"If all goes well, I plan to trick a Gatekeeper of the underworld into coming up and out of the well."
Brindle gasped. "But they’ll eat us - eat us all!" Brindle didn't know that for a fact. All she knew about the underworld, she had learned from children's songs, and it didn't sound like a place anyone wanted to go to, so she was pretty sure she didn't want anything from it coming to her. Her sudden fear penetrated every molecule of Keyshi's being.
Setting its pride aside, it tenderly engulfed Brindle in its warmth, just as it had done in the pit of the well. "You must trust me. I know what I'm doing. No one will get hurt. I swear it - and, when all is over and done, the young male will be saved. (If Keyshi would have had fingers it would have crossed them behind its back while speaking these words - if it had a back.) “You just get him to the well on time.”
Brindle felt comforted by Keyshi’s warmth and verbal assurances, even though she couldn’t really comprehend how she could actually be talking to a summer breeze. However, since she was fairly convinced she was, she felt inclined to believe it. She had to, if she was to have any hope at all that Tyter was to live. "By the grace of Veget, I'll have him at the well,” she swore an oath.
"I know you will,” Keyshi whispered. "You care for him too much to let him die without taking this one mad chance to save him."
"I do, oh, I do,” Brindle heard herself say as she felt her face flush. "But what am I to tell them - that a little summer breeze told me to take Tyter to the well? Do you expect them to believe me - even if, somehow, they manage to understand me?"
"Oh, don't worry. They'll believe you alright. Just let me out of here before I suffocate.”
Brindle opened the door and Keyshi dashed out of the privy, through the hallway and into the eating room. It made quite a stir which brought Wudrick out of his trance. Keyshi circled around and around stretching out its molecules. It didn’t like being confined in such a small space, unable to fully respire.
Circling and circling the room at ever greater speeds, it swirled about Wudrick, blowing through his hair and up his pullover. Then, it dashed into Tyter's room and did the same to CB. "What the?" the caretender shouted, swatting at the rush of wind encircling him. Keyshi was determined to play such general havoc throughout the small hut, no one would doubt a summer breeze had actually been there.
"Brindle, open the hut door. Hurry!” Keyshi called. Brindle dashed to the front door and flung it open. Keyshi dashed out and replenished itself with fresh open air. Then it circled above the gathering at the well, absorbing into its own essence, the heat from the crowd gathered there.
Dumbfounded, Wudrick stared at Brindle who was still standing in the doorway. CB glared at her from the doorway of Tyter's room. Both males stepped forward. The expressions on their faces told Brindle they needed an explanation, and it was up to her to provide one they could understand - and believe.
***** ***** *****
Although invigorating, the air with which Keyshi had warmed tiself was saturated with the agitation of human emotions (not the most pleasant of experiences even for a summer breeze), causing it to quiver through and through, much like the feeling a human gets when it has a fever as the result of an invasion by an alien life form.
The more the molecules of the crowd’s angry emotions mingled with Keyshi's, the more agitated it became. Driven to seek out a more intense, natural source for warmth, it turned northward, circled the Center House bell tower a couple of times, then sailed low over the tops of the last productive veget field in all of Nuttinnew.
The white puffs of the veget plants were all but gone, while the leaves displayed patches of burnt sienna, signifying a lack of dampness in the air. However, the ground which held their roots remained fertile and still managed to retain some moisture, being protected from the rays of the sun by the layer of leaves which had already fallen from their stalks.
The exchange of energy between ground and plant gave off a very different kind of energy than the human chaos Keyshi had just left. Sailing in tranquility among the withering tips, it absorbed the nourishing warmth from the earth below and the sun above. Cruising nature's field was about as pleasant an experience Keyshi could have hoped for, until it was overcome by a cluster of heavy, dark molecules arising from a small open area some yards to the west. Keyshi wanted to get away from these as quickly as possible. They were obviously human. Only humans could turn a bright, sunny day into dismal doom with only the thoughts of their dark imaginations. Still, Keyshi was a little summer breeze, and little summer breezes have more curiosity than a hundred felines.
"Pew! Human for sure by the scent of it. Yet thick as it is, I only sense one. Stranger still, it smells vaguely familiar, though I’m hard pressed to put a human face to it. I wonder who it is - and what are they doing way out here all by themselves, so far away from the others?" There were too many questions without answers not to be pique Keyshi's curiosity.
Circling slightly northward to avoid contact with any more of the dark molecules, Keyshi slowly maneuvered just below the plant tips, until it was nearly upon the clearing. Still it couldn’t see anyone. But having come this far, Keyshi was not about to leave until this mystery was solved. Drawing together a deep breath, virtually hopped over the clearing as quickly as it could, shaking off any dark molecules attaching themselves to its essence.
On the far side, Keyshi mentally reconstructed what it had seen in the clearing - a large mass of black tangled fur wrapped in plant leaves. Making a wide loop, it circled around and made another pass over the clearing in the opposite direction. This time it tried to put a recognizable form to what it had seen. The scent was unmistakable, but from above the hunched creature looked anything but human. There was but one thing to do. It had to go in for a closer look. Quickly it calculated the required velocity it would take to descend into the clearing, pass near the mysterious object, and still be able to pull up and out of the target area before crashing into the multitude of plants surrounding it.
The plan was for Keyshi to go to an elevation of two hundred rods, where it would begin its dive at a sixty-two degree angle into the clearing just at the southern edge of the clearing’s plant line. Once in the target area, it would quickly survey the object for any distinguishable characteristics, then arch itself upward to eighty-two degrees, clearing the northern wall of plants. It was a tricky maneuver, but not impossible. Despite its recent mishaps with the well hole, the bell tower and the hut door, Keyshi had a high estimation of its own maneuverability.
Rising to precisely two hundred rods, Keyshi stretched itself into a thin spear shape and went into a dive. Powered by gravity and driven by agility, Keyshi sped toward its target. Its streamlined design gave off a faint, high-pitched trill which could be heard below. The huddled mass moved slightly, raising its head in unconscious response to the uncommon, rapidly approaching peal.
Through a hair-covered face, deeply set eyes peered blankly into the clear morning sky. Keyshi immediately recognized the obscured human face as belonging to the male it had encountered when it first discovered the sick young male in his dwelling. The realization of this recognition caused Keyshi to hold form a split second longer than planned, but the sight of the rapidly approaching earth quickly brought Keyshi back to its senses. Immediately, it began to reform its shape from that of a slender tree branch to something more on the order of a large, flat leaf, producing a flared design which gave Keyshi more lift, but much less control at the speed it was traveling.
Struggling with every ounce of its being to maintain controlled flight, Keyshi choked as it was immersed into the layer of dark air molecules which latched onto its being like swamp leaches. As well, its new aerodynamic design filled the air with a strange growling sound which grew louder and louder as it approached the ground. Below, Bourg's eyes grew as big as flatcakes. After the first high-whistled pass, he had risen to his feet from his crouched position. Now, paralyzed by the onrushing growling sound, he froze where he stood, staring u
pward, but seeing nothing. Suddenly, the surrounding tall veget plants whipped about with such ferocity, he was physically jostled from his paralysis and stumbled backwards out into the center of the clearing.
Meanwhile, Keyshi was using every emergency trick it knew to make a successful recovery from such a dynamic dive. Unfortunately, it did so at only fifteen rods above the ground, at the very moment Bourg lunged into the center of the clearing. A wall of dry hot air slammed down upon the big male, tearing through his hair and clothing and knocking him to his knees. Before Keyshi could even think about what had taken place, it found its being had been split in two by the large, hairy human.
In the next instant it was being sliced, diced, shredded and thrashed as its momentum carried it into the surrounding veget field. Under normal speed, these hardy, but yielding, plants would have given way easily to Keyshi's presence, but now Keyshi was striking them with such force they pierced through it like straws through an oak tree in a hurricane. Fortunately, though scattered and disjoined, tossed and tumbled, twisted and turned, all of Keyshi remained intact at its lowest level of consciousness: that of instinctual survival.
It was at this primitive existence level that Keyshi knew it had better gather itself together quickly, or fall prey to the dark molecules which were already taking advantage of its discombobulated state to attach even more of themselves to the fragmented elements of its very essence. The incorporation of too many of these molecules would quickly weigh Keyshi down, rendering it immobile, and causing it to collapse into the earth, where it would lie trapped and dormant until the first frost came and abated its life process until it existed no more.
As Keyshi struggled to regroup itself without incorporating any more of the parasitic dark molecules, it could see the path of ruin it had left in the wake of its disastrous miscalculation. Behind it lay a swath of crippled, crunched, maimed and mutilated vegetation, a hundred rods long and twelve rods wide. At first it was disturbed by the devastation it had caused. At first it was aghast at the sight. But as it pulled more of itself together and regained almost total consciousness, it began to admire its handiwork with no lack of personal pride. It had no idea it was capable of such destruction.
Sluggishly lugging along with its infestation of dark molecules, Keyshi drifted back toward the clearing. It was feeling quite ill now, as the dreary, dark molecules began invading its being like a virus. Keyshi's first instinct was to climb high into the air and slough off those parts of its essence infected by these unwanted parasites. However, even now, it was only able to maintain an elevation just high enough to drift above the tops of the veget plants. Even that seemingly simple effort expended far too much of its energy emergency reserves
Keyshi had sought warmth and now it had more than it could deal with. "Well," it said with forced cheerful acquiescence. "I guess I'm warm enough, now, to torment the kapoodle out of that Gatekeeper."
Taking a quick last look about the clearing, it was pleasantly surprised not to see the human. "I must have scared the kapoodle out of that human, as well,” Keyshi mused, having no way of knowing the hairy, human giant was lying beneath the carnage of veget plants with blood trickling down the side of a large, jagged rock situated just beneath his head. Bourg was unconscious, and his mind was no longer filled with the many thoughts and memories which had caused him to flee to this sanctuary in the first place. Gone were the images of the well, the wellkeeper of the east, and the mayor. Gone were the memories of the death of Maadle, and his promise to Talon. Gone from his mind was the product of their union, their son, Tyter. Gone were all the experiences of a past life. In one crushing blow, Bourg was an infant, re-born into a world about which he knew absolutely nothing.
***** ***** *****
As if nature had woven some mystical thread between its creatures, so that even a prairie dog might whimper in pain when somewhere on earth a human mother is wailing in grief for the loss of a child, so it was that Pentalope became painfully aware of a missing life form. Where was the wellkeeper of the west?
For all her organizing and planning, Pentalope had not thought to put someone in charge of keeping an eye on Bourg. After all, the wellkeeper was nearly always in his hut when not attending to business at the well. She turned toward his hut, but saw no one.
Loden, who had previously been shouting over Pentalope’s screams, became aware of her sudden silence. Something or someone had distracted her with a more immediate concern. His eyes followed hers toward Bourg's hut. It was only then he realized his old friend and fellow wellkeeper was not at his station beside the well. Quickly, his eyes searched the crowds gathered on both sides of the well. Pentalope’s did the same until their eyes met.
As he stared into Pentalope’s piercing green eyes, he was filled with mixed emotions. For although he was perplexed to the point of concern by Bourg’s absence, he was nevertheless cheered to see the perturbed look smeared across Pentalope’s countenance. For it revealed that the wellkeeper of the west, whose loyalty she most direly needed if her plan was to succeed, was not yet under her complete control. After all, there was little to be gained if she were to banish one wellkeeper without first having the unfaltering loyalty of the other, when the list of wellkeeper volunteers was all but one short of nought.
Loden’s heart rejoiced. Despite, Bourg’s declarations the day before, there was still a chance he could persuade his fellow wellkeeper to join his rebellion. If he could, Pentalope would have little recourse but to yield to his plans and demands.
This Pentalope understood all too well. She was relying on Bourg's childlike sense of honor to support her and reject the rebellion. Both knew they had to find Bourg, and find him fast. Both turned to their aides, shouting the order, “Find Bourg!”
Being west of the well, Pentalope undoubtedly had the advantage. Loden watched intently, but hopelessly, as a pair of Pentalope's so-called ambassadors sprinted to Bourg's hut and knock frantically on the door. He watched as the door opened and a male of slight build stepped out onto the porch. Loden sighed with relief as the two runners signaled to Pentalope that the wellkeeper wasn’t there and his whereabouts were unknown.
Pentalope thought for several moments then exploded with curses. Mardrith, kneeling behind her, could feel the heat radiate from her flushed skin. The apex of her confrontation with the rebel leader was just coming to a head, and now this - to disrupt everything and find the western wellkeeper. Did Loden have him? No, she could tell by his expression of confused relief that he didn’t.
Quickly, the word was passed down the line on both sides of the well. Find Bourg! There would be a reward to the one who found him and brought him to the well. Loden promised the people of the east an extra ration of water. Pentalope promised the people of the west a specially embroidered piece from her newly acquired hidden cache.
In no time the people on both sides dispersed in every direction. The search for the wellkeeper of the west was on.
***** ***** *****
CB peeked through the eating room curtains after the first pair of inquirers returned to Pentalope at the well. Moments later the commotion around the well dissipated throughout the huts to the west of the well. Before long, several more groups came to the hut, inquiring about Bourg’s whereabouts. It was soon apparent that not all, if any, believed the caretender’s answer. Many become quite belligerent, demanding to search the hut themselves. At which point CB would tactfully mention that he wasn’t entirely sure that his young patient within didn’t have the Dreaded Drought Disease. If this didn’t satisfy their quest, it, at least, redirected it for awhile.
The search for Bourg continued on both sides of the well as the sun crept high in the sky until it was almost directly overhead.
"If I understand Brindle correctly, we are to have your patient at the well precisely at midday,” Wudrick told CB.
"I still don't understand it. It’s crazy, if you ask me. Are you sure you understood her right, or are you just hearing what you want to hear?" CB didn
’t hide his true thoughts.
Brindle nodded emphatically, physically affirming Wudrick was, indeed, correct in his interpretation of her communicative efforts. "The young female acts like I have,” Wudrick responded.
"A summer breeze that talks - and gives orders to humans, huh?” CB sounded more than doubtful.
"That’s what she says, best I can figure out,” Wudrick, himself, sounded somewhat dubious.
"Okay, okay, but even if you did figure out what she was trying to tell us, why should we put any credence in such a far fetched tale. How can a warm, summer breeze provide any cold at all let alone provide the degree of cold needed to bring the lad's temperature down to normal? And that's assuming my theory has any merit at all, in the first place."
"What choice do we have?"
"Moving the lad could kill him."
"You said he was going to die sooner or later anyway."
"Eeeweh, nah, nah!” Brindle squealed upon hearing this. She ran out of the room, not wanting to hear any more talk about Tyter dying. Still, she couldn’t refrain from listening through the crack in the door.
CB cringed at the blunt honesty of Wudrick's words and the pain of the young female’s cries. The caretender didn't know why he was so reluctant to go along with the plan. A few hours earlier he was ready to steal away Tyter’s life in secret. "Maybe that's the problem,” he considered. "If only I had taken the lad's life in private where no one would have been the wiser. Now, Wudrick wants me to haul him out into the light of day, in front of everyone. What will the other caretenders think when they see how I'm mistreating my young patient? How can I possibly explain such an irresponsible act? Soon the word will get around that I don't pamper my patients properly. My caretending career will be ruined. All because I'm being coerced by this short, fat, bumbling fool of a male and a babbling, half-witted female. I'll be the object of ridicule throughout the whole community just like my father was.”
Pieces: Book One, The Rending Page 31