Fractured Melody

Fractured Melody

  By

  Christine Williamson

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  Copyright 2012 Christine Williamson

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  Table of Contents

  Fractured Melody

  About the Author

  Otherworks by Christine

  Sample Chapters from Katlyn Zinger and the Hornless Unicorn

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  Fractured Melody

  On the last day of the third world’s third age, a mountain appeared in the sky. It happened suddenly. No fanfares or light shows. No earthquakes preceding its arrival. One moment it was simply there, as if it had always been there. And none of Larkton’s inhabitants could remember witnessing its arrival.

  The morning preparations for the coming Midsummer’s feast slowly ground to a halt as the busy Elden looked up at the source of the shadow that’d fallen over their town. Children gasped in awe and dodged the worried arms of concerned parents as they raced to the docks for a better view. The shoreline was soon crowded with curious townsfolk.

  There was much pointing and murmuring as the mountain’s origin and purpose were debated. No one had ever seen its like before, and the Elden were quick to reassure their numerous Midsummer guests that this sort of thing didn’t happen often. Or ever, for that matter. The captain of the guard was sent for, and he went quickly to wake the town elders. One glance over the messenger’s shoulder had been enough to convince him their counsel was needed.

  Unseasonal silence fell over the crowded banks of Lake Rythimia. Closer inspection was revealing that the mass of earth and rock might not be a real mountain at all. Quick-thinking onlookers with the presence of mind to retrieve seeing glasses from their homes whispered stunned descriptions of intricate patterns and symbols carved into the exposed stone with astonishing craftsmanship. The seeing glasses circulated rapidly through the crowd, and when the first of the elders arrived at the docks, a collective consensus had been reached.

  The “mountain” had been made by someone.

  The elder accepted the seeing glass that was thrust into her hands and immediately affirmed the idea. The huge structure currently hovering a league or more above Rythimia’s glassy surface was obviously not natural, and was just as obviously magical in origin. It had to be. Nothing short of a powerful enchantment could wrest something that large from gravity’s influence, and no race that she knew currently possessed the advanced stone-shaping skills that were necessary to create the many twisting pillars and support arches that crisscrossed its massive underbelly.

  Troubled, the elder returned the seeing glass to its owner and sent the eager man to fetch Larkton’s Birdmaster. The eyes of hawks would provide a closer look than the limited, metal cylinders could supply, and his other pets might prove useful too.

  A few minutes later, all the elders were assembled and musing upon the structure’s identity with the captain of the guard. The last elder who’d arrived lived on top of a tall hill on the outskirts of town, and he claimed the mountain didn’t have a peak. From up high, he said, it resembled more of an upside down dome or pyramid. When pressed for further details, however, he admitted he was mostly guessing as to its true shape. A hazy, golden light had obscured most of its upper surface.

  These observations resulted in a flurry of arguments and theories, all of them unsubstantiated, and many outright ridiculous. Nearby townsfolk, seeing that the elders were as baffled as they were, joined the debate, and when the Birdmaster finally finished the long trek from the aviary to the lake, the excited chaos that greeted him was enough to turn him around and send him right back the way he’d come.

  He was not a social person.

  Fortunately for the elders, though unfortunately for the Birdmaster, the captain of the guard had suspected this would happen and was keeping an eye out for him. The Birdmaster was skillfully cornered before he could leave the docks and escorted back to the eager crowd. After a short shout and brief introduction from the captain, he was welcomed enthusiastically and instructed to send his birds to investigate the mysterious phenomenon that was still hanging patiently in the mid-morning sky.

  A hush fell quickly over the crowd as an open area was cleared around the uncomfortable Elden. He looked about at the retreating elders and expectant faces with trepidation, but the captain of the guard gave an encouraging nod and assured him he would not be disturbed. The Birdmaster, upon giving voice to a single, long-suffering sigh, lowered himself to the wooden boards of the dock and prepared his mind for the meditative state that allowed him to ply his trade.

  The now-silent townsfolk immediately shifted their focus to the eastern forest. They waited. A minute later their patience was rewarded by the appearance of a dark cloud of flapping wings as the inhabitants of the aviary took to the sky en masse to begin their scouting. The two-score flock of hawks and falcons broke apart as it gained altitude, then sped off to circle the floating structure. The birds shrank rapidly, and it became apparent to the awed onlookers that their strange visitor was both bigger and higher up than they’d originally guessed. The tiny specks eventually disappeared from view entirely and the Birdmaster once more became the center of attention.

  He was silent at first, setting up search patterns and suggesting points of interest. This didn’t take long, for the birds were curious about the strange invader, and the images they sent him flowed quickly and easily through their mental bonds. He spoke softly, drifting into a lighter trance as he relayed descriptions of what the birds were showing him. Then he raised his head, which was the signal that he was ready to be questioned.

  The elders gathered round, seating themselves at a respectful distance so as not to disturb his concentration.

  At first the Birdmaster’s information merely confirmed what they already knew. The mountain was large, impossibly so, and it was indeed made by someone. Its design was intricate and aesthetically pleasing to the eye, and its entire top was enclosed by a massive dome of golden light that obscured everything within. This was decidedly uninformative.

  “But the light feels… welcoming, somehow,” the Birdmaster added.

  The elders ‘hmm’ed. “Send a hawk in.”

  The Birdmaster was skeptical, but after dipping its wings into the warm glow without suffering any ill affects, an excited falcon took the plunge. Several others quickly followed, and the Birdmaster opened his eyes in surprise as he relayed the images he was receiving. The elders sat up straighter and listened with rapt attention while he described beautiful gardens and elegant statues and fountains. There were orchards of trees bearing strange fruits and massive flowerbeds, apparently well kept, which contained blossoms none of the birds had ever seen before.

  There was even a large pond of crystal clear water, teeming with silvery shapes that resembled, but did not move like, fish and other water creatures. And overlooking the pond’s northern bank was the balcony of what appeared to be a small palace of foreign design. The word palace didn’t feel right to the Birdmaster, but he couldn’t come up with a better word for the strange building. It was too big to be called a mansion, and it was too delicate to be called a castle, yet it didn’t feel like a place someone ruled out of. It seemed to him more like a personal dwelling of some sort, and he said as much.

  This excited the elders and everyone else who heard him to no end, and the Birdmaster was forced to shut his eyes again for fear of being distracted by the sudden barrage of questions. Thankfully, the captain of the guard soon brought things back under control, and as the noise dissipated, the Birdmaster breathed a sigh of relief.

  The elders resumed their questioning.

  They asked him to describe everything. From s
hapes of leaves to patterns in the carvings of benches and stairways. Nothing was beneath their notice, and everything they learned only increased their puzzlement and curiosity. They continued for hours and the Birdmaster doggedly carried on with his observations, but, when the smallest of the hawks finally started to complain of fatigue, he gave voice to the nagging worry that’d plagued him since he first saw the images of the strange dwelling.

  “There’s no one there,” he informed the elders.

  Silently he called the birds back to their homes. “It doesn’t make sense.” The area under the dome was easily large enough to hold an entire town, and the well-kept grounds spoke of many hours of loving care and maintenance, yet not once had the birds seen someone tending them. “It’s well-kept. It’s huge.” The fantastic dwelling was large enough to house a hundred people comfortably, and it possessed many hallways and rooms that, due to the delicate arches and soaring columns that supported their ornate rooftops, were barely enclosed at all. “Many parts of the building are basically open to the air, yet none of my birds caught even a glimpse of movement.” They’d seen nothing within the sprawling structure to suggest someone was living there.

  The Birdmaster shrugged, “It appears deserted.”

  The elders murmured in agreement and huddled together as they discussed Larkton’s next move. It was almost lunchtime now, and as they called for food to be brought to the docks, the Birdmaster took the opportunity to make his escape.

  He didn’t get far. A few seconds after he stood, it became apparent that he’d remained in contact with the flock for too long. The Birdmaster swayed dizzily, unused to the ground as his brain stubbornly insisted he was still flying, and the captain of the guard was once again obliged to come to his rescue. He cursed quietly as he was lowered back to the weathered planks, and he spent the next twenty minutes being forcibly restrained and ordered to consume an entire skin of water.

  The Birdmaster bore this treatment with ill gratitude, much to the crowd’s amusement, and when the captain disposed of the waterskin and started plying him with bits of fruit and cheese instead, his patience snapped. He brushed the food away and lurched to his feet, somehow managing to make it all the way to the dock’s edge before he lost his balance and was returned to his friend’s care.

  Once more seated on the dock, he seemed to resign himself to fate and focused his attention on consuming the proffered food and eavesdropping on the elders’ council.

  What he heard made the Birdmaster blanch in dismay and immediately make a third escape attempt. He would’ve been successful too, for the food had helped restore his equilibrium, except that the elders chose that moment to break council and announce their decision. Preparations for the Midsummer festivities would be resumed, and a diplomatic envoy would be sent to investigate the palace and its gardens. The Birdmaster had barely gotten two steps off the dock when he was corralled and led back to the elders.

  “Birdmaster, if you’d kindly prepare the riding griffons, please?”

  Rythimia’s crowded shoreline emptied as Larkton’s inhabitants and their guests returned to their tasks, and the Birdmaster silently cursed his luck. His sharp eyes scanned the departing crowd and a mirthless grin twisted his lips as he spotted a distinctive, swiftly departing back. He’d be damned if he was going to saddle five griffons by himself, and since the captain of the guard was also to be part of the delegation, it was only fair he provide some help with their mounts.

  Satisfied that his revenge would be both swift and sweet, the Birdmaster set off in pursuit, pushing rudely through the crowd in his haste to catch up. He smirked as he reached out to grab his target’s arm.

  The captain of the guard hated griffons. And the griffons knew it.