Elizabeth Haydon - Prophecy - Child of Earth

“Power-mad arse-rag.”

“So they say. But he did save most of his people from certain death, brought them safely halfway around the world and built Canrif—”

“Now there’s an accomplishment. A fancy place with indoor plumbing that the Bolg don’t bother to use.”

“Stop interrupting. The Bolg overran it later. He and later Anwyn built an extraordinary civilization out of very little, and reigned in peace over an era of unprecedented advances until the night he hit her. That incident was called the Grievous Blow, because that single slap between the Lord and the Lady started the war that destroyed about a quarter of the population of the continent and much of the Cymrian civilization.”

“Definitely arse-rags,” Jo said resoundingly. “Is there anything you need me to do while you’re away?”

Rhapsody smiled. “Now that you mention it, yes. Would you keep an eye on my Firbolg grandchildren for me?” Jo made a face and a gagging sound, which her sister ignored. “And don’t forget your studies.”

“Sorry I asked,” Jo muttered.

“And look in on Elysian from time to time, will you? If the new plantings need water, give them a drink.”

Jo rolled her eyes. “You know I can’t find Elysian.” Rhapsody’s house, a tiny cottage situated on an island in an underground grotto, was virtually impossible to discern by anyone except Achmed or Grunthor. The four companions kept its secret deliberately.

“Get Grunthor to take you. Sorry these tasks seem so odious. What did you have in mind when you offered?”

Her pallid face lit up. “I can keep an eye on Daystar Clarion for you.”

Rhapsody laughed. “I’m taking my sword with me, Jo.” Jo had long been ***ted with the burning blade, watching the flames as though hypnotized.

When they were traveling overland, Rhapsody had kept the sword out at night til Jo had fallen asleep, the starlight that radiated from the blade comforting her in the dark.

“Oh.”

“After all, I might need it. You do want me to come back, don’t you?” Rhapsody said, patting Jo’s crestfallen face.

“Yes,” said Jo quickly; there was an unintended urgency in her voice. “If you leave me here alone among the Bolg I’ll hunt you down and kill you.”

The sky in the east had faded to a soft pink, with a ribbon of palest yellow touching the edge of the horizon below it. Rhapsody closed her eyes, feeling the coming of the sun. At the edge of her hearing she could feel a musical note sound softly, wafting on the wind; it was re , the second note of the scale. In the lore of Singers, re was the portent of a peaceful day, a day without incident.

Softly she began her morning aubade, the love song to the sun that her race, the Liringlas, sang to greet the daybreak. It was a song passed from mother to child, like the vespers that bade the sun Godspeed at the end of the day and welcomed the stars as they came forth in the twilight. To Rhapsody, the act of marking these ancient devotions was always a poignant one; it was the only way she had left of feeling close to the mother she missed more than anything else she had lost with the sinking of the Island.

Beside her she could feel Jo begin to tremble as she listened to the song, and Rhapsody took her hand. The primordial song of mother-to-daughter passage was especially poignant to her, too. Jo had never known her mother, having been abandoned to the streets as a child. Rhapsody took the girl into her arms as the song came to its end.

“She loved you, I know she did,” she whispered. She had been trying to convince Jo of it for a long time.

“Right,” Jo muttered sardonically.

“That was beautiful,” said Ashe. Both women jumped. As always, they had not seen him approach. Rhapsody colored in embarrassment, her face taking on the same hue as the edge of the predawn horizon.

“Thank you,” she said, turning hurriedly away. “Are you ready?”

“Yes. Achmed and Grunthor are right behind me. I assume they want to say goodbye.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back,” Rhapsody said, giving Jo one more hug. “If we pass through Sepulvarta, the holy city where the Patriarch lives, I’ll try to get you some more of those sweets you liked.”

“Thanks,” said Jo, wiping her eyes with her sleeve defensively. “Now hurry up and leave so I can get out of this fornicating wind; it’s stinging my eyes.” t-As Grunthor hugged her goodbye, Rhapsody struggled not to gasp, but her face was turning an unhealthy shade of red in the giant’s embrace. The panoramic vista of the Orlandan Plateau swam before her eyes, the crags of the Teeth tipping at a sickening angle. In her disconnected thoughts she wondered if this was something like being squeezed to death by a bear.

Finally Grunthor set her down, released her, and patted her shoulder awkwardly. Rhapsody looked up into the great gray-green face and smiled. The Bolg’s face was set in a nonchalant expression, but she could see the tightness of his massive jaw, and the faintest hint of glistening liquid at the corners of his amber eyes.

“Oi really wish you’d reconsider, Duchess,” he said solemnly.

Rhapsody shook her head. “We’ve been through this already at great length, Grunthor. I’ll be safe. I’ve haven’t had a single bad dream about this trip, and you know how rare that is.”

The giant folded his arms. “And just ’oo is gonna save you from the dreams you do ’ave on the road?” he demanded. “Last Oi knew, that was my job.”

The amused expression on the Singer’s face softened with his words. “Indeed, you’re the only one who’s ever been able to,” she said, running her hand along the enormous muscular arm. “I guess it’s just another small sacrifice I’ll have to make to keep the Bolg safe.”

Another thought occurred to her, and Rhapsody dug for a moment in her pack, finally pulling out a large seashell. “But I have this,” she said, smiling brightly. Grunthor chuckled. He had given it to her not long after they had emerged from the Root, a memento from a journey he and Achmed had made to the seacoast, searching for a way to get her back to Serendair after their long journey through the Earth’s belly.

His smile faded with the memory. When finally they had met up again, she had informed them that the Island was gone, swallowed by the sea more than a millennium before. At that moment, he had felt guilt for the first time in his life, knowing that he and Achmed had dragged her away from a home and a family she would now never see again. She slept sometimes with the shell covering her ear, attempting to use the noise of the crashing waves to drown out the torturous nightmares that left her thrashing and sobbing in despair.

“You know Oi’d take the worst of them dreams for you if Oi could, Yer Ladyship,” he said sincerely.

Rhapsody felt her throat tighten, and a sense of overwhelming loss tugged at the edges of her consciousness. “I know, I know you would,” she said, and hugged him again. Abruptly she pulled away, trying to regain her composure. A wicked twinkle came into her eye. “And believe me, if it was within my power, I’d give you the worst of them. Where’s Achmed? Ashe and I need to be going.”

A sudden lightheadedness washed over her, a sensation that time was expanding all around her. She had felt this way before, but where or when she s uncertain. Grunthor seemed to be feeling it, too; the amber eyes clouded er for a moment, then he blinked rapidly, and smiled.

“Don’t forget to say goodbye to ’Is Majesty,” he said merrily, pointing to the cloaked figure standing a little way off.

“Do I have to? Our last exchange was probably about as tender a goodbye as I’m ever going to get out of him. We almost came to blows.”