Inharmonic (The Music Maker Series Book 1) Read online

  “It’s beautiful,” she said, turning to smile at him for the first time.

  “Thank you.” He returned her smile with one of his own. Then, taking the ocarina from her outstretched hand, he rubbed his thumb absently back and forth across the holes and shrugged. “It’s just a hobby.”

  “Hobby or not, you have a talent. Do you sell your work?”

  Pax grunted, and his smile faltered. “No. Like I said, I’m a woodsman, not a craftsman. Felling trees and refining raw materials, that’s what we do. I make things just for fun.”

  Nadja studied him. “It’s clear you love the process. The carvings alone are so intricate. They must have taken hours to do, and no one spends that kind of time on something they do ‘just for fun.’”

  “I do,” he replied.

  They sat in silence for a moment. Then, afraid she might be wading into turbulent waters, Nadja pulled back and said, “Well, whether you call yourself a craftsman or not, I’d certainly say you are. And a fine one, too. Thank you for showing me the ocarina.”

  They both turned their attention to the fire. The sun had almost disappeared behind the trees, and the flickering flames leapt in a warm, cheerful dance, hypnotizing Nadja and lulling her into a relaxed and calm state of mind. It was the first time she felt peace since fleeing her home.

  After a few moments, Pax jumped up. “We had better get your dressing changed before it’s completely dark and all we have to see by is the campfire.”

  He placed the ocarina on the stump and gathered clean bandages from the makeshift clothesline, where, Nadja guessed, her own clothes had hung to dry.

  Pax settled himself back down next to Nadja and began removing the bandages from her forearm. The white material gradually turned pink as he uncovered layer after layer, and Nadja gritted her teeth against the pain. When the old bandages were gone, she assessed the damage.

  The wound was deep and jagged. Bits of flesh had been replaced in some semblance of order. Though the wound did not appear to be infected, the surface of her arm glistened with a light sheen. She flinched as Pax dabbed at the gash with his fingertips. The bleeding had waned to a slight ooze, and the wound was healing well after only a day.

  With a frown, Pax reached into his pocket and removed a small tin. Letting go of her arm, he took off the lid and dug his fingers into the little pot of shiny white ointment. He reached over and rubbed the salve down the length of her forearm, gently massaging it into her wound. The pain relief was immediate, and Nadja looked up at him in surprise.

  “Oh, come on,” he said, meeting her eyes with a half smile. “You don’t really think a seasoned woodsman like myself wanders off on a quest unprepared, do you? Let’s just say you don’t spend your days playing with sharp objects without getting your fair share of cuts.”

  “But the pain is gone!” exclaimed Nadja as Pax began to wrap her arm with the fresh bandages.

  “I’m sorry to say that effect is only temporary, but the salve does help the wound heal and keeps infection from setting in.”

  “What’s in it?”

  “I’m not sure. It’s my mother’s recipe, and none of us leave home without it.” Pax finished tying up the bandages and handed the tin to Nadja. “You might want to rub this on your other wounds too. Since you’re awake now, I guess you can handle that part. Although, if you’d like, I could help you with that, too,” he said, flashing her a grin.

  Nadja arched an eyebrow and returned his smile with one of her own. “Thank you, but you have already done so much for me. I’d hate to trouble you further,” she replied with a chuckle, slipping the tin into her skirt pocket.

  “Speaking of my mother,” said Pax, his face becoming more serious, “she should take a look at your arm. I’m no healer, and she has seen more than one of us through some pretty bad injuries. She’ll be able to get you patched up properly and make sure you don’t take a turn for the worse.”

  Nadja’s body turned to stone as Pax spoke. The comfort of the evening dissolved in an instant, replaced by a sense of claustrophobia, as if all the trees surrounding their little glen were pressing in on her, trapping her where she sat.

  What was she thinking, relaxing by the fire, enjoying the company of the handsome stranger who had come to her aid? She had killed a man! She had fled the scene, and if, or when, the Elders learned the truth of the matter, she would be found and killed for her crime. Her only hope was to make it to her uncle in Cantio, and she had already lost a full day’s progress. And now, Pax wanted to take her to his family’s home. This was not a part of the plan.

  Pax searched her face.

  Clearing her throat, Nadja tried to relax her muscles and chose her words carefully. “I don’t think that’s necessary.” she said, her lips pulling into a tight smile.

  “I do,” he replied. “Your arm should have stopped bleeding by now. And I have no other supplies or medicines to help you. But, if you’ll come with me back to my family’s home, my mother will have everything you need.”

  “That is kind of you, but my family is expecting me in a few days, and I’ve already lost a whole day of travel time. I don’t want to worry them.”

  “We can send a messenger to them as soon as we reach home to let them know you’re safe. Surely they will understand your delay considering the circumstances. Where did you say they lived?”

  Nadja paused for a beat, her eyes narrowing. “I didn’t.”

  “Look, I just want to make sure you’ll be all right.” Pax let out an exasperated sigh. “I tell you what. It’s late, and you still need some good rest. Why don’t you sleep on it and see how you feel when you wake up? You can take the tent. I’ll be comfortable out here by the fire. We can talk about it again in the morning.”

  “Fine,” Nadja agreed. No way was she going to feel differently in the morning, but she seized the opportunity to end the conversation. Then, in an effort to draw his mind away from that line of thinking, she changed subjects.

  “I was wondering something about what you said earlier. If you haven’t seen an Auldwood Oak before, and you don’t know where one is, how will you know when you’ve found it?”

  Pax’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I’ll know. My grandfather helped fell one over fifty years ago. He said it’s enormous—way bigger than any other trees in the forest, with multicolored bark and branches which are bent and twisted like a thousand snakes. And there will be no others like it as far as the eye can see.”

  “Multicolored bark? Do you mean gray and white and a sort of orangish brown?”

  “Yes,” replied Pax, eyeing her curiously.

  “With bunches of big, light green leaves.”

  “Yes.” Pax’s hand shot out and grabbed Nadja’s good arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “How do you know that?”

  “I’ve seen it. I took shelter in a tree just like that only two nights ago. It was beautiful, like some magical thing from a children’s fairy story.”

  “And do you remember where it was?” Pax’s body was practically vibrating with anticipation.

  A smile crept over Nadja’s face. “It’s no more than a day’s walk east of the spring.”

  Pax leapt to his feet and let out a whoop of joy. The firelight flickered in his eyes, and excitement shone on his face like a beacon. Nadja thought she glimpsed the little boy he had once been grinning out at her. She stood up, giggling along with him.

  “Do you know what this means?” he asked, swooping her into his arms and twirling her around. “You, Pretty Lady, have solved my quest!” He set her down and took her face in his hands. Before Nadja knew what was happening, he pressed a swift kiss to her lips. Then, just as quickly, he released her.

  “Tomorrow, at first light,” he continued, pacing back and forth in front of the fire, “I’ll pack camp and head east. Once I locate the tree, I can go home to get help with the felling. From what my grandfather told me, it’ll be more than a one-man job.” His movements halted as he turned and looked at Nadja, who was still standing like a sta
tue where he placed her. “Oh, no! I’m sorry, I almost forgot. We’ll head home first. Mother can take care of your injuries, and I’ll gather help while we’re there.”

  Nadja tried to shake the spinning sensation in her head and gathered her thoughts. “But you’re so close. And I really am feeling much better. If you leave in the morning, you can make it to the tree before nightfall.”

  “No,” said Pax, taking her by the hand. “Getting your wounds seen to is the most important thing right now. That Auldwood Oak has probably stood there for over a thousand years. It can wait a few more days.”

  Nadja’s hand warmed in his grip, and her lips still tingled from his kiss. Suddenly uncomfortable, she pulled away.

  “Well then. We had better turn in for the night. It sounds like we have quite a day ahead of us tomorrow.” With that, she retrieved her pack.

  “Here,” said Pax, walking toward the stump. “Bring your lantern. I noticed it was out of oil when I found your things. You’ll need it. That tent is as dark as pitch once the sun sets.” He refilled her lantern and lit the little wick.

  “Thank you.”

  Nadja turned and headed towards the tent. When she reached the flap, she stopped and turned back to see Pax arranging his bedroll near the fire.

  “Pax?” she called.

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you again, really, for all you’ve done for me.”

  She saw his white teeth gleam in the darkness and knew he was giving her another one of his heart-stopping grins.

  “Sleep well, Pretty Lady.”

  Nadja entered the tent and dimmed her lantern to almost nothing.

  She sat in the darkness for what seemed like hours. Pax’s breathing had fallen into an even rhythm of sleep a while ago, but she wanted to make sure he was down for the night before making her move. She raised the wick of her lantern slightly and brought it near the leather bag in which Pax kept his ocarina. Digging through its contents, her fingers brushed past small carving tools, a handful of rough stones, and various other supplies before finding what she was hoping for. Matches. She took out the packet and removed only a handful before placing the rest back into his bag. As she did so, she also palmed one of the stones.

  She stored the matches and stone in her own pack and removed the tin her mother had given her. The contents of the tin bumped and rattled around, and she did her best to muffle the noise as she removed a few of the pearls. Once she was sure her movements had not disturbed Pax, she lifted the tent flap and crept towards the stump. Being short and light had always given Nadja the advantage of stealth when playing games with the other Wanderer children, and it still served her well in her adulthood. When she reached the stump, she dug into the rations bag, removing a few pieces of bread and fruit, being sure to leave a few days’ worth for Pax. She slipped her hand into her pocket and wrapped her fingers around the tin of ointment Pax had given her. He didn’t mean it to be a permanent gift, but right now, it was the only medicine she had. She withdrew her hand, leaving the tin where it was.

  She hated taking from him after all he had done for her, adding thief to her growing list of crimes. Placing the pearls on top of the stump, she knew they would more than cover the monetary loss of the things she had taken. She also hoped they would also help lessen the anger and frustration she was sure Pax would feel when he awoke to find her gone. But he was determined to help her whether she wanted his help or not. He may have the best intentions, but the last thing she wanted was to drag someone else into her own mess. She hoped the lure of the Auldwood Oak would be enough to keep him from trying to find her. The longer she stayed with Pax, the closer any possible Wanderer scouts could come. And what if he found out what she had done?

  No. Getting to Cantio and to her uncle was her one chance.

  Steeling her resolve, Nadja glanced one last time at Pax’s sleeping form and disappeared into the forest’s shadows.

  Chapter 7

  The next few days disappeared in a blur. Nadja’s wounds were healing rapidly, thanks to Pax’s ointment. Between his rations and what game she was able to bag with her blowpipe, now that the pain in her arm was tolerable, she kept her belly full. She spent her days on foot and her evenings by the fire playing familiar and comforting tunes on her flute. While most of her thoughts focused on survival, from time to time she let her mind drift back to her meeting with Pax. He was so kind to her. She knew she owed him her life, and she hated the way she had left him, a literal thief in the night. She thought of the way his lips felt when he kissed her.

  Her first kiss.

  Others in Amrantir might find it strange he had been Nadja’s first kiss, but as a female of the Wanderer tribe, it wasn’t out of the ordinary. She was betrothed to Luca for most of her life, so none of the other boys in the village ever dared steal a kiss. And Luca, even as they celebrated their betrothal, had never really kissed her, holding instead to the staunch Wanderer tradition of saving the first kiss for their wedding day. The memory of the way Pax’s solid arms had wrapped around her waist as he spun her around, and the dizziness in her head when his lips had pressed against hers caused her stomach to flutter and her face to grow warm.

  Nadja made good time, and when she came across a road a few days after leaving Pax, she was filled with a renewed sense of hope. She didn’t follow the road directly, choosing instead to keep it in sight as she traveled under the cover of the forest, still wary of anyone she might meet along the way. Each passing day, she saw more people traveling along the road, letting her know she was getting closer to Cantio. On one day in particular, she chanced to emerge from the forest when she spotted a traveling peddler walking in the opposite direction. Her once sweet pair of leather slippers, now riddled with holes and barely clinging to her feet, were replaced by a pair of sturdy walking boots and extra-thick socks.

  Two days later, as she ate her midday meal under the shade of an elm, the mellow tones of an instrument Nadja did not recognize floated past on the late summer breeze. The tune wasn’t one she knew, but the effortless sound of the notes piqued her interest. She packed away the uneaten portion of crust, shouldered her pack, and crept towards the sound.

  A few minutes later, the forest opened. Keeping to the trees to avoid discovery, she surveyed the swath of land before her. Long ago, the area must have looked much like the surrounding forest. But, now, it was a lush, verdant vineyard. Row upon row of grapevines dripped with densely packed bunches of deep, purple orbs. Every vine was ripe for harvesting, except for a small patch along the north edge. The ground in that area was dry and scorched as if touched by fire. The music came from that direction, and Nadja watched in wonder.

  Small, green shoots surrounded by halos of rich soil had been replanted at intervals beneath the repaired trellis wire. A woman strolled along the rows playing a wind instrument whose body and bell wrapped around her torso, up and across her back, and over her right shoulder. As she passed a shoot, the vine sprung to life, darting upwards and snaking around the wire. New leaves burst forth and tiny tendrils coiled like springs opposite them. In the space of a moment, the young vine transformed before her eyes, matching the rest of the vineyard in appearance, but for the grapes. It wouldn’t be ready for this year’s harvest, but it would flower and bloom in the spring along with the rest of the vines.

  Nadja shuddered as the woman continued to play, and the process repeated itself over and over again. Such blatant disregard for the natural order of things was one of the main reasons the Wanderers lived apart from the rest of Amrantir. Repulsed by the sight before her, Nadja retreated into the safety of the forest and continued on her way.

  One afternoon, a week after leaving Pax’s camp, the sound of rushing water met her ears. She picked up her pace and continued to follow the road. The sound grew louder until the road curved suddenly, crossing Nadja’s path and forcing her out of the forest.

  She recognized the Nostirivin River, even though she had never seen this part of it before. The yearly migration o
f the Wanderers never took them this far north, but Nadja would know that river anywhere. Half of her childhood was spent in and around its waters. Nadja’s heart leapt for joy, knowing her journey was almost at an end. Turning south, she followed the road as it wound its way along the banks of the river. Two days later, Nadja caught her first glimpse of Cantio.

  Situated where the Kalmari joined with the Nostirivin River, Cantio shone before her like the crown of Amrantir. A singular smooth, stone wall encompassed the ring-shaped city, and though Nadja had never visited it herself, she’d learned a little about the capital over the years. The city itself was laid out in three concentric circles, with the outer two divided, by roads, into five equal sections each. Most of the city’s residents, primarily comprised of the Amrantirian elite, lived in the outer ring. The middle ring was filled with markets, theaters, and businesses of all sorts, with one-fifth dedicated exclusively to housing the Delegates Hall, among other governmental buildings.

  But most impressively, rising from the center circle, was the Music Conservatory. Its bright, cream-colored limestone walls glittered in the midday sunlight like a great jewel. The conservatory stood like a castle, the tallest building in Cantio by far, and the foundation upon which the identity of Amrantir rested. This was where musicians and craftsmen came to hone their skills before beginning work in their chosen profession. The Music Conservatory was often spoken about with much derision within the Wanderers. They were outliers in their beliefs that music should only be used for enjoyment, and not to manipulate the natural world. Whatever Nadja’s opinion about the purpose of the conservatory, she could not deny the feeling of wonderment it instilled.