Chapter 5 - Songbird Slips the Cage

Two hours after Elanor fell asleep, comfortable in a bed she’d been denied for more than two years, she was awoken by shuffling in the street outside her safe house. She peered carefully through the windows, careful to stay hidden herself.

She checked the lock once more and hunkered down, and just in time. Guards from Goldenvale’s manor were running through the streets in a panic, shaking the doors of every store and house along the street.

She snuck silently to the back of the small storefront and hid behind a desk, listening intently. She’d only been there for seconds before a guard rattled the door so violently that the lock mechanism unlatched, and the door swung open.

Shitty locks… Sheesh…

Elanor at least had pulled her dagger out of its sheath, and was ready for what might come.

The guard stepped inside, and was sniffing the air.

Fuck, she thought, he smells the cheese and wine from last night…

She looked from her hidden vantage, and recognized the guard. He was one of them who’d taken particular pleasure in the beatings when he was assigned. He had even groped her a few times, much to her disgust.

Her blood boiled as she watching him poke around.

He turned his back and was moving toward the bad, when she focused on him.

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Manor Guard, human
Level 13

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He kept rifling around in the messy shop, but if he looked hard enough, he’d find her instruments. She had to do something.

An idea came to her in an instant, and took just as long to execute her plan.

She gripped the blackened steel dagger in her hand and engaged her Staccato Step skill, appearing directly behind him and stabbing down in an arc toward his neck.

But the guard was well-trained, and he moved instinctively. He had sensed the movement and swung his arm around to block. Her dagger cut deep into the muscles of his forearm, but her surprise attack had failed.

She looked up into his face, and saw recognition. A grotesque smile crossed his face.

“You fucking cut me, bitch? You’re going to pay for that with your li—”

She dropped to the ground, attempting to roll to the side and find another attack angle, but he brought both fists down in a brutal hammer blow right onto the center of her upper back, slamming her face-first into the dusty shop floor.

She coughed hard, but she’d grown used to pain.

See, that was the thing about beating someone every single day for years on end. They grow used to the pain. They develop a clarity and the ability to use it for better focus.

Clear-headed as ever now, Elanor sliced to the side with her dagger and cut cleanly through his left Achilles tendon, causing him to fall to the ground next to her, cursing loudly.

He swung his right fist down and connected with her cheek. She felt and heard bones crack under the weight and moment of the guard’s metal gauntlet, and blood began to flow freely from her nose.

Meanwhile, the monster of a man continued his nonstop stream of insults and degradations, his shouts growing louder by the minute as he tried to stand again.

She needed to end this before they drew more attention from other guards which were certainly out looking for a mass murderer right now.

She rolled onto her feet in a crouching position, and with a small leap into the air for the extra momentum, she held her weapon in both hands, bringing it straight down into the center of his back. Her strike passed just to the left of his spine, through his ribs and pierced the soft vital organs beneath.

He gurgled a few more curses, but didn’t live long.

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You have slain Manor Guard, human, Level 13.
360 experience points have been awarded.

Magnum Opus Progress: 9.4%

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Elanor fell back, breathing heavily.
That’s two, she thought. Two killing blows to the heart. Maybe the Fates really are with me tonight.
She stared at the dripping dagger in her hand, then wiped the blood from her cheek with the back of her sleeve. It wasn’t skill. Not really. She’d never had a day of combat training in her life.
Still, both strikes had landed true.
Don’t question it, she told herself. Just survive.

She stood and shut the door again, this time ensuring the lock caught properly. Then she dragged the corpse away from the entrance and covered his body with old crates and debris strewn around the abandoned storefront.

Then she took her instruments to the back of the place and hid them under more piles of junk. She threw more debris on top of the bed, too. There was no way she was getting any sleep now.

She hunkered down and listened intently to the echo of boots and shouts outside, waiting for this all to pass.

Is this who I’ve become now?
The Nocturne of Silence…

At least she still had her music.

Her thoughts swirled and by the time dawn finally arrived, the search had moved to another area of the sprawling capital city.

Only then did she lean back against the wall and allow herself, just for a moment, to breathe.

Closing her eyes, she meditated until she heard someone wrestling with the lock again. She slid her dagger silently from its sheath and crouched in the shadows.

A hooded figure stepped inside the storefront and gingerly closed the door behind them.

A whisper, barely audible: “Songweaver? Are you here?”

He pulled his hood down, and scanned to the right and left, wrinkling his nose at the scent of blood as he spotted the well-hidden guard corpse.

Elanor tentatively stood, dagger still in hand, and the man’s gaze snapped to her.
“Ah, there you are,” he said. His voice was calm and reassuring. “Looks like you had a bit more action last night. Are you hurt? I have healing—”

“No, thank you. I’m fine.” She looked down at herself. “I got blood on these robes, though and I don’t have a change of clothes.”

“Right! I almost forgot.” He offered a small bow and held out a sack.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Songweaver. I’ve been looking forward to this day for a long time. These are traveling clothes. They will help keep you blend in while we smuggle you out of Myrrindel. I’ll turn while you change.”

She took the bag from his outstretched hand and began disrobing. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at his back.

“How do I know I can trust you? And how do you know about my title? I’ve never told anyone… I’m not sure what this is about.”

The man, still respectfully facing the door, explained.
“You’ll get more answers soon. For now here’s what I’m cleared to say. First, your title and unique fusion of gifts has been foretold for generations. We’ve been searching for you for years. Decades, even.”

She slid out of the ruined bardic robes and began pulling on the clothes he’d brought. A soft tunic and breeches of loose-woven cotton, designed for movement. Even the tunic had discreet slits where the hooks of her dagger sheath nestled cleanly. Someone had thought of everything.

“I can’t believe I’m anything that special. I know my music is good, but that’s not prophecy…”

“That’s exactly what it is. You must realize what you pulled off last night. You composed a song fueled by nothing but grief and righteous fury, and killed over a hundred men simply by playing it. Not only that, all of them were many, many times your level. That kind of power isn’t just rare, it’s mythical.”

She finished getting dressed and slipped her feet into the sandals provided.
“I’m done dressing now. But please, just call me Elanor. I don’t know what to say. I’m just a girl.”

The man turned around and she met his gaze.
“I’m Raven. In the open, we use codenames for safety. So for now, I’ll just call you Songbird. Let’s turn the Lord’s cruel joke into your armor.”

A pause, then he smiled gently.
“See… last night, you killed everyone left in Myrrindel who knew your true name. Now your legend can grow untethered to all of this. And we don’t even have to forge a false identity.”

Elanor said nothing, and he continued.
“But first, we need to get you out of the city. You’ll spend the next several years training both of your classes, and when you’re ready, we’ll engineer your reemergence onto the grand stage of Allovia.”

Raven studied her for a moment, his eyes moving up and down and nodding.
“What’s missing here… Ah!” He pulled a hood out of a satchel slung over his shoulder. “Wear this, and keep it low over your face. Tuck your hair back inside. Good. Just like that.”

Then he looked around.
“Now, gather your instruments. I’ll help carry them.”

She took them out and handed the harp and flute to him, holding her father’s lute close to her chest.

“Good,” he said, his hand on the doorknob. “Wait here a moment while I make sure the street is clear. It’ll take us an hour to get to the docks, and then we’ve got a four-day voyage at sea. Once we’re on the ship, you’ll be able to relax. Stay close until then.”

Elanor nodded, and after he waved her out, she followed him into the early morning fog.

By the time they arrived at the docks, the city was in full hustle mode and the air was clear. The air carried the scent of salt and fish, and the wind had picked up nicely. The weather appeared perfect for sailing.

Raven handed a parchment roll to the quartermaster standing next to the gangway of a ship heavily laden with barrels, crates and lacquered chests. A group of bearded men were hauling more onto the ship as they spoke.

“All looks good. Your quarters are belowdecks.”

Dismissed by the man, they boarded the ship and settled in for a journey that would, once again, change Elanor’s life.

She didn’t look back.

As the ship slipped from its moorings and the sails caught the wind, gulls circling overhead, Elanor Veralyn felts the weight of Myrrindel finally begin to fall away.