The Song of the World (nanowrimo13)

Chapter 22

“It must be done,” the spokesperson finally said. “When it is dire, you may call on us.”

He recited an incantation and told Bass to remember it.

“What do I do with this?”

“When you are in dire need, speak these words and we will appear.”

“How?”

“That’s not for you to know.”

~

The air around Bass grew fuzzy, thickening, as if buzzing with flies, solidifying into six hooded shadows that grew bigger and bigger, overshadowing all of them.

“What sorcery is this?” Barr exclaimed.

The six shadows and Bass felt discordant. They felt like notes that weren’t in the right key, rhythms that clashed, cymbals that clanged wildly in the night. They felt like the emptiness that sucked away all sound, leaving a void, a vacuum, stealing your words and your notes. It was like an Anti-Song.

The seven nobles stepped backwards, away from them.

“You thought I was alone, didn’t you?” Bass gloated. “That I would go with you willingly? No. Today, all of you die here. All your talents will return to me, that I may rule the World as I wish.”

“Is this all about ruling, Bass?” Justice asked sadly. “Has it always been about this?”

“What else is it ever about? Everyone builds their power base, Espressivo. Didn’t you as well?”

“Now that’s a name I haven’t been called in a long time.” Justice grimaced.

“And yet maybe those are the names we need now,” Barr said.

“Declare yourselves. I am Song,” the young man took a step forward. “I defy you, your unresolved dissonance, and your vacuum of silence.”

“Espressivo, as you have said. I bring to this Song the life that it needs,” Espressivo, formerly Justice said, linking hands with Song.

“Baritone, bringing depth to all you Sing,” Barr joined them.”

“I am Counterpoint,” the one who had been called Hands said. “Joining many melodies into one harmonious song.”

There was a pause before Seams stepped forward. “Well, I’m Unison, for when you need me. For when we are one, we are strong.”

“Pianist, though there is no Piano here. I will do all I can to help,” Kale said, shrugging apologetically.

Finally Mercy joined them. “They used to call me Conductor. I will direct you as the Song directs, against the disorder that may come.”

Bass sneered. “What is this, a criminal line up? What do you think you can do against me? Should I stand up and declare myself as Bass the undertone that now undermines all that you are?”

“You are not Bass any longer,” Song said. “You are not.”

“Enough talk,” the hooded beings hissed. Shivers ran up the spines of the men. It was like a multitude of insects speaking at the same time. “We are not here to play with you.” The feeling of oppression ran through them, making them feel weak, sucking away at their talents, reminding them of all the times, years for some, that they had spent talentless and almost worthless in their own eyes.

“Sing,” Song commanded. He opened his mouth, starting a few notes, faltering as the gaze of the Six fell upon him.

Conductor raised a finger in the air. “Prepare!” he yelled, not knowing what else to say. Bringing it down like a baton, Song focused his thoughts on the moving finger, using it as a baton to guide him. Slowly and surely, his voice rose, his heart and mind tapping into the Song of the World.