"Okay, turn the handle - backwards. Don't let it slip,” Loden ordered.
"I - I can't."
"What do you mean you can't?” Loden sounded perturbed.
"I mean, I don't think I should. That is, I....”
"What is it?” Loden definitely sounded perturbed.
"May I speak to you. I mean, you know, over here."
There was an urgency in the caretender's voice he knew he shouldn’t ignore. "Alright, then, what is it?" he asked as he went over to CB.
"I'm afraid there’ll be much trauma and a goodly amount of life-fluid once his hand is released from the press of the gear. I really think I need to be over there to tend to him - immediately."
"It’s that bad?” Loden asked, sure that it was, but hoping to hear something different from the professional.
"You saw it.” Not a typical caretender’s response.
"Alright. Just hold this handle until I set the reverse pin. Then I’ll come back and relieve you.”
CB acknowledged with a nod, but as he did the gears move slightly. "Oooh,” Wudrick groaned, although the excruciating pain might have evoked a more demonstrative response in most males. "It isn’t one of your rebel schemes to grind me up as a substitute for veget mush, is it wellkeeper?” the scientist asked.
There was a lilt of ironic humor in his voice which surprised and actually impressed Loden considering the dire circumstances under which it was expressed.
"Hang on tight, my friend. We'll have you out of there in a sliver,” Loden assured Wudrick as he lunged around the well and shoved in the reverse gear pin.
The words were almost enough to make Wudrick pass out. "My friend?" He had always figured the wellkeeper loathed him for his fumbling, bumbling spinelessness, but at that very moment, his opinion of Loden shifted slightly. Most of what he knew about the wellkeeper of the east had come from his wife's years of griping. Perhaps, Sollie had been right. Perhaps, there may be more to the rebel wellkeeper than he had ever suspected.
***** ***** *****
In the gullet of the well, Brindle wondered why she was no longer descending. The piece dangling between her breasts had begun to give off a peculiar warmth. At the same time, she began to hear voices from above.
"Here old friend, let me tie this cord around your arm. There, now, that should hold it,” she heard the caretender say.
"Do I still have a hand?" she heard the mayor's husband ask in a low, hesitant voice.
"Oh, I'm sure everything will be just fine. Are you in much pain?"
"No, not really. It feels sort of numb, actually.”
"Good, good,” CB answered, although he knew it was the worst of all possible signs.
"I hate to have to ask you this, friend," Brindle heard Loden say, "but I'm afraid you’re still going to have to help me crank that handle with your good hand until your caught hand is freed."
"And don’t you worry about a thing,” CB added in his most confident caretender voice. “I’ll be right here to tend your hand just as soon as its free from the gears. So don’t you worry about it one little bit. It’ll be just fine!" he declared with forced optimism. However, all three males were pretty sure it wouldn't. Even from her depth in the well shaft, Brindle sensed it too. "Let’s get on with it, then,” Wudrick said with as much vigor as he could muster. Grabbing the handle with his free hand, he gave Loden a nod and together they turned the crank handle.
"Augh!” Wudrick groaned as the gears rolled back over his pinned hand. Tears gushed from his eyes and ran down his flushed face. No one would have blamed him for screaming, but he didn't scream. Instead he sucked in a deep breath and groaned heavily as he exhaled it through clenched teeth.
As soon as it had cleared the gears, CB carefully lifted Wudrick’s arm moving his maimed hand out of harms way. The tourniquet he had applied earlier kept the precious life-fluid from flowing freely. Still, there was enough of it expelled to stain the gears and drip into the well.
At some seventy stones below, the swing seat suddenly jerked upward about a foot. Brindle looked up and felt warm droplets fall on her face. One droplet ran down her cheek and rested in the corner of her mouth. Instinctively, she licked at it. "Ugh!” she gagged and spit. Frantically, she rubbed her cheeks against her raised shoulders to wipe away the warm, salty fluid; but instead, smeared the sticky substance across her face. She lowered her head to defend herself from more droplets, but, as far as she could tell, none fell.
On the surface, CB had Wudrick sitting on the ground leaning against the well stones with his injured hand lifted high above his head. The skin across the back of his fleshy hand had been lacerated and pulled aside exposing the inner raw elements of the hand.
Although the bones had miraculously remained intact, the muscles and connecting tissues had been severely traumatized. Carefully, and skillfully, he worked the skin back over these exposed portions. Not knowing what else to do, he applied a gooey veget substance to the wound and wrapped a clean cloth about it.
The goo was a creation of his father's which had greatly improved caretending for these types of open wounds. In just a few moments the skin was virtually sealed by the congealing compound, and already the healing process had started. As it was being applied a drop of it fell on the back of Wudrick's other hand which lay in his lap. When he saw it, he smiled despite the pain. His thoughts escaped back to his youth to the day he first showed the strange gooey substance he had just created to CB’s father.
Quite serendipitously, Wudrick had concocted the gooey substance which when molded into a sphere and cured, had the amazing quality of bouncing, not just once, or twice, but many times over. In all of Nuttinnew there wasn’t anything like it. Wudrick created several of the bouncy spheres in hopes the other children would so enjoy playing with them, they would no longer reject him for his many peculiarities.
The elder CB, however, didn’t want anyone else to know of Wudrick's prodigious scientific abilities. Besides, bouncing spheres were something the little town of Nuttinnew had never had before. Such a thing might be considered change and lead to the charge of rebellion against young Wudrick. This was something CB’s father most definitely did not want to happen. For this very reason he made Wudrick destroy all the spheres, including the prototype, and vow never to make them again.
For some reason unknown even to himself at the time, the elder CB had kept a bucket of Wudrick’s gooey ingredients. One day while cleaning out his closet of secret inventions, thee elder CB made his own serendipitous discovery. Wudrick’s solution provided a marvelous, elastic covering which, when placed over an open wound, kept it free from contamination, while the natural healing powers of the body performed their magic.
Rather severe lacerations had always been one of the occupational hazards for those who worked in the veget fields. Without fanfare, the elder CB began using his new concoction for tending open wounds. His subtle inferences that the strange ointment had always been a part of the standard operating procedure was readily accepted. The people of Nuttinnew were at least wise enough not to scrutinize too closely anything which eased their suffering and prolonged their lives. In no time the goo became a standard component in every caretender’s little, bag of concoctions. Just as it, supposedly, had always been.
After coating Wudrick’s wound, CB wrapped it with several layers of clean cloth. Then he made a sling which supported the entire arm. This did little to heal the injured hand, but it was a good reminder to be careful and not re-injure it. Lastly, he instructed Wudrick to sit down beside Tyter. CB now had two patients at the well, for whom he felt he’d done all he could, short of giving them a taste from the green vial.
While CB tended to Wudrick, he was reminded of the old widow Bludge who had been crushed beneath the fallen walls of her ill cared for hut. Her entire frail body must have been like Wudrick's hand. No wonder his father had taken it upon himself to usurp Fate, when Fate failed to put her out of her misery in a timely manner.
"Will his hand b
e alright?” Loden asked anxiously.
"Yes, oh yes, it'll be just fine,” CB lied in caretender fashion, as he gave Wudrick a swallow of a mild sedative from a small, clear flask.
"Good! So allow me to remind you, there is a young female still hanging by cords in the depth of this well and you and I are the only one's left to bring her out."
It was the first time CB realized that Loden seriously expected him to take Wudrick's place at the western well handle. "Oh, oh dear, I ... oh, my,” he stammered.
"Come on caretender. If you don't want a third patient to tend to today,” Loden said as he pointed at the taut swing ropes hanging from the crank shaft.
CB, quickly, made sure his patients were as comfortable as they could be under the circumstances. Then he rose and grabbed hold of the shaft handle. Loden gave him a nod and a command. "Okay, slowly, now - and smoothly. That's it. Steady, now. Steady. And mind your hands.”
CB’s tender hands were already stinging on the very first turn. His were hands for touching tender, human flesh, not the crude implements of manual labor.
Brindle's stomach jumped to her throat when, without warning, the well seat beneath her dropped a quick third of a rod. She was so startled, she nearly fell off the seat. "Blast!" she cursed as her body was again surrounded with warmth.
"Holy hurricane! Don't fall, human,” Keyshi gasped as it engulfed the air around her, and then descended down the tubular shaft. "How much longer will you be in here?" it called back.
"Not long, if they don't stop again. What's going on up there?"
"The short, round male human got an appendage caught in that mechanical contraption you're hanging from."
"Was he hurt very badly?” Brindle called down, compassionately.
"Hard to say. Humans are such fragile creatures. Some even steal the skins off fellow creatures to protect their own frail hides,” Keyshi snapped back.
"What?” Brindle called. She didn't have the slightest idea what it was talking about and, in truth, didn’t care to know. It sounded much too disgusting. However, Keyshi had already darted through the opening to the chamber room at the bottom of the well. For some reason the water level had dropped several feet, leaving an opening so large, even a small human could have passed through it with no trouble. Keyshi considered it was a bit of blessed luck, and thought it was about time something went in its favor.
"Seventy-four, Seventy-five...” Brindle continued counting the well stones as the two males above slowly turned the crank handles.
Meanwhile, Keyshi discovered that the crevice which led to the Gatekeeper's chamber, but had been covered over with loose dirt fallen from the chamber wall. “Blow!” Keyshi cursed. It had planned to slip into the crack and give the Gatekeeper a quick stab of warm - just to get his attention. But it had already been delayed once talking to the young female, and having to re-warm itself. Now, it would have to expend more energy removing the dirt that blocked the entrance. "Oh, well,” Keyshi thought. "Perhaps, this will give the human time to finish counting those silly stones."
Swirling itself into a tight spiral, Keyshi began to burrow its way into the loose dirt, sending bits of gravel everywhere, clattering off the chamber’s stone walls. A few moments later, Keyshi could feel the cold air ahead as it escaped from the Gatekeeper’s chamber. Before long, it could hear voices.
"Shush! What was that?" the Gatekeeper asked in a loud, but cautious whisper. Keyshi became as still as it possibly could and still remain alive. "Did you hear something?"
"Yes. (pause to listen) Perhaps, it was just an avalanche?" the apprentice offered.
"That first sound a moment ago was a minor avalanche, for sure. I hear them all the time. But this was an unusual noise, and - hey, what's this? A crack in the wall? Ah ha! Come here! Take a look at this.”
Keyshi could sense the Gatekeeper's presence just at the end of the breach. The air thickened even colder as the apprentice, too, moved closer.
"What is it? What have you found?” the latter hesitantly asked, unsure if it was its place to question the Gatekeeper.
"Warms!" the Gatekeeper said.
"Warms?" the apprentice echoed with astonishment.
"Warms,” the Gatekeeper repeated in a curiously matter-of-fact tone.
"But how could...?" the apprentice began as it watched the Gatekeeper sniff around the thin crack in the wall.
Keyshi didn't wait around to hear the rest of the question, let alone the answer. It had once again expended more energy than it had planned to and was in no shape for a direct confrontation. It had piqued the Gatekeeper’s curiosity and was sure the next encounter would bring to fruition the desired end results of its daring scheme.
Slowly, Keyshi thinned out its being until most of it was gathered in the outer key chamber. Then, it slowly reeled itself in, as the Gatekeeper continued to sniff about at the other end. As soon as it was totally out of the breach, it dashed rear-end first under the ledge forming the chamber entrance. This was a tricky maneuver, but not knowing what to expect of the Gatekeeper, it was the quickest way out.
The last thing Keyshi remembered seeing in the chamber room was the entrance to the crevice. Now free from fallen debris, it no longer looked like a random crack in the infrastructure of the earth. Now it appeared to be a perfect replica of the object hanging around the young female’s neck - and the burn on the young male’s buttock.
"By the breeze!” Keyshi swore, more like a prayer, than a curse.
"What?" Keyshi heard Brindle say as the little breeze rushed upward past her.
"How much longer?” Keyshi called back with what little energy it had left to mimic the human voice.
"What?” Brindle called again, but at that moment Keyshi rocketed out of the well and into the sunlight.
"There it is again!” CB exclaimed, wondering whether or not he had been too quick to judge Brindle's story. Still, the breeze that struck his face was little more than cool. Hardly the cold needed to save the lad's life.
"Keep turning!” Loden commanded.
In the depth of the well, Brindle found it difficult to count the stones. Earlier, even when Wudrick was at the handle, her ride was as smooth as veget pudding sliding down the throat, compared to the jerky descent she was currently experiencing.
"Ninety-six. Ninety-seven....” The count continued as the gurgling sound rose from below and filled Brindle's ears. She looked up at the crescent of light formed by the nearly eclipsed mouth of the well. Only then, while looking up, did she realized the heavy weight about her neck. When she attempted to straighten up her posture, the piece seemed to come alive, pulling her downward, as if willfully determined not to be taken from the depth of the well.
By the time Brindle reached the one hundredth stone level the weight of the piece had become nearly unbearable. Despite this, she remembered her last descent and prepared to maneuver herself onto the protruding ledge.
Above Loden watched the swatch he had tied to the swing seat rope, marking the approach to the one hundredth stone level, spin off the crank spool, so he knew the wellwalker had reached that particularly unpredictable place in the well. Therefore, he wasn’t surprised when the signal to slow down was received.
Below, the swing seat slowed and Brindle planted her feet firmly on the slick protrusion, then gave the emergency signal to stop the descent. As Brindle slid out of her seat, she was careful to quickly tie the signal rope around the swing seat, then around her wrist. She didn’t want to lose contact with her only way of escape from her dark, dank tomb. At least a tomb is what it felt like.
The strange piece hanging about her neck pulled her downward in defiance of all hope for a resurrection. Brindle was sure she could no longer withstand the increasing pull about her neck without being plunged into the water below. She, also, knew that despite its threat to take her life, she couldn’t leave the piece in the well, or Keyshi's plan to save Tyter would come to naught.
There was only one thing she could think to do. Quickly, a
nd carefully, she bent her head and slipped the cord holding the piece from her neck and held it between her knees like a human vise. Then using the cord, she tied the piece to the swing seat. Immediately, she had the sensation that her entire body felt light and airy. It was almost as if she could just float right up and out of the well. She wasn’t sure what it meant, but she knew that, somehow, she had been changed, forever.
Grabbing the swing seat ropes with both hands, she lifted her feet, and swung forward. The swing seat jerked beneath her slightly as the cord became snapped taut, then pulled the piece over the edge of the ledge. As soon as it fell free, Brindle heard a snapping sound from beneath her, as the seat beneath her buttocks give way. It had cracked, but fortunately not in two - not yet, anyway.
As she clung to the swing seat ropes, she could feel them quiver under the strain. While she felt lighter than a puff, the piece had now become exceedingly heavy. She didn't understand how she knew this yet, she did. It was like knowing you had a dream which is perfectly clear in your mind when you awake. Then, as you think about it, the dream begins to change into something other than what it truly was. That’s how Brindle felt, now that she had experienced the power of the piece.
Still, determined to succeed in her mission, she signaled to continue being lowered. "One hundred-two. One hundred-three.... Ouch!" It wasn't easy counting the stones when the split seat kept pinching her buttocks. Shifting her weight from one cheek to the other helped, but not much. The water level had fallen several stones since her last descent, and her struggle with the pinching seat had distracted her from noticing the cold which suddenly engulfed her. As her bare foot pressed against the well wall to count the stones and to keep her from scraping against them, a pale white glow lit up the well beneath her. Looking down, between her legs, she saw the piece peaceably glowing as it gently drifted on the surface of the water toward the wall behind her.
Pieces: Book One, The Rending Page 38