The Bluesman

By Jim Peters




I had fought with every trick in my repertoire, but in the end, the Psigourmand was victorious. Of course I wasn’t happy about this, after all I was the great warrior Devion Mull, and everyone knew that I’d never been beaten. But when it mattered most, here I was, in the City of Lights at the Mare Inebrium, drowning my sorrows with Green Eyes whisky, licking my wounds and wishing for another chance to redeem myself. Then I met the Bluesman.

Actually, I felt the Bluesman’s presence well before I met him. As I sat drinking the whisky, Trixie, a tall and thin, light brown-haired lovely maiden came by to check on me. She had to ask twice if I wanted another round before I noticed her - that was how strong the Bluesman’s spell was. You see, normally, I’d have used my gifts to just touch her mind, tickle her, so to speak, just enough that she’d find me intriguing. I simply replied, "No thank you," tipped her and worked my way toward the corner that he was using as an impromptu stage. Those of you who know me and my libido, as well as Trixie and her charms will better appreciate the power of this man’s ‘song’.

As I approached the man I noticed something else that was odd. Every lifeform in the bar was ‘tuned’ in to his song. I gently felt the mind of Max, the bartender. His synapses were firing in perfect rhythm with the Bluesman’s song. Even the D’rrish ambassador, Kazsh-ak Tier, was enthralled, his antennas were swaying with the beat as his giant scorpion’s tail tapped out the backbeat.

For the first time, I really looked at the Bluesman. He was a thin black man, probably in his thirties. He pounded on a homemade ‘guitar’, it was a six-stringed instrument that made beautiful tones. His hands were large and callused, his face bore many scars. But his eyes were what I noticed the most. They were white, with no retina or pupil. This man was clearly blind, playing his music for the credits people would toss into his hat placed at his feet.

I tossed a 5-credit coin into the hat, he smiled and said "Thank you" inside my mind.

"You’ve got the gift." I thought to him.

"Not near as strong as yours." He thought back, never missing a beat.

I sat down at the table beside him, he kept playing as we ‘talked’. "I can feel your pain, Devion Mull." He told me. "Of all the people in this bar, your pain is the strongest. That’s where I get my music, from pain. Your pain is strong enough to draw in all these people. Can you see the D’rrish?"

"Yes, I can."

"Look closely at his eyes." He thought, as his fingers worked the guitar with precise motions.

"My God. He’s crying!"

"Has been for ten clicks now."

"I didn’t realize I was so transparent. Where did you learn your skills? I spent a half dozen years training in the psionic forces, yet you saw through my shields." I told him.

"I’ve had no formal training. I just had to stay alive. My parents were captured by the Grinkun’s before I was born. They were sent to the slave mines deep below the surface. I was born blind, the slave-master wanted to kill me, but apparently I had the gift even back then. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. This, a creature that rejoiced in the beating of slaves."

"My God. Don’t you have enough pain of your own to draw from?"

"I have plenty. But today, yours is sharper. What happened, Devion Mull?"

"I came to Bethdish to help a friend. His name is Garrond Rosh, we grew up together on Lagranthe. His daughter, Sara, has been attacked by a Psigourmand, and I was the only person he thought could help him."

"What attacked her?"

"A Psigourmand. It’s a tiny transdimensional creature, a lot like a tick. It burrows into the victims mind, feeding on their emotions and psionic powers. His daughter will die, because I failed. I’ve never encountered a Psigourmand this powerful before. I’ve fought for profit a hundred times over, never to be beaten. But when it really matters, I failed."

"I see." He said, as the giant scorpion slowly moved over to place a coin in his hat.

"At least you’ve profited from my pain." I motioned to Trixie to bring me another Green Eyes. I watched closely this time, her mind was being touched by the song also. When I paid her, she dropped the tip into his hat and walked away.

"Yes, I’ve got fourteen credits in that hat now. I’m usually lucky to make five in a night. Your pain is strong, I’m sorry for you."

"What happened to your parents?" I asked.

"They are still in the mines. I was able to escape with a merchant Grinkun who thought he could make a profit from my abilities. He did, for a while. Then his mouth got the best of him. A bounty hunter blasted him on an independent base for a rude comment. Nobody cared about a dead Grinkun, so I found myself alone. I worked my way here, to the City of Lights, one song at a time."

"I just realized, I don’t know your name." I replied.

"Don’t have a name. They just call me Bluesman."

"Your song is powerful. I never thought I’d see a D’rrish cry. I didn't know eyes on stalks could cry."

"Music touches all species. Even D’rrishes and Grinkuns."

"Wait!" I said out-loud, an accident of my excitement. I smiled a ‘sorry’ smile and shrugged my shoulders at the staring patrons. "That’s it!" I thought it, this time. "Your music can touch all creatures. If you could distract the Psigourmand with your song, let him feed on the emotions and let his guard down, I could kill him. I know I could!"

"Sounds dangerous. Can this Psigourmand pass to another host?"

"No, not without returning to their dimension. If he does that, it would seriously weaken him, and I could kill him or at least prevent him from returning. We’ve got to try. It’s the only hope for that poor girl, Sara."

"I don’t know about this." The Bluesman mentally sighed. "I don’t know how to control my powers like you do. I don’t have the discipline."

"All you have to do is play your music. I’ll do the rest. If we can save the girl, I’ll help you. My friend has money, perhaps we could hire some mercenaries to break your parents free."

"Now you’re talking! You get the girl here and I’ll play my songs."

I jumped to my feet and ran to a com-panel. I called Garrond Rosh and told him to bring Sara to the Mare Inebrium immediately. He protested, saying that she was too weak, but I insisted that I could save her. But it had to be here and now.

I went to Max, the bartender and explained that I needed to bend the rules regarding minors in the bar for a little while. His will was strong- stronger than I'd thought it would be, it took a lot of massaging to make his words come out yes. But finally I convinced him that it was the right thing to do.

Garrond Rosh appeared at the door with Sara in his arms. The girl was pale and fluttering in and out of consciousness. I had him lay her down on one of the floating tables as I felt the Psigourmand’s presence.

"Didn’t get enough, eh?" the beast asked. "This time I’ll crush you."

I nodded at the Bluesman to start his song as I felt a burning sensation growing from the base of my skull. If anything the Psigourmand was even stronger now. "You cannot have this girl. Go back to your dimension now, while you still have the choice." The pain in my skull grew stronger, my best shields couldn’t block this attack. I knew that if I survived, I’d have the mother of all headaches.

Then I noticed it happening. The Bluesman’s song was building, the other minds in the room were joining in on the beat. The D’rrish’s stinger tapped in perfect time. I strained to feel the mind of the Psigourmand. It’s rhythm was flowing with the song. I closed off my mind as best I could, hoping to feign failure. The Psigourmand fed on the emotions, unaware that the pain was making it an easier target. It’s feasting brought its guard down, in its gluttonous orgy it grew sloppy.

Then something amazing happened. In my mind I felt every other mind in the bar, giving me strength and courage. The D’rrish’s thoughts were there, telling me to strike with my non-existant stinger. Trixie was there with her thin bladed dagger, Max was there with the biggest blaster I'd ever seen in my life- the one I now new he kept hid under the register. But mostly, Garrond Rosh was there, bare-fisted but ready to fight for his daughter. Together we struck the Psigourmand.

"No! It can’t be." The beast screamed. "How? You are many now, how did you?"

The Bluesman pounded his guitar, I struck with a mind blast that literally sent the young girl into a convulsion. I felt for the Psigourmand, searching out its nauseating signature in her mind. It was gone.

I fell to my knees as the Bluesman strummed the finale of his song. After a moment of complete silence, I heard Sara struggled to speak, calling "Daddy?"

I let out a tremendous yell of victory. The bar patrons looked at me with surprise and shock as the spell wore off. Max yelled, "Get that minor out of my bar now!"

I took the Bluesman back with me to my hotel room, where I downed a handful of headache pills and we both slept until late the next afternoon. Once we found something to eat, I discovered that Garrond Rosh had credited my bank account a hefty sum in appreciation, with a sincere and touching note apologizing for ever doubting me. Sara had left a message promising to make a cake for her ‘wonderful uncle Devion.’

Later that evening, the Bluesman and I went to the Military room at the Mare Inebrium. We had mercenaries to interview.

THE END

© 1999 by Jim Peters

Jim Peters, 33 year old father of 2, living in central Indiana. Unpublished as yet, currently working on a novel as well as the ever-present short story that demands to be written.

E-mail: Rothkra@aol.com


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