Soon, everyone’s eyes were on the tower of swirling lights that appeared to encircle a towering, mysterious form. Even Loden and Pentalope stopped their arguing to view the spectacle. After several moments Pentalope gnashed her teeth. "So, you’ve reached into your own sack of tricks have you?" she jeered at Loden. "Quite a spectacle you’ve created to entertain the fears of the people. But I, for one, am not the least bit intimidated by your trick of lights. Do you really think I’m a fool like these others? If you had any real power, that creature of lights would be here in our midst and not way off at the far edge of town where no one can see the source of your trickery."
Loden felt somewhat relieved to hear these words. For it meant that whatever the monster of lights was, it wasn’t any of Pentalope’s doing. Still, knowing what it wasn’t, didn’t relieve any anxiety concerning what it was. So, like the rest of those gathered about the well, he joined the others in a silence of uncertainty.
***** ***** *****
Even without the power of the piece against her flesh, Brindle became acutely aware of the sudden silence from the well. And, if silence can be directed, it was most intensely focused in her direction.
"Stop! Stop that!" she hollered at Keyshi and threw herself onto the piece. Instantly, the tower of lights went out. Shaken by Brindle's demand, Keyshi ceased its swirling, allowing the darkened sand to fall clumsily from the sky and pepper Brindle from head to toe. Realizing what it had done, it quickly, but gently, blew the sand off of her. Slowly, Brindle raised to her knees, shaking all over and spitting out sand.
"Oh, dear,” Keyshi moaned.
"What is it?” Brindle gasped.
"Humans! Lots of them. Coming this way. Oh, I think I’ve made a terrible mistake. Poor Tee - ta."
"Teeta? You mean, Tyter! What does this have to do with him?” Brindle asked, as she picked up the piece and stuffed it back into her pullover.
"Yes, Tyter. Tyter, Tyter, Tyter.” Keyshi rehearsed the name a few times in its consciousness, then continued, “I can’t explain now. They’re getting closer. They’ll want to know what made the tower of lights. They’ll find this object and take it away. We may never get it to the well in time.”
Brindle’s mind filled with many more questions, but one thing about which she had no question was that the others would soon be upon them. She jumped to her feet with one thought in mind: to run - but to where?
"Run alongside the wall of wind,” Keyshi yelled.
Without hesitation, Brindle went as near to the wall of wind as she dared. Keyshi flew beside her, kicking up its own wall of dust. Quickly, masterfully, it blended its own wall with the larger wall, totally concealing the young female from view.
"Now run!” Keyshi ordered. Brindle raced forward, while Keyshi stayed at her side. They didn’t stop until they were far south of the eastern huts.
"Wha - what do we do now (pant)?” Brindle gasped.
"You rest while I try to figure that out,” Keyshi said, but, in truth, its prankish mind had already begun concocting the most devilish prank of its life.
***** ***** *****
CB and Wudrick had not been pleased when the crowd began to gather about the well. They had formed a lean-to against the well with the cot covers upon which they had carried Tyter. There, they had remained, unnoticed, long after the crowd had gathered; long after the air within the “eye” had cleared, leaving the town encircled by a wall of whirling sand; and, long after the screeching voice of Pentalope Pulpitt had caused them to stuff their ears with tufts of patch cloth.
It was amazing, perhaps, that no one noticed them huddled beneath the cot covers, but then it had been a very confusing day and Wudrick was the master of being invisible in a crowd. Their makeshift lean-to kept the sun from heating the well stones against which they were leaning. This relative coolness gave them some relief from the heat of the sun above and the heat of the young male lying between them.
For this reason each was relatively content to remain silent in his own mental misery, wondering how they came to such an awkward situation. Besides, neither wanted discovery: Wudrick, because he had no desire to be ordered about like a simpering idiot by his wife; and CB, because he was too embarrassed to have everyone see how unprofessionally he was treating his young patient. So there they sat, in silence, waiting for something - anything - to happen, all the while cursing each moment that nothing did.
Then, as time stretched into eternity, there was an unusual commotion among the crowd outside. For the first time in a long time the two males acknowledged each other's existence.
"What are they shouting about?” CB leaned over Tyter and whispered just loud enough for Wudrick to hear.
"I'm not sure. I think I heard someone say something about a monster,” Wudrick answered with a slight chuckle in his voice that went unnoticed by CB.
"A what?” CB whispered back a little louder.
"A monster!” Wudrick responded in a hushed whisper.
"A bouncer?” CB questioned.
"A monster!" Wudrick shouted out of frustration.
"A monster! It’s a monster!" someone else shouted, and soon the word “monster” was echoed throughout the crowd gathered on both sides of the well.
The two males under the blanket stiffened, fearing they had been discovered, but to their relief the crowd began scattering from around the well. Now, all they had to worry about was this monster everyone was hollering about.
CB leaned closer to Wudrick and whispered in his ear, "What's a monster?"
If the large, luminous, swirling object behind the huts to the east really was a monster, nobody wanted to aggravate it by their presence. And although, their fear was real, nobody had any idea what a monster really was. The only reference they had was a few lines in a children's song which went:
Monster, monster
Scary scare
If it be here,
You'd best be there.
On this brief illusion alone, the people of the west decided that if the monster of the east was coming to the well, they would rather be in the presumed safety of their own huts.
The people of the east knew the same rhyme. So even though the monster, being on their side of the well, might be construed as being on their side of the argument, one overwhelming fact remained: it also meant, it was closer to them than to the people of the west, and this gave them little comfort.
The younger rebels, however, took the presence of the monster to be an omen that their cause was being validated - that Fate and the COE – the Center of Everything -- were on their side. In celebration of their presumed victory they began jumping up and down while shouting in jubilation. Replete with triumphantal emotions, they raced toward their huge, luminous messiah. But just as they came within a hundred reeds of it, it vanished. All that remained was a swirl of dust which fell lifelessly to the ground.
It all happened so fast, no one was sure what each had seen, but all agreed the outer wall of wind and sand had suddenly moved closer to them. (This, of course, was due to Keyshi forming an inside pseudo-wall to hide Brindle, the possessor of the Gatekeeper’s key.) Quicker than it had begun, their youthful courage dissolved into fear, and like the people of the west, they too retreated in swift fashion to their huts.
Other than the two hidden beneath the cot covers, the only ones still at the well were Pentalope with her ambassadors and Loden with a contingent of his more mature rebels. All had remained surprisingly silent since the moment the monster vanished. They all had more questions than words to express them.
Even Loden and Pentalope were at a loss for poignant elocution. Since the people had all retreated, there was no one left to coerce, impress or manipulate for political gain. Each of their remaining followers would follow no matter what they said, and the rebel and the mayor had long ago stopped listening each to other's words.
Pentalope reached down and tugged on Bourg's thick black beard. Like an obedient beast of burden, he turned to the left. When he felt the mayor's
heels dig into his ribs, he plodded off toward Center House with Pentalope's ambassadors following close behind.
"Fleetra. Fleetra,” the mayor bellowed. "Run ahead and prepare my bath. Oh, and I desire a massage as well. Have your hutmate prepare the veget oils.”
Loden watched his friend lumber away like some spiritless creature. It was midday and no one had yet received their water rations. Still, there was no reason for Loden to stay at the well, so he returned to his own hut with those who had stayed at his side. Somewhere along the way, the Hooded One appeared beside him. Glancing sideways, he expelled a deep, worried sigh then spoke. "Have you found the young female wellwalker?"
"No,” came the almost reluctant reply.
"I need her to make another descent into the well. You must find her, quickly."
"I'm working on it,” the Hooded One answered with perturbed frustration. “But why?”
“I’ve been a wellkeeper my entire life and I’m convinced there is something very wrong down there. I need to know what.”
“It may be dangerous for the wellwalker, then.” There was a hint of compassion in the Hooded One’s gravelly voice. The look on Loden’s face responded where his voice failed. “I’ll do my best to find her.”
"That is all I've ever asked of you,” Loden said with a grateful, though troubled, smile.
The Hooded One fell back among the others, and disappeared somewhere along the way. In silence, Loden and his rebels walked on toward the leader's hut. Even Dampy was at a loss for commentary.
***** ***** *****
From beneath the cot covers, Wudrick and CB listened to the remnant rustle of the crowd’s retreat; some to the west, some to the east. No sooner had they sighed a sigh of relief when they were nearly frightened out of their skins.
"Wudrick!" a voice barked as the cover was jerked from them. "Where's the young female? Isn’t she here with you? She was with you earlier, wasn’t she?"
"Sollie?” Wudrick exclaimed at the sound of the widow Forbal’s voice. Gradually, his pupils adjusted and his eyes focused on the face of the only female he had ever loved.
CB’s whole body flushed. The tiny hairs covering his body stiffened, pricking him all over, as he choked on his own spittle trying to speak. "This isn’t what you think. That is, I, er, that is, we, uh...." He let out a deep sigh of frustration, hacked deeply and, being too much a gentleman to spit in Sollie’s presence, swallowed his whole wad of saliva, then continued. "You see, this young male is dying and I, er, that is Wudrick thought . . . but there was this crazy young female who, uh. . .(hack)."
For the first time Sollie turned away from Wudrick's face and looked into CB’s eyes. Her own appeared as cold as stone and seemed to shout, "Shut up, you fool!" At least, that’s what CB’s conscience heard, and so that is what he did.
Just as CB fell silent, Tyter groaned loudly and began to jerk about under the weight of the two males. Sollie bent down and placed her hand on his shoulder. He released a long, low, airy moan and became still. Sollie's eyes turned back to Wudrick. "Where's the young female wellwalker? Where's Brindle?"
As Wudrick stared back into Sollie's eyes, he sensed the life fluid of her passion racing through the infrastructure of her cold, calm exterior which had frightened CB into jittering silence. All Wudrick wanted to do at that moment was to crawl inside Sollie’s skin and lose himself within her passion and forget about everything else: the young male, the young female, the well, the bell, the mystery of Center House, his wife, and the whole blasted little town.
However, Wudrick was a scientist and logic overcame emotion. "I don't know,” he answered just as calmly and coldly as the question had been asked.
At that moment there was a loud swooshing sound from directly above as Keyshi plunged into the well through the lingering cool air which had risen from below with its last exit. The sudden displacement forced the cool air out of its previous confinement in the well with such an explosive blast, Sollie, who had been kneeling on the balls of her feet, was blown off balance and sent tumbling to the ground.
"Cold! Cold!” CB exclaimed. "Just like the young female said." But as quickly as it appeared the cool air had dissipated and the warmth of the sun again beat down upon them. "That blasted female!” CB cursed. "I told you there was no truth to her crazy story,” he sputtered, and spat out his disappointment along with the grit between his teeth.
***** ***** *****
As Brindle stumbled northward toward the well, the piece tucked under her pullover was becoming heavier. She was sure of it. There were moments when she thought she could carry it no further. Yet, the same piece that so burdened her, was undoubtedly the source of her strength to go on. Every sense of her being was heightened. She felt courage combined with weariness, joy with sorrow, power with weakness.
Ahead, she could clearly see and hear the three people hovered over Tyter at the well. Yet, she couldn’t connect their concerns to her own, or envision anything beyond each moment of her current existence.
"Go to the top the well,” Keyshi had instructed. “Hold the piece over the opening." This was all Keyshi said before he flew high into the sky to gather more warmth before once again descending into the cool, dank darkness of the well. This final order became all consuming, as her entire being became a concerted effort to obey it.
"There she is!” CB shouted while pointing southward. Sollie, still sitting where she had been toppled over, spun herself around in the direction of the pointing finger. They all watched as Brindle slowly staggered toward them.
Sollie had always thought Brindle was rather immature for her age. (Despite her reputation as a foul mouth, or, perhaps, because of it.) Now, her face appeared weathered, etched with lines of hard experiences and difficult choices. Her body was doubled over like an aged one, barely able to withstand the pull of gravity.
Sollie turned to Wudrick. "Keep her here, for Veget’s sake! Don't let her wander off - again. Loden needs her to go back down into the well. I'll see to it he knows she’s here.” Wudrick nodded in the affirmative, and with that assurance, Sollie gave him a pat on the cheek and raced eastward.
A few minutes later Dampy and Joudlier barged into Loden’s hut. Joudlier began to speak. "That Hooded One said...."
". . . that feisty, little spitfire of a well-rat has been found. Even as we stand here reporting to you, she’s at the well, right now, and ready to take the plunge,” Dampy interrupted in his customary, expedient manner.
"Good! Has there been any news concerning Bourg?"
"Loony as the maid in the moon,” Dampy quipped. Too late to avoid Loden’s angry glare, Joudlier clapped his hand over his little friend’s impulsive mouth.
"Last time I drew her out of the well by myself but I think the lopsided cranking put too much strain on the shaft. I don’t want to take any more chances like that with either the well or the wellwalker, so I’ll need someone to crank Bourg’s handle." Having laid out his predicament, Loden inspected the odd pair standing in front of him, while shaking his head back and forth. "Hm, I suppose you two will have to do."
"We, tha's nuff ab weh,” Dampy blurted between Joudlier's fingers.
Joudlier interpreted for Loden. "Mayor's husband and a western caretender are there too.”
"What? Why?"
Dampy shook free of Joudlier's grip. "That crazy caretender has the real wellwalker out there, too. Burning him up under the noonday sun.” Dampy paused, collected another thought, then concluded. "He probably plans to dump his lifeless body into the well to destroy the evidence."
“Shut up!” Joudlier snarled, as he grabbed his little friend by the nape of his neck and the seat of his pants and flung him out the door.
"Speaks crazy - most times,” Joudlier offered as an explanation. “Better they help....”
Even before he finished speaking, Dampy was standing beside him covered with dust.
Loden studied them. Then without a word, he stepped outside. Dampy and Joudlier followed. In the distance he
could see three figures huddled about a bundle laying near the well - presumably Tyter. He dared not even speculate what they were up to. "Alright, you two gather the rebels together and prepare to herd the easterners to the well for their rations. I'm sure those two at the well - whatever they're up to - will be able to help me lower the female wellwalker."
Despite his words, Loden's heart felt depleted of hope. How was he ever to lead a successful rebellion with the likes of the two standing beside him? "Why," he wondered, "couldn't they all have been like the Hooded One?"
***** ***** *****
Plunging once again into the hollow of the well, Keyshi had only reached the seventieth stone when it realized such a swift descent expended much of its energy into the well shaft air, thus decreasing its personal warmth. It considered returning to the surface immediately, but decided not to entirely waste the current maneuver.
Keyshi's original plan had been to engage the underearthian Gatekeeper in some sort of head-on confrontation by angering it in some way. However, such a venture in the Gatekeeper's own frigid environment would not be advantageous to a little summer breeze. Instead, it decided to approach the whole matter in the only way it really knew how. It would use trickery and deceit by using a modified version of the same trick it had played on the humans when it first arrived in Nuttinnew.
As Keyshi descended past each stone layer of the well, it continued drawing itself into a long, thin stream. Timing, it knew, was critical. The slightest error could mean, not only its own death, but the death of the young male human, and possibly all the town’s inhabitants. However, having once before made this trip, and now knowing what to expect, Keyshi’s timing was perfect as it slipped through the opening to the well chamber just as the gurgling water receded. Quick as a flash, it pulled itself into the chamber where Tyter had found the strange object that was currently having such an odd effect on the young female, who remained obediently waiting at the well rim above.
Pieces: Book One, The Rending Page 36