Song and Rhythm

It was a simple tune, yet grand in its intensity, notes ascendant and powerful.

Soft yet resolute words drifted from the machine, in a language Wanderer had not yet encountered but possessed a simple and eloquent tone, almost poetic as each word melded into the next.

“Rhokhe-lerhon-messheromo-sedlekbhe-spuwlophat-weron”, the dancer sang, its voice slightly muffled by the walls of the box it was emanating from.

A wave of triumphant power overcame Wanderer, the triumphant tune and poetic words of the intricate contraption infecting their soul and inspiring them, making them feel they could take on the world and remain unharmed.

The music quickly died down, acquiring a sombre tone and melancholy feeling which the Vessel adopted in turn, unable to resist the allure of its sound.

“Phrukhe-honluhon-sedlkbhe-merophat-merophat-keromo-mereon”, it continued, and although Wanderer could not comprehend what the elegant dancer was saying, they could feel in every fibre of their being what the porcelain woman meant, the emotions emanating through their voice.

“Someone they love, died”, Wanderer knew, though they could not fathom how.

"Is this what it feels like for those left behind”, they pondered, and realised, while they had often contemplated their own demise, the death of their friends had never appeared in their mind, let alone how they would feel without them.

“I don't know if I cou-”

The Vessel never got to finish their thought, forcibly ripped out of their musing by a confused and startled shout coming from the back of the carriage.

Attracted by the sound, the man who was once upon the invisible steed had inspected the source of the anomaly, and thankfully, seemed to be too shocked by the Golem’s appearance to take any kind of action.

Half shocked themself and unable to think of a good plan to escape, the Vessel snapped the music box shut and sprinted toward the exit, snatching Emio from their perch in the process.

Perhaps Wanderer had overestimated the merchant's prowess, but the poor man had only barely enough time to leap out of the way before the Golem barrelled past.

Not even looking back at the shocked man they had nearly crushed, Wanderer stashed the small box in their satchel and disappeared over a nearby dune.

They sprinted into the desert as fast as they could and only stopped when the still unbearable heat demanded they do so, and the unhappy verdestry still clinging to their arm.

They collapsed in the dark sand, sending out a great crunch in all directions, and remained there until the sun overhead demanded they remove themself from its direct influence.

They got up again, finding the desert slightly cooler than it had once been, just enough that the Golem could think, yet not enough for them to be comfortable.

They dusted themself off and looked around, hoping to find somewhere to escape the heat once again and found that the carriage had made good time, Wanderer likely to be able to reach the small city before the sun would set.

The greater question, however, was if they wanted to visit it.

Almost every interaction the Golem had had with humans resulted in either anger, fear or aggression and they were unfortunately quite confident that any further run-ins would be quite the same.

How then, could Wanderer possibly enter the city without being driven out, or even worse, killed?

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“Maybe I will come up with a plan when I get closer”, the Golem predicted, after all, the city was almost exactly in their path to the ancient graveyard, so they might as well pass by.

Yet all this contemplation of future roots did not help their current predicament, that of the vicious sun that was still bearing down upon them.

They quickly surveyed the surroundings, and found, as they unfortunately expected, that the desert lived up to its name and there was very little around.

Only a few slabs of lizard-covered glass and scraggly cacti spattered the otherwise desolate surroundings.

Of course, the great mesas still towered toward the edge of the desert, but the carriage had taken the Vessel away from them and now the city was closer than the nearest of the spires of rock, so they had no chance to escape to the previously close monoliths.

It was then that the Golem was hit with a brilliant idea, bringing out the hastily stashed music box, they opened it up and began to wind the little handle, the dancer resuming their dance and picking up their song where they left off.

Yet though beautiful, the art of the dancer was not what the Golem awakened her for, instead wishing to utilise her magical prowess.

Once again, tiny icy runes appeared in the air, freezing the woman’s dress and making it glitter in the sun, but more importantly, the magic cooled the air around them.

It was only a light breeze and the smallest drop in temperature, but it was enough to soothe much of the Vessel’s woes.

Once again, Wanderer fell into the notes and melodies of the dancer, meandering toward their destination as they did, just appreciating the music they had been torn from and the emotions and feelings that arose from within them.

After a short time, the Golem noticed that the music began to loop, yet the song was still fresh in their mind, and so they rested and listened again to the emotional tune.

Partway through the third repeat, the mesmerisation the song had caused had faded enough for Wanderer to have a brilliant thought.

“What if I make my own music”.

Even to them, it was a foreign concept, all music they had known before the advent of the music box was that of the birds of the forest and wails of the sky-whales.

But the music of the porcelain dancer was different, it was grand and perfect, and held meaning and purpose, a far cry from the animalistic songs of the critters of the sky.

They almost chided themself for their hubris, how could they could hope to replicate the perfect notes and melodies of the music.

But then again the Golem considered, what prevented them from making their own song?

It was then that Wanderer remembered, and cursed, an all crucial element, they lacked a mouth with which to sing.

Dreams shattered before they could truly begin, the Golem wallowed in their incapability, hurt that they may never replicate the beauty of the dancer for themself.

Yet, as they so often did, their Spirit spoke words of wisdom.

They claimed that, while they may very well be unable to sing like the porcelain woman, there may be alternatives that could fulfil their hopes.

They drew the Vessel’s attention to the music box and the sound it emitted, drawing them to focus not on the vocals, but the background music which bolstered them.

Slowly, Wanderer came to realise that the notes and melodies were not human voices, and not the cries of animals either, it was something else entirely and they weren't sure what.

They asked their Spirit, who was looking on proudly as they puzzled out the answer, yet they refused to tell the Golem, instead wishing them to work out the same conclusion they had come to.

“If it is not animals, and it is not humans”, the Vessel puzzled, “Then perhaps... It is objects that make those sounds!”.

Too enthused by their discovery to even thank their guide, they immediately began to try and find objects that could be used as instruments.

They were disappointed to find that all they could use in their surroundings were unpalatable as a tool of music, but nonetheless, they made do and settled on two particular sounds for their orchestra.

After experimentally hitting and tapping almost everything in the vicinity, (including an experimental tap on Emio which begot a swift and viscous retribution), they eventually narrowed down two percussion instruments they had on their person, the dull thud of their leather satchel and the higher slap of their hand on their own thigh.

In moments, they were beating a rhythm, a travelling song they called it, and picked up pace on their journey, lost in the throughs of rhythm.

After a while, they even closed the music box, its conflicting melody affecting their own and the sun having fallen enough that the heat was bearable.

And so, with the force of a thousand songs bearing them forward, the Golem and their friends came to approach the great gates of the city just as the sun began to fall.

And as they arrived, they promised themself one thing.

“I will get myself an instrument”.