She was calling again; Wrin could hear her even a world away.
“Hey!” His boss called from the tram's rider seat. “Get your mind back where it belongs, Mattin!”
“Right, boss!” Wrin didn't bother to look at the bigger man, but focused instead on the route in front of him. He'd piloted the tram over rougher ground and in worse conditions while paying less attention, but his boss didn't need to know that. Keeping his job with the company was necessary to eke out an existence away from the calls, away from what had raised him up and finally thrown him down – the boss didn't need to know what happened on the trams when he wasn't around.
Few other challenges presented themselves as Wrin made his way through the Tal'tarren swamp but he did his best to look as though he was paying attention. In truth, he was running over the lyrics of the first song he'd sung with her, telling himself the memory of the moment was enough, that men died when they tried to recapture what had been lost.
“Y'know,” his boss said as the pulled into the Jero docking station, “I was on Lorin once, years ago.” Wrin only half-listened; parking the tram was one of the more difficult parts of the job. “Met a girl there, said her name was Terra.”
Wrin's interest perked up, and he clipped the tram's back corner on a docking bay door. “What?”
“Yeah,” the boss went on, “beautiful creature with the purest voice I'd ever heard. Figure she lied about the name, though – I went back years later and found her again. Said she'd never heard of me and then wrapped herself around the first young man that came through the door.”
“That's -” Wrin started, but didn't get any further.
“Don't kid yourself, son – she doesn't give two shakes about you. Forget the songs. Forget the touch. Trust me, you'll be better off.”
There was no point in a reply. His boss wouldn't believe that he was hearing more than just remembered melodies and if the broad-faced Ferian ever did, it would mean Wren's job. Instead, he just nodded and locked the tram in place.
“Get some rest, kid. See you next shift.”
***
They swam together, and Wrin knew he had never felt so free. It was her voice that lifted them both up, raised them above the world below. Even his own shaky tones helped guide their movement, its timbre bolstered by the power of his companion. Together they were unstoppable, a force that could not be turned away or ignored.
All to soon it ended, and he found himself awake and sweating in a dirty bunk, the memory of Silara and her song at once too real and too far removed.
Find me.
The voice was unmistakable – and no longer came from inside his skull. It was all around him, beside him, above him, ringing off the slick walls and oozing up through the floor.
She was calling.
Wrin was up and out the door before he'd finished dressing, stuffing stained shirt-tails into his pants as he went. Others just waking up for shifts in the mines or on the trams ignored him; he only knew a few of the other men, and most were old and grizzled with no interest in another young fool in the compound.
The song led him on, and Wrin marveled that no one else could hear it. The occasional odd look from those he encountered said that rapture was plain on his face, a joy others could not hope to understand. Sound and step led him without conscious thought and soon his way was barred by a sturdy locked door, one that he took a moment to recognize. Once his mind cleared, the double-locked steel entrance and nameplate across the door's broad face told Wrin that his boss had done more than just visit Lorin – he'd brought something back as well.
Years spent in professions less virtuous made breaching the door easy, and he was already pushing it open when he stopped to think about who might be inside. A quick run of the work schedule in his head gave a measure of security – the large Ferian had a shift-meeting to attend and with any luck wouldn't have shirked his responsibility.
Seeing her in the corner of the room, bound hand and foot to the wall destroyed any thought of other men or the possibility of discovery – she needed him!
It wasn't the same one, Wrin was certain of that; his had hair of gold and copper skin where the creature bound was fiery-maned and pale. Still, she did not deserve to be used for a rough man's foul pleasures – she had to be set free. Her song drove him on and Wrin moved forward, hands grasping at chains that would not break.
“In the desk,” she said when it became clear he would not leave her side without prompting. “The top drawer.”
Wrin found a key there and hurried back, dismayed when it only opened the hand-locks. A nearby pair of safety cutting shears provided another way and he knelt beside the thin pri-steel line binding her feet to the wall, hands working frantically to provide the needed pressure. Soon, his arms were weary and hands bloodied, but the chain began to fray. A grunt of effort and it broke, sending him tumbling to the ground and his lovely creature free.
“Thank you,” her voice washed over him like a breaking wave. “Your soul is kind – my sister has spoken of you.” His heart soared. Perhaps there was still hope!
“Is she -” he began, but she spoke over him.
“She remains where you left her, eternally bound. Your choices are not unmade by my freedom.” Her song faded as she spoke – when Wrin looked up, she was gone.
- D
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