The Guilded Cage, Ch 10

Song Gone Silent

There were twenty eight people in the caravan traveling from St Almar to the Farmlands, and yet Clarke, as usual, chose to sit alone.  His aloofness could easily have been attributed to the early hours of the morning, or the fact that he'd volunteered to take the pre-dawn watch, or even the fact that many presumed that he was stand-offish since few others knew how to understand him; injuries to his throat had rendered him mute and not many folks learned how to communicate with gestures.  Although any of the presumptions could have been true enough, the primary reason Clarke chose to sit alone was because he needed time to think.

For most folk, the month of Dawnstar, fourth in the year, was a happy one in which they could finally welcome spring.  In Clarke's case, the 2nd day of Dawnstar was one he dreaded because it was the anniversary of everything that had gone wrong in his life.  It was the day he was cursed and the day he was blessed; the day he had been wounded in more ways than he could count.  It was the day of his resurrection-- metaphorical and, in some ways, literal.  And, every decade, it was a day of great change.  It had been nine years and three hundred and sixty four days since the last day of change, and dawn was right around the corner.

Deep in thought, the Wolf raised a paw, running his index finger and thumb across the large scar that ran from his left jawline to his right collar bone; his thumb started on his jaw and his index finger at his collar bone and they met together on his throat.   She had very nearly killed him with that swipe, and she could have easily had she meant to but no, the attack that had simultaneously taken his voice and his left eye hadn't been a killing blow... merely a telling one.  He'd worn those wounds ever since.

The scarred wolf drew his paw from his neck to his face, middle finger making a slow, steady circle around the orbital of his empty eye socket.  Healers had long-since fused his eyelids closed so as to limit the unsettling nature of his torn eye staring out lifelessly; it was an improvement in all reasonable ways since restoring his vision was out of the question... not that he hadn't tried.  Letting out a sigh, the wolf gazed at the faintest hint of light peeking out above the eastern horizon; over the years he'd tried many things to undo the events of that day, but it was all for not.

He was pulled from his thoughts as a black, furry shape detached itself from the shadows and a large, raven-colored four-legged wolf loped over to join him.  Wren was a majestic creature, a fine lupine specimen who had traveled with Clarke and his group for several years and, with Wren in close proximity, that meant the wolf's caretaker was not far away.  Almost as if summoned by Clarke's thoughts alone, the Human, a rugged looking, blonde haired man named Emanuel stepped into view.  "Morning, Clarke.  I guess we didn't have any trouble last night, eh?"

Clarke scooted to the side, making room on the rock he'd chosen as a seat, and offered up several gestures with a paw, welcoming his party member to join him.  --There is space here, Emanuel.--

From there, the Beast-Kin pulled out his lute, resting it in his lap.  Before starting to play it, however, he reached over and rubbed Wren behind an ear; other than Emanuel, Clarke was the only other person Wren usually let touch him.  His companion took a seat, joining the Wolf with gazing out across the horizon. "Gonna be a beautiful day today... we should reach the Farmlands by noon... which is a good thing since Fang's getting restless-- he wants to head out toward that one town site... what was it called again?"

As the historian of the group, Clarke had a better understanding of the locations that used to be Old Kingdom settlements.  He responded in sigh, using only one paw as the other gently plucked at the strings to his lute. --Midland On Heights--

Emanuel chuckled, reaching out to pat the Beast-Kin on the shoulder. "Right... funny names the Old Kingdom had.  But, then again, I guess they'd think the Holy Empire's naming conventions would be just as odd if they were here today, right?"

Clarke shrugged in response to the question, returning his paw to Wren's head; the black wolf had laid down by that point and his tail offered some lazy wags.  Letting out a long sigh, the Beast-Kin glanced again to the horizon, mind returning to the last song he'd sung before the fated event that took his voice, long before he'd met Emanuel and joined the Naysayers, one of the more well-known adventuring groups in St Almar.  It was sometimes hard to believe that Clarke had found a place to belong for almost eight years, but, with the second of Dawnstar approaching, that realization was all too real.

Clarke Baysong had been a prominent performer back in the early years of his life, when he'd wandered the streets of his home town, singing, dancing, flirting, performing, and merrymaking.  His tail wagged far freer in those days, and life was... kinder.  Letting out a sigh, he glanced back to his companion, keeping his paw on Wren, and gesturing with the one that had been plucking at the lute.  --Do you know a song with the title My Fair Blue Eyed Love?--

Emanuel shook his head.  "Can't say that I do, Clarke, sorry... but Cina has always had more of a mind for music than I do.  Maybe you can ask her?"

The Wolf shook his head, returning his paw to the lute and he continued plucking at the strings, not bothering to respond to the suggestion; it didn't really matter that much in the long run.  Few things did, in fact.  Letting out a long sigh, Clarke's eyes one again sought the horizon; the sun was almost ready to peek above it, which meant that the 2nd of Dawnstar was very nearly upon them.  Certainly, most scholars always said that days switched over at midnight, but those scholars were more interested in the telling of time and not understanding the ebb and flow of the arcane world.

Even as the sun shone its first rays of light, Clarke closed his eyes, thinking of the music he could once sing to and the importance of song.  His digits danced over the strings of his lute, simultaneously creating the notes to a song but, at the same time, completing complex somatic gestures to help him shape the flow of a spell... magic which would, if discovered by the Lawgivers or the Holy Arcane Order within St Almar, be a death sentence-- after all, only members of the Arcane Order were allowed to cast spells.

Beside him, Emanuel shifted on the rock, shielding his eyes against the first rays of the sun before slowly turning to regard him.  "So... what's YOUR story, friend?"

Having held the final note to the song along with the final gesture to his spell, Clarke let it go, and slowly rotated to face his long time companion.  Gesturing to his neck, the Wolf explained with his paws  --Sorry.  I do not speak.--

The Human raised an eyebrow.  "Wow... that looks like one heck of a battle scar... Good thing I understand field sign.  I take it you're our back-up for guard duty, huh?"

Despite the pain of not being recognized by a friend of so many years, Clarke swallowed the grief and offered a smile, even going out of his way to force his tail to wag just enough to be genuine as he responded to Emanuel's question. --The caravan wanted at least five and said that your group only had four.--

The blonde ranger smiled. "Well... five if you count Wren there and--" Emanuel paused, looking down at Wren who remained by Clarke's legs, happily lounging with him. "Well I'll be damned... he doesn't usually take to people like that."

The bard nodded calmly before responding. --Many animals treat me like an old friend.--

It wasn't a lie... not precisely.  The curse that had changed Clarke's life (just as much as the scars given to him by the same caster) did not affect animals in the same way it affected Humans and other Humanoids; even if none of the other members of the Naysayers wouldn't recall Clake, Wren certainly would have remembered him since they'd traveled together for years.  It was a small comfort, and would help with the next step which, happily, came sooner than Clarke had expected.  Emanuel looked his way. "You know... Wren is a good judge of character, and, like you said, we ARE a man short.  Have you ever considered the life of an adventurer?"

Clarke, ignoring the heartache, offered his most genuine smile. --I have some experience in the field... I'm familiar with some of the Old Kingdom sites, but I don't have a group.--

Emanuel was obviously taken aback by what he quite likely figured incredible luck. "Well that's a coincidence... that's exactly what we need."

Between Wren's familiarity with Clarke and the Beast-Kin's spell of friendship, it was not a hard task to be re-inducted into the Naysayers, but it was a hollow victory.  He'd been through a 'reset' on his life before and it never got easier.  Having been part of the group for most of a decade made suddenly being the newest member disquieting, and, as Emanuel stepped away after promising to return with his group to make introductions, Clarke closed his eyes, attempting to latch onto something to help him maintain his composure. 

Life wasn't supposed to be easy and he knew as much, but some things were far too painful to be anything but punishment for past wrongs.  The Wolf could only wonder when his redemption would be paid up and, with no answer forthcoming, all he could do was persevere.