Bard's Sleep

Chapter 1

"Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire,

I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice Is 

also great And would suffice."

Robert Frost

Frangipane. That's what his skin looked like in the glow of daylight. He had an ineffable look on his face. Quite indescribable. It was almost a blend between pure contentment, and yet unease. He was pensive, in this eternal sleep.

Marcella looked down at the severed head that had been placed in her charge. "The Bard," they had said. "We have taken care of him and now you shall do the same." She heard the words echo in her skull.

Marcella was no more than 17 years of age when tasked with the quest to save her people, the people of Alnwick. Alnwick was a small village of gentle Fae folk and fauna. The neighboring Kingdom of Crullfeld had plagued them. Crullfeld was filled with brutes and conquerors. The king of Crullfeld, King Mainard, only wanted power and death to fall upon those around him. Once he set his eyes on Alnwick, there was no stopping the onslaught of murder and plunder.

Marcella thought back to when things had been simpler. She thought back to the fields of heliotrope. She would walk through them in the heat of summer. She would create crowns of flowers from the blooms and shades of purple for her lips from the petals. She was blind to hate and the malady of men. It was just fields of flowers and divine sunshine for her.

She was brought back out of her reverie to the current moment by the odoriferous smell of the object she held in her hands.

"Frangipane." She thought. "That's what you look like to me, sir." An incurious feeling overcame Marcella. She wondered what The Bard had done in his life to lead him up until now. She wondered what it was like to speak to him and hear what he had to say. Did he have friends? Did he too wander fields of flowers and bask in their beauty? Who had he been, before he was thrust into the battle for power? Factitious lives and stories danced in Marcella's head.

"Marcella," the sprites sang from the mountain top.

"You must take the sleeping Bard

to where the land is not scarred.

Haedleigh is where you are to imbibe

The true words of the scribe.

Only there will you find the life of the wise

and the ghosts of the past to exorcise. "

Marcella heard their words. She just couldn't tear her eyes from the face that lay in her arms in a terrible slumber.

The Bard was King Mainard's counsel and seer. He told the king of prophecies to come and told of how the king could move forward. Now Marcella held that very power in her hands. She held the fate of her world and others.

Marcella was overwhelmed. She was just a simple fairy. She had no real stake in this world. All she wanted was to be simple and enjoy simple things. When the council of elders had called her in their chambers earlier that day she had no idea that they were going to place this burden upon her. She didn't think she was special at all, let alone special enough to save her people.

"Frangipane." She muttered under breath. It used to be her favorite. Now, she wasn't sure if she'd be able to stomach the sweet almond custard.

As she pondered whether or not to follow the sprites song, the Bard's eyes began to flutter. She was so startled that she dropped the head. It thumped to the ground and the Bard's eyes shot open and a beacon of light shone from within the ocular cavities.

At first, the words coming from The Bard's mouth were just a jumble of half voiced consonants and mumbles. As his head continued to make noise, words became apparent. Marcella made out "emanation" and "distillation", but couldn't decipher what most of what the head was muttering. It started to speak louder and louder until it was yelling. The head was just screaming words now. Marcella plugged her ears. It hurt. All of this hurt. The light was so bright her eyes stung. The screaming was so loud she could feel it in her chest.

The wind around her picked up speed. The sky became a terrible grey color. It was like the earth was in pain too from the terror before her. The earth began to shake. The trees were knocking together. Everything was moving so fast. It was as if the very earth beneath Marcella could tear apart at any second.

Marcella wasn't sure if she could bear anymore until the head let out a blood-curdling scream, saying, "MARCELLAAAAA!"

Then the earth became eerily quiet. Nothing stirred. The Bard's eyes had closed. 

The trees stood still and Marcella was alone.