Spoils of War Ch. 03

"Are you going to the banks of the river," I sing over my lute-strumming, "to the shores of the sea, or the lands far beyond? Are you flying away like the cold of the winter? Will you recall me while you are gone?"

My voice starts out hesitant, but I gradually gain confidence, rising to my feet and standing with my back to the fire so I might face Alania and Keira. The drunk man wobbles his way over to the log where the Elvaran sit and flops down in front of it, lying on his back. I continue to sing.

"Are you striding away with the sunset? Are you fading like moonlight wanes with the dawn? Will you return and sit here beside me? Remember this moment while you are gone."

A small crowd has begun to gather, but I hardly notice them. My eyes are bleary with tears, my vision hazy with memories of home. My heart pounds with excitement and sadness. I can only keep singing, I cannot stop my words from flowing, my hands from playing, or my memories from returning. This moment is so like home, yet different in almost every way.

"I have waited many seasons," I sing louder now, my voice resonating in the night air, "I've watched for your ship by the light of each day. You never returned, oh light of my spirit. I'll always remember when you went away."

I finish the song with a drawn-out chord on the lute, letting the notes fade away, backed only by the crackle of the fire. It is then that I realize the whole of the square has gone silent and all eyes are fixed upon me. I stand still, looking about me like a nervous animal, not knowing what to do.

The applause starts first with Alania and Keira, then erupts throughout the rest of the crowd, cheers and clapping rolling like a wave over me. I grin widely, bowing in a deliberately theatrical manner, having fun with my unexpected audience.

"I'll take requests!" I call out. "But only if you request songs I know."

This sparks laughter from the men and women alike. I strike up a more lively tune, a funny song about a drunk old fisherman bickering with a black bear over his latest catch. The song compels everyone, even Alania the chieftain, into clapping and singing along once they've heard the chorus a few times. More applause follows the tune, and the several others I play before I decide to go sit down with Keira and Alania. Keira embraces me passionately and kisses me with overwhelming intensity.

"You amaze me!" she declares, not letting go of me, holding me in her lap. "My little Sven is an astonishing one."

"That was beautiful!" Alania adds. "You are quite a prize for our tribe, Sven."

I can hardly contain my pride. My sadness at the memory of home has, for the moment, faded and been replaced by the euphoria of performance. My heart flutters, my mind is a blur of joy. I am about to rise and play another round of songs when a sharp cry emanates from somewhere in the settlement. A high-pitched scream of mortal agony. A female scream.

Keira and Alania leap upright and I hasten to follow as the crowd tries to collectively move in the direction of the troubling sound. I stick close to Keira, who roughly shoulders her way through the tightly packed cluster of people. When we at last reach the source of the sound, we stop dead in our tracks. The little Elvaran girl, Alma's niece, whom I consoled a few days ago is lying on the ground, her beautiful eyes staring blankly at the heavens. Her throat has been violently gashed open and she lies in a puddle of her own blood. Beside her head, a knife is stuck blade-first in the blood-soaked earth...