《Davram Who Sings》


 Prologue

    " Naar sang to Vitu and the world was born. "


    - The Book of Ria


    PROLOGUE


    A drop of water hit the sleek black floor and rolled away. Above the floor, a great sphere of water was suspended in the air. A warm light shined down onto the water. In the center of the sphere was a pale young girl, naked, and extremely pregnant. She seemed asleep with her eyes closed, rotating ever so slowly.


    On a rising balcony that overlooked the ball of water, two Sisters studied the young sleeping girl. One Sister was old, the other young. The old Sister had four parallel scars across her face, long healed and deep.


    "It will be soon," the older Sister said.


    The young girl twirled and twirled. Then blood bloomed around her. The pregnant girl was now in labor. Other attendants arrived, standing beside the water on the lower floor. The eldest Sister watched and waited.


    The pregnant girl gave birth quietly, and the baby seemed asleep as it emerged into the world. The umbilical chord still connected, the baby drifted to the mother''s arms and they clung to each other dreaming.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    "Let them rest a moment."


    All in witness waited. There was no rush. This would happen every seventeen years of their lives. For some it was their fourth or fifth. For the eldest, countless. This dead place was her life now. This ritual was all that mattered.


    She nodded. Three Sisters came carrying a long and sharp blade that was attached to a wooden pole, carefully extending it out into the sphere and gently cutting the chord between mother and daughter. Another cloud of dark blood. Neither reacted to the severing.


    The mother slowly let go of the baby, drifting downward. Her arms rose up as her body fell. Beneath the large sphere of water, ten Sisters waited with their arms stretched high, catching the mother in a soft cloth and laid her down. Still the mother slept.


    The eldest Sister studied the infant from afar. It slept peacefully in the center of the sphere. She went down the stairs to the mother below. The Sisters carried the mother in the cloth and followed as the eldest Sister walked outside through the tall doorway.


    They were atop a massive tower, stabbing out of the sick earth, black and thin and tall. Lightning struck down, and for a second illuminated the giant burnt trees, the land blasted and desolate, surrounded by jagged peaks splintering the gray clouds. The rain stung down upon them as they carried the mother to the edge.


    "Here is far enough."


    The ten Sisters lay down the mother, who was still asleep, and left the balcony. The remaining Sister walked to the mother.


    "Mother Miyr. The Daughter Miyr now dreams the dream, and it is time for you to wake up."


    The Sister slapped the mother across the face. The mother''s eyes fluttered open for a second.


    She slapped the mother again. And again.


    The mother lunged towards the Sister, hands clawing at the face. The Sister grabbed the mother''s thin arms with a great and honorable strength. The mother screamed and her eyes opened.


    They do not blink once they are open. The Sister always noticed this.


    "Miyr! Look upon the world! You are awake! This is the world! Look!"


    After the words were dealt, the Sister threw the mother down and walked away and the doorway closed behind her with a low thud.


    The sound of rain.


    Miyr looked out.


    No sun. Dark clouds and lightning. Smoking dead tree trunks. Beyond the mountains only a cold gray ocean until the horizon. Curling black smoke. No color, no life.


    The dream had ended.


    Miyr screamed and screamed and ran to the edge of the balcony and leapt, falling with the droplets of rain, screaming all the way down into a mountainous pile of human bones.


    Thousands and thousands of remains, all the same size, the same body, dying over and over again, so many times it cannot be counted.


    A miserable creature that could have once been a dog or a wolf came limping by, its ribs nearly protruding through its furless skin. It sniffed at the fresh body and lapped at the pool of blood. Half its tongue was black, its one eye red.

 Chapter One

    CHAPTER ONE


    The sun shone through the slits of the crude window and onto the floor, onto the old man with a great beard and yet dreaming. The light moved slowly and when it slid upon his eyelids they stirred open. The eyes behind them were clear and green. He laid there with a woolen blanket over his body, but no other bedding other than the aged wooden floor against his back.


    "Davram," he said.


    Another moment of silence passed before the old man sat up and folded his blanket. His name was Somei. Many called him the Sorceror of the Seventh Moon. Some called him the Seventh Gardener. To himself, he was Somei.


    Breakfast was broth and a slice of hard bread. Eating in silence, Somei passed gas and he chuckled between chewing the softened bread. It was all he could eat now with so little teeth. After eating, he went to his book and searched through the pages. The instructions came back to him and he closed the book and walked out.


    He walked slowly through the garden, humming and checking each flower and tree he passed. The sun was warm. Each living thing he touched seemed to sigh and grow, colors deepening, smells ripening. Grass sprouted under his bare feet as he walked.


    "You do well," he said to a magnolia, "As do you."


    An orange ripened and fell into his hand as he reached out. He smelled and peeled it, then sucked at the sweet juice. All was healthy and filled with life. All was well. He continued his walk through and out of the garden, leaving behind the orange seeds as they immediately took root and four leaflings burst through the earth.


    First would be the soil. It had to be rich, but soft. Good soil. He walked through the forest. A stag with immense antlers stood before him. Somei chuckled and walked to the stag. He gave the stag the orange peels, which it ate out of his hand. The stag''s droppings fell onto the forest floor then it walked off in search of other food.


    Somei walked through the forest and into a clearing where the grass grew to his chest. He walked to the center of the clearing and knelt down. His thick fingers dug into the soil and pulled out the grass by the roots. He touched the soil underneath. He rubbed it between his fingers, then dug into the soil again.Stolen story; please report.


    He grunted and stood up. Somei would walk back to the hut, get a bucket, walk back and fill the bucket with the soil, which he would slowly carry back to the hut. He cleared a long table of scrolls and seeds, then began to dump the soil onto the table.


    One bucket at a time, he spent forty nine days gathering the soil. Each day he would eat his breakfast, walk through the garden, eat an orange, walk through the forest, and carry bucket after bucket of earth back to his hut, then eat dinner, smoke his pipe by the fire and sing a song. Then he would sleep and dream and repeat.


    Once the soil was enough, he found the leaves of the sarat tree, the petals of a joni flower and the stalk of the birahnta mushroom, which was poisonous to ingest, though the cap could be used for a tea. He dried and ground down these things in a stone bowl. He tossed the mixed powder into the mound of now dried soil. He filled the bucket with water from the well in the garden, and poured it on the soil.


    His hands massaged the soil into a soft clay, and he began to shape it into the rough likeness of a man. The legs, the arms, the neck and head. He sand and added dashes of water as he worked. At night he would lay a rough white cloth over the clay and slept on the floor under his single woolen blanket.


    One morning, he was finished. He had the mud man on the table, its chest open. Somei looked at the heart he had fashioned. There was one last thing.


    Somei went into the garden and found the nest of a song bird. He took one small egg as the mother watched from another tree with worry.


    "Only one, my dear. Only one."


    He took the egg and went back into the hut. Plucking a single strand of his own gray beard, he carefully tied the hair around the egg. Then he placed it into the open chest of the mud man. It was his gift.


    He closed the chest and rubbed his hands together until they were warm and placed one hand on the heart and one hand on the forehead.


    The mud man took in a breath and began to live. His eyes opened and they were filled with confusion and fear. Somei spoke softly to his creation.


    "Ivishinai. The world knows of itself. It has many eyes and its many gazes all turn inwards to you. Ivishinai. It is as it is."


    The earth man blinked and stared at Somei.


    "I name you Davram. I made you, finding the right soil and molding you with my own hands. You are alive. Your name is Davram. I am your maker, Somei. You are Davram. I am Somei."


    "Somei."


    "Yes. You are Davram."


    "Davram."


    "Good. Ivishinai."


    "Ivi..."


    "Ivishinai. It is as it is."


    "Ivishinai."


    "Good, Davram. You please me."


    Somei laughed out loud, startling Davram for a moment, but he soon seemed to relax and look around.


    "I have a son. Ivishinai. I have a son."


    Somei''s laughter echoed through the green valley.

 Chapter Two

    CHAPTER TWO


    Davram listened as Somei spoke.


    "You must be kind to others."


    "I must be kind."


    Somei taught Davram of the garden. How to care for the living things. He taught him of the sun. How it gave life to everything.


    "You are a singer, Davram. You have the gift of singing. I know but one song to give you. For me it is simply a good song. With you, it will be different. Listen."


    Somei sang the song, learned from an elderly mage, drunk after a victorious battle. He had written the notes and words down.


    Davram listened carefully. Then he sang back the song. He seemed to burst with strength from within, his skin warm and alive. It was the sun. As he sang the song over and over, the power of the sun flowed through him and he drank it up.


    "You shall never starve as long as the sun shines in the sky. You will drink from it as a mighty oak would. This is the Song of the Sun."


    Davram sang and sang until he could no more. He stood there, filled to the brim with sunlight. Every morning he would step out and greet the morning with the leaves of the plants, drinking in the energy as they did. It seemed the garden enjoyed his Singing.


    On another day, Davram asked Somei.


    "I see things in my mind when I sleep which seem real but when I open my eyes none of it has happened and I am here with you."


    "Those are dreams. We gather our memories of the day and the memories of our past and they are jumbled together and shown back to us so that we may learn new things from their strange combinations. Sometimes you catch a glimpse of the future, of something which will happen much later. But it is rare. I saw you in such a rare dream and made you. Though I do not remember the details of the dream... Your name was whispered to me. Davram, a voice said. And so I have named you, and here we are conversing."


    "What is outside the garden?"


    "A forest of tall trees. A stream that becomes a river. Tall mountains. A sleepy valley I found so many years ago."


    "What is outside the valley?"


    "Villages and cities. Many people. So many. Kingdoms, large and small. Oceans. War and peace and war. Kindness. Wickedness."


    "What is wickedness?"


    "Knowing only of your own gain, uncaring of the suffering of others. Greed. Selfishness."


    "There are people like this?"


    "There are many. But there is much kindness as well. Good people. Going about their days caring for their kin and living with the world."If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    "As we do?"


    "As we do. Ivishinai."


    "Ivishinai."


    During the nights, as Somei warmed his feet against the cooking stove and smoked his pipe, he told Davram how the world was born through the Song of Naar.


    "Naar, a great serpent, sings across a vast void to Vitu, a mate. The Song is this world. The world is the Song. A dazzling jewel to impress a mate. It is still being sung, and will be sung for many ages to come, and as long as it is sung this world will live."


    "What will happen when the Song ends?"


    "Some say the world will end. Some say that Vitu shall sing back, and the world will continue. And some say that Vitu will not be impressed by the Song, and all things will be swallowed by darkness."


    "Where are Naar and Vitu?"


    "We cannot see them for we are within the Song. We are the Song. Can a song know its singer?"


    Davram thought about it and could find no answer.


    "Some questions have yet to be answered by any man. Some may never be."


    "There is so much to learn."


    Somei laughed.


    "I am glad you know this, Davram. There will always be much to learn. Always more. The world is thus a marvelous place. Ivishinai. It is as it is."


    "Ivishinai."


    A storm came upon them that night, the wind and rain beating against the window. Davram cowered from the thunder and lightning.


    "That is a great force coming down from the sky. Pent up and needing of release. Do not worry. We are safe here."


    "The sky is being split over and over."


    "Look, it mends itself. We are safe."


    Still Davram was frightened of the lightning and did not sleep until the storm had passed. The next day they found a giant tree felled by the lightning, its broken stump black and still smoldering.


    "The tree is hurt," Davram said.


    "It is. It is dying."


    "What is dying?"


    "It cannot live anymore. Its time has come and it will fall apart slowly and become part of the soil. Its life will be used as food by other things to come alive."


    Somei went to the broken trunk and put his hand on it. Small leaves burst through the bark, growing up and out. New saplings emerged from the ground, the dead tree rotting and crumbling, providing nutrients to the earth around.


    "It cannot live longer?"


    "It cannot."


    "Will I die?"


    "Yes. Some day. But the day is far away."


    "Ivishinai."


    "Yes. Ivishinai."


    "It is as it is."


    "Come now, we shall have a drink this night."


    "I drink water every night."


    "You have not drank this."


    The sun set and they sat cozy in the hut. Somei poured his precious acorn wine into two small wooden cups. He handed one to Davram.


    "Take small sips."


    Davram sipped at the wine. It was thick and rich, tasting of berries. He felt dizzy and laughed. Somei laughed as well.


    "The world is a funny place and it is good to laugh at it."


    "The world is spinning."


    "Oh yes it is."


    Somei took a large swig and filled his own cup.


    "Some day you shall meet beautiful women. There are so many out there."


    He laughed again.


    "They will also make you dizzy. With their smiles, with their smell, their skin."


    "Their skin?"


    "Their skin is soft. It is the best thing a man can touch. I would grow the most beautiful and fragrant flowers and woo great beauties with my charm. But there was one woman. She was special. Her name was Sita. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I married her. We even had a child."


    Somei stopped speaking.


    "Where are they now?" Davram asked.


    "Dead."


    "Like the tree."


    "Yes."


    "So that others around may grow."


    Somei drank his cup and poured again.


    "Such sorrow."


    "What is sorrow?"


    "The thought that you will never see someone again, knowing it, the knowledge caught in your mind forever. Nothing matters. It is emptiness and pain. It is unbearable. That is sorrow."


    He drank his cup, looking old and drunk.


    "But you are with me now, Davram."


    "Ivishinai."


    "Ivishinai. You please me, my boy."

 Chapter Three

    CHAPTER THREE


    The morning came and Somei opened his eyes. He called to Davram.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "I am right here."


    "I cannot see, Davram."


    "What can I do?"


    "Stay. Listen."


    "I am listening. I will not leave."


    "Take my book. You must see the world. Learn to read it. You will suffer on your way, but you will overcome. You are good. Ivishinai."


    "Ivishinai."


    "You must be kind to others. Never forget that."


    "I will never forget."


    Somei nodded and the green of his eyes grew darker and he was dead. Davram knelt before him all through the day and into the night, until the morning light crept through the window again. Then he rose and walked out of the hut, knowing sorrow for the first time.

 Chapter Four

    CHAPTER FOUR


    Davram stood at the center of the garden. Butterflies fluttered by, each a different color. The canopy above opened up where he stood and that was where he buried Somei. He had dug the earth with his hands. He had wrapped Somei in a rough white cloth. An acorn placed in his hands, surrounded by soil, so that the oak would grow through Somei''s body, and scatter more acorns across the ground. He watered the grave and closed his eyes and let the sunlight wash over him, humming the song of the sun. He could make the acorn wine. The recipe must be in the book.


    The book. It was leather bound, the pages thin pressed paper made of mashed leaves. Writing on the pages, on the cover, but he could not understand a single mark. He had to leave the garden, leave all that he knew and venture beyond the valley, to find someone who could read the book. But he could not.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    Davram tended to the garden. He woke. He ate. He walked among the flowers and the trees. They grew healthy and strong. He repeated what Somei had taught him. The thought of leaving the only place he had known terrorized him.


    More days came and went. Every morning he would wake up and stare at the book on the work desk for hours before tending the garden. He knew he was making little difference to the plants. They were so healthy to begin with, taken care of all their lives, they knew how to grow without him. The sunlight, the rain, they knew what to do.


    He sat at the stove. He lit Somei''s pipe and sucked in the smoke. Davram closed his eyes and sat there still for a long time. Then in the night, his eyes opened and he took the book and used it as a pillow.


    The next morning, he set out with the book in his hand. He walked out of the garden and into the forest. He passed the trees, into the clearing, crossing the stream. Up the mountains, slowly but surely he walked.


    Out of the valley and into the world he went.

 Chapter Five

    CHAPTER FIVE


    A road. Two lines through the grass, spaced evenly apart for a great distance. Davram walked down the road. The only sound was the wind against the tall grass. Clouds loomed to the east. Davram walked throughout the day. At night he camped and stared at the stars, wondering of his uncertain future.


    In the morning he sang the sun''s song and continued walking. Midday came and went and there was only the empty road. In the afternoon, he came to a stop when he heard a sound. It came from further down the road. A woman weeping.


    He stood there for a moment, then started towards the sound of the woman. Over the hill he walked and saw her.


    Long red hair billowed in the wind. Tears streamed down her face. She lay in the grass beside the road and took no notice of him.


    "Why do you weep?" Davram asked her.


    The woman ignored him and continued weeping. He did not know what to do so he kept on walking. At some point he came across a man. The man was face down in the grass, blood all around.


    Davram turned the man over. His eyes and mouth were open, staring up at the sky. Davram looked up at where the dead man was staring but saw only gray clouds. He looked back down at the dead man. There were holes in the man''s chest.


    "Ivishinai."


    The wind blew.


    "Who is this."


    A man''s voice from down the road. Davram saw two men walking towards him. The man in front had a sword out leaning against his shoulder, glittering in blood. He had a burn across the side of his face. The man behind had a leaf in his mouth, the end of which he had sharpened and used it now as a toothpick. They walked up to Davram.


    "Who are you?" the burnt man asked.


    "I am Davram."


    The man just stared at him.


    "This man is dead, like Somei."


    The burnt man looked at the dead man, then back at Davram.


    "Yes, he is. What are you holding there?"


    "This is Somei''s book. Can you read it?"


    Davram spread the book open. The toothpick man laughed.


    "He can''t read."


    "Nor can you."


    "None of us can read then. Especially him."


    The toothpick man pointed his leaf at the dead man and laughed again.


    "That''s why books are pricey," the burnt man said, "It''s only the rich who can read. They write their secrets in books. Give it over."


    Davram thought about this.


    "I must keep this book. I have promised Somei that I will read it some day. If I give it to you, I will not fulfill the promise."


    "Give it over or I''ll slice you through."


    A long silence. Then Davram ran into the grass beside the road. The two men followed, but they were slower than Davram.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    He ran and ran, then he turned and ran some more. He looked behind him and did not see the men. He stopped and sat below the grass so they would not see him.


    Davram waited.


    Soon, he heard the men''s footsteps crunching the grass.


    "I can''t run like that. Not anymore," the toothpick man said.


    "You lazy shit."


    "I''m not lazy. You''re the lazy one."


    "I sliced that other one, didn''t I?"


    "I had to shit."


    "Exactly."


    Davram was as still as he could be. A tiny round creature crawled from a blade of grass and onto his finger. It was red with black spots and he stared at it with horror. He did not know if the creature would kill him or not. As he stared at it, he began to hear something in the distance.


    He had never heard this sound. It was not a voice. An animal maybe, like a bird. Or a person. It was a beautiful high toned sound, dancing through a joyous and playful melody. It was intricate and precious.


    Davram stood and ran. The ladybird fluttered away. He ran and the two men shouted and followed. The music grew closer, until he was at a riverbed.


    A man sat on a log, a long tube in his mouth and fingers moving. He was playing the music. He stopped when he saw Davram, and smiled.


    "You run fast," he said with a laugh.


    "Two men come to kill me."


    "Why do they want to kill you?"


    "They want my book, and I cannot give it to them."


    "That''s not a thing to kill someone over. Let me talk to them. Maybe I can change their minds."


    The smiley man lay the flute against the log and walked out as the two men approached.


    "Are you trying to kill him for that book?" the smiley man asked.


    "I''ll kill you too."


    "I''ve done nothing."


    "You have things I want."


    "There''s no need to kill me. I might give them to you if you asked."


    "Will you give them to me?"


    "No."


    The smiley man lunged at the burnt man, both of them toppling to the ground. He wrestled the sword away and stabbed the burnt man in the neck. He stabbed again in the chest just to be sure. He was out of breath and looked up at the other man. The toothpick leaf fluttered down to the ground. The toothpick man pulled out a long dagger and charged, but the smiley man''s sword was longer, his arms stretching out and the sword pierced the other man''s belly.


    He took the dagger away easily, leaving the sword where it was sheathed in the gut, and cut the bandit''s throat. Blood poured down with a desperate gurgle and a thud. The smiley man went through their belongings, taking little things, but seemed disappointed in the end.


    "They were not good at bandit-ing, it seems."


    "They killed a man by the road," Davram said, "There was a woman weeping."


    "Take me there."


    Davram showed him the dead man. The woman had disappeared. Davram stared at the indent in the grass where she had been.


    "We''ll bury him," the man said.


    Together they buried the dead man, then the two bandits.


    "I''m called Slim Rowon," the man said as they walked back.


    "Why are you called that?"


    "I am slim, as you can see. And my name is Rowon."


    "I am Davram. I come from the valley beyond those mountains."


    Davram pointed to the high peaks decked with snow.


    "Davram. You''ve travelled far. Come have a drink and tell me your story."


    Slim Rowon invited Davram into his small tent, which fit the two just fine. He offered Davram a giant mug of beer. Davram sipped and began his story as Slim Rowon listened. He explained how Somei had created him from soil and water and other things.


    "You are Farah."


    "I am Davram."


    "Yes. That is your name. I talk about your people. The people of the earth. Created only by the gardeners. They are together called Farah. So you are also Farah. I have never met a Farah. It is very rare to find one."


    "I have never met a Slim Rowon."


    Slim Rowon laughed and nodded his head, smashing the beer mugs and gulping down the cool ale.


    "We shall be friends. Davram and Slim Rowon."


    "You are my first friend."


    "I have only been a first friend to two other people, and they are like brothers to me, though they are far from here, I think of them often and miss their company. You shall be like a brother to me, and I to you. Tell me more of your story."


    Davram told of how Somei had taught him the Song of the Sun and sang it. Slim Rowon listened with fascination.


    "You are a singer."


    "Yes. Somei made me so. He taught me the song."


    Slim Rowon played the song back perfectly on his flute. His eyes opened after he had played.


    "Wonderful. I never knew the sun like this. It is the giver of all life."


    He stared at Davram with wonder.


    "I have never met a singer. What a day this has become. Killing two men and burying three, then meeting a singer who is a Faram. My head is dizzy with excitement. I am also an artist."


    "What is an artist?"


    "You don''t know? Yet you sing."


    "I do not know."


    "Then I will you tell you all I know."


    Davram listened.


    "Naar sang to Vitu, and the world was born."

 Chapter Six

    CHAPTER SIX


    "The world is made of Song. The soil and the sky, the mountains and the rivers, the trees and stones, the bears, the deers, and all people are made of the Song. Some of us may add to the Song through the Art. The Art comes in many forms and through many people. I am a flutist. With my flute I can change the world. Listen and watch. This is the Song of the Snow."


    Slim Rowon played a slow melody on his flute. It seemed lonely but beautiful. The warmth of the tent sank away and Davram could see his breath fog in the air. Snowflakes began to fall inside the small tent.


    "I saw this at the top of the mountain. It was cold and turned to water when I touched it."


    "This is snow. It is water in a different form. It can become as hard as stone if cold enough. Even harder. This song has the power of cold. I learned it from my grandmother, who played a yuurgot. Watch this."


    He played the flute again, looking at his cup of beer. The song flowed forth. Davram saw the beer ice over. Slim Rowon stopped the song and cracked the thin ice with his knuckle and drank.


    "Cool and refreshing," he laughed, "You try now."


    Davram sang the song of snow. A great chill swept through the tent, the fire went out and icicles formed on Slim Rowon''s eyebrows and beard. The beers froze solid.


    "Stop! Stop! I''ll freeze to death!"


    Davram stopped singing and looked at Slim Rowon with surprise.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Your singing is powerful! Far greater than my flute. Wondrous!"


    Slim Rowon clapped him on the shoulder and began flinting the fire to get it going.


    "You do not know the song for fire?"


    "I know many songs but not the one for fire. Perhaps one day we shall find it, you and I. What a day that would be."


    The flint caught and Slim Rowon began melting his beer.


    "Do you know other songs?" Davram asked.


    "Here''s a good one. This is the Song of Little Avayada."


    Slim Rowon played a happy tune, skipping, swinging, alive. From the ground small circles began to grow and pop up. They were green and blue. A handful of small mushrooms. He picked them.


    "These are Little Avayada. Eating this much will give you spectacular visions."


    He ate them, chewing the mushrooms and drinking the ice cold beer.


    "You should not eat them yet. You are too young. I will tell you when to eat them when the time is right."


    "Ivishinai."


    "What is that?"


    "Ivishinai. It is as it is."


    "I don''t know the word. Ivishinai."


    "Somei taught me the word."


    "I know many tongues, but not that one."


    "What are tongues?"


    "This flap in your mouth. But also language. Different places have different people who use different words for the same things. I know fourteen languages from fourteen places, including my birth place. Fifteen if you count Brakan, but I am rough in its grammar."


    "You know many things."


    "I know very little, for the world is immense and there is always more to learn."


    "Ivishinai."


    "Ivishinai."


    "It is as it is."


    "Ivishinai. I like this word of yours. Its meaning makes me think of myself and the world. A good word."


    "Do you know more songs?"


    "I do, but let us go slow. These mushrooms will begin to work their magic soon and I will have to lie down. You may sleep anywhere, eat anything. Before the mushrooms come, I will teach you a song without power. It is still a good song. Listen."


    Slim Rowon played a gentle song. A song like a prairie, wide and green. Davram sang along, and he could feel the person who had written the song, how she had felt looking across her land. So long ago. Years upon years, and here he could feel her heart.


    Davram sang softly through the night as Slim Rowon laid back and let the mushrooms wash over him.

 Chapter Seven

    CHAPTER SEVEN


    They walked down the road side by side. The sun was shining. Slim Rowon sighed and smiled.


    "Such a beautiful day," he said, "The world is so wondrous. One day, I walk alone, the next, I walk with a companion and one who sings."


    He sang the song of the sun on his flute.


    "Glorious. Every time. The mushrooms told me a great many things. They spoke well of you, Davram."


    "What did they say?"


    "I can''t recall everything. I saw flowers, the colors new to me, with petals so numerous I could not count them all. They said that you are good. They said we would travel far and see many strange things."


    "Did they tell you where we should go?"


    "No. They do not deal in specifics. But I have been thinking about it. We should find someone who can read that book. And also find a map. I have searched for a map for years and there are no maps for sale, except for this one time. I happened upon a travelling hokey who had a map, but I could not afford his price and he would not budge. How''s a man to travel with no map? We shall find a map, Davram. We go eastward, to Myuria."


    "What is Myuria?"


    "A village of commerce. We will find someone there who can read these letters and find a map."


    "Is it far?"


    "It is fairly far. Five days, perhaps, six. Or seven. Maybe eight."


    They walked and sang. Slim Rowon taught him more songs without power. He called them songs of the folk. Davram saw and felt every singer who had written each song. Some with words, some just a melody repeated. Each was a wonderful creation.


    "There are so many."


    "A great many. As many songs as there are things to sing about. Songs of love. Songs of war. Songs of laughter. Songs of sorrow."


    "I know sorrow."


    "As do I. There is a beauty to such pain. I know of a great and sorrowful song. It is called the Stone Wall of Sweet Faron."


    Slim Rowon sang the song, not with his flute, but with his voice singing the words. A song about a woman and her lover, who would meet by the stone wall in the land of Faron. It ended with the woman alone at the wall, leaving her heart under a stone, hidden and still beating with the longing for her sweet love.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Davram listened.


    "That was wonderful," he said to Slim Rowon.


    "An ancient song. The land of Faron is no longer. Yet it lives on in this tune. A good song."


    "Ivishinai."


    "Ivishinai."


    They walked and slept under the stars each day. One night, Slim Rowon told Davram about his people.


    "My people are the R''ut. We are strong and good with our swords. My father made swords. They were the strongest and sharpest swords in the kingdom. He taught me how to use the blade. We live where the snow covers the ground six moons out of seven. My grandmother learned the song of snow from a penguin, in exchange for its life. She let it live and it sang that song for her. When she found my talent with the flute she taught me the song."


    "Your people are kind?"


    "Yes. My people are the kindest of all the world. And we are the fiercest warriors. We love the most, fight the most, and live the most."


    "Where are your people?"


    "They are in R''amat."


    "Is it far?"


    "It is very far. A year''s journey, though it has taken me four without a map. I need a map. Why is it so hard to find a map? I do not understand."


    "We will find a map."


    "Yes. Yes."


    One day as they walked Slim Rowon stopped.


    "Davram, wait."


    He stood before a tall lanky plant. A sour smell wafted from the plant.


    "Do you know what this is, Davram?"


    "No."


    "This is alberta. It is also called bertie, bertfleaf, bongos, and in some strange places it is called gordons."


    "This is a special plant?"


    "Yes. It is very special. You smoke it and you feel amazing. It was given to us by the great serpent. With this, food tastes better. Music is sweeter. Everything is funny. Here, we must gather all we can for our journey."


    Slim Rowon used his dagger to cut down the alberta stalks. He gathered a great bale.


    "There are several ways to smoke bertie. I will show you one way."


    He rubbed his hands all over the bertie plants. Soon his palms were black and sticky. He sniffed at his hands and smiled. Then he rubbed his palms together furiously. The black began to roll off into a dark doughy ball.


    "Look at this, Davram. This is good bertie."


    He pinched the bertie and put some into his pipe.


    "Let''s find us a nice tree and smoke."


    They found a big oak with ample shade. Davram carried the bail as Slim Rowon started a fire to light his pipe. When it was done, he breathed in the smoke deeply and handed the pipe to Davram. Davram inhaled the thick smoke. The world seemed to sigh and get more comfortable and he laughed. Slim Rowon started laughing as well and they laughed, passing the pipe back and forth.


    "My mouth is so dry," Davram said.


    Slim Rowon poured some beer and cooled it with a song. They drank it down thirstily.


    "This tastes so good," Davram said, "And the breeze under this tree."


    "Yes. Wasn''t I right?"


    "It is a special plant."


    "I wonder how many times I''ve farted in my life. It must be a great number."


    "Teach me another song."


    "I know a good song. You''ll like this."


    Slim Rowon took out his flute and played a fast little tune. A small rustling came and Davram saw a small brown mouse staring at them.


    "The song of the mouse," Slim Rowon whispered.


    The mouse stayed still until Davram began singing and it came closer.


    "It will do what you ask with some persuasion. They are useful in hunting, but you must beware of hawks in the sky."


    The mouse climbed up Davram''s leg and up to his head and listened to the song. The mouse stayed on his head as they passed the pipe again. Then it ran off.


    "Funny little things," Slim Rowon said.


    They drank and ate meat and cheese, then fell asleep against the mighty tree. Davram had a long dream full of faces he could not recognize. It was soon forgotten when he woke. They smoked and continued down the road, laughing and singing.

 Chapter Eight

    CHAPTER EIGHT


    Slim Rowon was shitting under a tree and Davram stood watch by the road.


    "Davram."


    "Yes."


    "You do not shit."


    "I have not felt the need. I do not eat food."


    "You drink water."


    "Yes."


    "Yet you do not piss."


    "Perhaps Farah do not need to."


    "A great convenience I envy."


    Slim Rowon wiped with a leaf.


    "Someone is coming," Davram said.


    Slim Rowon lifted his pants and walked to the road. Down the road was a woman on a two-legged animal. The animal trotted towards them and stopped a few feet away. It smelled horrendous.


    "What is that?" he asked.


    "It is a woman."


    "The animal."


    "It is a bowrk."


    "It smells terrible."


    "You get used to it."


    "Are you travellers?" the woman asked.


    "We are," Slim Rowon answered, "We are heading to Myuria. Are we headed the right way?"


    "No. You must turn north. That way."


    Slim Rowon turned to the north.


    "Are you sure?" he asked.


    "Of course I''m sure."


    "Do you have a map?"


    "No. Do I look like I could afford a map?"


    Slim Rowon stared at the woman.


    "You look like the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."


    The woman laughed.


    "The most beautiful you say?"


    "That''s what I say."


    "Tell me more."


    Slim Rowon grinned.


    "Your eyes light up the world. Your lips are as luscious as ripe grapes. I''m sure they are sweeter than anything."


    "You talk well."


    "I do many things well."


    Behind the smiling woman and down the road, a man and line of bowrks came walking. The man led the animals.


    "My husband arrives."


    Slim Rowon''s grin faded away as the husband walked up beside the wife.


    "Dear wife. Good day to you, gentlemen."


    "Good day to you," Davram said.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    "And a good day to you as well," Slim Rowon said.


    "They were asking directions," the wife said with a wicked smile.


    "North is Myuria?" Slim Rowon asked.


    "Yes. You have come too far east."


    "Very well. Come, Davram. North."


    They walked off the road and headed due north. The woman watched them on her bowrk, then trotted away with her husband. Slim Rowon was in a low mood, and so they stopped and smoked some bertie and continued on. He was in higher spirits after.


    "I am sure there will be a map in Myuria. How hard is it to make a map? Walk around and draw the shape of your travels. I could make a map."


    "You should make a map, Slim Rowon."


    "Maybe I should. And I will sell it for an enormous price. I would be a rich man."


    "I would trust your map."


    "Thank you, Davram. Yes. It would be the finest, most detailed map. Everyone would know Slim Rowon''s map."


    "When will you make this map?"


    "Tomorrow. Today is too much of a good day."


    They walked over several grassy hills and entered a forest. The sounds of insects and birds filled the air.


    "They are all singing," Davram said.


    "Yes. A chorus of the forest," Slim Rowon replied.


    They walked and listened. After walking for several hours, they suddenly came upon a small pond. In the center of the pond was a small ruined temple, and in the center of the temple was a small statue, its features weathered into obscurity. They stopped to drink water and smoke the pipe.


    "Yohoy," a voice called out.


    Davram and Slim Rowon saw the broken statue, which glowed with an eerie light.


    "Yohoy," Slim Rowon replied.


    "Solve this riddle and get a treat," the statue said.


    "And if we fail to solve the riddle?"


    "I take your body and you remain here in the stone."


    "What''s the treat?"


    "Your heart''s desire."


    "Let me think on it with my friend."


    "Think quick."


    "Shut your rump. You''ve got time a plenty. Some cursed murderer or such. Punished to be stone. You''ll wait if I say you''ll wait, statue demon."


    The statue seemed to tremble and glow brighter, then it dulled away and stayed silent.


    "Davram."


    Slim Rowon motioned Davram away from the pool and sat on a stone. Davram sat on the ground. Slim Rowon smoked his pipe and handed it to Davram.


    "I am good at riddles. Are you?" Slim Rowon asked and blew out smoke.


    "What are riddles?"


    "They are little puzzles made of words. He will ask a question that will not make sense, and we must find the answer. The answer is not always what you think it will be, so you must think differently in order to answer correctly."


    "I have never solved a riddle."


    "It is no worry. I will solve the riddle. My people are great riddlers."


    "What if you fail? Will he take your body?"


    "If he does, you must kill me immediately. I will give you my sword and dagger."


    "I cannot kill you, Slim Rowon."


    "You must. I will not have him take my body. We will find another body for me. Perhaps one that is taller."


    "You will steal someone''s body?"


    "A loan. I will find another body for him."


    "Where?"


    "Do not worry, Davram. These questions will not matter after I answer the riddle and attain my deepest desire."


    "What is your deepest desire?"


    "I cannot tell you. It is bad luck."


    "I''m sorry."


    "You didn''t know."


    Slim Rowon clapped Davram on the shoulder and they finished the pipe. They walked back to the statue.


    "Give us the riddle," Slim Rowon said.


    The statue glowed and laughed with delight.


    "The more you take, the more you leave behind."


    Slim Rowon thought deeply. He opened his mouth, then stopped, and closed it. He went back to thinking.


    "Think hard. You have but one chance," the statue said.


    "Then shut your fucking mouth."


    Slim Rowon pondered and pondered, repeating the riddle in his mind. The more you take, the more you leave behind. Sweat began to form on his forehead. He paced back and forth, muttering the riddle under his breath. The more you take, the more you leave behind. What do I take. What do I leave behind. What is it. What is it. What is it...


    "Footsteps," Davram answered.


    The statue was silent.


    "Yes," Slim Rowon said, "That is the answer. Yes! Give us that treat now!"


    The statue trembled. Then it dropped something onto the ground.


    "What''s that now?" Slim Rowon asked.


    "Two silver coins."


    "What about our deepest desires?"


    "You think some statue has the power to do that?"


    "I have to walk over there?"


    "That''s right."


    Slim Rowon sighed and waded over to the center of the pond. The water only came to his waist. He picked up the silver coins and put it in his purse. Then he walked up close to the statue.


    "I don''t like being cheated," Slim Rowon.


    "That is unfortunate."


    "For you."


    Slim Rowon lifted his foot and pushed the statue over. It rolled into the water. It screamed and glowed but it could do nothing.


    "I''ll kill you! I''ll get out of here and find you and slit your throats! I''ll cut your balls off! I swear! I curse you! I will have my revenge!"


    "Oh shut your whiny cunt you rotten creature. You lost."


    He ignored the statue''s screams and they walked away, Slim Rowon whistling a tune.


    They walked through the forest and came upon a meadow and continued north. After much walking, they climbed a tall hill and saw a village of sorts out in the distance. Thirty or so buildings, mostly shacks and stretched hides. There was a gate and a road that led through the village.


    "Is that Myuria?" Davram asked.


    Slim Rowon stared at the village for awhile. Then he answered.


    "No. That is not Myuria."

 Chapter Nine

    CHAPTER NINE


    "This is Tosk," the gate guard said under the rain, "You''ve come too far north. You should have kept heading east."


    Slim Rowon stared at the man, his eyes furious.


    "I knew it. I should have listened to my instincts. Blinded by some farm woman."


    "Where shall we go?" Davram asked.


    "You''ve got maps in this town?" Slim Rowon asked the guard.


    "Maps? Simon might know."


    "Who''s Simon?"


    "He''s the tavernkeep.


    "Which tavern?"


    "The One-Eyed Donkey."


    Slim Rowon stared at the guard, eyes blazing with fury.


    "And where is the tavern?"


    "Down the street."


    "On which side."


    The guard had to think about it for some time. He lifted his right hand ever so slightly, then his left hand.


    "The right side."


    "Let us through."


    "Right."


    The guard got out of their way and they walked into the village of Tosk, the rain pouring and mud halfway up their legs. They walked down the street, looking at the right side. As they walked, they passed a man lying in the street and unconscious. Then they heard a loud cheer to their left.


    It was the One-Eyed Donkey, the sign plainly on the left side of the street.


    "Idiot," Slim Rowon mumbled and they entered the tavern.


    The tavern was mostly empty. Three gamblers at a corner table, they the ones who had cheered. A man asleep at another table, face down in some kind of bowl. Slim Rowon and Davram went to a far table.


    A man with a lazy eye came through a door.


    "What''ll you have?" the man asked.


    "You Simon?" Slim Rowon asked in turn.


    "I am. Who told you my name?"


    "The dimwit guarding your gate."


    "That''s my son."


    Slim Rowon stared at Simon for a moment.


    "My apologies, sir," Slim Rowon finally said.


    "It''s fine. What will you be having."


    "Do you have a map?"


    "Maybe I do."


    "I could use a map. We''re travelling."


    "I might let it go."


    "Wondrous!"A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    "There''s a price."


    "Of course. There is always a price. What is your price?"


    "The Crown of Histhtu the Blood Prince."


    "We don''t have that."


    "I could tell you where it is."


    "Where is it?"


    "It is inside the main chamber of Harkon, the castle of the dead, also known as the Red Doom."


    "Give us some ale and let us ponder this quest."


    "Good."


    Simon went back to the steamy kitchen.


    "Should we go to the castle?" Davram asked.


    "Sounds like a cheery place, this castle of the dead."


    Simon came back with a pitcher of ale and two mugs, and some dried apple slices.


    "Have you decided?" Simon asked.


    "Not yet," Slim Rowon answered.


    "Tell me when you have."


    "I will."


    Simon left them and they drank the strong ale. It had hints of cherry and walnut, and was cool to the throat. They edged to the fire and dried their toes.


    One of the men at the gambling table turned and saw them.


    "Fancy a game, traveller?" he shouted from across the room.


    Slim Rowon looked over.


    "Which game?"


    "Zono."


    Slim Rowon scratched his chin and turned to Davram.


    "I am very skilled at zono. I may be able to multiply our fortune so that we may buy this map and not quest to some dark castle in the night and in the rain."


    "Yes. That sounds much easier. You should play."


    "I''m in," Slim Rowon said to the man and skipped over to the table, "I''ll start off with a silver, gentlemen."


    "A good bet from the start," one of the old gamblers croaked, "We got us a regular carp."


    "Lad is a player," the other gambler wheezed and laughed.


    Davram sat at the table, sipping the beer and singing the song of the sun, warming up.


    A giant soldier trudged in from the rain and grabbed the man sleeping at his table. The solder dragged the man out, the bowl falling to the floor. Davram saw that it was a woman, not a man. He stood up and followed out.


    Slim Rowon rolled seven fifteen sided dice. The men groaned as Slim Rowon won a fancy ring and a handful of copper coins. He moved his jade piece three steps and picked up the dice for another roll.


    Outside, the soldier dragged the woman through the mud to a cart with bars. It was empty.


    The woman''s eyes slowly opened and she struggled. The soldier slammed his fist into her face several times until she was unconscious again. Davram watched this as he caught up.


    "Stop," Davram said.


    The soldier stopped. Davram stopped. The soldier turned. He looked down at Davram. He let go of the woman, who sunk into the mud.


    "You should not hit her," Davram said.


    The soldier punched Davram with all his might and Davram saw a flash of white and some kind of explosion in his head, then he was in the mud, unable to breath. He tried to stand up but he had no strength in his arms. He struggled, then finally slid up. The rain washed some of the mud from his face and he opened his eyes. The soldier stood before him, cold eyes looking into him.


    Behind the soldier, the woman stood up and unsheathed the guard''s dagger and stabbed him in the base of the neck from behind. Then she stabbed him in the kidney two times in quick succession.


    Another soldier came running . The soldier pulled his sword and lunged at the woman. The woman ducked, then jumped up, planting the dagger in the soldier''s armpit. She knocked him down, then took his sword and drove it down into his right eye with all her weight on the blade.


    Slim Rowon came running out of the tavern. He came to Davram''s side.


    "What happened?" he asked Davram.


    "The two men were trying to put her on the wagon. She killed them. Did you win?"


    "No. I lost the silver and most of what I had, except for my flute and my sword."


    The woman left the dagger and sword where they were and stood up empty handed. Water rolled down the bridge of her noise. Her eyes were a deep black.


    She started walking towards Davram and Slim Rowon.


    "I wouldn''t try," Slim Rowon warned her, "I am the greatest sword of my la-"


    "Shut the fuck up," the woman said to Slim Rowon.


    "Your mouth is foul, woman."


    "My name is Marasoldig Va''arant of the Rolling Hills. You are a stupid little bitch boy."


    Slim Rowon drew his sword. She spat on the ground.


    "You are less than nothing and have no cock," she said to him.


    He swung the sword at her and she caught it in her mailed wrist. A quick jab to his throat. He dropped the sword and choked. His face became red. She picked up the sword and lazily laid the sharp edge on his shoulder.


    "You are no man. You are weaker than a tiny baby."


    "Please stop," Davram said, "Do not kill him."


    Marasoldig looked at Slim Rowon, still trying to gasp for air, and turned and walked away. She took his sword with her, as well as the other weapons the soldiers held on to. He did not care. Finally, a small amount of air seemed to reach his lungs. His face returned to normal, his breathing slow and deep.


    "Bitch," he said, his voice still raspy.


    "She beat you."


    He sat up. Davram helped him to his feet.


    "Yes. She did."


    "Do you know her?"


    "No. But she is some sort of soldier, or assassin. Without a master. I''ve seen others like her. Drinking, gambling, fighting. They are no good."


    "It is good that she left."


    "Yes. But she took my sword."


    "Should we go and get it back?"


    Slim Rowon thought about it.


    "Fuck the sword. It was cheap and ill-made."

 Chapter Ten

    CHAPTER TEN


    Davram and Slim Rowon dried out back in the tavern. They had no coin left for anything.


    Simon came over.


    "They cleaned me out," Slim Rowon said.


    "The offer still stands," Simon said.


    "We''ll do it. A good dinner and more ale and we leave in the morning. Point us the way."


    "Eat and drink on the house. Take a room up the stairs. I''ll wake you at dawn."


    "I''m coming as well," Marasoldig said, standing at the entrance, dripping from the rain.


    "Why should we take you?" Slim Rowon asked.


    "I could shove your own cheap sword up your asshole and break it off instead."This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    "Well. Welcome, then."


    "I want a chicken and beer. And a room my own," Marasoldig said and sat at their table.


    She tossed Slim Rowon''s sword on the floor. He picked it up.


    "You''re a soldier?" Slim Rowon asked.


    "I am a fighter," Marasoldig said.


    "Where did you learn to fight?"


    "Nowhere."


    After that they sat in silence until her chicken and beer came. Slim Rowon was served mutton and Davram drank the ale. Marasoldig stared at Davram as she ate. She wiped chicken grease from her chin.


    "Why did you help me?" she asked him.


    "It did not seem kind, what he was doing."


    "Kind?"


    "I must be kind. Somei said to me that I must never forget."


    She stared at him for awhile, chewing her food. Then she nodded and drank the entire mug of beer.


    "I will follow you until I am dead," she said to him.


    Slim Rowon froze with his mouth open.


    "Are you my friend, then?" Davram asked.


    She seemed to ponder this. Then she shook her head.


    "We are no friends. I am to serve. These are the rules."


    Davram blinked.


    "What are the rules?" he asked.


    "There are rules to the world which we must abide by."


    Marasoldig stood up and took the pitcher of beer up to her room and shut the door.


    "How fortune turns in a single day," Slim Rowon whispered, "Let''s be wary of her."


    "I trust her," Davram said with a smile.


    "You trust too easily, my friend."


    "Do I?"


    "She''s a stranger."


    "You were a stranger."


    "I am obviously trustworthy and honorable to any eye. It is a different case. Let us retire, Davram. Tomorrow will begin soon, and today has been long."


    They found an empty room with two beds and soon were asleep.

 Chapter Eleven

    CHAPTER ELEVEN


    The next morning they were woken by Simon and shuffled down for strong tea and bread, butter, and strange jam. Marasoldig was already done with two plates of eggs. Davram and Slim Rowon sat with her and drank their tea. The sun was not yet up.


    "Which way is the castle?" Slim Rowon asked Simon.


    "Follow the road north-east. Through a ravine. It is on a mountaintop. It is black, and looks ruined. There are evil things lurking there."


    "Right," Slim Rowon said. "How far?"


    "On foot, four days. At the least."


    "On bowrks?" Marasoldig asked.


    "By nightfall."


    "We don''t have bowrks," Slim Rowon said.


    "I do," Marasoldig replied and continued eating.


    "You look different, Marasoldig," Davram said.


    Slim Rowon studied her.


    "I cleaned myself last night."


    "Oh. That''s what it is," Slim Rowon said and looked at Davram. Both were still filthy with dried mud.


    "Yes. Meet me outside when you''re done eating," she said and pushed away her empty plate. She got up and went outside.


    Slim Rowon smoked some bertie, then ate a handful of mushrooms he had hidden in an inner pocket. They finished breakfast and departed the tavern with their bellies full.


    Marasoldig had hitched four bowrks to the empty prison cell wagon.


    "Where are the owners?" Slim Rowon asked.


    "I am the owner. Davram. You''ll sit with me. You, baby cock, you sit in the cage. I don''t have the keys so don''t let the door close and lock. If that happens, we will have to leave you behind."


    Davram sat up front and Slim Rowon sat in the cell. The wagon rumbled along, slogging through the mud. The bowrks stank, but Marasoldig controlled them with skill, pushing them through the land.


    The rain drizzled just enough to keep their clothes perpetually damp. Slim Rowon grumbled every time the cage door swung and hit his foot that he used as a door jam. He pulled out his pipe and his coalkeep, popping a little ember into the pipe and smoked more bertie.


    "Is that alberta?" Marasoldig asked, smelling the smoke.


    "You fancy a puff?" Slim Rowon asked.


    "Later."


    "Davram?"


    Davram took a big puff.


    "That''s my boy," Slim Rowon laughed.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    They rode on for awhile. Slim Rowon played a merry tune, contrary to the gloomy clouds and depressing rain.


    "Why did you pledge yourself to me?" Davram asked.


    "The rules of the world dictate my actions. It is one of the rules."


    "What is the rule?"


    "You saved my life. I owe you mine. A simple rule."


    "I did not save your life."


    "You called the soldier as he dragged me. It was enough time for me to kill him. If you had not, my head would be cut off and rolled in mud and pissed on by ugly men."


    "What did they want you for?" Slim Rowon asked from the back.


    "Gambling. Bribery. Theft. Kidnapping. Piracy. Murder."


    "Did you do these things?" Slim Rowon asked.


    "Yes," Marasoldig answered.


    "Splendid."


    "You must be kind to others," Davram said.


    "Kindness can be exploited. It is in no rule to be kind."


    "It is the only rule I know."


    Marasoldig stared at Davram, sitting huddled in his wretched clothes, a boy smiling at her. She turned back to the road ahead. They travelled through much of the day. Then, suddenly, there it was.


    A dark castle far up a sharp mountain. A massive black marble bridge connected the castle to the cliff high up. It was the only entrance into the castle.


    They took the wagon up a winding trappers trail, made for hunters and trappers, long before the land was cursed.


    They arrived at the colossal bridge, the bowrks heaving from the strain of pulling the wagon uphill. Marasoldig let them rest a moment.


    "This is a tainted place," Slim Rowon said.


    "Yes," Marasoldig said. "I will smoke that alberta now."


    "Sure thing."


    Slim Rowon filled the pipe and handed it to her. She smoked the entirety in two long breaths. She handed back the pipe. It seemed she held the smoke in for a minute or two. Then she let out a large billow.


    "This is good bertaleaf," she said.


    "We found it on our journey. We have much of it."


    She nodded. The three stared up at the looming black castle.


    "It is a stupid looking castle," Marasoldig said.


    "Seems alright to me," Slim Rowon said.


    "The Prince who built it was a depraved magician. He would eat children, kidnapping them from all corners of the world, to be brought here. They were fed and cleaned, made healthy, so that he could serve himself a dinner every night."


    Slim Rowon and Davram stared at her for a long time.


    "That''s... Wow. That''s a lot." Slim Rowon said.


    "His name was Histhtu, and he created a crown of gold, embedded with priceless diamonds, rubies, and sapphires. They say that there is some dark power to the crown."


    "This sounds far more expensive than a map. We''re going to have to charge Simon extra."


    "Look," Davram pointed to the far end of the bridge.


    "What do you see?" Slim Rowon asked, squinted.


    "There is a very large man. Sleeping. He is as big as an oak tree."


    "A giant. Does he have any weapons about? Clubs? Giant axes?"


    "I see a tree trunk in his hand."


    "Splendid."


    "I will slay the giant," Marasoldig said and got out of the wagon. She picked up a huge battle-axe from the side of the wagon.


    "Where in hell did you get that?" Slim Rowon asked.


    "There was another soldier that came later. I took it from him after I severed his head from his neck. It is a very finely made axe for such a stupid soldier. He must have looted it from a battlefield. It is in proper hands now. I shall walk up and kill the giant. Wait here until it is dead, then ride to me. If it kills me, return to the tavern or leave the land. You will not succeed without me."


    She walked away, heading down the bridge. Slim Rowon blew out some smoke.


    "What shall we do, Davram?" he asked.


    "She seems very skilled at killing."


    "Perhaps. I''ll step in if it seems she''s in danger."


    "That is very noble of you, Slim Rowon."


    "Thank you, Davram. It is just the way I am."


    "Ivishinai."


    "Exactly."


    Marasoldig walked the long, black bridge. It was made of large chunks of black marble. The spaces between the blocks so thin, there had to be some magic involved in its construction. She came to the giant, who slept against a large wooden door which was locked. It seemed around ten or eleven feet, large and muscular, brutish in face. It had but one eye in the center of its forehead. They were stupid creatures. But also extremely violent.


    Marasoldig picked up a large stone and threw it at the giant. The stone hit the giant in the head and it roared awake. It clutched its head and bellowed with fury. The giant grabbed the tree trunk and looked down the bridge. He saw Marasoldig standing there, holding the battle-axe with both hands.


    "YOU!" the giant yelled.


    "You stupid, slow, piece of shit. I''ve come to cut off your cock and balls."


    The giant roared and ran for her.

 Chapter Twelve

    CHAPTER TWELVE


    The giant swung the tree trunk down. Marasoldig lunged away. She stood and swung the battle-axe wide, its blade sunk into the giant''s wrist, slicing off a hand. It let go of the tree, but swung wildly with its other arm. The giant struck Marasoldig and she was flung back hard, slamming into a broken marble column. The air knocked out of her and she dropped the battle-axe. She tried to breathe, but could not.


    The giant gripped its stump and howled in pain. Dark blood sputtered every which way. It turned to Marasoldig and started for her.


    Marasoldig crawled to the axe, still trying to breathe. Just before she gripped the axe, the giant''s hand wrapped around her neck and she was lifted into the air. She glared down at the giant''s stupid eye. A blind rage. She accepted her end. At least she left fighting.


    A clear note rang out in the air. A fast little song, repeated again and again. She and the giant turned their heads.


    It was Slim Rowon on the wagon, Davram beside him. He played a wooden flute.


    From the ledge of the bridge a small gray mouse crawled out and stood before the giant. The giant gasped.


    Marasoldig fell to the ground as the giant let her go and began to back up to the door. Soon it was flat against the wood. The mouse stopped when Slim Rowon stopped playing the song.


    "Davram. Join me. Sing as loud as you want."


    Slim Rowon played the flute again, and Davram soon joined. His voice rang out loud across the ravine. They sang and sang. Marasoldig finally caught her breath. She joined the wagon, climbing up.


    "You are musicians. The arts," she said.


    "Yes," Slim Rowon said. "We told you."


    "You did not."


    "Oh. I thought we did. Well, I am a flutist, and Davram a singer. I taught him this song. Oh look! They come!"


    Slim Rowon pointed and laughed. From above, crawling out of the castle from every crack and window, down the cliff and to the bridge. A line of mice, thousands of them streaming down.


    The wave of mice rushed towards the giant. The giant saw this horror and screamed as the army of mice covered its body.


    And Davram sang.


    "Magic..." Marasoldig said.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    The giant, now covered in a moving coat of gray, tumbled back, falling over the edge with a river of mice for company.


    The giant tumbled down into a foggy unknown depth.


    Davram stopped singing and the silence was eerie. Slim Rowon was smoking his pipe.


    "Now that got my blood all boiling. Let us take a breather before this next leg. What do you say?"


    "We will rest,"¡¡Marasoldig said.


    Slim Rowon built a campfire a few feet from the wooden doors. The sun was soon setting.


    Marasoldig was bruised all over. Her neck and face were purple and blue.


    "Those colors look bad," Slim Rowon said.


    "I can fight. Nothing is broken. Night is soon. Let us sleep and enter in the daylight, when evil is weakest."


    "Sounds wise to me," Slim Rowon said.


    "Give me the pipe," she said and Slim Rowon gave it to her.


    She smoked it slowly.


    "I''ve got avayadas as well."


    "Little or big?"


    "Little."


    "Yes."


    He gave her a handful of dried caps which she ate down. She finished with Slim Rowon''s ale.


    The three laid around the fire, getting comfortable. Davram hummed the song of the sun, and with the fire, they became warm and dry. The miserable rain finally to an end as well.


    "You should have told me you knew the arts," Marasoldig said.


    "I thought we had. Must have slipped my mind." Slim Rowon blew out some smoke and handed the pipe to her. She took it and smoked.


    "Davram is also Farah," he said.


    "Farah," Marasoldig said. "A rare thing."


    "Yes. He is a child, though he looks like a young man. He is months old. Created by a gardener in a valley west of here."


    "I will protect him."


    "I saved your life as well. Will you follow me?"


    "No. I would slit my own throat if I had to follow a man as useless as you."


    "Enough with the insults. It was my song that brought that mouse."


    "How did you know the giant would stop?"


    "I''ve seen giants twice before. One larger, one a little smaller. My uncle speared one by catching a littler of mice and throwing them into the giant''s lair, and in its panic, we would run in and pierce its heart or brain. The second time I was accompanying a great hunter of our land, Ruthor Rarlgud. He had captured a bear and let it loose on the giant. It was a close match, but the bear finally tore out the giant''s throat and we scared it off with fires. Horrid things. Taking our livestock. Taking our people sometimes."


    Marasoldig stared at the fire for a bit. She passed the pipe back to Slim Rowon.


    "It was a good idea," she said.


    "Yes."


    Slim Rowon smoked then passed the pipe to Davram, who finished it.


    "You fight well and hard," Slim Rowon said.


    "I have been trained from birth to kill anything which stands in my way."


    "Trained by who?"


    "I cannot say."


    "Splendid. Davram, I will teach you the Song of Ani Vatra, a young maiden fair."


    He played the song on his flute, then sang the lyrics with his voice. A song about true love. An evil queen is defeated. Ani Vatra marries Vanya Ri, a prince of some other land. They live happily ever after and have nine children.


    "A grotesque story," Marasoldig said. "Make believe to soften your children. Life is suffering. Not your fanciful tale. Life is violence."


    "There can be happy endings," Slim Rowon said. "I will have a happy ending. I will win with gold in my pockets and a lady by my side."


    "We shall see."


    "Be more hopeful. We could use some good cheer."


    He chewed some mushrooms down and shut his eyes. Davram soon fell asleep.


    Marasoldig stayed up until the moon was over head, her eyes staring into the fire.


    She stared into the dancing flame and she thought about death.