Ch:10 Tragedy in the First Act

Mikkel had been taking a midnight soak and heard the feral scream. He was the first besides Shai, to realize it was one of them whose lungs had shivered out that dreadful note.

Camp dissolved around them, their objects thudding to the earth as they struggled into clothes and boots. Shai heard a faint crashing through the brush growing more distant and chivvied them on, “Me boy is gripped in some mushroom dream! Move ye sluggards, Im Fer chasin nae waitin, catch us an ye can.” She dashed into the darkness in boots and swords, not much else.

They caught up as she was fording a steam trying to pick up his trail in the darkness. Otho took the lead, tail out straight to show that good boys know when things are serious.

As the sun rose the tired band could follow easily, bloody footprints and drips led the way across the arid stony hills. In a canyon, where a spring tumbled from the rock wall stood a simple stone and plaster cabin. No smoke rose from the chimney, and the door swung loose in the faint breeze with an air of utter desolation. Bloody footprints and mud smeared the humble stone steps to the porch.

The footprints led through the cabin, into the hillside and ended in a study with plaster walls covered with arcane scribbles to about five feet up. While the rest stood and scanned the room Shai said “Open tha door ye goon.” to Tallum. “What door?” the huge man asked. She pushed past her mountain of a brother… cousin, whatever, and disappeared as though she had never been.

Tallum began poking about in a panic and found a door by touch, swinging ajar. “Invisible door.” He called, halfway through himself.

Inside it was oddly well lit for a natural cavern, the light came from no detectable source at all, it was everywhere, so was the music. Sweet and percussive, water dripping onto stone in great thumping plonks and tinkling sprays. Trickles and gurgles with the sighing of slowly moving air. It almost didn't have words.

History shows again and again

How nature points out the folly

Of man!

History shows again and again

How nature points out the folly

Of man!

Again and again the voice was a soft croak, barely audible after the hours they had chased him. Losing his horrible chant early on, only to find it still bubbling from split and cracked lips was ghastly.

“Don't let anyone be touching the contraption in the middle o the room.” she said. “It looks tricksey.” She was close to the huddled and ragged form in the corner, not daring to touch him and interrupt his dreadful chant.

History shows again and again

How nature points out the folly

Of man!

“Hello, I assume you know this boy” Gary’s mouth said, while the chant also continued at the same time. “He is not at home right now so I'm taking the opportunity to pull the strings for a while.” The insane chant continued unabated.

She sat and stared at the creature for a moment. “You are nae Gary. Whae be ye?”

“Ok. not much time so here we go, this boy is slowly turning to goo, brains first. There's like two hundred years worth of music stuffed in here so its already a bit of a mess” The figure turned its head slowly with jerky motions.

“There are wounds in this boy's soul that match up with the etheric veil apertures attached to his soul. Things are knocking on the door and would like to please come in. they would really like to come in. Can you hear them knock knock knooooooocking? Are you on the list? Do you have a plus one? Knock knock.”

It blinked Gary’s eyes very slowly and deliberately. “Sorry, interference. So he won't let anyone into the party unless they are on the list. That includes me, so I'm kinda stuck till someone opens the door one way or another… but if someone who is on the list were to open the door I could go out and he could come in, in, in. I really wish he would let me in.”

Tallum leaned in, “Do you understand this?”

She snarled “Close yer yawp.” Before turning back to this unfamiliar creature. “So what be ye? Daemon? Fae? Outsider?”

It grinned hideously with a face still contorted by the ongoing chant. “Undead actually. It's the knocking you see, keeps me up. Can't sleep, so the boy gets nightmares. Then when I do sleeeep sleep… knocking. I can’t let them in, they can't let me out.” It shuddered a little.

“I’m gonna poke him awake. Leave him here, keep him alive, write down whatever he says. Tell Amicus Zygnos is doing ok.”

Gary gasped in shock as though plunged into ice cold water.

“ooo “ he said weakly. “Did I come unwound again?”

“Aye tis a tangled skein but nae past re winding. Lie still an Tawny be here anon. Go fetch her in Tallum, an mark where the door be an all.”

He smiled in ghastly imitation of himself. “This is the place where the music never stops. Can you hear? I really like the lyrics. I'm sleepy.” After a huge yawn he said, “I have a little cabin near here. There's a cave where the stones sing about the door to another place, the neighbors seem friendly… but I dunno.” and he was snoring softly. Somehow, ever so faintly she could still hear the chant.

History shows again and again

How nature points out the folly

Of man!

Gary woke in the musical cavern, lying beside Shai on the bare wooden floor. On instinct he pulled the bed roll from his Pockets! and covered them both. He could still feel Shai’s influence in his house, like a comforting presence, familiar and welcome. He smiled as he drifted back to normal restful sleep wondering idly why he could feel her in his home, since it was back inside him.

He woke when Shai slipped away, he heard the door close softly leaving the music of the cave as his only companion. Someone had tried hard to clean him up, but he felt sticky, gross and unbalanced inside.

Slipping out into the other room he found little in Z’s lab, just the notes on the wall, an empty table and bookshelves and a battered lantern still faintly warm. The only light came from the open door to the cabin. He could hear the voices of a few friends outside and he went to join them.

“Sorry Guys, those spores really do suck ass. I was tripping balls.”

The small group scattered around the cabin looked ragged, tired and cranky. “It's awake!” Mikkel called, looking up from where he was making stew at the hearth, in Tallum’s helmet.

Shai came bolting back in, armor half buckled on and her pants askew. “Foolish boy!” was all he heard before she grabbed him and shoved his face into her bosom.

“The armor kinda ruins the effect, Shai.” He rubbed his face trying to remove the marks of her metal rings.

Liam called out from the porch. “Before you pass out again, how about unloading our baggage” He looked over the tired and dirty band. “We each carry a day’s supplies and our necessaries, going forward.”

Mikkel looked perfectly happy at the hearth, he nodded sagely. “A change of shorts, a little dried food and a bar of soap make a traveling Adventurer’s life easier.”

Gary waved another apology and went out to set up. He built the whole house, workshop, storefront and all out of a need for familiar surroundings and a “real” bed.

“Well I’ll be..” Mikkel said behind him. “They kept saying there was a shopfront built among old Shrafer’s olive trees by magic and disappeared one night…” He wandered into the shop looking over the wares. Cups, plates, forks, spoons and chopsticks from simple to highly decorated, lined shelves in one corner and a rack of artfully carved pipes sat on the counter. “Nice work, I need a new pipe…

“Go ahead, grab one. I made them as giveaways with an instrument purchase.” He took one with brass bees inlaid on the stem and a bowl carved to look like a stylized beehive.

Puffing experimentally he grinned and began filling the bowl. “An experienced Adventurer carries a light too…” He winked at Gary. “but even experienced Adventurers can lose things in half dressed flight through the darkness..”

“Puff on it three times quickly, master Mikkel. You might be surprised, inexperienced Adventurers enjoy the little comforts too.” He said as his friends streamed into the home, gleefully headed for the baths. “Let's get our shit together.”

Three quick puffs and Mikel’s new pipe was smoking gently, sending a sweet smell through the steamy air. They all floated, exhausted and drained for the remainder of that afternoon and evening. Shai was never more than a few feet from him, keeping within reach at all times.

When they settled into bed, her arms around him were fierce. “I’m not going anywhere Shai.” He whispered “It was just a mushroom nightmare, I’m right here.”

“Nae, twas nae just mushroom poison, Tell boy, whae does this mean?”

A paper lantern appeared over her shoulder, illuminating her tiny notebook, she passed it to him, opened to a page in her neat girly writing.

History shows again and again

How nature points out the folly

Of man

“Blue Oyster Cult. classic rock, ‘Godzilla’ is the track. Did I sing it while I was tripping?

She peered into his eyes closely. “Dinnae ye remember?”

The paper lantern grew dragonfly wings and flew off to a corner, clinging to the wall, making a soft light in the room. “Shai, how did you do that?”

“Dae what? Dinnae distract me boy, ye were chanting those lines an ye did speak in another voice, Nae yours, whilst still did the chant come burbling out.” Her gaze got sharp and hard. “An that one did say things twere in me mushroom nightmare, knowing what I dreamed of ye an all.”

A slow grin spread across his face. “So… you dreamed of me.” he stretched languidly, running one hand sensuously over his body. “All this will haunt your dreams baby, but the reality is right here” He said breathily.

“Tawny did warn me, an I nae did listen, Tis a great fool whae nae listen tae good advice frae a friend.” She hugged him closer, “She did tell me tae keep ye close an nae let ye run away.”

“That still doesn't tell me how you did that.”

She wiggled closer still. “Whae did I do ye great fool?” She whispered.

“The lamp Shai. The lamp.” With a soft murmur of pleasure she snuggled into his shoulder and the lamp flicked out.

In the morning, Tallum and Ivy were making breakfast in the kitchen, Liam was in the shop playing around with a ukulele while Tawny was watching him with an amused expression. Mikkel was floating in the pool and looking content.

Shai stretched against him and whispered so softly; “Tis good tae have a full home, an only needs some wee bairns tae make a proper life. Nae more than three.” He gave a gentle squeeze in reply. “Aye, mayhap four.”

It took a fair few minutes for that offhand remark to hit him in the brain zone. After struggling with it for entirely too long, he gave up and just decided it was too late.

They rose after a long comfortable snuggle and went downstairs to start the day. Mikkel was out of the pool and with the Bathers for breakfast, discussing their plans.

“We've gone off course a good bit, nothing this far out is a threat to town so we are angling back onto our original route. We have a half day’s march ahead, everyone fit to travel?” he asked eyeballing Gary.

“I have a promise to keep, can we stay here til after lunch?” shrugs all around settled the matter. Gary gathered a few things in the workshop and headed out the door with a wave to his friends, Shai softly chiming as she walked beside him.

They roamed the hillsides chatting of small things, crafts and friends, while Gary touched boulders and rock faces, paused for a moment and moved on.

“Whae do we be looking for?”

He smiled and said, “I need to make a gravestone for Z, I promised.” He reached out and took her hand, she twirled into his arms with a musical run of tinkling chimes. “We are different now you know…” He whispered. “Everything is different, or are you still pretending you don't know?” He unclasped her and wandered off to tickle a likely looking boulder. “Oh nice, This one! Black basalt, snowflake patterned inclusions of fluorite maybe?”

A leather roll of tools and a good sized sledgehammer appeared from his Pockets! and he got to work. In a short time, the boulder was little more than a scattering of loose stone chips and a few larger fragments. The stone was in rough slabs securely stowed in his storage.

“I dinnae like disturbing any at their crafts boy… an ye nae tell me what ye did mean by ‘still pretending you don’t know’ ye great fool” Her finger quotes were excessive and agitated and her parody of his accent was hilarious. “Ye may find That sweet Shai hae the craft of splitting yer stone head, boy!”

“Sweetie, darling Shai, what is Otho the dog up to right now?”

She blinked and answered. “He hae found the stash o bones ye did hide o’er yer workbench. Ye need tae get more frae the tanner. There be none unchewed.” She looked up at him, puzzled, “ye did ken that, tis yer house.”

He draped his arms back around her and gave a gentle spin, pointing over her shoulder from behind to their home on the hillside a half mile away.

Softly in her ear, he breathed, “How did you know that, or create that lamp last night?”

Enclosed in his arms, looking over their little home, she nodded. “Aye, even a great fool may see when the sun do shine bright, come boy we’re fer home, ye’ve some stone tae cut.”

Ivy was in the kitchen petting Otho, who was still munching on Gary’s former instrument components. Tawny and Tallum were making lunch, Liam was really making an effort on his ukulele by the fire. Gary conjured a softly ticking metronome at his elbow and grinned. “You are on your way brother!” He hollered at Tallum “You are learning guitar… ok. You are learning the bass.” He shook his head. “Giant ox for a front man. Need a drummer now.”

Down in the workshop things had changed. Gary’s portable forge was now folded up and stowed in the corner, with an almost exact copy of Shai’s workspace at Harlan’s forge, save that the river stones of the forge were all painted in bright cheery colors and the place smelled like Shai.

She twirled through the space, her workman's pants and apron doing nothing to dampen the sexy marvel of her. “Aye, tis much less dismal now, I did wonder why yer shop were drab, it be that ye are a man wi nae thoughts in yer head.”

With a satisfied nod from her, his woodworking tools were now in bright primary colors, decorated with garlands of painted flowers. The shuttered windows flew open letting the breeze in to play. “Get ye tae work, an I may attend tae yer oversights upstairs ye great clod.”

Gary placed Z’s stone just before the meal was ready, the Bathers and Mikkel gathering over the low grassy mound while he seated it in place. “I guess I should say something… Zygnos gave me as much help as he thought he could, I owe him for that. So thanks Z, I will see you when I see you.”

The wind drew in closer and clouds loomed as the Bathers marched west by northwest in the lengthening shadows, they paused on a bluff over the river to rest for the night.

Mikkel still watched in rapt attention as Gary and Shai danced their home into being on the windy outcropping. But then so did the others, everyone watched when Shai danced.

Sturdy riverstone walls, iron bound doors and shutters and a high peaked, red tiled roof were all there. Now, window boxes held cheery flowers and vines on the upper stories, trailing vibrant leaves and flowers over plaster and timber walls painted in rich hues of the forest.

Colorful lanterns illuminated the courtyard, now just a garden with the bathing pool integrated in. Gary’s prudish garden wall was demolished without a trace.

“Very nice Gary, much less ‘forbidden castle in the badlands’. Liam approved. Tawny clapped her hands in a girlish display of delight that was rare in her. Or perhaps not… Gary was beginning to wonder. Ivy and Tallum just moseyed inside, they were neither one great overland hikers and had been ready to stop for a couple hours.

“See, ye primitive clod, an ye build a house, tis needful tae make it a home ere it's fit fer livin in. Tis the family, nae the look o things, that makes the magic work.” She boxed his ears gently.

“Aye tis a grave matter now corrected, giving a man the making of a home. As well ask a sheep tae weave a shawl. He has the wool but nae the craft.” She said, as they settled into the bath.

“You’re taking this surprisingly well.”He said in her ear, nibbling just a little.

“Whae? Moving in tae this place? Or making it fit fer woman and beast tae live in?” She rested her head on his chest and sighed. “I did nae mean tae barge in, tis cause fer worry an shame on my part. An ye nae welcome me in so, twould be nae so easy ye great lump.” She turned a little and bit his cheek playfully. “We hae much to do, ere we be ready tae quench this working, though there be room at the forge tae work other tasks as well.”

“Like what,” he asked, sensing mischief. “Ye nae be from here, an ye do not know…” she took him into their room to tell the tale in private.

Once upon a time, in a small, orderly and prosperous town, far from anyplace too important, in a time when nothing drastic was happening, two children were born, minutes apart, mere steps distant from each other. The midwives say that their shared cries were the first sound either ever heard.

One child, a girl, was golden from head to toe, golden hair, golden skin, eyes of hazel golden green and a cry of burnished brass ringing out in night.

The other, a strong and healthy boy with a shock of black hair and wide set dark eyes cried once and fell silent. “Praised be the gods.” whispered his father as he held his son, for the boy’s mother was lost in the birth.

Wise and kind, the midwife took the boy from his heartsick father and went to where her sister still labored, easing the birth in the house next door. They spoke, softly and eased the dark haired boy into the exhausted new mothers arms with her own, now quietly gurgling child.

So the two grew together, the boy, raised by his stern, loving father, whose grief found solace in his duties to the god War and a wetnurse from the poor quarters, as is proper in polite society.

The girl, golden and cheerful and the boy, quiet and gentle, played together, unaware beyond that they were as close as two can be. Though the bond forged at the moment of their almost shared birth grew only stronger.

In the summer of their fifth year the golden girl was sealed to the service of Healer, her parents being clergy of beloved Dana. Wonder and joy spread across the girl, radiant with the light of a vocation received in joy.

At autumn’s start the boy went to temple and received his bond to War, fierce protector of man. The poor lad wept silent tears of rage for a week, days and nights, til the ancient priestess of Healer bestirred herself to look at the boy.

“There is no illness in the boy,” She told the father. “War is not his heart's avocation. There is no balm for him but will and the courage to endure.”

Now doubly heartsick, the boy’s father threw himself into his duties, leaving his child in the care of nannies and tutors. And still the two were together, dark and gold side by side.

In their seventh year the boy’s father fell, lost in battle against a nameless beast on a nameless mountain. The commandments of War are clear, orphans of War are always War’s property. So to the orphanage he went. To endure.

In their tenth year the golden girl was bound again to Healer, growing that bond, but shattering another. For though Healer is love and light made manifest, she cannot abide the touch of War.

When next the dark boy’s hand held the golden girl’s, his touch made the flesh of her whole body burn and crawl. His scent was as blood and misery to her and his voice became the brazen call of War himself.

It was an old story, one repeated in almost every generation in almost the same way.

Old women now tell the story to young parents before they bond their children to the gods, lest their own sons and daughters weep.

.

Gary sat stunned. “So…”

“Aye, fer their whole lives.”

“and they can't…”

“Nae, not fer their whole lives.” She shook her head in sorrow. “The tawny I did know growing up, she had nae sorrow or grief about her, nor could it survive in her presence. Now tis a cloak she drapes herself in ere she leaves her door.” She tutted.

“Poor Liam though, tae be bound tae blood drenched War, an his heart did always belong tae Healer. Tis a garden of sorrow, and a terrible harvest be coming in soon.”

“What happens if he gets all his Contracts filled by War?”

She looked terribly sad. “Then the Liam we do know be all but dead, naught left but an angry man wi fury in his heart tae give. Naught else.” She sighed “Tis as Otho said, an a person be suited fer war, tis a mighty hero and defender of the lands of men in the making. An war be ill suited, tis sorrow and grief fer all around.”

“And if he can negotiate his own Contracts?” He asked desperately hoping for clarity. “An he can Contract wi some other gods or spirits, War’s hold be lessened, diluted, mayhap contained. Tis his hope and hers. Even can he never be hers, she does hope yet to ease his path of sorrows.”

“You like to complain that I only know sad songs, Shai…” Gary said, getting up and shooing her from their bedroom. “Get the gang into the kitchen, find out when dinner is gonna be ready, I have work to do, woman.”

When dinner was ready, Gary appeared as if by magic, draped in an ominous gray cloak from head to toe. He silently motioned them to gather in the garden, as the meal vanished from the table when their heads were turned.

Under an awning spangled with paper lanterns in the shapes of constellations, their food was laid out. Rugs of vibrant colors and pillows who’s jewel-like hues competed with the flowers nodding in the garden were clustered around. Cries of “lovely!” and “Ohh” surrounded Shai's proud declaration. “Mayhap he does learn an all.”

In the corner, near the waterfall feeding the bath, was a single stool. While the Bathers settled in to eat, Gary left Shai’s side and settled in on the stool. Obstinately she took a pillow, conjured her own rug and made herself at home beside him.

The gray cloak blew away in an eldritch breeze, revealing Gary, clad all in gleaming white from collar to cuffs, save for exotic corals and fish beaded and embroidered at his trouser cuffs and pockets and abalone buttons on his coat. He gleamed in the lights and his guitar appeared in his hands.

A strange pole appeared in front of him with a lump on the end, which he spoke into. “Welcome to the Bathtime Yacht Club speakeasy, I will be robbing Django Rinehard all evening, so enjoy.”

His voice came from all around, as if he was hiding behind every bush and stone. So too did his guitar, bouncing around in minor keys and making light of the rain that began to drum on the awning above.

Pipes were passed around, Mikkel discovering that Liam was a talented herb gardener in his own right. “It's the garden,” Liam confided. “The magic of the bath is ridiculous.”

Mikkel grumbled. “I lived in a leaky tent that smelled like wet donkey for months at a time when I was an Adventurer. You kids are missing out on some real personal growth potential, you should fire this Gary kid,” He leaned back on a pillow, with a slice of grenadier pear at his lips. “I’ll put him to work.”

Before long Shai was on her feet and twirling to french wartime jazz. As any fool could predict, it was not long before the others were attempting to keep up with her spinning, leaping hips. Mikkel had his own style of improvisational dance, mostly thumping his peg leg in time while roaming the dance floor, providing an obstacle for the dancers to whirl around.

Neither Gary nor Shai used their gifts to influence the pair, Tawny and Liam just happened to be dance partners throughout the evening. Collapsing to cushions together, breathless while Shai continued to spin. The pair were sitting close and deep in conversation when Gary and Shai retired.

A rainy night with good food and good friends was a powerful balm, as Gary and Shai curled up together to listen to the weather fuss and complain about their snug, sturdy home. “I miss the ocean…” Gary whispered as he drifted away.