Wound of the Sky

Voice of the Storm

The calm produced of Silver Peak's summoning did not last for long; I was barely out of sight when bruised clouds swept over the sky, and the mournful song of the winds rose once more. The twisting recesses of the unnatural mountain knotted themselves into a voice that whispered feverishly on all sides:

dust of the earth,

rise up, rise up

With every word, the tattered sky churned and twisted as if in pain, and storm clouds went rushing down the other side of the mountain. I was numb and frightened, and Silver Peak's words still chilled me. Perhaps, I thought, it was my bad heart that wrought all this. Perhaps I did deserve to be swallowed up in the shrieking cold of this place.

With nothing else to guide my way, I followed the sound of the voice higher into the clouds. I longed to open my mouth and sing with it, but even in my despair, the power of my own will clamped about my throat as if it would strangle me. I recollected my mother's tears, and my master's stern frown, and struggled onward.

The slope ahead became gentler, and the climb easier. The wind shrieked awesomely over the open space, and its song surrounded me, carrying from one end of the sky to the other. As I looked around for which way I might try next, a haggard figure appeared at the far edge of the clearing. It was Master Winding Path.

Though she was battered and bloodied, a great fury burned in her gaze. Her sword gleamed brightly in her hand. Her cloak swirled bravely in the winds. The very sight of her filled me with awe.

She did not see me. Instead, she looked tensely into the sky. As she did, the winds rose to a howl. Dust tore from the jagged ground in clouds that blotted out everything. The gusts knocked me down, and nearly tore the very air from my lungs. Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the storm fell silent. The sky opened, and the winds dropped something like a bundle of rags.

The ragged thing unfurled itself, and stood. It was gaunt like a wasted child or a very old man. Its limbs swayed weightlessly on the wind, and its tattered clothes flapped about it like a flag. Its skin was deathly pale, its expression was blank and guileless, and it stared from two mismatched, sky-colored eyes. It blinked, first one wide eye, then the other, and fixed its gaze silently on Master Winding Path.

The master traced something in the dust with her blade, and it began to shine with a brilliant light. She pointed it at the creature, and cried out:

"Bleak One! By the ancient virtue of the Deep Earth, I bind and command you: Be gone!"

The creature still said nothing. It spread its arms wide, and a grin crackled across its cold face like lightning.

Then, with a fearsome cry, Master Winding Path dashed across the clearing and attacked. She thrust and slashed at the creature again and again, and her skill was dazzling. The creature, though, slid easily away from every blow, so that even my master's expert swordplay looked like a vain attempt to slice apart the air itself. I watched the wild struggle play out for what may have been minutes, or may have been hours, and though my master is strong, she became exhausted. Panting and out of breath, she finally stumbled. The moment she did, the creature uttered a quiet word, and a violent gust roared down and knocked her to the ground. She went still.

Forgetting my terror, I rushed out into the clearing to be at the master's side. Before I could reach her, the bleak creature blocked my way. It looked me up and down, cocked its head, and scowled.

"Why did you climb up my mountain?" it demanded.

I was too stunned to respond. The bleak creature, though, seemed to accept my silence as an answer. It nodded to itself, and shuffled nearer, until it stood so close that its nose nearly touched mine. A restless breeze coiled about its every movement, and it emanated a powerful cold, as if its skin were ice. It sucked in a deep breath, blew out mightily, and stared into my face. Then, its eyes shone, and it clapped its hands gleefully together.