The Rainbow Bridge and the Shadow of the Serpent: The Rainbow Bridge and the Shadow of the Serpent

by Sergio Pereira

  Minutes went by. As they did, the notes on the score seemed more and more like a labyrinth where she would be lost forever. A few more seconds and she noticed that she could no longer put off her encounter with destiny. She gulped. Her throat was so dry, it hurt. She breathed so deeply that her lungs were like two empty popcorn bags.

  She breathed in, closing her eyes and leaning her neck slightly backwards, and she allowed herself a long yawn, while her hair fell down her girl’s back.

  The Fairy Queen of the Death of Art remained silent; however, the Fairy Queen of Fame went back to showing signs of impatience.

  Violet finally decided. Her unconfident fingers stretched towards the piano. She closed her eyes, and prayed for help. She opened them, and when she was about to begin, she heard a very strong sound.

  Boom Zoom, Boom Zoom.

  A sudden strong, sonorous vibration, almost subsonic, tempered with some harmonic sharps, brought everything to a halt.

  Twenty metres from the centre of the theatre, the mist was sculpting a doorframe, nine metres high and five metres wide, which supported a heavy two-leaf door. On either side of each leaf, hinges of gold and bronze, each eighty centimetres, supported and allowed the two parts of the door to open and close. Both were made of dark, reddish wood, with carved, gilt details.

  Boom Zoom, Boom Zoom.

  A huge gong resounded again, made from mist transmuted into bronze and which no one had noticed up to then. One of the Wolf Heads was hammering the gong, on the orders of the Fairy Queen of the Death of Art. It was the gong of Time, which ruled the intervals and interludes of any ballet, opera or symphony at which the Fairy Queen of the Death of Art was present.

  Even though the Fairy Queen of Easy Fame wanted to complain, she didn’t dare.

  Since everything had stopped again, Violet relaxed and felt that her disaster had been averted momentarily.

  Boom Zoom, Boom Zoom.

  The great door opened, making two universes or kingdoms visible and inter-communicable. One was the clearing itself turned into a theatre. What was on the other side of the door had stars, supernovas and young constellations that were exploding in light like cosmic newborns giving their first cries.

  A long staircase could be seen. It joined the door threshold to an endless infinity that was the other universe observed from the clearing. The staircase was also interrupted, or divided into two parts by a small train station, three hundred metres from the portal.

  In a few moments, two male silhouettes could be made out. They were walking and approached quickly. They were soon crossing the threshold.

  - I don’t believe it!

  Violet leapt faster than the speed of her own voice and ran towards them. The piano stool fell back and hit Stefanie’s left foot. The Girl with the German Piano was soon hugging the man in a dress coat, with a baton in his hand. He lost his balance and barely missed falling over because of the girl’s explosive, youthful impetus.

  - You came, Maestro! That’s great! Really great. Hurray! How I’ve missed you!

  - I’ve missed you, too, my girl. But take it easy. Very easy, because we haven’t won yet – he said, trying to hold back a smile and extricating himself from the hug while attempting to compose himself.

  - You, I mean Maestro, you came. Maestro.

  - And we are not alone. Here is my friend who was very well known in his day in the Kingdom of the Blue Earth. He is unequalled in brilliance in the world of dance.

  Violet didn’t know him, but Stefanie would swear for the rest of her life that he was her idol, the Russian genius of Polish origin, Vatslav Fomitch Nijinski.

  - Good evening, little child.

  - Good evening, Mr...

  - My name is of no interest. Just call me the Choreographer. I am here to contribute. Therefore, let us leave aside introductions and get to work.

  There was still a trace of accent in his speech and also a lot of motivational energy. His personality exuded the gift of awakening the best that people have inside them. Although she wasn’t a ballerina, Violet was already infected by him and gave him a beaming smile accompanied by an expression of doubt. A look that lasted but a short time, because it was interrupted by a sudden protest.

  - Hey! Oh no you don’t! What’s going on?

  The Fairy Queen of Fame’s voice rang out terrifyingly.

  - Hey! I have spoken! Trickery! Cheating! Deception! I am the one who has the authority to speak here. Get them out of here! Aghhhhhhhh! I won’t tolerate this.

  Then she let out a hysterical laugh with an echo so loud that it shook even the foundations of the theatre made of mist. The Fairy Queen of Fame doubled in size and advanced, floating in the air, towards the Maestro, who maintained his haughty air. At the same moment, Violet hid behind him.

  - What kind of idiot are you to think you can come here and challenge me in my own domain?

  She took a small oval mirror from her waist, hidden by clothes made of veils and more veils. She tossed it in the air, looking at the Maestro. The mirror began to grow immediately, until it took on the dimensions of a wardrobe. It was one of her most terrible weapons. Full of malice, the mirror was trying to inoculate the vanity virus and thus facilitate the seduction exercised by its owner.

  But, this time, the mirror would not be attacking in a subtle, slow manner. Six metres before arriving at its destination, and exactly six meters tall, the oval object stopped in mid-air. A torrent of notes enslaved in very vulgar melodies gushed from the mirror in the direction of the Maestro, Violet and the Choreographer.

  The Maestro raised his baton and swished it in the air. Pentagrams appeared, containing some of the most magisterial works by the person held by many to be the father of western music. Ludwig Van Beethoven himself, referring to this genius, once said: “Bach (stream, in German) should be called Ozean (ocean) and not Bach!”

  The Maestro was creating a protective shield in the form of pentagrams and more pentagrams written by composer, singer, maestro, professor, organist, harpsichordist, violinist and viola player, the genius of geniuses, Johann Sebastian Bach. There would be no mediocrity, no matter how intense and strong, that could pass that shield.

  The poor enslaved notes were incinerated, forming torches of reddish fire, as soon as they touched the shield, which, the more it was hit, the bluer it shone.

  - You didn’t have me when I was alive and it won’t be now that that you take me with your tricks. You do not intimidate me! – the Maestro yelled.

  Violet shrank when the Fairy Queen of Fame ordered the mirror to intensify its magic. One of the many incinerated notes was hurled back at the mirror, causing it to splinter into a thousand fragments.

  - No, no, no. They’ve broken my mirror! Do you think that’s all I’ve got? You’re mistaken. You must leave here now! Death, I demand that the rules be obeyed. He cannot be here without permission. Who? Who gave permission?

  - I did! He has my permission! – was the Fairy Queen of Death’s firm response.

  The tension in the theatre increased even more and a collective “oh!” was heard. The rats approached the Fairy Queen of Fame in their hundreds, ready to attack. However, seeing the gnashing of the ivory white canines of the Wolf Heads, they no longer felt so confident.

  - What? – screamed the Fairy Queen of Fame at the Fairy Queen of the Death of Art, who remained undaunted.

  - You said you wouldn’t interfere.

  - And I am not interfering. If I gave permission, it’s because this way, it was fair.

  - It doesn’t count. It’s illegal.

  - Since when do you have the moral high ground to clamour for justice so eloquently? It’s correct then, against a simple learner, to seduce a piano to play in your favour?

  - That was the rule!

  - Which you changed at the last minute without clearly communicating to the interested parties.

  - You were not allowed!

  - As a slave to justice, yes I was!

  The Fairy Queen of Fame was sp
itting with rage. A little dry saliva was stuck in the left corner of her lips and was shining as the light fell over her. Out of control, she threatened to advance against the Fairy Queen of the Death of Art.

  She made the first move. Hundreds of rats and dozens of Wolf Heads were at the ready. A terrifying battle, in which no one could predict the result, was forming just as a tornado announces itself instants before beginning its destruction. However, the Fairy Queen of Death’s look, as cold as ancient ice, penetrated her like an X-ray. The Fairy Queen of Fame faltered. She retreated. But as she was a master of dissimulation, she composed herself and was beautiful and seductive once again.

  - Whatever. What you’re doing is a disgrace. Go on, start again. I don’t have all night.

  The Maestro turned around and looked at Violet. She was still huddled behind the Maestro.

  - Take your place at the piano. You can go. But look, reinforcements are arriving. And this time they’re professionals of the highest standard.

  He pointed his baton at the portal where the stars and constellations were still young and in full ebullience. In this way, he polarised the attention of those present for an event that was being announced on the other side of the door. That was when a whistle echoed from infinity and a strange thing occurred. In that universe, the sound of the whistle ran faster than light. It was as if at first the crack and then the thunder were heard, for the lightning then to be seen. Seconds later, and running frantically, because it was losing the race, the light from the front lamp of an ancient locomotive arrived.

  A train was growing in the field of vision. It had arrived through what many physicists call a “wormhole”.

  As soon as the RMV 206 locomotive, pulling, in addition to the tender wagon, ten passenger carriages, stopped at a platform, this platform was taken over by travellers jumping from the train. They were members of the Invisible Orchestra. But now its musicians were visible, since they were travelling through universes that could be called home.

  In a short time, the men and women went up the staircase in an orderly fashion. They crossed the door and entered the universe of the theatre. They were smiling without exception and bowed to all those present. Impeccable in concert dress, they brought with them their finely tuned instruments. They soon arranged themselves in the classic orchestra formation, with a piano in the centre.

  - My God! – Violet said quietly. Under no circumstances did she want to provoke more anger.

  The Fairy Queen of Fame made no complaint. She was merely observing, with her left hand under her chin and her right hand fiddling with her long, red hair, an expression of boredom on her face. Incredible, she could be so unpredictable.

  - I’m getting tired of this. When is it going to start?

  The Maestro walked to the centre of the orchestra, where, beside the piano made of mist, a stage and a music stand for the conductor had appeared. The score for the whole concert was there. Meanwhile, the Choreographer led Stefanie to the right-hand side of the orchestra. He seemed to be giving her instructions. Quietly again, Violet addressed the Maestro:

  - It’s way out of my league.

  She frowned when she stopped speaking. Worry lines appeared on her forehead.

  - There is nothing that cannot be overcome! I have conducted you in the past. Inside each one of us there is the purest seed of true music. As always, for this seed to germinate and grow, a lot of effort, discipline and time are necessary. But there are situations, very rare I know, in which magic can help – when it is deserved and when many need it to be so. I am sure, I believe that this can be one of them. Have faith. So, ready?

  The baton swished in the air again. From the huge lens in the centre of the dome, the light from the Moons on that night formed jets of light that fell over the orchestra and, mainly, over Violet.

  Her hands took on the strength of a man and, at the same time, the delicacy of a young woman. She began the concert, making the piano strings tremble.

  It was a memorable performance of thirty-two minutes and seventeen seconds. The best orchestra ever conceived, in which the flautist drew tears from even the most insensitive brute and the violins, violas and double basses were so connected in a communion of timbres that they gave support to the piano and the young pianist.

  The other wind instruments performed with precision, strength and passion, as they should be played in a performance. This was because they are moved by air that comes from the lungs, which lie next to the hearts of their musicians. A musician who understands and believes this can, with a lot of technique and study, have a direct organic connection between his own soul and his instrument.

  At that moment, the Maestro was unequalled and his conducting led the Invisible Orchestra to the sublime.

  Even the Wolf Heads were moved. Those condemned to the Danse Macabre, too. And so, when in a crescendo Violet and the Orchestra ended the last chord, warm applause coming from several parts filled the space.

  One of the poor rats that allowed itself to be touched by the sublime music and dared to applaud discreetly, received a kick from its mistress that could better be described as coming from a horse. It was thrown a fair distance and broke its back.

  Not knowing the fate of the poor rat, Stefanie ran to hug and congratulate Violet, who beamed her biggest smile of happiness, which was reciprocated by the Maestro.

  CHAPTER X

  THE CONSECRATION OF WHAT WOULD COME LATER

  When the Fairy Queen of Fame looked at the Fairy Queen of the Death of Art, a new silence fell. After three long minutes, the latter broke the silence.

  - I will now announce the result.

  -Hold on! – snapped the Fairy Queen of Fame - I’ll raise the bet. I’ll free everyone if these kids win. Otherwise, I’ll double everyone’s sentence.

  - Not everyone’s sentence. They cannot be condemned to more than they should be. Absolved by the efforts of volunteers when they deserve to be, yes.

  - So let the two girls pay double.

  - Only if they agree.

  - But they have no choice.

  - There is always a choice.

  - Some Fairy Queen of Death you are!

  - I can also be the Fairy Queen of Renovation. It is what the artist does in life with their art that determines what I am for them at the end of their life. You should know that there can always be a new beginning. It is not easy to achieve it. But, in the end, it’s always possible.

  - But after all is said and done, what side is Madame Death on?

  - The side of justice. And I am not Madame Death.

  - Dammit! Don’t come with all that nonsense about justice. I’m sick and tired of you!

  The Fairy Queen of Fame gave up on the quarrel. She always lost when she argued with the Fairy Queen of the Death of Art, and this annoyed her immensely. She turned to Violet and Stefanie. She was a consummate actress. She disguised her irritation and actually adorned her words with a cordial tone.:

  - Do you two accept double or nothing? I’ll free everyone, but then you will owe me double if you lose. One plays, the other dances, in the same challenge of moving everyone with no mistakes. It’s a good deal.

  Violet was going to say no. But she chose not to speak. It wasn’t prudent to speak, let alone bargain with the Fairy Queen of Fame. She didn’t want to push her luck. But something moved her. For the first time she noticed a flicker of hope in the corps de ballet of the condemned.

  Stefanie felt fear and compassion. But the look she gave her friend said everything. She passed the burden of decision to her.

  - What should I do Maestro?

  - My friend, that I cannot say. I can only state and promise that I will be by your side and will support your decision either way.

  Hey, enough of that! This Maestro here is helping. If it’s going to be like that, I have extended rights.

  The Fairy Queen’s tone of voice turned dry and hard, and she continued:

  - Now I want him as well!

  -Do not demand what you can
not have – replied the Fairy Queen of the Death of Art, in a tone so firm that the other could only respond:

  - OK, OK. Let’s get to the business in hand. What do our two prodigious, beautiful young ladies have to say to me?

  - No!

  - What? I didn’t hear you correctly.

  - I said no. I’m not betting anything more with you. Keep your word, and that’s the end of it. You’re even after the Maestro now. What a crazy woman! Blimey!

  Stefanie gave a sigh of relief. The Maestro said nothing and his face showed no expression.

  - That’s that, then then. What can we do, huh? – the Fairy Queen of Fame muttered to herself. She got ready to announce the final result.

  - Very well, I declare that the challenge was...

  In this short intermission, Violet noticed the look of supplication from one of the young dancers in the corps de ballet turn into one of deep sadness. She looked away from the young woman to try not to think about her fate any longer. However, she couldn’t help herself. She interrupted in her inimitable way:

  - Alright! Alright! You can stop. We’re up for it!

  She gulped and then added:

  - But no tricks, please.

  - How wonderful! Brave girl! A deal’s a deal and cannot be undone. Let it be so. But how impertinent of you to talk about tricks again. When you got a little help from your Maestro friend here you didn’t complain, did you? Let’s agree on the following regarding him.

  - What do you want of me? When you speak about me, please address me directly.

  - But what impertinence! You really are a very pompous maestro considering the little fame you have. I always promised you much more. I can’t believe that you rejected me and never took all you could. But I can still make it work. What do you think?

  - Madame. Do not dare try to tempt me. You did not have me in life and now…

  - I believe you have already said that. You are becoming repetitive.