The Song and the Serpent

Adan and Kian spent the morning admiring the Bygone Wall. Hurst interpreted the carvings, recounting tales that Adan had never heard; from the story of Huthnea the wise, a bard who disappeared into the southern wilderness with five weapons of extraordinary power, to the stories of men who attempted to climb the top of the Giths, the highest mountains in Accenoah, and discover what secrets lay in the highest peaks known to men.

When they finally ascended the steps from the lower level and arrived back in the main hall, Adan had learned enough to know how small his knowledge of history truly was. Hurst bid them farewell as he left the hall, and the two of them stood in the archway that led out into the city.

“If I’m not mistaken, you have a promise to keep,” Kian said, glancing at Adan.

It took Adan a second to realize what Kian was referring to. “Oh, yes. Layla.”

“Go find her then,” Kian said with a vague gesturing outward.

“What do you plan to do?” Adan asked.

”I think I’m going to walk among the people here, and maybe find somewhere quiet to get some thinking done.”

Adan nodded. “When and where would you like me to meet you?”

Kian glanced at Adan again. “I’m not going to be the Lord of Farel, Adan, or the Lord of ‘New Esta’. You don’t have to keep acting like my bodyguard.”

”Try and stop me,” Adan replied.

Kian chuckled and shook his head. “That would be an exercise in futility. Very well. We’ll meet back here this evening.”

“Very good. See you then.”

Adan turned and left Kian standing in the archway, making his way to the northern portion of the city.

The afternoon sun beat down on him as he fought through a field of tall grass. By the time he reached a group of a dozen log huts, he felt perspiration on his forehead and back.

It’s very late in the season to be planting food, he thought as he passed through the small village. A handful of women and children stared at him as he meandered through their newly made homes.

I doubt if they will be able to grow enough to feed everyone here. They’re bound to need some other source of food.

Past the small village, Adan entered a grove of ancient oak trees that grew on the banks of a brook; the same brook that he had seen running through the city. Adan hopped from stone to stone, crossing the reservoir and leaving the oak grove behind.

He stood in a recently plowed field that stretched from the brook to the north wall. The unmistakable scent of freshly churned dirt filled the warm air, reminding Adan of early spring rides through the farmlands around Farel as a boy.

More than a dozen women and older children worked in the field, planting seed in the dirt. Five women walked in front with sacks of seed and short sticks, while two young men carried a water trough behind them, made from two parallel saplings and a bucket of leather hung between them. The trough was perforated underneath, allowing water to trickle down onto the recently buried seed. A handful of other young men carried buckets from the brook to the trough, refilling the watering device as needed.

Adan spotted Layla among the ladies planting in the front.

He watched her for a moment as she grabbed a handful of seeds from a pouch at her side and sprinkled it onto the earth. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat as she used the short stick to push the seeds further down into the dirt.

One of the young men spotted Adan standing by the oak grove and pointed at him, saying something to his fellows. The other young men stopped their work for a brief moment and stared at him with wide eyes. Adan ignored them and turned back to the grove of trees behind him. He hunted around on the ground for a fallen branch, and when he had found one of a suitable size, he struck out toward Layla.

When Layla noticed Adan approaching, she straightened and gave him a tired wave. Adan drew near to her, ignoring the awed looks of the other women.

“Need a hand?” Adan asked, showing her the stick he had brought.

“We can certainly use the help,” she replied, wiping sweat from her face.

“Good. I was looking for an excuse to be with you.”

Layla laughed. Her flushed complexion made it difficult to see if she was blushing, but she looked away, brushing her blond hair behind an ear.

The other women exchanged knowing looks before moving ahead of Layla and Adan, giving them a little more privacy. One of them handed Adan a pouch full of seeds before moving on.

“What are we planting?” Adan asked as he fell in step next to Layla.

“This field will be mostly beans,” she replied, resuming her work beside Adan.

Adan began dropping and burying the beans, glancing back to make sure the curious young men behind them weren’t creeping closer in an attempt to eavesdrop.

Layla cleared her throat and glanced over at him. “I’m sorry about…” she paused for a moment to find the right words. “…about everything, I suppose. Farel, your friends there, Rocco, Captain Ryland, everything. It broke my heart to hear Kian describe it.”

Adan heard the sincerity in her voice, and he nodded. “Thank you. I’m sorry about your aunt.”

“Oh, that’s nothing,” Layla said, shaking her head. “It was bound to happen sometime. The journey here was… was just too much for her. She lived on that island her whole life and now… it’s no wonder her mind is failing her. But that’s nothing compared to what you went through. It helps that you’re here now.”

Once again, Layla was putting a good face on her circumstances, but Adan could see pain behind her eyes. The remnants of many burdensome days and nights were as visible to Adan as the sunlit field ahead of them.

“Maybe so. But you still shouldn’t have had to endure it,” he replied.

She nodded and remained silent as she dropped another handful of seeds.

“You’d think it would be more difficult for me when she’s at her worst,” Layla eventually continued. “You’d think it would be hard for me to see her stare into space without responding to anything you say, or when she becomes manic and reaches for things to throw in frustration. But that’s not the hardest part. The hardest part is when she seems herself again; when she looks at me and knows who I am, or when she speaks to me as she used to—.”

Layla choked and her lips pinched together as she held back tears.

Adan remained silent, wanting to reach out and hold her, to let her see how he felt for her, but he was conscious of the watching eyes of the young men behind them and women in front.

Once Layla had composed herself again, she continued: “That’s the hardest part because, for a brief moment, my Aunt is back, but I know that she’s dead already. Imagine what it would be like if you lost someone you love dearly, only for their ghost to keep appearing to you, making you think that they are still alive before dashing your hopes again and again.”

Adan could imagine it, and the thought was disconcerting. “You’ve been very strong,” he said. “I know your Uncle would be proud. My father would be too.”

A small smile touched her lips, and they continued working in silence.

As Adan worked, he tried to find something else to say to Layla, but his brain seemed clouded by the strong emotions he was experiencing. After days of thinking Layla might be dead, and wishing for one more chance to see her, he now found he couldn’t say anything around her.

His mind cast about hopelessly trying to find some subject they could discuss, any subject except the one on the forefront of his mind.

I’m afraid, he realized, to his own surprise. I’ve fought and killed enemy warriors and even faced death in the temple of Undelma, but I can’t bring myself to tell Layla how I feel because I’m afraid.

Why was he afraid? Layla’s behavior the night before and her demeanor now showed nothing but reciprocation for Adan’s feelings. Adan knew that if Kian was standing nearby he would probably smack Adan upside the head for not speaking his mind.

Adan was rescued from his dilemma by the sound of shouting ahead of them. He looked up to see a cluster of huts at the far end of the field, sitting in the shadow of the outer wall. Two-dozen men were sparing in a patch of tall grass that divided the huts from the plowed field.

Corthenu stood watching the practicing men and barking instructions. Adan couldn’t make out the black-haired leader’s words, but his stern tone could be heard across the field. The men engaged in practicing were dressed like Corthenu, shirtless, although each of them carried a sword.

“Do you know what village he came from?” Adan asked with a gesture.

Layla’s expression darkened when she saw who Adan was pointing to. “He’s the leader of the Othelli. I don’t know much about them. They arrived a day after we did, they keep to themselves, and they practice like that every day. I don’t think Corthenu likes Hurst very much, although I don’t know why he should dislike the Chief Bard.”

“He made that very clear this morning,” said Adan. “Do you know why they wear no coat or tunic?”

Layla chuckled. “Because it’s too hot for them here. The Othelli village was high in the northern mountains. They’re not used to our climate.”

“Where in the northern mountains?”

”I don’t know. They don’t speak very much with people from other villages here, but they brought a skilled blacksmith who can make anything if he has the right materials. There’s only one other blacksmith in the city, but he isn’t as skilled so we keep the Othelli smith very busy.”

Adan grunted and resumed his work.

Once again, he frantically tried to find a subject they could discuss, anything but the subject on his mind.

Think of something! His mind shouted as the silence grew longer.

“Do you know what Kian plans to do?” Layla asked.

Oh, thank the Maker!

”About what?”

“About what he said this morning. He didn’t seem to want to stay here in New Esta and try to stay hidden.”

“Oh.” Adan threw another handful of seeds into the dirt before responding. “I don’t know, and I don’t think he knows either. We seem bound to fail no matter what happens. Staying here may buy us more time, and more people may join our ranks, but if Hugo takes Threcalax, if the capital of Esta falls, then sooner or later we will be found.”

”Do you really think Hugo can take the capital?” Layla asked.

“Hurst seems to think so, and he’s been right so far.”

”But what do you think?”

Adan was silent as he used his stick to drive more seeds into the earth. ”I don’t know,” he said at length. “But it seems that Hugo’s failure is our only hope. We must have faith in our countrymen and the strength in Threcalax. If they fail, I don’t know how we are to survive.”

As Adan heard himself speak the words, he felt his desire to express his feelings for Layla dissipating.

If I tell Layla how I feel, he thought, and she returns my affection, what then? Would I court her and marry her?

How cruel would it be to marry her, and start a family, only to learn that Esta had fallen and they would all be made into slaves or worse? Was it truly right to start a family when the world was shattering around them? Was he even right to be here, with Layla now, or was he only giving her false hope.

Perhaps I should wait, he thought. Perhaps we ought to know what will happen before we do something that we might regret.

Yes, he would wait. He would wait until he knew that he could keep her safe before telling her. And if they would not be safe, if the worst should happen, then he would wait until their enemies closed in on them. But Adan didn’t want to die without first telling her that he loved her, that he had always loved her.

I will tell her, he thought, when the time is right.

Layla had remained quiet beside Adan, reflecting on what he had said.

“We should have hope that Hugo fails to take the capital,” she said at length, “but that can’t be our only hope. Surely the Creator wouldn’t have us give into despair because our land has been taken by wicked men.”

Adan glanced at her. “What do you mean?”

“Ansel always says that ‘to lose hope is to lose life’. We can endure a great many trials as long as we have hope, but when we have truly lost all hope of deliverance, why continue fighting, or even living? Placing all our hope in the strength of our people may not be so wise then. Kingdoms rise and then fall. That is the pattern of history. If our little kingdom falls, should we despair and die?”

Of course Layla was right.

“Perhaps not all our hope then,” Adan corrected himself. “There is something to be said for people who fight on without hope. I would consider giving my life in battle against the Undelmans to be a good death, even when there is no chance for victory.”

Layla nodded. “There are countless stories to those who refused to give up before the end came. Maybe we are meant to be one of those stories.”

Adan thought of Rocco, refusing to give while in the Temple of Sithril. He had refused to give up, and he had died a noble death, giving his life so that they could escape and warn their people.

A horn blast interrupted his thoughts, a high pitched sound that echoed from wall to wall. Everyone in the field stopped their work when they heard it. The Othelli men practicing in the tall grass paused at the sound.

Adan looked at Layla for explanation.

“A new village is arriving!” She said, excitement in her voice. “Let’s go see.”

She dropped her bundle and began walking briskly toward the gate. Adan followed suit, as did everyone else in the field. Their work would wait until after their curiosity had been satisfied.

Within moments, they had skirted the Othelli village and crossed another plowed field before coming upon a track that ran toward the gate. Adan saw other curious observers making their steady way to the gate as well, eager to catch a glimpse of the newcomers.

As they neared the gatehouse, Adan heard the sound of Calden, the gate-keeper, shouting indistinct words in his coarse voice. Before they could reach the arched opening in the wall, a group of men removed the beam that held the gate shut and pulled the wooden doors open.

The newcomers streamed through the gate, men and women, young and old, practically running into the city.

“Something’s wrong,” Adan said as he watched them enter the city. He saw desperation and fear on their faces.

The curious crowd gathering at the gate split apart to make room for the newcomers as they pooled around the entrance. Adan and Layla moved with the crowd to the right side of the gatehouse archway, trying to get close enough to hear what was being said at the gate.

After several hundred people had passed under the arch and arrived within the city, Adan heard the voice of a man echo inside the gatehouse. The last man to pass through the gate was shouting.

“Close the gates, quickly! There are at least five-hundred enemy warriors pursuing us! They’ll be here by nightfall!”