The next morning our group was gathered in the do. I'd been introduced to a far more awake Archides, the Whispering Kestrel was very thankful to us all. That or was keen to be pet, I'm not sure which. Still, I was happy to give out pets and attention, especially as my fussing and refusal to sit only intensified the stares of my companions.
“So Lance you're sure that you shouldn't be providing your update first?” I received a friendly kick from the Squire in response. Lance had told us she had news from Fosburg for us, she looked happy so I could only guess it was good news.
“Don't try and weasel your way out of this one. This is perhaps the only ti I've known you to not want to share a story. I could offer you a round of enthusiastic sparring.” Bors chuckled as I winced. He was busy getting ready the ingredients for our breakfast.
“Sure I don't have ti for breakfast first. Ow, who threw that.” Gring whinnied at , the normally distant Pegasus was sticking close to us, still occasionally watching Gawain. His expression was unreadable, that might just be the long face though.
“Fine, fine. I shall begin.” I sat and tuned my lute. I noticed the instrunt only ever needed tuning at those monts when I needed a mont. Offering ti to gather my mind, or to set the scene. Otherwise, it was always perfectly in tune.
As I got my head situated I glanced over my audience. Gaz had fetched everyone a drink of water. Bors and Lance were staring at with wonder. It was as if I was a puzzle about to finally solve itself. Gawain, looking noble as ever wasn't looking at but my lute. He hadn't asked to touch my gift from the Lady yet but it was only a matter of ti. I could feel his reverence.
I gently ward up my voice and Bors pointed accusingly at with the frying pan. “Did you write a song about yourself?”
“I wrote a song about you too.”
“That's different—” Bors began before Lance elbowed him in the ribs.
“Don't distract him, he's baiting you. Get on with it, Taliesin.”
“Ah, another plan foiled. Well then my noble audience, you offer such attention it seems I must rise to the occasion. I have a song, a tale for you all.” Last night I'd got little sleep, besides the now complete challenge of eating all the beast cores, corrupting a good amount of my pathways. It was worth it, I could once again survive a single death. Rising from the ashes of my old life anew.
Yet the power to return from the dead did nothing to help this worry. What did I tell them? I'd offered up my past casually, so I'd already told Bors and Lance knew more than most. Even Gaz had been given so insight. Still telling the whole story was all but unthinkable, yet leaving out too much would leave my past even more suspicious than it already was. My soul churned at the prospect of sharing any part of , I would happily put it off, even as my mory pecked at reminding of the relief I’d felt in sharing my history before.
So, I'd settled on the idea of a song. It would cover the whole story but would allow them the space to ask questions. I could answer the questions, and I could also leave much of the rest unsaid. I didn't want to delve into much of my life in detail. They could seek to explore fragnts if they wished, but I would not be drawn into another recollection like I had for the Lady.
“I present to you the tale of Taliesin. If you interrupt, I shall cease my singing.” I warned. I felt unsettled enough in sharing my secrets. The ‘Harkley’ scarred part of told that any form of trust was foolish, and I did not wish to battle it repeatedly. The lute was finished tuning, even if I perhaps felt I needed a mont longer. I took a deep breath and then began, letting the music flow between my fingers.
The tune was one I'd cobbled together from a few others, a llow tune that still held a beat and pace. Not maudlin, rather it aped songs they all would know from childhood, a lody of mory. Notes of nostalgia rolling out from beneath my fingers.
“Born to a Lady of Artoss fair,
And to a cunning father with flaming red hair,
Behind her husband's back, he snuck,
A man of wit and charming pluck.”
I began with the core of my existence, my unusual parentage. I knew little about my father, apart from the colour of his hair, and his clear fae heritage. My mother had always been evasive on the subject and was gone, long before I was old enough to push the subject.
My father did not return. My mother, sold by her family to a collection of monsters, relished the brief love and kindness he'd brought. And was eternally grateful for the child she'd gained from the union. She refused to share or curse his na, calling his ‘secret blessing’.
She never spoke of those early years. I didn’t even rember the man who thought himself my father, Regus Harkley Senior. I had only one mory from those early years. The fire, our ho being consud by those jealous of his success. He was arrogant and blind enough to give his own na to another’s son, and those sa flaws led to him being betrayed.
“The man who claid to be his dad,
Was fooled by tales both strange and sad,
But fate would twist and siblings' spite,
They slew the father in the night.”
The Harkleys claid to value family, when in fact it was more one man's obsession trickling down. The Patriarch sought to raise powerful mbers of the family, seeking the right gifts and traits as one might raise dogs. My ‘father’ Regus Harkley senior, was in many ways the model hound. That made him a target.
The very traits that made him a model hound made him vulnerable. By all accounts, he was powerful, charismatic, and trusting. It was that trust that allowed to slip into the family unchallenged. It was also the thod by which his brothers led him out on an ill-fated hunt. Slain by a ‘Noxian panther’ in the night. A strange axe-wielding panther.
I looked about, my audience was captured in my tale of woe and treachery. I could see Gawain looking at my face, no doubt cataloguing my Artoss features, which ca through more clearly since my rebirth. Bors had grinned as I'd ntioned my red hair, he alone knew my heritage's power, and I hoped that my subtle reference to it in the first verse would be enough of a hint that I wished to keep it hidden.
It was the ti for the big reveal. My allies were rightly worried about my extensive knowledge of our enemy. I trusted I had done enough. I had explained my past, and who I was really related to. Now, it was ti to reveal the secret I loathed to tell. I'd even worked into the chorus, I could not be tempted to hide my secrets.
“Oh, the tale of Taliesin,
With a noble start and hidden kin,
Triumphing over the vile Harkleys' hate,
He forged his path, defied his fate.”
At the ntion of the Harkleys, I saw both Bors and Gawain jerk. Gawain's eyes were on my face again and I saw him shift. Was he grabbing his blade? I didn't know, I didn't care. I would trust my audience to make their judgent. Lance and Gaz had little reaction, the Harkleys were just another family, and one that mostly resided on Albion. With little presence on the continent, they likely wouldn’t understand the evil I was invoking. A blessing, with luck they would not tar with their vile deeds.
“Mother and son fled to the city of Portesmud,
Through streets of stone and paths of mud,
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Lived for a while but curse took his mother,
Left alone, he faced another.”
My mother was not half as trusting as her husband and sensing the shifting winds had spirited us away. Our forr ho, consud in a tornado of fire, had long escape routes carved out. I was only three at the ti. My ti in the port city had been so of the best. For those few years, I knew nothing but our small ho in Portesemud. Where my mother plied small alchemy cures, hiding from both Harkley and Artoss alike.
My earliest mories were of helping her with alchemical works. I would watch and stare. Helping her with all she'd let . Which was not much and with good reason. It was alchemy that claid her life. Making do with poor substitutes, contaminated supplies, and risky brews. Such was her dedication to her quest to keep hidden she never sought out her family, nor revealed her power in case attention descended upon us. I was pleased she never lived to see trapped, to see her sacrifice wasted.
My mind turned to the worst day of my life. The ti when the agents of the Harkleys, guided by Oracles and dreams ca upon my hovel. I was fourteen when they found and had recently awoken my Smoke gift. I'd been without my mother for three years. I'd survived by working as an assistant to the few Stone rank alchemists, their brews were little better than snake oil. For a brief mont, it had seed like a dream to escape the loneliness and poverty. Yet, I'd rembered my mother's words, ‘Never trust a Harkley.’
“One day found by those who lied,
Claiming kinship, they spied and pried,
He followed them with wary eyes,
Knowing well their hidden lies.”
I looked up to see my audience sitting solemn and silent. I could see Bors was in deep thought as was Lance. Gawain was still fidgety. Gaz was perhaps the strangest, he was staring with angry eyes into the fire. He may feel my loathing for my abductors, but I didn't try and hide it. I would not try and hide it again if I had a choice.
"Awakened then, his power strong,
Held captive where he didn't belong,
He knew they'd find his heritage false,
So he danced a careful, cunning waltz."
That verse glossed over the nightmare that was my ti as Regus Harkley. Forced to gain power, to cultivate and grow as fast as possible. I was just another hound, a salve for the Patriarch's overindulgence in family battles. Allowing the kind of conflict that had claid my father had left him with too few pawns for the coming gas. I was called a ‘long lost son,’ but treated like a calf raised for slaughter.
My terror at having my powers discovered, of being bonded to the family forever more, or slain outright for treachery I was the product of but had no part in. How I'd pushed myself to find a path to survive, a way to escape. I didn’t want to dwell on it.
I let the chorus ring out. I thought of the laughing relatives, the beatings disguised as ‘pointers’. One of my happiest monts was the day I worked out how I could survive. By polluting my channels and not advancing I could hide my heritage. The price? I would never be a cultivator proper, I rembered how I laughed, knowing that was only a bonus. What did I want with this cesspit of humanity?
“He poisoned himself, but not to die,
To feign the truth, to fool the eye,
Worked hard to plot his grand escape,
At last he found it, a marriage of fate.”
I was not going to discuss the blood curse, or how an assassination attempt by a jealous rival during a hunt had shown my thod of poisoning myself with impurities was my salvation. I did not linger on how I pushed the fault for my clogged pathways onto the competing family mbers who wished to claim as a tool. There was no need to explain, how I artfully created a persona of just the right amount of value. Balancing it, so my captors would not slay for wastefulness, but not rising up so much as to gain aningful attention.
Was I proud of my wit and skill? How I'd manipulated people ranks above ? Indeed I was. But celebrating those details ant thinking about them, and that was not sothing I could manage without revisiting the grim mories that ca with them. Better to focus on the good, the song gained a bounce, a dance to it, as I neared the mont of my freedom.
“He escaped the many knives of his wife-to-be,
Through shadowed paths, he fled to be free,
Stumbled upon the lady of the lake,
In moonlit glen, he danced in her wake.
I didn't want any of them, Gawain in particular, to forget that I had t the Lady of the Lake. I was revealing much, and only the backing of those sapphire eyes would serve to protect , to prove I was not a Harkley. None wanted to find those eyes settling upon them for interfering with her plans. I paired this with another round of the chorus.
The chorus this ti felt like a celebration of my escape. Still, a couple of verses remained. There were things I wished to make clear to my audience who sat on the edges of their stone seats.
“Given a new na, he was sent to sleep,
Woke with a sword that could sing and weep,
Stumbled upon Bors, purpose unclear,
Even as destiny that drew ever near.”
I thought it best to touch on the fact my na was given to by the Lady. I didn't want it to pop up later and be accused of being a changeling again. Clearing up that Bors was a chance encounter, one engineered by the Lady, but not so task I was pressed was also important to . We were all getting dragged into destiny, I for one wanted no accusations that I was pulling people in under orders.
That verse done I saw the group relaxing, sensing the end of the story. Ti to wrap it up.
“Oh, the tale of Taliesin,
With a noble start and hidden kin,
He dances on the strings of fate,
What path will he take? On that, we must wait.”
I let the last notes play out and silence descended on the group.
Bors spoke first. “I think the Ballad of Bors is better.”
“Agreed. Who does he think he is writing a song about himself? Just because he t the Lady.” Lance chid in, a false smile hiding the many questions she must have. I appreciated the effort.
“No, if he’s an Artoss this makes sense. This is pretty standard for them, didn't their patriarch commission a giant nude statue of himself?” Gaz chid in, trying to banter even if he looked pale. It made sense he'd bring that up. My mother’s family was far better known on the continent than on Albion. The Artoss were notorious for their oddities.
“I an, I am technically an Artoss. I don't really consider myself a son of Artoss though.” Even if it was what my mother called in secret. Reggie, her little son of Artoss. They'd betrayed her, and . Besides I was no great fan of family. My mother was different, she counted as sothing different. Besides if I embraced the Artoss na it'd feel hollow, another misstep in putting my old identity behind , I had to part with ‘Reggie’. It was a nickna I'd only tolerated from a few during my captivity. In recent tis I’d only ever enjoyed being called it by Sephy.
“I know your real na,” Gawain said, imdiately killing the mood. I knew he'd be the problem but I wasn't expecting this. I could feel my hackles rise, I needed to make one thing clear.
“You do, it is Taliesin. A na given to by Lady herself. She agreed with that whatever na you are thinking is not a true reflection of the soul beneath. What you may an is that you think you know the alias I hid under. I am Taliesin, I do not mind you sharing such details, but it was never a na, it was a mask.” Raw emotion poured out of . If I had begun to cultivate death with those emotions coursing through it would be enough to drive us all to madness.
Gawain flinched back from . I still didn't quite understand what he thought of but so far no one was getting violent.
“I have many questions,” Bors said, but unfortunately Gawain had recovered and continued to ruin the mood.
“Taliesin, I think it’s important to clarify. Am I right in thinking you were known as Regus Harkley? A man I know was bound by the Harkley’s blood curse?”
“Does everyone know about the blood curse? The Harkleys seed to think it was a secret but you're the second person who knew about it off-hand.” That tickled , they often boasted in private about how it was their ‘hidden weapon’.
“Blood curse?” Gaz asked, the angry stare from earlier returning at full force.
“It's sothing the family is famous for, they like fire and blood cultivators. They have so curse given to them by the Divine Cultivators which ans that if anyone steps out of line they die as all their blood is forced from them." I offered, I now understood the issue, he still imagined bound by it.
"It’s how the Ray of Bonds keeps everyone in line. I had heard it’s all but inescapable and always fatal, compelling all to follow their Patriarch’s orders.” Gawain was looking worried.
“How did I escape the blood curse? Well if you must know…”I paused as if mulling over how to explain it, before settling on. “I got better.”
“Pardon?”
“It’s not sothing I’ll be going into. The sa goes for why I look completely different. If you wish to know, I suggest you ask the Lady.” I t Bors’ eyes. And he nodded, understanding the secret about my bloodline remained a secret for him alone. The bigger man was nodding to himself before he paused and pointed a finger at accusingly.
“Wait, that ans you're the one who married Maeve Chox.” ntioning the granddaughter of the high lord of this part of the realm drew out a cough from both the local Squires.
“What the unseelie fuck?” Lance looked at in horror. Oh yes, they’d already been worried about the Artoss. Now she might be worrying about my position as a relative or enemy of her Liege Lord. I waved my hands to calm her.
“We never got married. I had run away well before that could happen. Good thing that I did, that whole thing was a total trap and let tell you, she did not make escaping it easy. The song did not convey the truly astounding amount of cutlery she threw at .” That did not seem to calm Lance down. Maybe I should explain my hidden notes, or how I'd saved her from the ice? As I pondered that Bors slapped his thigh and grinned.
“I knew you and Percy would get along and I was right. You're her Reggie, right?” Lance was shunted to the back of my mind as every ounce of my attention latched onto the big man. There were only two won who'd ever have called ‘their Reggie’, and one was my mom. I felt my brain begin to lt as I struggled to picture how this related to Sephy before I groaned, an awful sense of deja vu settled upon .
“Bors, tell exactly. What is Percy's full na?”
“Persephone, often referred to as ‘Hopes End’. I'm right aren't I!” He was grinning to himself, even as my brain slowly collapsed into a puddle. I'd been foiled by the sa trick twice, a simple shortening of the nas had left blind to the truth before .
That sha was washed away though by the rising elation. A giddy dance crawled over every inch of my body. Sephy was close, I could actually find her. Not only did I know where she was, but I didn’t have to worry about infecting her with this destiny nonsense, she was already a part of it. It was a selfish thought but a happy one.
Better than all that if Bors was to be believed she referred to as ‘hers’. My motivation for the next leg of the journey was redoubled. I'd play bagpipes naked atop a raging bear if that was what was required. To be reunited with her was a fitting reward for the trials I had been put through.
“Okay so maybe in hindsight I should've gone first.” Lance interrupted my daydreaming. She was looking uncharacteristically worried. It reminded of when she'd t the Lady.
“Lance?”
“So we should probably leave, like now.” The Squire was starting to throw things into her storage ring.
“Lance, what do you an?” I asked, the others looking equally worried.
“So my mother had good news. And while it's good for Fosburg, I'm not so sure how good it is for you. Get packing, co on.” She nudged Gaz, who looked at the breakfast that never was but agreed and also started to pack, using his newly acquired spatial ring, trusting his friend.
“You had worried for a mont there, I thought you were going to say there were Harkleys about.” That would’ve explained her worry, but I couldn’t imagine them being ‘good news’ in any context.
“No, it’s the other unfathomably powerful families you are sohow involved with. Maeve Chox is in Fosburg, and while she's helping out with the divine cultivators, she was also asking so questions about you. That and a Knight of Artoss was also there, though he didn’t ask any questions about you it seems like too much of a coincidence.” She
The group looked at . I sucked at my teeth. “Sounds like a problem for future Taliesin. Let’s go save Sephy and Arthur, or Arty and Percy. There’s a giant bear to distract and Divine Cultivators to beat silly. Let’s get going!”
Quietly, as the others hurried to break camp I muttered to myself, “Future Taliesin better not get stabbed for this'’.
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