NOVEL NEXT Chapter 25: Garden of the Gods
I absentmindedly touched my chest where the leather strap for Kingmaker used to be. It felt wrong to have nothing there, like walking into a public area while still dressed in your night clothes.
"Norman Benson without his mandolin is just a farmer," said Greenspring, grinning. "And not a very good one at that."
"Hurtful."
"But true," replied Greenspring. "Either way, you are going to need it for your next meeting with Gunner."
While on the outside I seemed cautious, I was very eager to see what kind of mandolin Greenspring had found for me. There were a few different types with several differences in sound. Piopus told me that some mandolins had magical properties. You could change the quality of your spells based on the type of wood used or the material used for the strings. My old mandolin had been made of maple with a spruce top.
I once heard of a flutist who exchanged his old silver flute for a gold flute. He found that his songs no longer appealed to older folks in the tavern. Instead, he gained a new younger following. Not only could the material change the effect, the thickness and quality could too.
Yes, I was very eager to see the mandolin Greenspring found for me. In a big city like Adelbern, I was sure there were all kinds. Piopus never told me where he found mine. I just assumed he found it in a big city. Maybe that was how Trafford found his? The thought of Piopus making it for me never crossed my mind. He wasn't the crafty type.
We stopped in front of an old, rusted shack built onto the city wall. Well, it might have been more accurate to say that it had fallen onto the wall. Rather than fix it, the owners seemed to have let it use the wall as support. I wanted to say something about it to Greenspring, but he seemed eager to show me my new mandolin. So I held my tongue and followed him inside.
The smell was awful. Like years of filth had piled up and been baking in the sun. Holding my nose, I looked around the dusty shack. It was empty save for the singular owner laying on a pile of moldy rags at the back. Greenspring walked up to him, whereas I stayed close by the door. At least there was a slight breeze blowing in from outside.
"Good morning, Willowseed," said Greenspring.
Like the pile he was laying on, Willowseed was dressed in multicolored rags. He had a short, uneven, curly beard matching his short, curly, gray hairs. It was difficult to see much of his figure in the dim light, but he seemed to be quite thin. Almost deathly so. Wiping his face with the back of his hand, he glared up at Greenspring.
"Is it?" he asked, speaking softly as if he was afraid speaking any louder would collapse his home.
Greenspring nodded. "As good as it could be."
Willowseed chuckled to himself. "You were always a dreamer." He shook his head then peered around Greenspring. "That him?"
"Yes, this is Norman. He is the bard I was telling you about."
I bowed. "Well met."
Willowseed eyed me carefully. "You been looking for a new lute?"
"Ah, no, Greenspring said he found a mandolin for me," I replied.
"Right," said Willowseed, his joints cracking as he stood up and stretched. "He did mention something like that."
"I was hoping you could lead us to the grove, my old friend," said Greenspring. "If it would not be too much trouble."
Willowseed waved his hand. "No trouble for you, but for the bard… Ah well, I'm sure he'll be fine."
"The grove?" I asked, stepping further into the shack.
"My druidic grove," answered Greenspring. "Your new mandolin is waiting for us there."
Willowseed raised his hands, pointing toward the roof of his shack. His eyes rolled back into his head, his eyelids fluttered. He mouthed the words to some spell, but I couldn't make out what he was saying. A warm breeze blew in through the holes in the shack, kicking up a cloud of dust. The ground shook beneath us.
Greenspring grabbed my hand and then wrapped his free arm around Willowseed's waist. The rotting smell of the shack wafted away, replaced by the smell of a damp forest. I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the feeling of Greenspring's hand. They were rough and full of calluses.
When I opened my eyes, I found myself standing in the middle of a dense forest. In front of me was a glowing bush, pulsing with some kind of purple energy. The leaves of the bush were thin, the branches covered in thorns. Greenspring and Willowseed were nowhere to be found.
It was just me and the bush.
"Hello, Norman Benson, welcome to me."
"Welcome to me?" I asked, staring wide-eyed at the glowing bush.
Though I was sure I was standing in the middle of a dense forest, I couldn't feel my body. There were no smells, no sounds of birds or small animals. The leaves of the trees around me didn't shake in the wind. As hard as I tried to take a step forward, I couldn't move. When I looked down at my body, I found that there was nothing there at all.
"Yes, you are within me," said the bush, the purple aura surrounding it pulsating in time with its words.
"Who are you?"
The bush wasn't physically speaking to me, it was inserting the words it wanted to say directly into my mind. Its voice sounded like my own. "I am the sacred grove of Strabora, hidden deep within the kingdom your people call Grey. I have had many names. You may call me Heliotrope."
"Why am I here?"
"Greenspring told me of your battle against the Mad Joker and your battle against the Rebel King. You are quite the musician. My friend and I would love to hear you play some more."
"Your friend?"
Suddenly, there was a flash of blinding light. I shut my eyes, as I couldn't raise my arms. Once I was sure that it was gone, I cracked open one of my eyes to see what the source of the light was. Standing next to the bush, wearing a loose-fitting dress with a gold belt, was the goddess Panacea.
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She appeared to be around my age, with no visible signs of old age. Her skin was light brown, with golden undertones that seemed to mix with the purple light. Draped over her shoulder was a cloth flowing down to her bare feet. Two glass bottles filled with a misty-looking liquid were attached to her belt through a loop.
Panacea, Goddess of Health and Home, smiled at me. "Hello, Norman. I'm so glad we can finally meet. I've been watching over you for a long time."
Compared to the other gods and goddesses, Panacea is relatively unknown. She is a minor goddess, having only recently become so. Thanks to the efforts of her followers, her faith has spread rapidly. When I was working for Gunner, I saw a statue of her in Orten, one of the many towns I visited to help Gunner kidnap blacksmiths. That was my only experience with her. I had no idea she was watching me.
"My apologies, if I could bow, I would. It is an honor to meet a goddess," I said, trying my best to appear cordial. It was difficult when you couldn't do more than speak.
She laughed, causing my body to emanate with warmth. "Your words are enough, dear bard. Please, tell me, how is your family?"
Heliotrope made a sound that resembled a grunt. "I am sure that Norman is busy. No, I know Norman is busy. We shouldn't keep him with idle chatter."
"Yes, I suppose you're right," said Panacea, adjusting the bottles on her belt. "We need to give him his new mandolin."
A mandolin from a goddess! Such a thing was unheard of. Sure, the gods sometimes bestowed gifts upon mortals, but only to great heroes. Never to simple farmers who moonlighted as musicians. That just didn't happen. There had to be a catch.
"Forgive me, but why are you giving me such a gift? I am very grateful to receive your blessing, both of your blessings, but I'm confused. Why me?"
"You helped save Greenspring," said Heliotrope. "When you water one of my garden seeds, I make sure to return that kindness. Greenspring is one of my best, as such, you deserve the best."
"Do you remember the opoamer, Sunday?" asked Panacea.
"He helped me in Orten by your fountain."
She nodded. "He is a friend of mine. A wanderer who follows the wind and the clouds that ride upon it. I've been watching him for many years, almost as many as he's been alive. When you two met for the first time, after he caught you from tripping, that was when I first laid my eyes upon you."
"Those were dark times," I replied.
"You were alone, the fate of your friends and family hanging on your obedience to a tyrant. No mandolin, no money, nothing but the clothes on your back. And yet, what did you do upon seeing my statue? You tried to offer me tribute."
"But I didn't give you anything." At the time, I wanted to throw some money into her fountain. As a way of showing reverence to the goddess and maybe to gain some good luck. Since Gunner had taken my money from me, and Bagheera had nothing, I was unable to do so.
"When a man is at his lowest, I expect him to become selfish. It is not wrong to seek self-preservation. That is man's nature," said Panacea, smiling. "So when a man at his lowest thinks not of himself, but of offering tribute to me, who am I to ask for more?"
"Perhaps, but I could have—"
"Do you want our gift or not?" asked Heliotrope, clearly annoyed at the pace of the conversation.
"Sorry," I replied. "I accept your gift."
"Norman Benson," said the bush and the deity in unison. "We offer unto you, the essence of the gods."
Panacea reached up and plucked eight silver hairs out of her head. She pulled them straight, then let them fall in front of Heliotrope. They fell slowly to the forest floor. As they fell, a small sapling grew below them. It grew faster and faster, transforming from a green sapling to a mighty spruce tree.
Or was it maple? It shifted between each type of tree, going back and forth each time I blinked. Then there was a flash of purple and golden light. The tree was gone, as were the hairs plucked from Panacea's head. In their place was a mandolin much like the one I had recently destroyed.
I stared at it in awe, before I realized I was now able to move. My physical body now returned to me. Panacea watched me carefully as I stepped toward the newly-made instrument. Heliotrope's purple glow slowed its pulsing, as if he was holding his breath. Panacea's hair for the strings, Heliotrope's wood for the body. It was nothing less than a masterpiece.
When I picked up the mandolin off the ground, there was silence. Play me… My fingers placed themselves on the strings. Sing for the world… I let muscle memory take over as I began to play. The greatest bard who ever lived… All I could hear was the sound of the mandolin as it reverberated off the trees.
I played the first song I ever learned on the mandolin. It was a child's lullaby. Piopus taught me it so I could fall asleep easier at night. The anticipation of the next day's lesson had kept me awake. Somehow, it felt right to replay that song on my new mandolin. Like I was paying homage to my past, and my former teacher.
Run little rabbit,
across the carrot plot.
Hide in the bushes,
so you won't get spot.
Your mother is waiting for you.
Sleep,
and she will join you soon.
When I finished, I held the mandolin in my hands and smiled at it. "Thank you," I said. My eyes watered, but I held them back. It would be improper to cry in front of a goddess.
"Our gift comes with a price," said Heliotrope.
"You must use it to defeat Trafford, and save our followers," said Panacea.
Now that I could move, I bowed deeply at the hip. "I will make you proud."
For the briefest of moments, I thought I saw my parents in the place of the two deities. "You already have."
I jumped as I felt a hand grip my shoulder. "Come on, Norman, it is time to go back," said Greenspring.
In the span of a single blink, I found myself back in Willowseed's shack. The previous musty smell that had permeated the air was replaced with a citrus scent. Willowseed was gone. Part of me wondered if it had been a dream, but the divinely blessed mandolin still in my hands proved that it wasn't.
Greenspring nodded as he examined the instrument. "Yes, very nice. What do you think? As good as your last one?"
"Well, my last mandolin had a nice leather strap. Gonna be a pain to carry this one around."
He laughed, slapping my back with more force than was necessary. "We will get you a new one, my boy. Come. Let us go see how Nia fares."
We returned to Valna's mansion. Nia's match had ended while I was still in the sacred grove, so the others were there when we returned. As soon as I opened the door, I could hear the sounds of celebration coming from the dining hall. Greenspring went to join them, but I slipped upstairs to grab the last part I needed for my mandolin.
I wasn't joking, I really missed that carrying strap.
When I entered the dining hall, I found everyone gathered around Nia as she recounted her fight. She had a mug of ale in one hand, sloshing foamy beer all over Valna's floor. Her other hand moved wildly with every word she spoke. I sat down next to Beth, trying my best to appear unseen.
"He wrapped his arm around my neck and tried to pull me down to the ground," said Nia, slurring her words. "So I bit his arm. He starts crying, actual tears flowing from his eyes. As soon as he backs off, WHAM, I break his nose with my elbow. You should have seen it, blood was flying everywhere!"
"Did I miss anything?" I asked, leaning toward Beth to whisper in her ear.
She chuckled to herself. "Oh don't worry, this is the fourth time Nia has told this story. It seems to get stranger with each telling. She'll wrap around again in a few minutes."
The rest of the night was filled with drinking and laughter. But through it all, I couldn't help but think about Gunner. Was he the key to defeating Trafford? Did we even need him now that I had my new mandolin? Could I really face him again?
When the celebrations were over, I headed up to my room and changed into my night clothes. Beth was already asleep, having gone to bed much earlier than myself. When I pulled back the covers and slipped into the bed, I felt something hard under my pillow. A letter.
A sign from Zadona. The location of Gunner, and a way to speak with him. While I had known that I would have to speak with Gunner, seeing it in writing made my stomach tie itself into a knot. What came next scared me even more.
Bring Beth.