In the Grip of Time

by Adam Jacob Burgess

  Rhyddinas was a city of two poles. The South of the city had been battered during the Rhyddinian rebellion, whereas the North had remained largely intact. The grand churches, monuments and museums of the North were deemed too important by both the reigning Pompeuxi and the rebelling Rhyddinians, which was one of the reasons the North had a (somewhat unfair) reputation for being more cultured than the South. Before the revolution the South had been home to the landed gentry, and with that had come large houses with much land. Following the establishment of the free republic of Rhyddinas, people had moved onto this land with tents and caravans.

  Wheezing and sweating, Sawwse stood outside the entrance to Fifty-four Salthaz Lane. Many such sloping lanes were tucked away behind the stone-built structures found in Northern Rhyddinas. This particular lane was named after Salthazar, an alchemist, revered for creating a sleeping draft, which was especially popular in the Carnivale-celebrating South.

  The house was tall and thin, patterned with deep green tiles. A large ornate knocker shaped like a lyre was attached to a simple wooden door. Sawwse stared up at the lyre, unsure whether to play it or knock it.

  She had just leapt up and grabbed it when the door swung inwards, dragging her into the house. A small boy, holding a recorder and flanked by his parents, stood crying in the doorway. The parents shot Sawwse a sour look, before thrusting their son out onto the lane and stomping past themselves. There was no one there to greet Sawwse, so she tentatively stepped forward into the house.

  She realised at once that many of the items from the Conservatoire had ended up back in Con Duco’s residence. The dark wood antique furniture and most of the floor were buried under piles of notes and musical instruments. Sawwse could hear a voice coming from the top of a steep thin staircase. Con Duco leant his mostly-bald head out, finishing his train of thought, ‘...hundreds and hundreds of instruments, but no, let’s all choose the recorder, could at least have the decency to play it well. Ah, Ms. Bohge, do come upstairs.’

  The staircase led to a spacious room. A grand piano sat underneath a huge window, which took up most of the space on the opposite wall. Sawwse wandered over and saw that it overlooked a large square lined with small cafés.

  Noticing her gazing out of the window, the panda-faced man said, ‘I am sometimes obliged to give concerts from this room. Some of my more talented students have also performed here.’

  The gnome smiled absent-mindedly, now picturing herself performing Elven operas and Dwarven symphonies to a crowd of thousands.

  ‘I’ll bring us some tea. When you’re ready, do take a seat.’

  ‘Wait. I should, uh, let you know something,’ Sawwse said, awkwardly. ‘I don’t quite have the tuition fee-’

  ‘Oh, well, you’re here now,’ Con Duco said with a shrug as he left the room. ‘I’ll fetch the tea.’

  ‘There must have been a kitchen buried somewhere beneath those papers,’ Sawwse thought as she watched Con Duco walk downstairs. There were no seats in the room, so she sat cross-legged on the dark herringbone floor.

  When he returned, Con Duco carried a lime teapot with two mugs, and set them in front of Sawwse. He sat down opposite her and poured the tea.

  ‘This is Shi’areth tea, a fine tea from the Southern continent.’

  Sawwse brought the mug to her lips, but was halted before she’d taken a sip.

  ‘Bring it to your nose, not your lips.’

  She withheld the temptation to splash her nose with tea and instead lifted the mug to her nose. Sawwse instantly took in a strange mixture of fruits and flowers: there were roses and lavender, oranges and lemons, peaches and fuchsia. The smells were each distinct from one another, but after a few moments the smell of peaches lingered as the others faded away. Con Duco nodded approvingly.

  ‘Ah peach, a tasty choice. Shi’areth tea reacts to your nasal receptors. Whichever flavour your nose responds to, the tea brews accordingly.’

  She took a sip of the tea and felt as though she had just bitten into a particularly juicy peach.

  ‘Delicious,’ Sawwse sighed.

  ‘Indeed. There is much power in reflexivity.’

  Con Duco took a sip of his tea.

  ‘Mmm, lemon rose. There are many delicious teas, but that is not enough in Shi’areth. The same is true of music. One could be the most talented musician in the world, but that is as nothing without the ability to respond to an audience, a feeling, an atmosphere. Too many students believe they can become great by rote-learning. Yes, they will know the syntax, but what great art needs is semantics.’

  Sawwse regretted not bringing something to write with. She had imagined her first lesson going back over the basics she’d learnt from the Flowerdew texts. As if reading her mind, Con Duco said, ‘You do not need to make notes.’

  ‘I brought my instruments, but perhaps I won’t need them?’

  ‘Perhaps. First, I’d like you to focus.’

  Con Duco stood and walked to the piano. He opened the lid and sat down.

  ‘Close your eyes, Ms. Bohge, and try to clear your mind.’

  Sawwse shut her eyes. Her mind immediately crowded with images, jumping from one thing to the next. There was the skull-like visage of Alla’fyr, the idol in her grasp. A shift and she was back in the Blue Forest, being taunted by the other gnomes. Another shift and she imagined Marius’ upset face.

  DUNNNNNNNNN.

  The gnome opened her eyes wide at the sound, bolt upright.

  ‘Did I not say to clear your mind?’

  Con Duco’s fingers were resting on the central keys of the piano.

  ‘You said to try to,’ Sawwse muttered under her breath, whipped to irreverence by his tone.

  ‘Well, try again.’

  She closed her eyes again. This time her mind meandered away from the room and back to the first time she had played music for anyone. Within a little grove, she had gathered a few fellow gnomelings and asked their guardians to join them. Playing the lute that she had inherited from the parents she’d never met, she had performed a wistful song about a gnome who fell in love with a ghost. The whole group had burst into laughter, thinking it an elaborate prank. She’d been so upset by the ordeal that she didn’t touch another instrument for a long time.

  DUN DUNNNNNNNNN.

  ‘You are not trying.’

  Con Duco lightly brushed the piano’s keys with the top side of his fingers, a practised habit which had led to the slightly worn look of the ivory.

  ‘Alright, some assistance. Focus on the note.’

  Con Duco played the same note again, quieter.

  Dunnnnn.

  Sawwse tried to keep her mind attuned to the note.

  Dunnnnn.

  Con Duco repeated the note again and again while Sawwse focussed.

  Dunnnnn. Dunnnnn. Dunnnnn.

  She pictured a clear black lake. The repeated note formed a series of ripples on the water. Now detached from the room, she heard the disembodied voice of Con Duco.

  ‘Good. I’m going to channel an emotion and I want you to feel it.’

  Sawwse didn’t understand, but didn’t question it either. She kept focussing on the ripples, while the note continued to play.

  Dunnnnn. Dunnnnn. Dunnnnn.

  The subtlest change began to show itself in the ripples. The expanding circles became tinged with something that wasn’t a colour or another shape, but something beyond its materiality. Sawwse didn’t know how, but she felt sadness within the notes.

  ‘You’re upset about something.’

  ‘Very good,’ Con Duco replied. ‘Now you sing the note and we’ll try something similar.’ He continued to play the note as a guide for Sawwse, until she was ready to take over.

  Dunnnnn. Dunnnnn.

  She breathed in deeply and then sang at the same pitch as the note, repeatedly. The tutor closed the lid of his piano. In her mind, she continued to see the ripples on the black lake. This time, she was in control of them
.

  ‘I’m channelling again. Feel it and respond accordingly,’ said the tutor.

  The black lake and the ripples again did not alter physically, but Sawwse felt a kind of happiness emanating from them. She changed her pitch and began thinking of a happy memory. Sawwse was alone in a secluded part of the forest one evening, practising her singing, when her elderly friend, Dannse Gan, passed by. She was unaware that her friend was there and continued to sing. Dannse, who was much wiser than the average gnome, gave Sawwse warm words of encouragement, the first she had ever received for her music. It inspired her to keep practising and to take back up the lute.

  In the room, Con Duco sat on his piano stool smiling. ‘Raw talent and she learns quickly,’ he thought, his mind becoming frenetic, planning future methods and theories to inscribe on this tabula rasa.

  Sawwse beamed, lost in pleasant memories and the jollity of the tune she now sung.

  ‘Very well Ms. Bohge, you may stop singing.’

  The gnome stopped immediately, and opened her eyes to find Con Duco sat opposite her on the floor once again.

  ‘I think I felt your happiness. The tune began to melt, so I just tried to follow the change,’ mused Sawwse out loud.

  ‘Imbuement.’

  Sawwse looked at her tutor blankly.

  ‘We covered two skills today: Reception and Imbuement. I think you may have some experience already.’

  Con Duco gently rubbed his temples with his forefingers.

  ‘Or your nascent abilities are more advanced than I previously thought.’

  The gnome thought of the soldiers in the tree. She’d put them to sleep with a lullaby. Was this imbuement? She’d wanted to help and had instinctively reached for music, but she hadn’t known what would happen, not really.

  ‘Is this still a music lesson?’ Sawwse wondered out loud.

  ‘Yes of course. You can call this magic, magicke, the hidden art, the secret skill, or many other names, but that isn’t important. What we are engaging in with these lessons is music. Music is the finest communicative art, and we are interested in enhancing it, perfecting it.’

  The gnome nodded.

  ‘Practice reception ahead of our next session,’ Con Duco instructed. ‘Please be careful with this skill and only practice responding to emotions. Do not imbue until we have had a chance to cover this in more detail.’ After seeing Sawwse’s disappointed look, he added, ‘There are numerous things that can go wrong when imbuing. Exhibiting control is as important as the skill itself.’

  After an awkward exchange where Sawwse tried to place an IOU for the tuition fee inside a freshly brewed pot of tea, the first session was over.

  Sawwse dragged her feet all the way back to the guild. She hadn’t realised just how much effort the lesson had taken. Once she returned to the inn, she immediately retired to the dorm room and collapsed into bed. This time, there were no dreams of flaming pits or imps, nor of dukes or dancing bears. Instead, Sawwse closed her eyes and entered a deep, dreamless sleep.

  Chapter 14: Rhinoholm

  The guild’s noticeboard had been hastily erected in the front room of the inn. It was an old cork board, begrudgingly donated by the landlord of The Happy Hearth. It sat beneath the window, which beamed dustmotes into the room. Various pieces of parchment were pinned to it, and others had clearly already been ripped off. On each page were notes scrawled in a spiky, spidery font: quests, pleas for help, jobs.

  Sawwse stood looking at the noticeboard. This was her chance to redeem herself after last time, and to make enough money to pay Con Duco for her lesson.

  ‘I believe these are our opportunities for further adventure,’ Corinne said, speaking from behind the gnome. ‘Or income, I suppose, depending on your perspective.’

  Sawwse browsed the notices:

  ~ Infestation of fire snakes in the Maw of Tolath ~

  ~ Unstoppable dance party needs stopping in Frijsia ~

  ~ Magna-Bitula ravaging the wheat fields near Scar’s Croft ~

  ~ Suspected bandit lair found at Harradan’s Crossing ~

  The gnome’s eyes lit up at the thought of another adventure. Yes, the previous quest had ended with her nearly smashing against the floor, but goodness if she didn’t find it exciting.

  ‘So, where are we all going this time?’

  ‘Well, a couple of our colleagues have already left on hunts,’ Corinne continued. She held her hands face up and two red transparent figures appeared in her palms. They were undetailed, as though crudely moulded from clay, but Sawwse could clearly see that the trainee mage had conjured tiny likenesses of Vadania and Larn striding across a field. They moved swiftly across Corinne’s palms and seemed to be contemplating climbing up into her blouse’s bell-like sleeves. ‘I did offer to accompany them, but was swiftly turned down,’ she said, showing no signs of disappointment. The trainee mage closed her hands and the projections vanished.

  Sawwse turned to face the bar where Osrik and Rangrim sat together, drinking.

  ‘How about you two, shall we venture out together?’ Sawwse asked the two dwarves.

  ‘A roof over my head, hot meals and beer are all I need,’ Osrik answered, smiling weakly.

  Rangrim concurred with a nod and a rosy-cheeked smile.

  ‘Actually,’ Grimiser said, appearing behind the bar, ‘you’re covered for dinner and bed, but drinks are extra.’

  There was a short pause while Osrik and Rangrim digested this information. They sank their drinks and wandered over to the entrance, ripping off a notice each from the board as they did so.

  ‘Take care,’ Osrik muttered at Sawwse. Rangrim hesitated at the door, but then left the inn alongside his fellow dwarf. Sawwse looked around the empty room.

  ‘I didn’t see Ruby upstairs, is she about?’ she asked.

  ‘I believe she left earlier, but we did not exchange words,’ Corinne replied. She paused, and then added with a tentative smile, ‘I’m afraid it’ll be just the two of us.’

  ‘I’m not afraid at all,’ Sawwse boomed. ‘We’ll be brilliant.’

  She slapped Corinne on the arm, smiling widely.

  ‘Perhaps we could run through the adventuring protocol a few times,’ the mage began, rooting around in her bag. ‘Before we set-’

  ‘Sure, we’ll get to that on the road,’ Sawwse said glibly. She closed her eyes and hovered her hand over the noticeboard.

  ‘-before we set off. It’s always good to be prepared and ensure we stick to all the regula-’

  ‘Absolutely,’ the gnome interrupted. ‘How about this one?’

  Sawwse tore off a notice at random and read it aloud.

  ‘“A local chief has requested assistance after their village began walking away. They have promised a financial reward.” Sounds ideal, and it’s only a few hours’ travel from here. Well, at the moment, that is.’

  The musical gnome and the bureaucratic mage paired up and set off on their mission. They headed north from the city and hiked through pleasant countryside for several hours. Corinne had hoped to run through some basic health and safety with Sawwse, but the gnome repeatedly distracted her with silly songs and rhymes.

  They stopped for a break on a bushy mound. Three hills overlooked them in the distance.

  ‘I did think we’d have got to the village by now,’ Corinne sighed. Her stomach made a loud grumbling noise. ‘I fear I was counting on it for my lunch.’

  ‘I’ve got your back,’ Sawwse said. She pulled out some barm cakes from her bag and handed one to the mage. Corinne felt the bap and lifted it to her face, sniffing it.

  ‘Is this from the inn?’ she asked.

  Sawwse smiled and nodded, bread between her teeth.

  ‘But didn’t Grimiser say our boarding only covered main meals?’

  ‘This is dinner, in a way,’ Sawwse said, while chewing. ‘Don’t worry about it, I just pilfered a couple of spares from the kitchen.’

  Corinne grabbed Sawws
e’s bag and felt inside. It was full of bread rolls.

  ‘I’m not even sure when you had the time to-’

  ‘It’s fine. They were going to be thrown away.’

  ‘That’s not the point.’

  ‘Sweet blessed Gnomelord, Corinne, can you-.’

  ‘Look, I know it’s not ‘cool’ to be concerned about this stuff, but it is important-’

  ‘No, not that. The middle hill up ahead. Is it-? It’s moving.’

  Corinne placed her palms flat on the ground. Distant vibrations flowed into her mind’s eye. The little gnome grabbed her colleague’s robe, and with surprising strength, pulled her along as they ran towards the hill.

  It turned out not to be a hill at all, but rather a Rhinoholm: a gigantic, moss-covered rhinoceros. It took several minutes for it to make each step, but when its hoof landed, the earth shook. Sawwse and Corinne sprinted to try and catch up with it, a particularly difficult task for Corinne, who became more disoriented with each reverberating step of the colossus.

  Looking up, they could see what appeared to be a village on top of the rhino: some houses, a small chapel. They could even make out small, scared faces in some of the windows. Further away in the distance, they could see a small lake and another settlement directly in the rhino’s path, on course to be trampled.

  ‘What shall we do?’ Sawwse asked, alarmed. Most landscapes dwarfed her, but most landscapes didn’t move.

  ‘This is why-’ Corinne started.

  Vrrrrrrrr. The ground shook violently, winding her.

  ‘This is why effective planning is needed-’

  Sawwse rolled her eyes. The hoof that landed nearest to them was pockmarked, but the rough, ancient skin of the leg looked to be covered by foliage further up.

  ‘We need to climb it,’ the gnome said.

  ‘Okay, I’ll boost us up to the moss.’

  Corinne placed a hand on Sawwse’s back and muttered something incomprehensible. They shot up together fifty feet into the air and grabbed hold of the moss, just above the back of the rhino’s knee.

  ‘It worked!’ exclaimed the self-taught mage.