Modern Magick

Music and Misadventure: 14

'The Yllanfalen are a fine people, all told,' my Father began. 'Noble, enlightened, highly talented. But where there is power, there will always be those with a desire to seize it at any cost. So it was thirty years ago, when the old king passed and the time came for another to step into the role.

'I'd travelled into the kingdom of Yllanfalen because I was a student of music at the time, and of magick. I wanted to develop the combined arts, and where better to do that? They are rightly legendary for their prowess at magickal melody and song. I knew nothing about the succession, and cared less. I just wanted to play.

'And play I did, when my turn came around. What I did not know was that the lyre had been, by some means, corrupted, before it fell into my hands. Its ancient song no longer worked as intended. Instead of selecting a suitable monarch by its own judgement, it would simply bestow the crown on the next person to play it. It was meant to fall into other hands than mine; by some accident, I received it instead.

'But it did not choose me, nor did I choose to accept the role. I didn't want it. The night dissolved into chaos after that, for I was unpopular with everyone. She who had intended to take up the lyre and the monarchy both was furious with me, as you may imagine. The rest of the Yllanfalen were furious with us, too: me for being human, and the lyre for daring to install one over them as ruler.

'They declared the lyre broken, and me an exile. Well, I was happy to go! I tried to leave the lyre with the effigy of old King Evelaern on the hill, but I couldn't, somehow. So I threw it into the water. I found that the sprites were minded to obey me; exile I might be, but I was still the king by their law. So they took me home, and... I have never been back there since.'

I digested all this in silence for a moment. 'So when they said the king had passed, they meant they'd thrown him out.'

'They were probably speaking of the old king. Many among the Yllanfalen still consider the lyre's last choice invalid, and fairly enough. I wasn't really chosen.'

Jay said, 'And they're so happy with the idea of a human for a king, they'd rather have none at all.'

Father smiled faintly. 'If you consider how superior they look to our eyes, only imagine how inferior we appear to theirs.'

Mother was silent among the wreckage of all her wild plans. When I saw the look of utter dismay in her eyes, I lost some of my desire to eviscerate her. Six years' work crushed inside of three minutes.

Father wasn't so kind. 'So you see, Delia, your daughter—'

'Our daughter,' she interrupted, almost snarling the words.

'—has no right to the monarchy at all, and they would never accept her even if she did. Such dreams ought to be put away.'

Mother shrugged, and offered me the lyre. 'She can still have the lyre to go with those pipes. The Yllanfalen don't seem to want it anyway.'

I put my hands behind my back. 'No thanks. That thing scares the living daylights out of me.'

Jay, though, interceded — and not quite on my behalf. 'Ves, the fact that you're the only one who seems so drawn to it... that might be significant.'

'What.'

'The way your eyes reflect its light. Why? There's some kind of connection between you and it that neither your mother nor I are subject to.'

'Neither is your father,' Mother put in.

'Doesn't mean it's a good connection,' I argued. 'And it's probably just responding to the palpable greed in my little heart whenever anything shiny is put before me.'