Page 57 of Song of the Dawn
“Ezra?” I asked.
Sensing my anxiety, he moved to my side, leaning so close his breath kissed my face, but none of it gave me relief. “I asked Ginger to meet us here because she’s a slayer.”
“I don’t understand.”
“She hunts demons, and with her weapons, she can slow them down should they try to attack. We’ll be vulnerable out here in the middle of the night…”
He trailed off, the words he left unsaid resonating with me. He’d summoned a foul demon who might attack us while we played, and so Ginger came to protect us. It occurred to me as we left the hut, stepping out into the crisp night air, that I’d never considered Ginger’s role in all this. After all, she was the one who’d gone to Lady Elodie’s aid, and what had she done? Slayed the creature and disposed of the body?
Ezra led the way, with Ginger bringing up the rear. I was thankful for my woolen dress, for the night was cold, and even the beams of moonlight that peeked through the thick shade of the trees did nothing to dispel my anxiety. At night the trees appeared menacing, like shields meant to block the way, and every rustle of leaf and grass underfoot sent my eyes darting. Although, I was afraid to look too hard for fear I’d see red eyes watching, waiting to pounce. I was grateful Ginger was with us.
After leaving the hut, it did not take us long to reach the lake. Murky waters shimmered under silver moonbeams, and the enchanting glade was not as frightening as the rest of the forest. It was much easier to see, and Ezra led us under the yew tree, where he propped the lantern on the stone, something I was sure he’d done many times. When he bent to open his case, a sense of finality swirled. This was it. Placing my case in the grass, I pulled out my grandfather’s violin, this time aware of the wild tale Ezra had told me and what he believed about the myth. Was it true? We’d find out now, but I desperately wanted it to be true. I murmured a prayer under my breath: “Please let this work.”
A rhyme I’d learned when I was young came back to me, a prayer for protection and blessing. I whispered the words as Ezra tucked his violin under his chin and drew the bow across the strings. Music vibrated within my soul, and that dark cry, that call, soared. Notes blazed and scattered through the edges of the forest as though they had wings, and the water carried them further and faster, seeking, seeking the one they called.
I waited, for it was not my turn, and let the music fill me. That strange, haunting tone, the music he played to summon a powerful being and control it. I felt it deeply, as if I was the creature he summoned. Time slipped away, and a sharp cry came, and then a blur.
Ginger’s voice came from somewhere above. “It’s here!”
“Mila, now,” cried Ezra.
With no time to warm up, I lifted my bow, adrenaline rushing through me, and played. The intricate web of notes unraveled as my fingers danced across the neck, pressing, wrenching each heavenly note out, delicately, sweetly coaxing it into being. I dared not look around for fear what I’d see would make me want to scream and run. Ginger was out there. She would protect us. All we had to do was play.
I played the song through, gaining my bearings as I did so. My fingers flew up and down the neck, but nothing happened. Ezra had instructed me once I reached the end to begin again and keep playing. He’d warned me the portal might not open at once, yet doubts crept through my mind. I started again, from the top, and realized that playing my grandfather’s old violin differed greatly from playing the one Ezra had given me.
Memories formed, taking me back to a time when I was young, happy, innocent, and naive. The smallest things would bring me joy, like eating oranges with Aveline, laughing while Mother chased me around the house, and learning to create beauty with music. Grandfather’s fingers had been old already and had shaken when he’d played, but his passion, his love for sound, had remained, and he’d given me that gift.
Taking a deep breath, I went back to those moments, pure and happy, then twisted them into what exactly I’d felt when I’d received the letter from the Dawn and the buoyant relief that had gripped me at the opportunity to play music. This was right; this was true. I’d come to the foothills of Lagoda for this moment and for Ezra. My sun god. He’d shown me his goodness, his kindness, and his burning passion. It was his love I wanted, and to see the weight of his past lifted from his shoulders. Kind. Generous. Considerate. Almost to a fault. And his kisses, his words, the way he teased me, making me laugh even though he had so many responsibilities. When he shone his radiance on me, I felt whole, complete, as if I’d been searching my whole life for something and now I had love, music, even wealth.
A surge of determination swelled through me, and I played through the song again. This time, tiny motes appeared and beyond them, a leering blurb of blackness. The demon neared, and Ezra’s song was the only thing that held it at bay.
Focus. I had to focus. Closing my eyes, I played again, leaning into the music, putting my soul into it. Suddenly I was transported away, back to a field full of flowers, faces uplifted as I walked through them. Music flowed, and I danced, my fingers grazing the grass and flowers, and everything I touched bloomed.
A frigid wind made me open my eyes, my fingers almost stumbling on the strings as a bitter cold swept over me. Motes of violet light brightened the glade, swirls of purples and pinks so vivid and beautiful my eyes watered. I kept playing as the motes swirled together and a faint hum pulsed in the air. The water now reflected the night sky, a haze of silver starlight peppering the darkness, creating a blaze of light. Beyond that brightness, swelling, growing, I sensed another light far beyond it. Dawn. And it came to me that every night that Ezra played, he came out to welcome the dawn, to play through the darkness and bring the light. Because once, he’d been lost and now he was found. Once, he’d been in darkness, but now when I looked at him, all I saw was light.
The music we played blended together, the low and sorrowful, the high and sweet, a complex rhythm that invoked magic and sent tears streaming down my face. It was poignant, so beautiful, like nothing I’d ever seen or heard before. The water shimmered before us, the waterfall thundered, and we were part of nature in its glory, part of the magic of the dawn.
Light bloomed like a flower, and I began the rhythm again, my fingers moving faster, pain in my fingertips, but it did not matter. Nothing mattered at all, because we were part of it. The blur of blackness moved nearer, and the air turned cold and foul. But I would fear no evil, for the magic within us was stronger. As if clarifying, Ezra walked away from my side, still playing, his expression a mask as he strode toward the portal. A snowflake of coldness gathered around him as he stepped into that swirling mouth of light, and the quilt of violet starlight flickered.
The demon followed, hypnotized by the music, and when Ezra crossed over the threshold, he faced me. “End it, Mila.”
My fingers faltered, for this hadn’t been the deal. This was not what we’d discussed. He would lead the demon through and then return, and then, only then, would I play the final notes to close to portal.
Without waiting for my answer, he swung around and walked into that flickering light, that hideous darkness following him. But I kept playing, holding it open, even as my strength ebbed. A weariness washed over me as if I hadn’t slept for days, and spots of blackness danced in front of my vision. Roaring filtered to my ears, but I ignored it, watching, waiting for my lover to walk out of the portal, to return to me.
A boom made my eardrums pop, and a rush of air, like a hand, threw me on my back. A scream burst out of my throat as I dropped my violin, and by the time I sat up, the portal was closed and Ezra and the demon were gone. “No!” I shouted, snatching up the violin. I shoved it against my shoulder, tears already beading in my eyes as I lifted the bow. My hand trembled badly, and my vision went black, sending me to my knees. My shoulders shook as I waited. Could he open the portal from the other side? Would he come back?
When I tried to play, a note went sour, and my fingers shook so hard I could not press the strings down. The price of magic, the energy it took, came rushing in, stripping away my vitality and replacing it with weariness. But Ezra was gone, and I needed him back. This wasn’t the plan; this wasn’t what was supposed to happen.
“Mila!” the shout came, and a moment later Ginger was in front of me. “We have to go.”
“Why?” I gasped, unable to resist as she took my violin and placed it in its case. “We have to wait for Ezra.”
Ginger slid one arm around my waist, supporting me as she picked up the violin. “Ezra is gone. He’s not coming back.”
Mila
“Gone? I don’t understand.” I told Ginger as she pressed a mug of warm tea into my hands. I was wrapped in a blanket in front of a roaring fire in the staff’s lounge. Daylight streamed in, bright and unrelenting, but I couldn’t stop shivering. Ginger had half dragged me back. Once I’d sat down, my limbs had stopped shaking, but more than anything, I was concerned about Ezra.
