Morning Dew

There is again Shakan, the center of the party. She is dressed in the same bloody dark cloak, covering all her body but her hands and face... Ah, her face! If that old fools could see beyond that thin layer of make-up, they'd become blind by her beauty, as clear as a fullmoon. And the silvery fabric that covers all the inside of her garments? People think it is Valkyrian silk, but it's her own hair, so carefully arranged that seems to be another cloak. In a way, it is, and surely stronger than any shield in all this kingdom, and I'm not talking about a little village in an unknown island. These are the realms of Karidia, home of the "Fearless Wolf Warriors". I personally would say "brainless fighters", but I'm not a bard. She is. How she became a bard is a long story, and I'm terrible telling stories, mainly the long ones. All I'm gonna say is that she likes to sing and tell stories and as a woman she would never have a chance. What? Oh, I'm sorry, but I've said you I'm terrible telling stories. Yes, she is dressed like a man, she walks like a man, she talks like a man and, more important around here, she fights better than any man ever did. Of course, she is an elf, almost as nimble as I am, modestly saying. There she goes. No one wants to lose a single word of the bard. The silence is made almost complete, except for the wind that insists in blowing. - I forgive the wind - says Shakan, extracting laughs from the audience - Well... Lords and most beautiful ladies - she restarts, bowing to some women grouped near a window.- This night is my last with you... Words of lamentation and protests rise all around the wide room. The bard asks for silence. - I have other places to go, new stories to learn, new songs to hear. Someday I may return and sing them all to you. But for now... Shakan stands her hands to me and I give her a modified cither, which can be played by bare hands or with a bow. She starts to play it with skilful fingers and I follow with a flute. The music begins very simple and brings the colours of the past. It then becomes fast and grandiose as she sings: I'm gonna sing a song never heard, For I am the last silvery bard. A tale from far and longed past, When elves were seen among the rest... No one gives a second thought to the "silvery bard" thing. They never do. It's just for the rhyme, they think. And now the music becomes dark and full of fear. The notes don't match with one another, the cither becomes a stranger to the flute: There was as ever a Princess in trouble And no brave hero with a heart so noble To pass thru the mirror that nothing could see, So reach the Tower and let her go free. The words stay in the air, sustained by the strange music. And when it seems endless, the tone is completely changed. It's now startled and faster than ever: But then! What I see? There, from the Mystery Forest! No one could tell how many moons Since the last was seen in the woods. But one of them, as shiny as gold, Pure of heart and far more than bold, Was fighting the ghost colder than ice And daring the monster of hundred eyes! His grace in the battle was just like a dance, Though fiercely and fast, he lost no chance! Once more people has been excited as the History is revived. Shakan comes with a bow hidden in the cloak and starts a very fast sequence that stops in endless notes. The music flows easier now, happy and casual: He touched the glass with the only one horn And returned the Lady to where she was born. The King, so happy, wanted to know The name of the hero that saved his Soul. Here the music fades to a sorrowful lamentation. One by one, the faces around become sad and a little child opens its eyes wide, as before a tragedy to happen. But the bard goes on: Except in dreams, no one could find him. The Princess still call every Morning. This is the story of the earliest dew That everyday cover the grass of the hill. We play no more and the silence comes as sharp as a razor. The wind waits for a breath. After a while, like eternity, the king raises his head and asks: - Is that the end? You can't leave us with a so sad story... Then we restart the music, slow and careful like a cat in a new house. Shakan looks around with her fox-red eyes. Some children are almost weeping but stop as they notice the music becoming faster. And she sings: But there's a verse that I rarely sing: The tears in the morning are from the King, 'Cause the hero came back and took her away. And they will be happy forever, I say... And the happiness spreads aloud, high above the music, now followed by the musicians of the castle... Shakan and I leave the castle a few hours before dawn. We just had time enough to wave a good-bye to the king and the little prince. They offered us horses to make the journey shorter, but we refused. Well, Shakan refused, I hesitated. And now we are in the surrounding forest. The wind still blows restlessly, and colder. - Do you think we will ever come back here? - I ask. - I don't know - says Shakan, removing the make-up from her face.- It's a beautiful place, but I'm not sure I would like to live here. - It's not so easy to live happy forever and ever, is it? - I ask, starting to remove all my clothing, despite the chilling wind. - No - she answers, taking and packing my clothes.- But there must be someplace that could accept a woman bard... a silvery elf bard.- Her eyes gleam in the night shadows, like feline eyes on fire. - Simple for you to say - I reply.- What about me? - I give her my last piece of clothing. She comes closer, caresses my neck tenderly and removes the little crystal that has been hanging on my neck for a week now. Immediately the shapeshifting spell is broken, restoring me to my original form. I shake my head and my long golden mane opens wide like ghosty wings. - Any people good enough to accept a woman bard would like a golden beast that can play a flute as you do... - Shakan wraps the necklace with some of my clothes and put them all in a bag. She then covers my back with her red cloak and jumps on. - Where to, from here? - I ask, not with sounds, but with a language that is long forgotten by most people. - I don't know - she says, unfoldind her long hair, which floats in the air, carried by magical winds.- Someone told me about a land where people has been searching for a good bard. Do you think I am a good bard? - If you were not, I surely wouldn't let you ride on my back. By the way, what about accepting the horses the next time...? Sometimes people swear they had seen a wonderful lady with a long silvery hair, happily riding a golden single horned beast, ever just before the sun has come out to send the legends back to the dreams...

by Cyberknight