VOLINETTE'S SONG
This is a sample chapter of Volinette's Song by Martin F. Hengst.
For more information on this title, and other titles in the Magic of Solendrea series, visit my website at: http://martinfhengst.com
Copyright 2014 Martin F. Hengst. All Rights Reserved.
Chapter One
"I said NO!"
Volinette pushed the lute back into her mother's arms with more force than she had intended. There was a dissonant twang and snap as the neck of the heirloom instrument broke free of the body.
"Now look what you've done," Reanna said, her lips set in a thin white line. "Your grandfather's lute, ruined."
"I'm sorry." Volinette was sorry. She remembered sitting on Poppy's knee, watching his fingers dance across the strings while his rich baritone rolled along with tales of battles long past and loves lost. The memory of those evenings by the fire, listening to him sing and play, were some of the best of her childhood.
Poppy was a famous minstrel, just as her mother was, and her father, and her sisters and brother. In fact, as the youngest child in a family known throughout the Human Imperium for their beautiful music and fine performances, she had been expected to know every word of every verse and every note in every score. That hadn't been much of a feat for Volinette. She seemed to have a head for music. She could almost see the notes as they were being played and hear the poignant words of a ballad in her head a moment before she had to sing them. Her mother said it was a family gift.
Even so, she hadn't wanted to follow in Poppy's footsteps. Music didn't speak to her like it did to them. The screaming adoration of throngs of fans quickened their blood and pushed them further in pursuit of their art. It just made Volinette nauseous. The first time she'd been up on stage in front of a thousand people, she'd burst into tears and fled to the dark comfort of the trees at the edge of the village.
"I'm sorry," Volinette repeated after a moment's hesitation. "But I'm not Poppy, I'm not Father, and I'm not you. I'm not a bard or a minstrel. I don't want that. I don't want to 'carry on the line.' I want...no, I NEED to do this!"
"Don't be ridiculous." Reanna's voice was sharp but low. Her eyes darted around the courtyard where they stood, checking to ensure that no one had overheard their heated conversation. Her mouth snapped shut as she watched a young man pass by them. He nodded to them, and Reanna offered him a curt bob of her head. "What you NEED to do is stop this foolishness and come home. It isn't too late to fix this mess you've made. Father will help if you'd just go to him and beg forgiveness..."
Volinette stared at her mother in stunned silence. She felt the first prickles of tears behind her jade green eyes and forced them back. She refused to stand here in the shadow of the Great Tower of High Magic and blubber like a little girl with a skinned knee. She'd passed her fourteenth nameday not too long ago. She wasn't a child any longer. It wouldn't be too many more years before she was expected to settle down with a husband and turn her thoughts to adult matters. Even so, the insinuation that she should go crawling back to her father and ask his forgiveness, when he was the one that cast her out in the first place, was appalling.
"Beg forgiveness?" Volinette's voice cracked as the question squeezed from between her lips. "For what? For being a...what did he call it? Oh, yes, I remember. A carnival monstrosity. Please, Father, won't you forgive me for something I can't control and you couldn't beat out of me?" Reanna's hand moved so fast that Volinette didn't realize she'd been slapped until her cheek began to burn with painful intensity. She raised a hand, her fingers stroking the lightly tanned skin with its almost imperceptible smattering of freckles across her nose and high cheekbones. The flesh was hot, a reminder of the sudden and unexpected assault. The tears that she'd been holding at bay seemed very close now and Volinette fought with every ounce of control she had to keep them from slipping from the corners of her eyes. She was afraid that if even a single tear stole past her guard, she might not be able to stop the deluge that would follow.
