Song Child

By D.M. Andrews

HER SONG WILL TOUCH MANY, AND SOME IT WILL CHANGE FOREVER.

 

  Lost to both history and legend is the knowledge of when the Crown of Flames last blossomed in the world, but the merchant Vladan will see it blossom again and witness the unfolding destiny of its mysterious custodian, the young girl Devana.

 

  Vladan of Yaruna is vain, cynical, and tortured by memories from his youth. At an unplanned stop after a small mishap on his riverboat, the merchant meets Devana and her sister and in no time at all he's caught up not only in a quest to aid the young girl but also to redeem himself from the guilt of his own past.

 

   Devana must heal a wound inflicted upon the world by the sorcerer Zmekosch who holds power over death itself, but the young girl has a power of her own — the gift of song. A gift that will change Vladan and the world about him forever.

 

 

GENRE: Medieval Slavic Fantasy Novella
AUDIENCE: Teen, Young Adult, Adult
POV: First Person (past tense, secondary protagonist)
RATING: No explicit language/scenes

• Language: English
• Publisher: D.M. Andrews
• Release date: Dec 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223995609

D.M. Andrews

D.M. Andrews is an English author. Check out the website to discover other books by this author.

Book preview

– CHAPTER I –

A Sturgeon and a Sooty Boot

MARYUSHKA, ALL LAUGHTER and smiles, ran through the golden field, only the top of her sky-blue rubakha visible above the autumn’s wheat as she playfully brushed and skimmed the heads with her outstretched hands. She loved the warmth of the sun upon her olive skin. She always had. Her bright eyes flashed at me every time she turned as I tried to keep up, but she moved faster and faster until she became a distant blur of blue in the gold. And then she was gone. I raced forward, my heart thundering in my chest. Then the field came to a sudden end and my feet hit mud, knocking me to the ground...

A SHUDDER ACCOMPANIED by a large dull thud broke my slumber and my eyes flickered open. An earthenware jar rolled back and forth, spilling black beans over the wooden deck. Arising from the narrow berth and shoving the flap aside, I stepped out from under the canopy and found my head in the drooping branches of a willow tree. What on earth’s going on?

Radek decided to ram the northern bank, announced a rotund balding figure dressed in patched leathers stooping over the bow. I don’t think there’s any damage.

It stopped working, Bunda, Radek defended himself, tugging on the tiller to no effect.

Bunda straightened and turned. The tiller or your head, boy?

Radek’s gaunt face twisted in confusion and then resumed its typical expression somewhere between youthful innocence and a total absence of thought. Brushing the branches aside, I approached the stern. Have you been checking the rudder?

Well, um, I checked it earlier. The boy frowned as if trying to remember something. Maybe an hour ago? Maybe two? Or maybe it was this morning before we set off...

I made sure Radek heard my sigh as I looked over the back of the vessel. I’d taken him on without pay a couple of months ago as part of a generous deal to allow his father’s debt to be paid off, but Radek hadn’t exactly proven the most capable of hands. And I had to feed him. Maybe it would be better to send him home and threaten his father with debtors’ prison instead.

As I suspected, the rudder, now near the water’s surface in the shallows of the bank, was thick with oily black blightweed. It could mess with rudders very quickly if you went through a bad patch. And those bad patches had increased as we’d journeyed farther west. The Blighting turned trees black, rotted crops, and sucked the life out of grass and vegetation. And each year it grew worse. Still, it also provided an opportunity for some of us.

A blur of dark grey fur scuttled past my head, light claws briefly making contact with my fur hat, followed by a high-pitched screech of what must’ve been delight. I grabbed the thin rope disappearing into the willow. Oh no you don’t! The creature on the other end howled as the leash went taut. I tried to pull it back to the boat but it had a tight hold on the tree. Bunda, plank!

Bunda put the boat’s plank out to the bank so I could get to the willow without stepping in the mud. I wasn’t going to get my nice boots all dirty. It was Bunda and Radek’s job to get dirty, not mine.

I found the little rascal soon enough. The marmoset clung to one of the willow’s thicker branches, gripping it like grim death. It took some effort to prise it off the tree as it protested with a series of shrill chirps. It was then that I smelled the fire and heard the voices. Peeking through the branches I saw the village. I’d passed it before, of course, but paid it little attention. Such villages had no markets and little money — and thus were of little value to us merchants.

Then, just as I thought I’d come out unscathed, the little rascal decided to claw the fine kaftan I’d put on this morning in preparation for my visit to Halm, a town a little farther down the Rasa. My concern at this not inexpensive apparel being shredded by the marmoset’s small but sharp claws led me to step back. A bad move. My foot slipped off the plank into the water and I grimaced as the cold water spilt in over the top of my equally not inexpensive black leather boot. Radek looked at me, open-mouthed, uncertain what to say. Bunda just laughed. He threw a hand out to help me up. I gave him the marmoset instead and stepped onto the bank.

I’m going to dry my boot. I nodded my head in the direction of the voices. Might grab a little something to eat over that fire too if there’s anything going. I could smell food cooking now that I was on the bank.

A smile spread beneath Bunda’s short walrus moustache. Sounds good! Maybe I could—

Maybe you and Radek could shorten the marmoset’s leash, clear all the blightweed off that rudder, and pick up my black beans?

I didn’t look back to see the expression on their faces.

THE VILLAGE CONSISTED of a half dozen plain wooden buildings and a few tents, none of them large. Despite its small size and obvious lack of wealth, it was clean. The grassy field upon which it stood, and the trees surrounding it, remained remarkably free of any signs of the Blighting. The fire pit occupied the middle of the little settlement. Several pots hung over it sending their mouth-watering aroma across the field. Bunda could probably smell it by now. Serves him right for not supervising Radek properly.

My foot squelched in my boot as I made my way over to the fire. I’d bought the boots from the best cobbler in Yaruna for a small fortune. They were made to last but also looked good. And looking good was important when you were in my trade. I also liked the way they felt. It’d taken me weeks to break them in so I didn’t want the fur-lined leather to warp. Comfort was, after all, almost as important as appearance.

I tugged the boot off, poured the river water out onto the ground, and held it over the fire pit. The light wind changed direction and engulfed me and the boot in a billow of sooty smoke. Coughing, I changed my position and bumped into a young lady with a single braid of dark hair hanging down the side of her plain white rubakha.

My apologies. I blinked a few times to get the smoke out of my eyes.

She frowned deeply, looked at the boot in my hand and then at the wet silk stocking clinging loosely to my foot. Fall in the river, did you?

I was on my boat er... fishing, I lied.

She raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, casting an eye over my expensive clothing. Right, if you say so. She then grabbed one of the smaller pots from above the fire with a cloth and walked away.

For sturgeon, I added, watching the woman disappear into one of the tents. I cringed inside before the flap was even down. What did I say that for? Sturgeon? Really?

After a couple of attempts at trying to get my boot in the right position, I realised all I was doing was ensuring it would reek of smoke for the next week.

Will you take breakfast with us? came the familiar terse voice. I turned to see the woman with the braid again and smiled.

I’ll take that as a yes, she said and I realised I’d not answered.

Yes, thank you. That’s very kind, I added quickly so as to not come across as a complete ingrate.

She had me follow her into the tent I’d seen her disappear into earlier. A table occupied most of the space, its rough surface home to bread, boiled eggs, cheese, a little meat, as well as condiments, fruit, and a couple of jugs of milk. Bunda was going to be so jealous.

I was greeted with a tight smile from an older woman standing at the far end of the table. By her side stood a young girl in a grey rubakha, of but fourteen summers judging by the single yellow ribbon in her long jet-black hair.

My mother, Rina, said the woman who’d led me in, and this is Devana, my sister. She turned toward me. And I am Nastasya.

I am Vladan of Yaruna, a merchant, and I’m most thankful for your generous hospitality. I tried to sound respectable but it dawned upon me as I removed my hat and tipped my head to them that I was still half barefoot and carrying a wet boot.

If you allow me, I can dry your boot properly without you or the boot getting covered in soot? I was sure Nastasya was suppressing a smile as she said the words.

I thanked her and gave her the boot but before I could