|
|
|
Chapter One
The white cloak whispered around the stranger’s shoulders as she glided in the shadows of the tall houses, towards the crowded town square bustling with activity and noise. The noon sun shone fully down, brightly illuminating everything in a piercing glow, and cast sharp lights from the glass windows of the dark, wooden buildings. Heat seeped up from the stone pavement, allowing a respite from the normally chilly air of early spring. Humans chattered loudly, filling the air with an inescapable murmur punctuated by the cries of vendors and the music and antics of players. The scents of breads, honeyed wheat, dark grains, tart lemon loaves, and heavily spiced cooking meats lay heavily in the atmosphere, fragranced also by the sweet aroma of freshly harvested flowers, pale violet irises and bright ghostflowers, that graced windowsills and doorways in anticipation of the season.
A quiet, cheerful strain danced tiredly from strings, fading into the overwhelming clamor of the midday business. The musician was unconcerned that no one seemed to hear his tune, and he continued to play, his eyes half-lidded. He sat in the shade, leaned against the wooden wall of a shop, absentmindedly listening to the excited, shrill voices of two women twittering over the wares of the jeweler nearby him. His fingers ran across the instrument, thoughtlessly plucking the bright notes with little care, as he watched the square with boredom, uninspired.
He observed the stranger without quite realizing it at first, as though his eye had been drawn unintentionally. The flash of white in the throng caught his eye as it passed again. The people in its wake stepped aside, and the murmuring hushed noticeably.
A flat note plucked from his fingers, and he looked down in surprise at the instrument, not having intended that at all. He glanced up again, watching the stranger walking in his direction from the far side of the square, all the while never impeded by traffic. Strangely unable to deter himself, he plucked the same flat note, and allowed the music to flow as he followed the white cloaked stranger’s progress. An uneasiness settled upon him as he listened to the chords of the song, for the music was unlike anything he ever played. Just as the tune disturbed him, he felt perturbed by the presence of the stranger, and the nearer she came, the more profound the song, and the stronger his disquiet. Powerless to restrain the urge, words began to spill unbidden from his lips – words that never before even crossed his mind.
“Ancient past, sacred world…”
His tongue felt dry, but still he could not halt his own voice.
“Fallen star and rising sun,
Long lost legends hither come…”
He took a shallow, shuddering breath, the feeling of unease rising like a tidal wave upon him.
“Remember what was once begun.”
His voice trembled as the last line tumbled out, and his fingers quivered lightly as they continued to play the foreboding melody. His eyes darted about, seeking out the stranger as she disappeared from view behind the bulk of a man passing directly in front of him. The song rose within his throat once again, and he breathed in deeply, allowing it to take its course rather than attempt to fight it.
“Beneath the hills in tremor wake,
Breaths of death living take,
Sun and moon and stars forsake,
Surface dark, the shadow lake.
Secrets whisper the wind and breeze,
Dark oaths shake the sturdy trees,
Forbidden hope may never be,
Guard the dreams of eternity.”
The melody rose and fell fluidly, an unsettling emotion in the ringing tones. He exhaled quietly, willing his nerves to be at ease, and watched his fingers in amazement as they played the chords. A flash of white from the corner of his eye caused his head to snap back up, and he froze, only his fingers continued to dance gently over the strings.
The eyes, darkened within the hood, glared back at him, wild, fierce, and as frightening as the maw of a depthless cavern. They were a blue of the horizon just before dawn, with flecks of jade like splintered stones, and powdered grey like a dark mist. Through her white hood, the sunlight outlined the lines of her proud, stern face, her strong, curving neck, and her full, downturned mouth. Her hair swept around her shoulders, falling by strands from the shadows of her cloak. The light turned the deep, earthen blonde locks into a mane of pure gold.
As he stared, he felt her displeasure like a heaviness on his head, lowering it, but he was still unable to tear his gaze from hers. He swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling the song building again, stronger than before, and his mouth tightened into a thin line. The stranger turned and slowly floated away, but left behind a commanding impression. The entire square seemed subdued. The musician, however, still plucked the chords, and words broke quietly from behind his lips.
“Light shines on gathered tears,
Lost emotions wounding fear,
A truth hidden, only one can hear,
The end of shadow is drawing near.”
*incomplete*
 Prancing Thunder · Tue Jun 30, 2009 @ 03:16am · 0 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|
