Heartfelt Sounds
Page 25
I finish my song—the last verse—my last call. I finish the song as the Void begins to change—as it begins to become beautiful and lively. The beauty springing from my presence—and the collection of souls behind me. The beauty springing from our hearts.
I open my mouth.
As Yarne comes to life in front of me—her leathery face twisted into a dark and callous snarl. Her dress of scarlet satin is ripped and torn as the atmosphere behind her darkens. Grass does not spring to life beneath her feet—but red veins protrude through the gravel she stands upon. The crimson sky above thickens when it hangs over her head. Her hair is a cloud of confusion—a huge knot of mats upon her head.
“You've tricked me.” she snarls, her shoulders rising and falling as every breath comes out as a strangled hiss between her lips. “You were my creation—my puppet. How did you regain your heart? I sent those wraiths in the sand to bring you here—bring you back to me! How have you—,”
I approach her—heart climbing into my throat. I approach her and hold out my hands. “I am nobody's puppet—nobody's tool—anymore. Nor am I the Voice of the East. I am more than my voice, Yarne. As you are—as all of us are. You're more than a titan, mother. You're more than Aeathann.”
“I am all powerful—I am everything! I am the beginning and the end! And just as I've brought you into this world—,”
Grass begins to spring beneath her feet. Between us, a rosebud curls. Green leaves sprout upon it's thorny vine as the red bulb opens to reveal ruby tinted petals. I bend down to pluck it and take it from the earth as the sky above brightens completely with light blue. The crimson clouds roll away, the red lightening to a cottony pink.
I hold the flower between my thumb and index finger. I offer it to her.
“Just as the soil brings everything into being,” I tell her, hand outstretched. “it does not take. It demands nothing, but receives all. When we die, this is where our mortal bodies go. Back to the soil—back to the earth—,”
Yarne approaches me—fingers splayed at her sides as they twitch. “You've grown proud—you're no longer weak and cowardly—but proud. Too proud of your abilities and yourself. I will find another Voice, and I will start again. I will start again, and this Voice—this Voice will be leagues more powerful than you!”
“—back to the Void. Just as the soil brings everything into being, mother…” and I hold my hand out, flowering twirling between my index and thumb. She snatches the plant from me with one quick swipe. She snatches it and grimaces. “…it receives all in gratitude.” I tell her. “Even you, mother. Even the body of a titan.”
A thorn pricks her finger and she bleeds. Yarne stumbles backwards and I watch with a hammering heart as her skin turns three shades darker. It grays—going ashen—as her skin shrivels. As her body shrinks and her skeleton becomes visible beneath the ash of her skin. She looks at me with startled eyes—with frightened eyes. With the eyes of a girl, a very human child. Large eyes that overshadow the deathly pallor of her shriveled face. The body of a thick oak breaks through the grass behind her, long branches sprouting lively white spring flowers before green leaves spring behind the petals. Yarne trips towards this oak and falls, but the oak catches her. The thick trunk cradles her heaving body as she plants her back upon it. Her chest rises and falls, rises and falls so quickly that I'm sure her heart will rip from her chest. When I approach her slowly, she plants her feet in the dirt and tries to push herself away from me with large, trembling, eyes that fill with tears.
I take my place near the oak, placing my back against the tree towards her right. I hear her wheeze. I hear her sigh and cough.
She does not beg—does not plead. She doesn't even speak.
I bring my eyes to the sky as thousands of fretful feet move through the grass. I hear voices gasp. I hear sobbing cries of joy as knees hit the ground and a woman cries out to the Fates in thanks.
“I'll help you through this.” I tell Yarne as she wheezes near me. “But, why?” and I lower my face towards the green grass. “Why did you become Aeathann? Did the titan inhabit you in death? Why—why did you do all of this?”
I wait, listening to the people moving. I hear a child skip through the grass, humming a gentle song. Yarne simply wheezes. Coughs up a breath and heaves.
Why? I want to ask it again—but I feel like I don't have the time. I feel like my time here is almost up, so I decide to do something else.
I decide to help her to whatever place titans go once it's time for them to rest.
I decide to ease her pain with a lullaby.
I decide to sing.
One last time, I decide to sing.
Epilogue
Nyx
I'm always looking at the moon these days. Some nights I count the stars when they're out, sprinkling the night sky like candy. Other nights, when the sky's empty, I stare at the moon and think of them.
Naia, Shanti, Ran—and so many others.
Coming home to the Arden Vale was like a culture shock—everything had changed. The blackened, smog filled, sky of the Vale's Selina City had cleared. Foreign troops occupied the streets like roaches, imposing curfews on street sorceresses and sticking their long noses into establishments that made their money off of magical implements with a hard grimace or a disapproving glare. Sorceress ran businesses eventually closed—leaving the streets empty. The atmosphere had become thick with tension as the magic endowed crowd openly despised the overbearing soldiers with high strung voices that eventually boiled over into physical violence. Picking my way through the new Selina City in search of Shanti's friend was like wandering through a forest that was dying all around me. It was impossible. If I asked for a woman by the name of Bellerose, I got unbridled stares, rickety doors slammed in my face—or worse. Things always got worse. I've had to wipe spittle from my face on occasion, and eventually—I just let it go.
Either Bellerose didn't exist, or she didn't want to be found. Either way, I decided to wait and watch as the world changed. As foreign troops filed out and it became safe again to call yourself a sorceress in the Vale. Rumor had it that the Dawnlord had simply vanished. That he passed the mantle of grand marshal to another one of his generals and fled Felicity in favor of his western territories. Others whisper that he was magicked away from his throne—gone with a gust of night wind as mountains rose around Csilla to hide the desert.
The mountains rising—it was sudden. Everyone—even those that did not believe in the old gods—believed that this—this had to be a sign directly from the Void. The mountains rising—the ground beneath us quaking as Csilla was swallowed whole. Now, if you look out towards the Wish—there's no sea of sand anymore. Jagged peaks of purple envelopes Csilla in, and locks everyone out. Everyone. On the very day those mountains rose, daredevils and thrill seekers vowed to climb these peaks in the hopes of finding out what was on the other side. Of course, they didn't return. But that's the life of a risk-taker, right? Take one too many risks and your soul goes straight to the Void—but at least you left a life of fulfillment. Careful cautiousness leads directly to boredom—but at least you have your life.
It's rumored that the sands beyond that new range of mountains—the, “Throat of the World”, they're calling it—is a sea of crystalline powder. And a stone goddess rises above it all, opening her arms to the world as if to receive each and every one of us.
I imagine that's Naia. When I look up at the night sky and stare at the moon, I imagine she's okay—now that the world's in a better place and titans didn't pour through Heaven's Gate…where-ever that is—I imagine she's fine. I imagine everything's okay.
I've been here for quite some time now, waiting for her to return. The Djinn Arms is my home now, and while my room isn't completely my own, it's still cozy. It still reminds me of Akane's shelter and all of the friends I had there.
I wish I could go back.
But that's a selfish thing, Naia would tell me, totally selfish.
And that brings a smile to my fac
e as I lay here on this tiny bed, staring up at a small window cut into cherrywood planks. Some ways away from me, a fire burns in a miniature fireplace of white brick. Heavily scented wood burns in that fire, lavender filling the room. Looking past the other small bed parallel to my own, I stare into the fire and watch it lick at the fat log centered within its warm embrace.
And I remember a song Naia sang for Chima a long time ago. I can't help but crack a smile as I remember her voice—as I remember Naia's willingness to put her needs aside to help little Chima.
Memories. They make me tear up.
Now, what did she sing? It was always the same song…the same lullaby.
But there was another…another song she didn't sing too often. I can't remember the beginning—but I remember the ending. That feeling of longing and loneliness it's sad end always brought. I think I can…
I look to the door of my shared room and listen to the sound of silence curling from the parlor outside.
It went something like…
If I met you again,
maybe my sadness would fade,
and the fog would disperse.
Floorboards creak and my voice freezes up. I'm no songstress—I can barely hold a note, let alone belt out a whole song without laughing myself silly. I sing through my nose—I know I do. I could never match Naia's voice, but it's fun to pretend. To make believe.
The creaking stops. It's like someone's hovering near my door, listening. My skin prickles and I wait. I wait until the feeling flies away and I let out a heavy sigh as I lower my shoulders, hanging my head in relief.
Nobody heard me—good.
I turn towards the bed, laying my body down but propping my torso up with my elbows. I look out towards the moon.
The world's okay now. Everything's back to the way it was—but not completely. Somehow—somehow it's better.
And I know Naia made it so. I know she's done something. I can—I can just feel it.
Maybe I could finish the song—if I remember—as a tribute to her.
The hero no one else will ever know about. The hero that is mine alone.
I think I can finish it:
If I met you again,
maybe this sky would brighten up,
and the gathering tide would recede…
Tears. Fuck—I hate them. I'm such a child. Such a—
The door barrels open behind me, and slaps the wall with slight snap. I scramble to turn—only to look at the low hanging hood of the wanderer whose been sharing this room with me for about two weeks. I throw myself up to sitting as she quickly closes the door and plants herself there, blocking it with her body.
I've never seen this woman's face—she's always hiding it somehow. She's never even told me her name.
“I heard you from the parlor.” she sharply whispers as she removes herself from the door and approaches her bed. Turning her back towards me, she throws her cloak off only to reveal a heavy gown of lily green silk branded with lightly falling leaves that are cut off by a thick white obi. Voluptuous golden hair curls down her back and hides her arms, but I know she's crossing them. “Do you know the name of that song? Or, rather, from whence it came?”
I shake my head as I watch her. “I only know a few verses…some of the words.”
She turns her head three quarters of the way towards me, shielding her face with curly ringlets. “It is a song of loss, and a song of woe. Once upon a time, a very powerful sorceress lost her child to the Fates and birthed that song into being in place of her missing child. It is a powerful song, and a popular one in Felicity. But, very sad. Where are you from?”
“The Vale.” I tell her. “Born and raised in the Plaza.”
The woman turns her head towards the crimson coverlet upon her bed and lowers it somewhat. Dipping the crown of her head towards the back wall. “If I met you again, maybe this sky would brighten up, and the gathering tide would recede. Maybe we would be together…always.” And her breath is cut short when her hands snap towards the red bedding and force her to remain standing as she teeters towards the bed. I hear a single sniffle and think—well, maybe I'm not that bad. If the song brings her to tears as well, maybe I shouldn't beat myself up over wanting to cry my guts out. Maybe.
“Where are you from?” I try, turning towards her on my bed. “You can't be from the Vale. You don't have the…look of an Easterner.”
“Who are you mourning for?” she croaks—her voice raw. “Who were you singing that song for?”
I'm taken aback. I look at my bed from a sidelong gaze and cock my head. “A good friend. A friend I'd give my life for.”
“She wouldn't have wanted that.” the woman snaps. “She would have never wanted that.” the woman huffs, pushing herself up before she straightens her spine. “She would have wanted you to move on. She would have wanted you to be happy.”
What she says strikes me as unnerving and I'm silent as I think over her words.
“Do you—,”
But before I can ask the question, the woman turns on her heel and storms from the room with her cloak carelessly thrown over her shoulder. I her her mumble a sharp goodnight before she slams the door behind her. Leaving me alone.
She would have wanted you to move on.
She would have wanted you to be happy.
And something inside tells me that she's right. Whoever that woman is—I know she's right.
…
When night fades to day, the bed parallel to mine is bare. The woman left in the night, I guess. Maybe we share the same intentions—moving on. Starting a new life. Maybe she knew Naia, and the anger she showed the night before was just frustration. Frustration at herself for not being able to move past Naia's disappearance.
I shrug my shoulders at it as I clean up my area and pack up my things. It was time, I guess, for everyone touched by her to move on. We'd carry her in our hearts, spreading goodwill and heartfelt sounds where ever we could, but we'd move on. We'd move on, as the world changed around us.
I check out of the Djinn Arms when the sun starts rising it's golden head above the blue horizon. I check out, and vanish into the screeching industrial din that is Selina City.