Fan Fiction ❯ Bard Risk ❯ One ( Chapter 1 )

The Bard Risk

By Nix Winter

Shared world with Xaijelic www.niejuno.net

The scent of burning skin, of hot iron, and of recent vomit took the edge of fancy off the affair for Jewls. Hot iron and vomit he'd smelled before. He was a bard, even if they hadn't given him his bard mark yet, and vomit was pretty common in taverns near the end of singing time. Branding was new to him. Screaming wasn't as new as he wished it was. It wasn't his turn yet though.

The bard hopefuls had gathered before dawn 3 score of youths and one woman with a hint of winter at her temples. With the dawn had come the bards, arrayed in garb finer than an apprentice could lay hands on, let alone wear without breaking laws meant to keep status lines clear. They encircled the half terrified gathering of masterless apprentices like hunting hawks around a flock of barn sparrows.

There were four ways out of the circle. As the bards had begun to hum, then to sing the Invocation of the Guide Master Jewls had thought about them all. It was said that those who fled had their voices and souls stolen by the circle of bards. Jewls hadn't believed that until he saw them. They looked like gods in silks and jewels that made princes look drab. For the first time Jewls understood sumptuary laws. Appearance was power, but he still did not believe that they beheaded those who displeased the Guild Master.

He was a sparrow compared to them. A 17 winter old storyteller, road walker with fire red hair and the same singing clothes he'd been wearing the last two years. The black leather pants were tight and they had patches of fading brown leather sewn over silver swans that he couldn't wear until he was a recognized bard. He'd spent his tea money on the first new shirt of his life.

It too was a little passed his station with snow white linen ruffles that lay on his shoulders, lacing loopholes darned in polished white wool and a black braided lace holding it closed. He wore copper wire earrings with blue glass beads braided into his hair. He looked like a road bard in singing clothes, not the caste-less wanderer he really was. That was over, as of today. He would leave with his Bard Mark, or he wasn't sure what he'd do. He wouldn't flee, this time, not even a flinch.

"Worried?" The girl next to him whispered.

He looked down, then went to one knee, which put him just below eye height for her. Even given that she was female, her size said she didn't have more than ten to twelve winters to her honor. "Not a bit," he lied. Smiling, he reached for her hand, "What is a fair maid such as yourself doing so far from your companion unicorn?"

She blushed, brushed the clean swept forest floor with a black slippered foot. The seams on the shoes had been redone, letting the quilted linen of the shoe out, but her foot still barely fit. An almost clean hand brushed back boy short brown hair, like it remembered there being more. "I'm no maid," she whispered, quieter.

The drama on the dais, the only way out of the circle, seemed distant and Jewls didn't know the Guild Master watched him covertly. "Nay, no one with their honor intact could name you less than a maid and a beauty. You will be a lady of bards, surely."

"You're a bard," she said, tugging her hand back. "I just got a pretty voice's all."

"I see," Jewls said, hands mimicking small birds, fingers drawn in, except for little fingers and thumbs. "Once there was a forest, a great forest with so many trees hardly anyone could find their way though. In the center of this forest," he said, hands still making the traditional story telling movement of birds, "There lived a great Master Bard. She was the Bard of Earth and she had a staff which could shake the ground and hair of silver and gold like lighting in the storm clouds."

The girl's eyes watched his 'birds' as they flew in figure eights and circles, tossed as if by a storm. "Well, she ain't here is she?"

"No," Jewls said, leaning close to tell a secret, "She's not, and it's a good thing because she doesn't much like blood sparrows."

Blood sparrow was a derogatory term for red headed peasant who didn't know his/her place and the girl seemed more inclined to listen to him, if he were a blood sparrow. "Is there a sparrow in this story?"

"Oh yes," he said, "But first there was a storm." His fingers flashed open, mimicking an explosion. "A very howling and tearing storm. Trees bent," he said, arms parallel showing how the tree fell over slowly, voice making a very authentic cracking sound. "The animals that lived in the forest ran every which way, but it was the birds which were in the most trouble! They could not go into pockets of safe ground, nor hide behind rocks. For their domain was the air, and the air spun them and swirled them until they didn't know which way was up. Feathers rained and the birds' songs were lost in their tears. Now the king of birds was a great brown hawk, fast and brilliant. He was wise behind what men are, let alone hawks and he knew, that all the bird stories and songs would be lost in the storm, unless he could find some bird to carry them safely."

"Why couldn't he do it himself," the girl asked, eyes narrowed.

"Because sometimes the way of escape is very small, and kings, even bird kings, must fight to protect until they have no way to fight any longer."

"What did he do?"

"He found a bird," Jewls said, hands moving towards the ground by his knee, as if his hands were puppet birds, one hiding behind his ankle, the other the great Hawk king coming around the other side. "Just a little bird, and it wasn't like the others that fought the storm. It was just a small little sparrow, but it had found shelter behind a rock. And he said to the little bird. 'Will you carry the song of our people, so that the songs of this forest will survive this storm?' Now the little bird was greatly surprised to find the king of birds talking to her!" The little bird hiding behind his hand backed away from Jewls' ankle. "'But why me? I'm just a worthless little brown bird?'"

The Hawk King glided up from behind Jewls' leg, around, "Because," Jewls said, "The one that survives is the bird that will sing the longest and you are a survivor."

She had leaned over, hands on her knees, and the little bird came to rest on one of her hands. "The trick to being a great bard is to be the bird that survives the storm to sing about it," Jewls said, smiling.

The girl rolled her eyes, but she was smiling too. "Songbirds survive too, and they eat a lot better than sparrows."

Jewls pressed his tongue to his teeth, shrugged, "That's true. But don't plan on being a sparrow when you can be a hawk."

"Do you really think I could?"

"You're here, aren't you? Think of all those that aren't," Jewls rose, winked at her, but she stood a little straighter.

There were only about ten applicants waiting now. The older woman had been barded. She knelt behind the Guild Master, who Jewls had trouble looking at, receiving her mark. Most of the applicants had been branded songbirds though. On the other side of the dais, there was a brazier set up with the branding irons. The songbird brand, Jewls could not believe this little girl next to him wanted that. Songbirds had two things, songs and sex, and they sold them both as often as they could. Songbirds either were taken in by a noble, kept like canaries, or they didn't live long. That really left three ways to die on the way out of the circle and only one way to live. Jewls looked towards the encircling bards, noted weapons held descreetly, considered running.

He hadn't been doing so badly on his own. Okay, so he had to avoid most of the bards out there already, and he didn't have much for coin, but there were towns that welcomed him and he wasn't going hungry. He had his freedom. With a songbird mark, some of the places he went would turn him away. Whores weren't popular in small villages, generally.

The girl he'd been talking to caught hold of his sleeve and he turned back to her.

"I'm Yaria. My mother was Isret. Who are you?"

"I'm Jewls," he said, knowing he'd heard that Bard name before, Isret. "Your mother was a bard?"

Yaria nodded. "She was my Master too."

From the dais, a male voice boomed, filling the clearing, "No."

He was tall, built like a knight, but nondescript nonetheless. Brown hair, but expensive clothes, dark blue shirt and new leather pants, thick soled boots. "No. Decide again."

The Guild Master, a cloud of diamonds that sparkled and long fluffy white feathers, white satin gown and overcoat, gold embroidered designed, as if he were a god not a mortal, the Guild Master raised an elegant pale hand, two fingers extended, like a sword, and made a circular motion.

Jewls hair stood on end, tingling like lightening just passed by. The two black leather armored bards, twin women moved from the Guild Master's side, a short sword in both hands. The man pulled his own dagger from within a flowing sleeve and backed away.

Metal hisses against metal when it's unsheathed. Metal against leather is worse, Jewls had always thought, as people with leather scabbards are more likely to actually have swords they use. The bards nearest them had both kinds, and started looking for escape paths. He took hold of Yaria's hand, holding tight, so they didn't get separated.

Coldly, Jewls thought the man wouldn't have made a good songbird anyway. 'Oh sure, happy to please,' then moments later, 'Sorry about your neck there.' Yeah, gods, wasn't the world screwed enough as it was?

The dark bards circled him like a pair of dark moons, waiting for an opening. He rotated with them. Bigger than both of them combined, he still had a grace that said bard training, but it was an ugly grace, like a rabid dog, crouching, waiting, enraged.

Jewls hated watching people die. Death scared him, if anything did, and watching it build up to an unavoidable ending on the dais, in front of the pure white Guild Master, his world felt like it hung on the edge of the map.

The only thing he hated more than watching other people die was volunteering to take their place. He wished that songs really were magic and that he could sing the man to sleep, but songs weren't magic.

A lunge from the man drove one of the dark bards back and the other took him from behind, her long dagger at his throat. Blood sprayed and for a moment, Jewls thought it was over, until the man reached behind him and grabbed the bard, his hand fit around her neck like a yoke and he jerked, throwing her from the dais, off onto the ground in front of the brazier. Sparks from it flew and the man watching the branding irons, turned a handle, obviously considering using one as a weapon.

Bleeding, but not enough to put him down quickly, the man turned, jumped from the dais into the group of waiting would be bards. They scattered, but Yaria ran right behind Jewls, who froze. He couldn't move and leave her exposed and in the two seconds it took for the man to notice them, he didn't have time to think up another solution.

Huge hands came towards him, fingers like claws. The man's eyes were more whites than anything. Jewls made the explosion gesture back at him, then dodged, hoping to draw his attention. Blood splattered over his precious new shirt as Jewls passed by. The man paused. Seconds became minutes and for a blink the man debated going after the girl or the red head bard. Maybe in his mind, Jewls, who looked more bard like than apprentice was a Bard. Jewls rushed back at him, shoving him towards the encircling bards, wishing maybe they'd do something, but at least it would keep him from the girl.

Hands against the man's shoulder, shoving, he had no defense and the man got his hands around Jewl's upper arms, hands going all the way around. He lifted the red head off the ground, shaking. "I am a bard! I am!" The man screamed, his voice gargling sounding with the damage to this throat.

Jewls kicked at his face, thin leather soles slipping in blood and last song. "Put me down!"

And that was what he got! The man threw him, then was on him, a fist like a sledge hammer descending against his face. "Fancy man! You think I'm not good enough! I'll show you!"

Blocking only got his arms bruised, but better than his face. He had to sing to get his bard mark, no singing, no mark of any kind. And so that's what he did, high pitched, perfect harmony, the song of angels. It was the last song for most people, a parting song, sung to ease the passing of a soul into the Summerland beyond.

The man snarled, hands around Jewls throat. "Stop! Stop! I'm not dying," the man cried. The hands weren't tight enough to completely strangle, and Jewls kept humming the song, like it might carry some magic to ease the pain in the man strangling him. "I don't want to die!"

A flash of white caught Jewls eyes and he looked back, rolling his eyes. A flash of silver arched over him, and he knew, put the parts together. The Guild Master had left the Dais, sword in hand. Not on top of me, Jewls prayed, don't let him die on top of me!

"Then don't!" he hissed, voice thinned by the hands around his throat. "Then don't! Stop fighting!"

Fingers loosened. Jewls lifted his head. The man, tears on his face nodded.

"Close your eyes, Bard-ling," the Guild Master said, voice gentle, smooth as milk and honey, deep as the ocean.

Jewls did. The Guild Master was as close as Jewls had ever imagined being to a god of any kind. Heat sprayed over him and he felt fingers slender and strong grab hold of his shirt, jerking him to his feet, and around. "Sing."

Jewls blinked, blood on his face, clinging to his eyelashes. Throat sore, he squawked the first time he opened his mouth. After wiping his face with his already ruined shirt, cleaning away his mouth, he sang, "There is life in the sky, freedom in the field, tell the sparrow they'll never have to die, for love is our shield, tell the sparrow they'll never cry, tell the sparrow they're free to fly, tell the sparrow they're free to fly, for love is the only shield, the only need." It was a love song, about peasants and about the love of the road, about living forever, and about the beauty of the sky.

His knees felt weak when he finished. The Guild Master's eyes were blue, so light blue they could have been silver almost, like the spring sky near the horizon, pale and cold, and so beautiful. Diamond eyes.

Jewls wanted to cry. He'd traveled stubbornly under his own guidance from the day his Master had died until this moment. Two other Bard Masters had rejected him, and this was the end of his walk. This beautiful creature, tall and pale, blond curls laying around a long elegant face, undisturbed by the blood flecks on his face, this great creature would save or damn him, and he'd sung his song for him. Bard, songbird, or corpse, no more waiting wanderer no matter which way.

"Who was your Master, Bard-ling," the demigod in white asked.

"Sanria of Ilstie, Guild Master," Jewls said, mouth made of ice, stomach on fire. "He wrote me a letter of introduction to the Master Bard of Earth, who had been his Master."

"Is that so," Erin said softly, fingers reaching out to brush escaped strands of long red hair from Jewls' face. "Do you know Johara? You remind me of him."

Jewls shook his head. "No, Guild Master, I don't know him."

"Give me your letter from Sanria, Bard-ling," he said, holding out his hand.

That was the last hard part. "I haven't got it anymore."

Those blue eyes closed slowly, held there, opened. "Without it, you understand the best I can do for you is a Songbird brand. The world is not covered by will alone, but by law. " "I had it. I had one from him. He wrote it while he was dying," Jewls studded, chewing his lip. "I swear. You can truth tell me. I had one."

"Had is not the same as have. Did any other Bards see your letter?"

Jewls winced. "The Master Bard of Earth burned it."

"Is that so," Erin said softly. "And did that not tell you that you should seek another path in life, Bard-ling?"

"I am a bard," he said, feeling like a ghost already. "I am bard."

"Yes, you are," Erin said sadly, "Without that letter, I can not bard mark you. I will allow you to chose, songbird brand or I will take your head."

Jewls looked down, eyes following the length of the bloody sword, taking in the already ruined new shirt, the betrayal of his shaking knees. He could not out run the Guild Master. He blinked and warm started down his face, twin lines of defiance. "I am a bard. There was no other path for me."

"Remember the little bird," Yaria said, taking hold of his hand, tugging. "He'll be a songbird, wouldn't you, Jewls?"

"No." Jewls squeezed her hand softly, then looked back to the beautiful and deadly Guild Master. "No. I am not a songbird. Give me until the next audience. I will bring you a letter from a bard."

Laughter came from the Guild Master. Jewls had expected the sound of tinkling crystal, but the sound was human, warm, amused. "Do you think I can create a new caste just for you, Bard-ling? I know what blood flows in your veins. Take the songbird brand and you will be my songbird, live in the Guild House of Arille with me. Stay here. There is no dishonor in what I offer you, Jewls."

Comfort, wealth, music, Jewls swallowed. To be the Guild Master's songbird. His fingers picked at the patch hiding his silver swans. "Give me only a month, I'll get you a letter in a month."

"Your master is dead, Bard-ling," the Guild Master said softly, his hand shifting it's grip over the sword, preparing it, "You can not sing him back from the beyond to re-write you a letter. No master bard will write one for you. Take my offer. You will teach my apprentices. You will be safe and some time I may be able to see that you are introduced to Johara."

"But I could no longer travel and I would never be a bard," Jewls said, aware that the tip of the sword had lifted from the ground. "If the Master Bard of Earth would write me a letter, if she would recant?"

Sword up, used as a pointer, the Guild Master turned to the bards encircling the group. "Was anyone there? Did anyone see the letter this man speaks of? Will anyone speak for him and the circumstances of his letter?"

Silence followed. The Bard of Earth was the oldest bard, almost as powerful as the Guild Master and of royal blood, from more than one Kingdom. Jewls thought she was an old selfish hag, but he was pretty sure no one would accept his opinion on that just then.

"Kneel for me Bard-ling, close your eyes, and you will cross to the land of Bards. There I can grant you access. There you will be beyond the laws and foolishness of mortals."

"No," Jewls said, voice trembling. He had things to do. He had places he hadn't seen yet. He hadn't fallen in love yet. He hadn't made love yet. He'd been saving that, guarding that like proof he'd really be able to show the world who he was first. His fingers pulled at the patch over one of his swans, tugging at it until it unraveled, coming free, revealing the herald of a Bard House that he had no rights at, that he broke the law just to wear. "Bards don't kneel when they die."

"Very well," Erin said, face grim. "At least turn, for I know your face and it is a face I would rather leave the world than strike. Do me the kindness of turning your back to me."

"Please," Jewls said, "Please, just give me a day more. Someone will speak for me."

"Turn."

Slowly, he turned, clenching the ruined patch in his hands.

"When I see Johara next, I will tell him of you," Erin said, "Or perhaps he will be waiting for you when you open your eyes on the other side."

"I wouldn't go. I'll haunt you."

There was that laughter again. "Go in peace, Jewls."

"No! Wait," a voice yelled.

Jewls ducked, rolling forward into a crouch, ready to run towards the circle of bards if the Guild Master so much as blinked.

The sword had swung through where Jewls' neck had been. Determination settled in Jewls right then, that never again, never again would he give his neck to anyone. He didn't care how beautiful or powerful the person was. He'd been spared and he was staying that way!

The older woman who had been in the hopefuls climbed back up on the dais. "I am Anice. And I came from the Master Bard of Earth. I was there."

Erin turned to her, pointing the sword at her. "You are as much bard as any other bard here. Speak. Did you see this bard-ling's letter?"

"I did," she said, shaking, hands clenched in fists at her sides. "I saw it."

"Did you read it?"

"Yes."

"Did the Master Bard of Earth burn it?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because Jewls refused to tell her where her granddaughter had gone. Her granddaughter is the Princess Ionwe, who was abducted four winters ago. Ionwe had chosen to return to her kingdom against her grandmother's wishes."

Ionwe was ruling her father's kingdom as regent now.

"Why did the Master Bard of Earth oppose this?"

The woman looked down, paused, then looked back up, "Because she has grown closer to passing over and she longed for her granddaughter's company."

"I see. Will you swear with your life to what you have said and write the story into the Guild History?"

To do so was to cross the Master Bard of Earth forever, to have an enemy that could bring down kingdoms. "I will."

Erin turned back towards Jewls. There was a missing bard as well as a missing red headed bard hopeful. The circle broken, Erin pressed the side of his hand to his head. "Get him back here!"

Both the dark bards were up and mounted now. It took them longer than Erin would have thought to bring back one kicking, struggling, nearly grown bard. He came back, wrists bound behind his neck, riding on a black horse with one of the dark bards riding behind him, her hand holding his belt firmly. He'd stopped trying to incite the horse to bolt when the woman holding him had cuffed him really hard with a hardened leather gauntlet to the back of the neck.

The dark bard poured him from her saddle into the arms of the Guild Master. "Was he injured?"

"Not half enough," the dark bard said, her lips swelling. She and her twin had been personal guards and enforcers for the Guild Master for nearly ten years. Catching Jewls had made them work. "I'm sure he's a thief."

Jewls moaned softly, body boneless in the Guild Master's arms. "Probably," he pronounced, "But he is also a Bard."

"Bard?" Jewls groaned. "Am a bard."

"Yes, yes," Erin said, carrying Jewls up onto the dais. "You are. Barding and luck seem to run in your family."

Jewls left the circle of those still waiting, too out of it to stand, but he was a bard. "Let me down."

"Um. You think so?" Erin put him on his feet, holding with one hand and unbound his wrists with the other. "I wonder who your mother was."

"Barrie," he said swaying, trying to get his balance from the spinning world. "Goddess of luck."

"That I can believe. Kneel."

"No," Jewls said, defiantly. "You can't have my head!"

"I don't want your head, you mouthy sparrow. I want to give you your barding name."

"My barding name," Jewls asked, dizzy, confused. "You're not going to, to behead me?"

"No, you were spoken for. Kneel."

The woman who'd spoken for Jewls moved to his side and held his arm, pressing on his shoulder. He dropped to both knees, looking up at the most beautiful man in the world, a man sculpted of ice and diamonds and song embodied.

In a booming voice, echoing in the clearing, harmonizing with the slight breeze that picked up as he spoke, "You are Jewls, Jewls the Lucky."

Still seeing double, he pointed to Yaria. "Can I take her as my apprentice?

"No. You have to wear the bard mark for ten winters before you can take an apprentice," Erin leaned forward, caught hold of Jewls chin, looked into his eyes. "Don't worry about her. She will be fine. You look so like him. Don't ever do anything to make me lift a sword against you, Jewls the Lucky. A Guild Master's heart can break as well as any mortal's."

When Erin released him, Jewls would have fallen over if the woman had not held him up. "Get him into some clean clothes, keep him awake. And who's next," he asked.

Somewhere out there, waiting for him on the road were more stories, more adventures, and a love. After all, he was Jewls the Lucky.

There will be more of these stories.