You'll soon find out about the song in question below, and here's the tune I composed for it: Two Mages Song, Copyright ©2002 Ophidia Snaketongue. Happy reading and listening!
An Enjoyable Partnership: A Tale of Two Mages
Part One
Within the Den of the Seven Vales, barmaids rushed back and forth with trays of drinks, a bard tuned his harp in the corner, and two mages sat arguing. The other customers, mostly tradesmen and women coming in for a quick break, watched them with avid interest.
“White?”
“No.”
“Yellow.”
“No!” Edwin replied, sounding slightly annoyed. He licked a finger, and then carefully ran it around the edge of his own wine glass, making it sing and then smiling slightly at its sweet song. Several of the other patrons in the Den of the Seven Vales looked up in startlement to see where the noise was coming from.
“Why do you do that?”
Edwin shrugged. “Why not? (Better than listening to her.)”
“Never mind.” Nalia shook her head. “Green?”
“No.”
“Nice colour, green.”
“No!”
“Pink?” Nalia asked innocently.
“Definitely not!” Edwin said angrily. “I am not wearing pink robes! I am happy with red.”
“It makes you a bit obvious, though, doesn’t it? You’re supposed to be dead, remember? If someone sees a Red Wizard called Edwin Odesseiron walking about, well… Anyway, you’d look lovely in pink.” The corners of Nalia’s mouth twitched suspiciously. “You ought to change your name, too.”
Edwin growled under his breath and returned to making his wineglass sing. Nalia was determined to pester him about his robes, and it was rather annoying. However, there was a part of him that was quietly pleased. Nalia had been left very weak from that vile Curse of Apathy, weaker than him. He’d wondered about that- why had it taken her longer to recover? Ah, she was simply puny. That must be it. Still, even though her face was pale, and she had dark shadows under her eyes, this needling of him showed she was beginning to return to full health.
“Maroon?”
“No!”
Edwin blinked thoughtfully. It was a full tenday since they had killed Feredain in that final magical duel, and after leaving the questionable care of that idiot Ilmateri priest Thaddeus, they had decided to take rooms in an inn to recover before returning to Keep de’Arnise. They had spent most of the time sleeping at first, but now their energy was beginning to return. At least, Edwin’s was.
“Purple?”
“Certainly not.”
“Cloth-of-gold?”
For a second, Edwin was seriously tempted. A brief vision of himself in sparkling golden robes, reflecting the sunlight, flickered through his mind. “Hmm…no.”
“How about…oh, the bard is about to start! I’ve heard he has a new ballad he’s singing for us tonight.”
“My dear Nalia, if I wished to listen to catgut being plucked, I would get a kitten, a fireball spell and a wooden frame, and…”
“Shush!”
The bard put his lap harp down, and stood up, clearing his throat. “Gentlefolk all, my name is Yijin, a bard of some disrepute.” The man winked charmingly, and the audience chuckled dutifully in response.
I know him from somewhere!
You certainly do. Edwin replied with a snort.
Huh?
“I hope I can amuse you with my humble performance tonight. I bring you a new song, a sad tale of magicks gone awry, of loves lost, of vengeance unto and even after death. It is based upon a tragic tale told to me by a passing group of adventurers before they continued on their epic journey, smiting evil and defeating foes both swift and terrible. But enough- I twitter on, and the hour does grow late. For your amusement, I present this ballad: ‘A Tale of Two Mages’.”
“Ah, a magical song. I approve wholeheartedly. Perhaps there are some sensible people in this spell-hating country after all.” Edwin remarked, taking a thoughtful sip of his wine.
The bard sat down again, and arranged his harp carefully in his lap. He plucked out a simple introductory sequence of notes, and then began to sing in a clear tenor voice:
“There once were two mages, fair and foul,
One was a noble, one a bloodcowl,”
(“Ah, a song about the Red Wizards. Perhaps this won’t be as astoundingly dull as I first suspected.” Edwin commented.
“Umm, no, I don’t think it’ll be boring…” Nalia murmured, with a growing expression of dismay, as if she had realised something nasty.)
“They cast a spell, by mistake,
Found they were bonded, couldn’t break.”
(“I have a horrible feeling about this song…” Edwin said.
“I think you’re right.”
The bard continued on to the chorus, ignoring the backchat.)
“Oh, woe! Can it be so?
A tale of two mages,
Who you might know.”
(“It’s ‘whom’, not ‘who’!” Edwin burst out angrily. “Is proper grammar impossible for this idiot minstrel to master?”
“Be quiet over there, we’re trying to listen!” A nasal, aristocratic voice said.
“Order me around, receive a fireball.” Edwin snarled in its direction.
“Will you shut up!?” Nalia demanded.)
“The mages were joined by spells aglow,
What one thought the other did know,
Pain and pleasure all combined,
Thought and emotion intertwined.”
(“Oh dear,” Nalia said reluctantly. “It is about us, isn’t it?”)
“Oh, woe! Can it be so?
A tale of two mages,
Who you might know.
These two had an evil enemy,”
(“Do they mean Feredain? She wasn’t evil, I don’t think.”
“Of course she was evil. She was trying to kill us, or is your memory so poor you forget events more than three days distant?”)
“She would not stop ‘til dead they be,
Hunting them with fiendish plans,
Followed them throughout the lands.
Oh, woe! Can it be so?
A tale of two mages,
Who you might know.
They did not know their doom was near,
Didn’t see what to fear,
Joined together, didn’t care,
These two mages, foul and fair.”
(“They are making us sound like idiots!” Nalia exclaimed.
“What do you expect from a fourth-rate bard in a shoddy tavern such as this one?”)
“Oh, woe! Can it be so?
A tale of two mages,
Who you might know.
The evil mage cursed them, a spell to kill,
She did not want their blood to spill,
But slowly wither, die in pain,
Their death would be her gain.”
(“And you say she is not evil. Hmm.”)
“Oh, woe! Can it be so?
A tale of two mages,
Who you might know.
The mages fell in love over time,
Shared more than spellcraft, pleasure sublime!
Noble and Red Wizard combine,
Lovers wooing, so divine.”
(Nalia started choking loudly on her ale.
“Ha, these bards have to put glutinous romance into everything. They never use their brains to think. (At least he recognises my talent...)”
“As if that could ever happen between us!”
“Couldn’t it?”
“No!”)
“Oh, woe! Can it be so?
A tale of two mages,
Who you might know.
A priest told them of the curse most vile,
They only had a little while,
To find the mage that wished them dead,
“Only three days” the priest said!
Oh, woe! Can it be so?
A tale of two mages,
Who you might know.
Gave chase they did, and found the mage,
Now a battle they did wage,
Spells they threw, what a din!
And in the end they did win.”
(“At least he got that part right. We won through superior skill and marvellously subtle tactics.”
“We did?”
“Yes!”)
“Oh, woe! Can it be so?
A tale of two mages,
Who you might know.
The evil mage was dead and gone,
But she had planned for if they won,
The foul curse was still applied,
Hand in hand the mages died.”
(“How dare he make up such drivel?”
“Edwin, that did actually happen.”
“Oh. Yes. So it did. Except we didn’t truly die.”
“Um, no. Of course we didn’t.”
“What?”
“Nothing!”)
“Oh, woe! Can it be so?
A tale of two mages,
Killed by their foe.
They say the two mages still are there,
Haunting their deathbed, the joined pair,
The lovers bonded such a strange way,
Ghostly hand in hand to this day!
Oh, woe! Can it be so?
A tale of two spirits,
From long ago?”
The audience erupted in cheers as soon as the last note sounded through the Seven Vales, and a scatter of coins landed about the bard’s feet. He grinned, stood up and took several bows.
“My life is over.” Edwin moaned. “I may as well spend the rest of my days in a dank cave subsisting on nuts and berries.”
“You’ve tried that once already.”
“Shut up!”
Nalia sighed heavily. “Well, at least they liked it.”
“Hmm. I wonder if we could get royalties?”
“I really don’t think so.”
***
The desert.
Endless dunes, and weirdly wind-eroded rock pinnacles stretched as far as the eye could see. The wind whistled through cracks and roared over the open sand flats.
The sun was at its highest as a thin figure clambered up a dune, slipping on the soft dry sand. His face was red in the heat, and he moved more slowly with each passing minute.
Xan climbed up another dune, panting hard. It was over, he knew that, but he still kept running. Trying to run. Trying to walk. Trying to crawl. His elvish ears could pick up no sound of his pursuers, but they had to be out there somewhere; they didn’t give up so easily. Why did the body continue to flee when the mind had given up already? It was hopeless, so hopeless. His blood thudded in his ears.
How had he got here in the first place? Ah yes, the half-orc that had rescued him from Mulahey. What was his name? Xan normally had an excellent memory, but the heat was playing tricks with his mind. He remembered a friendly grin on an ugly face. Green skin. Rusty plate mail. Xan had thought of joining the half-orc’s party, since they said they needed a mage, but after a chance remark to the affect that they had thrown the last mage they had met into the Nashkel river, he had changed his mind. Maybe he should have joined them, even so? No. No doubt they were dead by now.
He reached the top of a dune, and half-slid, half-staggered down the other side. Ha, what difference did it make? Everyone died eventually, some sooner than others. He had always known he would come to a sticky end, and now it was obvious that his last breath would be of the scorching desert air. He was doomed, truly doomed.
Where now? Height. Climb another dune. Maybe he had lost them…maybe…no. Don’t be stupid. You will never lose them. After leaving the half-orc and his party, he had headed south, then farther south, to Calimsham. He had wanted to meet the Calimshite Djinn he had read so much about. Oh yes, he met them all right. They had hired him to do a job. Why had he taken it? He had known at the time that it was a hopeless assignment, but lack of food can make even an elf desperate. A bounty hunt. Simple, eh?
He crested the top of another dune. Breath getting short. Like breathing treacle. Head pounding. Feeling sick. But the horizon was clear in all directions. No sound or sight of his quarry-come-hunters. A gentle breeze rustled his hair and briefly cooled the sweat on his face. The desert was eerily silent at the best of times and now that silence pressed in upon his ears until it seemed almost solid. No insects, birds, or rustling of leaves to interrupt it. The air smelled of hot rock. An unfamiliar emotion washed over him.
Hope.
He had outrun his attackers. They were nowhere to be seen. He was safe, for now. What next? Find water. Maybe one of his spells could be used? Cone of cold, maybe. He could cast it, then melt the resultant ice. He was so thirsty it was no longer a need, but more like an elemental force. Yes, water was good.
Suddenly, Xan slipped as the sand beneath him became liquid and reared up, falling onto his back, the breath knocked out of him. He screamed as the humanoid figures appeared, the sand pouring off them like water. He scrambled away from them, using hands and feet to try and get upright again, and then hastily cast a magic missile at the hunters, but it bounced off them harmlessly, exploding into a cloud of cherry red sparks. He tried to back away and fell again, his arms shielding his face in one last, hopeless gesture of defence. A deep growling laugh sounded in his ears, so close, too close.
Claws dug into the flesh of his arms, and he felt warm blood trickle down his overheated skin. The last thing he saw was teeth, white flashing canines, grinning in the sun.
Later, Ruhk Ihtafeer smiled with satisfaction as he put his knives away, his white teeth now streaked with blood. This had been a very good hunt. His minions had enjoyed it, too. The elf had not fought particularly well, but he had been sneaky and devious, typical of his type. Ihtafeer had never tried elf before, but had decided he could acquire a taste for it. It was so sweet and tender, even if there wasn’t much of it on one elf. It was so kind of the Dao to provide them with constant meals like this!
Ah-khresh burped and cast aside one of the late elf’s femurs to one side. He scratched his fur with a clawed hand, then carefully licked his paws clean with a delicate pink tongue.
“What now, Great Leader?”
“The Hunt continues. We see what the Dao shall do next. Maybe,” Ihtafeer said pensively, “Maybe we could head north, to new lands. See if anything happens there to interest us. The desert grows dull.”
His underlings nodded, and the party of rakshasas got up and started their trek across the desert, heading roughly north.
The bones of Xan were left scattered on the sand, to bleach in the sun and be buried by the next sandstorm. He had been right after all- he was doomed.
***
“Indigo?”
“For Gods’ sake, Nalia!”
