"What's the problem up here?" an icy voice asked in a tone sounding more like a complaint than a question, as each word momentarily froze in midair before crumbling into a myriad of sleet particles which covered the Gatekeeper’s chamber like a gritty dust.
"Sir, Commander, Sir,” the Gatekeeper snapped rigidly. Billows of white vapor puffed out of its essence and floated like a cloud about the chamber. Some found its way into the crevice where Keyshi was hiding, making it shiver all the more. In response, Keyshi attempted to oscillate more of the relatively warmer air at its tail end up to its leading end. "Problem, Sir? There's no problem here, sir," the Gatekeeper sounded more confused than confident.
"From the look of these glazed-over walls, you've been up to something, but it hasn’t been post-keeping. Listen up now, there's a rumor afloat that there’s been a breach of security somewhere in this quadrant. Since, I have, personally, assured members of the Lower Committee there’s been no such breach under my command, I’d hate to think what would happen to a Gatekeeper who hadn’t kept me fully informed concerning any and all irregularities, thus causing me to unintentionally misinform my superiors, and, thereby, endanger my promotion into their ranks, for which, I might add, I am long overdue.”
"Oh, yes sir, you can be sure that all is as it should be here at my post, sir." This time the Gatekeeper did sound confident. Perhaps, a little too confident.
"Hm, yes, well, none-the-less, I'm not taking any chances. To add to my troubles, I've been assigned a whole squad of raw recruits, fresh out of conscience cleansing classes. Since I can’t get out of it, I've decided to use it to my advantage. I’m assigning each of my Gatekeepers a trainee. It’ll provide them on-the-job training, giving them a first hand look at life in the trenches, while bolstering each of my posts with additional security. Yours will be along shortly. In the meantime, bring me up to date. When have you last checked on the key? (Salute)"
"Oh, just this morning, sir, as I do every day. See, here, it’s all properly recorded on the wall log per regulations."
"Humph! From the looks of these ice layers, these last dozen or so marks were all etched in at the same time - and just recently, if I’ve any experience in such things. How do you explain this?" the commander barked with the roar of a tornado.
Keyshi listened as the Gatekeeper bumbled out an obviously fabricated explanation. "Hm,” was the commander’s only response. Keyshi couldn't tell whether it believed the Gatekeeper, or not. What followed was a long silence as if that was what the commander, itself, was trying to decide. This was then broken by some sort of commotion in the distance.
For a moment Keyshi sensed the Gatekeeper had been left alone. A moment later there was another commotion. The commander had re-entered the Gatekeeper’s post, while a third presence remained just outside.
"Gatekeeper Hardblow, I am assigning you a bit of an unusual apprentice. It was a city slicker in its Upperearth existence and has lost much of its gusto for hard knocks. Still, I’m informed it's been diligent at its studies, and the training commander thinks that with proper training, it’ll make a good, gritty, Gatekeeper guard some day. This could look good on both our records come evaluation time, Hardblow, so don’t let me down on this one."
"Sir, yes, Sir! Er, no, Sir! Er, Sir, have you heard word of any Gatekeeper promotions in the very near future, Sir?” the Gatekeeper quizzed, hesitantly, never quite knowing the protocol for broaching the subject.
"Oh, I don't know about that, that’s for the Lower Committee to decide, but I do know, if there has been a breach of security at any of the key gates, the Gatekeeper responsible for it had better be prepared for an eternity as steam in Hell.”
Keyshi could feel the air in the breach reverberate with a cold shiver that wasn’t its own.
"Apprentice, enter!" the commander shouted, and, immediately, Keyshi sensed another presence in the room for the air had suddenly become extremely tense.
"Apprentice 1st Class, Number 11546811632, reporting for duty, sir,” the apprentice snapped.
"At ease!" the Commander ordered, most officially. The air relaxed, somewhat. "I trust, Gatekeeper Hardblow, I am leaving this wind recruit in the gusts of a most capable trainer.”
"Sir, yes, sir! It will be expertly trained to be the best Gatekeeper in all your domain - er, I mean not counting yours truly, of course, uh - sir,” the Gatekeeper boasted.
"Ha! Gatekeeper Hardblow - more like Gatekeeper Blowhard, if you ask me,” Keyshi mused and found it had acquired a personal interest in pulling the most magnificent prank of its young life on that braggartly embarrassment to all sentient winds.
Keyshi didn’t know if there was afterlife after afterlife for conscious winds, but the little summer breeze vowed this Gatekeeper was personally going to find out. In the meantime, however, Keyshi could feel its own quivering become slow and exaggerated, as the frigid air slowed its metabolism to the danger point. If it didn't get back to the surface soon, its prank playing days would be over for good.
Surreptitiously, Keyshi slid itself back into the main chamber where it collected itself then slipped through the small opening above the gurgling water. However, cold and laden with moisture on its hind quarters where it had been inundated with water, the assent up the tubular well shaft proved much more difficult. Straight up, it could see the well opening and although the sky remained dark with dust, Keyshi could sense the warmth of the midday sun just beyond. Below, it could hear the taunting, gurgling sound of the well water. Cold and wet were two conditions not conducive to a thriving little summer breeze. Keyshi’s energy level was extremely diminished. For a few moments it started thinking it would not even make it to the surface - that it would die right then and there.
But the thought of playing a first rate prank on that braggadocio gave Keyshi the fortitude to muster up enough energy to push itself closer and closer to the well rim. The nearer it got, the warmer the air became, and the more energy it was able to amass until, eventually, it oozed forth into the full warmth of the dusty day.
Once free, Keyshi was pleased to see that the air currents it had set into motion continued to perpetuate the sand storm. "Well, at least something is going right,” Keyshi coughed as its own being was choked by the sand filled air.
"Get back, female!” CB commanded, "Your smothering him. Blast! He’s fallen still. Wudrick pull your cloak over my head. Fate! I can't see or hear a thing. He could be dead for all I can tell."
CB crouched over Tyter and Wudrick crouched over him from the opposite side forming a human cave. In the process Brindle was forced outside the shelter which is why she alone noticed the sparkle of rainbow colored lights dance a few rods into the sky from a singular spot on the ground nearby. The sight so frightened her, she scrambled to crawl her way into the human shelter. "Suh. Suh,” she cried, "Awt heh, comb seh.” But the shelter resisted her efforts.
"What are you doing? Go away. Haven't you caused this poor lad enough harm?" CB snapped. The words crushed Brindle more than the elbow in the face which blocked her entrance.
A steady stream of tears washed the sand from her eyes, which were again fixed on the distant spectacle of colored lights. For some reason, her initial fright was quickly replaced by a sense of fearful fascination. For the more the sand swirled into the air, the more beautiful the mystical phenomenon appeared. Several times she rubbed her eyes thinking it was merely an illusion, but still it remained.
When she realized that tiny, multicolored lights were dancing all over her body, she slowly approached the awesome display, not stopping until she was quite close. Focusing her eyes into the swirling dust, she could barely make out a recess in the sand. Inside this recess, there appeared to be one of those strange pieces which had fallen from the sky. However, this one was far more beautiful than any she had seen so far, for it gave off a brilliant, multicolored glow which pulsated in time with the rhythm of her heartbeat.
Through the rush of wind and sand about her head, she could hear a distinct c
rackling sound. Turning her head from side to side, she attempted to locate the direction of its source. Ultimately, she came to the conclusion it was coming from the strange piece itself. At that same instant, its light flashed and flooded her brain. For a moment, she was back in the well where her ears were filled with the discomforting gurgling sound she had heard before. Then, her body shook all over as she returned to her present reality and found herself lying in the sand within reach of the strange object. On impulse, she reached forward and gently laid her hand upon it.
Again, Brindle was back in the depth of the well, encapsulated in a small, dank room, its frigid air causing bumps to arise all over her flesh. Her feet were wet with water which lapped against the stone ledge, forming half the chamber’s floor. There was something else. She looked down. There, at her feet, lay the still, lifeless body of her hero, Tyter. His head was resting on the very piece she was touching. As she watched, a deep laceration on his forehead healed over, until there was no indication it had ever existed.
"Tyter!" she screamed and once again she found herself in the sand storm clutching the unusual piece to her chest with both hands. Immediately, the chaotic state of the world about her took on the appearance of complex orderliness. Through the dust, she could clearly see the two males huddled over Tyter at the well and in the distance the mob of westerners marching toward the well from Center House. Not only could she see them, but their voices were clear and distinct. She could hear all the voices at once, or select singular ones at will.
Brindle felt certain she should be afraid, but she knew she wasn’t. Whatever this magic was, it was now a part of her, and she had never felt more content, nor more unafraid in all her young life.
***** ***** *****
"Fleetra! Fleetra! Blast! I've got sand in my eyes - again.” Pentalope's voice pierced the darkness. "Where are you when I need you? Bring a wet towel, quickly!" she demanded.
"Coming Ma'am," Fleetra's voice responded in Brindle's ears. Their voices and others came and went as Brindle scanned the air waves.
"Everyone, to the well!" several voices urged. "This is the moment we’ve all been waiting for."
"Hurry, Medrash, the Mayor is almost to the well."
"I've lost my sandal. Blast this cursed wind. I can't see anything. Ow! The sand is grating my eyeballs!”
"Loden is a - a traitor! Loden is - a traitor!" Beneath it all, a deep rumbling voice rehearses its lines, over and over.
Brindle felt as though she was in a dream. She slipped the piece down the neck of her pullover, allowing it to slide between her totes to where her waist sash stayed its descent. Although the piece was as hard as stone, it felt warm against her skin. If she didn’t know better, she’d have sworn it moved about of its own accord, causing her to wonder if the sensation was anything like birthing. But she soon gave up that notion, for what she was feeling was pleasurable which was not an expression she had ever heard a female use when discussing that blessed event. Still, she sensed an essence of new life flowing through her body.
With sand and wind raging all about her, Brindle confidently arose and slowly walked eastward among the huts and beyond, without so much as a thought of the others still huddled in their make-shift shelter. Fear had somehow escaped her, replaced by a feeling of comfortable contentment flowing through her like hallowed water.
It wasn’t that she had no concerns. In fact, she was experiencing an uncommon concern for the welfare of her parents, whom she had assumed were back among the mass of people moving toward the well. However, hard as she tried, she was unable to hear their voices among the many. This troubled her.
However, long before anxiety concerning their whereabouts set in, a new flood of insight washed over her, bathing her in a light experienced by few. In a flash she realized that in the grand scope of all things, we humans, like all living things, merely do what we do, then we die. All else - ethics, beliefs, morality - was just the relative, yet futile, endeavor to justify one’s own acts over those of another’s.
***** ***** *****
Joudlier burst into Loden's hut and with him entered the wind and sand.
"Close the door, for Veget’s sake!” Loden shouted. Just then Dampy burst through the doorway, spun around Joudlier, twirled into the eating room, tripped over a small foot stool, and fell flat on the floor, face first. Loden, who had watched the entire gymnastics, motioned for Joudlier to quickly close the door. But before he could comply, he heard the door slam shut behind him. Surprised, he spun about and found himself staring into the dark shadows of a hood.
"Well, what is it, Joudlier?" Loden inquired somewhat bitterly as he spat the sand from between his teeth.
"Easterners. Marching off to the well. How many? Don’t know. Too much sand blowing.” Joudlier threw in his disclaimer, then added, “Found some heading westward, past the well.”
"Where were they going?" the Hooded One asked.
Joudlier glared at the small, hooded figure, then at Loden. The expression on the rebel leader's face showed he expected an answer. So Joudlier answered Loden's look rather than the Hooded One’s question. “Claimed to get lost heading to the well.”
"You’re sure they weren't trying to defect to the west?" the Hooded One asked in a raspy tone that made each question sound like an interrogation - which it was.
Joudlier became even more agitated, as he glared at the questioner. However, anticipating the look on Loden's face, he reluctantly responded. His voice betrayed the loathing contempt seething in his heart.
"Just got lost. Easy enough in this storm. Grateful for being set aright.” Then, attempting a verbal pre-emptive strike, Joudlier quickly added, “Haven't found that little, foulmouthed female. Wellwalker, humph!"
"Oh, she’s a wellwalker, alright," Loden asserted, leaning forward. "What do you mean you haven't been able to locate her? Have you checked her hut?" Loden's anxious concern surprised Joudlier.
"Sure! Er, the mother did. Couldn't find her though. Started ranting and wailing, making a big fuss. Telling everyone she’s lost in the well. Then, yanked off her pullover. Started thrashing herself with dried veget reeds. Crying and carrying on. Claimed to be a bad parents for ‘letting those horrible wellkeepers throw her into the well.’ Er, pretty much her exact words."
By the look on his face, this didn’t please Loden at all.
"Oh, it’s okay, sir. Dampy here...." Joudlier turned toward his friend, still lying motionless on the floor. He gave him a poke with his toe and Dampy gave out a slight whimper. Apparently, satisfied he was still alive, Joudlier resumed what he was saying. "Dampy, here, took her aside. Suggested her offspring was forced into the well by that western wellkeeper. Saying how you were against it from the start, but were, uh - well, overpowered by that giant.”
"What?” Loden responded instinctively, then pondered rubbing his chin and turning slightly pale. Bourg was, after all, his friend and he didn't really care to have him blamed for something that wasn’t true. On the other hand, with Pentalope trying to banish him, he was in too precarious a position right now to have the easterners riled up against him, as well.
"The young female isn’t lost in the well. I, myself, left her quite safe and sound in her own hut,” Loden stated firmly, as if denying an accusation.
"We know, sir. Cordish Nooget saw her with that little bump of a male married to the mayor. Sneaking around everyone gathered at the well.”
"Wudrick?" the Hooded One asked in a strangely high pitched voice, giving the hint of surprise, which, in turn, surprised Joudlier. It was the first time he’d ever heard anything near emotion in the strange one’s voice.
"Yes, him,” Joudlier, said in nearly a hushed voice, having been caught off guard.
"Where did they go?” Loden inserted quickly. His tone of voice revealed his desire for a full disclosure of what Joudlier knew about the matter.
"Into Center House,” Joudlier answered, then paused. The room fell silent. Outside the wind and sand blasted against the
hut. The hushed roar of human voices could be heard in the direction of the well. Then Dampy, still lying on the floor, let out a squeal.
"Eeek! (spit, cough) Have I been buried alive? I am entombed in sand. Is all of Nuttinnew soon to be in Underearth? Will we all be buried alive?! What’s this curse that’s come upon us?" Dampy sat up where he had been lying, and looked about the room. His eyes fell upon the hooded figure standing behind him at the door.
Looking to his left his eyes fell upon Joudlier. He didn’t see Loden. "Blast it, fellow. Help me up. What kind of friend are you anyway? Will you only come to my aid after I'm dead? A bit late, then, don’t you think?”
"Sorry, little friend,” Joudlier apologized as he lifted Dampy to his feet. "Been discussing important matters and ... well, that comes first, you know. Loden....”
"Loden, shmoden. I'll tell you what Lod-eb...."
Joudlier quickly slapped his big hand over Dampy's mouth before he could further incriminate himself. Dampy's eyes bulged in surprise as Joudlier nodded his head back over his right shoulder, indicating he wanted him to look in that direction. Dampy, who had been stretched to his tiptoes by Joudlier's grasp, rolled his eyes as far right as he could. Seeing Loden, he gave out a low, muffled, "Oh," and his body flushed and went limp.
Joudlier removed his hand, but gestured he would clamp him shut again, if necessary. Dampy stood silently where he was set down. An embarrassed, sheepish grin spread across his face. This wasn’t due to what he had said, but to what he would have said, if his friend had not stopped him.
"As I was saying,” Dampy continued with a forced smile, "we are beholden to Loden for his magnificent leadership, and there are much more important concerns than the chance of my unfortunate, untimely, early demise, which, as we can all witness, didn’t occur anyway.”
Pieces: Book One, The Rending Page 34