The Song of the World (nanowrimo13)

Chapter 22

~

Hello.

You’re here.

You’re prettier than I imagined. And much younger too.

I’m only young to you. The King sees me as a stately old woman. It’s really what you wish to see that matters.

Are you here to help me?

I’ve always been here, waiting for you to come.

But why couldn’t I hear you earlier?

He was blocking you. He built a wall between you and me. But Music has broken that.

Song looked around. Is this your garden? Haven’t I been here before?

You have, before you were torn away from me and cast out.

What is this place?

This is the Centre of the World. It is what was and what is and what will be. Everything revolves around this place.

What - even the city?

The City, Chai, Caff, the small towns, the little wayside villages. This is what it could be - paradise, where things are made right.

But there are faded, patchy places.

That’s where Dissonance has been attacking me. I cannot defend myself alone. I need all of you. That is why there is a King and his nobles. To protect me, to protect this place. If I die, if paradise falls, your world will be no more.

Dissonance. But dissonance resolves.

If he resolves, then all will be well. But it has been years, my Song. Many years whilst he has grown increasingly dissonant, never resolving, always standing out like a sore thumb, pulling down all our efforts. And now, he has aligned himself with the anti-song, the Evil who seeks to make an end to all music. I fear he will never resolve.

But why could not King Music stop him?

He was Music’s soft spot. His weakness, his indulgence. He bolstered the King’s pride with his good words and jovial self, supporting him with his powerful bass. Oh, he was very clever. He never once let his dissonance show in the Council. Always in the council, he masked his words, masked his self. But always behind the scenes, he spoke words of discordance, sowing seeds of pride and distrust.

How do we defeat him now? The Six are powerful - Anti-Songs, did you say? They choke us.

We must Sing together.

~

“Conduct us well, Conductor,” Song murmured. “She is with us.”

Together, they sang. They sang of the peace of the land, the hidden beauty that emerged in gardens and forests, in the quaintness of their buildings and the culture of the people, Pianist adding in sung notes the trills and flourishes what words could not describe.

“We feel her again,” Espressivo said, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“A welcome friend,” Unison whispered.

And then the attack began. In the middle of the song, they inserted themselves; strange dissonances, broken chords, disjointed rhythms and unwanted pauses. They pushed their way in, causing the counterpoint to flow out of sync with the melody, breaking apart the baritone harmony. Conductor struggled to hold them together, sweat beading on his forehead. Unison tried to bring them back into a single melody, a single strong song. It held for a while, but soon enough the cracks started showing as the shadows circled them, preventing them from seeing each other.

“I can’t,” Conductor said, his voice breaking. “I can’t conduct you if you can’t see me.”

“Come to the garden. Close your eyes and come to the garden,” the Song of the World whispered, inviting them in.

“You’re not worthy to go in,” Dissonance screamed at them. “You don’t have what it takes. You don’t have the talent and you don’t have the discipline. You’re all worthless. Can’t even stand up to me.”

“Lies! All lies!” Song shouted, the Song of the World giving him the words. “All are welcome, all may come in. Come experience the peace that I bring!”

Song looked around the garden. He could see the shadows encroaching, burning the plants as they passed, leaving smoke and ash. Faintly in the distance, he could see his comrades struggling to break through, held out by barriers of thick thorns.

What do we do? Where do these hedges come from?

They’re all in their minds. They’ve built up their own walls out of the lies that Dissonance has been feeding them. You have to bring them out of it.

How?

There was no reply - he could feel the Song being carried away by the shadows. Everything seemed foggy to him and he didn’t know what to do. He walked over to Baritone, figuring that if he could help the one person he knew best, maybe he could help the rest. Baritone stood behind a waist-high wall of thorns.

“Come in, Bari,” he said.

“I don’t know how to anymore.”

Song touched the thorns, wondering how to push them away. They seemed to wilt at his touch, but as much as he tried to push them away, they refused to budge. He looked around in despair. All around the shadows covered them. The garden was fast losing its luster, as smoke and ash filled their senses.

 Thunder rumbled in the distance. It sounded like an army of horses.