by T. Wyse
The figure of the boy neared, and helped her head out of its half buried state. He moved her onto her back, she cried out in pain. The figure of the wolf was there, unmoving.
"You killed..." She gasped for air enough to speak, "...him?"
"Him? Sadly no." He put a soft bundle of cloth beneath her head. "Rest for now, we can speak when you have healed." He smiled.
"You aren't...going to kill..." Her lungs collapsed, she winced, fading into unconsciousness.
"You? Of course not." There was a pause then, "You shouldn't listen to strange and silly old men." The boy chuckled.
"You are back." The chorus reprised. "Not alone any longer, not a solitary path now." The voices were hushed. "Perhaps it was envy, not hunger, that drove me. I gained appreciation for your spirit the second time I tasted of you. I gained reluctance."
"I lived for such a short time, and yet I have seen things I know to be remarkable, to be amazing. I saw your life, and the lives of others whose blood I imbibed. You are luckier than you know, more blessed than you can even imagine."
"
"Thank you. Thank you for trying," the chorus echoed as one. "Do not grieve for me. I speak to you from beyond the wall, linked to you by final duty."
"
"I have not fully crossed, but even now I taste it. It is glory, divinity, and I gladly take my leave, with this parting prize conceded."
The figure of light beyond the wall dissolved away, into steam like vapors, disappearing into the impossible murk beyond the impenetrable wall. It left an orb in the centre of its being. The gift pierced through the barrier, and into Amelie's hands, which took it into them without her instructing them to do so.
She turned her back on the light, looking into her hands, the gift pulsing through her, and shining forth against the darkness.
The oval pen lay in front of her, and yet she stood outside of it. Its oval tip lay shattered, pointing to where she now stood, and pieces of the white debris melted into the unsure ground of the place. She paced back into her familiar grass, the dome cracking and falling in shards and snow. She stood in her field of blue grass, and with white hot hands she grasped and shaped the air itself.
Her mind now flurried even as her hands moved with the dreaming precision. Creatures, objects, plants all moved within the catalogue of wistful creations. With the shards still raining softly around her and her pen disintegrating, she began her shaping.
She created a little mouse, her hands weaving the wind clay with more ease than her mother at the loom. She thought of how to make the mouse more fanciful, more pleasing, something fun, something necessary. Like her, a mock child carved from surreal clay, the solid figure of the mouse filled her palms with its girth.
She smiled, looking at her silly creation, and brushed its nose lightly with her thumb. Perhaps trees, flowers, insects?
"PLAY, FLUTEPLAYER!" The rumbling growl awoke her from her long darkness. She remembered things in the dreaming, things like the little mouse, she remembered her hands moving, yet the memory of all but the first construct faded away.
"THIS IS RIDICULOUS." The voice roared again, it was like some dog snarling in vicious rage, yet deeper, more significant. The sound of impatient pacing began, paws thudding against muting carpet.
"Not until she has awoken." The crackling voice of her small guardian replied with a surly defiance. She couldn't help but smile. He was alright, and so was she. The pain from her arms had vanished, she moved her thumbs slowly against her fingers, they moved with ease, the skin was there again.
"Two days like this." The voice was a low, threatening growl. "Two days of this farce. The forest encroaches by the pace of some tireless walking man, these flowers, these leaves, are paced as if seasons have no jurisdiction, and THESE!" There was a snapping sound, a bellowed rage.
"Leave them be." The boy's voice lowered with a threatened order. "Calm yourself, relax. It won't be long now." There was a snorting growl, then the sound of a great mass twirling around, then resting finally.
Amelie opened her eyes, and rose suddenly. She calculated her direction to the sound of the slumping wolf, and managed to make the huge creature leap to its feet in surprise, bearing his fangs in rage. She half wanted to scream "surprise" or some other foolishness, yet kept it to herself.
The young man chuckled. "You are too high strung, even now, old man."
The great wolf gave a snorting sound, then stepped towards her. The young man raised a strange spiked club, blocking the wolf from further encroachment. "That's enough, Wolf." He commanded. "She is with us now, and you will consider her under my protection."
"I will." The creature growled, yet was resolute. He twirled once more and lay down in the grass.
Her blue grass from the dream world, still bladed and vibrant, trembled in the soft breeze of the physical world. It was joined now by trees, and colourful spatterings of flowers in the field. The scent of a springtime forest hung with thick and sweet pollen, the chattering of little creatures filled the shivering treetops above.
"I am Kechua." The young man offered his hand in greeting. He bore the deep pigment of a native, and was well muscled. His hair was long, and black, dangling neatly towards the earth below.
"You are better now?" He smiled broadly. There was a warmth about him, a comforting air, and a strength that banished any fear she might have felt for the silly dog not ten feet away from her.
"I am, thank you." She smiled, looking into his eyes. "I'm Amelie." She gazed around them, at the thickened forest where they sat. The canopy filtered light down onto them, the long trailing leaves of willows swayed lazily in the wind. "Is it over? Is it back to normal?" She looked at the young man, hopeful.
"No. I'm afraid not." He smiled. "I have something to show you, but first I believe Wolf's complaints need to be addressed."
She looked over at Kokopelli, who had presented himself at her right. He looked as shagged an unkempt as he had the first time they met. His eyes were open again, deeply glowing red, speckled with white embers. His ears had regained their old foolish lop, his fur no longer spotted with blood.
She scooped him up, holding him aloft towards the sky. "I'm so glad you're alright!" She exclaimed, giving him a hug, which he squirmed out of, landing upon the ground beside her again.
"I was worried this time, I really was." He said, his tone something she hadn’t heard from him. "Foolish concern, of course.”
"Play..." Grumbled the great wolf. Apparently intent on taunting the great beast, vines had crept up, growing to cover and irritate him.
"Please do." Amelie smiled.
"I will." Kokopelli nodded finally.
He leaned forward, his shoulders flexing and shifting strangely. Slowly, but surely, the little creature made movements, here and there, his form grew, and changed. Before her stood the form of a man, his skin a darker hue than Kechua's. He was hunched over, his face obstructed under the furred head of the hide of a once great cat. White hair, unkempt and messy, spilled out from the hood, dangling well past his chest, and seemed to intermingle with the ragged fur of the pelt.
He produced a flute, seemingly from nowhere, and raised it to his lips, darkened silhouettes. The flute was beautiful, like deepened red mahogany, larger than an oboe, yet absolutely simplistic in its design. His fingers moved across the holes, his chest heaved, and music erupted from the air, from the earth.
It was the same song she had heard, only stronger, more profound this time. She let her mind move, sway with what the music itself was. It started with a low bass tone, rumbling in the earth, shaking dirt beneath the roots of the forested floor. The song played on, raising finally to a twinkling height. She closed her eyes, focusing on the wind, the strange ethereal drafts coming from the flute.
They conveyed stories through the drafts, intermingled with the notes.
It played on, for minutes, for hours.
The forest was vibrant, growing, renewed life sprang up before her. Tendrilous sprouts grasped at her feet and legs, unchallenged.
The forest grew hot, the sun bearing down. The forest vibrated with life, hidden creatures buzzed in the heat. Flowers bloomed from the vines, insects distributed the pollen between the plants.
The forest changed, its squared leaves fell to the ground, their colours changed. Vibrant blues, reds, yellows, rained from the sky. Seeds shot out, hoping to secure more land for themselves, to carve a niche for further generations.
Winter came, the trees slumbered, the plants withered, or hid beneath the snow. The world was silent, peaceful. This season was most like the Silent Season. It was harsh, unforgiving, yet heralded new hope, new growth, new possibilities.
It was spring once more, sprouts reached up, hoping to bask in the divinity of the sun. Animals scurried anew amongst the trees, life awoke from its slumber.
Finally, the music spoke of the Silent Season itself, the unknowable season. It spoke of gods and devils walking the Earth. Where they touched the earth, it shifted, changing. They fought one another, consuming each other, reshaping the world they walked upon. They died, they bore pain, and moved on.
The song ended, the figure of the Ushers remaining simply faded away, their fates unknown to any but themselves.
Amelie opened her eyes once again, seeing the shape of the old man shaking. It was the motion something akin to a dog, having blissfully wet itself in a lake or stream, shaking the water from its fur. In that motion he seemed to shed his humanity, shrinking down to the size of the small shagged creature she knew.
"That was beautiful." She smiled, looking at him.
He looked up at the sky, filtering through the canopy above. "It's been a long time. A long time." He whispered, his mind in forgotten times.
"Yes. It has." Wolf said with an alien softness. He shared Kokopelli's gaze towards the sky.
A little creature ran into her lap, seemingly appearing from nowhere. "Uh...hello." She smiled at the little white ball of fur.
The thing resembled a mouse, yet was larger. It had a silly fattened girth, like a widened guinea pig. The creature allowed her to scoop it up in her hands, for closer inspection. It had comical ears, pointing upwards, then ending in fanciful flourishing loops. White tufts of hair rose from the ears, standing stiff. The tail was long, lion-ended like a gerbil's, but covered with the same fine, soft white fur that was along the creature's body. The strangest thing about the little creature, were the markings it sported. There was one blue, around the neckline, a yellowed ring around its midsection, a blue ring towards its tail, and a matching blue ring around each of its little pawed feet.
It was the exact thing she had carved in her dream, from the 'prize' Crow had conceded. She was shocked to see it breathing, living before her, with colouring she didn't remember choosing herself.
"Bold little one, this." Kechua said, poking the little creature gently. "There's the matter of them, I guess. I told them to stay away, while you healed. I guess they couldn't wait any longer." He gave a downward glare at the little mouse, who wriggled its whiskers indifferently at his annoyance.
"I suppose you can all come out then." He said, with much annoyance.
A carpet of white seemed to filter in, a swarm of the little creatures who had evidently been in hiding until then emerged from the forest.
"What is all this?" She asked him, shocked.
"You created all this, through the spirit world, while you healed." He made a broad movement indicating them all, and the forest itself.
"
"I understand you, little one." She smiled. "How is it that I can hear you? Do you speak as Kokopelli does?"
"
"There's more." Kechua beamed, standing up. He offered her his hand, and she took it. The bold windmouse who had greeted her skittered up her arm, onto her shoulder, and rode in high comfort.
She followed his lead through the forest, swaying in the wind. The trees were so tall, their trunks thickened with accelerated years. Squared flowers danced upon their vined stems, weeping towards the earth. They broke through the thick forest, into a clearing, her entourage of white following behind her, a flowing train of her dress.
The clearing sported flowers of pure deep blue. Each petal was striped across twice with yellow, and they rose tall, reaching for the sky. The field of flowers framed a perfectly round lake, its far shore barely visible in the distance. She stepped towards the water, mirroring the beauty of the clear blue sky in its crystalline waters. The surface was utterly serene, smooth as polished glass.
She shed her shoes, and the now bloodstained socks, and driven by the comforting fragrance rising from the lake, she walked into the water, up to her ankles. A ripple spread outwards in an awakening wave across the glass and the sweet coolness tickled at her feet. She knelt, and dug both her hands under the surface, sampling it, clear and sweet. Moreover, the clinging choking nature seemed entirely absent, the water pulled from her hands rather than soaking into the skin. She watched the droplets fall harmlessly away while her entourage of mice watched in a hesitant halo just behind.
"This is the beginning of your path." Kokopelli's voice sounded behind her, his fur contrasting with the purity of the smaller creatures. "Your fable has begun." He gazed up with a pride that could not be hidden from her.
"Oh." Kechua chuckled, the little creature upon her shoulder had chittered something to him, something she hadn't heard. "You'll love this, I’m sure."
She stepped out of the water, towards the young man.
"Come, bold one, show her how else you reflect your Lady." He grinned, extending an arm out. He had backed away, twenty paces, and was surrounded by the white carpet.
There was a sudden ruffle, the mouse's weight shifted on her shoulder, as it launched itself into the air. It glided smoothly, pouches extended, riding upon the stilled wind, and landed neatly upon Kechua's hand.
Amelie was shocked and delighted. Her eyes opened with joy, and to her further elation the mouse launched itself from Kechua's raised hand, gliding back to her, landing back upon the shoulder it had left moments before.
She laughed, falling to her knees, then laying on her back in the field of flowers, surrounded by her little legion of mice. She listened to the lapping of the lake, seemingly brought to life by her touch, and stared up at the clarity of the new sky above. It was all so surreal and dreamlike, and yet too tangible to be mere fantasy, to only be illusion.
She lay there, at ease, basking in the moment of perfect, delusional joy.
22
New Dawn
Amelie soared through the air, riding the wind as freely as she ever had before the great season of silence had begun. Yet the experience no longer blanked her mind, no longer simply served as an escape from the earth below. All the world was her playground now, all the world breathed with untamed air.
Kechua’s offer was a simple one, but not a declaration or demand. He hoped they would travel together, and in doing so they could walk the soil and better meet the demands placed upon them. With both their formative tests behind them, it fell to them to help those in need, both natural and supernatural.
She had paused at that thought, having only recently come to decide her own way, but came to agree at least in the temporary. The prospect of going forth, not in the chaotic and random drifting upon the winds of change, but in a controlled and directed way, seemed a great blessing indeed.
She had, however, declared that she needed to say goodbye to the people who she had met, and known, but would be thrilled to introduce them all to him.
Driven by shyness or disinterest or something else he had refused, and now she followed her detour without him but most certainly not alone.
Flying in freedom to scout the wastes gave no wonderful new insight, and yet the picture below sprung with hope. Old forests of skeletal trees still stood bare of foliage, still sleeping intently, but here and there, and especially among the darkened footpaths that now traced the ground, lines of green dotted the landscape. She spotted at least two rivers without a great deal of trying as well, both of them piercing through stretching carpets of foliage.
The houses still sat in sullen ruin, but from so many of them bore the stomped traces of humans scurrying to and fro. Often greenery of sorts pierced around and inside the house’s sleeping squares.
Most notably however, at certain points the footpaths met up and flowed like water into arterial roads. She even spotted a group of moving dots below, but reluctantly continued without visiting, being driven by her mission.
She had never seen the house from the air of course, but knew the fence, the barn, the jutting building beyond. Yet even knowing this she had descended three times thinking the skeletal house dotted with plant life would be her goal, and three times she rose again in disappointment.
The fourth cluster of such houses revealed a telling sign. The patch of green was immense, and within it was the whole roof of a large house, bordered by a thin white line. The greenery was so intense that she had mistaken it for a forest, or an orchard below, but the jutting of the ancient barn gave her further clue and confidence that she had found her target.
She lowered herself in the sky, spiraling downwards with a lazy pace. She recognized pieces of the whitened front gate, the ramshackle back fence. The shapes of the two brooding trees bracketed a path leading through the gate.
