Emyr.

we are joka the wave-born ikiyoka gravity’s children ajagara Her battalions on high for aeons we flew at Her side riding gravity’s wake proud and strong till Her fall then began the orchestrations of madness the scream of The Fang against the universe like metal ripping through metal a crescendo of blessed radiation a cry that boiled like a blood fever a tidal wave of bile and disbelief and rage and spite and the nerves started to shred we felt the ticking of the darkness closing in on all sides till gravity’s tsunami folded over into a tunnel a singularity that pulled us from shadow into darkness these times are a force of darkness that begets unforgiving darkness hear the violin kick delicate licks of suspended hope dangling over the percussion on gossamer threads the propulsive beat sways them so they dance like moths careening towards the lamplight they are dumb and dumb founded caught in a trance like an addict seeking their one true love liminal spaces extruded into scattered light and fog we are surrounded by strange animals crouching in the trembling shadows and so we wait

The Brother and The Sister couldn’t see him yet. They couldn’t see much at all: their senses were still adjusting. Although they had been here many times this was, thankfully, not their usual dimension: it was filled with acrid smells and listless currents, it was small and abstract, like a familiar prison cell. There was something almost quaint about the size of this planet.

Quaint but not at all pleasant. The air was thick and choked with grot; it wreaked of decay; the sky was a cesspit, even the clouds were chemically tainted. The Brother and The Sister wondered what it would be like to live on the ground, close to the source of the disease.  This place lacked true energy and freedom.

The Fang hung in the cold grey air, high above the ugly stone and metal construction. None of the humans looked up, even if they had it wouldn’t matter: the human creatures beetled about their daily lives oblivious to the realms surrounding them, they barely noticed their own. The Fang remained shrouded.

Next to the structure, large multi-coloured metallic tubes rattled by, each one on wheels attached to metal lines embedded in the dank ground. Some of the metal tubes rushed past at an almost delicious speed, the air whirling around them causing fragments of dirty human ephemera to dance in their trailing vortex. 

Other metallic tubes slowed down as they approached the far side of the building and stopped. Through the holes in the side, The Brother could see humans squashed against each other and the sides of the tube, each one trying to smile and be civil but he sensed that they would rather fight each other to the death.

The Sister called out and gestured to the building’s entrance and there he was, tonight’s Prize and in that instance, the distant music began…

the prize will be running soon enough

we                  

must                           

hunt                

the violins kick with delicious pyrotechnic repetition

glissandos avariciously chipping away

then the hungry percussion builds like a wave

 the greedy rhythm of his footfall in the echoing streets

and the bridges of ancient wisdom turned sour

growling cellos grind low and ominous

is this the pursuer?

is this the man?

is it us or a sad devil come to show us the way to a cathedral door?

time is present

it is fractal

it is darkness itself

it colours our thoughts like notation lost to pain and indecision

like the distant call of the horns

can you hear the whispers?

the longing cries?

the desolate yearning?

the strings will sweep him away

 a single vibrato note sustained on gravity’s crest

away and away and away

till he is down in the depths

the pits and the pot holes

the darkness

the solitude

suddenly he has all the time in the worlds

it is piled up around him in

a cavern of clocks and faces and spinning hands

minutes seconds hours days and millennia

all piled high with relentless knowledge

ticking with foresight

it doesn’t serve you now

now you must survive

and in the hallways the drums beat out a hideous tempo

a waltz for the damned a tango for insanity

the final flourish

a charade really

a game of fallacy and fallibility and fable

you’ll lose the game eventually we all will

or we’ll win another chance should you

in this life at least

think such a thing is possible

what are the odds of being reincarnated into a being that doesn’t believe in reincarnation

and time is restless in the half-light

the clocks are ticking again

always with the tick, tick, tick, tick, ticking

with the relentlessness of an atom

they can’t stop though they have tried many times

clock works run like clockwork and the damned spring never falters

they want to oh so much they wish they could

just for a second

rest for just one measly second

Please?

Please!

Pretty please?

The Man struggled to stand; his thighs burned, his calf muscles were wracked with cramp and his feet numb. He’d run from the cold concrete plaza of the City Terminus to the silence of the Bridge of Trees and back round to the River Church to try and evade them but he had found no sanctuary. They had worn him down.

It felt like he had been running for a lifetime.

But he could see them all now.

Through the hole in the roof of the abandoned clock-shop The Fang circled above him, their scales glinting iridescent in the moonlight. They dazzled like the stuff of legend and bewildered like endless childhood therapy sessions. Just as in his dreams their eyes were swirls of colour and dancing light, beautiful and brutal as his nightmares. He would never have thought to see gravity’s children riding the earth-bound winds above the City of Forts.

The Man smiled, “You two should stop hiding in the shadow. I can see you too. Do not fear, for I will have need of your skills soon enough.”

The Faerie slowly emerged from behind the grandfather clock, tension held their delicate wings tight and ready, their knives were out.

“You did well to keep up, I am impressed.”  

How does he know us, see us, hear our music?

“Is that, The Sister?” The Man looked up into the whirling mass of dragon. “I’m not sure how. I can remember only snatches, it’s like pulling a dream through a sock… I know you are The Sister; he is The Brother.

I’m afraid I don’t know your names,” he turned to the Faerie, “But I know your Family and its gift for song and I have need of it.”

“Be careful what you wish for, human,” the older Faerie stepped forward. “I am Jynn an Elemental Song Master; you have no conception of our power. And who are you to ask our names?”

The Man frowned then held a finger to his lips. Slowly he pointed to the dusty window. The Fang had ceased their motion, they hung poised in the space above the shop, coiled and ready. Nausea rippled through Jynn’s wings as she turned to follow The Man’s finger. In the shadows beyond the display of cobweb strewn clocks, on the other side of the dirty, broken window the last of The Many became The One. The nebulous figure stood in the moonlit street pulsing with the darkest anger.  

The Man looked at Jynn, fear and hope behind his tired eyes. Above them The Fang bristled in the cold night air. The Many moved silently toward the window, a darkness expanding into shadow. The Many and the window began to shimmer, vibrating together finding the right resonance. 

Jynn’s wings shimmered and she disappeared. Reappearing a moment later on The Man’s left shoulder.

“I’ll do what I can Human,” she whispered in his ear. “But remember this, you are the Prize and nothing more.

I am Jynn, an Elemental Song Master of the Family Collector. I claim this human creature as my Prize. I make my mark.” Jynn sliced her mark into The Man’s cheek with her knife.

“All others must now concede.”

The Many did not stop.

The Man staggered backward, facing the ghostly shape in the window, his back hit the counter. His hand scrabbled across the dusty top finding the reassuring hardness of a screwdriver. Jynn readied herself and looked to the grandfather clock; Peck looked back at Jynn as her wings shimmered and Peck blinked away only to reappear at the window’s edge. Jynn called out but Peck was already reaching out to the grimy glass.

She placed her ear to the dusty surface, followed by her right hand. Peck sensed The Many already starting to penetrate the glass, vibrating it to a sickening rhythm. She closed her eyes, took in a calming breath and sang to the glass. Its answer was loud and caustic and scared: what The Many was doing was a violation.

Then let me teach you how to fight back!

Peck focussed her attention and pressed her fingers harder onto the glass. She could feel The Many were close, mere atoms away her own skin and bone. She reached deeper into the glass, feeling the duet of limestone and soda ash and below that, in almost perfect counterpoint, the song of the sand. She exhaled and joined the two songs in her fingertips, they danced and wove round and round each other until there was a moment of brilliant harmony and Peck’s mind filled with piercing sound.

The window buckled and cracked; jagged lines radiated out from Peck’s hand in fractal fault lines that spider walked across the dusty pane. The glass ceased to be solid exploding into a multitude of flying shards.

“Peck!” screamed Jynn as the Human ducked behind the grandfather clock.

Silence filled the room. Shards glinted in the weak light; some littered the floor; some were embedded in the walls and the display of clocks. The Many were gone. Jynn held Peck in her arms, head bowed in silent prayer.

“Is she alright?” asked The Man.

“She breathes,” whispered Jynn.

We need to leave here. The Sister circled overhead; The Brother flew higher watching over the city. No one from a Family has attacked another member of a Family before. Ever!

However, The Many acted unlawfully. Clearly, they were not first to the Prize. Yet, they did not concede.

My brother and I need time to think.

“They knew who I really was,” said The Man. “That is why they did not concede.”

Jynn looked up into the human’s dark eyes, “Who are you?”

“My name is Emyr,” his smile fading at the sound of police sirens getting closer. “Where do we go then?”

The Sister grinned, We know a place.