Rhistmaege

Revelations

"Why should I believe your stories? Everything keeps getting twisted around. I don't know your motive. Things always blow up in my face. I'm tired of it. Why don't you find another pawn?" Dovi paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. The room had gone from warm and comforting to choking and stifling. Sweat trickled down between his shoulder blades. Gray eyes simmered. "Well, don't you have anything to say? Are you like all the other conniving fools?" asked Dovi, sounding harsher than he had intended.

Tuck leaned over mechanically and placed his pipe on a stand carved in the likeness of a swoop-necked heron with upthrust wings. He turned to Dovi, ran his tongue behind lips pressed together in a tight line. "Your tizzy quite finished? Or have you a spare rant left in your pocket?"

Dovi's face reddened further, but shifted from anger to embarrassment. He ran concealing hands down his cheeks.

Tuck sighed deeply. "Follow me if you dare to follow any fool, for I know only a foolish fool thinks himself fairer than the other fools." He pushed himself up off the leather chair, straightened out his crooked back, walked to the front door, and left the cottage.

Dovi scurried after him.

The sun sat nestled between two jagged peaks cresting the treetops off to the west. The gentle breeze welcomed Dovi like a long-lost friend. I'm glad to leave that choking place. He shook his head at Tuck, as the old man stopped in the center of the clearing and gazed into the sky. What trick will be played upon me this time?

"Unhelian Aerdaed Fugelwylle," called Tuck as he raised his arms.

Birds swarmed, wheeled and swooped to form a whirling field of feather and flight. Small, crafty azure blues and vibrant yellows sailed alongside wings of reds and browns and whites. Tuck Sooth swung his hands down low, then raised his palms up high, and directed the massive, flowing flock to follow his command. "Unhelian Aerdaed Fugelwylle," he repeated, his voice growing louder.

Dovi's heart swelled and his mind soared. The avian cloud transformed into a swirling live motion show. His mother stood in front of the well at his family's farm. As the birds moved, so did his she. Absolutely incredible. Oh, Mom, I miss you so much. He brushed the tears from his eyes. I'm not ready to see this yet.

His mother climbed atop the lip of the well, then without hesitation, plunged into the darkness. Why did you? The dark silhouette splashed into the watery bottom. Dovi watched on in horror. Chalia struggled to stay afloat, clawing and groping her way along the slimy well. A desperate hand caught hold of an iron rung driven into the stone wall. Mom, you can't swim. Why? Dovi cringed as she took a deep breath, then followed a series of iron rungs not up, but down beneath the waterline. Rung by rung, she pulled herself lower. Lips pressed shut, lower and lower she went, fighting against the need for air.

Dovi watched in horror, his breath coming in heaving wracks. Stuffed down suffering burst to the surface. What is she doing? Why would you leave me? I don't want to watch her die.

"P-Please, I don't want to w-watch her die. Please, d-don't show me anymore," said Dovi between staccato sobs.

Tuck ignored Dovi's plea. The birds continued to cascade across the sky, spinning and sliding in and out, diving from corner to middle to bottom. The speed in which the aerial painters flowed dazzled the eye, as wings and tail feathers formed acid grays, murky browns and deep purplish blues.

Chalia pulled herself down, fought the mounting pressure in her ears, and finally reached the bottom of the well.

Dovi wiped away his tears. A light at the bottom of the well? The soaring image swirled once more; three flowers emerged from a carved stone base, each pulsing with colorful life: red, blue and indigo. Chalia removed a pulsating blue stone from her pocket and pushed the orb into a depression in the rock floor.