Taylor Reed Hudson

Overture

The nóts were everywhere.

   Wispy balls of light–like tiny suns–each no bigger than a child’s fist, glowing in a rainbow of changing colors. Thousands of them floated throughout the ancient castle ruins currently serving as the rebel base. They drifted along eroded stone walls, passing in and out of the cracks. They blew between the clovers growing thick over the jungle floor. They hovered above, up among the petals of the tallest flowers reaching heights of up to ten meters. They wafted on the breeze of the humid air, circled around Geamuan’s ankles and along the white sleeves of his tunic. A few even wavered down to rest in his dark violet hair tied back in a long ponytail.

   Go anywhere in the world, the nóts were always there. More normal and prevalent than fish in the ocean or clouds in the sky. Sometimes they clustered together, other times they were more spread out, but rarely did they leave more than a square meter of empty space. On their own, they did nothing but exist. By default, they simply floated through the air in peaceful innocence.

   But not now.

   Now, they were anything but peaceful.

   And when the nóts weren’t peaceful, nothing in all the world of Celeol could match their power. They flashed and jolted through the dark of predawn, causing destruction and tearing the rebel base apart in explosive blasts of power.

   Music filled the air.

   Harmonizers soared in from above, closing in on the rebels below. Pairs of golden wings marked the belts of their all-black uniforms. These weren’t just any Harmonizers. They were the Wings of Harmony, the most elite unit of the federation’s military law enforcement.

   The rebel base sat a few kilometers south of Amhadón Peak–not exactly hidden, but well out of sight. Geamuan had specifically chosen these condemned ruins because no one came here anymore without reason. Of all the luck! To have been discovered right as they’d prepared themselves to attack the castle at the first sliver of dawn! Sod it! How did they find them?

   Past the descending Harmonizers, Geamuan found his answer. A finch of pure golden feathers circled amid the tallest petals of the flower jungle. That crit-blasted bird! Always scouting all over the place. And if it was here, its lemey owner couldn’t be far behind.

   The Harmonizers attacked, and the rebels fought back, and the nóts unleashed chaos upon the battlefield. Every one of the tiny balls of light held unfathomable power, but the nóts would never do anything on their own. However, there was one thing that could bring out and even control their abilities.

   And one thing only.

   Geamuan drew the guitar from his back. He unsheathed the pick from his pocket. Instrument in hand, he raised his arm and slashed at the strings, striking up an aggressive Rage tune. The nóts responded immediately. Hundreds of them spiraled up towards the golden finch in a spearing attack, moving in perfect sync with the instrumental Geamuan played.

   The finch saw the attack coming and responded with a whistling melody of its own. The nóts held no bias, and they responded to the bird’s music as well as they did Geamuan’s, creating a swift breeze that perfectly aided the finch’s wings and allowed it to avoid Geamuan’s attack and escape into the chaos of battle.

   Nóts shot back and forth in a variety of emotionally expressive outbursts, each unique to the individual musician. Armed with various string and wind instruments, most of the enemy Harmonizers specialized in Symphonic or Spirit music. Geamuan had gathered a variety of specialists from around the world for his rebellion, and they fought back with skill to match the federation’s best. But the Harmonizers defended well, manipulating the nóts to divert oncoming attacks, sometimes sending them right back. For a government that preached against violence, the federation’s Harmonizers sure knew how to defend against it.

   A fresh wave of enemy reinforcements rode in on the backs of pitch-black chaser wolves. Several rebels aimed their attacks to take one down, but the great beast tilted its head up to release a musical howl that brought hundreds of nóts together in the form of a colorful wall of light that blocked the attack. The wolf lowered the pitch of its howl to a more soothing melody, and the wall of nóts rose like a tidal wave, crashing upon the rebels and sweeping them away like a raging current. The glowing deluge came for Geamuan, but he acted fast and strummed a lively tune on his guitar. His new melody guided the oncoming nóts around him like water flowing around a rock, after which they scattered back into the air, where they resumed their careless floating about. At least until the next melody sounded.

   A Harmonizer whipped his violin bow across the strings, and the nóts formed an arc shape that slashed at Geamuan. Under the right musical instruction, they would cut through him easily as they would a stalk of wheat.

   The falsetto of a familiar singing voice scattered the nóts before they could strike him. Geamuan turned to face his savior. “Lilín!”

   She smiled and stuck her tongue out at him, the wind of the scattered nóts whipping at her golden hair. “Are you okay?”

   “For now. But they’re overrunning us.”

   All around, Harmonizers captured rebel forces, relieving them of their instruments and gagging them so they couldn’t sing. Binding their hands and feet so they couldn’t dance. Geamuan had hoped to save as much supplies as possible, but they needed to cut their losses and retreat. “Go find CV and Sparx and get everyone out the back exit!”

   “What about you?”

   “I’ll be right behind you. I’ve got to at least retrieve…” He paused, not wanting to say it out loud for any Harmonizers that might overhear. “You know yourself. Just go! I’ll meet up with you!”

   Lilín took a swig from her waterskin, then rushed back into battle, belting out Symphonic melodies in the fifth octave. The nóts sparked with yellow flashes, several lightning bolts jetting out to strike down the Harmonizers.

   While she distracted them, Geamuan retreated underground, where the Harmonizers had already begun to infiltrate. Two oboe players hopped over the edge of the stairs and into the tunnel with him, landing with a quick-tempoed melody that sent a single nót shooting towards Geamuan’s guitar in an attempt to destroy his main weapon. He leaned back to avoid it, then jumped to avoid another group of nóts winding towards his legs.

   They aimed to restrain him rather than kill. Ficers probably thought not harming enemies gave them the moral high ground. But Geamuan wouldn’t be fooled. Nothing could make him forget the reason he’d started this rebellion.

   Showing no such reservations, Geamuan played a low, growling tune on his guitar. A group of nóts floating over the ruin walls latched themselves to a stone brick and flung it into the head of the nearest Harmonizer. Geamuan crescendoed into an electrifying instrumental that made the nóts spark and crackle before striking the other Harmonizer through the chest. Both enemies felled, Geamuan sprinted onwards. Deep beneath the ruins, only the glow of the nóts lit his way. By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, he had enough adrenaline that he didn’t bother with the nóts and simply kicked the door down himself.

   He was already there.

   Even with his back to him, Geamuan would recognize Olubhórn Ceseo anywhere. Not just the leader of the Wings of Harmony, but the leader of the entire Harmonizer organization, this man was.    One of the Seven Grands of the Federation. In addition to the typical Harmonizer uniform, he wore a black ivy cap that was a wee bit too big for him and carried a shamisen strapped over his shoulders. A musical trill whistled down the stairs behind Geamuan, and the golden finch from earlier passed over his shoulder, zipping forwards to land on Olubhórn’s shoulder, its golden feathers matching his messy hair.

   The Grand Harmonizer turned around but kept his eyes on what he held in his hands, as though he still thought himself the only person in the room. “So this is the secret weapon you planned to overthrow Cai with,” Olubhórn said in a distinct Paddleback Islander accent. He spoke in a calm voice, as though the raging battle above didn’t exist. He pressed only a single key, but the instrument made an entire melody’s worth of musical tones.

   The nóts scattered from Olubhórn as if fleeing a predator, creating a bubble of empty air around him until the sound of the instrument died down and the nóts drifted back in like water flowing to fill a gap.

   “I see,” Olubhórn said. “Clever.” He smashed the instrument over a stone table. The magic inside the instrument flashed and sparkled as it died out, Geamuan’s secret weapon scattering across the floor in pieces.

   “No!” Geamuan bellowed with all his fury and hatred, only to get no reaction from the man. Not even the bird on his shoulder flinched. “Lemey bastard!”

   “This foolish rebellion is done,” Olubhórn said. “Surrender. You know your followers will all be spared. You’re talented. We could use someone like you among the Harmonizers.”

   “Give back Miberí and Camua. Then we’ll talk.”

   Olubhórn sighed. “You think you’re the only one who’s lost people.”

   Geamuan took in the situation, ignoring Olubhórn’s monologuing. He had the Grand Harmonizer cornered. This was his chance, it was. Geamuan cut him off mid-sentence by striking up a violent Rage tune. The nóts burst into pure crackling energy, lashing at Olubhórn, but the lemey leaped aside as if he’d expected it. His cloak whipped around him as he twirled in the air before landing back on his feet, by which time he’d drawn his shamisen and was halfway through a Spirit tune.

   The nóts didn’t respond to Spirit music with fire or lightning or explosive blasts as they did to the Rage style. Olubhórn’s Spirit music turned the nóts a light green, and they slashed around the room, cutting everything in sight with sharp blasts of wind. They sliced Geamuan’s body in several places, but Olubhórn avoided critical injury or hitting vital areas. Patronizing fic!

   Geamuan gritted his teeth through the pain and continued his own Rage instrumental. Over Olubhórn’s head, the ceiling exploded, and rubble fell, but with some sharp plucking at his shamisen, the nóts swarmed like a frenzy of fish, slicing the rubble into harmless dust.

   The room rumbled around them; it would collapse any moment. At Geamuan’s musical command, the nóts generated a force similar to a blast of wind that sent him flying backwards up the stairs. He emerged above ground and landed amidst the field of clovers.

   So long, Olubhórn.

   The rest of the rebels should’ve escaped out the back exit by now, but just to be safe, Geamuan played one last Rage tune, and the nóts attacked the pillars standing around the entrance to the ruins. Destroyed at the base, they toppled to block the tunnel.

   More of the ruins crumbled in on themselves, pillars and eroded structures falling apart. Just as certainty settled in that Geamuan had finally buried the Grand Harmonizer, the falling boulders stopped midair. Pieces of stone floated off the ground, hanging weightless under the power of the nóts infusing them.

   From the other side of the debris came the airy breath of a bamboo flute. Olubhórn casually walked up the stairs, shamisen on his back, now playing a tranquil Spirit tune on his flute with one hand while the other gently pushed floating boulders aside. Once he reached the top, he ceased his playing, and the nóts released the rubble, leaving it to fall, the ruins collapsing to dust. He added a last gentle trill, and the nóts created a soft breeze that blew the dust away to clear the air.

   Around Geamuan, the Harmonizers had already taken over the area, the battle ending as they led the majority of Geamuan’s rebels away.

   “Are we done now?” Olubhórn said, as though this were some boring chore he had to take care of before breakfast.

   Geamuan gripped his guitar, arm raised, preparing to continue the fight to the bitter end. But the pounding feet of an approaching chaser wolf drew both of their eyes to the side, where Lilín came riding up at top speed. She flung herself off the wolf, landing between them. With a deep breath, she threw her voice into a series of high Symphonic vocalizations. In a sonic burst, the nóts sent Olubhórn flying.

   “Time to go!”

   Geamuan hated leaving that crit-blasted lemey alive, but Lilín was right. The two hopped onto the chaser wolf, and Lilín kicked it into motion. As they dashed away from the battlefield, Geamuan looked back, hoping to see the Grand Harmonizer at least injured, but only found him back on his feet, brushing the dust off his shoulders. The golden finch circled above him. Geamuan readied his guitar, prepared to attack should the bird pursue, but instead, it perched on Olubhórn’s shoulders, who did nothing to send it after them, nor did any other Harmonizers attempt to pursue.

   They didn’t need to. After an attack like this, the Sorceric Liberators were critting finished. Their base and most of their resources gone, secret weapon destroyed, and most of Geamuan’s followers captured.

   But Geamuan wasn’t done yet. He’d never be done. Not when he had nothing more to lose. And he still had a few tricks left, he did.

***

After a few hours of riding, Geamuan and Lilín arrived at an abandoned village in a valley blanketed in clover meadows. Derelict cottages had long overgrown with vines, lilies, and marigolds, and the only current residents appeared to be a herd of wild goats. Those who’d escaped had gathered here as well and were after getting settled. The pack wolves had been left to their own business, and a few groups played Spice music to spark campfires with the nóts. Geamuan and Lilín appeared the last to arrive.

   Safe for the time being, the two dismounted, and Geamuan immediately kicked at a loose piece of hemwood lying on the ground. “So ficing close, we were!”

   “I’d ask how ye are, but I think ye already answered.” The smooth, deep voice snapped Geamuan’s head towards the approaching brothers, CV and Sparx.

   Geamuan sighed with relief. “You two made it out.”

   “Good to see ye, wolf,” CV said, giving Geamuan his unique front and back hand slaps in greeting.

   But Geamuan couldn’t hold the smile as he scoped the camp, estimating barely a hundred. “Is this all that escaped?”

   “‘Fraid so,” CV said.

   “What about supplies?”

   “Eh, saved a bit,” Sparx said in a much higher voice than his older brother. “Good lot of it might be banjaxed though…” He trailed off as he looked between Geamuan, Lilín, and the wolf they’d arrived on, panic in his eyes growing at what he didn’t find. “Teo, teo! Don’t tell me we lost the ke–”

   “It’s gone,” Geamuan said. “Olubhórn found it. Smashed it to pieces.”

   “Fuuuuuuck!” Sparx rolled his head, entire body swiveling a full revelation with the motion. “I was flat out a whole day buildin’ that!”

   “What’s the plan now?” Lilín asked.

   Geamuan sighed, rubbing stress from his forehead. “I need to think. But don’t get too comfortable. It won’t take the federation long to find us here.”

   “Know any other places we can stay?” CV asked.

   “A few. Just… give me some time to restrategize.” Geamuan stepped away and walked around the village outskirts to lament their losses and clear his mind.

   It wasn’t over, but sod it, could they have possibly suffered a worse setback!? And they were so ready! Had they not been taken by surprise, they’d have likely been on their way to the castle now to overthrow the Grand Maestro. Olubhórn! That crit-blasted lemey shite! Always one step ahead!

   On the other side of the village, Geamuan passed an old sign, stuck in the ground at a broken angle. The text had faded, but he could still make out the Nine Laws of Harmony inscribed.

   The individual states of the federation were free to run themselves as they saw fit; only the Nine Laws of Harmony were universal. Posted everywhere from schools to government buildings to nearly every street corner. And he couldn’t remember the last home he’d been in that didn’t have them hung somewhere. A few nóts had clustered together over portions of the sign, but Geamuan didn’t bother brushing them aside, for he knew every word of the Nine Laws by heart.

The Nine Laws of Harmony

1.

The nóts favor no instrument.

Though we come in many styles, we are all people. Not age, sex, race, intelligence, nor authority makes any life more or less valuable than another.

2.

Logic composes no masterpieces.

A fool accomplishes nothing. But logic and reason are only useful tools. Passion and feeling are what guide and inspire us towards greatness. A wise composer trusts the heart and gut instinct over the head.

3.

No conductor, no tempo.

A society without leadership has no direction and is doomed to chaos. Choose for yourselves competent leaders and show them their appropriately earned respect.

4.

No orchestra, no music.

But no individual runs anything alone. While final decisions lie with the leader, a wise one respects and listens to those below, for it is the teamwork of the orchestra (guided by the conductor) that creates a beautiful symphony.

5.

The nóts favor orchestras.

The pack will always succeed over the lone wolf. Cooperate as a society. Give trust and loyalty to your fellow humans and share that which you earn together.

6.

Music is a universal language.

The Grand Maestro encourages the learning of many beautiful tongues. However, Criptenic shall be the primary language taught in all schools. Through a universal language, we are united as one world, free of barriers.

7.

Music is never silent.

Never censor your words nor silence another. Only through honesty do we achieve trust and success. Speak humbly in the interest of educating without fear of offending. In turn, listen in the interest of learning without taking offense.

8.

Aggressive tunes only destroy.

Harsh melodies only make the nóts destroy. People are the same. Show love and compassion to your fellow humans. Solve disagreements through discourse, not violence. Converse to find truth, not to be right.

   Admittedly, those first eight weren’t the worst guidelines. On the contrary, Geamuan could agree with and even support such ideals.

   It was the Ninth Law that put his instrument out of tune. The one outlier that stood out among the others as though a different person had written it. The one law that really made Geamuan’s strings snap.

9.

Blooming Flowers shall be given to the Grand Maestro.

All women between the ages of 15 and 30 days are subject as potential tributes to Cai Sinneá, Grand Maestro of the federation and ruler of Celeol. Should any woman be taken to his bed, she shall be returned immediately after with the title and privileges of Blossomed Flower.

   Images of Geamuan’s late twin daughters swam through his mind. Memories he wished he could turn to for feelings of nostalgic warmth, but which now only filled him with loathing. In a slash of rage, Geamuan drew not his guitar, but the other weapon he kept at his side and used it to cut down the sign.

   “Y’know,” Lilín said, “others may question why you use such a crude weapon.”

   Geamuan hadn’t noticed her approach. He gazed down at the unique foreign weapon in his hand, glimmering in the early morning light. “I find the design fascinating. Besides, the secret weapon we’d planned to use against Cai would’ve affected us as well. A backup weapon would’ve been necessary.”

   “Good news!” Lilín said in an upbeat tone. “Whoever abandoned this village left behind a store of instruments. Not a lot, but they’re well preserved. See! We’re already starting to restock our supplies!”

   Despite everything, she always kept a positive attitude. In a situation this dreary, perhaps it was inappropriate, but Geamuan supposed every rebellion needed a personality like hers to keep their spirits up.

   Lilín noticed the cut-down sign. “Thinking about them?”

   “Always.”

   “Still need time alone?”

   He didn’t answer.

   Lilín put her hands on her hips. “Guess we all need some time to ourselves after that debacle.” She reached her arms high in a loud stretch, then stripped naked. “Hold these for me, will you?” She tossed him her shorts and shawl, which he almost dropped in surprise.

   “Where are you going?”

   “I saw a lake back there. I need a good swim. Make sure no one follows me.”

   As if they would. Only Lilín would be in the mood for a swim after what just happened. “Don’t take too long. Like I said, we can’t stay here.”

   She took a few steps away before stopping to look back, her face showing a bit more seriousness. “So… what’s the plan now?” Lilín’s body became a silhouette, and a sudden glare behind her stabbed Geamuan’s eyes as the first sliver of sun poked its long dormant head over the horizon, casting warmth over the valley.

   Day had come at last.

   The glow of the nóts was eternally present, but nothing lit up the wide landscape as the sun did. Shadows shrank under the rising dawn painting pale colors across the grey shapes of the valley, and the world cleared into an image Geamuan recognized.

   This lake... That hill…

   He knew where they were now. And it gave him an idea with which to answer Lilín’s question. “Soporó Village,” he whispered.

   “Eh?”

   “It’s not far from here.”

   “Oh! The place where that Hégeo woman lives, right? One of your correspondents?”

   Geamuan nodded. “Been prattling for days she has about that young girl of hers. Swears she’ll be instrumental in overthrowing the Grand Maestro. Perhaps it be time we pay this mystery girl a visit.”