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Chapter Three: The Singer
At dawn, Loren and I finally settled in a dark forest. We were sure the night-spirit had lost us. Now I wanted to know what a night-spirit was. Loren answered my question without me even asking it.
He told me that a night-spirit was a creature of evil, that it came to be through an evil king’s creations. This dark spirit haunted plains—such as the one we were camping in—and made meals out of humans. I shuddered when Loren finished his gloomy lesson.
“I should have known better than to camp near Iffrar,” Loren scolded himself.
“No. Nobody could have known a night-spirit would hunt for us, Loren,” I said, making myself comfortable on a mossy rock.
“Seraphina, I guess you’re right,” Loren said, but his mind was elsewhere. I didn’t ask for fear I would be considered prying.
The rest of the morning was devoted to catching up on our missed sleep earlier. It was a quiet morning, and the time for us to relax. I was still shaken up from our near encounter with the night-spirit and so was Loren. By the time the morning coolness was gone, we were packed again to continue on our journey.
Loren and I had already been traveling together for three nights, but our conversations hadn’t gone very far, excepting the night at the Pig Head. Even though Loren had explained to me why he wanted me to come with him—it was because he thought a girl like me shouldn’t be enslaved—I still knew there was something more to me accompanying Loren on his trips. Nonetheless, I was too uneasy to ask.
*
After a long tedious riding day, Loren and I reached the next kingdom, which was surprisingly only a five day ride from Iffrar. My eyes lit up with joy when I saw protective stone walls, going up past the highest turret of this kingdom’s castle.
“What kingdom is this, Loren?” I asked.
“This is Lorisol. Unlike Iffrar, it is very friendly,” Loren said. I sensed a small smile upon his face. “I have many friends here.”
We passed the kingdom gates at a relatively moderate gait, but I wished we would have gone faster. I hadn’t met any of Loren’s folk and I eagerly wanted to meet his friends. The entrance into Lorisol was grand and I watched everything as I passed. The guards were dressed in velvet green and yellow tunics and had a snooty appearance about them. We passed without a questioning.
“They know me well,” Loren stated when I asked why they weren’t hesitant about letting us through.
I observed with interest the kingdom of Lorisol. It was full of happy folk, dancing and laughing in the streets. It was like living in a dream. There were brightly coloured stalls positioned randomly down the streets and the whole kingdom was set up like a giant circle with a main street. A bunch of other miniscule streets fed off the most important one.
“We’re going to my friend Perstish. He’d be glad to house us for a few nights,” Loren commented as we turned down a side street. These streets were still occupied by rainbow kiosks, but much less than on the grand circular street.
Plain brown houses lined up in a stern formation made the street seem boring and unexciting. The windows were bland with no sign of life, but there was a feel about the street that made it seem lively and exuberant. Loren dismounted his horse at a house number thirty-eight and knocked lightly on the door. The door opened with a creak and a tall man—looking around our age—smiled gaily.
“Loren! Loren! How nice it is to see you!” Perstish waved Loren to come in, before realising I was even there. “Ah, and who is this dazzling lady?”
“This is Seraphina. I found her as a slave in Iffrar,” Loren introduced me.
“What an unfortunate kingdom. That king of theirs is ruining Iffrarian civilisation!” Perstish cried, taking our bundles and dropping them on the floor. “Come in and get comfortable. Only then may we talk.” Loren and I were beckoned to come further inside the house. I untied my small ratty cloak and hung it on a hook.
“Over here, Loren and Seraphina,” Perstish showed us into a quaint little living room where there was a tray of tea and odd-looking biscuits already set on a table. “I always have visitors.”
I settled on a crimson chair with a deep seat. It felt odd, but was extremely cosy.
“That chair came all the way from Grester. My brother, Welkas, brought it for me,” Perstish smirked, obviously wanting to show off.
“Grester, you say? That’s quite far. Now what was he doing in the south?” Loren asked, picking up a cup of filled tea from the silver tray. He seemed passionately curious. I looked at him queerly.
“Yes, yes, in Grester. He was visiting our cousin Anastasia,” Perstish spooned some sugar into Loren’s cup. Loren thanked him. “But I really want to know Seraphina’s story.” Perstish settle himself into a huge fat orange armchair and crossed his legs. He was ready for a story. Loren looked at me.
“When I think about it, I don’t know anything about Seraphina beside the fact that she was a slave in Iffrar only a few days ago!” Loren stared into my eyes with intrigue.
“Well, uh...” I stuttered, caught off guard.
“Yes, I know exactly how you feel!” cried Perstish. I looked at him, and a thought flitted through my mind: You do? “You don’t know where to begin!” Perstish hadn’t identified my thoughts.
“Y-yes, that’s quite right, Perstish,” I smiled weakly and Loren muted a snicker.
“Well, why don’t you start at the very beginning, when you were enslaved,” Loren’s friend caused the malicious thoughts I had stored away to be brought up again. I flinched as one thought flew in front of my eyes. Perstish didn’t notice but Loren now peered at me with great worry. I turned my head away from Loren’s.
“Good idea, Perstish,” I moved in my Grestian chair and then began my terrible tale. “I wasn’t even a slave until the age of twelve. Before then, King Lionel had ruled and my family was considered high nobility. I lived in a grand house—now used as a bar—and had many chambers to myself. There was another family living with us with a girl named Maria. She’s my age and we’re still good friends today.” My throat tightened with sadness when I remembered Maria, a great beauty living in such great repulsiveness. I continued my story.
“Our families were good friends with King Lionel and we were treated well. But when King Malville came into power, he destroyed the lives and hearts of many of the past king’s friends and family. He took our fathers and burned them at the stake; he took our mothers and forced them as slaves to his male courtiers. Then, he took the rest, we children, and the girls became slaves and the boys were broken as soldiers, filling their hearts with cruelty.”
“Then, one day, I saw Loren ride through Iffrar. I was inquisitive, as all us slaves were. All our life, nobody—except messengers—had passed into the kingdom. He stayed at the Pig Head Inn, where I was working that night as a waitress. Impolitely, I spied on him and his friend Wennemere. I don’t think they minded at all since they said I could continue listening if I promised to keep their conversation a secret. I didn’t, though.”
“Days after, Loren came in again, and I went to greet him. I was the only there. He invited me to travel with him, and I, surprised, said yes. I packed up and we stayed one night at the Pig Head Inn. I left Maria there, but I promised I would go back for her. Then, we arrived here.” At the end of my story, Perstish looked at me again with more understanding and I believe Loren was the same also.
“And, why Loren, did you bring her along?” Perstish now had moved on to other obvious questions.
“I think she is the Singer,” Loren glanced down at his hands, abashed.
“The Singer? Who’s that?” Perstish and I cried together.
Loren replied with a poem, his voice slightly musical:
There is one, unalike from our
Such beauty, in a place so dour
Her lightning hair and dark blue eyes
Signify the lady of melodic sighs
This is the Singer
Such beauty, in a place so dour
Her lightning hair and dark blue eyes
Signify the lady of melodic sighs
This is the Singer
Loren finished, and his look of peacefulness spread out to Perstish and I, producing a silence for a few moments. After the pleasing silence departed, I assailed Loren with questions.
“What is the Singer? What does the poem mean? How do I fit as this Singer? What?” My arms flailed with deep frustration. “And might I add that I can’t sing.” Loren laughed loudly at my last addendum.
“I wish you not to hesitate with questions, but I would like it better if you asked them one at a time, next occasion,” Loren bore a large smile.
“Excuse me, but I am very confused,” I replied, sipping my forgotten tea. It was cold.
“The answer to your first question is the most challenging to answer, for it requires quite a detailed response to fully understand who and what the Singer is,” Loren said. “We may be able to find a thing or two about the Singer in the Lorisol Archives.”
“Yes, I could inquire with the Head Archivist,” Perstish thought aloud.
“That would be magnificent, my friend! Not many kingdoms are receptive to revealing precious archives,” Loren commented.
“That is the problem. The Lorisols are very protective of their archives, and even more our Head Archivist,” Perstish said. His voice frowned in worry.
“I’m sure it will be fine,” Loren’s tone emitted the end of the discussion. He set his teacup down onto the tray and stood up. I followed suit.
“Leaving already, Loren? I thought you were going to stay the night!” Perstish cried. He seemed desperate for us to stay. Loren noticed.
“Do not fret, Perstish, we will, in fact, be staying the night, if you really don’t mind. I am going to take Seraphina to Ackador,” Loren said.
“Fine, fine, I will set your rooms up,” With a wave of his hand, Perstish had shooed us out of his humble dwelling and slammed the door behind. I startled from the noisy slam. Loren chuckled once again.
“Perstish has an erratic temper, and I suggest you be chary of what you say around that man,” Loren explained, and then we mounted the tied up horse.
We trotted out of the shadowy street and back onto the busy market. People came up to us, pulling on the talking reins, begging us to buy their wares. Every time, Loren or I would gently refuse and the salespeople would walk off in a huff.
Eventually, we reached a narrow yellow turreted building. It hovered over us like a light cloud, beckoning kindly for us to come in. Loren jumped off Didrick and this time I was able to get off without his help. A stable-hand came out and took Didrick away, who was nibbling his greasy hair.
“Now, be on your best behaviour, Ackador is the Lorisol king,” Loren said. I felt like a child, being told to be good. I took no heed to Loren’s order because he hadn’t yet answered my other questions. Loren understood my facial expression and my aura of persistence wrapped around his body like an itchy blanket.
“I know you’re upset that I didn’t answer all of your questions, but—”
“But you were lazy,” I folded my arms across my chest. I had snatched Loren’s words right out off his tongue. Loren fidgeted, but still held his head up proudly. Even so, his fidgets were a sign of reluctant surrender.
“I’m sorry, Seraphina,” This time Loren’s head dropped low.
“Laziness leads to nothing, and nothing leads to harm,” For once, I noted Beatrice’s often-used saying. Though she had meant ‘harm’ being a good beating.
My voice had become strong and powerful, and I sensed a deep, odd tingling inside me. Suddenly, Loren looked up from his yield. His eyes grew wide with fright, joy and amazement. I sensed no difference around me, but then I lifted a hand in front of my eyes. There was a sparkling golden light enveloping my hand, and then I realised it had already crept down my arm and was working its way up my neck.
“Wh-what’s happening?” I trembled with confused fright. I didn’t know if the light was good or bad.
“It’s the reaction of your Singing skills mixed with Wisdom skills,” Loren whispered, as if talking to himself.
“My what?”
“I’ll explain when we talk to Ackador. He’ll know more, too,” Then Loren grabbed my golden hand and dragged me through the yellow doors of the building. Or more like floated me through the doors.
