Hope

Bard’s world spun, shifting from black to bright white. The Empress’s cries vanished as his body hit the ground. The air was knocked from his lungs, while the sounds completely vanished around him. He blinked, his vision still trying to wrestle with the sudden changes. The smell of ash, and blood was replaced with damp earth, moss, and the smell of forestry.

As his vision returned, his eyes saw the ravine’s step walls, while a blackened trunk, unmoving, helped to ground his location. Father Tree. His chest tightened, memories reorienting. Sen’s red eyes, Zak’s wails, Kai’s shade charging, following her commands. Everything was gone. He clenched his hand, refusing to give more time to this feeling. She could turn him if he gave into despair. But what was the point of remaining out of it? He shook his head, and clutched at it when it flared in pain.

“Easy, Bard,” a semi familiar voice said, steady but strained. A strange man knelt before him, and Bard’s eyes flew open. White hair with a blue streak in the middle, golden eyes that held the hues of sunset. His curiosity took in the six horns that adorned the man’s head like a type of crown. “You’re safe, for now.”

Bard pushed himself up, wincing before his hands flew to the tokens about his neck. As he pulled them away from his personage, he saw the last one fade to black and closed his eyes. All of them, were gone. As tears filled his eyes, he chanced a peak at the tokens one last time, and noticed one was still not black, but the melody was gone somehow. His role as the Elder Trees’ voice felt hollow now.

The man offered a sad smile, his golden eyes filled with compassion, though Bard wondered if it was pity.

“Sen…. Zak,” his voice broke, and the man reached out and put his hand on his shoulder. “You couldn’t have saved them?” he asked, anger tinging his voice.

The man’s eyes softened, but his jaw tightened. “I tracked Zak, but only got back as she took them. I’m sorry. I thought to save you at the very least.” Bard pushed the hand away. He knew it was impossible to expect anything different from what had happened, but why hadn’t this person been there to help? He heard the man sigh before looking back at Father Tree.

“She’ll be hunting you now.” That was obvious. The man moved his hand and a flicker of what seemed to be light, white light shimmered in his hands. He reached up, and the light extended around them both before vanishing. “I brought you to Ja- er Father Tree. We’ll start here.”

Bard’s eyes were filled with fury and disbelief. “Start? They’re gone, everything’s gone. The village, my family, Kai,” he glared, voice low. “I can’t fight her, and my songs don’t do anything to that monster.”

The horned man looked back at him with a very compassionate look. He moved a bit closer and placed a hand on Bard’s shoulder, firmly. “You’re not meant to fight her, especially not like that. You lost, ye, but you’re still here. That’s enough for now.” He chuckled before moving past him. “Walk with me.” Bard stayed still, his eyes following the man who paused and then waited till it became too awkward and Bard followed after him.

“Who are you?” he asked, realizing he hadn’t even asked the person in these tumultuous times.

“Hmm? Oh, I suppose an introduction is in order. My name is Anjur. If my horns didn’t give me away, I’m not from around these parts. Just know I’m an old friend of J- Father Tree.” Bard was surprised but also confused.

“You seem to want to call Father Tree someone else.”

“Sure. Before he was Father Tree, he was Japetus, well, Jay for short. The-” he paused and then sighed. “How much did he tell you of who he was?”

“That he was among the first on this world, and that he came from the moon before it shattered.”

“That’s… a simple way to put it. I knew him from back then. But we are getting a bit sidetracked. I’ve watched you for a long time, Bard. Back then you were just a tike, and your mother was killed, but I brought you to Jay’s woods because you would be safe there.”

“Wait. You-” Anjur smiled and then walked further on. Bard’s eye grew wide. This was the mysterious being who kept saving him from the shades? All these years, and now he showed himself.

They walked past shades who eyed them but moved on, heading in different directions as if they were just spooked animals. They made their way to the top of the ravine and back tracked to Father’s form. Anjur sat down and then motioned for Bard to do the same.

“I know you are troubled, and with a lot of emotions,” Anjur said, and Bard raised one eyebrow, frowning. That was also obvious. “That said, you are still an Elder, and a chief. You have a work to do. I can offer a bit of time to settle these feelings, but I’m afraid that is all I can do for you.”

“I’m no chief anymore,” Bard muttered, eyes casting out to Father Tree. “And the elders are all gone.”

“You are still Bardon Jaystrum, the man who plays what others need to hear. It’s why I’m here, and why Jay trusted you.” Bard’s eyes flew to Anjur. Jay, Jaystrum. That made sense in name, why hadn’t he noticed it earlier. He shook his head, he was an emotional mess right now. He heard a ruffling sound, which sounded much louder due to the perpetual silence around them. As he looked at Anjur, he saw him pull something out from his cloak. The sound reached his ears before his eyes saw a glowing token, one that held Father’s melody. Anjur smiled softly before moving his hand over. Bard held out his hand, realizing what was going on.

“Take this. He’s still present, in a way. So are Sen, Zak, even Kai. Their souls linger, even in their shade.”

Bard took the token, the melody washing over him like a warm breeze. It was Father’s song, steady, grounding him. Tears stung his eyes, but he didn’t wipe them away. His mind whirled with all sorts of things. He had so many questions. How come this token still had that melody? Why had he been spared? Then he recalled Father’s request, to reach the Empress with song. He closed his eyes shut. He had failed at that.

“There’s still hope, Bard,” Anjur hummed, leaning back. Bard looked back at this man and then down at the token in his hands.

“I don’t even know what to hope for,” he almost moaned, voice stifled from holding back his cries. “I’m angry, bitter. I want her to pay. But…” he paused, Father’s melody shifting, reminding him of his responsibilities. Anjur sat up and placed his hand on Bard’s back.

“I’ll be staying this time. Not like I can go back if I wanted to,” he paused looking up at the shattered moon, which drew Bard’s attention skyward. “I bet the Empress is a bit busy right now, though. I left her a present.”

Bard’s brows raised at that. Anjur just grinned.

“She’s waging war on the Sun god and his children. I sent them a message ahead of time, and they are moving fast. The temples are lighting up and she will be quite busy. For now, you have time. Rest here. Feel what you need and learn from it. I know you can reach her, just like you reached Defender and the people of Sal Shefa.”

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

A day passed, then two. Anjur fed Bard some strange foods that he pulled from somewhere. Bard stayed at the ravine, mostly cooped up in the husk of Father tree, holding the token close and sorting through his emotions. His grief ebbed and flowed, anger gave way to hollow calm. He’d lost everything, and wasn’t even sure what to hope for at this point. Without the token, and some company, he likely would have given up. He traced the blacken tokens, his role as the Elder's representative heavy on his heart. They’d trusted him, gave him a song, a purpose. He had to keep going, even if he didn’t know how.

A rustling noise broke the silence, drawing him from his contemplations. Then the sound of massive paws on stone caused him to look around, spotting Anjur who was watching. Bard tensed, moving over and freezing as he saw Anjur look at him with a strange half smile. Bard looked through the shaded brush parted, the trees gave way and a massive wolf like head emerged. Bard’s eyes grew wide as he recognized that shade.

“Kai,” he half whispered.

“It seems, she sent him to find you,” Anjur commented. Bard gritted his teeth. He didn’t doubt Anjur’s ability to protect him. He had watched it the last few days. However, Kai didn’t lunge. Just stayed silent. Anjur put a hand to his chin, thoughtful. Kai bowed his head before taking a step forwards. Bard was shocked at the sight as his eyes met with that shaded Kai. Anjur didn’t do anything as Kai came, humbly, submissively before them. He then bowed his massive frame to the ground and extended a paw that nearly touched, but didn’t quite. Bard looked at Anjur who shrugged. He then knelt down and reached out, hesitating before touching the shadowy paw the wisps of shadow shifted and parted like fur until he touched and Kai moved his head closer, nudging him. No growls, no howls. Just presence.

“Kai…” Bard’s voice broke, as he moved his hand to rub at shaded Kai’s face. Their eyes met. The loyalty was still there, shining through the shadow. Kai shifted, coming closer, comforting with his steady shadowy bulk. Bard’s chest ached. Grief? Yes. But a flicker of hope. If Kai could hold on, maybe Sen and Zak could too.

Anjur watched, a faint smile on his lips. He knelt next to Bard and put his hand on the shoulder again. “See? Even shaded, he still is there. Souls, as powerful as his, don’t fade so easily.” Anjur then moved a hand and a small line of light appeared, and he reached in and pulled out a blackened fiddle, simple, worn, but sturdy and with all its strings. “Play, Bard. Let’s hear Jay’s song. Harmonize with it. It’ll soothe us all. After all, there’s still hope yet.”

“You knew,” Bard said, grabbing the fiddle, and Anjur winked.

“It was a hunch, but it would depend on if he could get here or not.”

The fiddle was grounding with its familiar weight, and Anjur pulled out a bow to match it. He felt so much relief with both in his hands. Music was his life, his bridge, his way to belong. He listened to Father’s melody and then shook his head. He had a different tune in mind. One that would be his own, but could play with Father’s. A song to reach his wife, his son, perhaps stir Kai as well.

He drew the bow across the strings. Anjur’s eyes widened and then softened as the smile became one of peace. Bard didn’t know what came next. The empress was still out there. Her shades could always come through. Kai could lose himself. But playing that song soothed his spirit, allowing him to set those fears aside. Father’s melody joined in, and he was transported back to those days in the woods, playing, learning, struggling and then harmonizing. He continued to play, then changed the melody and joined fully with Father’s song. This song was home, even when all else was gone.