The Call

By J.E. Tabor

An orphan with no memory of a previous existence, Sharene had been left in the gentle wilderness outside of Riddled Cliff, a city built out of the rocky valley nearby, to build for herself a life as simplistic as it was solitary. The reason for her exile was her voice, cursed with the ability to perform magic with only the sound of her singing. Untamed, it could spell disaster, and yet the latent talent could never be withheld for long. During one such quiet song that she sang Sharene encounters an enchanted voice, whose eccentricities and wildly liberal view of her supposed talent throws Sharene’s perspective into confusion. This strange being brings her to the biggest question of her life: is her Voice really a curse, or could it in time actually become a gift?

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.E. Tabor
• Release date: Apr 7, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311959607

Book preview

The Call

Published by J.E. Tabor at Smashwords

Copyright 2015 J.E. Tabor

Cover Illustration by AshHavynn

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Acknowledgements

I would like to thank Cindy Hansen, Dagny Griffin, and the members of Writer’s Bloc for their patient encouragement in the earlier years.

All of my alpha and beta readers for their invaluable feedback.

My family for allowing me to take this opportunity.

And my mother, who saw it all along.

The music continued to play after Sharene woke. Her teeth chattered around the taste of copper; she’d bitten the corner of her tongue again. Stiffened joints unfurled, shaking fingers clutched the round seashell strung by soft leather at her neck. The habit eased her short breaths, but it took its time calming her fluttering heart, and it never silenced the music.

For that, there was nothing to do but sit by the Humming Rock.

While Sharene donned heavy boots, her movements triggered a trilling cackle-purr that escalated into a whine from outside her shack. A welcome distraction from the melody whispering in her head, just beneath monotonous pattering of rain.

Aven? she whispered, reaching from her cot to push aside the fluttering animal skin draped over the entryway and allowing a shadow to scurry inside, the crackle-purr more insistent as the fox rolled against her boots and the floor. Aven smeared mud everywhere in his enthusiasm.

Didn’t bothering finding your own hole this time, did you? Sharene asked.

He scampered around the small space before darting out again into the misty night. Sharene wrapped her stiff shawl around her shoulders then followed the chattering animal outside.

Despite the downward slope over slick black rock, Sharene’s gait was brisk, her eyes fixed on the short path she walked with practiced precision. Slip once and your rear will kindly remind you never to make that mistake twice. Aven crouched at the bottom, tail swishing and a wide fox grin on his face, eyes squinting with glee when Sharene bent to scratch behind his ear.

Wondering where we’re going? I think you already know. She grinned at his blissful silence. A moment of affection, then she stood and Aven’s head lifted. To the Humming Rock.

The fox leapt to his feet, scurrying ahead of her and disappearing around the other side of her winter barren hillock, where he waited in jittery anticipation.

Sharene rounded the hillock and stopped at the jagged wound in the ground at its base, an opening into one of the many tributaries of the extensive tunnel system in the area. She sat on the edge and eased herself down, sliding into the short fall onto the puddle-pocked rock below. Aven didn’t follow; he never followed her down here, but he did dart into the entrance overhead and peer down at her.

Go on, to the Humming Rock, Sharene said.

Aven vanished.

More water. It dripped from the cracks as Sharene navigated the tight underground tributary, humming to herself to generate a bit of heat until the stale water and colder stillness greeted her entrance into the proper underground tunnels. Two steps into utter darkness, Sharene stretched out her hand, fingertips meeting the familiar left-hand wall. Using this orientation technique, as she had for years, she also listened to the erratic water drips, the whistle of breeze through rocks to her right, and the deceptive promise of silence ahead. From all of that, Sharene knew exactly where she was, and where she wanted to go.

Ten feet ahead Sharene took a sharp right down another passage that led, after about ten minutes of walking, towards fresh air. The mist of rain reached into the tunnel and escorted her out into