The First Story

by C Bradley Owens

  “Ye know that’s not how it works.” Baba Vedma shook her head and continued to study the map. “The bag gives what ye need, not what ye want. We need the Keeper of Ways.”

  A chill wind whipped through the room. Frau Iver inhaled and floated up from the table. Ice crystals snaked up the sides of the glasses, and the beer inside began to freeze.

  “Calm down.” The Sister of Monsters thrust a hand toward Frau Iver but pulled it back as burning tingles stabbed at her flesh. “We’ll figure this out.”

  “Her voice is gone,” the Toy Peddler noted and turned to Frau Iver. “That’s another sign that things are returning to normal.

  Frau Iver cocked her misty face toward the Toy Peddler and then let out a bone-chilling sigh before settling back into her chair. The temperature slowly returned to normal.

  “This be hopeless,” Baba Vedma announced.

  “Baba Vedma!” The Sister of Monsters nodded toward Frau Iver.

  “Oh, let her have her tantrum.” Baba Vedma pointed at the parchment. “This is a blank map. Yes, the X probably stands for the Keeper of Ways, but how do we even know where to begin?”

  The Innkeeper peered over Baba Vedma’s shoulder and then disappeared behind the bar. He returned a moment later with a parchment of his own, folded neatly into a square. He dropped the unfolded map over Baba Vedma’s head. It was exactly the same size as the blank parchment.

  “A map of the City?” Baba Vedma asked and then carefully slid the map over the blank parchment. She lifted the top left corner so that she could see the X and then flipped the map back. “The X seems to be near a lake.”

  The others smiled, and an audible sigh came from every patron. The Innkeeper nodded and returned to his work as the Council rose decidedly and headed out the door.

  Chapter 56

  The Keeper of Ways

  Ink flowed in every direction, forming representations of roads and rivers and mountains and lakes. The Keeper of Ways watched the black streams coalesce and wondered why they were taking such sharp turns. It might be time to look in on the world, he thought but had no time to prepare before a soft yet heavy knock reverberated vaguely yet resoundingly on the front door.

  “You don’t have to knock, my friend.” He waited until his guest, ethereal and substantial, fully appeared in the room.

  “We have a problem.” Flux’s deep, booming, light and lilting voice, a consistent contradiction of sound and form, disclosed anxiety and a touch of excitement.

  “Of all the new Aspects, you, Flux, should appreciate the changes currently taking place.”

  “I am an agent of change; that’s true.” Flux fluttered around the room, touching every surface gently yet enough to disturb whatever sat atop the surface. “This is forced change, though. They didn’t want it. They don’t want it. They will fight it.”

  “Does anyone every truly want change?”

  “Yes!” Flux became extremely animated. “People welcome change; they wish for it when the situation is untenable, uncontrollable, painful.”

  “And Creativity was not in pain?”

  Flux thought for a long moment. Memories of lonely Elements, wandering, listless, in their sadness, blazed, contracting his vision; then thoughts of wild abandon, wrestled into control by style and form, flew to him out of the haze of his mind. “Not all were in pain. Not as many as now.”

  The Keeper of Ways sighed thoughtfully and turned back to his map. The lines were drying into neatly arranged patterns, not like the old maps of the Woods at all. Those maps were wild, unfettered, unrestrained. A joy to create. The ink would flow in unexpected, unplanned ways. Now, all he saw were straight lines connected to other straight lines, not even random enough to form a web.

  “A path has changed.” The Keeper of Ways roused from his musings, rose and went to the bookshelf against the far wall. His thumbed through the hundreds of scrolls until he found the one he was seeking. He hurried back to the table and unfurled the map.

  “What is it?” Flux asked, moving closer for a better view.

  “This path has altered impressively.” The Keeper of Ways jabbed a finger at the dotted line running through the various symbols. It followed a nearly straight line through the lightning bolt to the sailboat. It ran even straighter after passing through a forked road. Then, without warning, it veered off sharply to the left, running haphazardly toward… ”The Caves of Providence.”

  “What about them?” Flux bent low and peered intently at the dotted line.

  “The Angler has switched sides.” The Keeper of Ways traced the dotted line and then allowed his finger to go beyond where the line stopped, toward a faint outline of tiny dots inside a depiction of a vast mountain range. “If he stays on their current path, he will…not find it. Never mind, our plan is safe.”

  Flux’s steel gray eyes sparkled and focused on the place where the Keeper of Ways’ finger rested for just a brief instant. “So, the Second story is not in that cave.” Flux placed a finger where the Keeper of Ways’ finger had been. “So, which cave is it in?”

  “You should go.” The Keeper of Ways re-rolled the parchment and walked to place it back on the shelves. “Other paths are leading here. They will be coming soon.”

  “Maybe I want to meet them,” Flux said, sitting daintily yet awkwardly, in a wingback chair near the fireplace.

  “Suit yourself.” The Keeper of Ways went back to watching the ink form lines on his newest map. “I’m afraid they are not in a mood to meet a newly created Aspect like yourself.”

  “Or yourself.” Flux pointed an accusatory yet playful finger at the Keeper of Ways. “Let’s not forget that the Keeper of Ways used to be a little old gypsy woman who looked into crystal balls.”

  “I assure you that maps are much more dependable than visions from balls.” The Keeper of Ways titled his head back and looked at the ceiling. “Doesn’t matter now. They’re here.”

  A thunderous knock shook the door.

  Chapter 57

  Flux

  Flux drifted through the world, trailing chaos. It was fun. The world bowed to Flux’s every whim. Trees bent at odd angles as they grew, due to Flux’s desire. Winds shifted and blew in unexpected directions, and even the planets fluttered in their orbits when Flux gazed upon them. The fox became disoriented, its vaunted craftiness useless against Flux’s will. The deer bounded dangerously, propelled by Flux’s presence. But the birds were another thing altogether.

  Birds paused in their natural flight, momentarily distracted by Flux’s influence, but as creatures of straightforward paths, birds never bent for long. Flux watched the birds circle and then continue on their chosen paths. It was infuriating.

  Flux waited until a flock of traveling sparrows populated the branches above before focusing attention once more on the avian path followers. Was it the feathers? The beaks? The creepy little pointy feet? What allowed them to resist Flux?

  One bird broke away from the others. It landed several branches away. Flux watched its jerky movements, seemingly so chaotic, but to Flux, unmistakably patterned. It hopped and fluttered back and forth, its eyes constantly on guard.

  That’s it, Flux thought. They are constantly on guard. Constantly aware of chaos and change. Constantly adjusting to combat Flux.

  Flux saw the awareness. It blazed brightly like the sun high in the sky. And the sun always shook in the path of Flux. So now did the guardian bird. It shook and stumbled, falling from the branch and crashing without a sound to the forest floor.

  Flux hurried to the bird in order to watch it go through the ultimate Flux. The tiny creature’s chest fluttered once, twice, three times, and then all was still. All was silent. All was orderly for just a brief, passing second until Flux took back control, and the forces of decay found the guardian bird’s lifeless form and ushered it into the ultimate state of change.

  With a self-satisfied smile, Flux turned toward the flock of sparrows still populating the branches above.

  Chapter 58

>   The Caves of Providence

  The Puppeteer looked up at the hundreds, thousands, maybe millions, of caves dotting the entire surface of the mountain range in front of him. He tried to pick a place to start, but formulating a plan of attack was too intimidating. If he chose the first cave directly in front of him and then worked his way left, what if the cave he needed was one cave to the right of where he started? The same problem existed if he went right.

  He tried to see the top of the mountain, but it was shrouded in fog. So, top to bottom was out, and if he went up, what if the correct cave was just one cave over from where he started, or two caves over, or three?

  The caves were identical as far as he could tell. He tried to identify even the slightest difference that could… ”This is impossible!” he screamed at the mountain.

  He tried to slump to the ground, but his ridiculous feet kept getting in the way. Instead, he allowed himself to tip over on his side. Gazing at the sideways mountain brought no new perspectives.

  A shadow fluttered on the periphery, which was about twelve caves straight up, which was really to the left. The Puppeteer shot up and squinted at the slight change. It was definitely a shadow. No, it was a light creating shadows. Coming from inside that cave. He pointed one oversized finger at the cave in question and began counting. Twelve over and three up.

  He struggled to his feet and ran. The spaces between caves were surprisingly accommodating to free climbing. He found easy hand and footholds. He made quick progress and was soon standing in front of the cave emitting the dancing glow.

  “Hello!” he called and heard rapid footfalls on rocky ground retreating further into the cave. “I’m coming in!” He stepped across the thin line where darkness gave way to flickering light.

  The inside was warm, much too warm for a cave. The Puppeteer inched his way toward the light source, which he could now identify as some kind of fire. He felt sure of his path, solid in his resolve, and convinced that the cave was responsible for his emotional resurgence.

  Each one of the Caves of Providence held something different: inspirations, emotions, ideas, forgotten Elements, discarded Archetypes. This was the graveyard and the birthplace of Creativity. A new determination flooded over him, and he quickened his pace.

  The back of the cave was jagged; large boulders sat at random intervals stretching from the final wall to the current bend where the Puppeteer stood and gazed at the man standing, nearly pressed against the rocky dead-end.

  “Angler?” The Puppeteer watched the torch shake in the Angler’s tight fist.

  “I didn’t mean for it to go this far.” The Angler’s voice was full of true regret.

  “I believe you.” The Puppeteer softened his voice as much as he could, which now meant that he sounded like a mewling kitten. Of course, that was a better sound than his old echoing wooden voice, especially for calming people down. “What are you doing here?”

  “Trying to make things right.” The Angler reached into his slicker and lifted out the stone with the carved image of a running animal. He held the stone close to his chest. “I just wanted a new ending. Something fresh, unexpected, but…” He bowed his head and cast his eyes up toward the Puppeteer.

  “What? This?” The Puppeteer held up his puffy hands. “It’s not that bad being animated. Well, not entirely. I can’t slap anything properly, which is frustrating, but I also have— Wait. Is that the First Story?”

  The Angler nodded and looked down at the stone. “I just can’t make it work. I don’t think I have the necessary power.”

  “I was searching for the Second Story.” The Puppeteer stepped forward, his eyes never leaving the stone tucked into the nook of the Angler’s arm. “But the First Story should do just fine.”

  “Don’t you get it?” the Angler shouted. “I can’t make it work. I’ve tried. The Origamist could change things. I only end things.”

  “But isn’t the ending the ultimate change?” The Puppeteer reached out a tentative finger and lightly brushed the surface of the stone with one puffy, ridiculous finger. The stone was cool and impossibly smooth, except for the slight groove of the image, and touching that sent chills through his body, which reacted by doing a ludicrous shake that was accompanied, somehow, by a tinkling sound.

  “Maybe you could use it?” The Angler lifted the stone and held it toward the Puppeteer.

  “I wish.” The Puppeteer took the stone in his bloated hands. “I’m an agent of surprise, of twists, and of shocks.”

  “Isn’t surprise just an unexpected change?”

  The two Aspects each cocked their heads. The Puppeteer lowered the stone to the rocky earth. He struggled to put his oversized feet under him and knelt in front of the First Story. The Angler did the same, much more smoothly. They each held out a shaky hand that turned into a pointing finger. As one, they touched the carving.

  Chapter 59

  Confrontation

  The Keeper of Ways opened the door to four very curious-looking Aspects. He nodded slightly and led them into the room.

  “Allow me to introduce Flux,” he said, gesturing toward the enigmatic figure sitting demurely yet antagonistically in the wingback chair.

  “Are you the Keeper of Ways?” the Sister of Monsters asked as she took a chair offered by the Keeper of Ways. The others joined her at the table. The Keeper of Ways sat at the head of the rectangle and rolled up his newly finished map.

  “I am but a humble mapmaker.” The Keeper of Ways engaged in an affectation that manifested as a humbly bowed head.

  “Cut the crap!” Baba Vedma slapped the table. “We be needin’ to know where to find the Second Story. You gonna help us or not?”

  The Keeper of Ways placed a hand next to Baba Vedma’s and then brushed her hand off the table. He wiped the spot that she had slapped. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

  Flux giggled near the fireplace. Frau Iver rose and floated over next to Flux. She turned her indistinct gaze to the mysterious figure, and Flux stared back. The house shuddered. The framed maps adorning the walls fell, one by one by one. A freezing wind shot through the room, extinguishing the fire in the fireplace, threatening to overturn the furniture.

  “What is she doing?” The Keeper of Ways stood up and pointed toward Frau Iver. “Tell her to stop.”

  “She’s Frau Iver.” The Toy Peddler was emphatic. “She stops when she stops.”

  “Flux!” The Keeper of Ways shouted over the rush of wind. “Stop resisting! My maps!” The shelves stuffed with scrolls shuddered and tipped forward, then slammed back against the wall.

  Frau Iver lifted her arms and lowered her misty head. Her hazy eyes bored into Flux, who in return glowered with steel gray eyes into the indistinct face of Frau Iver. Flux’s indifferent stare became focused, then intensely focused, then less focused; then she blinked. Icicles sprouted on Flux’s gray skin. Flux fell into the winged back chair, shivering and still. Frau Iver bent her face even to Flux’s ice-covered form.

  “Who is Flux?” Baba Vedma asked, pointing to the winged back chair. “How is it that Flux can resist Frau Iver like that?”

  “Flux is an Aspect like you.” The Keeper of Ways hurried to the shelves and steadied the piles of parchment.

  “We are the Council of Aspects.” The Sister of Monsters turned her palms up, indicating the entire table and Frau Iver. “We deserve to know when a new Aspect appears. We were not informed of Flux’s creation.”

  “I’m afraid those days are in the past.” The Keeper of Ways’s voice turned dark, menacing. “You are no longer in charge of Creativity. Hadn’t you noticed?”

  The four members of the Council of Aspects moved as one. They rose, they stood, and they floated until they flanked the Keeper of Ways.

  “Stop!” A trembling yet forceful voice came from Flux’s icy lips. “There is no need to fight.”

  The Council, save for Baba Vedma, who kept her angry eyes glued to the Keeper of Ways, turned to look at Flux, who had struggled to
stand and face them.

  “What is your role in this?” The Sister of Monsters stepped toward Flux.

  “I was elevated by the change,” Flux said. “I was just a thought, a possibility; then the Origamist and the Keeper of Ways offered me…power.”

  “You’ve been in on this from the beginning.” Baba Vedma grasped the Keeper of Ways shirt in her craggy fingers and pulled him close to her.

  “No.” The Keeper of Ways pulled his shirt free and brushed past Baba Vedma. He carried a scroll to the table. “I was the first change the Origamist worked. After that, I didn’t want to go back.”

  “So you forced this change on all of us?” The Toy Peddler raised an arm to bar Frau Iver from getting to the Keeper of Ways. “Just so you could become…what? A more powerful Aspect?”

  “All of us got something. Flux got elevation, the Origamist got the power of Creation, the Angler got a new ending, and”—he unrolled the parchment and pointed to the rapidly moving lines—“I got knowledge. I got the ability to see every change just before they happen.”

  A quake shook the house from foundation to roof. The walls shot outward and collapsed in on themselves. The roof toppled and fell into the room. Dust and debris flew in all directions. The sun stopped in its tracks, just shy of the gloaming.

  Chapter 60

  Alarms broke through the silence rudely, sharply, mercilessly. John jerked violently. The bed shook. His body twisted and arched into unnatural, uncomfortable shapes. Matt jumped to his feet, instinctively putting steadying hands on John’s shoulders.

  “What’s happening?” Mrs. Hensley screamed and grabbed her son’s feet. Then she screamed toward the hall, “Help!”

  A trio of people streamed into the room.