Tirya Clearsong - from Past to Present

Part one: The Singing Zebra
***
"La la la" Tirya intoned, at last managing to sing the exact same notes as the bird she had been trying to copy. She sighed happily, then sang the set of notes again, just for the joy of having done it.
"La la la!"
"Hihihi!"
Tirya whirled around to see where the giggle had come from. Her heart sank when she saw the pretty, raven black form of her older sister standing in the grass behind her.
"Yous trying to sing with them birds again! Yous are a silly Ratonga! We don't sing!" Her sisters mocking face turned angry when she spotted the empty basket that Tirya had carefully put in the grass beside her.
"And yous didn't even get a single chewy thing to eats! I am so gonna tell mothers!" Before Tirya even had the chance to explain or plead her sister to be quiet, she had run off across the field towards their family's home.
Tirya sighed and picked up her notoriously empty basket. She hadn't meant to become distracted from looking for food, but then she had heard the bird... The bird with the glorious call she had never heard before. She had very carefully set the basket in the grass beside her, intending to only try once to copy the bird’s song. But the song had proven elusive, and one try turned to two, to seven, to thirteen and more tries. It was only when her sister interrupted her she realised she had spend the whole afternoon singing with the bird, instead of gathering food like she was meant to.
With dragging paws she walked back to the house. She couldn't even muster the energy to check her surroundings for any foodstuffs she might still pick up. When she came within sight of the house, her pace slowed even more. Suddenly the door sprang open and her two oldest brothers came running out towards her. With their glossy black coats they looked to Tirya like ravens of doom.
"Zebra! Zebra!" they shrieked, coming ever closer. "Zebra!"
They had reached her now, bounding around her while she shuffled closer to the house, the door and whatever doom lay behind it.
"Yous are in for it now, Zebra!" her one brother bawled in her ear. "Fathers is angries!" the other yelled. "Mothers it angries as well!" the first screamed, not to be done in by his brother. Suddenly they both stopped and faced her, gave her a stern look and said "and yous have done it, Zebra!"
They started bounding around her again, now pinching her ears when they saw the chance, bringing Tirya ever closer to tears.
"Stop its! Don't be so means!" she squeaked. She tried to protect her ears with her hands, but then they pulled her tail or pinched her sides.
Then their father appeared in the doorway, their big, broad shouldered father, sporting the same glossy black coat as his two sons. He appraised the scene before him for a moment, his two sons cruelly teasing their younger sister, now with tears streaming from her big black eyes.
"Boys! Leave your sister be and come inside. Tirya, hurry up."
Tirya couldn't even breathe a sigh of relief when her brothers hurried into the house after their father. Her chest constricted with fear of what she had gotten herself into again. But she daren't defy her father, so she took step after dragging step until she reached the door.
The whole family sat around the fire, her mother in the old winged armchair, her white coat gleaming redly in the firelight. Tirya's brothers and sisters sat or lay on the knotted rug in front of the fire, lean glossy white coated and black furred Ratonga youngsters. Her father was standing next to the fire, the firelight lending a ruddy glow to his black coat. Tirya stared at her own paws, still holding the empty gathering basket. The odd wavy black and white markings stood out even more in the last of the daylight that streamed in through the open door behind her.
One of her sisters coughed, a cough that sounded remarkably like the word "Zebra".
At last Tirya dared to glance at her father. He was looking at her with a concerned expression on his face, although it seemed to only thinly veil the anger that was underneath.
"Tirya. You came home after all your brothers and sisters. What did you bring home after a day's foraging?"
Tirya shuffled her feet and stared at the hem of her dress. She could feel the empty basket burning in her paws.
"Nothing." she whispered.
"Nothing." Her father repeated. "You were gone the whole afternoon and you did not bring home a single thing?"
Tirya could only nod.
"Then what did you do all afternoon, instead of gathering food?"
Tirya felt a fierce blush on her cheeks. Her throat was locked so tight she could not answer.
"Well?"
A small croak left her throat. An attempt to clear her throat then turned into a sob.
"Sing." she at last managed to say.
"Well." Tirya could hear the anger creeping into her father's voice now. "Didn't your mother and I tell you time and again that Ratonga do not sing? That you cannot let all this silliness interfere with your tasks and duties to your family?"
Tirya nodded meekly.
"Then go to the sleeping corner right now. Since you brought nothing home to eat, there will be no dinner for you. Tomorrow you will stay with your mother and do all the things she tells you to do, without even thinking about singing. Obviously we cannot trust you to do your chores alone."
Tirya shuffled to the sleeping corner without saying anything or looking at her family. She threw herself down into the blankets and cried hot silent tears while listening to her family having dinner.
***

***
"Zebra! Oi, Zebra!"
Tirya tried to ignore her brother's cries as she lugged the laundry basket over to the stream where her mother was washing. As always, her brother didn't care to be ignored, and started running circles around her, tugging her tail and pinching her ears when he got the chance, all while chanting loudly, albeit not so loud their mother could hear them.
"ZebrazebrazebrazebraZEBRA!zebrazebrabrabra!"
Trying to distract herself from her brothers chant, Tirya started counting her footsteps. To amuse herself, she made her paw come down harder every fourth step. Soon she was caught up in the rythym, hearing her brother only as a whine in the background. Before she'd gone much further, words started forming in her head, matching the beat of her paws on the ground.
If no brother was
As noisy as is mine
I would have some rest
and all would turn out fine!
Tirya giggled, and tried to think of another rhyme.
Four paws that are mine
To think I would have eight
would serve no use except
to carry yet more weight!
She was humming happily, oblivious of how her brother had ceased his running and chanting, and unaware until the last moment of the disapproving look her mother was giving her.
"More singing, Tirya?
Tirya stopped dead in her tracks. Her happy mood disappeared instantly, and she almost dropped the basket with the laundry from her paws.
"Do you ever even listen to us, girl? I wonder where that stubborn streak in you came from. Why can't you be more like your brothers and sisters, instead of singing all the time! Now you go wash those clothes while I fetch some more soap."
Her mother stalked off angrily, leaving Tirya trembling on the bank of the stream. Suddenly her brother's head popped out of one of the bushes.
"Singing again, Zebra?" he snickered to himself. "Singing Zebra! Haha!"`
One of her sisters appeared beside him. "Singing Zebra? Hihihi! Zebra! Singing Zebra!"
Tirya could do little but bite back her tears and attempt to do the laundry as her mother had ordered her.
***

Part two: The Turning Point
***
"Remember, it is only because I cannot leave you alone that I'm taking you!" Tirya's mother warned her.
Tirya was too busy to listen, there was too much to see!
The towers of the Crossroads had risen above the dusty farmlands surrounding it long before she had been able to see the fence or the moat surrounding it. She could only gape as they passed the guards at the entrance to the village, fierce men wearing metal plates for clothing. But then her sharp ears caught something... a faint trill of sound.... Something unlike anything she had heard before. She glanced at her mother, but she seemed preoccupied with the list of things they had come to buy.
"Mothers, can I look around?"
"Yes yes, just don't be a nuisance like you usually are."
Tirya's heart gave a little jump. Her mother was definately thinking of other things, or she would never have been allowed to wander. Before her mother could have second thoughts, Tirya slipped away from her side and into the crowd, following that sound she heard.
At the centre of the Crossroads stood a tall and slender Kerra. She wore a close-fitting outfit made completely of small metal rings, as unlike anything Tirya had ever seen as the metal plates the guards had been wearing. But most amazing was what the Kerra was holding in her hands. An odd looking wooden instrument, with some sort of threads strung from the slim neck of the instrument to halfway the fat belly. The Kerra moved her fingers over the threads, and the most wonderful sounds Tirya had ever heard streamed forth. She stared open mouthed at the Kerra while listening to the singing of the weird wooden instrument.
She started violently and squeaked loudly when a hand was suddenly laid on her shoulder. A rumbling laugh was the answer, and Tirya looked up shyly into the friendly eyes of the biggest man she ever saw, a massive Barbarian. He opened his mouth and another steam of rumbles came out, while his eyes never stopped smiling. Tirya looked helplessly at the man, aware he had said something to her, but unable to understand or explain she didn't understand him.
"He says you'll catch the flies if you don't close your mouth."
Tirya whirled around and looked at the person that had just spoken, a light furred Ratonga with an eye-patch. He was grinning at her. Behind her, the Barbarian rumbled something again.
"He wonders at your look, have you never seen a Troubadour before?" the Ratonga said.
Tirya glanced at the Barbarian before casting a longing look on the Kerra, who was still making the wooden instrument sing it's sweet song.
"A... a troubadours? Noes... I... We don't come heres often."
The Ratonga's grin softened into a smile.
"Ah, you'll enjoy your first Troubadour performance then. This Kerra is rather talented with a lute and has a very nice singing voice."
The Barbarian rumbled something, and the Ratonga nodded.
"He says maybe we can get her to sing the Race-song, it's always good fun and you'll get the chance to sing along a little yourself!"
Tirya blushed. "Buts, Ratongas don't sing... Do theys?" her voice trailed away as the Ratonga laughed heartily.
"Well some shouldn't, quite right!"
The Kerra had just finished her song, and the Ratonga called out to her.
"Troub, could you sing the Race-song for this first-timer here?"
Enthusiastic shouts rose up from the crowd and the Kerra smiled.
"I bet you just want to show off the texts you made!" She turned her gaze on Tirya, and smiled at her. Tirya could feel warmth rising to her cheeks again.
"But we can start with the Ratonga lines, in honour of the little lady."

Other people in the crowd had also turned and were watching Tirya with smiles on their faces. Some waved her to the front, and the grinning Ratonga gave her a little push and walked her over to the Troubadour. The Kerra ran her fingers over the strings on the lute and gave Tirya another smile.
"It's an easy song, just listen carefully!" She raised her voice and addressed the crowd again, while coaxing a lively tuned from the lute.
"Alright, you know the drill. I sing the first couplet, you repeat it, and then someone else can sing a couplet and we repeat that. Everyone ready?" The crowd cheered, and the Kerra raised her voice in song.
"Ratonga, Ratonga, quick and nimble and keen,
When they wish to hide then, none of em can be seen!"
Laughs came from the crowd, before they, more enthousiastic then pretty, repeated the couplet.
The Kerra grinned and looked at the Ratonga with the eyepatch next to Tirya.
"I believe you have one for the Ratonga, master?"
The Ratonga nodded, and raised his voice in a fair tenor
"Ratonga, Ratonga, white and black and brown,
When living in a sewer, they splat if they fall down!"
A roar of laughter came from the crowd, punctuated by the deep rumbling laugh of the Barbarian. Tirya couldn't help but grin as she, too, raised her voice to repeat the lines. The Kerra troubadour heard her start to sing, and gave her an appreciative nod and smile, while she kept playing the tune on the lute.
Tirya felt her heart lift in her chest. She remembered what the Ratonga with the eye-patch had said, remembered his nice tenor voice singing the line in the song and listened to him sing now, standing a few steps from her. The Kerra smiled and nodded at her when she sang. Singing was GOOD, she was sure of it. Somehow, her parents must be wrong about it.
Her mind working feverishly, she began to make her own couplet, even while carefully listening to the new couplets about Ratonga and other races and repeating them back with the rest of the crowd. When there was a small lull again between the couplets, she shyly nudged the Kerra.
"I haves one as well." she whispered when the Kerra looked at her. The Kerra beamed down at her.
"Very nice girl! One second." She raised her voice to the crowd again.
"Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please! The girl in whose honour we started the Race-Song has made a couplet as well."
The crowd quieted and looked at her expectantly. Tirya blushed furiously, but when the Kerra gave her an encouraging nod, she raised her voice to fill the expectant hush.
"Ratonga, Ratonga, my mother says don't sings,
But she must not know then, the joy that singing brings!"

The crowd cheered, they all smiled and waved their hands appreciatively. Tirya saw the Ratonga wink at her, saw the Kerra's happy smile, heard the Barbarian's rumbly voice join the rest of the crowd in the repeating of her lines.
Then, suddenly, it all disappeared into a cloud of blackness as a heavy paw hit her on the back of her head, knocking her out.
***

Part three: The Plan
***
Sometimes, it seemed Tirya could hardly remember what it felt like to be happy. The one glorious moment of happiness while singing at the Crossroads had poofed away into blackness when her father's heavy paw had hit her on the head so hard she had blacked out. She could remember nothing of the journey home, and only regained consciousness in the middle of the black night that had followed.
No freedom had been allowed to her again. After the trashing her father had given her the next day, which had left her bruised and sore for days, her parents kept her in their house, away from the sun and anyone but the family, and kept her paws busy with all the nasty, tedious and boring chores they could think off. She was roused before any of her siblings, was barely given time to eat, and was kept up long into the night with all the tasks her parents could think off. The afternoon at the Crossroads seemed as hazy and unreal in her fog of tiredness that Tirya sometimes wondered if had all been a dream. At such moments she stared at her paws, now stained, blistered and cracked from the work and remembered there was a reason they looked like that. She remembered the singing voices in the Crossroads, the wonderful sound of the lute, the smiles of the Kerra troubadour and the Ratonga with the eye patch, the rumbly laugh of the Barbarian. Then, flinching, she remembered how her head had hurt for days after they had come back home. It all came down to a few points, which she kept turning around in her head. Her father had hit her, hard, because she was singing. Her parents were now punishing her, because she had been singing. Other people had liked her singing. Other people had encouraged her to sing.
Things didn't add up. In her lone weariness, Tirya was confused.

Then one evening, while Tirya was completing the last chores her parents had set for her that day, she overheard her parents, quietly conversing on the bench in front of the house.

"Did you hears any news when you were in the village?" Tirya's mother's voice was softer and kinder that Tirya had heard it in a long time.

"Yes" Her father sighed and paused.

"That Kerra singer was in the village, asking after 'a little zebra-striped Ratonga girl with a beautiful voice'" He sniffed scornfully.

"But the lads set her right about how we think about singing." His voice became louder, and Tirya could hear him easily.

'There are no foolish singing Ratonga in these parts! And if there were, we'd set them right!"

Tirya's confusion flared into resentment. The Kerra Troubadour from the Crossroads had been in their village, she had come looking for her, she must have been, for there were no other zebra-striped Ratonga anywhere near. For her! A small Ratonga no-one, and the Kerra had told everyone she had a beautiful voice. And then her father and his friends had chased her off.

Without finishing her chore, she got up and sneaked to the bedroom. She threw herself down on the blanket, not bothering to avoid her sleeping siblings' limbs. Her mind was racing, and the seed of a plan was hatching in her brain. She had to be careful, sneakies. Her parents could not find out she had heard them talk. No-one should find out what she planned to do.

Because what she had to do had finally become clear to her.

She had to escape.

***

Part four: The Escape
***
Careful planning had gone into Tirya's plan. For weeks, nothing on the outside showed she had heard her parents' conversation. On the inside however, she was working overtime. Shaky at the idea she had to leave her home and everything she knew, but also convinced she had to get away, Tirya started paying very careful attention to the whereabouts of her family. At practically every time of the day, she learned to know where all of them were. During her chores, she began to sneak away little bits and pieces that might be useful to her when she decided to go. It had been hard to find a place to hide all her little treasures. All the spots she had used in the past to hide trinkets from her siblings were in places she wasn’t allowed to go anymore. Then one day she had found a small hole in the wall of the shed where the buckets and cleaning things were kept. Since her siblings had been free of cleaning duty ever since Tirya had been forced to do most of the work around the house, none of them would ever find the hiding place.

In the little hiding place, Tirya had hidden several pieces of well-packed food she knew would keep. When the family’s rare diamond glass bowl had shattered on the ground one evening, butted off the table by a negligent brother, Tirya had managed to sneak away one of the sharp splinters. It was sitting in the little hole now, carefully wrapped in a piece of thick leather. She had also managed to find an old spoon in the rubbish heap one day, which she was sure could be sanded to cleanliness again. A sharp pointed stick she had found one day while working on the laundry was also in the hole, a useful tool when it would come to digging for roots.

It was shortly after finding her greatest treasure yet, a slightly leaky waterbag, that Tirya saw her opportunity arise. One evening, when her parents were again sitting in front of the house, and she was again finishing up her last chores, Tirya overheard her father telling her mother he would take her two eldest brothers with him to the Crossroads, to sell some things and buy others. He expected to be gone two days, leaving on the morrow and returning with the dusk of the day after. Tirya did not hear her mother reply, but could imagine her nodding. She hurriedly finished her chore and snuck into bed, her heart beating fast. Her father and eldest brothers were the ones most likely to chase her, when she ran away. With them gone for two days, she would be able to escape almost at her leisure! Tirya hardly slept the rest of that night, tense with the realisation her time had finally come.

Dawn had hardly broken when Tirya’s father awoke her and her two eldest brothers. The rest of the siblings were left sleeping. Her father set Tirya to packing supplies and preparing breakfast, while the boys and he washed and got dressed. When Tirya had set the breakfast out and was stuffing the sales goods into the bags, her father shot a look at her.

“Why don’t you let me pack the bags, Tirya, and start your chores early todays? You will have the evening off if you do.”

Tirya looked at him, head tilted. Her father smiled at her, not unkindly. He did love his daughter, however wayward and unreasonable she was. He didn’t enjoy loading her with chores, but he was convinced in the end she would see the folly of her singing ways.

“Go on, you can start with the floors today. And if you’re good, I may bring you a present from the Crossroads.”

Tirya dropped the bags and scurried outside to the shed with the cleaning materials. As she reached for the broom, she realised this would be a good a time as any, providing she could make a little more use of the good mood her father was in. She carefully got her treasures from the hole in the wall and carefully hid them in her clothing, making sure they couldn’t be seen. Then she fetched the broom and slowly walked back inside. She schooled her face to a look of shy servitude.

“Fathers?”

“Hmm?”

“Could I walk with yous a little way when you go? Mothers never lets me go anywheres anymore and I would so much like to take a little walk with yous.” Nervously, she added, “I’ll work extra hards when I get back.”

Tirya’s father turned on his chair to look at his little zebra-striped daughter. She looked thin and meek in the light of the early dawn that came in through the open door. Maybe they had been working her too hard of late. She was looking down at her bare paws now, twiddling the broom she held in her paws. He nodded slowly.

“Very well Tirya. Yous can walk with us till the bridge. But minds I won’t hear your mother about you forgetting your chores!”

Tirya could hardly contain her joy as she nodded, meekly.

Soon Tirya’s father and her brothers shouldered their packs, stuffed provisions in their pockets and got ready to leave. At a gesture of her father, Tirya put the broom in a corner, and followed him outside. Her brothers followed behind them.

They walked quietly, no one feeling the need to say anything. Tirya was happy to be outside without carrying some load or heading to the river to do the laundry for once, even though she was almost thrumming with nerves over her upcoming escape. She did her best to walk quietly beside her father, but every once in a while something startled her and she skipped nervously. Her father looked down on her whenever that happened, frowning at first, but then with a tolerant smile. He thought his daughter was so excited to be out without a chore she could not contain her happiness. When they had walked about two miles along the path that ran from their house, they came to the bridge over the river. Tirya’s father halted, gesturing the two boys ahead. He looked at Tirya then, laying his paw under her chin to raise her head and look into her eyes.

“Now go straight home, you hear me?”

Tirya nodded, finding it hard to look her father in the eyes. He smiled at her, thinking her uncomfortable with him after how harshly she’d been treated the last time. He laid his hands on the sides of her head, and bend down to kiss her forehead.

“I’ll see yous in two days then. Be goods.”

Tirya nodded again.

“Bye fathers.”

Tirya stood on the bridge watching her father and brothers walk away, and even saw her father turn around once and raise his paw in farewell. She waved back and stood watching until they had disappeared around a far corner. Then she turned and hurried back down the road. She didn’t go back home thought. About halfway to the house, she carefully started stepping into older footprints. When the path came into more bushy country, she jumped off the sandy path into the grassy verge. A few more careful jumps got her into the undergrowth without leaving any obvious trail. She sighed deeply and started making her way away from everything she knew, and toward where she hoped was Freeport, the city she had heard many good stories about.

***

Part five: The Fortunate Meeting
***

It was two days since Tirya had made her escape, and by now she had to admit she was hopelessly lost. She had fully figured, on account of the stories of Freeport she had heard in the village, that she would have reached the city by now. However, there was only empty plain all around her, and she had no clue where to go. Dejectedly, she huffed and sat down on a humpy bit of sand.

The first day she had moved along easily, munching bits of food and drinking from pools and little steams she came across. This second day however, her food had already run low and her slightly leaky waterbag had turned out leakier then she had thought. Near midday she had left most of the shrubbery behind and walked into this sandy plain, with only the occasional fringe of grass or twisted stump of shrub. It was mostly sand, whichever way she looked, just humpier in some places then others. However, while gazing into the distance like that, it suddenly seemed to Tirya one of the not-so-far-off humps of sand was moving. Reluctant to get moving again, but eager to at least have something to move to, Tirya got up from her hump of sand and started walking in the direction of the moving hump in the distance.

Getting ever closer, Tirya saw the movement she thought she had noticed was quite more than that: it looked like a full-blown fight between some sort of huge spirit creature, and a leather-clad Kerra, who barely reached to the monsters waist. Tirya hid behind a conveniently placed length of smooth rock, awaiting the outcome of the battle. The Kerra, however small she looked next to the immense spirit monster, seemed to be on the winning hand. As Tirya watched, the Kerra waved her hands and lightning came down out of nowhere, striking the monster. With a terrible cry, it fell to the ground, it’s great fiery eyes slowly extinguishing. The Kerra made another hand movement, and Tirya thought she could smell pine needles, very faintly. Then the Kerra turned, looking straight at Tirya over the stone she was hiding behind.

‘Hullo young Ratonga. Well met! Isn’t it a lovely day?’

For a moment Tirya was dumbstruck. Uncertain, the only thing that would come out of her mouth was a tentative “Squeak?” Then, because she was still not sure what to say, she squeaked again. The Kerra smiled at her, very kindly, Tirya thought.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Perhaps I should introduce myself. I am Ishtar Sparklepaw.’

She took two steps closer and extended her hand over the smooth rock, obviously meaning for Tirya to shake it. For a long moment, Tirya stared at the hand. No one had even before offered her a hand to shake. Just as it seemed the Kerra – Ishtar, she reminded herself, was getting uncomfortable holding out her hand to nothing, Tirya reached up and shook the offered hand. Ishtar’s smile grew.

‘And what is your name?’ she asked

‘Tirya.’ Tirya fell silent for a moment. ‘I’s only haves one name.’

Ishtar laughed. ‘That’s okay, a lot of people have only one name. Some people have a family name to go with it though, or have earned themselves a rather descriptive name by things they do or how they look.’ She patted a small bag hanging from her belt. ‘That’s why they call me Sparklepaw. I love to collect small pretty oddities. I found shinies all over Norrath!’

Tirya stared at Ishtar, somewhat daunted, her mouth making a small “O”. Ishtar smiled at her again.

‘So what brings you to the Forgotten, Tirya?’

‘The forgotten?’

Ishtar nodded gravely and gestured to the rock between them on the ground. Now that she gave it a better look, Tirya saw it was not quite a rock, but a statue, lying on its back, fashioned like a great hooded knight. The knight would have been leaning on a sword if he had not been lying down.

‘It’s a cavalier statue. They’re reputed to be made after the Knights of Marr. There are several around Norrath, but this one is all alone out here.’

Running her hand along the fallen knight’s hood, Tirya felt a deep sadness for the lonesome forgotten knight.

‘That is so sads. I’s didn’t know he was heres. I’m on the ways to Freeport.’

Ishtar laughed again, this time oddly humourless.

‘You’re quite a ways off then, Tirya. Freeport is a day or four walk from here.’

‘Four days?’ Tirya asked dejectedly. She remembered very keenly how hopeless, tired, hungry, thirsty and footsore she had felt just before she had felt just before she found Ishtar. To think that she had to walk four more days slowly made tears well up in her eyes. She sniffed loudly.

‘How cans it be four more days? I heards it was only two days walking from the village.’ It was too much, and the tears started trickling down her face.

‘Och Tirya, honey, don’t cry.’ Ishtar kneeled next to Tirya in the sand, producing a clean rag from somewhere and wiping the tears from her face. ‘You must have somehow gone the wrong way.’

‘But I can’ts go all the ways back.’ Tirya blubbered. ‘It is too fars!’

Ishtar patted her head reassuringly. ‘Well I can help you there. I need to find another one of these statues and I have reason to believe they are quite close to Freeport. You may have to do half a day of walking yourself, but most of the way you can ride with me.’
‘R-ride?’ Tirya said.
Ishtar just smiled mysteriously. From one of her pockets she drew a thin stick with some holes in it, put it to her lips and blew. A very clear and carrying tone came from the stick. Tirya’s eyes filled with delight as she listened to the tone drifting away. She we so preoccupied with following the tone that she didn’t hear the clopping of hooves on sand until the sound was right behind her. She started badly as she felt a warm breath down her neck. Ishtar chuckled at her, but in a way that didn’t make her feel bad.
‘He always comes up from behind. For some reason he likes to surprise.’
Tirya turned, slowly, to the largest creature she had seen so far – apart from the spirit creature she had seen Ishtar battle before. She backed away slowly from the huge face, hidden behind a plate of armour but for the big brown enquiring eyes. Steaming nostrils blew warm breath at her.
‘What is thats!’
Ishtar laughed out loud at her dismay.
‘Oh-ho-hahaha! Look at yourself! Haven’t you ever seen a horse before?’
Tirya looked the creature carefully over. Now that Ishtar had said horse, she did see some similarities to the ones she had seen, albeit far-off, in the Crossroads. She had never imagined they would be this big though!
‘I-I’s thoughts they would be smallers.’ She stammered.
Ishtar seemed to be wiping tears of merriment from her eyes. She sniggered to herself before turning more serious again.
‘Oh, many are smaller indeed. Some though are even bigger than him.’ She gestured briefly at the horse. Cryptically she added, ‘He is my size though, and I’m not exactly small myself. Well now, to business.’
Ishtar started rummaging about the few bags attached to the saddle. Some things from her various pockets she put in the bags before pulling out a small flask and a heel of bread. She gave both to Tirya, before saying “hold on!” which was all the warning Tirya got before Ishtar got a firm grip on her sides and lifted the young Ratonga into the saddle. Then she put one foot in the stirrup and smoothly seated herself behind Tirya in the saddle. Without any aid that Tirya could hear or feel, the horse started walking, an easy, rolling movement, pitching her very slightly from one side to the other. It was quite comfortable.
‘Now this is nice!’ she squeaked. Sitting as close to Ishtar as she was, she could not only hear the Kerra laugh but also feel it rumbling against her back.
‘Very true, Tirya, but we won’t make it to Freeport anytime soon if we don’t go a bit faster. Hold on tight to that food I gave you.’ She circled one arm around Tirya’s waist, holding her loosely but secure against herself. ‘When you get used to the rhythm, you can have a snack.’
With a sudden explosive movement that threw Tirya back against Ishtar’s leather-clad body, the horse started running. Wind rushed around Tirya’s ears and made her eyes water. The horse’s strides threw her from one side to the other and she clutched tightly at Ishtar’s arm circling her waist. Before long, however, she actually began to feel a rhythm in the horse’s paces, a sort of rocking back-and-forth motion. She began to relax against Ishtar, and found that actually made it even easier to keep her seat. Ishtar seemed to notice her relaxing, because it wasn’t long before Tirya heard her voice through the wind whistling in her ears.
‘All comfy now? Alright, on we go then.’
And with Ishtar’s strong arm around her, on top of the swiftly galloping horse, Tirya was finally underway to Freeport.

Part six: An Eventful Journey *** That day, Tirya saw more of the lands she grew up in than in all her life before then, even when counting the two days she had walked from her village. The Commonlands Savannas were big, much bigger than she had ever imagined, and filled with all sorts of giant scary creatures. At one point, near the end of their first day together, Ishtar had brought the horse to a standstill, a small distance from a crumbling wall. With the wall, among what looked like little houses but what Ishtar called “tombs”, walked skeletons and cadavers, with aimless, shuffling gait. “This is Enlightenment Cemetery.” She had said. “Not so much for how enlightened you can get by being here, but because it was founded by the people who lived here in the Age of Enlightenment.” Perhaps feeling Tirya’s confusion, she added, “That’s a very long time ago, Tirya, an Age past.” She was quiet for a moment, her gaze following one of the cadavers shambling from one tomb to another. “Most of the people buried here were the victim of a great plague, but that would hardly explain why they won’t be at peace. There are rumours that the plague was caused by the emergence of Innoruuk disciples within Freeport.” Tirya didn’t understand, not the part about the Age past, nor the part about that Innoruuk. Not wanting to seem ignorant, however, she squeaked, “Buts it doesn’t matters, right, because that’s all so long agoes?” “The past is always important, Tirya, whether it’s two days ago, two years or two hundred years. Everything we are, we are because of the past. Never forget that.” As Ishtar turned the horse away from the cemetery, Tirya spotted a strange glow in the distance. “Looks! What is thats?” “That is the place we will spend the night.” Ishtar urged the horse into a gallop again, and for a moment Tirya was too busy getting back into the rhythm to hear what Ishtar was saying. “…light you see comes from the spires, the magical gate to the Overrealm, floating islands in the sky, ruled by dragons. Maybe you’ll get to go there when you are older. It’s quite a dangerous place.” Tirya made an appropriate “Oh” sound, that rapidly changed into a sound of proper wonder as she saw the blue glow intensify, spiral upward and then dim again. “It’s very very pretties.” “That it is indeed. We’ll sleep near the spires tonight, and move on tomorrow to the other statues.” The night saw them camped a stonethrow’s distance from the spire, and in the combined blue glow from the spire and the red glow from the campfire, Tirya told Ishtar about her family, her wish to sing and even her ill-fated trip to the Crossroads. And Ishtar listened, attentively, displaying an interest in the little Ratonga that Tirya had never felt before. When at last Tirya finished her story, her voice having grown ever softer with still-raw regret and pain, Ishtar smiled at her again, softly, mindful of Tirya’s feelings. “It must have been a very hard choice, poor little Ratonga.” Ishtar reached out and stroked Tirya’s head, reacting almost without conscious thought to the forlorn air of the Ratonga girl. And Tirya, not having felt the loving hand of her father or mother for so long, closed her eyes and leaned into Ishtar’s hand. Blissfully, she sighed. “Lay back now, and sleep. Tonight, you can sleep away your past, and tomorrow, we will begin the journey towards your dreams.”

Tirya woke up the following morning in the gray pre-dawn light. Ishtar, she saw, was still asleep beside her. Between them, on the hard-baked savannah ground, sat two items that had not been there when Tirya went to sleep. One she recognized as a lute, a fat-bellied string instrument like the one the Kerra in the Crossroads had been playing. The other looked like a medium-sized wooden pot, with a piece of leather stretched over the top. Cautiously, Tirya reached out and plucked one of the strings on the lute. A clear tone rose from the instrument, slightly louder than she had intended. More careful, she plucked another string, producing another tone. Drawn in, she plucked more strings, creating a sort of tune as she went. Absorbed by what she was doing, she started when Ishtar suddenly rose, stretched luxuriously and remarked,

“Did I tune that alright then?”
Tirya smiled widely.
“It’s perfects!”
Ishtar chuckled. “Probably not quite, but it will get you started anyway.” She pointed to the leather-topped pot. “I also made you a drum.” Seeing Tirya’s uncomprehending look, she pulled the pot over and drummed her fingers on the leather, making deep booming noises. Tirya’s mouth made a little “O” of pleasure.

“And… They is both for me’s?” Tirya couldn’t quite believe it just yet.
“Yes.” Ishtar was already stuffing things in bags, and as Tirya watched she got out the little whistle and called the horse. “If you want to become a bard, you’ll need some half-decent instruments. These you can use until you need something better.” She smiled at Tirya as she secured the bags to the saddle. “Now hurry over here, I’ll carry the lute on my back, you hold on to the drum so you can practice until you drive me nuts while we ride.”
***
Near midday, they could see the towers and outer buildings of the Crossroads. Again, Ishtar stopped the horse and for a while they stood, watching the bustling around the village.

“We won’t go theres, will we’s?” Tirya asked.
“No. They don’t like me much, and there is just a slim chance you might run into your family there. It’s better we skirt it and move on. The statues I am looking for should not be very much further.”
They rode around the Crossroads in a wide circle, always keeping the towers in view. When they reached the road that ran to the north, away from the Crossroads and into a sparse wood, Ishtar turned the horse onto the road. An easy gallop carried them further north.
Around mid-afternoon, Ishtar slowed the horse to a walk. They still rode in the sparse forest, but not too far ahead Tirya could now see some large, looming shapes. Those were probably the statues they were looking for. A quick look at Ishtar confirmed her suspicion. The Kerra was staring hard at the shapes, somewhat tenser than she had been before. She smiled again as she looked down on Tirya.
“Right, Tirya, this is where we part ways.” She dismounted, then helped Tirya down. She handed the Ratonga the lute, which she had, true to her word, carried on her back.
“I need to confront another spirit at those statues, and I want you safely on your way when I do.” She pointed north, along the road.
“Go north, following this road. By evening, you should reach the sea. Make camp near the griffon tower that stands on the cliff, and in the morning, walk east along the cliffs, keeping the sea on your left hand. By midday, you should reach a path that goes down to the water. When you get there, use the bell on the docks to call a ferry that will take you into Freeport. Go to South Freeport, and look for the people of the Seafury Buccaneers – the scout guild. They will help you become a bard.”
She leaned down and hugged Tirya tightly.
“Good luck girl. I know you can do it.”
Tirya returned the hug gladly, her throat thick with emotion. She squeaked softly to clear it.
“Thank yous so much, Ishtars.” She wiped a paw across her eyes. “Will I ever see you agains?”
Ishtar smiled. “I will find a way to find out how you are doing, and yes, we will probably meet again some day. Now go.”
Gently, she turned Tirya around and gave her a little push. Tirya started walking, looking back every few paces. Every time, Ishtar was standing just the same, looking at her, raising her arm in a farewell salute. While her fingers started drumming a rhythm on the drum she carried under her arm, with the image of the kind Kerra looking over her, Tirya walked north, closer to her dream of being a bard than ever before.