‘Allaigna’s Song: Oburakor’ by JM Landels

Runaway. Fugitive. Ranger.

And now, after six years of military service, Allaigna sees her career take an unexpected leap, in this all-new adventure by JM Landels.

In the closing pages of Aria, Allaigna vows her oath to the Prince. Now, in this excerpt from Issue 27, Summer 2020, Allaigna again comes face to face with her grandfather.  And, as a bonus, above are some never-before-published character sketches of Allaigna as an adult, done by JM back in 2004 when the character first popped into her head.

Allaigna’s Song: Oburakor

by JM Landels

Verse 1: Farewell and Well Met

It was one last chance to sing in the glittering great hall of the Bastion. How could I refuse? Tomorrow I’d be resigning my commission, but tonight was a time to celebrate.

I gratefully accepted the mug of pale cloudy beer offered me by a page, smiling to put her at ease as she struggled with her tray. She was younger than I had been when I first came here, and probably no less overwhelmed. “Thank you,” I said, and lifted the tankard in salute. “A boon to a tired throat.” We had taken this break, Kaelin and I, to rest our voices, but still had another set left to play.

She didn’t leave. “Your singing is so pretty, mistress,” she said, in a stronger voice than I’d credit an eight-year-old with. 

Perhaps not as overwhelmed as all that, I thought. Certainly braver than I was. “Why, thank you,” I reiterated.

“I want to be a singer,” she said, scowling. “But my parents made me come here.” The dislike of pagehood was evident in her face.

“It’s not so bad as all that,” I said with a conspiratorial smile. “I was a page here once too.”

Her eyes widened. “Truly? Why aren’t you a knight?”

“Not all pages become knights.” I wasn’t about to go into detail with this precocious girl regarding my banishment home to Teillai or my journey from there through the Ilmar when I’d subsequently run away from home. “I’m a Ranger. Or I was. I’m singing tonight with Mistress Kaelin before I bid farewell to my troop.”

“Where are you going? Could I be your page?”

This girl was full of questions that I had no answer for, but the last was easy. “Rangers don’t take pages. But while you are here, try to make friends with Mistress Kaelin.” I nodded toward my friend. “She knows more about this land, its history, and its people than anyone else I’ve met. And if you truly want to be a singer, she is your best bet short of joining a Leisanmira caravan.” I couldn’t tell if the look on her face was fear or distaste at the mention of my grandmother’s people. I hoped she would attach herself to Kaelin, who would educate that prejudice out of her.

Before the girl could ask more difficult questions, a senior page came up from behind and tapped her on the shoulder. She spun guiltily, splashing beer from the remaining two mugs on her tray, then managed an awkward curtsy back in my direction before hurrying off.

The senior page bowed. “Their Highnesses the Prince and Princess request your attention, mistress.”

The beer turned sour in my belly. I had come here full of bravado, to perform in front of my grandfather incognito: a silent gesture of defiance after serving in his Rangers for six years without him knowing. Though I seldom used my spellsinging these days, I had done so tonight to alter my hair colour and the apparent shape of my face. Not, I felt, that Grandpapa would even recognize the twelve-year-old girl in the twenty-two-year-old woman.

I wound my way through the crowd from the performers’ dais to the royal one at the opposite end of the hall. Grandpapa had his head turned, talking to a guest beside him, so it was Princess High Gwannyn who spotted me first. She had hardly changed in the years since I’d seen her, as if time had stepped around her while it engaged with Grandfather. He had always seemed old to me, as grandparents do, but the shock of the pouched skin around his watery eyes as he turned them to me made me stop where I was. I had wondered whether he would recognize me — it hadn’t occurred to me that I would not recognize him were it not for the crown and the position of his seat.

Gwannyn lifted a hand. “Come closer.”

I took a step nearer and bowed. “Your Highnesses,” I said.

“The Prince and I have greatly enjoyed your performance tonight,” said Gwannyn. Did she recognize me? I wondered. I had been beneath her notice until the day I was exiled from Rheran. Her eyes, as ever, gave nothing away.

Grandpapa was peering at me rheumily. “Gipsy,” he announced. “Your voice is Leisanmira,” he concluded, slurring the word.

Gwannyn put a hand on his, and the courtiers on either side of him turned to each other in polite conversation. He leaned forward, peering at me from under bushy eyebrows. “Sorry, that’s not polite to say these days. But’s true, isn’t it?”

To find out what happens next, pick up your copy of Pulp Literature Issue 27, Summer 2020!

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JM Landels is an equestrian swordswoman, editor, and novelist based out of Langley BC. Her character Allaigna has grown up in the pages of Pulp Literature and her second novel, Allaigna’s Song: Aria, was released this spring.