The Stillness of the Sky (26 page)

“One Bard against two armies bent on killing each other?” Morgana said with a sniff. “I hope for your sake you’ve got more than a lute for a weapon.”

I frowned. “I do. Kindness.”

She barked a laugh. “Are you certain her fever’s gone down, Amos? This one’s delusional.”

I stuffed my hand in my pocket, clutching the Resonant Stone still with me. Closing my eyes, I focused, taking deep, calming breaths to ease my irritation at being so discounted. Though my body was weak, I couldn’t afford to waste any more time arguing. My concentration set, I opened my mouth and sang.

Though the sun may set

And the darkness fall

Though the shadows may close in

Let one thing be true

And always shine through

Keep your hope burning bright in your heart.

The ground shuddered beneath us, groaning as light released from the very rocks and soil under the house. Warmth seeped into my bones as welcome as sunshine after a storm, and I gasped, sinking to my knees in exhaustion after even that brief demonstration. My heart pounded with the feelings left behind by the melody, and I thought I might cry for all the wonder and joy I knew life to be. I released the Resonant Stone from my grasp and laid on my side, desperately trying to catch my breath.

I could do this. I knew I could. I would sing, I would dance, I would play, and this war would end. There might be scars on those touched by the violence and hate, and they would always have their memories of dark times, but I could make them a thing of the past. The people could heal. I only needed my strength back, and anything would be possible.

As my eyes closed, I caught sight of Morgana’s face peeking at me over the edge of the table.

“Kindness,” I whispered as I fell into sleep once more.

Chapter 21

Something very large and warm prodded my side and my eyes flew open. Gasping, I sat up to stare at half a dozen pairs of eyes looking at me with such intensity it had physical weight. The crowd of giants remained still and silent, not speaking a word.

What little else I could see of my surroundings told me I was not where I last remembered being. A bare crack of moonlight crept into chinks of what might’ve been a closed window, but the figures clustered around me blocked my view.

“Stand aside, you lot,” a loud, booming voice dispersed the audience, making way for a black-skinned giant with a long scar across his face. He was cloaked, but dim firelight gleamed off of a metal breastplate peeking out from the folds of cloth. “So, the little songbird has awoken at last.”

Waking up to hovering faces was becoming a bad habit I very much wanted to break. It was a wonder my heart hadn’t given out for all the scares I’d had in my short life.

“Where…” I looked around again, but there was too little light to make out much. “Where am I?”

The giant crouched down, his face coming level with mine. “From what I hear tell, you’re exactly where you wanted to be.”

My forehead wrinkled in confusion. “What?”

A sardonic smile turned up the unmarred side of his mouth. “Welcome to the war, little Bard. Morgana tells me you were the one that shook the earth this morning. Is that true?”

I swallowed hard. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“If you intend to kill me for it, then, no. It wasn’t me.”

He gave a short, booming chuckle. “You’re very bold for one so small. Aren’t you frightened? Surrounded by giants a hundred times your size, most of them none too pleased with humanity of late, and you decide a bit of cheek is the best way to open?”

“It wasn’t cheek,” I said, scowling. “I’m well aware you could kill me with a flick of your finger. I’m simply asking if that’s what you intend to do. I’ve not met a giant yet that’s given me cause to fear for my life, and I’d very much like to keep on believing the best of you. Well, in that respect anyway. I can’t say as much for your proclivity to holding Bards hostage.”

He stood and gave a sweeping bow. “My good lady Bard is no hostage of mine, so long as she intends no harm.” He lifted his gaze to me, an amused grin still playing at his lips. “But I’ve yet to learn what it is you’ve come for.”

I pulled my knees up to my chest and rested my chin there, considering him. “My name is Jack,” I said. “What I intend depends entirely on whether or not you’ll listen to what I have to say, and how you respond.”

Straightening up, he gave me an appraising look before pulling a chair up to whatever table I’d been placed on. “Jack, is it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, Jack, you have the attention of Cornelius Brantoric, commander of the forces here. If you’ve something important to say, I’d suggest you get to it. I’m very busy these days.”

“I can imagine,” I said. “I’ve a long story for you, if you can spare me the time to hear it, but first I’d ask you a question.”

He frowned. “A long story from a Bard isn’t a dalliance I can afford, but ask your question.”

As King Ivor was likely with his army, or close to it, I was out of choices and out of ideas. If anyone amongst the giants needed to hear what I’d come to say, it was their commander. Failure to speak might be a mistake I could never make up for.

“My question is this,” I said. “If you knew where Crown Prince Aaron Maldavian was, and that it was, in fact, a giant that kept him hidden, what would you do?”

His face hardened to something like sharpened steel, and he bent in close, whispering with simmering anger. “Little Bard, even if such a thing were true, I would certainly know of it. Furthermore—”

“It is true,” I interrupted, knowing full well that I was dangerously close to unleashing a rage that I might never be able to quell. “The two have tucked themselves away from the world, keeping their secrets, both of them heedless of the misery and death they cause for the rest of us. I would never make such accusations if I hadn’t seen this with my own eyes. It isn’t the fault of one or the other, but both together, Commander. They’ve lied to the world, and I won’t let them cause more suffering for their selfishness.”

His expression softened in the barest sense of the word, and I only saw it because he was so close.

“I made my appeals to them, did everything I could to get them to consider coming forward,” I continued. “They locked me in a cage for days over it, and I only got free thanks to a discarded creature who thought to return a kindness to me. If it was within my power to draw them out, I would, but even then I fear this violence would continue for the animosity it’s caused between humans and giants. I can’t fix the pair, but I may be able to mend some of the mess down here.” I paused, praying to the spirits I’d chosen correctly in confiding in him. “But my question still stands, Commander. What would you do?”

He was silent for so long, my fears doubled up on themselves, causing my eyes to sting with hopeless tears I barely held at bay.

Finally, he sat back, crossing his arms. “I would ask you for a name.”

“Whose name?”

“The one you say holds the crown prince.”

I shook my head. “You misunderstand. She doesn’t hold him against his will. They left together. She keeps his secret for him. He asked to be taken away.”

“A name.”

Sighing, I could see he’d not let the matter go, and wouldn’t trust me any further if I refused to answer him. “Aaron called her Lady Oria. I don’t know her by anything else.”

The commander sat up with a start. “Oria? That’s impossible. There’s hardly any that have seen her for…”

My eyebrows lifted. “For about two years? What a coincidence. Do you know her?”

His face went slack, his shoulders slumping. “I knew her parents many years ago. She was always precocious as a child, but I’d never have thought her capable of…” He leaned an elbow on the table and rubbed his forehead. “You have my attention, Lady Bard. I will hear your story.”

Even through all of the information I repeated over the course of the night, first with Commander Brantoric and then several other giant leaders, I managed to omit more than a few details about myself. My abilities I explained, though I left off what I’d learned about my parentage to save my own skin. Since I was still unsure what I thought about it, I didn’t need other people, and very large ones at that, jumping to conclusions about my intentions because of the blood that ran through my veins. I spoke of the Alabaster Heart in the loosest of terms, insomuch that it gave me my mission, though not about why I was chosen, and that I’d come into possession of the Resonant Stone through another Bard that was advised by a fairy. I had to laugh at myself a little. That summer I could barely see past my worries about finding enough food to avoid a beating. By the time autumn was setting in, normal conversation for me concerned magical relics, supremely powerful beings, and royalty.

All of this change brought about because of a single act of kindness and a wish. The world was an unpredictable place.

The structure I’d been brought to was a tent, rather than a building. The sheer size of everything relating to giants never failed to earn my awe and admiration. Morning was much closer than I’d thought when I first awoke, and it soon became clear I’d not be getting more sleep any time in the near future. Word came in that a pair of carriages and a large company of soldiers had reached the Litanian army early that morning, and my stomach filled with dread.

“I should tell you,” Commander Brantoric said as I perched on his shoulder, looking out over the sloping hills between the giant and human armies, “your song did more than shake the ground, even as far as you were from us when you sang it.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, turning my gaze from the landscape before us.

“I wasn’t at all sure what it was at the time, as it’d been so long since I’d felt the things you conjured.” He paused, looking up at the sky, thoughtful. “I wasn’t aware I’d forgotten what hope felt like. It’s strange how such a thing can be chipped away over time.”

His words brought a genuine smile to my face. “I’m glad to hear you could still recognize it, even if it did take a little time. I can’t imagine a life without hope. As bad as things have been for me in the past, it’s a wonder I didn’t lose mine. I suppose I was just too stubborn to give it up.”

“So much the better for us all,” he said with a sigh.

“May I ask you a question?”

“Ask whatever you like, Little Bard.”

“When this is over, what do you intend to do about Oria and Aaron?”

His expression soured. “I think that depends entirely on whether or not you’re successful.”

“If I am?”

When he shrugged, I gripped the fabric of his cloak, holding on for dear life. “I’m not the one to decide such things, as it’s left to general consensus, but I can’t see that they’d welcome her back to our communities after this mess. We’ve no use for the selfish. As for her compatriot, that’s not for us to speak to. He’ll have his own people to deal with.”

“I don’t think he’s of much use to the humans, either, if I’m being completely honest,” I said. “It feels unkind to say such a thing, but I think it would be more so to inflict him on the kingdom as a ruler of any sort.”

“Humans are reactionary creatures,” he said. “I’ve no doubt they’d call for his execution if they learned of what he caused and refused to stop.”

Commander Brantoric was right. If the Litanian people ever knew the truth of Aaron’s cowardice, it was easy to imagine mobs at the castle gates, screaming for his head. “There’s been enough violence and bloodshed for the next hundred years,” I said. “Killing either of them won’t wash away the horrors that’ve been done. If I could, I’d simply erase all memories of either of them, but that’s a little much to ask, even of me, I think. I can’t help but wonder, though. As he’s happy enough now to live away from all other people, do you imagine he always will be?”

“I suppose if one found the right person, they might be fine with no other conversation or people to know for the remainder of their lives, but…”

I chuckled. “Well, having met the two of them, I think that having nothing but each other for company for the rest of their days is a fairly harsh punishment.”

His laughter shook me again. “Perhaps. What are you suggesting?”

“It’s not as if her castle is particularly accessible as it is, but I’m sure she has ways of leaving if she wants to.”

“So you want to banish them, is that it?”

“I’d never be the first to judge others for their actions, but no one will be happy if they return, and their lives would very likely be forfeit,” I said with a sigh. “They made their choices, even after being presented with opportunities to correct their mistakes. They should have to live with the consequences. To save their lives and spare more violence down here, I don’t see any kinder an option for them.”

“I’d agree with you, Little Bard,” he said, “but given where they are, it will take a magic greater than yours to prevent anyone from coming or going from that castle.”

Judging from the position of the sun in the sky, it was nearing midday. If I was to do anything about the war, I needed to do it soon. “Then I suppose that’s a discussion for another time, Commander. I’ll do what I can for my part, but I think the rest will be out of my hands.” A familiar shadow glided over the hills before us, and I patted Commander Brantoric’s shoulder. “It seems my transportation has arrived. Would you mind returning me to solid ground?”

After stepping onto the palm of his hand, he set me at his feet. Ro circled above us and landed not far from where we stood. I stretched and looked up to my newfound ally, satisfied I’d accomplished what I set out to do. Mostly, I’d confirmed to myself that giants weren’t the enemies stories made them out to be, and I made a promise to myself that, should I survive this mission, I’d learn the giants’ tales of heroism and legends to pass along in my travels. What good was being a Bard if I couldn’t share the knowledge I collected?

“Thank you for your hospitality, Commander Brantoric,” I called up to him. “And please tell Morgana and Amos I’m in their debt for seeing me well again.”

He took a knee and smiled down at me. “If you succeed in stopping this war, Little Bard, I think they’ll consider your debt repaid.”