by T. Wyse
“The woman was suitable in every way, beautiful and kind, brave and intelligent. She would surely have been an excellent wife for any who were wise enough to see value in the nobility. There was however one small thing, a ‘catch’ as these things are called, which set even the bravest of callers on his way with immediacy.”
“There was magic in her family, they had a long history of dabbling in supernatural forces. Even those who magics were known to feared her upon seeing her, as it was so entwined within her, infused in her very blood.”
“Hearing this made the merchant all the more hopeful. ‘Surely she will be perfect for me!’ He rejoiced, seeking out and finding her village.”
“He met with her family and herself, and found them to be kindly people, and gracious hosts. They were surprised by the journey he had taken, and insisted he stay with them. He was permitted time with the nobles, and when given unchaperoned time together they spoke at length about the supernatural.”
"He spent three nights there, getting to know her and her family better. Surely these people would understand the object, surely they would accept its power without hesitation! Yet when he was alone with her, the conversations going deeper, he was unable to speak of it. He would open his mouth and the breath itself seemed to catch in his throat, a reluctance within his very soul.”
“Knowing the rules of the world, he took his leave when the third night had concluded. His courage would never come if it hadn’t already. The woman protested, not understanding what it was that drove him away. She had thought him perfect, and her family shared in that hope.”
“He admitted as much as he could, dancing around the subject’s specifics. He spoke to her of other magics, and through his own words he came to realize the disparity himself. Their power came from the earth, from spirits lurking in the very soil beneath them. The Copper Egg was different, though in what way he could not be sure, could not vocalize without revealing its existence to her.”
“He was allowed to leave without curse or rage, perhaps because they sensed the alien magic within him, perhaps glad to have him go.
"Tired, but still hopeful, he headed to the southeast, to the land of dyes. This land was one of great shrines and palaces, of vast and wild jungles. He heard tale of a shrine almost impossible to reach, though of glorious nobility. A young woman had lived there her entire life, and now served the shrine as a vassal. She bore powers of the mind, able to read thoughts into the past as well as the future, terrifying all who came into her sight. The monks of the temple feared her possessed by demons of sorts, but she was a resident of the temple, and would never exile her.”
“’Surely she can reach into my mind, I need not explain to her of the egg, she will simply know it.’ The merchant thought, pondering. ‘Perhaps she will be the one.’”
"Again she was perfectly suitable for a wife. She was not of nobility, yet there was an air about her that cast away the thought of the need for such titles. There was an aura of power about her, but he could tell that the others of the shrine were mistaken, that she carried a blessing of the gods themselves through fate or blood rather than the curses of demons."
"Again he spent three days in her company, and again they spoke at length, each day becoming more knowledgeable about one another. He tried to lay open his mind to her, and invited her to read his thoughts and perceptions. Each time she reached inwards to his undefended spirit, the knowledge that he held upon a platter for her to find rescinded reflexively inward. At the end of the third day’s night he left her too."
"She was angry, and confronted him. He had been her only hope, she declared angrily, to end this miserable existence. The anger in her heart gave him a reignited flame of hope, and he felt her reaching inside of him for a fourth time. Even though she was angry and desperate enough to break the numbered rule it was not enough to drive her. She touched the knowledge of the thing for the first time, and immediately pulled back. Her face was covered with the revulsion that he had seen the others of the shrine display for her."
“She was lost, stuttering on words to say, but she understood finally his power.”
There was an oddity here, Amelie wondered silently as a long pause took over. Had the fable simply ended? She thought to make a quip at the unseen creature, to joke that he had forgot the words, but he interrupted her with the continuation of the story, with a strange abruptness.
"'You will not be alone forever.' He spoke to her, trying to soothe her horror. 'Your power is not hellish or deviant, it is something that you are destined to possess.'
He tried to reassure her, but her derision would not cease. ‘I am no teller of the future, but I have seen enough of the world of gods to know that you have a greater destiny ahead, though you cannot yet see it.’ He offered finally.”
In the end she let him go, without curse and with her rage satiated. Her power was the weight of forethought conclusion, perhaps a god or spirit had crafted her in the hopes that she would be the answer to some crisis in time."
"The Copper Egg travelled once more, this time to the southwest of his fingered reaches. He was more nervous and worried this time, if he could not find a truly suitable woman here, then where, he wondered."
"He spent a year in the southwest lands, carefully plotting his way, questioning and blending in. He found a young fire-haired speaker of the temple there, and watched her from afar. She was a thinker of impossible things, of things in the future and of mysterious tidings. She claimed to have come from a city far away from any known lands, and that it was a city blessed by the presence of the one God. None listened to her, save for the Copper Egg, they thought her mad and he did not."
"He watched her from afar for three days, and followed her in three nights. Her words showed a knowledge that felt strangely familiar to him, but that made her all the more dangerous. Each day he stepped forward, thinking to announce himself to her, to offer his name and to speak with her as he had the other two suitors. Each time he tried to move his leg forward to take that first step, that feeling of restraint stopped him, pulling him back."
"It wasn't until the third day that things changed. In the night's pursuit he lost her as she dipped her path inside of the twisting streets. He glanced at the path he had last seen her on, then around with a panicked fear, where had she gone?"
"'I have seen you these days, and I warn you: Your curiosity will be the end of you, thief.' The woman had found her way behind him. He turned to her face, and their eyes locked. Her eyes burned with the colours of the rainbow inside the blackness of her retinas. She looked as if through him, and into his soul. His words caught in his throat, and he simply ran from her, and from that place, never to return."
"She let him go without curse, whatever intentions or emotions that were in her heart were not relevant to him. He made his way back home like a man pursued by a raging demon."
"He settled back down, relaxing upon his wealth once again, his need for companionship drowned by his relief to simply be home and whole once more."
"His fable was over, his three suitors had proven to be lessons to him, and he treasured his life and escape from the third."
"That's even worse than the first one." Amelie sighed, chuckling. She appreciated the attempt, as it had brought her a distracted comfort once again. “Why did you pause where-“
"Yet his fable was not over. The Copper Egg was not a normal life, and he began to question the rules he had known. He knew the rule of thrice repetition, of knowledge only fully coming to bear within that number, and yet he pondered the woman blessed by the gods. She had broken that rule, and there had been a fired and confrontational truth told. Perhaps the story of his suitors would not end with three, he pondered.”
"His life went on as it had and he wandered to the west out of curiosity more than necessity. It was travelling there where he saw something that stopped him in his tracks. It was a house, a fanciful dwelling, well built upon an excellent land. It was not the structure that he found so familiar, but the land about
it. In the land of scarcity and drought, where the wind smelled of salt and of emptiness, this place smelled of gently spiced tea, and of warmth."
"Furthering his suspicions, he was greeted at the door by a woman, and found her to be the only resident, her family having left her to go to the city in years past. She was the lone caretaker of the land."
"He spent the best part of the day speaking with her about her land. She was reluctant to divulge much, completely understandably, but it only fueled his suspicions. That night he hid in the woods outside of her property, but found nothing incriminating in his surveillance. The candlelight in the top room went out and the house was left still and dark, no dark ceremony revealed itself.”
“He watched her through the day, finding no trace of anything outwardly supernatural about the place. He knew well the story of the first bearer of the Copper Egg, and of the gentle covenant with the grey wolf. There was no such relation here, and upon the noon light of the third day with no further evidence to support himself, he began to step away, to take leave of the house without curse and without rage."
"What caught him finally was a simple realization. He had not felt that strange reservation, that feeling of pulling him back from his own madness while around her. The feeling had always been in the back of his mind when he had been with the other women."
"He returned to the house, his heart racing. With each step his resolve to speak to her of these things grew, and each step was unhindered by the reservations of his soul. She was surprised to see him, but bore no signs of worry or apprehension at his presence."
"They sat there, chatting nothingness, his reluctance to speak was a learned habit, from being pulled back by his spiritual self so often in the past. They wasted the afternoon, and into the night. He stood at the threshold of the door, having declared with a muted frustration that it was time for him to leave. He could tell her tomorrow, perhaps the next day, he had assured himself. Something forced his hand away from the knob. His soul whispered to him, telling him that if he were to walk away now that he would not return."
“He turned to her simply, and presented the small orb, his heart pounding in his chest. ‘I am the Copper Egg.’ He declared in simplicity, and to his utter joy he felt the power within the artifact swell rather than dwindle. She did not speak, so he broke the silence. He told the story of the wolf and the egg, and of the passing on of the relic to its new life under his wing. He told her of the things he had done and seen, all to a growing look of bewildered wonder on her face. It was like purging a great weight from his shoulders, and the worry of losing the artifact's powers lessened as he told it, his dependence on its mysteries waned with each word. In the end he finished, his story told in full, complete with him watching her from the woods of her lot.”
"He waited in silence, unafraid of her declaring him a fool, and the egg crumbling into dust before him."
"Instead of declaring his insanity, she stood up and disappeared from his sight a moment. She began a story of her own, one that had happened a number of years ago. She had met with a strange beast, a bird as red as flame, in her childhood. It had escaped wounded from a caravan carrying it to one of the lords in the west, the spoils of war. She had sheltered it in her house, still living with her father and mother, her sisters and brothers. They had found the bird, insisting that they return it, lest they earn the wrath of the wronged lord. She had refused, and her family had cast her out, until she could come to her senses."
"She took the bird with her into the forest, and did what she could to protect it. In the end she had cast herself over it to warm it through the night. In the morning it had healed finally. In thanks for her kindness and her devotion, it bode her to dig in the earth, under the root of a young sapling tree. What she found was an ugly oddity, and yet there was something weighty about it, something she couldn't quite place."
"The firebird told her of the magic of the thing, and of the rules attached. It was a gift for her and her alone. The magic of the thing would end if she ever told anyone of it. 'Surely it can't be so, I must return to my mother and father, to my brothers and sisters, and to share this incredible gift with them!' She had protested."
"The firebird looked down on her silently, its eyes burning. "If they can understand it, and know it without questioning, perhaps the magic will not be dispelled. If they can know you have this power and envy stays from their hearts, perhaps they will not be struck dead by their covetous. If they are perfect and beyond suspicion or reproach, then certainly you can tell them."
“She held an object cradled within her palms, and finally countered his declaration. ‘I am this object, I am The Oaken Coin, and I am alone no more.’ She smiled, tears of joyful relief flowing forth.
There was a silence in the room, the rush of her thoughts inside her ears. "So, did they marry, did they live long and happy lives?" She smiled invisibly.
"Long lives, yes. Why would they marry?" Kokopelli purred.
"Because they were perfect matches, two lonely hearts united by trust." She mumbled, the weakness of her body overcoming her finally.
"When two are meant so much for each other, their bond is stronger than any stated pact." He purred.
"Doesn't it mean that without trust there isn't progress? Without risking trust one can't gain anything?" She asked, remembering Kokopelli's reluctance to allow others knowledge and power over himself.
"No." Kokopelli muttered.
"But if he hadn't taken that step, turned back on his path and taken that leap of faith, they wouldn't have known each other, neither of them would have been certain." Amelie's body was slipping into sleep, despite her struggles to stay awake to argue her point with the little cat creature.
"And if he was wrong in his trust? What if she was a demon, a trickster. What then? He would have been rendered helpless."
"I thought he had given that up, cause it freed him from his burden." Amelie sighed, her eyes closing. There was no crackled reply from the foot of the bed.
The fable followed her into the darkness, and lulled her subconscious into something close to normal dreaming. The images presented themselves, but she was an observer to them all, scrutinizing the actions of the trader, trying to look beyond into further meanings woven and dyed in.
It was this that brought her into the awareness of her hands once more, into her sculpting the white into unsure images. She focused desperately upon them and tried to ignore the presence hovering just behind her, still separated by the golden wall. It swayed, content to simply examine her hands working, simply observing in harmless curiosity.
The room of books exploded with an overwhelming burst of air, both shocking her into action and blinding her senses completely. She managed a sloth limbed leap off the foot of the bed, taking the jumble of blankets with her, and managing to launch one of the pillows squarely into the face of the sleeping books. Kokopelli cartwheeled through the air, betraying a surprised grunt, but landing with a collected and relatively dignified grace.
Still numb and stunned, she was ripped from the blankets by her arm, and stood up like a stringless puppet. The woman tugged at her pajamas with a snipping frenzy, her lungs burning, her nostrils belching out hot contorted fury.
She tried to make out the other figure, but her eyes were worthless still, her sense of the wind only offering a tall male. Donna’s claws dug into Amelie’s shoulders, herself putting the neck askew, and forced the wobbled head to face hers.
“Oh, no, I’m sorry. Is it… Late?” Her head swayed drunkenly. “I’m sorry I’ll…” Her eyes closed again, and her sense of the wind fluttered.
She was shaken crisply back awake.
"Please, don't be so rough, I'm..." Amelie took a stronger stance and forced her eyes open.
“Be grateful that I wasn’t…allowed…to come earlier.” Donna growled, marching the girl to the windowsill.
“Wait, don’t…”
The shades tore open with enough force that they strained for freedom against t
heir tracks, hovering like spread wings for a moment.
Even in the blind daze, she began to shake long before the outstretched drapes lowered. Black shapes painted the courtyard, swarming like ants on a cake, yet all sat motionless, frozen in action. She could feel the heat of their collective glares burning into her face.
"What is this?" Mrs. Woolley's cold voice accused her without uttering it directly.
Amelie had no words to tell her, no words to express. She simply stared dumbfounded at the sight. What would happen now? Where was Kokopelli, she needed to ask...
The hands grasping her tightened their claws into her shoulders, and began shaking her. "Tell me you filthy little pariah! What plague have you brought to my house?" These were answers Amelie didn't have.
"I don't know, I'm sorry, but they're only after me...if..." Amelie trailed off, not knowing how to finish that sentence.
"Enough, Donna." The large man's voice came behind. He shooed the clawed hands from Amelie's shoulders, replacing them with a gentler touch. He crouched down as close to eye level as he could with the girl, and wiped her eyes clear.
It was the man from the underpass from those days ago; M'grevor.
"Tell me girl, and you must tell me the truth. What do they want? What is it that they want from you?" His urgency was lost, as Amelie swayed slightly from exhaustion and aggravation.
"I don't know. I'm sorry. They just want me, like before." Her head swayed, the great man's face bobbed and faded in and out of focus. "I don't think, I don't think they'll hurt anyone but me, just need to be safe." She mumbled, barely coherent.
"Look at those things." Mrs. Woolley snarled with a raw rage, looking down onto her blackened courtyard.
"Close those curtains woman!" M'grevor boomed. She complied with a sharp gesture, almost ripping them out of their fastenings.
"I want her out of here, away from this house." Mrs. Woolley stomped across the room, tearing open the top dresser drawer. She snatched Amelie's dress and lone shoe, tossing them at M'grevor, hitting him in the back. “Take her away, as you agreed, or they can have her. I will gladly open the window and let her out as she wanted. I’ll not have any more blood spent for her sake.”
