The Bards Rebellion by Alistaire D'Ischai

By: Alistaire Posted on: April 15, 2005

She was quiet, the girl with the long black hair. She was beautiful, even with the shadows underneath her light green eyes. She was strong, even with skin so transparent you could see the blue veins underneath. She was mischievousness, with the playful tilt to her lips, and sparkle in her eyes. She was rebellious, with a hidden fire that lurked deep within. She was grace, it flowed from every silken curve. Most of all, though, she was music, from the sound of her voice, the tune of her laugh, and the way honeyed words poured from her cherry-red lips.

So perhaps it was fate that she was meant to be first a Bard, and then the persuasive leader among us all. I, a peer among Cyrene, one whose life was politics, was about to fall. To fall from my path, to fall from prestige, and all for the love of two things. Freedom to say what I wanted, and for the love of her. Yes, call me foolish. I won't deny it. It is foolish, but then again, love is never really wise.

Perhaps that explains why I'm here now. Standing among the milling Bards, and those who supported the cause, overshadowed by these looming statues of muses. Watching her, with a guarded look, hand on my blade, for should any try to take her down, I will kill them without thinking twice about it. For so much of my life it was Cyrene, then family, then guild. Freedom was never an issue. Now its Freedom, her… No. No, that's not right. I have to be truthful. Its her, then its Freedom. Anyways, its time now, the tension has been building, and she's rising up to speak. So beautiful, my lady, that I would follow you to death…

She lifted her head from where she'd been resting her cheek against the smooth wood of her instrument, and gave a soft sigh, running her hands lightly across the strings. Musical notes spilled forth in a pleasing cacophony of sound, and then she was on her feet in a graceful movement. "We are displeased…"

At her words, the crowd fell silent, all eyes having turned to her at the sound of the strings. Their breath caught. They didn't know why they followed her, for so many were technically of higher rank, but they did. There was something about the slim young girl that inspired trust. Maybe it was the pain that showed in her eyes, hinting at a haunting history. Nothing was for certain, different people saw different things that earned their trust when they looked at her, talked to her.

"We are displeased." She said again, and reach long fingered alabaster-coloured hands up to tuck an errant lock of hair behind one delicate ear. "For too long, we have been ignored. Our problems overlooked by the leaders of the city that our guildhall unfortunately resides in, our requests to be able to choose another place to make our home denied." Her voice did not thunder, it did not need to. The passion she kept hidden came pouring out even in her quiet tones that carried throughout the air. "We are looked down upon. Treated as if we are supposed to put up with our problems, and still produce beautiful music to lift the spirit."

Her fingers wandered to her harp, and she returned naturally to her seat, fingers drifting over the notes. "This we cannot do." She plucked a few almost discordant, jangling notes. "Depression, rage, unease…" The notes she played now were somber, painting a heaviness on the soul like rain-clouds that have held their bounty far too long. "These play havoc with our minds, taint the mind, and close it off, when it should always be held open. How can we talk of love…" Light notes that brought to mind sunshine and flowers, and sweet innocent kisses sang through the air, only to quickly become tainted with darker, more discordant music. "…when we are not happy? When we cannot be happy when we are as prisoners in this supposed Heart of the Vashnars?"

Cries of agreement rose up, then, and the sibilant ring of metal being drawn from scabbards assaulted my ears, as rapiers were drawn, then pointed at the sky. However, she was not done, and brought them back to silence with her next words.

"But, we are a small force, and to do this…to openly rebel, with most probably bring us each death. Each, ten times over." Jewel-like eyes met with first one person's gaze, and then the other, impressing upon them the seriousness of what they were wanting to do. "Are you ready for that, my fellow Bards, our friends? Are you ready to risk death? To risk hatred? To possibly be punished by the Divine for going against what they seem to want us to do?"

The notes she now played were quiet, quivering sounds that showed anticipation for the answer, for something to be decided, one way or another. "My brave ones, I care about each one of you, you are my sisters…my brothers. This is why I have to ask this of you. Are you so unhappy that you will face all of these things?"

It was obvious in her proud, yet unassuming stance behind her harp what her choice was. She would fight to the death time and time again, if needed, and that made me so proud of her, made me adore her even more. For too long, her spirit had been beaten down, her liveliness dulled by the repression that even I, although inadvertently, had forced upon her. My eyes went to her fingers, which were bare of all rings, and I slipped a hand in my cloak pocket to feel the small box there. I planned to ask her to take my hand in marriage as soon as they were free of us, for I was still, although I did not know how much longer it would last, a peer of Cyrene. I wanted her to feel completely free to choose.

"Life is for naught without freedom!" The cry came suddenly from the back of the crowd, near the statue of Euterpe, and a few people turned, but most began to repeat the words again and again themselves, progressively getting louder. Soon it was as booming thunder, which proved to me once and for all that all Bards were gifted with an unusually large set of lungs. However pitiful my capacity was, I too, added my voice, and when I did, I saw her eyes turn toward me, and I gave an encouraging wink.

She began to play loudly on the harp, or at least it seemed like that was what she was doing, but I could barely hear her from the shouts going on around. However, slowly, the shouts began to die down, and her music got gradually softer and softer as if she was guiding it down, which was what she was in reality doing. Soon, the crowd had hushed once again, caught under the charismatic spell she cast with her presence, and music.

Although she barely stood five feet tall, when she rose to her feet again, I felt as if I were looking at someone of great stature. "I don't know…" She bit her lip in a display of vulnerability. "I don't know how I became the leader of this, I don't know that I deserve it, and I know right now that I should find some inspirational words to say…" Her eyes went towards the back of the crowd. "But, all I can think of to say is this…The wellspring of creativity cannot be crushed beneath the tyrannical thumb of those whom think they should own us. We, the Bards, have the strongest voice of anyone! We are the ones that will, that do, tell the history of this world! We are the ones that teach songs that soothe children's nightmares, and weave words that make you shake in a cold sweat! Others inspire confidence! Others inspire leadership! We…" She gave a smile then that lit up her whole countenance. "guide dreams, nightmares, hopes, and fear. When we are gone, our words, our songs, will live on! Who else can say that?"

Cheers rang out, and she pointed to two older people in the crowd, one male, and one female. One was easily recognized as they made their way to where she stood, for the person had been a very prominent leader of the Bards for several years, and the other, a slim Siren, was just as recognizable, though perhaps not as well known. Then she beckoned two other people, one an aged Mhaldorian who the older Bards remembered with fondness, and another was the current leader of one of the most influential guilds in Sapience. "These, whom most of you should recognize, are our leaders! One…" She nodded at the former guild-leader. "has been working hard to get them to see reason one last time." She pointed now at the Siren. "Another has been working on recruitment, as some of you well know." The other two she introduced as one who'd agreed to help bolster forces, and the other, the Mhaldorian, whose name I only remembered from some scandal long before my time, was introduced as one of their principle warriors.

"We will not be uncouth barbarians." She continued. "As soon as we get word that our plea has been rejected, as we well expect, we will wage war! But anyone not against is not to be touched! We fight for freedom, not for blood!"

She nodded at the elderly man, who made his way out of the Gardens, and then said to the crowd at large again, "Everyone, make ready, declare your allies! Sing and play! Prepare in any way you deem necessary!"

It wasn't too much longer, that a distant look crossed her emerald eyes, and she sighed, visibly slumping, only to straighten up seconds later. "It begins! Young ones!" She spoke to the novices, who weren't allowed to fight, but had begged to have some part in it. "usher all those who are not against us to safety, but keep quiet. We do not need panic!"

When the younger people had exited the Garden, she picked up her harp, looked down at the ground for a moment, and then looked back up. A slim black brow arched, and laughter bubbled up, and out of her, then her beautiful alto echoed. "They had a chance, they made their choice, they kept us caged, and chained our voice! Now we fight to shine our light! Onwards Bards, lets make this right!"

And, as was so appropriate, the rebellion of the Bards had began with a song.