Page 51 of Song of the Dawn
Hiccuping, I nodded and willed the tears to stop. He would not hurt me. He was still the Ezra I knew, with a dark, terrible secret. Once more, I saw that soulless beast rise from the water and shivered. I thought I might throw up again, but I held myself still, taking deep breaths to allow the nausea to pass.
Ezra slid to the floor as if too weary to stand and rested his head on the doorframe. His words were measured and even as he spoke, hints of emotion banished, just like him.
“As I told you, I was raised as a serf. During my childhood I learned how to carve detailed, lifelike statues. What I didn’t tell you is that I also played violin, an innate skill that came naturally to me. Whatever music I heard, I could replay, and when I did, odd things happened, but I was a child and could not explain it. When I became a squire, I forgot about those skills and advanced through the ranks, focusing on land and wealth and war. Eventually I became a well-known knight, sworn to serve a gracious queen, but it was not enough. I began to carve again and play the violin, and eventually I heard of a great and powerful sorceress.”
Ezra paused and sighed. Running his hands through his hair, he continued, his voice low and haunting, “The queen I served had several knights, but there were some who broke their vows. When they did so, she called upon a sorceress to punish them. The sorceress enjoyed inflicting misery on those who disobeyed. In fact she became legendary because of one of her own knights she banished, a man called Sir Rainer. When he stole from her, she exiled him to another land and sentenced him to a tower. Thus the fallen knights became known as the Tower Knights. There were others too, who murdered for sport, bribed and thieved for pleasure, but I did not think I would earn a sentence like theirs, because my desire was to create. When the queen released me from her service, I swore an oath to the sorceress, an unbreakable vow, because she had what I wanted. The power to create.”
I waited while he stared off into the distance, as if summoning the courage to continue. I had no words for him, only a deep disquiet, a fear of what would happen next.
“The sorceress gave me land and a place in her court, and I gave her music. There were many musicians in the sorceress’s court, and they used the magic of music to change things. I’d finally learned how to wield the magic of my violin, and in her court, I made indescribable things happen. But most importantly, I created portals to new worlds. They are beautiful, like purple starlight lighting up the world, and when the sorceress saw what I could do, she named me the Sorcerer of Portals, and I opened them into lands as she requested.
“But there were other things I could do too. I showed you the creatures I carved from wood because they remind me of what I did. When I wasn’t playing in the sorceress’s court, I made statues and endeavored to find a way to make them come alive. At first I thought the violin would help me because depending on the notes I played, I could summon spirits.”
My mouth went dry at his admission, even though I’d seen it with my own eyes. It sounded even worse coming from his lips. A deadly truth all mixed with magic I did not, could not, understand.
“Mila, I’m a necromancer. It’s what I’ve always been. When I play my violin, I summon death, and I can’t teach for fear of passing my magic on to you. I should have been honest with you, but I was afraid you’d react like this, or worse, you wouldn’t believe until it was too late. When you played in the symphony hall, your music was pure, untarnished, and I selfishly wanted it for myself. You make it easier to face the darkness when I have your light and beauty to return to.”
Tears filled my eyes, and a sob welled in my throat. My shoulders trembled at his words as understanding swept through me. But not forgiveness, for he’d known all along who he was. He’d been responsible for death and shadows.
When I did not respond, he continued, “I thought I could achieve creation by putting souls into my statues, but that was not how it worked. Time and again I failed until I grew bold and stole the sorceress’s staff. I used the power of its crystal to give my statues life, and I raised an army of monsters, who were wild and selfish and evil. They destroyed everything they laid hands on, and only the sorceress could stop them. When she saw the death and devastation I’d caused, she banished me and took a piece of my soul to force me to continue to work for her, even from afar. This year, though, marks the end of my servitude to her. If I complete one final task, she will return the piece of my soul and close the portal between this land and her land, once and for all.”
I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until I let it out, and all the pieces fit together. My fingers shook, and I clasped them in my lap so tightly they hurt. I knew what he was going to say even before he completed his story.
“She gave me one last year to live and demanded I summon a demon from the depths and deliver it to her. I wasn’t going to do it. Death was preferable, and then…” His voice broke. “Then I met you, and I thought maybe all could be forgiven and forgotten. Perhaps I didn’t have to live under the weight of darkness and sway of the sorceress. I carved a new violin, and I waited, for my magic is often strongest during the seasons’ change. I’ve played and played, but I didn’t find the right notes to summon the beast until today. It was all so simple: summon the beast, open the portal, and then she would remove her claim on me and allow me a second chance to live and love. There’s a purity to it, like being reborn, and everything…everything went wrong.”
He broke off suddenly and sagged against the doorframe, as if he no longer had the strength to hold himself up. I considered the motes I’d seen, the gathering of a portal. Was it I who had ruined his second chance? Who had made him hope for redemption? But no, I was not responsible for him having summoned a demon, a deathly creature, to appease the sorceress, and that could not be overlooked. Warring sensations twisted through me as I replayed each conversation, each interaction we’d had. The past he was making amends for lay before me, all the pieces, and with one word, one look, I could forgive him or damn him.
“I love you,” he whispered. “But I won’t bother you anymore.”
Standing tall, he twisted and walked away.
I waited, hands clasped, for what seemed like an eternity. But he did not return. The silence stretched, the rain slowed, and I sat there, weighing his words, turning over his story again and again. My mind was quick, for I knew what I should do: return to my room, pack my bag, and go into town. From there, I’d find a stagecoach and travel to Mother and Aveline. This would only be a memory, a nightmare—no, not a nightmare, a tragic love story, like the ones written in books. Instead of getting up, I curled into a ball, holding on to the sheets that smelled like him, and sobbed long and hard.
Mila
Ihobbled back to the inn and snuck up to my room. Instead of packing, I lay in bed and cried some more until I was drained. When Rachelle came to check on me, I told her I was sick, and she returned with water and soup. I didn’t have it in my heart to eat, but I knew I should keep up my strength. When I put a spoonful in my mouth, again I saw that demon, and my stomach heaved. I almost didn’t make it to the chamber pot.
Curling in bed, I rocked back and forth, too numb to cry anymore. I needed to think, to decide, but I was tired of being strong, of being alone, of taking care of myself. I wanted to lie down and let someone else handle the situation for me. Even in my mind, I heard his voice break as the truth had spilled out, a truth so horrifying and damning. Still, this was the country, and as Giselle had said, old tales sprung from it. Giselle. My mind latched on her, wondering how much she knew of the truth. Before I left, I’d talk to her.
In the morning, I woke to a knock on my door. Startled, I rolled out of bed, realizing I still wore Ezra’s robe. Pulling it tightly around me, I opened the door and stepped back, shocked to see Ginger on the other side.
She stood stiffly, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched. She studied me for a moment before pushing inside. “You and I are going to have a talk.”
“Why?” I staggered back. “Did Ezra send you?”
Ginger snorted. “Why would he?”
I opened my mouth and closed it, perching on the edge of the bed. Ginger settled on the chair in front of the fireplace. It would have been helpful to have a fire to warm the room, but I’d been too morose in my disenchantment to make one.
“No, I am here of my own accord,” Ginger went on. “The inn is closing.”
I stiffened. “What? Why?”
“I’m sure you know why. After all, you witnessed it yesterday. There is a demon loose in the woods, and if anyone comes to harm…well…we can’t let that happen. Again.”
Again. Was she referencing what had happened with the lady? Had a demon been in the inn before?
“We are sending all the guests home and the staff away, at least those who will go. Moses and Marley are stubborn, and so are Dusty and Giselle. Rachelle, though, knows what is good for her and will leave. And you will go too, if you know what’s good for you.”
