A Bard's Tale

He stood up and looked over the hushed crowd. A bard by nature but a very frivolous young man all the same, full of indulgence and endearing qualities that made him perfect as a performer of stories and legends.

The crowd stared at him and he waited a second more before beginning his story…

He was a Master of Fire, he was the best of their kingdom and could make fire fly in every direction with full control and look as though he was doing nothing more than smiling. A man with power to be reckoned with and a man that could light the world with his magic, for all that he could do, there was one small issue with his temper.

As with most fiery controllers, he had an anger that could destroy entire cities, and to most people this danger made them worth fearing more than knowing. They were not shunned, but his people were treated with a wariness that hurt many a man’s pride. He was not excluded and perhaps he was feared more than any other, for where he walked, people hid and cowered, unwilling to challenge a man of such power and wealth.

She was a Water Goddess, trained in the ways of water; she could drown three men with nothing but a twirl of her finger and could probably simply allow the sea to swallow an entire village with nothing but a nod of her head. She was feared by the villagers, some say more so than the man, but many say that they were equals even then.

The Fire Masters and Water Goddesses never openly shunned each other, but fire was not made to mix with water and thus they never crossed each other. But she had a secret of great worth, she did not dislike her home of water magic but she chose to walk as a commoner, ignorant of the wealth that she owned back home.

It was in one of the many trips she made into the village as a commoner that she met him. Her first opinion was simple, he was arrogant, ignorant and even more so, probably a player. In short, she did not like him at all, but a second glance made her note that despite his shortfalls as a man of little care, he was definitely an Adonis gliding this world. He had the sculpted muscles, the piercing eyes, and he had probably had every single woman that had offered herself to him. That would probably have meant every single woman in the village and even the random travellers and adventurers that ran through occasionally.

She chose to ignore him at that point, if for no other reason than because his half nakedness was starting to make her flushed. He on the other hand barely took note of him, preferring to walk through the streets as a self-proclaimed gift to everyone that lay eyes on him. But his mind was troubled and his heart was heavy despite the mask that he wore. His father had made an ultimatum and one he had to meet within the next few weeks before his day of birth.

It was simple and yet for him he did not like the idea at all. He needed a wife. He knew that any woman would probably drop to their knees before him but therein lay his problem. He disliked the women simply because they were so easy, a common flaw in many men that had all that they could possibly want presented on a platter.

As an audience I’m sure you know what happened. When he saw a woman that was not ogling him, in fact she was quite determined to ignore him; he was enraptured and instantly sought her company. His first words to her were unrefined, though they were more from her lack of caring than from his lack of trying and it was in her annoyance that bid his anger to rise.

At first she felt like she was burning from inside out but a quick spell remedied that and he seemed surprised. He had however, bid her ire to rise and thus he was instantly doused in freezing cold water, water that chilled him to the core as soon as it hit his naked flesh. With a wry smile she whispered an incantation that made the water freeze and he was of solid ice before her.

He smiled, loving the challenge that she poised and watched her walk down the street and turn a corner before melting the ice and going home, happiness making him forget all the troubles that awaited him there.

The bard paused taking a drink of water and allowing some of the new listeners be filled in with some of the storyline. His eyes strayed towards the back of the room where a hooded figure stood. Wary but not alarmed, the bard continued, his face trained to remove any fear or worry he felt at the presence of someone that radiated power.

The story from there is tedious and as expected. He wooed her, she played hard to get, but eventually love wins everything and they were together every day as much as possible. Typically their parents disliked this and frowned upon them so they left, moving deep into the forest to escape the need to explain their relationship constantly.

Some say that it was their isolation that led to their destruction, others say that it was their love that ultimately led to the slaughter that occurred, but whichever way it was, he was captured one day whilst he was busy finding food or perhaps even chopping firewood. The ways are differed from tale to tale, but he was captured none the less and was tortured by the merciless empire of Faugst.

He watched as many of the women gasped and even some of the men looked horrified. It was already known that Faugst was the empire that was trying to destroy us, and on top of that it was the reason why the room was lacking in men that were able bodied enough to fight.

It had seemed like months, but a few weeks later the poor man had endured every torture they could think of, every torture but the last. A woman was thrown into the room, the very woman that he had fallen in love with, the very woman that held his heart, soul and mind together even after having his body mutilated in every possible way.

She was still defiant despite an obvious wound on her cheek, but the instant she was brought in, his entire mind shut down. Anger was the first to rise, disguising his fear, followed with the fire that came with the emotional turmoil. He wanted to save her, but he wanted to tear them to shreds for hurting her as well.

Whatever his decision, he knew he had to escape the cell they had placed him in, but more than magic was holding him back and he watched as they raped her. Not once or twice, but over and over again. Her screams were unheeded and a mere lacing to the laughter that they were making with every scream she made. His rage began to take him over and he began to burn up, fire within him escaping until he was an inferno.

The moment they realised that he had managed to burn most of the wards, they held her up towards the cage and he watched her agonised face turn one more smile for him before she gasped in pain and knife was just visible through her chest. Blood ran down her face, most of it dried and mixed with the release of their captors, but fresh blood ran down from the edge of her mouth, dripping to the ground.

Before the men even had a chance to react and before the first drop of blood even reached the ground, a fiery inferno had engulfed everything. Their screams unheard, their shouts for help unheeded, the man looked at the ashes of his wife and screamed his rage. His arms raised to the heavens as a ball of fire escaped from him, spanning wider and wider, destroying everything in its way.

The bard halted his story once more, many of the women were gripping onto their seats in fear and pity, and some of the more emotional ones were reduced to tears already. He squandered his desire to roll his eyes and continued with his tale, unwilling to keep his audience waiting.

Rumour has it that he ran from there after that. He had destroyed the entire military encampment and even some of the surrounding grassland. Many say that he escaped into the forest and haunts the place where they used to live; killing those that dared enter and once he even slaughtered an entire family.

A woman gasped and the bard looked at her, tear tracks were still on her face.

“But these are merely stories and no one knows for sure anymore,” he concluded, wondering how he had managed to last so far into the story without any emotion on his voice.

“Is he …still alive?” asked one of the women, fear in her eyes.

“No one knows for sure, but people dare not enter that forest for fear that he is,” whispered the bard.

Shudders passed through the crowd. A mad man that was so powerful, it was frightening for many of the older people, they had seen the aftermath because they were the ones who had been called to help fight the fires which had raged at the time. The story was old, but it seemed that the past was not that long ago.

The bard stood up and bowed.

“If you’ll excuse me now, it seems the journey here has tasked me more than I would dare to say,” he said, his words silken as he wove them to the women in the crowd.

As he walked up the stairs towards his room, he knew that the cloaked man was following him. He was also distinctly aware that he should probably consider running if he wanted to see the next sunrise.

One he was in his room, he instantly grabbed his bag and threw it out the window and quickly jumped after it, rolling as soon as he landed on the ground. Running into the forest was a bad idea, but it was the option left open for him and he took it, charging in and dodging as many branches as he could see in the dim moonlit night.

A hand grabbed hold of his shoulder and he rolled around, out of his grip but stopped short when he saw a wall of fire in front of him. Breathing hard, he turned around and looked into the shadowed face of the man from the inn.

“Did you want an autograph, because I don’t actually have a pen on me right now,” said the bard, his eyes darting around him to look for the nearest exit.

“I don’t want an autograph,” said the hidden man, with a cool, collected voice.

“I don’t have any epitaphs that I can make in this position, sorry for whoever died,” he said, frantic for an escape.

“I don’t want an epitaph,” replied the man, not even a hint of emotion in his voice.

“Then what do you need?” demanded the bard. He had realised that this was one situation he could never talk himself out of and was getting agitated.

“Merely to talk,” said the man, pushing back his hood to reveal a young man that didn’t seem to be a month older than the bard himself.

“You’re dead,” muttered the astonished bard.

“On the contrary,” replied the Fire Master.

“But they said you were, they even displayed your body,” protested the bard.

The Fire Master merely laughed. “I will not leave this world without her, and if I must wait three thousand years before her reincarnation comes back, I shall wait for her,” he said, the emotion complimenting him in a way that would have turned a woman’s legs to jelly.

“Then what do you need me for?” asked the bard, panicking and frightened of what seemed a decidedly psychopathic man; a dangerous one too.

“I need you to find her for me,” whispered the Master, his eyes clouding over as though he was reliving a memory that had been long forgotten.

“I’m sorry to say M’lord but she’s a little dead,” said the bard wryly.

“Not to me,” said the Master, his eyes flashing dangerously. The bard gulped.

“Then where is she?” challenged the bard, though his voice came out as a little squeakier than usual.

“That’s what I need you to tell me,” said the Master, “finish the story you have made, I need to know where she went.”

The bard stared at him. If this man was for real he needed a life, if he was a joke, he needed to be punched. Trying to puzzle out what he meant left the bard staring at a point just over the man’s shoulder.

“Tell him that she’s not here anymore,” whispered a distinctly female voice. The bard swung around and saw nothing but heard a soft breathy laugh in his ear that sent shivers down his spine.

“She’s not here anymore M’lord,” said the bard obediently.

“Then where is she?” demanded the Master.

“Tell him to go home and the answer would be in the rivers hidden there,” the woman whispered.

“Homewards and in the rivers hidden there,” said the bard, the hairs on his neck standing on end.

“Then there is where I go, thankyou bard, you have done me a great service. I will be at your call forever more,” said the man before a sudden flash and darkness had descended upon the area.

“Thankyou,” whispered the voice.

“What for?” gulped the bard, hoping that the ghost would leave soon.

“For helping him, I just needed him in the right place. If you ever need us, we’ll be there,” she said, the voice fading away.

The bard took a few minutes to regain his composure before going back to the inn, though it was a little confusing at the moment, he decided that he could always wait for another day to think on it.

It so happened that years from then, he fell for the daughter of the Faugst Emperor, and was minutes from death with the Emperor himself holding the knife at his throat when two being stepped out from what appeared to be a thin veil of mist.

“Your Empirical Majesty,” said the man, sarcasm making the words more an insult than a title. The woman twirled her finger and the Emperor dropped the knife, letting it fall harmlessly to the ground.

“Love should never be stopped,” whispered the woman, her words like a breeze yet chilling to the bone. The Man stepped out of the mist and grabbed the Emperor.

“We have times to catch up on, Emperor,” he said, spitting out the title.

“And many lifetimes to do so in,” said the woman laughter in her voice.

“Guards,” yelled the Emperor, but all that did was come out as a gargle as water rose into his mouth, drowning him.

“You two might want to run now,” the woman said with a lilt in her voice.

“We’ll deal with him. Our debt is repaid bard, you better treat her well,” said the man, dragging the drowning Emperor into the mist.

“Enjoy your life together bard, and do find us when you pass over,” said the woman before the mist swirled thicker and disappeared altogether.

The bard grasped the woman he loved and ran for it, silently thanking every single God he could think of as he left the empire in the dust. Perhaps being a bard had some quirks after all…