A Time to Sing
With a heavy heart, Rauvin swept a loose handful of sand over the tomb of his friend.
It wasn’t his friend’s fault, of course; it rarely was in the Wilderness. Here, death didn’t merely wait around every corner, it came looking for you. Wiping sweat from his brow, he remembered how bright the morning had been, how lively the song of his friend was. That was, of course, before sticking a foot in his boot and yanking it out again, screaming in pain. The paralysis had come quickly after, and the sands had done their part, shifting and sieving, as if trying to help Rauvin forget. Forget, but not forgive. No, he could not,
would not forgive. Burn them all.
It was a fool’s errand; a pointless venture. Everyone knew the Wilderness was just that: wild. There was nothing to be found here among the crumbling ruins of a long-dead civilization except the ghosts of the past. There was no song here, except for the song of the dead. He could hear them, longing, every time he closed his eyes. His friend seemed to have joined that mournful choir. May the Song guide him.
Coughing suddenly, Rauvin prepared to leave. There were no burial rites among the Canticles, no protracted ceremony. Once the soul had joined the Ways, the body was but dross and was quickly disposed of. Perhaps some in another land might have been aghast at the disrespect, but there it was. They were the reason, in fact, Rauvin was even out in this forsaken wasteland, saying his goodbyes to a tune-brother. His expedition had been given a charge, a great quest some might say, to sift from the ruins…
something. He had never been sure exactly what; he hadn’t been on a high enough line for that knowledge. Not every note knew the grand design. But something with which to fight against those vicious outsiders. All he had known was that it was a particular text, an ancient glyph of sorts, and that it lay somewhere in the ruins of the Wilderness. He was told that he would know it when he saw it. Well, burning good chance of that! Everything the blazing suns touched became withered and pale. Everything else was scoured clean by the driving sands and relentless winds. The ruins were like the bones of great animals; picked clean by scavengers, they lie gleaming in the dunes, a testament to the hubris of might.
And yet, they had been right in a way. He
had known it when he saw it, though it was well-worn and spattered with sweat fresh from his face. With sides heaving, he had dragged it from its gritty grave. Those who had sent him would soon see, Rauvin thought to himself. Shouldering his pack and squinting against the suns, he grinned inwardly and patted his pocket to make sure his prize was safe. Inside his pocket was nestled a small slab, a chunk really, upon which was written the secret to the Ways. Of course, the Ways themselves were not much of a secret; one joined that great Choir when one died. The catch was how to make them work for you, as the disciples of the Ways did with their wondrous ballads and serenades. With a tune, the disciples could heal the wounded; with a symphony they could burn the world. The latter, he had found, required a sacrifice. His friend, though unwilling, proved sufficient for the purpose; as it happens, paralysis makes it awfully difficult to dodge a swift blade. His heart was heavy not with regret for his friend, but with remorse for the world that would be burned at his passing.
And now, when he closed his eyes, he could
feel them. The Ways, the spirits of the departed, coursing through him, suffusing him, giving him a new tune. Intoning, Rauvin bounded across the dunes with inhuman speed, leaving behind the sepulcher of a tune-brother.
With power such as this, he was no longer a pawn, no longer an instrument to be used up and thrown aside. With the endless choirs of the endless Ways, he would sing the song that would end the world. His will would find harmony in the cries of the punished, and in the refrain of the ruined, melody.
Indeed, it was a time to sing.
![Kaitech[SanD]](/styles/default/vindit-avatars/unspecified48.jpg){kind=avatar}
