Children of the Silent Season (Heartbeat of the World Book 1)

by T. Wyse

  She listened to his words carefully, and yet the light still ground at the back of her mind. That scene felt familiar, the light closer and unhindered by carved walls between them. She could recall the agony of staring into it, and a feeling of being pulled, or perhaps pushed away.

  "These beings, are known as Ushers." He declared. The shapes of the Ushers each spoke in turn, their words lost on the unreality, yet their gestures were vivid. They deliberated on the man’s fate. The man spoke, his words lost as well, and the Ushers responded. Finally the man stepped forward, reaching out to the symbol ahead.

  "But...there are people who don't believe." Amelie said, feeling disembodied, it was strange that these words could pass her lips but the other questions could not. "What happens to them?"

  The image of the man shimmered, and the darkness was replaced with a new shape. A new figure now walked down a different version of the path. The trees had been replaced by buildings, the dark soil replaced by concrete. The heart was now simply a dead end wall, the end of a constricting alley. There were two figures bordering the symbol of the alley, they both stood silent. The figures were present in the other man's judgment, but they had remained still and without contribution as the spirit creatures deliberated his fate.

  "It is a lonely voyage for those who reject the spirit world in its entirety." The voice declared. "Yet the world is not without mercy, or charity."

  The two figures bordering the symbol began to speak in turn. They were not as animated, not as familiar as the Ushers had been. Their forms were of ancient white, unbroken by spirits within them. As the figure on the left spoke, the man slumped as if being burdened by weight. As the figure of the right spoke, the weight seemed to reduce in chunks, his spirit lightening. In the end the figures were silent, and the man stood with a meekly slumped posture. He gave a look of sadness at the symbol, indicated by his posture alone, he reached out to touch it; then he was gone.

  The world shimmered, and the darkness dissipated. They once again hovered above a facsimile of the living world, but the transition was jarring, the image of the spirit world still leaving an oily afterthought.

  Years had since flowed through the rounded shapes of the brown globe. A man now stood beside the great and ancient creature who had met with Enut. The beast held a mighty paw towards the world, offering its guidance to those who would take it.

  Worshippers came unto the creature, giving tribute in wealth and in prayer. The beast grew, its red light shining brightly, becoming an inferno.

  "Ushers are powerful indeed, and yet similarly they are powerless." Qotsamosa stated. "They can shape the earth, are immortal, mighty beyond any measure, and yet..." Figures came to the creature's den once more, humble but insistent. The great beast rose up to aid his people, battling against invading armies, his power invoked in full. "Yet we are malleable, and powerless against belief itself." The perception of time moved forward smoothly but quickly. The great beast faded now, forgotten, his radiant red fading to a deep, sickened maroon. The blue figure stood beside him, now a man himself, he tended to the creature though his kindness was given only hate in return.

  "Who are those two?" More green lines faded in interruption.

  "The Usher was an old god known to Enut's tribe as 'Lo'. His companion is Enut." With the invocation of the name, the image stuttered again.

  "I thought the man was Enut?" The lines grew thorns in her added confusion.

  "He was, and so too was his last born son." Lo faded further, in a process identical to Amelie's dream about the silvered cat. Lo became a small, wretched beast, and yet having Enut beside him seemed enough to sustain him.

  "So you are, an Usher then?" Amelie asked. Was he that child, was that what he was showing?

  "The world will change, the canvas set." The noble voice declared, and the world was consumed in a wall of blinking darkness. "I will tell you a story which is the first I remember."

  “I speak now as I would have when this tale was still young. Take this to heart and you will understand its meaning more profoundly.”

  "Once, before there was the world that we know, there was nothing but fire." The world below her burned, flames licking up into space, touching her ghostly presence in the memory. "The world was a twin to the sun, burning endlessly. Plants would grow, only to be consumed, water would fall, only to be turned to steam. The twin suns were ruled by Tel, the great father, and Lo, his son." A sapling cracked the earth, only to erupt in flames, water rained from the sky, only to boil away into clouds.

  "Lo burst forth from his cave, driven by anger. He had grown tired of his father's reign, and had decided to change the world, simply out of defiance. Tel had declared that everything would burn forever, you see, even though life craved to be born."

  “In the depths of Lo’s cave there were places untouched by the purging fires of the world. From the depths he brought forth clay and fashioned a creature from it. Lo fired the creature in the depths of the earth, at the end of his caves, solidifying the form of man and making him alive. The man came to be called Enut.”

  "That's not..." Amelie started. The vapors shimmered a moment, and she thought better of protesting.

  Enut was of the same shape has he had before, though he lacked the spirits hiding within himself. He was empty, and a pure radiant blue. “Lo rested then, content to lurk behind in his caves, safe from the prying eyes of Tel. It was Enut who would act in his stead, so Lo would not incur his father’s wrath if he failed.”

  The image shimmered, and changed. A great creature, towering, impossibly huge stomped dramatically about the world, leaving rekindled flames in its wake. “Lo had learned the secret of creating life from Tel. In those times many of Tel’s creations walked the earth, none more fearsome than a great ape, known as Chala. Though flame is hungry by design, it is also without form or purpose, or ration. It was Chala’s task to keep the flames of the world ignited, to smite out any life not directly created by Tel’s influence. To do so, Chala had been entrusted with a piece of Tel’s very form, which he held at the end of an ever-burning club.” The figure of the great ape towered above the skeletal remnants of trees. He strode through the ashes of the world, the ember held in a triumphant place above his head.

  "Enut came to Chala, standing in his path. The great ape leaned down, curious about this strange creature. 'What are you, little beast?' Chala demanded. 'I am Enut', man declared, 'who are you?' he asked."

  "Chala was surprised by this, and amused. 'I am Chala, the great beast of fire. I keep the world ablaze.' He declared.”

  “'Do you?' Man asked. 'I am a blind creature, a wretch walking this world, I cannot see you.' He lied."

  "Chala regarded the strange creature below. It had eyes just as Chala did, but Chala was a foolish creature, and a vain one. 'You cannot see my glory? You cannot see my fantastic burning ember?' The beast roared, annoyed.

  'I cannot, great one. I mean no disrespect to you, of course, great one.' Enut repeated, soothing the beast. 'Perhaps if you were closer, I could see you.' Enut declared."

  "Chala leaned down, his face directly in front of the man. Each tooth in his mouth was larger than Enut, and he struggled to remain standing against even the breath of the monster. 'Now I can see you, great one.' Enut flattered. 'But still, I see no burning brand.' He decried."

  "Chala, his ego bolstered by the man's acknowledgement of his over apparent greatness, lowered his brand from above his head, as he had always held it until now. 'Do you see it now, my great and burning brand?' Chala asked. 'To hold it closer, would certainly boil your skin, little creature, and I like you too much to do so.' He laughed."

  "The man replied: 'No, great one, I cannot see it.' Enut felt the blistering heat of the brand, it burned at his cheeks, but he held firm. Chala moved the brand closer to the man. 'Do you see it now, little creature? Your skin blisters in the heat, your hair smokes.' The great ape declared."

  "'I still cannot see it.' The man declared, though his hair was turning
to smoke, his skin had begun to blister painfully.

  'To hold it any closer, would be your death, little creature.' Chala declared."

  Amelie saw Chala's face, and knew that the ape was reveling in the thought of killing the small human. Chala's malevolence was as evident as his pride.

  "'To see your full glory, is something I would gladly trade my life for.' Enut declared. Chala held the brand closer, and the man’s body began to smoke. Enut reached out, and tore the brand from Chala's hands. Chala was stunned, paralyzed by his foolishness, and then enraged he reached out for Enut."

  The tiny figure ran off, holding the burning brand aloft, tantalizingly close to Chala's stomping figure.

  "Chala chased like that for seven days and seven nights. In the end Enut stopped, exhausted, and Chala grasped him, squeezing him furiously. 'You have tricked me little creature! But now I have you, and I will enjoy killing you.' He roared. But the man simply laughed."

  "'Why do you laugh, foolish creature? I have you in my palms, I have my brand again, you have lost!' Enut looked up at the creature; 'look around you, and tell me what you see.'"

  "Chala gazed around the earth, and understood. Without Chala's burning brand to stoke and give life to the inferno, it had burned itself out. The plants had risen, taking the opportunity to grow plenty, and to spread along the world's breadth. The rain had fallen, taking the opportunity to pool, to form lakes and rivers and oceans. Lo too, had been busy, and he had created other creatures, Animals now walked the earth as well."

  "Enut slipped out of the hands of Chala, and he took the brand, thrusting it deep into the earth. The tip of the brand broke off, where it still burns to this day. Chala bellowed in rage, and blindly attacked. The man was smart, and calm, and he fought with the ape. He fought the creature mired in the swamps, he fought him inside of the oceans. Finally, Chala was cooled, the fire in his heart had gone out, and Enut slew him. The beast’s blood became lava, his body shattered across the world, becoming volcanoes.

  "Enut too died from his wounds. Only his finest gift, the impossible resolve of humanity, had kept him fighting. Lo emerged from his cave once more and mourned the loss of his first creation. Lo tore the body into nine pieces, planting each in a region distinct from each other. The pieces grew into humans, the humans into tribes. Finally, Lo planted Enut’s heart at the mountain that is the roof of the world. From the heart grew an egg, and from that egg grew Qotsamosa, the great silvered cat."

  "That is the story of how the world came to be." The images stopped, the world paused, stopped in time.

  "But that's not true." Amelie said, seeing it finished.

  "It is the story a people who once knew me, once told about the fashioning of the world." Qotsamosa's voice replied. "It is as true as it needs to be." He conceded.

  "What's the truth though? Who are you?" She asked.

  "I was once like you, a mortal. I hungered for more, and..." He trailed off.

  "What's wrong?" She demanded, annoyed.

  "We Ushers are not perfect, I am very old and even in this form, with this temporary glory, it is difficult to recall even this much with clarity. I am not so much Enut, not so much Qotsamosa, not so much Kokopelli. It is what people know an Usher to be at the moment which is key."

  The vapors changed, they were cruder now, closer to the lined images she had seen the first night.

  "I believe Lo was a primeval god, known to Enut's tribe. He was a god of war, of masks. He manifested for them, fought for them. The tribe was consumed by war, defined by war, to the point that the other Ushers they knew faded into secondary importance."

  Lo stood behind a tribe of grey figures, they battled other small figures. There were other shapes, red outlined Ushers like Lo, but much smaller, much more in the background.

  "Enut's tribe gained whatever victory can be achieved from war and he became the leader of a unified council of tribes." The triumphant figure rose above, on a throne of sorts. "He had a family, but his people were beset by a terrible plague." The familiar image of the people turning to black and crumbling showed itself again. "Enut, somehow not taken by the illness, begged Lo to spare his son's life. Lo agreed, striking a bargain with the man."

  Something was different from the first images.

  "He agreed to serve him, that there was a coming change to the world." Lo struck the man, but instead took from him his heart, consuming it. The son disappeared from the cave, finding himself alive and whole in the remnants of the village.

  "And then the Silent Season came?" Amelie asked, trying to puzzle things together on her own. "But there was nobody left?" She asked.

  "There were people left, certainly." The great cat's lines had begun to fade further. "The bargain was that Enut would share with Lo what he had, that he would make sure Lo didn't fade, in return Lo would heal his son, and teach him the ways of the Silent Season."

  The figures of Lo and Enut appeared, Lo beckoned to the world.

  "Enut did fight Chala, but Lo was no creator of any kind. Chala was a great beast, but he was an Aspect, not a child directly borne of the sun. The world was consumed by fire, but it was not the beginning of the world, merely abeginning. When the Season passed, Enut kept his bargain, remembering Lo as he could, but the people no longer sought war, and both the Usher and disciple changed."

  "Lo became smaller, gentler. Enut changed into Qotsamosa, the great silver cat. The people believed in the divinity of great cats, and chose to see Enut in that form. That is the dual nature of the Usher, child. We are powerful, yet malleable. As our stories are corrupted, as the belief holding us aloft changes we too change with it."

  The lines faded slowly, and Qotsamosa was again before her. The silvered fur, elegant and holy had dimmed. His eyes were now flecked with red embers, his regality beginning to slump like melting snow.

  Amelie felt a pain in her heart, eyes welling up for the faded Usher before her. She embraced the fading god, the tears coming in streams.

  "I see you, I've seen you." She whispered. Her guardian began to shrink, his fur became matted again, his back arched. She looked at his face, it was wracked with remorse, with the pain of loss.

  She carried him, now smaller, and placed him on the foot of the bed. He had become the old shagged wretch from before, that strange little beast she had come to know as a friend.

  "I'll remember. I promise." She whispered softly to the sleeping form of the little, wretched cat.

  14

  Normalcy

  Lucidity flowed through Amelie’s sleeping mind, the events moments before passing into subconscious thought.

  She sat in the nook at Paola in the darkness, but now the jutting and jagged concrete bit into her back, holding her against the wall with barbed teeth. Her two friends sat beside her as always, but the jagged brick restrained her from turning to see either.

  The linear images of Kokopelli’s gifts, still brilliant in their colours, shone against the dim resonant blue of the space. They scrolled in an ethereal index in front of her face, moving too quickly for her to lock onto with her sight. The words bestowed upon her murmured in concert with the images, layered on top of one another in an inescapable chaos that ached in her skull.

  Strangest of all, just beyond those images and facing Amelie directly, a great iron clad door closed the space from the light of the hallway.

  “That couldn’t be what you wanted. Should always ask for more. Three tries and in the end what does any of it mean?” Victoria’s words echoed in the space.

  Yet there was something to it all. Worst off, she could sense clarity beyond her periphery. Her sense of the wind tasted those teasing truths, if only she could move to the right or left.

  “Shouldn’t have asked for any of it. Should’ve just stayed content, stayed put,” Amanda’s voice cut against the hum. “That’s what they said you should do. What they all said you should do.”

  She squirmed, fighting against the immobilizing barbs, but only bled for her efforts.


  “Hm. So close, though. So very close,” Victoria’s voice mused with poisoned sweetness. “Almost there. Almost a whole picture. Just a little more. One more little push, maybe.”

  Amelie struggled against the restraints, and blood rushed down her face. Drips of silver became streams, pooling underneath her in that warm familiar gold.

  “No, don’t look, don’t try.” Amanda’s voice grew hazy, fading into the distance. “Sometimes it’s better not to know.”

  And then the image ended as the flurry of her hands was tamed into stillness. Yet the carving of the cell, with the shapes of her two friends beside her, was the least of the additions to the pen wall.

  Amelie stood amongst the blue bladed grass once again, and her sense yawned outwards into the walls. A lifetime of carved memories submerged now under the new graffiti, and she pondered just how much work her dreaming mind had done. Her mind spun, feeling out every detail of the domed walls around, and found the storyteller’s lines etched from the highest tips of the dome to the very base where it hid among the swaying grass.

  Every moment of every explained pictograph lay out in the open, and the wind hissed and whispered like a curious museum piece in remembrance of every word, every inflection that she had received. Stranger still, she found the tales woven intermixed with the lines. The ongoing saga of the Copper Egg and Oaken Coin joined the priced words.

  She slipped to her knees in either confusion or awe, but no trace of fear tingled against her stomach or spine. Even when she made out Crow’s shape, whom she had sat next to inadvertently, the fear failed to rise.

  The golden blob encircling Crow trembled against Amelie’s own. It seemed larger than before, and the cloaked girl inside seemed less in a perpetual trembling state.

  “I wanted to talk to you, before,” she began, glancing at the walls, but finding that swimming ache in her head returning, she turned her attentions to the merry grass.