Songbird
Authors: Colleen Helme
Copyright © 2015 by Colleen Helme.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Book Cover Art © 2015 by Yvonne Less
Book Layout ©2013 BookDesignTemplates.com.
Songbird/ Colleen Helme. – 2
nd
ed.
First Edition Copyright © 2010 by Colleen Helme
ISBN - 13: 978-1514609859
ISBN – 10: 1514609851
Dedication
To Tom,
Thanks for singing with me.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to thank my family once again for your encouragement and support. It means the world to me. This book has been a labor of love and I’m so grateful for everyone in my life who has encouraged me to use my talents to write from the heart and reach for the stars.
CONTENTS
A huge meaty hand closed over her mouth, stifling her scream. She struggled frantically against the tight grip around her body and her captor strengthened his hold, squeezing the remaining air from her chest. As she fell limp against him, his hold loosened, and she gasped sweet air into her starving lungs.
As she caught her breath, her captor tied a rope around her hands and pushed her to the ground. Looming over her, his beard covered face swam into view and terror clutched her chest. His wide eyes caught hers with a piercing glare, and his vicious scowl froze her blood. “I don’t like kids. So you’ll keep your mouth shut, or I’ll snap your neck. Not a sound. I mean it. Understand?”
She nodded vigorously, but as soon as he straightened, she scrambled to her feet and turned to run. With a grunt of irritation, he quickly grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder. Before she could cry out, he began to run.
With each jolt slamming into her, Teya swallowed to hold back her breakfast. The ground passed by in a blur, but it was too hard to raise her head to see where he took her and keep the food down at the same time. She moaned in rhythm to his steps by the time he finally stopped and lowered her to the ground.
Relief poured over her and tears flooded her eyes. She cried as silently as possible, but the man turned on her with a curse. “I said keep your mouth shut!” He raised his hand to strike her, but before he could complete the motion, another man grabbed his wrist, forcing him back.
“You fool! What are you doing?”
“I’m going to shut her up,” he growled.
“Hitting her won’t accomplish anything. You don’t know what she’s capable of.”
“Yes I do, probably more than you, but if you think you can do a better job then go ahead. But I’m warning you, you’d better keep her quiet.”
“Fine. I will.” Her protector knelt beside her and pursed his lips, noting her pale tear-streaked face and the tightness of her bonds. He cursed under his breath and softly spoke. “I’ll loosen these to make you more comfortable, and then you can have a drink of water. Would you like that?”
Something in his eyes calmed her enough to stop her tears and she nodded. He untied the rope and rubbed her hands together to get the circulation moving, then retied it a bit looser, so it wouldn’t hurt so much. He offered her a waterbag, and she gratefully took a long drink.
“How old are you?” he asked.
She cleared her throat before answering. “Ten.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “I thought so.” He paused, considering her. “I’m going to make you a deal. I don’t want to see you get hurt, but there’s only so much I can do.” He glanced meaningfully at her captor. “We’re going to wait here for a while. If you’re good and don’t cause any problems, I’ll make sure you get home safely, but it all depends on you. Can you do that?”
“You’ll…you’ll let me go?” she stammered.
“Yes. I’ll take you back. But only if you do everything you’re told.”
“All right.” She swallowed, still trembling all over. Why had they taken her? What did they want? Would he really take her home? Terrified, her eyes misted up again, and she choked on a sob.
The man frowned. “For your own good, you’ve got to stop crying.” He jerked his head in the other man’s direction. “Do you want him to hurt you?” Teya quickly shook her head, and tried to stop her tears, but they kept running down her cheeks.
“Listen,” her protector whispered. “If you ever want to see your family again, you’ve got to be brave. That means that you’ve got to stop crying and be as quiet as you can. That’s our bargain. Find that courage, and I’ll make sure you get home.”
Teya took a deep breath and tried to calm down. She didn’t know if she could trust him, but she wanted to go home, and vowed she would do whatever it took to return. With courage beyond her years, she buried her tears deep within herself. Whether this man would help her or not, now was not the time to fall apart. She needed to look for a chance to escape.
The man nodded with approval. “Now, be a good girl and rest here. If you need anything, just ask me.” He took the slack from the rope at her wrists and tied it to a tree branch, effectively leashing her to the spot. After a meaningful glance, he turned away from her and spoke in hushed tones to the other man.
Teya let out a breath, grateful he’d left her alone. She swallowed her fear and repeated that someone would come for her over and over in her mind. She reasoned that it never took this long to return home from her errands, so by now, her grandmother should wonder where she was.
Once her grandmother came looking for her, she’d find the bags Teya had dropped on the path and know that someone had taken her. Then she’d send her father and brother, and they’d get everyone together and come after her. They’d find her and she’d be safe. This hope settled her down, and she sat against the tree with her knees pulled against her to wait.
She watched the men carefully. When they weren’t looking, she tried to work her wrists free, knowing if she could slip away, she’d find her way home. But the harder she pulled, the tighter the knots seemed to get, until she finally gave up. With the other end of the rope tied to a tall branch, it was too high for her to reach, and with nothing sharp, cutting the rope was out of the question. Tired and disheartened, she curled up in a ball and closed her eyes, grateful for the warm clothes she wore.
The next few hours passed slowly, and soon the day faded into dusk. She wanted to ask the men what they were waiting for, but didn’t dare bring any unwanted attention. So she sat as still as she could, glad her captors seemed to have forgotten her, and held onto the hope that each moment might bring her father closer. Turning her face toward the tree, she closed her eyes and soon fell asleep.
It was full dark when soft cursing brought her awake. Three men crowded around her captor, arguing with barely controlled anger, but she couldn’t understand what they were saying.
The sound of approaching riders jerked them to attention and all talk ceased. Could it be her father? Had he come for her? Teya jumped to her feet, pushing her long ebony hair out of her face.
“It’s him!” Someone shouted. “They got him out!”
A dozen or more riders entered their hiding place. One of them jumped off his horse and shoved through the crowd. “Where’s the girl?”
Teya fled behind the tree, but a flare of light caught her in the face, nearly blinding her. “Come out so I can see you,” the newcomer commanded.
She held her hands in front of her face to block the light and glared up at the dark faces lost in shadow. She couldn’t see the man who spoke, but several others leered at her with blatant fascination, and she faltered back a step. Stifling tears, she forced herself to speak. “I want to go home.”
One of the men laughed, but the leader quickly cuffed him before addressing her from the shadows. “I’d like to take you back, but it seems they don’t want you. They’ve refused to listen to reason, so that means you’ll just have to come with me.”
What was he saying? Of course they wanted her! The other man told her she could go home if she was good, and she’d done everything they’d told her. With a burst of anger and defiance, she did the one thing she was taught never to do.
She screamed.
The sudden explosion of sound cut through the air like a sharp blade. Men instantly grabbed their ears and doubled over in pain. Horses shied, birds flew from their nests. Forrest animals joined her with wild screams of their own, splitting the air in shrieking tones. The sky shimmered with electric heat and the earth trembled.
Only the man who’d just talked to her could stand, and he staggered toward her. With brutal force, he slapped her hard across the face, and she flew to the ground in a daze. Sudden silence filled the air. With her cheek throbbing, Teya pushed to a sitting position and took a deep breath to scream again.
The man grabbed her and quickly clapped his hand across her mouth. “You will never scream like that again,” he hissed. He had something in his hands and snapped it around her neck. “You’re lucky I have this, otherwise I’d have to kill you.”
He pulled the rope from the tree, and hauled her toward his men. “There’s no time to lose,” he said, thrusting her into a man’s outstretched arms. “You four take her to the king. The rest of you come with me.”
The crowd parted unexpectedly and the ambassador froze at the vision of beauty standing only ten feet away. Raven-black hair flowed around her slender shoulders, falling in feathered waves and creating a sharp contrast to her porcelain skin. She caught his gaze with startling sapphire blue eyes, and his mind went blank.
After a short silence, the king’s top advisor cleared his throat, and Bran came back to his senses. An embarrassing rush of color stained his dark complexion, and Bran cursed the fates that the king’s advisor had witnessed his reaction.
“Don’t worry,” Chancellor Turner said, noticing his discomfort. “The Songbird affects everyone that way the first time they see her. Beauty like that commands attention, and no one is immune to her exotic looks. But don’t be deceived. She is not to be trusted or taken lightly. None of the Kalorians are. Their race has a penchant to hurt and manipulate others, and must be controlled. That is why we enslave them. But don’t worry.”
He smiled at Bran. “You see the collar around her neck? It’s called a
kundar
, and keeps them under control. Without it, we would be nothing but dirt under their feet. She could devour both your mind and your soul with one look into those fathomless eyes.”
Bran was familiar with the
kundar
, although he didn’t agree with the reason for its use. It was said that the Kalorians were evil because of their magic, but he wasn’t sure he believed it. If the Kalorians really did have magic, it didn’t make them bad, and tales told by power-hungry men weren’t always true. It sickened him that the king would force the suppression and slavery of another race.
The Songbird was a symbol of that enslavement. Although they softened the truth and made it sound like the taming of a wild bird, it was nothing short of bondage. She had no choices, no freedom, nothing. It was wrong, and it grated on him.
Couldn’t something positive come from a reciprocal relationship with people like her? People who had magic at their command? He drew his brows together in confusion, pretending he hadn’t been studying their culture for the last several months. “Is that it? The golden circlet around her neck?”
The chancellor turned his full attention on Bran. “The
kundar
is much more than a simple necklace. It causes excruciating pain if the Songbird uses too much magic. It is like the safety-catch on your weapon and, fortunately for us, she can’t remove it.” His eyes narrowed. “Neither can anyone else.” His pointed look left no question of his warning.
Bran allowed a smile. “I was merely curious. My sole purpose here is to form a liaison between our countries that I hope will be mutually beneficial.” The Chancellor nodded absently, returning his attention to the Songbird.
Bran glanced at her again and found it hard to pull his gaze away. She was draped in a deep blue gown, which clung to the willowy curves of her body before falling away in silky folds. Shimmering layers of diaphanous cloth fell from her sleeves, giving the impression of wings when she moved her arms. The square neckline emphasized the creamy white skin of her long neck, and was edged with deep blue feathers.
“She’s very beautiful,” he voiced his thoughts aloud. Bran pulled his gaze to Chancellor Turner’s profile, and was surprised to see the raw hunger that passed over that man’s face.
“There are many who would give up all they own for such a possession,” Chancellor Turner said, his hard gaze turning to Bran. “But she belongs to the king and he guards her well. Believe me, there have been several attempts to take her, all of which have ended in death.”
“Only a fool would even consider it,” Bran said tightly.
“I’m glad that we understand each other, but I’ll be watching you just the same.”
“That’s the last thing on my mind.” Bran reassured him. “An alliance between our countries would benefit us both. We have much to offer each other.”
“Oh, I plan on exploiting that idea. Your weapons are intriguing. I’ve never seen anything like them. I’m sure we can come to an agreement, but that doesn’t mean I will trust you.”
Bran smiled in spite of himself. “I can see why the king values your opinion. I’ll do my best to stay on your good side.”
“You’re a very wise man. Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s time to begin.” Turner left the reception area at the back of the hall, and spoke to the servants, who immediately began to usher the large number of guests to their assigned places.
Bran’s shoulders sagged in relief, and he made his way to his table near the front of the hall. He sat, grateful for his close proximity to the king’s high table. From here he could observe everything that happened without being obvious.
As the Songbird took her place at the king’s table directly opposite from him, he could hardly believe his good fortune. Now he could easily study her and see for himself if she was as dangerous as they said.
He didn’t realize he’d been staring at her until she turned to him with an unblinking stare. Her gaze traveled over him with a studied blankness that unsettled him, and he held back a shiver. When her attention shifted to a spot behind him, he let out his breath. She masked her feelings so well that he had no idea what she thought or felt, and it intrigued him.
Chancellor Turner stepped to the dais and announced the entrance of the King and Queen. As they made their way from the back of the hall to the high table, the applause turned into loud cheering. King Thesald carried himself with an energy that was both repulsive and fascinating at the same time.
The force of his personality swept through the hall and demanded attention. Beside him, Queen Agnus seemed small and timid, deferring to him in everything she did. It was easy to see that she had no real power and took whatever role the king required her to play.
Bran focused on the Songbird to gauge her reaction to the king, but her countenance held the same blankness she had worn all night. Her face was totally void of expression and he wondered if anything touched her. Maybe there was some truth to the rumors. From what he had seen, he had to agree that she didn’t seem quite human.
“Tonight we celebrate our golden anniversary!” King Thesald said. For an old man, he seemed unusually spry and healthy. He had a full, thick head of reddish-brown hair that was only slightly gray at the temples.
“Since I became king fifty years ago, our enemies have been destroyed and we have prospered in the land. There are none who would dare to oppose the strength of our mighty army. Our kingdom has spread from the sea, far to the North and we are now establishing trade and commerce with the people of Braemar. We welcome our honored visitors and guests who have traveled many miles to reach us. To everyone here, let the festivities begin!”
Amid loud cheering, more servants entered the room and placed platters of food on each table, and filled up empty glasses with wine. An air of merriment flooded the hall and conversation grew to a high pitch. Seated with the other guests, Bran joined in the small talk at his table. As the ambassador from Braemar, he was shown civil respect from his table companions, but it was tinged with an air of distrust.
He did his best to put them at ease and was soon rewarded with an open discussion of the happenings in the city. During the conversation, he kept his attention focused on the king’s table and the Songbird. She never spoke, nor was she spoken to. It was clear she was only there to be seen, like a prize.
Before he knew it, the tables were cleared in preparation for the rest of the celebration. It was almost time for the Songbird to sing, and his stomach fluttered with excitement. Ever since first learning of her, he had waited and planned for this moment. It would prove to him one way or another if magic was real.
The king stood proudly and the hall quieted before he spoke. “This is the moment we have all been waiting for. Our celebration would not be complete without hearing from my beautiful Songbird.” He took her unresisting hand, and led her to a raised platform as though she were an honored guest. From where he sat, Bran heard the king’s soft-spoken threat. “Do not fail me.”
An expectant hush filled the hall. For the first time, Bran detected a flicker of emotion behind her cool exterior. Was it anger or defiance? As quick as it came, it was gone, and her face returned to the schooled blankness that made her seem remote and cold. The silence lengthened uncomfortably before she tilted her chin at a determined slant. As she took a deep breath, Bran caught the gleam of wildness in her eyes, and his stomach clenched with sudden apprehension.
The first few notes took him by surprise. They were light and clear, shinning like sparkling water under the sun, and carrying an underlying tone of reverence. The tones conjured golden images of light, and bound to the intensity of her voice, created a feeling of wonder and awe. As the beautiful tones rose in volume, the air became drenched with glittering light. Swirling around her, the light shifted in color and size, growing and changing with the music.
He could only describe this display as fireworks bursting with color and then trailing away into sparkling diamonds of light. The beauty took his breath away, and it seemed as if the entire hall was enclosed with torrents of golden light.
The steady light grew, and he watched with amazement as it fell down from above and encircled his body, even becoming the air he breathed. Incredibly, his skin and clothes took on a golden hue. As he tried to understand what was happening, the tones grew in intensity and lifted his soul to another sphere beyond his wildest imaginings.
Time slowed, and almost stopped. Then the moment passed and he could breathe again. His senses reeled like he had just been taken for a wild ride. As he gathered his wits, a low echo filled the hall, soothing his nerves. The melody and harmonies changed, whispering of tranquility and peace.
Within this blanket of warmth, his defenses fell away, one by one. An air of complacency relaxed his breathing and peace surrounded him. He vaguely sensed his vulnerability, but couldn’t do anything about it, nor did he want to. Even the air he breathed seemed laden with calming hues of green and blue.
All at once, the tones changed into a twisting dissonance, sending his blood racing with distress. Bran instinctively covered his ears along with everyone else in the room. Startled cries of pain from the crowd joined the dissonance, cutting into him like nails.
The Songbird’s beautiful face twisted with her own pain as she forced out the notes and struggled to stand upright. Fighting obvious agony, she continued to sing, and the notes rose in a crescendo that swirled in the air around the king. Bands of dark light descended over him and tightened in a vise.
King Thesald came to his feet with a strangled gasp and clutched at his chest. Her song continued, but the effort sent her to her knees. Then with a pop, the
kundar
around her neck flared a bright orange-red, cutting off her voice and leaving the room abruptly silent.
Moaning, the Songbird fell to the floor, clutching her stomach and writhing in pain. Her fall jolted everyone into action. As the king slumped, the guards nearest him, caught his arms and led him to his seat.
Chancellor Turner jumped to his feet. He motioned a few guards to his side and stood over the Songbird’s still form. “You will be severely punished for this,” he said, his teeth clenched in anger. “Take her away.”
As the guards hauled her to her feet and dragged her down the hall, Bran held his breath. Her pale face haunted him with abject defeat, as if she didn’t care whether she lived or died. The change from the blankness she carried before unsettled him.
If he ever doubted her humanity, it was erased by the passion of her song, and the desperate act he had just witnessed. Her song touched him deeply, and now her pain became his own. True, she had hurt the king, but he understood her desire for freedom.
The attendants surrounding the king dispersed, leaving him sitting upright in his chair. The king mopped his brow and took a long drink of wine before motioning to Chancellor Turner, who held up his hands to quiet the whispering crowd.
“I apologize for this small inconvenience,” he began. “As you can see, King Thesald is unharmed and would like the festivities to continue. Please understand that every once in a while, the Songbird tries to hurt the king. Do not be alarmed. It is her nature and the true nature of all Kalorians. Thankfully, because of the
kundar
, she only ends up hurting herself.”
He signaled, and a group of musicians and dancers came forward. With this diversion, the tension dissipated from the hall and Bran relaxed into his chair. He was stunned by what the Songbird had done, but felt that it was more than defiance spurring her on.
From the defeat on her face, he almost believed it was a death wish. Could he blame her? In her place, he would do all in his power to gain his freedom, or die trying. Her song haunted him, and he couldn’t seem to forget the flowing beauty that had surrounded him, nor the dissonant pain.
He also believed that the king had suffered. She’d hurt him. Even now his face was pale and pinched. What would her punishment be? What they would do to her worried him, but she must have felt the price was worth it.
Coming from Braemar, Bran had only heard stories about the things that happened in the Old Country. Power and magic existed on this side of the wall, but not on his. The West had technological advances that made this society seem primitive, but there was no magic where he came from.
