A (short) fantasy story about music :)

[ErianDragonborn]

I was writing a story, but since I got stuck I thought: maybe now is a good time to see if I can get some feedback.

If you feel like, you could give feedback on:

- language (English is not my native language)

- storyline

- tension building

- music (I am not a music expert :tongue:)

- characters

- anything else really....

 

In short:

It is a fantasy story about a conductor who lives in a culture where music is used as a weapon. Of course, there are some battles and a war, but I am still working on those...

 

A couple of questions:

What instrument (fictional or real) would you think to be a good weapon?

What kind of enemies could you imagine would face a music-making army?

What would you do if you lived in this world?

 

Part 1:

It was the year thousand-sixty-three, of the fourteenth era. A year that would not be lightly forgotten.

 

Jorh is resting in his tent. He never drifts off asleep, although he tries. The sound of people walking outside, whispering to each other, keeps him awake. He can not understand what the voices say. He can not recognize them either. He spoke to most of the musicians, so these are almost certainly other people.

 

The beds are of no help either. They are hard and filled with old straw. He pulls his woolen blanket far over his head in an attempt to shut out the sounds. Frath is sleeping with him in the same tent. His breathing is slow and his eyes are closed.

 

Jorh's eyes wander off to his bag and belongings. His heart pounds faster. After tomorrow, he may never see them again.

 

A gust of wind rushes through the camp. It makes the tent flap and slightly lifts Jorh's blanket. He shivers. What on earth was he doing here? In this cold and wet wasteland, among musicians and other people, almost none of which he knew very well. Of course, he started to know Frath, his fellow conductor, better after spending weeks with him in one tent, but still.

 

As the first light of the upcoming sun shines through the fabric of the tent, Jorh decides he spent enough time in his bed. Slowly, he gets up. He stretches his back. All his bones hurt, but there will be barely any time for complaining. He picks up his thick cloak. It is not snowing yet, but here, the weather can change from sun to snow and hail in a matter of seconds.

 

As he gets outside, he sees some people walking around. Some of them are feeding and grooming the horses, others are preparing breakfast on large fires. Jorh's tent was placed close to the tents holding the instruments. Merth, one of the only people he knew from his hometown, is standing guard at the entrance of the biggest of them. She holds her fist up as a greeting. ‘Slept well?’ she asks. Jorh shakes his head. ‘Not a minute.’ ‘In that case, I hope you are ready to lead the orchestra today. It always proved to be tough, but if you are not well rested, chances may be slim we make it through today.’ Jorh sighs. ‘We will see.'
He walks to the large fire in their circle of tents. Two musicians are already eating.
'What do you think, sir? Will we succeed today?’ ‘We can only give our best. And I didn't travel for weeks without comfort to give up and lose at the very end.’ The two boys smile. They can't be older than 30 years. Probably just started playing music.

 

Jorh picks up one of the baked breads and puts a slice of meat on it. ‘Deer, sir. Hunted it this morning.’ The cook smiles at him. He only nods and starts to eat.

 

The Gihiir from the west side of the camp start coming as well. They agreed on helping with the moving and positioning of the instruments.

 

They are a folk that is not so different from the Akashi to which Jorh belongs. The Akashi are slightly smaller and have a very white skin. Of most of them, their hair is also white. Only a small portion of their population has red hair, and brown or even black is very seldom. Their eyes are well adapted to the dark and they usually sleep at night and during the day. Their work-hours are at dawn and at dusk.

 

The Gihiir are mainly people of the plains. They use big horses and sail-wagons as transportation. They have more muscle than the Akashi and a slightly darker skin. Some of them even have a scaly skin. This subgroup is the strongest of all of the folks and is said to know no fear, which is why they most of the time choose to join an army.

 

The biggest difference between the Akashi and the Gihiir are their senses. While Gihiir have a strong eyesight for looking over the plains for prey, the Akashi have extremely well-developed ears. They hear broader ranges of sound than any creature known to people. This makes them excellent musicians.

 

Jorh was a strange one in his home-town. His mother lived in the town her entire life, but his father came from the Silver Mountains. These mountains got their name from the silver hair of the Akashi that live there. Or at least so would some have you believe. Others say it's the rich silver-mines that no-one ever saw. His father told him it was the snow that gave the mountains their name. But whatever the reason might have been, Jorh's father was rich and had long silver-like hair.

 

When Jorh was born, everyone almost instantly recognized he had even better ears than the best trained Akashi in town. At a young age, he could distinguish between every instrument and note in their whole orchestra at the same time. Their conductors would need years of training to reach the same level.

 

It was then soon decided he would become a conductor as well.

 

And now he was sitting here. In the early winter sunlight, under a furry cloak eating bread with deer-meat, waiting for the time he has to lead his orchestra. He would be the first to start today.

 

Big and small instruments are moved by the strong Gihiir and placed precisely in the spots some Akashi show them. Some of them are so large that they require three big horses to tow them.

 

More and more people wake up and eat or prepare for later this day. Many of the musicians already take their place or search for their instrument. They tune them very precisely. Everything has to be just right.

 

By the time most of the musicians are sitting and tuning, Jorh gets up. He has to prepare now too. With a lump in his throat, he returns to his tent. He gets his plated armor from its stand. The light-weight metal feels yet heavy in his hands. As fast as he can, he puts in on, and then walks out of the tent. The sun is reflecting from the golden metal. Someone had it polished for him, but he can't remember her name.

 

The members of the orchestra greet him as they see him. He gets his baton from his pocket. The piece of wood feels comfortably familiar in his hand. It gives him a bit more spirit to get started. Two large horns sound his arrival. This sound should be heard everywhere in the encampment. Those that weren't awake are now. Jorh raises his hands and gives the upbeat for his first piece of music in a very long time.

 

It is surprising how people from all over the country can play music in such a collective way. Already after the first few notes, Jorh started to feel stronger. This piece was composed to bring courage to the listeners, while being hard to copy for anyone who wasn't a professional musician, as were most of the compositions. With rapid changes from three-four time and four-four time to five-four time and here and there even seven-four time, Akashi music was considered the most complex to be found.

 

The horns and trumpets sound a lively, uplifting melody for those close enough. The strings in their turn calm the audience and give them the rest they need to think clearly about what's coming. The choir has the task of motivating everyone, whether they understand the ancient Akashi language or not. The words are hard to write down in the Latin alphabet, and are hard to translate into English. They are passed on from parent to child and from teacher to student. The most common translation given is the following:

 

 

Another day has come

 

To see the music have its rise

 

Let mountains fall and walls shatter

 

Let rivers dry up in our path

 

The notes more pure than a winter's tale

 

The sounds more clear than a spring's morning

 

Another day has come

 

To see the music have it's rise

 

This translation does no proper right to the words that are actually used, however.

 

Every person now stands around the musicians. Every Gihiir and every Akashi that is not playing. Determination is in all of their eyes.

 

Now, the instruments work together to create a pounding melody that shakes the earth and moves the tents. The only thing to be heard is a rhythm. One that beats like a heart. Pounding ever faster and ending in a long note that takes every bit of breath of the wind-players.

 

After the cut-off, all of the people shout in unison. They are ready for what is about to come.

 

Frath sits on one of the big horses. He has a small group of musicians with him that carry enormous horns made of whole trees with them. Three of the large instruments that were pulled by three horses each stand behind them. Even the horses seem focused after the performance of Jorh and the orchestra. Even though Jorh knew the effect on people, he never knew it would work on animals as well. He salutes his fellow conductor as he rides away with his musicians.

 

Jorh now walks towards the place where the wagons would be ready for him and the orchestra. Everyone takes his or her instrument with him on the wagon. The convoy is guarded by a group of elite Gihiir warriors. They all wear shiny silver armor with their weapon on the chest-plate. Two crossed, burning torches. Most of the other warriors wear armor that has been composed of many different types of armor. A lot of it doesn't even fit.

 

The armor Jorh is wearing is of Gihiir making as well. It has been made to fit his house. A large cello adorns his chest-plate and it is golden rather than silver. In order to get such a type of armor, one would have to save a Gihiir warrior in a fight, even though not being a warrior yourself, or you should serve the king as a guard for at least a year. Buying any of these armors with money for your own use will make them useless in battle. Swords will swing through them just as easily as through butter. They can still be worn ornamentally.

 

Jorh got his from a badly wounded soldier who was nearly drowning. He saved the soldier from the water, despite the risk of being discovered by the same scouts that shot the soldier in the first place. Now, this armor is his last line of defense, should the elite of the Gihiir fail. But if that were to happen, everything was lost. No armor could save you then.

 

The first thing that made this day never to be forgotten, was the fact that the Gihiir and the Akashi were working so close together. Usually, the two folks were living separate lives. They even were a bit hostile towards each-other at times. But now, for the first time in history, people of both folks were walking and riding with one-another like they had no differences. This gathering of people had one very specific cause. Golor.

 

Golor was a big man-like person. He is believed to be the only of his folk. His skin and eyes change colour as he gets into a different mood. He always lived silently in the High Mountains without causing trouble. He even sometimes helped people who tried to cross over the mountain-passes. Now, things have changed. For long, no-one came from the lands behind the high Mountains, until one day, a weary traveler made it to one of the small villages. It took him some days to recover and be able to tell his story. He was with a companionship of ten people. They tried to cross the High Mountains, as they were attacked by beings that looked like a crossbreed between reptiles, birds and people. The traveler only just managed to see that Golor was leading this army of creatures, before he stumbled away and fell down a cliff-slope. That was the thing that saved him, according to his story. But as he ran away, he saw thousands, if not more, of these creatures swarming the peaks of the mountains.

 

Not long after, villages were raided. At night. No-one ever saw the enemy coming, no-one saw them going. Houses were burned, food and cattle was stolen and people died, although killing didn't seem to be their main interest. This went on, until one of the creatures got trapped underneath a falling tree. The creature died, and now one of the attackers could be seen.

 

It had a large bird-like beak, but it had teeth as well. It's body looked man-like, but it was covered in short blue-green feathers. The arms looked like giant wings, with which the creatures could come and go unseen, through the air. The villages closest to the high Mountains were mainly Gihiir villages. As less and less save towns were left, they started seeking refuge in Akashi villages. They were not too keen on helping the refugees, but some of them accepted some Gihiir in their houses. In return they wanted the Gihiir to keep their houses and towns safe.

 

For a while, this went rather well. The Akashi have better ears and could hear the creatures coming, while the Gihiir could not see them yet in the dark. With the Akashi sounding the alarm and the Gihiir fighting off the attackers, most villages were able to stand quite well against the creatures. However, this could not go on forever.

 

That's when the leaders of the Akashi and the Gihiir gathered and decided to march on the High Mountains. This thread should be eliminated for good, and both folks would have to fight together.

 

So here we are. Two armies marching together against the High Mountains. Today is the day of their first attack. They set camp near a small group of trees that was standing on the plains at the foot of the mountains. The small group of musicians that went with Frath has stopped a few miles before where Jorh was now with his orchestra. They are standing near the mountains. First, the horns are sounded. The tones can barely be heard by Gihiir ears. They are too low. They can be felt, however. The ground shakes as the short bursts from the horns pass by. Some small birds fly up from the trees on the mountainside.

 

Then, the large instruments are prepared. The horses snort nervously. The horn-blowers climb the instruments. They are so large, that some stairs have been built around them so people can reach the blow-holes. The sounds these produce are so low, that even Akashi have trouble hearing them. They need three people to blow in the blow-holes simultaneously. The ground starts shaking vigorously and the Gihiir are having trouble keeping their horses from running away. While the horn-blowers keep blowing short bursts on the enormous horns, the instruments are moving closer and closer to the mountains. The sound waves are so powerful, that the trees in the distance start shaking and falling. When they get even closer, big boulders start falling down, causing landslides. These are the war-machines the Akashi use.

 

It may come to no surprise that the use of music in Akashi villages is somewhat controversial. Music, sounds and instruments are commonly used in war as a weapon. Something not considered to be used in a town, and especially not indoors, except in very special locations. Most parents don't let their children play any instruments at ages younger than eighteen, even though it is not prohibited by law.
From age twenty-five, people can be schooled in actual battle-music. This training takes long, and is most of the time not finished before they are forty years old. The tuning and the playing has to be perfect in order for music to be effective in battle.

 

The war-horns that create avalanches and earth-quakes are delicate and precise instruments, despite their size. They take five years of hard work to create, and therefore only very skilled players are allowed to use them. They are the Akashi elite.

 

By this time, the front of the mountain is a complete chaos. The landslides are barely visible behind a thick curtain of dust. Still, the war-horns are moving towards the mountain.

 

Something is stirring behind the dust. Cries sound from afar. Nonhuman cries. A whole army of flying reptile people comes towards the war-horns. At the moment the Gihiir see them coming – long before the Akashi know what is coming – they gallop towards the war-horns. They have their longswords ready for attack.

 

As the creatures swoop down to attack the war-horns, they meet the steel of the Gihiir. The musicians on the wagons grab their instruments as fast as they can. The all look towards Jorh. He shouts the name of one of their war-compositions to the orchestra. There are a few pieces every army-musician should know. The piece Jorh chose, is a piece that is meant for distracting the enemy. It has even faster changes than most other pieces and has some high-pitched sounds that people with normal hearing can't hear. The instruments have to be specially tuned to make it possible. This music would distract both friend and foe from battle, and thus, before the troops went to war, all the warriors were told to wear ear plugs.

 

The effect of the high-pitched tones and dissonant notes has a greater effect on the reptile-men than expected. Some of them fall spontaneously out of the sky. Others bump into one-another in mid-air.

 

It would seem to the outsider that this type of distracting music required no conductor, but it does. Even this piece of music has a melody and structure. As Jorh's baton slashes the air and the orchestra gives all it's got, the creatures start getting closer. The elite of the Gihiir grow restless. The perfectly hammered steel of their longswords glitters in the sunlight. Their horses snort and stamp with their hooves.

 

Slashes fall behind Jorh. His heart starts beating faster. The enemy must be near now. The cries from the creatures appear to be above him. Then, in the corner of his eye, he sees Merth with a small goat's horn. She comes running towards the wagons, keeping an eye on the creatures above.

 

Jorh and Merth make eye-contact and there is a small glance of a smile on Jorh's face, just before one of the creatures swoops down and smashes the leftmost wagon to pieces. There is terror on the faces of the youngest players. The older ones have seen more fierce battles than this one so far is. Jorh sees another creature preparing for an attack and cues Merth, who blows the goat's horn. A shrill sound comes forth. Much to Jorh's relieve, the creature tries to cover it's ears against the sound. It for a split-second forgets to fly and crashes to the ground where it is finished by one of the Gihiir. Then, everything happens at once. The musicians stop playing and look in terror. Battle-cries are all around the wagons, and then, Jorh feels a brute force coming from behind. The whole wagon is teared to splinters and Jorh is launched. He lands face-down on the grass with rubble of the wagon on top of him. He feels the weight of his baton still in his hand as he faints.

 

Edited July 3, 2015 by ErianDragonborn

[billyro]

That's good. Really good, actually! I am quite immersed after getting to the end.

There are a few grammatical improvements I can see, but other than that, I'd say the way you've told the story is almost professional.


Some of the conversations were a bit hard to follow due to them all being on the same line (although this could have been derived from the copy-paste between Word and these forums).

For example, this part:

‘Slept well?’ she asks. Jorh shakes his head. ‘Not a minute.’ ‘In that case, I hope you are ready to lead the orchestra today. It always proved to be tough, but if you are not well rested, chances may be slim we make it through today.’ Jorh sighs. ‘We will see.'

... would be easier to read if it were like this:

‘Slept well?’ she asks.

Jorh shakes his head. ‘Not a minute.’

‘In that case," she replies, "I hope you are ready to lead the orchestra today. It always proved to be tough, but if you are not well rested, chances may be slim we make it through today.’

Jorh sighs. ‘We will see.'

 

 

Also, it would help to know each individual characters' age, as it helps to create a visual. I'm currently not sure if Jorh is 20 or 40 (I get the impression he is one of those).

 

 

Great work so far. :D

[ErianDragonborn]

Thanks for your comment!

I can see what you mean by the dialogue. Will use it in the future :)

[ErianDragonborn]

I was also quite pleased with part 2... After that, I think it is getting a bit messy, so I will have to rewrite that (partially)

 

Part 2:

A distant blowing of wind through long grass. A soft whining. The feel of wet earth and cool water on a bruised skin. The smell of rust. A terrible pain in the chest with every breath.

Jorh slowly opens his eyes. He immediately gets dizzy. He tries to listen for people. Footsteps or voices. He tries to remember what happened just before he was knocked unconscious. Worries about the musicians, the warriors, everyone. Would he be the only survivor?

As soon as the world stops spinning in front of his eyes, he tries to move. First his fingers, then his hand. He feels his baton rolling from his hand onto the wet grass. He hears the dripping of rain in the puddles. Slowly he tries to get up. The wood on his back moves, but is too heavy for him to lift. Then, fast footsteps come his way. Someone kneels near him. ‘Are you alive?’

‘Yes...’ Jorh can barely speak.

‘I will help you out of there.'

The man starts lifting and tossing away the wood piece by piece, until enough is gone. He then helps Jorh get up. It is a Gihiir soldier in a worn-down armour. The mismatching pieces have been slashed and bend. He looks tired and pale in the light of the full moon.

The field around them is filled with the bodies of dead people and creatures.

‘How many are... fallen?’ asks Jorh.

‘Too many. We could never win this.’ He turns around and walks to one of the fallen warriors. He must have been there as Jorh woke up. He was the whining person.

Jorh looks at the man for a while, and then looks back at the camp. There are fires burning.

Slowly, he makes his way back. Shattered instruments lay between the wood of splintered wagons. In the little light there is, Jorh sees some of the musicians. He doesn't recognize Merth as being one of them. She might have made it out of this mess.

 

Two big fires are burning. Some of the tents have been used to keep them going. Akashi and Gihiir are sitting next to each-other. Some are eating silently, others have their wounds treated by the fitter ones.

Jorh sits down at one of the fires, holding his hand to his painful ribs. His breast-plate hangs loose on one side. His left leg is one big bruise and the muscles hurt with every movement. He feels his pocket. His baton is not there. He left in on the battlefield.

 

Suddenly, he feels arms around his neck and a weight leaning on his back. A stinging pain shoots through his side.

‘I was sure you were dead! No-one could find you!’ Merth sits down next to him. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘I think I broke some ribs. What about you? Do you know how the fight ended?'

Merth starts to tell about the things that happened after the creatures launched a full attack on the orchestra. They destroyed the war-horns and most of the wagons. Many musicians died or were missing. Same goes for the warriors. None of the instruments returned.

As soon as the music stopped and the orchestra and war-horns were destroyed, the warriors got a glimpse of the Golor. He stood up in the mountains, just behind the area the landslides had destroyed. For some reason, he called his army of creatures back when all music was gone. This gave the armies of the Gihiir and Akashi the chance to return to the camp or search for friends amongst the dead.

'What about Frath? The other conductor?’

‘He stayed with the musicians at the war-horns. I think none of them made it back. But come with me. You are hurt and tired. I can see it. I will bring you back to your tent. Sleep now and worry tomorrow.'

Jorh doesn't want to sleep, but as soon as he lays his broken body on his bed, he notices how tired he is. He sighs. ‘Thanks Merth. I am glad you are here in this mess with me.’ He then closes his eyes to make the throbbing headache go away. ‘Sleep well.'

 

The sun is shining brightly through the tent as Jorh wakes up. He can barely move his body. All of his muscles are sore and his armour made the night even more uncomfortable than the beds already did. He tries to roll on his side, and get his feet on the ground. He takes the longsword he got when he accepted to join the army and leans with his arm on the cross-guard. As he gets out of the tent, he sees that the fires turned into smouldering ashes. People are already busy gathering the dead from the battlefield. The bodies are piled up with layers of wood and long grass in between. Three piles are already burning.

Jorh doesn't see Merth, so he decides to see if he can lend any helping hand out on the field. Even though he can barely walk, he could maybe steer a horse or do some counting or writing.

The first area of land has already been cleared of fallen and all usable weapons and pieces of armour have been taken back to the camp already. When walking farther into the field, he picks up a sound that doesn't come from any of the people that are walking around. He turns his head to try and find out where the sound is coming from. It sounds like a shrieking breath. Then, he sees one of the creatures. It is going ever so slightly up and down, but it is not its own breath that causes it.

Jorh kneels next to the creature and tries to lift it's wing. It is heavy for his sore muscles, but he manages to see an arm underneath it. There is someone alive laying under the creature.

Jorh takes the other wing and pulls on it with all of his weight. Slowly, the creature starts to roll over. When it all of a sudden gives way, Jorh falls on his back in the mud. He gets up and sees that the soldier is laying with his head partially in the mud. Quickly, he turns him on his side, so that he can breathe freely again. Because there are no fit people near, Jorh decides to stay with the unconscious soldier until he wakes up or someone comes.

Thick clouds start to form at the mountainside. In no time, a snow shower is making its way from the mountain to the camp. Large flakes fall from the sky. They melt away when they land on the face of the soldier. They wash away some of the mud and blood. He is a young man with long, red hair. It was rare for an Akashi to fight with a sword, but this man has a short sword and a teardrop-shaped shield laying at his side. Jorh picks up the shield and wipes some of the mud away. A snake twists it's way around a brass horn. The background of the shield has the same green colour as the clothing the soldier wears underneath his armour. He must have been rich. Poor people couldn't afford matching armour or clothing.

The soldier moves his head and opens his eyes. He quickly sits up straight but is obviously having trouble staying conscious. He rests his head in his hands. ‘What happened?’ he asks.

'The battle has been over for a day. You were laying underneath one of these creatures. I don't know how you ended up there.’

‘I was attacked by one and fought for my life. What about the others? Are there others?’

‘There are some, but not many.’

‘Well, I think I should get to know the ones that are alive better then. My name is Emrag. I am from the Hornsnake family.’

‘That explains the weapon on your shield.’

The soldier nods.

'My name is Jorh. I come from Norheld, far to the North.’

The man looks right into Jorh's eyes. ‘Are you really? My parents told me about Norheld and someone with ears better than those of anyone alive. Is that you? Is that how you found me?'

Jorh nods. ‘I heard your breath.'

'I always wanted to become musician.’

‘Why aren't you then?’ Jorh asks.

The soldier lifts one arm up. His fingers are missing. Only his thumb is left. ‘Had a horse standing on my hand when I was little. I remember nothing of it, but I couldn't play the cello since that moment. Even though our name is Hornsnake, most of my family plays the cello.’ The man smiles. ‘I don't regret it that much, though. Wielding a sword and shield to protect my people from attacks is an honourable task. I made many friends thanks to it. None of them are here, though. They fight for our town.'

'Why are you here, then? If your town needs fighting for?’

‘I have someone I care more about than my town. My two brothers went with a small group of people after these flying horrors after they plundered our town. They never returned and I want to find out what happened. If I can, I want to avenge them.’

‘That is brave of you.’

He smiles, and then looks back to the camp. 'Should we return to the camp? I could see if I know anyone.’

‘I will help you return.’

‘Thanks'.

Jorh picks up his longsword and gets up.

 

When they arrive at the camp, a young lady in a travel cloak gets up. Jorh hears Emrag mumbling some curses. The lady comes towards them.

‘Ileya. What are you doing here? Go home. Back to our town.’

She seems furious and not about to leave. ‘Our dad is mad at you for leaving the town.’

‘Let him be. I am not going to return. I will find our brothers or die avenging them.’

‘And leave our town to be destroyed?'

The pupils of the soldier get bigger and his muscles tighten. ‘If he had his way, we would only be defending our own. We would leave the rest of this world to die and rot! If this nest of creatures could be destroyed, we would have no need to defend our town! I am telling you, I am not going back. I stay here. And with that comes that I am in his debt. He saved my life.’ He points to Jorh.

‘And who is this?’ the lady asks.

'I am Jorh from Norheld. Conductor of the army.’

The lady raises one eyebrow. ‘If that is what you want, then I would not count on returning to the town. Ever. Father is getting more mad every day you stay away.’

‘Fine.’ The soldier walks past his sister and takes a seat by the fire. He gets some food of one of the two soldiers that are cooking.

Ileya glances at Jorh. ‘Try to keep him from doing anything stupid.’ She then turns around and walks to her horse.