Tanyore and Amrahn: Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Clarris finished her solo with an echoing final chord. The people of Ilora, attending the yearly recital, clapped. Her piece had been wonderful. She had played the second movement from Arthoir's String Ensemble, all on guitar.

Ashira stood to one side, dressed in a fine green gown. She was nervous about her piece. She had chosen the third movement of her father's Wind Ensemble. It was a quick, lively piece. She had practiced for months trying to perfect it, and felt she knew it by heart. However, now that she was about to go on stage, it felt as though every note had fled from her mind. She took a deep breath trying to calm her nerves.

She watched Clarris walk off stage, gathered her courage, and started up the steps, flute in hand. She got to the front center and looked out over the clearing. It was filled with the people of Ilora, the village her father had founded when she was only a year old. People had moved from other villages in the woods, and they were now staring up at her. They all knew that the chief's daughter struggled with music, something that was unheard of in their society.

Ashira stood erect, held the flute up to her mouth, and took a few deep breaths. She closed her eyes and started playing, letting the first warbling note sound over the heads of the listeners. Certain that she was on the right pitch, she pushed on. Malimu, her maestro, had told her yesterday to just keep playing, no matter if she messed up.

Which she did. At forty seconds into the piece, she blew a little too hard, causing a shrill whistle to ring out instead of the pitch she wanted. Not faltering for a moment, she pressed on. The audience's faces were stoic, each person trying to show that they had not heard the error. Clarris stood off to one side, watching her friend and smiling encouragingly. She knew Ashira may need to see a friendly face in the crowd, and she was determined to be it.

As Ashira continued to play, her tempo wandered back and forth, not intentionally. She did not notice, but her audience did. Now some were frowning, dissatisfied that their chief's daughter could not keep tempo. This was the last performance before she received her talent, and she still played like a ten year old.

Finally, seven minutes later, Ashira finished the piece. There was a smattering of applause, and she bowed. She walked off stage to her left, keeping a straight face. Clarris met her at the bottom of the steps.

“You did great!” she said, grinning.

Ashira looked at her friend and shrugged, dropping her head.

“I played like I was ten years old. They could all tell,” she said, depressed.

Clarris took her into her arms and hugged her friend.

“Remember, everyone has a talent. You are good at music, really. You just might have a talent in something else.”

Ashira simply nodded and the two of them walked away from the crowd toward the trees. They could hear the clarinet behind them, the next soloist, sounding out an intricate arpeggio.

“Ashira!” came a voice from behind them. Malimu, their maestro, had detached himself from the crowd and followed. “Ashira, you did well.”

Ashira shook her head.

“You of all people know I messed up multiple times,” she said.

“That's why I wanted to talk to you,” he said.

Ashira felt her stomach sink. Surely he was about to tell her where she messed up and what to work on. He stopped a few feet away from her.

“I've been thinking that maybe you're a singer,” he stated.

“Singing?” she said, looking up. Singing was something people from Camena did, not people from Acustia. “But I'm Acustian, not Camenian. My talent must be with instruments.”

“Let's keep walking and we'll talk about it,” Malimu said. He started forward toward the village. Clarris and Ashira followed.

“What makes you think I can sing?” she asked him.

“Well, you can't play any of the wind or string instruments that we have here. I had you test out all of them last year, remember? The only one you did well at was the flute, and that was because you had prior practice with it.”

Ashira remembered the hours spent in Malimu's small hut, testing each instrument. She had tried everything from bagpipes to the cello to a trombone. Nothing clicked.

“So you think I may have a voice for singing?”

Malimu held up his hands and shrugged. “You could. I've never heard you sing. However, being from Kadencia, I wouldn't know much about singing. I only know about drums and instruments.”

Malimu hailed from the land far to the West, Kadencia. His complexion was darker than the Acustians, who had fair white skin. It was even darker than Camenians, who had olive skin and black hair.

“However, I do know somebody who could test you for it. The best vocal maestro in all Amrahn lives in Aetheris, the capital.”

Ashira stopped walking and looked at him in surprise.

“Aetheris? That's over two hundred kilometers away!”

Clarris decided to voice her thoughts. “You may just find you're good at it. It's not a bad idea, really. And, if you go to Aetheris, you could see the capital!”

Clarris and Ashira had spent many hours in the tops of the trees, looking out over the vast forest and wondering what the rest of the world was like. They had been taught about the other lands, and had heard stories, but hearing about them and actually seeing them in person were different.

Ashira conceded the point. “That's true. But what about my father? What will he think?”

Arthoir pondered her request, sitting at the table inside their small hut. Malimu and Clarris stood near the doorway, watching. Ashira stood calmly before her father, not daring to even breathe very loud. As she had walked toward the village, the thought of leaving had had more and more appeal.

Arthoir's thoughts were racing, evaluating the situation. He knew his daughter did not do as well at music as everyone else. He knew she felt like an outcast because of it. He also knew that she really didn't belong in this small village for the rest of her life. Fate had brought her into his life, and now perhaps he should give fate the opportunity to continue to guide her.

“Yes.”

Ashira's eyes went huge. She was stunned. Clarris screeched and clapped her hands together. Then she embraced Ashira in a hug.

Malimu simply nodded.

“You are old enough to take care of yourself for a while. However, I want you to find a group to travel with after Malimu leaves for Kadencia, understand? I don't want you traveling alone more than you must,” Arthoir said with some concern. “I would go, but as chief, I'm bound to the village.”

Ashira nodded mutely.

“Excellent. We'll set out next Monday, then, once I am packed and ready to go,” Malimu said. He smiled, bowed slightly to Arthoir, then left with the hut, his patterned yellow and red shawl gleaming slightly in the sunlight.

The days seemed to go by slowly. Ashira was so on edge she could hardly focus on preparing. Arthoir took it upon himself to pack many of the things she was overlooking, like a hairbrush and a canteen.

“I wonder what Camenians look like,” Clarris said. She and Ashira sat in the top of a tree, looking out over the forest one last time before she departed. “Do you think they are dark, like Malimu?”

“Not as dark. I've heard their skin is lighter than his, but as light as ours.”

Clarris nodded, looking north toward the mountains. The nearest peak stood about seventy kilometers away. Ashira noticed which was her friend was gazing and joined her.

“That's the direction of Aetheris,” Ashira said after a moment. “If the mountain wasn't there, it would be almost a straight journey.”

“Kind of makes you wish you could fly,” Clarris said dreamily. “Then you would have to walk over all the hills and through the trees.” She looked at Ashira. “It's going to be a long journey, you know. Probably a couple weeks with all the stops backtracking.”

Malimu had drawn a crude map of the path they would take to reach Barath. He had shown Ashira her path northward from there.

Ashira nodded.

“Yeah, probably. But I'll finally get out of this forest.”

“Think you'll be safe?” Clarris asked, worry crossing her face.

“I think so. Nobody knows I don't have magic.”

“But. . .,” Clarris hesitated, not sure she should say it. She pressed on anyway. “What about your hair? Nobody has blonde hair in Amrahn. You stick out.”

Ashira didn't take offense. On the contrary, she was glad her friend had pointed it out.

“You're right. Perhaps I should dye it before I leave?”

“Oh, but it's so beautiful. I've always loved its color,” Clarris said, wishing now that she had kept quiet.

“It will go away eventually. I think I better do it. Want to help?”

Clarris nodded, reluctant to hide something so lovely.

The day Ashira and Malimu were to set out, she was awakened by Arthoir gently nudging her.

“I've got everything ready near the door. We'll eat, then I've got a surprise. Get up,” he said, leaving the area that was her partition of the hut. She sat up and dressed, putting on her traveling tunic and boots.

The boots had been given her by Clarris's father, a leather-worker by trade. She packed her flute in the specially designed sheath at her waist. Had she been able to make magic with her music, this sheath would allow her to quickly grab her instrument and play. As it was, she was not yet seventeen. The relic of Acustia gave people their magic at that age, giving them plenty of time to perfect their talents.

But nobody had ever struggled as much as Ashira, and it worried her father as well as her instructor.

Breakfast was barley porridge, with honey and lemon juice. Ashira knew that lemons were a rare thing in this part of the forest, and so thanked her father for the delicious treat. There wasn't much said between them as they ate.

Arthoir cleaned up breakfast while Ashira checked her bag for everything she would need. They would be traveling with only the packs on their backs, and she did not want to be without something.

As she checked, she wondered what her father had to show her.

“Follow me,” he said, leading her out of the village and into the woods. She did so, keeping behind him a few paces. After ten minutes, they reached a small pool of still water.

“I want you to watch the surface of the water as I play this song,” he said, getting out his flute. Sitting cross-legged near the water, he closed his eyes. Ashira knelt beside him and looked at the water. “This song is my farewell to you, Ashira. I call it 'Sunlight Child.'”

He started to play, quietly at first. The tempo was moderate, not too fast. The melody was light, yet distant. Ashira was so entranced by the beauty of the song that she did not initially notice the change on the water's surface.

Images were forming. At first came a bright dawn over the woods. Then the surface shimmered and shifted. Now it showed a woman being chased by men and dogs through the forest. She carried a small blue bundle. The water glistened, and the scene changed. The bundle was now in the hollow of a tree, with a brown-haired man standing by and looking at it. Next came the image of the first woman, lying against the base of a tree. Her head was to one side, and it was obvious that she was dead.

Ashira felt tears going down her cheeks for the woman, though she did not know why.

The next scene was that of a village. It showed a sickly, brown-haired woman holding the small blue bundle. She was watching men near the edge of the huts, each of whom held various musical instruments. As Ashira watched, a wall of vegetation grew up around the village. Then she saw why. The men and dogs were outside the wall, blocked from gaining entrance.

Ashira understood that whatever the blue bundle was, it was important. One woman had died for it, and now men were trying to keep it away from the dogs and other men.

The image shifted back to that of the dawn. Then it blended into the face of an infant, surrounded by swaddling blue cloth, with bright blonde hair. Then it dissipated.

And then she fully understood.

Ashira sat back, the implication of what her father was showing her hitting home. Now she knew why she was blonde while everyone else had brown hair. Now she knew why she had to work so hard at music while it came so easily to her peers.

Now she knew that Arthoir was not her real father.

At that point, the music changed. Arthoir, his eyes now open, sensed that she understood. He switched and started playing music full of longing and pain, full of the loss of the woman, who was likely Ashira's mother.

Ashira sat in silence, contemplating, her head down. Arthoir completed the song and put his flute down, but did not speak. He knew he would have to tell her sometime, and this seemed the best way.

“I wonder if my father survived,” she finally said. Her face showed no emotion.

“I don't know,” Arthoir said quietly.

Another minute passed. Ashira looked up at him.

“Why did you wait?”

Arthoir hesitated. He had not wanted her to feel even more like an outcast. Now, in retrospect, he wondered if keeping this from her had not actually made things worse.

“I thought it would make you feel even more different than everyone else.”

She nodded slowly. It made sense. She wasn't sure how she would have taken and used the information. She wasn't sure what to do with it now, either.

“I wanted to show you before you went out into the world, so you would know if anything ever happens to me.”

She looked at him.

“Nothing will happen to you while I'm gone,” she said, sadness filling her chest. “You are my father, no matter if I wasn't born to you and Ilora.” The tears came readily. She stood, and he mimicked her. They embraced.

“You are my daughter. Ilora loved you just as much as I do now, even for the short while she was with us,” he said.

They released each other. Ashira wiped her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath.

They made their way back to the village in silence. Ashira was thinking about her life. Arthoir was thinking about his daughter's future.

Clarris was teary eyed.

“You come back, all right?” she said. Even when sad she was still her happy-go-lucky self. She hugged Ashira tight. They held each other for a few moments, then released.

“I'll be fine. I'll bring a gift back for you from Aetheris,” She said, smiling. She wiped a tear away, the turned to her father, who stood near the door to their small home.

He looked at her for a few seconds, then swept her into his arms.

“The world is a big place. Trust your instincts to keep you safe. Don't let emotion overrule your decisions. Be strong and have courage to do the right thing.”

Ashira held onto him, not wanting to let go. He had always been there for her. She had never been away from him that she could remember. Now she wouldn't see him for maybe a few months or more.

Arthoir finally released her. She backed away, head down, tears flowing. He took her shoulder. She looked up at his golden eyes. He looked right back into her bright emerald eyes.

“Come back to me. Fate brought you here, and now it's taking you away. But you are still in charge of your destiny.”

She nodded.

“I have a gift that I brought from Vitaela the last time I attended the Chiefs' Conference,” he said. He unbuckled his belt and handed her removed an ornate green sheath she had never seen before. “This is a dagger, made from Celfsteinian Steel,” he explained.

Ashira pulled it from the sheath and examined it. The hilt was red, contrasting beautifully with the green sheath.

“It's beautiful,” she said. “I hope I don't have to use it.”

“I hope not. But it's yours. I was planning on waiting until you turned seventeen, but now is just as good a time, since you're leaving.”

Ashira felt the tears just waiting to spill over.

“I love you,” she sobbed.

“And I love you. Now go.”

She turned away and walked to Malimu, who stood waiting by the edge of the village. They walked a few paces before Ashira turned around. She held up her hand in farewell to her father and her best friend. They stood near her hut, smiling, and waved back. She turned around again, this time determined not to turn around again, and followed Malimu into the woods.

As she walked away, she heard a flute playing from the village, the melody floating through and above the trees. It was her father, playing the song from that morning that he had composed just for her farewell.

Ashira closed her eyes and let the tears continue to flow.