Song of Edmon (Fracture World #1)
Adam Burch
MOVEMENT I: EFFLORESCENCE éTUDE
CHAPTER 1
FIRST LYRIC
My father strides into the island manse the day I am born. The same day, the heavens burst in the skies above us. The whole planet is abuzz with the news—the Fracture Point has exploded in space and opened a new pathway for our planet. But the islanders don’t realize that. They see only fire in the sky. They still hold on to their ancient beliefs.
“It’s an omen,” they say.
My father pulls me from my mother’s arms in spite of her cries. Protestations of an island woman mean little to the great Edric Leontes. He bolts from the birthing chamber to the balcony. He holds me aloft to the brightness of the star of Tao, making certain all the strategically placed camglobes hovering around us capture the moment in pristine high-definition aquagraphic. Then he proclaims to the sea, the sky, and all the ancestors old and newly ascended, “This is Edmon, the son of Leontes. Let all behold and claim, ‘The son is greater than the father!’ He is a leviathan!”
My father knows how to exploit an event for personal gain. He makes this ordinary moment, the birth of an unremarkable child, history. On this day, on the Isle of Bone, on the Dayside of the distant planet Tao, my birthday is written in the ledger of our people’s history. It is the nineteenth day of Wu Chen, 8227 by Tao Reckoning, 1234 Post Fractural Collapse. Augurs deem the date auspicious to please him, and the exploding Fracture Point only confirms their announcement. My father—Edric, Patriarch of House Leontes, Nightsider, and a giant of a man seemingly carved from granite—is a king in all but name. His shoulder-length flaxen hair whips in the wind as he makes his proclamation over his firstborn son.
It is the last time he makes predictions regarding my destiny.
You see, I am not a leviathan.
I am nine when my mother and I are summoned by the emperor himself. It is the day after the Combat, the yearly killing games on Tao, an occasion for great celebration. I’m washed and polished, my dark hair slicked back and pulled into a thong. My mother has adorned us both in the finest linens of Bone.
“The island people were here before the Great Song,” she tells me. “We go back to the time of the Elder Stars. Never forget that, Edmon.” She hugs me tightly.
I don’t understand all of what she says, but it makes me feel proud to be who I am.
To me, she looks stunning, her mocha skin smooth and luminous against the cream of the linen. Her hair is pinned up high with inky tresses cascading down her back. She looks like a queen, even though she isn’t one . . .
“Cleopatra was born a commoner on Bone,” Gorham, the old musician and village elder, told me one night a few months earlier. “She was the daughter of a fisherman,” he whispered in my ear as the guests entered for the Eventide feast. “But she was the most beautiful girl on our island. Still is.”
Bone is one of the many small islands that dot the surface of the green seas of Tao’s Dayside like freckles. Here, amid white beaches and limestone cliffs, the sun never sets. Eventide sees the streets empty as islanders escape from the sweltering heat. Almost the whole island comes together at our house atop the summit. The shades are pulled low to simulate the setting sun of Ancient Earth. Family and friends gather in a circle with drums and flutes, strings and voices. Everyone plays. Everyone sings. Even the shy ones are part of the dance.
“Beauty on Tao is always revered, always given power,” Gorham continued.
My mother finished greeting the guests, raised her hands, and signaled for the drums to beat.
“Cleopatra’s mother, your grandmother, was an important voice in the Eventide song, and so your mother, too, was given a voice at council meetings.”
My mother entered the circle of guests to dance. She twirled her body in rapture, and I saw in that moment the girl she must have been before I was born.
“Then Edric Leontes came. He was deeded this island by the High Synod when he won his second Combat.” The old man’s voice turned sour. “The Nightsiders pretend our land is theirs to give. He was smitten with her beauty and some say her arrogance.”
Fire alit in my mother’s gaze, and there came something primal and aggressive in her movements as the drums beat.
“Their love wasn’t the kind that lasts forever, Edmon, only the kind that survives until they tamed each other.” He nodded. “He built this manse for her and for you.”
I did not know how to react to these words then. I didn’t remember meeting my father when I was born, but I listened to the punctuated shot of the drums and watched how my mother held the final pose of her dance, balanced on the tips of her toes. Not a single person in the room took a breath. Then she fell back to earth, releasing the moment. The crowd cheered, and so did I, filled with pride.
My thoughts return to our meeting with the emperor . . . and my father. What will he be like? Will he be proud of me when he sees me?
My mother is like a sea siren, fierce and strong, readying herself for a contest. “We’re to look our best,” she snaps. I feel her tension. This is an important occasion, but it’s more than that. There is danger in this meeting.
We make our way down narrow, winding stairs. They lead from our manse atop the high limestone cliffs through a sleepy town of white adobe dwellings with azure-tiled roofs. We take this path daily to the white beaches, where I collect shells and we bathe in the great Mother Ocean.
On this day, however, a giant mechanical monstrosity awaits us at the docks. Its shiny black carapace hovers over the sea. A sonic engine hums, raising the thing on a cushion of sound. Spindly, articulated claws reach into the cerulean island sky. They will hold the massive metallic balloon when it inflates to carry us toward Meridian, the capital city of Tao.
“A sondi.” I whisper the name for the sonic dirigible. I’ve seen them in the aquagraphic storybooks but never in person. It looks like a dead sand beetle lying on its back. Suddenly, I’m filled with dread.
“Your father thinks this is a great honor that Old Wusong affords him.” My mother’s voice is caustic. “But we’ll not be brushed aside. You’re Edric’s first son. You’re his heir. He wants you strong? Show him strength.”
Be strong . . . does that mean do what I’m told or speak my mind? I wonder.
A boarding ramp extends from the carriage to the docks. A thick, muscular man in a navy-blue, military-cut uniform lumbers down. He is grizzled and scarred. His massive, hairy left arm ends in a puckered stump where a hand should be. The sight of it makes me gasp with sudden shock. His lips curl in disgust as he takes in our appearance.
Is there something wrong with the way we are dressed?