by T. Wyse
“But you said?” she forced the whisper up from her silent lungs.
“I said I had not the power, at least in the moment you asked.” He chuckled. “It did not come cheaply or of little effort I can assure you. Even in these last few days it has taken much of my attention to prepare.”
Collette had broken from her stunned viewing of the lights, and watched Amelie with a dew-eyed fascination. "Are you going to try it on, or not?" She grinned.
Amelie, snapping out of her stunned silence, moved behind the squared off curtain, changing into the dress. As she slipped into it, she moved into her own past, her careless times. She recalled the foolish problems of everyday life, minor arguments, and how the dress had let her take to the wind, to forget them all. She remembered the warmth of home, the love of her mother and father, and the wholeness not appreciated fully until it had been truly absent.
She stepped from behind the curtain, wiggling her fingers to feel the fine strings around them, not cutting or hungry, just resting in peace. If only she had a proper mirror to see herself now, she thought as she spun out to show herself to Collette.
Even as she moved, she could feel its lightness, and its warmth. There were some adjustments to it now as well. There were small pockets, bracketed and braced, hidden inside its folds. There was also now a kind of quiver upon her back, its purpose unclear to her.
"So how did you do it? Did my mother teach you?" She squealed in excitement pure. She might have lifted off the floor with her elation alone. “You fixed it…” She caught the words, and with a creeping suspicion she glanced under the bed.
Red tatters of cloth lay under there, unmistakable. “You didn’t fix it.” She looked at him, even more dumbfounded by the gift. “But how could you have…”
"Oh come now." He scolded. "Just appreciate the magic of it. You know what path lies questioning these things."
Amelie shook her head. "I could never see it as anything but a miracle."
Collette gave the cat a quick look, then grinned at Amelie. "
“Wait.” She fell down to the floor again, the dress fluttering softly as she did. The small scrap of cloth she had placed the hair ornament’s remains on was there, devoid of even dust on its surface
She rose again, thinking to ask, but Kokopelli was there, sitting on the bed. Before him was the hair ornament whole and clean once more, but as mundane as it had ever been.
“That I had to repair just now.” He gave a crackled chuckle.
Beaming even further with euphoria, she fastened her hair back as she had so many times before. Now she was ready, now she felt as if there was nothing that could possibly stop her.
"Now, have you made your decision?" The voice crackled.
"I have." She smiled at the little guardian.
She stood there, still stunned by the strange, unreal beauty of the dress, the crows seemingly a world away.
A burst of light erupted from the stairs, surprising both of the girls. The stars forming the tower’s circular base erupted in light, the halo of its ceiling too. The stairway banished all shadows from its hall, and for one incredible moment the crows parted away, scattered by the exploding light.
Though the glory of her dress seemed to wane a little, the sight below them was almost as breathtaking. The entire school seemed to erupt with a fantastically pure light, each and every window shone forth into the stilled silted earth outside, both towers cast an incredible halo of colour stretching out onto the night’s horizon.
Even the silent machine’s colours seemed awakened, though it still stood there unmoved by the bursting revelation.
The two stood dumbfounded at the sight, transfixed on the light shining on the crops and the forest outside.
“I guess you were right.” Collette remarked as the crows encircled the tower again, hiding the awing sight from their eyes. “Looks like they’ve figured out the problem with the power.”
“Indeed we have!” A man’s excited voice accompanied his emergence from the stairwell. “Not just that, but I have it on good authority that the children will be fine!” Professor Barret grinned with mad elation.
"Really? That's fantastic!" Amelie shouted in elation. "So, Melissan and Eilis, and the others?"
"Melissan and Eilis are both quite fine." He beamed. “You were right, of course, little one.” He grinned at Kokopelli, then stopped a moment, rubbing his eyes. “It was always speaking to me you see, always, and my students, wanting to perceive it, they…” His face was more electric, more animated than she could have even imagined possible. “It was because they learned TOO well!”
There was something, a look between her small guardian shot at The Professor, that seemed to quell some of the electricity, that caused him to stop his joyful rant.
"And you!" He hoisted her in the air. "Your dress, back again! Another miracle, another wonderful, impossible miracle." He replaced her on the floor.
Collette was taken aback there, and had remained silent, her eyes wide with shock at his strange actions. "Melissan is better?" She asked him, finally. "The sickness, that green glow, the taint on the sheep is gone?" She looked up, seemingly infected with his electricity.
"All gone, all better, swept away in a moment.” He was holding a box, a white box with rounded edges.
"Can...can I see her?" Collette asked, her face flushing.
"Of course, of course." He dismissed. Amelie felt a little angry at his callousness in regards to the little girl. "After I take care of the business with Amelie here, I'll take you to see her." He looked at Amelie now.
"I take it this means you have decided that you will make your move, then?" He asked, feeling the cloth of one of the sleeves of the dress. "Remarkable." He chuckled to himself, then left it alone.
"I have." She nodded. "Whatever happens, I will face them in whatever way I can." She declared.
"Alright then." He said. "I can offer you anything you need. I have a number of artifacts that could potentially help you, ceremonial knives, some of the green metal artifacts can be used as—"
“I don’t know if they would work.” She shook her head. “Do you have a mirror, maybe?” She looked at Kokopelli.
“Would do no good I fear. Indeed a mirror will cut through an aspect, but it would be fighting an anthill with a spear in this case. What you need to do, what I will explain to you when we are alone, you already have the tools for.”
“I would disagree, little god. You haven’t seen what wonderful things I have hidden away. The lanterns are nothing.”
“I think, I think I believe him.” Amelie shook her head. “I think I have the only tool I need now.” She made a flourishing bow, and allowed the primer pouches loose. They lapped at the near still air a moment, and then she silenced them.
“In fact, thank you for letting me borrow this.” She offered the little lantern.
"No, no. It's a gift to you. It’s important that they go out into the world, for any who are worthy of trust. They are part of the plan that has finally begun again." He closed her palm around the small lamp. "May it burn bright for you, for many years to come." He nodded finally. He wouldn't accept another refusal.
“It might break. What I’m about to do isn’t going to be gentle.”
“If you break it I would be fascinated to hear how.” He shook his head. “Take it, I insist. If you break it bring it back here.”
"Thank you." She looked at the little thing in her hand, it felt warm, wonderful. She had come to know its light as a companion in and of itself, and was glad it would stay with her still. She placed it inside one of the small pouches in her dress, its weight almost nonexistent.
"I do, have one selfish request to make of you yet." He said, opening the case to face him. "One of the technologies I've been working on, one that may
well prove to be the masterstroke, is the salve. You’ve sampled it already, but it’s nature is remarkable. It's a gel-like substance, that has incredible healing properties to it. It is disinfecting, it erases scars, and regrows lost tissue and bone.” He rummaged the case slightly. "In short, Amelie, it shares the gift of our blood with those who are not fortunate enough to rely on it." He smiled.
She nodded. “That’s wonderful. What do you need from me?” She peeked at the box in his hands, trying to see inside.
He swiveled the box around to face her. "I need your blood." It was a syringe set.
“Lyssa and I are hematologists, blood doctors. You see our gift, after years of prodding we isolated it within my blood. I need more samples, and I’m sure we can improve it!” He paused a moment, then added: “I had hoped to get some of Kechua’s blood, but our dealings were on bad circumstances.” He sighed, slight irritation fading in.
A silly thought came into Amelie's mind, frantic with the elated whirlwind of good news. She imagined a rack of books, tucked away in some obscure corner of his tower. She saw their red leather bindings, letters engraved on the covers declared them to be "The Hobbyists Guide to Blood Extraction, volumes 1-12." She emitted a stifled giggle, trying to stop from smiling too much, not wanting to make him feel that she wasn't taking him seriously.
"Will you do it? I won't take it from you by force." He said, looking somewhat despondent.
"Of course." She smiled. She moved her left arm, at a ninety degree angle to herself, and rolled up her sleeve, declaring: "Asay nitukoosinin, Nikeentohtawawak okimawak kamamawahpichik unteh Kokopelli Nahemtumwak."
Kokopelli gave a scoffed chuckle.
As a connoisseur of blood extraction, she found The Professor’s technique almost exquisite. He took one vial of her blood with him, and had faded away, rushing it to the clinic for storage.
The first inklings of the day crept up the horizon, the projected quilt of colours fading from the stilled earth beyond.
"It's time." She said, giving Collette a hug farewell. "Be careful, okay?" She smiled.
"
She and Kokopelli strode out onto the stairs, leaving Collette leaning against the bed, her breath fighting in and out of sleep while she waited for Professor Barret’s return.
Kokopelli hovered behind, and when Amelie descended a few steps, he leapt up on her back, settling into that strange quiver.
“So that’s what that is. I was going to ask you,” she muttered quietly. “Are you sure you’ll be able to stay on? I’ve had nothing but bad luck with passengers.”
He scoffed. “Yes, I will stay on. I would not weave a fool’s seat for myself.” He leapt off, and together they left the glass tower behind.
The hallways bathed in garish and burning white, the lights above humming and vibrating the air around them. Not a single step squeaked over the linoleum other than her own, and she lingered a moment at the commons room. The curved mosaic above looked slick and polished, clean and almost like candy somehow.
Three figures waited for her as she turned to face the doors. She came upon Lyssa and a vanguard pair of staff-armed older youths, a boy and a girl. Their stances were straight and crisp, though their lungs were dim shadows of exhaustion, their bagged eyes tracking Amelie’s approach.
"The stairs are filthy." Amelie joked.
"Who knows what we'll do without you." Lyssa smiled. "I don't think he'll be here, to see you off, I'm sorry."
"He's seen me off already." Amelie smiled.
There was an awkward pause. "As much as I’ve seen, I don't pretend to understand any of this." The woman finally said, looking down at her. "If you do what you need to, resolve whatever itches at your soul, then please come back to us again." She pleaded once more. "It would mean so much, not just to James, but to all of us.”
"I will. I promise." Amelie smiled.
“If you do, I think we can find a better job for you than cleaning.” Lyssa snuck a touch at the dress’ cloth as she moved aside.
Amelie lit her lungs, and held the two handles firmly in loose fists, but was stopped suddenly by a gentle hand shot to her wrist.
"If you lose your nerve, if you need to run back here, we'll be watching." The woman said, her eyes desperate to give Amelie whatever chance to opt out that she could. The pair of guards turned handles on their staffs, and pale blue flames coughed forth from their tops. “Even a million of them won’t be able to get through those doors.”
"I'll be fine." Amelie said, trying to dispel the woman's stubborn fears. The grip on her wrist slipped off, the woman's face looked away from her. "C'mon up, Kokopelli." The cat creature leapt up, grabbing his foothold on her shoulder.
She opened the doors, they swung open, piercing into the world outside.
“You know of the game, of your own loss, but now I will relate the final piece,” Kokopelli began as they passed outside the view of the doors. “In the old times a tutor would have sought you, to teach you, to prepare you. This time it is different, but you are not alone in being without guidance, if there is comfort in that.”
Her footsteps followed the cleanly trampled path. Not a single speck of silted earth seemed to still be loose. Each speck bore purpose.
“The Aspect forms, finds its prey, and then the struggle begins. As the Aspect takes sacrifice, so does it gain clarity and thought, awareness and purpose. It also grows an awareness, and its heart becomes manifest.”
The trees bowed in the wind, the leaves ringing in a concert that sang along with the words flowing over her shoulder.
“I believe you are at a two-edged advantage. First, you have seen her, watched her grow. While not knowing it, she has revealed her nature to you by finding a place in your dreams as she has.”
She opened her mind to the wind, and it flexed outwards like an unused but eager muscle. The air swam above her, swirling around, still not wanting to touch the white concrete of the building, but still painting a clear picture of its contours.
“Second, she thinks of you as irrelevant, and has grown only talons and beaks rather than toughness of hide. When you have struck against her it has failed. When you have fled it has failed. But you were not ready then.”
The crows circled the tower, shifting up and down, their bodies cutting the wind, not floating upon it.
“Know that if you fall, you will return to life, and in respect to the rules you will be allowed freedom to flee and move before she attacks again. Should your dress be wounded it, too, shall heal. Should I fall, I too will rise again in time.”
The wind was there, unhindered and unblocked. It flowed around her, swaying the leaves of the living trees gently, her shining dress a moving liquid in its embrace. She smiled, feeling the prevailing winds, planning her swirling path, knowing that the answer must lie somewhere above if she had faith and courage.
East. The winds blew strongest to the east, towards the rising sun. She tucked her hair back behind the tie, caressing the familiar, rough wood one more time.
The girl who knew the winds smiled, her eyes closed. She stepped away from the shade of the trees, away from the safety of the school. Her foot crossed the line, and entered the wasteland, towards her chosen path.
20
Flying Away
Amelie walked away from the school and its young orchards. The packed silt ended in the shadow, and her steps became slow, plodding, clumsy in the coughing loose earth. As each step behind her was taken, clouded dirt was freed from its rest and blew into the air above. Strands of hair seemed to free themselves from their restraints, apparently as excited as she to feel the free and wild air. The pouches of her dress, even closed as they were, seemed to crave flight as well, whipping frantically at her side.
She stopped, satisfied. A chorus, like a thousand madmen screaming in a church choir, their voices a piercing monotone rising in celebration. The screeching rose, encroached on her, tickled at her bones and grated on her
patient ears.
She merely smiled, eyes shut tight against the meaningless light. She needed no picture of blue meeting brown. She felt them, circling around the school, orbiting both towers, filtering in from all directions and then weaving themselves back into that singular snaking shape.
She opened her eyes, and gave them the respect of meeting the piercing red specks. The snaked ribbon swooped down, pouring over the front of the school like a surge of poured black molasses. It arced before meeting the ground and rose over the crops, turning its head again to meet her, to seek her.
"Are you ready?" Kokopelli asked. His voice betrayed a taint of nervousness.
She said nothing as her pursuers passed through the trees of the orchard. Not a single leaf was displaced by their intrusion, not a single branch bent in any recognition of their existence. Their eyes glowed from the shade, trying to pierce into her fears, to freeze her on the spot. They were not creatures of the wind, not birds at all. They flapped, yes, but the motion was not one to keep them aloft, only part of their camouflage.
She saw them, all of them, a blank mask hiding something else within. A fearful and unsure creature hiding behind an army of false faces. There was a hungry desperation about the creature’s movement.
Kokopelli waited then, in silence. He dug in tightly to the padding across her shoulder, anticipating what would come.
The head of the ribbon passed through the centre of the orchards, ever nearer. The flapping was audible now, their shrieking caws echoed through the wind. Still she was unmoved.
The primers shot open at her command, stretching outwards and stabbing into the blue of the clear sky above. Still she was unmoved.
