A Man Who Does Not Know Music (2/2)

The man cautiously handed me my instrument, which I took. And I only plucked a single corroded string before he snatched my hand to inspect my fingertips, convinced from there was where the music came. I let him scrutinize. My fingers. Knuckles. The rivers in my palms. He released me, and I resumed playing.

He concentrated thoroughly on the coming of my music, but eventually, as music had the power to do, it calmed him. His face softened like one of an enamored child. Music often did that. Made those who were old recall their youth, although this man was young. Perhaps the same year as me. Maybe a year younger. 

Although the ferocity in his eyes had left, his gaze was indeed still foxlike, the color loyal to every twitch of my fingers, refusing to miss a single action. I was captivated by his captivation, so I began to sing to surprise him some more.

He startled and looked at my mouth, holding his attention there. Then, he pressed his fingers to my lips. My song stopped. Briefly, I wondered if he was pretending not to recognize the tune I hummed, or if the world had truly been so cruel as to withhold the delight of music from him. Surely, he'd had parents who sang to him before bed or a community that had danced with him to the pounding of drums and lively hearts.

"What is that called?" he asked me, and he lowered his hand.

I answered, "Singing. Does it interest you?"

He nodded, eyes still hooked on my mouth, waiting for the next note I might sing for him. But I waited.

"I am human," I reminded him. "These are songs humans sing."

"I cannot sing."

Perhaps he was not human. At least, he was not ordinary with his abilities, but I did not say what I thought for fear it might anger him. Instead, I sang into my hand, caught the melody in my fist, and pressed my palm to his mouth.

"I just gifted you my song. If you try, you can sing like I do."

A quiet smile, curious and youthful stretched onto his blushed lips. "I'm sure that is not how it works."

I considered him. "You are on this beach alone?"

"There are monsters here, too."

I recalled the beast from earlier. The mass of it and its distorted anguish that had drowned out the music in my head. It had also been beautiful, but discomfort boiled low in my stomach that there might be other monsters of that size roaming this very forest we sat in.

"You seem surprised," the man observed.

I nodded. Only once. "Yes. I have never seen such a beast before today. My island had lions and poisonous snakes, but nothing more terrifying than those."

"You will encounter beasts anywhere else you go," he stated quietly. "On this island, at least, most will not attack you unless provoked."

"Is that what you do? Provoke them?" The beast had been agitated earlier.

"I kill those that are aggressive or too curious. Keep them away from the city."

There was a city beyond this forest, yet I had woken on the coast with him.

"You are here alone," this time I stated.

"No."

"No?"

"I have someone keeping me company now," he said, and it was lonely and longing despite his neutral expression.

But a man as formidable as himself surely must be surrounded by admirers. I had watched him pull a tree from the earth like he was merely plucking a flower from a field. His strength fascinated me to distraction, and I welcomed this slight remedy to my grief.

"What is your name, friend?"

"Aestos," he murmured, sounding unfamiliar with his own name on his tongue.

"I am Nevian." A prince. But that no longer mattered, I feared. "You have the power of a—"

"I am human," Aestos interrupted. "Simply a man."

I nodded, although curious. It seemed he took pride in the ordinary title of man and did not want for more. But he was indeed more than any simple man. "You have abilities men can only long for."

"Do they interest you?" he asked, his eyes guarded.

"I do not want them for myself, no, but to see you wield yourself so powerfully was as beautiful as it was terrifying. I could not look away."

Aestos considered me with stiff brows. Perplexed. "I can only be one or the other. Terrifying or beautiful. They cannot both exist at once."

"And yet here you are."

The smile he gave me was curious. He did not believe my words. "You are not from here."

Grief returned like an illness that coiled around my organs and squeezed until there was no life left. "Where I come from no longer exists."

Aestos stared, and I clarified. "My island sunk." Even dehydrated, a tear managed to form and fall, and Aestos watched it strangely. Maybe I wished he would wipe it away and comfort a man who no longer had anyone else to turn to.

"Islands do not sink suddenly. The ocean only rises," he said thoughtfully. "Which island are you from?"

"The island of Salyras. I am the prince of that nation." Was, I reminded myself.

His expression went blank, and I could tell it was carefully constructed from how his lips fought to keep from frowning.

"You have nowhere else to go?"

"I suppose not anymore."

Aestos contemplated a moment. "Tomorrow, I will take you to the city and have you registered as a new citizen by the king himself. Only, you cannot mention that you are a person of Salyras, and you can never play your music. It will not be good if they learn of your ability."

I huffed. "Then I would rather rot here. I have no desire to restrain myself only to live amongst strangers." I did not want to live, and it would be more of a Hell to be forced to survive without music.

"It would not be amongst strangers if you brought people along," Aestos offered, like the idea was an obvious one.

Anger approached me suddenly, my eyes narrowing. "Look around. Have I brought anyone with me?"

He flinched at my tone like a small child might, and I knew I had made a mistake throwing my anguish on him. He was kind to me, and I wanted to honor it.

Aestos' voice was softer when he spoke again. "Loan me your music, and I will rescue the people you've lost."

"If they are dead?"

He looked at the ocean. It made contented noises as it sifted through and buried the sand. "I do not think they are."

He could not know that. To be able to predict such was truly the ability of a God. Which he was not.

"Even you cannot bring back what was lost."

Aestos looked at me. "If you take a risk and trust me, I'll help you locate their bodies at least. But only if you first agree to loan your music to me. There is something I must obtain from a city far from here, and I fear my strength may be too disastrous."

"How do you mean?"

He lowered his eyes, something weighing on him. "The journey is long and requires venture into dangerous territories. I do not wish to destroy people or the environment that might be in the way, but it will happen naturally with my power. With your music, I believe disaster can be avoided. You can persuade monsters and men to avoid us."

I wondered if it was worth the trouble when even if Aestos helped me collect the deceased bodies of my people, they would remain that way. But was this not the opportunity I had always yearned for? To be heroic with my music and prove what heights I could reach with this passion?

I had wanted to be someone Nelera would be proud of.

I considered Aestos. He'd kept his eyes on me during my contemplation.

"You would trust a stranger to help you? To watch your back?" I wondered.

A thoughtful nod. "You have already watched my back once."

"My sister," I voiced. "Let us find her body, at least. It will be pointless to look for the rest."

I could not decipher the look that became of him. He nodded. "Tomorrow, I will request a ship from the king. It will take time for him to put together provisions and men, so we'll set off in a few days."

Aestos watched me for more to say, but exhaustion and hunger finally overcame me. When my stomach cried out, he glanced at it. He hopped to his feet like a cat would, startling me, and ran into the ocean.

He returned minutes later smelling of salt and sea foliage, carrying a fish the length of my arm.

I went to bed full that night, enveloped in the brightness of warm flames, but the space in my chest, where my heart should have been, remained hollow and dark.