HBWnovel Chapter 118: Concert Preparations
Chapter 118: Concert Preparations
Toren Daen
“Have you made sure to polish your instrument?” a harsh voice asked. “The microfiber cloths we provided should have been more than sufficient.”
“Yes,” I replied.
“Did you practice for twenty minutes this morning, as recommended?”
“Yes,“ came my bland response.
“And did you make sure to keep yourself hidden from the attending guests? We can’t afford for them to see you before your initial reveal.”
“Yeah, I did,” I said, tired.
Unfortunately, I hadn’t seen Renea since I left her to track down leads in Nirmala. The man in front of me, Denvish, was the event organizer assigned to me by Bloodstone Elixirs. His job was to make sure everything was perfect for my upcoming performance, and he was damn good at his job. Maybe a little too good. From the way he grilled his employees over the smallest details to the constant buzzing presence over my shoulder, he’d quickly become a bother.
The past couple of weeks had been a constant routine of re
Maybe there is another reason for her to sponsor my music, I acknowledged with a sigh. But even if there is a secondary objective she wishes to accomplish, I am certain that it’s not solely due to that. She does have a soft spot in her heart.
Aurora shifted slightly. From the look on her face, I knew she didn’t truly buy it. I was still more idealistic than the phoenix. I wasn’t sure if she saw that as a strength or a weakness.
Before the conversation continued, another familiar figure entered the tent. The Unseen World washed away from my vision as Sevren Denoir approached, looking me up and down.
“You look good in that outfit,” he said appraisingly. “The maroon compliments your hair well.”
I snorted. “Says the man who only wears teal and black,” I retorted. “I didn’t think you knew what fashion was.”
The Denoir heir let himself down into a nearby chair. We’d kept a semi-regular correspondence over the past couple of weeks as I’d been invested in my research and practice. “I have a few more papers on the effects of basilisk blood on mana-imbibed elixirs,” he said, withdrawing a stack of paper from his dimension ring.
With a bare effort of my telekinetic emblem, I latched onto the proffered papers, then drew them into my own ring. “Thanks, Sevren,” I said. I’d quickly run out of comprehensive material at the Fiachran libraries and had called in a bit of a favor from the highblood heir. “Any updates on that spellform of yours?”
My friend had been experimenting and testing the mechanics of his djinn-bestowed spellform these past few weeks as well. He’d gone on several short ascents, marking the ins and outs of what he could do. It mainly allowed him to change the output destination of descension portals, not unlike the djinn compass Arthur would eventually find.
But I didn’t get a response. I frowned, turning to look at the white-haired striker. “Sevren?”
“What exactly is your Bond like?” he asked quietly. “When you connect with… Lady Dawn, how does it feel to you? How does it impact your mind? Your thought process?”
I furrowed my brows, confused by this avenue of questioning. Aurora, piloting her steampunk sparrow, hopped off her chair and glided over to my shoulder. “I do not believe you understand the gravity of what you ask, Artificer,” the little construct said. “The Bond between us is as entrenched as the soul. It runs thicker than blood; deeper than any magic you know.”
Sevren seemed disconcerted by Aurora’s response. “I did discover something new about my spellform,” he said slowly, “But I don’t know how to understand it. And this was the best way I could think of how.”
I leaned forward slightly, intrigued. “What do you mean?”
“This last time I used my spellform, I kept it active for far longer than I usually do. It was the next on my list of tests. How long could I keep a portal active? Would the mana drain remain the same throughout my use of it? That kind of thing.” He inhaled, his fists clenched. “But the longer I kept a portal destination changed, the more I felt something… buzzing in the back of my mind. Something that wasn’t me or my mana.”
“So you’re asking if this is what our Bond is like,” I replied, filling in the gaps. “You think something is connected to you.”
“I know something is connected to me,” the white-haired striker responded, emphasizing the word. “But I have no point of reference for this. The feeling diminished once I got far enough away from the portal, but still,” he said, trailing off.
I sat down heavily in a nearby chair, trying to figure out what this was. Was there another djinn in the Relictombs he was connecting to, somewhere? Or was it some sort of embedded part of that rune?
“I’m afraid runes aren’t my area of expertise in magic,” I replied honestly. “I told you a little while back that my magic is unique. It’s somewhat akin to the Dicathian methods, so I’m not sure what is possible or impossible with runes. But my tether to Lady Dawn isn’t a buzzing. It’s…”
I paused, trying to formulate the words. But how did one describe sight to one who has never seen? Sound to a person who has been deaf their whole life?
“It’s like a whole other sense,” I said, hoping I could articulate this properly. “Like smell. Or touch. But instead of an extension of the body, it's an extension of the mind. A tether that’s always there; one that you recognize by sheer instinct.”
When I’d first felt the presence of my Bond with Aurora, I’d known instantly what it was with an intuitive accuracy.
Sevren was frowning. “It’s not like that. Not nearly as… intimate. But at least that rules out one possibility.” He shook his head. “I get flashes of things, though. Sensations. Visions. Nothing concrete; and it's only when I’m super close to a portal and that connection is the strongest.”
I stilled, looking at Aurora’s puppet. Cautiously, I reached a hand out, caressing the threads of lifeforce my Bond used to pilot the little craft.
If I clenched my hand around them, I was able to see exactly what Aurora was witnessing through the steampunk sparrow. But if my hands simply feathered over those strings instead…
I got brief glimpses. Bursting, still screenshots of my own face flooded my mind, the perspective of the burnished brass bird filtering through.
Aurora caught onto my thought process quickly. “The tether between myself and this relic acts much the same under Toren’s influence,” she said, speaking aloud through the clockwork bird so Sevren could hear. “He is able to influence my own tie to this craft with minimal effect. And perhaps…”
The Denoir heir looked at the bird sharply. As part of his stipulations for allowing Lady Dawn to use this relic freely, Sevren had requested we report all the workings of aether that we could discover from it to him. And it seemed Aurora was eager to pay off that debt. “So you’re saying…”
“At least on the surface,” I breathed out, “It seems what might be affecting you is a tether of heartfire; which is my area of expertise. If you can show me what happens when you’re near a portal, maybe I can–”
I was cut off by aggravated shouting from outside my tent. I recognized one of the voices. “We can’t stop the show!” Denvish snapped. “Sure, the storm might be coming, but all the work we’ve done would be for nothing if we simply pack and leave!”
“Would you rather all those outside get drenched instead?” another voice snapped back. I didn’t know this one, but the edge to it made me rise in apprehension. “We can reschedule to another–”
“No, we can’t,” Denvish said sharply. “Lady Shorn called in more than a few favors to allow this large of a turnout on the first showing. If we were to reschedule, how many wouldn’t be able to attend? Or would refuse to do so, claiming their debts paid?!”
Feeling a nervous buildup in my chest, I stood up, pushing open the flaps to my tent. Just beyond, the rising wall of the stage blocked my view of the seating beyond, but I could feel the hustle and bustle of men beyond with my mana and hearfire senses. The rolling hills of central Sehz-Clar stretched onto infinity in front of me, small forested areas interspersing the range.
Overhead, the sky was dark with storm clouds. They must’ve rolled in over the past half hour or so, coating the sky in a blanket of deep gray. I swallowed, looking up at those clouds in the growing gloom.
If it rains, I thought, realization creeping up, If it storms, I won’t be able to play. My chance will be washed away with the rainwater.
Denvish was redfaced, arguing fervently with another man I did not recognize. From the elegant attire he wore, I recognized him as another organizer of the event.
“What’s going on?” I interrupted, drawing the attention of both men.
“You’re going to have to reschedule your little concert, Lord Daen,” the man I didn’t recognize said, brushing off his suit and giving me a polite bow. He had a hawklike nose that stood out as he spoke. “With the imminent storm, it’s pointless to keep these people here any longer.”
I stayed silent as Aurora’s clockwork relic fluttered out of the tent, landing on my shoulder. Sevren came out a moment later, looking concerned.
“We can’t afford it!” Denvish bit out. “All the favors our Lady has leveraged for this single day can’t be wasted!”
“Don’t fool yourself, Denvish,” the other man said. “If you would bother to check, you’d notice that Blooded families are already leaving the little stadium. They don’t want to get drenched by rainwater.”
I looked up, trying to hone in on my sense of mana. I cast my attention to the side, trying to get a feel for what was happening beyond the tall-backed stage of solid earth.
The hawk-nosed presenter was right. Some people were already beginning to leave. Through the weave of ambient intent, I could sense their displeasure. Their annoyance. Their irritation.
I sank into a nearby chair, grasping my head in my hands. I took a deep breath, feeling a wave of disappointment flush through me. I’d done nothing but practice my art for these past couple of weeks, anxiously awaiting the day I’d be able to play for the masses.
I looked back up at the sky, grinding my teeth. The sky overhead mocked me with its shadow. You may try to show them a path, it said to me. But even the weather works against you. You’ll never give these people another way.
Sensing my plummeting mood, Aurora’s relic form extended a wing to wrap around the back of my head in a gesture resembling a hug. “I am sorry this has happened to you. But all is not lost, Toren,” she said soothingly. “You will have another day to play for the masses.”
With a scowl on his face, Sevren pushed his way toward the arguing event preparers. I heard him introduce himself, a roll of shock splintering through the irritated men. Each of them gave a deep bow as Sevren introduced himself as the heir to Highblood Denoir. He started asking both of them questions about this venue, but it drifted past my ears.
I could feel the people beyond leaving. They funneled out of the mini-stadium in quiet groups of twos and threes.
And I knew these people weren’t rejecting my message. I knew this wasn’t my last chance to make a difference; that this was merely a setback on the road. But each footfall felt like a personal dismissal of what I planned to say.
I felt resolve settling in my stomach. It coiled and churned there, slowly prodding me toward a course of action.
What barrier does the sky hold for me? I thought, standing slowly. Why must I turn and change with the weather?
I began to march, brushing past the three mages as they conversed about something. The hawk-nosed man noticed the direction I was trodding. He hastily broke off from the argument, trailing behind me. “My lord!” he called. “You can’t go up there! Not today!”
His complaints blew past my ears like a feather in the wind; hardly registered. The sky is the domain of the phoenix, I thought, and I felt my Bond react to those words. Where before she had been consoling, now she shifted to encouragement. She sensed a part of my plan. The winds belong to us. They are no barrier to me or my magic.
In a trance not dissimilar to the one I’d experienced when I’d first played my intent-based music, I slowly ascended the steps behind the stage, ignoring the desperate calls of the hawk-nosed organizer.
I had a concert to play.