Aldric Thornwood's Arc

Chapter 3 of 11

The skiff cut across the lake and slid onto a pebbled beach at the north shore. Aldric stepped out with the stoneware jar wrapped tight against his chest. The wolf jumped down and sniffed the ground. A stone shrine stood among the pines, its door carved with rows of notes. The lake behind him hummed low, waiting. He set his hand on the door and traced the carving. He could not read music. He had no flute. The prince's words came back to him. Find someone who does. He turned inland and followed a thin trail through the trees. The wolf stopped once and pressed hard against his leg, then eased when a small figure stepped from the ferns. A girl in a wide spotted cap. Bare feet. Orange hair down her back. She looked at him without surprise. "You are the one carrying the poisoned jar," she said. "I saw you in a spore-dream last night. I could not see the ending." She held up her hand. The tip of one finger was black. "I tested the wrong water. My visions are shorter now. But I can still tell you this. You will not play the shrine alone." "Then who plays it." "A man with a flute walks these paths when the ground is sick. He guided me once." She tilted her head. "He is not far. Follow the notes you cannot hear. My friend told me they hang in the air near the falls east of here." Aldric went east. The wolf led. At a small waterfall, pale marks drifted in the mist above the pool, hanging like moths. A tall figure stood at the edge, half man and half giraffe, holding a wooden flute to his long mouth. He played one of the hanging notes and it dropped into the water and vanished. "I need you at the shrine on the north shore," Aldric said. "My sister is dying. The lake will not give me water unless someone plays what's on the door." The tall man lowered his flute. "I know the door. I have passed it. I do not remember if I have played it." He looked at the notes still in the air, then at Aldric. "I will try." They walked back together. The wolf kept close. At the shrine the tall man studied the carving, set the flute to his lips, and played. The notes came slow at first, then clean. The lake behind them shifted. A narrow channel opened in the water and rose in a thin, still column at the shore. Aldric unwrapped the jar, worked the stopper free, and tipped the column into the mouth. The water poured in dark and heavy. He sealed the wax back down and stepped away. The tall man kept playing. His hands slowed. His eyes went far away. He lowered the flute and looked at Aldric. "I know my name," he said. "And I know who took it from me. She is walking here now."