "The Leslac Version," it's a freaking hilarious song. It's in the back of Oathbreakers, and I believe is part of the Oathbreakers cd. I mentioned it briefly in Chapter One.
A/N (11/6/05): Anyone who wants to add more verses to "Herald Kali and the Sun-Priests," feel free. The more ridiculous, the better. Same goes for "Dirty Dancing." It's to the tune of Michael Longcor's song "Pennsic War," which probably none of y'all have ever heard of, but which is bloody hilarious. I'm going to have a chapter about it at one point.
A/N (11/10/05): I don't know when I'll get this chapter up, but once I do, I may not be updating for a while. The next chapter is slightly uninspired. Mostly I need stuff to happen while I'm pretending to be a bard. Any suggestions? Conditions: I can't beat anyone up until near the end of the chapter, no one in town knows I'm a Herald, and I'm on the trail of a murderer. Oh, and one more thing: the murderer still needs a motive. I have yet to figure out why he killed his victim. Major problem there.
A/N (11/11/05): Okay, the next chapter is more than just slightly uninspired. I've got full-blown Writer's Block. I need help! Please! Apparently my creative juices coagulated after that brilliant writing of Chapter 14. Even this chapter has its issues. The dream is entirely unconnected to the song… I just had to put in the dream. It should become important later on.
Nawyn: Damnit, your email got stripped. Try spacing it out more in your next review. Or something. Your comments make me feel warm and fuzzy inside. And as for the Sun-Priest, I think Jacoby's already hunted him down and killed him. But you're welcome to trample his dead body into the ground. And if he's still alive, I'm sure Jacoby has at least organized a hunt, and is looking for volunteers. As for me not recognizing Jacoby, well, I was raving in pain at the time.
Fireblade K'Chona: Captain. It's Captain Jack Sparrow. ;-) How he got to Karse so fast can be explained if you think back to my own little adventure with the burning building.
D2queen: Thankies for the review! It makes this poor author feel warm and fuzzy inside. I may not have material possessions, but I do have reviews.
Ah, to be back on Lake Evendim. Crystal water stretching as far as the eye could see. Blue skies and white clouds. Misty horizons. The captain at my side.
Heaven.
He wore a dapper outfit, a bright blue vest over a soiled white shirt, belted on by a new sash than the one he'd last worn. This one was black, a better match for his blue vest.
An image came into my mind of him wearing the blue vest with a red sash. Coming to my rescue.
"You. It was you I saw. You were real," I said accusingly. Then—"What the blazes were you doing in Karse?"
He looked abashed. "I, ah, felt that ye were in trouble. So that was real? The Sun-Priest an' the strange white horse? It really happened?"
"Yes, of course it did," I replied, puzzled. I felt an odd compulsion not to tell him that "the strange white horse" was really a Companion. "You saved my life, cliché as it sounds. I owe you a debt of gratitude."
"Ye owe me nothin'. Only—if ye ever get the chance, come to Evendim. I would love to meet ye when both of us are awake."
A Herald rode to Karse one day, a-looking for a fight;
For she had heard of evil there, and meant to set it right.
The Sun-Priests called on demons there, to rule their folk with fear.
Her goal it was to set this right, restore their freedom dear.
"What is this drivel?" I demanded, looking up from the sheet with the lyrics on it. From the looks of things, it was a parody of "The Leslac Version," and I was the butt of the joke.
Me, Rachel, and Stefany were gathered in my room in the palace, discussing all my most recent exploits, including my near-death experience. Jorjie wasn't there because she was still on Circuit with Corwin. I was mostly recovered from my ordeal, having spent several days in the intensive care section of Healers' Collegium. Besides the obvious, I'd drained my Gifts, and had a reaction-headache to rival the hangover I'd had after that party I threw. But now I was fine, thanks to Valdemar's best Healers.
Stefany had insisted upon dragging out the three songs that had already been written about me and showing me the lyrics. "Snow Magic" I already knew, but this one—"Herald Kali and the Sun-Priests"—and another, called "Dirty Dancing," were new to me. I wasn't paying much attention to them, though. My mind was on more important matters. Such as my pirate. He was real. A spirit, perhaps? A returning spirit, like the Companions or the leshy'a Kal'en'edrel? Whatever he was, I was only drawn to him in sleep. I couldn't feel a lifebond when I was awake, and I'd searched for one as soon as I woke and realized he was real.
Stefany had the decency to look sheepish. "It's about you." Well, yeah, I'd gathered that much. I was the only Herald who'd recently ridden to Karse, and it even mentioned my tangle with the bandits—unfortunately getting the information all wrong, and making me seem like a bloody hero. Lyrna wasn't mentioned at all. "A friend of mine wrote it, to the tune of one of the songs about Tarma and Kethry."
I snorted. "Well at least they got something right. I think I recognize the song, and it's entirely appropriate. This is pure nonsense!"
:And it doesn't once mention me: Lyrna added indignantly.
"Well, I don't give a bloody damn about the Karsite race,
And if you dare to dare me, I will say it to their face.
The truth is I had gone to warn our spies that they were found,
And not to dig up tyranny to trample to the ground."
Lyrna almost choked on her feed. :Really, Chosen, don't you think that's a bit much:
:Hell, in "The Leslac Version," Tarma keeps correcting Leslac about what happens. Why shouldn't I:
Stefany groaned. "This is why you should never teach the heroes how to write their own songs. Their version of events is always so much less heroic."
"That's 'cause our version is true." I continued reading.
The Herald searched through all the land to find their secret lair,
And then she rode most swiftly, to confront her foemen there.
She found one in a tavern, and she challenged him to fight,
For she knew that she was stronger, and would win, for she was right.
"Hell, when I saw that Sun-Priest, I fled into the night," I muttered, in tune to the song. Rachel laughed. I then continued singing my version of the events. I was having one of my rare creative streaks, when a song or poem would just come to me, as if it had already been written and I was simply remembering the lyrics.
"My mission done, I left the bar, a-planning to leave town.
But the Sun-Priest dared to follow me, and I had to bring him down.
He called upon his friends to aid, and so I tried to kill them too—
It wasn't what I wanted, but what I had to do."
Stefany rolled her eyes at my mutilation of the song.
The Herald left for Valdemar, her mission now complete.
For she had found the Sun-Priests, and had brought them to defeat.
But her task was far from over, she discovered when she found
The bandits on the border, hiding where they'd gone to ground.
Honestly, what was this? Some kind of tribute to the greatness of Herald Kali? Sure, I liked being well-known, but couldn't they have gotten the details right? I'd rather be known for having a sense of humor than be feared like Vanyel was. And what was this about defeating the Sun-Priests? I'd only killed three of them, for crying out loud, and there had been five—that left two angry Sun-Priests who were probably still howling for my blood.
"That wasn't all I'd meant to do, I'd another spy to tell,
For Sarabeth in Kornis had been compromised as well.
But now I couldn't warn her, to the Border had to flee,
For of the five Sun-Priests, I had struck down only three.
My dear Companion Lyrna saved me from my certain doom,
For she raced to the alley, though there was but little room;
I leapt aboard her back so I could ride her from the fray,
For had I stayed, I would be dead, and could not sing this day.
We fled as fast as e'er we could toward the border far,
And Lyrna ran just like the wind, and faster than a car.
We fled into the woods, a-running from the angry priests,
And Lyrna tripped upon a string positioned at her feet."
She'd found a group of bandits who upon the border preyed,
And therefore so to catch them, a most cunning trap she laid.
When the bandits thought her helpless, then she rose up so to strike,
And the villains never stood a chance of living through the night.
Yeah, right. I was the one who barely stood a chance of living much longer than it took them to rape me. It had been a mixture of luck and their own stupidity that had allowed me to survive.
"These bandits were most cunning, for they caught me as I fell,
And while I watched the birdies, they did truss me up right well.
'Twas only through an accident I managed to survive—
For they'd not searched my boots, wherein a pair of daggers hide."
I'll admit I killed the bandits, but I wasn't without aid,
For Lyrna was beside me, and 'twas quite a pair we made.
I swear, I've never in my life been wounded quite so bad,
And never have I ever been as nearly spitting mad."
In triumph back to Valdemar the Herald rode again,
For she had killed the bandits, and had cleaned them from their den.
There is not one among us who could match her glorious deeds,
A helper of the helpless, who gave aid to those in need.
"You know another of the Tarma and Kethry songs?" I asked rhetorically. "It's called 'A Curse Upon All Bards.' A curse upon all bards, another on their tongues, a double curse upon their songs, I swear. A triple curse upon this fool who chose to sing of us. If I ever catch that Leslac, I will skin him, then and there."
"You'll like this one, though," Stefany promised. "I wrote it. It's called 'Dirty Dancing.'"
With a resigned groan, I took the sheet of music. Whatever it was, it could be worse than "Herald Kali and the Sun-Priests." "Just promise me that if you ever play that song, include my little additions. Otherwise I'll have to strangle you."
I took one look at the lyrics of the new song and burst out laughing. Now here was a good song. Maybe not as professional as most, but freaking hilarious. What was even better, it was about the party I'd thrown right before leaving on circuit. My Wall had gone down in infamy. Yes!
Oh, one day at the Collegium when things were looking dim,
And the Trainees all wore faces that were somber, dark and grim,
One among their number, Trainee Kali was her name,
Decided to throw a party that would be her cause of fame.
And you can't have a party without dirty dancing,
Trainee Kali told us all upon that day;
No, you can't have a party without dirty dancing,
That's what our dear friend Kali had to say.
She'd taught us many songs and then she asked us for to play,
And when we asked her how, she said that we would find a way.
Five of them she'd written by herself for dancing bold,
And she bribed us with her promises of dancing and of gold.
'Cause you can't have a party without dirty dancing,
A lesson that we never will forget;
No, you can't have a party without dirty dancing,
And the music's playing even louder yet.
Oh, the Herald-Trainee cunningly had tricks all up her sleeve,
And she played them all upon us ere it was the time to leave;
First the drink American, or so the Trainee said—
And when we took a sip of it, we wished that we were dead.
Oh, you can't have a party without dirty dancing,
And pranks and tricks and nasty little traps.
No, you can't have a party without dirty dancing,
And there is no way to keep it under wraps.
She'd been plotting and a-planning now for many weeks on end,
With help from Bards and Blues and Grays she counted as her friends.
We thought her quite amusing, as she ordered up the beer,
And then she pulled the final trick and we turned and ran with fear.
But you can't have a party without dirty dancing,
And to do that you need more than just an ale.
No, you can't have a party without dirty dancing,
And a stronger drink you cannot find for sale.
She'd made her own distillery, and filled it full of booze,
And fruits and other random things she happened so to choose.
She waited as it settled and she mixed it up some more,
And then she sparked it off with what we'd never seen before.
'Cause you can't have a party without dirty dancing,
And drinks you make within your own backyard.
No, you can't have a party without dirty dancing,
And to make a drink it isn't all that hard.
The product hissed and spat at us and glowed an emerald green,
And the noises that it made at first were frankly quite obscene.
It giggled and it gargled and it bubbled blue and white,
And Kali poured us shots that kept us flying high all night.
You can't have a party without dirty dancing,
And a drink that turns your insides into flame.
No, you can't have a party without dirty dancing,
And none of us will ever be the same.
Herald-Trainee Kali taught us how to dance that day,
She jumped atop the wall and then she showed us all the way.
And when the night was finished, we were tired to our core,
But when the music stopped, they started begging us for more.
You can't have a party without dirty dancing,
And drinking hard just adds to all the fun.
No, you can't have a party without dirty dancing,
And if you want a teacher, then Kali is the one.
"You need something about the hangovers the next morning," I said when I was through reading it. "Something like, oh, 'We woke at noon the next day to a pounding in our head/The sun was shining bright, but we just wished that we were dead./And so we vowed that we would never drink her ale again/Last night might have been glorious, but it wasn't worth the pain./But you can't have a party without dirty dancing/Even if your head starts pounding like a drum./No, you can't have a party without dirty dancing/And Kali passing out the doctored rum.' And then say something about not remembering any of it. 'Some of us still can't recall just what occurred that night./Did we drink or did we dance or did we screw it all and fight/Our friends say, "Do not worry, for we had a grand old time,"/But I wish I could remember more than this pathetic rhyme./You can't have a party without dirty dancing/And Kali's Wall was surely such a one./No, you can't have a party without dirty dancing/Though damned if I remember all the fun.' Or something like that. Y'all can mutate the lyrics to please yourselves."
The brush made steady circles on Lyrna's coat, getting rid of weeks and weeks of travel dust. The grooms had, of course, tried to clean her, but it took a while to get that much grime out of a white coat. Besides, I liked to groom her. Especially now that I'd been made a full Herald, it seemed that we didn't have much time together unless we were both running for our lives, and covered in dirt. First thing I'd done when I got back, even before talking with my friends, had been to take a long, hot soak in my private bath, washing away what felt like a year's worth of dust and dirt.
:Ooh, right there, that feels good.: Lyrna sighed her pleasure and leaned into the brush-strokes. :We should do this more often.:
"You are such a pampered little princess, you know that, love?" However, I did oblige her by putting more muscle into the grooming. She deserved it. "I don't think I've ever told you how much you mean to me. Without you, I'd be a struggling bard. You're the real hero here, not me. I'm just a blundering idiot who manages to get herself into situations she can't get out of with any semblance of subtlety. It was you who got me away from those Sun-Priests. I'd have been dead meat otherwise. Those songs—they should have made more of a mention of you. Someday I'm going to write my own song, and you'll feature most prominently."
:Well, thanks, I suppose. Though I'm not sure I want to be in any song you write: she teased.
"Then I'll dedicate a song to you. There's a song from my homeland, called 'The Wind Beneath My Wings.' You are truly the wind beneath my wings."