Elizabeth Haydon - Destiny - Child of the Sky

Since summer or perhaps before, he had found himself without the need of slumber, passing his days and nights in a state of heightened awareness, the human body he inhabited tiring occasionally, but never succumbing fully to unconsciousness. Instead his mind was adrift during quiet moments in a sort of meditation, a hazy pattern of thoughts and dreams that took the place of both sleep and true wakefulness. He was, in a way, a virtual sleepwalker, ever watchful, waiting for the day when sleep would end altogether. And the nightmare would begin. It was almost time.

“I ’ad no idea you made flutes,” remarked Grunthor as he watched the dying fire in the midst of their camp at the edge of Tyrian. “You really are a man of ’idden talents, sir.” He looked into the darkness of the forest and guessed that at their usual pace they would arrive a day ahead of the coronation.

Achmed slowly turned a sharply tapered auger deeper into the long, lacquered instrument he had found in a brass-bound chest in Gwylliam’s treasure vault.

“I don’t like the idea of being unarmed. This flute is a gift for Rhapsody, an antique, I think. And if it isn’t one already, it’ll look like one when I’m finished with it.” His voice clicked in a rhythm to match the cuts he made.

Understanding came into Grunthor’s voice. “ ’Oo do you expect a problem from at the coronation?”

“No one. Anyone. The Lirin take their ‘no weapons’ rule very seriously. When I picked this up I felt it could serve as a staff, but I want to be ready in case of someone coming unannounced.” Grunthor nodded. “Though I expect the Lirin to guard her well, I want to be prepared in case there is a slipup.”

“What kind o’ darts do you plan to use in your ‘flute’?”

“The heavy ones. That’s why the inside needs to be grooved.”

“It’ll sound like hrekin .”

“She won’t care. It’s the thought that counts. Particularly if it keeps her alive.”

The travelers worked at their respective tasks for a long while, finishing some time after the fire ring had gone completely dark. Grunthor fed the horses a few paces away and blanketed them for the night, then moved to the protected area between Achmed’s watch position and the fire circle, preparing to go to sleep. He looked in the Firbolg king’s direction and could almost see him. “Is she gonna know about the flute’s other use?”

“No. And she won’t need to if you can get the darts out of the bodies before she sees them.” Achmed moved slightly lower down on the ground. “It’s important that she doesn’t. She’s come into her own now, and if she’s to win the life she wants then she has to feel she’s on her own.”

An annoyed sigh came from where Grunthor lay, and a low growl was distinct in the giant’s reply. “Oi ’ate deceivin’ ’er. You all live with such lies, I don’t know ’ow you stand yourselves.”

“All of us except you, my friend; I know. The problem with telling the truth about some things is it would mean telling it about everything. The lies are how we can stand ourselves. I almost hope you live long enough to see what I mean.”

Grunthor, long accustomed to the sound of the startling voice, was already asleep.

Rhapsody looked out the window of the balcony into the darkness of the courtyard. All day and far into the evening hours the preparations had been made, the trees of Tyrian’s forest garlanded with winter flowers and wind chimes.

A dais had been built in the courtyard, making use of the existing reviewing stands and positioned so that the guests of honor could walk easily past the newly coronated queen. The persistent hammering and sawing outside her window made Rhapsody think of the sound of gallows being built, an apt image, given that, more than anything, she felt like a prisoner about to be executed in the morning.

She opened the large windowed doors to let in the night air now that the sounds of construction had abated. The curtains snapped in the breeze as the wind blew in, filling her bedroom with the sweet scent of a warm winter night. The leaves of the engilder trees that formed the canopy of the bed rustled above her as she sat down on it disconsolately, wishing she were back in Elysian.

-

The curtains billowed again in the wind, and a cloaked figure stepped out of the shadows on the balcony and came into the room. Rhapsody looked up, startled at the breach of security. Then her face broke into a broad smile of relief, and she jumped from her bed and ran to meet the intruder.

“You came! I was hoping you would. I’m so glad to see you I can’t even begin to tell you.”

“Scaffold’s almost done,” Achmed said with a wry smile. “There’s still time to escape.”

“Don’t tempt me; I was hoping you would talk me out of making a break for it.” Rhapsody took his cloak and hung it in her closet.

“There are no more new worlds to run to,” Achmed said, helping himself to the decanter of brandy on the sideboard. He filled a heavy crystal glass.

Rhapsody shuddered. The memory of the Root was still strong, even all this time later. “I thought you were here to cheer me up.”

“Window’s open; we can go,” he said, dropping into one of the velvet wing chairs before the fire.

“So why are you getting comfortable?”

“Because it seems to me time to get comfortable.” Achmed looked at the fire; it was burning tentatively. “You have to pick a place to live eventually; this seems as good as any for you.”

Rhapsody sighed. “Wonderful. Now I’m being evicted from Elysian. Did you come all the way here to take my duchy back?”

“Of course not.” Achmed took a swallow. “You’ll need it now more than ever.”

Rhapsody went back to the window and closed the doors to the balcony. She turned and leaned against them, crossing her arms and regarding Achmed with a long look. “Why does this feel so strange? Is this a sign that it’s ill advised?”

“I’d be much more worried if it didn’t feel strange to you,” he said. “Your natural instincts would be clouded. If you are on edge that’s a good sign that you are going into this with your eyes open at least.”

She came over to his chair and bent down next to him, taking his chin and making him look at her. “Help me,” she said.

He stared at her unsympathetically. “You don’t need my help. You have everything under control. You have armies if you need protection. You have counselors if you need advice. You have a treasury if you need more clothes and baubles, though the gods only know why you would; you certainly depleted my coffers acquiring the ones you already have. What more help can I give you?”

“Tell me I’m doing the right thing.”

“No. You already know it. You’re not receiving a crown tomorrow; you already have it whirling above your head. If you want to cancel the ceremony, call it off. Nobody sees a problem here but you.”

“That’s it? That’s your best advice?”

He chuckled. “I gave you my best advice long ago: Tuck your chin; you’re going to get hurt, so expect it and be ready; you may as well see it coming. It applies to more than battle and tactics.”

Against her will, Rhapsody smiled. “I suppose. Can you stay?”

“A moment ago you were asking me why I was making myself comfortable.”

“That was because I was still hoping you would take me away with you.”

“You have to be the one to decide if you’re going to stay or go. I won’t do it for you.”

Rhapsody sighed again and walked back to the window. She stared out into the darkness of the courtyard, but could not make out the dais or the reviewing stand. She leaned her forehead against the coolness of the glass.