The Song of the World (nanowrimo13)

Chapter 22

The music seemed to drift over to him as if coming from a far distance. Song looked around, puzzled, trying to find where the noise was coming from.

“It’s coming from a long way away,” Shorn said, wincing as a jolt of pain speared his forehead.

“I know that.” He frowned.

It felt like a little jolt, a little burning sensation at first, but which spread like wildfire across all his synapses. Shorn’s eyes widened in surprise as the song burgeoned in his head, running through him, making every part of his body tingle. It was almost like a spiritual possession. The Song filled his veins, flowing through like blood, reenergising, rebuilding, remaking him. It was an impulsive, subconscious thing. The notes he sang were higher than any he had ever remembered hearing, almost off the register of his ears. The chain around his neck fell to the floor with a clatter.

In front of him, the man with his face stood aghast, cut off in mid anger. His face grew paler and paler, and slowly, the magic that held him together started falling apart. Shorn - Song could see his own features peel off the man’s face, like a rubber mask melting. Soon they stood face to face, with their own naked faces; Song, young, confident, brimming with the Song of the World, against Bass, haunted, frightened, devoid of self.

“Why?” Song asked. He didn’t know why he asked. He had to somehow express the confusion and betrayal he felt. “I trusted you. You were my teacher and adviser. You would have had the place of honour in every thing I did. Why was it not enough?”

“Why must I be content to be second fiddle all the time?” Bass replied. “They offered me the world. I took it.”

“Was it worth it?”

Bass didn’t reply. He was looking out the window into the distance, his arms folded. With a sudden swift movement, he attacked Song. The two men grappled with each other. Song, though younger, was not as fit as the wilier Bass, but by sheer strength he tried to subdue the man.

“Stop that,” Justice said as he walked through the door. He and Hands when up and pulled the two apart. Seams, Barr, Kale and Mercy stepped through the door, blocking the exit. Bass looked around at them wildly. He was panting heavily, his chest heaving.

The seven of them stood surrounding Bass.

“Why, hello,” he said cockily.

“Let’s take him back to the palace and be done with him,” Seams said. They nodded in agreement.

“Really? We’ll see about that.” Bass clasped his hands together and shouted a loud incantation.

~

Bass stood in the middle of the circle, looking at the six hooded people in turn.

“He is stronger than I expected,” he admitted. “I’ve taken his power, but sometimes I feel like I can barely hold on to it, even with the powers of the rest in my grasp.”

“We know. We can feel it. Our powers struggle with the Song as well. Our magic is not as refined as we would like to think.”

“So what are you going to do about it? You landed me in this position.”

“It’s not your place to question us. Remember, all your power comes from us.”

“But what if I lose control? What if he pushes too hard and I can’t hold on to him?”

“You may call us in dire need,” the spokesperson said. The air grew even quieter. There seemed to be an unheard discussion in the air, between the hoods. Bass stood with unease, wondering what he had really gotten himself into.