Ch: 85 The Caves Of Altamira

On an early spring evening, a strange group watched from the edge of a clearing, as a band of young musicians put on a show. In the center, a thin wooden tray rested on the stoney soil, with a thick disk of soft clay on top.

The damp earth was inscribed with a dizzying array of spiraling, complex shapes and glyphs. The whole arrangement was encircled by a tiny fence of spider silk, strung on little pegs driven in the ground.

“...Ivy, Gimme a beat.” He coached her through the deceptively simple track and into its complex changeups. “Ok guys, Fsharp minor, Steely Dan is tricksey, watch for the key changes on the chorus. Stay with Ivy, she’s driving while I… get up to… things.”

The music spread out across the hills and slipped into the gathering darkness gently. No wildlife answered this time, the slow, lonely music reached for other beings, other thoughts and ideas.

As the band took the music in hand, Gary lit a twig from a lantern nearby and ignited his miniature bonfire. The flickering shadows of its small light cast shadows across the limestone cliff face. Dancing figures thrown by his tiny mannikins moved in sudden leaps and dashes across the sheer wall of pale limestone.

He began to sing in a calm, melancholy drone as the sad, lonely mood spread. His dancing shadow joined the others, circling and crossing each other chaotically.

I recall when I was small

How I spent my days alone.

The busy world was not for me

So I went and found my own.

The wistful and lonely song wound its tendrils of music and story with the flickering fire and leaping shadows. Together, music and poem led the witnesses into a world of introspection.

I would climb the garden wall

With a candle in my hand.

I'd hide inside, a hall of rock and sand.

On the stone an ancient hand

In a faded yellow-green.

Made alive a worldly wonder

Often told, but never seen.

Now and ever bound to labor

On the sea and in the sky.

Every man and beast appeared

A friend, as real as I.

Faint wisps of smoke from the fire drifted over the foul clay tablet, seeming to swirl and whirl above its face. More smoke began drifting, as the wooden shingle the clay construct sat atop, began to smoke and char.

A scent of strange and exotic spices, mixed with burning flesh and the corruption of decay filled the clearing as something began to gather.

As they watched in mingled wonder, curiosity and confusion, the clay disk hardened, baking itself into a thick terracotta tile.

The tempo ticked up for the chorus, driving and strange. The lyrics made little sense to the watchers, bearing urgency and demanding, something about;

They heard the call,

And they wrote it on the wall…

His strange song slipped into its dreamlike pacing again as the magic built. Swirling smoke became a funnel cloud of dusky vapor above the strange tablet, as the shingle surrendered and crumbled away. The tablet fell to the stony soil with a puff of white ash. His strange song continued as Shai rose from her seat and joined the swaying dance before the bonfire.

Can it be this sad design

Could be the very same?

A wooly man without a face

And a beast without a name.

Talllum thumped along in a simple repeating bass line, slow and steady, in three four time as the song ended. At a signal from Gary, he kept his line rolling, while Ivy increased her tempo, becoming aggressive and driving hard.

The cyclone of smoke over the tile had become more violent and less opaque, a translucent vapor with hazy forms emerging within its chaotic spiral.

As Gary’s stratoblaster appeared in his hands, he spanked and muted the strings, clattering and strumming a strange, almost primitive tune. The madman began to croon again, in A minor. The spectral and haunting sound lingered strangely in the gathering night.

Shai’s violin wailed along softly, weaving a melody among the raw, naked music. Her chiming hips and swaying shadow filled the clearing with her subtle gift.

When I look out my window,

Many sights to see…

And when I look in my window,

So many different people to be.

That it's strange, sure is strange

The song was no stranger than any of his other mad tunes, the eerie feeling of looming and dreadful menace was coming from some other source. It lurked outside the ring of firelight and watching men and women. Even the prisoners felt the call, shrinking back in their bonds in animal fear.

When I look over my shoulder

What do you think I see?

Some other cat lookin' over

His shoulder at me.

And he's strange, sure, he's strange.

You've got to pick up every stitch

Oh no, must be the season of the witch,

Must be the season of the witch,

Yeah!

Must be the season of the witch…

The song ended with a sharp snap of Gary’s high E string. Its deathcry echoed across the hills for far longer than it should have, carried on the wings of darkling magic and existential dread.

“What did that all serve? Just wanted to put on a show?” Vera demanded in irritation as silence fell.

“Sure, just a show, you are not the audience though… our new ‘friend’ is the guest of honor.” He sneered the word like it tasted of rotting offal. “ Our ‘friend’ is going to answer my questions, then I will decide what happens to them.”

He tucked away his guitar and strolled over to the clay tablet beside the dying fire. “No body else speak, no side conversations, if you have questions, write them down and save them. No interference, period.”

He glared at the gathered people and spoke slowly and firmly. “A human life had to end to make this happen, so don’t screw it up.” His glare shifted to the restless prisoners. “Human sacrifice…”

On that note, he turned his murderous eyes on the clay tile. “Ok fucker, start talking now.” He barked at the object.

“Name.” He clapped his hands explosively, just once. The hard, sharp sound cracked against the stone wall and bounced back with a physical force.

From the shadows all around a hissing, whispering chorus of inhuman voices raised. “No name for you…” The soft, all pervasive sound faded away to silence.

“That’s one. Manifest yourself.” He demanded, clapping his hands twice after.

“No form have I for you, mortal.” Its slithering voice of madness cooed from all around, as the echoes of his handclaps carried on and on.

“Thats two. Speak your purpose here.” Three percussive, detonating reports blasted from his hands as the last word died.

Only silence answered his call. He waited for a few more seconds, then wrung his hands together in diabolical glee. “The hard way. Fine by me… Hear me spirit, fairly summoned by your own works and caught by the laws of this place, thrice I have commanded and thrice been denied. By the laws of the summer court you are mine.”

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A warm wind blew in from the west, rustling the trees and making the torches and lanterns of the watchers flicker and dance. The scent of night blooming jasmine and wild roses drifted across the clearing, bearing a sense of watching, ancient eyes.

“My trap was fairly placed and the bait taken. Thrice I commanded, thrice denied, by the laws of the winter court, you are mine.” An Icy, damp breath escaped the cave mouth, rolling along in a misty sheet at ankle level.

The low mist settled, chilling the feet of the witnesses and twining possessively around their legs.

“By the laws of man, you are a trespasser and criminal in this place, Order, Knowledge, Joy, Beast and Healer see your works and pass judgment. Under the laws of man, as cleric of the dead god, you are mine.”

Every instrument in the clearing thrummed with a single note, gentle and solemn, it rang out in overtones and returned as a whisper from the hills.

“Captured under the law, by dint of arms and with your own malice, the mark is cast.” He chanted crispy and with satisfaction.

He clapped his hands three times rapidly, as if dusting them off, then turned to his family and smiled.

“Ok, time to go home, I promised the kids we’d tuck them in. Grandpa Harlan and brother Otho must be exhausted by now.”

He bent and picked up the wooden pegs and their silken rope, then the thick terracotta tile. He slipped them into nowhere and began clearing away all traces of his art.

He put the tiny grass and stick figures in the coals of the bonfire and buried the lot with dirt as they burned. His remnants and scraps went into the brush and woods, scattered far and wide.

Finally, he pulled that broom out of his ass again and swept his ring of footprints from the trampled dirt. “I’m done, you folks ready? I wanna be home before last bell.”

The bemused and confused troupe packed their gear and tossed the prisoners on their own wagon, hitched their horses and readied to ride.

“How’s our Shepherd, Mykonos? I got caught up in my thing…” He asked while restringing his stratoblaster, on the move.

“He has been waiting by the road with Regis. He is well and wishes to accompany us back to town.” Tawny reported.

“He had a few lacerations and a head wound, Runningtree and I patched him up while you were… busy. What did that awful ritual do, anyway? It felt terrible and Healer was very put out over the whole performance.”

“You were hoping I’d pull a rabbit out of my hat or saw a lady in half? The real stuff isn’t flashy or showy…” He grinned like a lunatic and giggled.

“Tonight is like making a drum, quiet and a lot of careful work… tomorrow I’m gonna bang the living shit out of it… that’s when the ‘performance’ really starts.”

He tucked his restrung instrument under his arm and strummed a sweet chord. “Let’s get our shepherd and his friend and get home.”

They trundled down the overgrown cart track for a quarter mile, to the beat of something funky and improvisational. In a small clearing, they found the man and his familiar waiting, as promised.

A rude person might say that Mykonos was unremarkable. He had short, curly, dark hair going gray, a neatly trimmed beard and was wearing Gary’s clothes. He was a little shorter, about average height, a little stout and sleepy looking.

Regis was a big moose… a truly enormous moose, with a vast canopy of antlers, shaggy shoulders and the whole thing. He occupied the small clearing fully, bigger than any normal animal could be.

Annie looked hilariously small beside the tremendous being, only her confidence and style made up for the size difference. She nickered a greeting and called her herd to assemble when the humans showed up.

The party mounted up, while Gary climbed aboard the dog cart with Shai. Gary strummed a uke to spin his magic around Becky’s harp, letting her practice with his gift.

Her clear, bright notes scattered across the troupe, making hooves prance in anticipation. Mykonos sat on Regis’ shoulders, nearly twelve feet up grinning widely.

“What is that music, young lady? I never heard the like, save what I heard from the hills earlier…” He shuddered in horror. “This song I like!”

Ivy shook her head and started tapping on a snare, sitting in the back of the wagon with the prisoners. Tallum dropped his reins in the wagon seat and let Annie lead, so he could clap and stomp along. “I like this one too!” The giant rumbled.

Gary giggled madly from the cart bed and switched to a flute, while Shai’s violin began to sing along. Becky’s clear, sweet voice rose over the music, cutting through.

Travellin’… in a fried out kombi

On a hippy trailhead full of zombies,

“Becky, I love you kiddo.” Gary sighed between bars, while his kid sister went down a musical rabbit hole.

All the way back on the east road, Becky kept things light and lively. The roughly four mile journey covered a lot of ground, musically speaking. Whether disco or eighties pop, Becky had a taste for the upbeat numbers.

She practiced winding her brother’s crazy gifts around her friends and family, as they rode downslope, and through the outskirts of Wheatford, just a few miles off.

Mykonos and Regis split off, waving happily as the troupe entered town and quieted. The man and giant moose rode off, presumably for home, as the others rode through the gate.

In the court of War, Tony unloaded the prisoners and rolled the wagon into War’s stables. “We will determine the ownership of the wagon and horses within a few days. If they are valid spoils of battle, you will be notified.” The big knight turned and waved to the grooms.

“One of you, run get Rolf, he has the desk tonight, he gets to do the paperwork. Bring any loose brothers you see floating around, these four are a handful.”

The rest of the party slipped away before anyone could start handing out forms. Even in a largely illiterate society, the government produced, consumed and existed almost entirely on paper.

Eighth bell sang its sad, sweet song as the gang rolled through the Adventure gate, and up to the inn. They were still unsaddling and grooming the animals when Esperanza came bustily bustling in, with Amy and Wilford in tow.

“You collect new faces at an alarming rate boy, Sonja sailed with Esperanza, so count another guest in your hold. This one and her crew will stay aboard Esperanza for now, tied up at The town’s rickety dock.” She shoved the kids into their arms.

“This one is exhausted, take your abominable children, they were a great trouble and trial.” She said with a wink.

Amy started heating up to a full tantrum at the injustice of it all, until the sailor tickled her into giggling fits.

“Bedtime Amy. Tomorrow we have a lot to do.” Gary said softly, as he picked her up. “Becky, just how much of the music in my brain have you dug through? That was impressive.”

“You act like I can avoid it. Whatever I look for, I find a song about it first…” She shrugged her shoulders eloquently and took Wilford by the hand. “I’m done in, a girl needs her rest after witnessing horrifying occult rituals.”

“You didn’t even have to do the horrifying occult rituals… I really thought Vera was going to stick around for the whole thing.” He whispered over Amy’s sleeping form. “She is relentless.”

#

In the garden on the other side, those huge, bumbling bees were still buzzing around happily, visiting the blooms. Their hive still dripped ever so slowly into the crock below the swarming structure under his eaves.

“Beast never did explain what he did to me… any ideas what this is about, Ducky?” He asked sleepily, while laying on the lawn watching the bubbles in the sky gently sway in eldritch breezes.

“They were meant to smooth off some of your antisocial tendencies and even out your sudden emotional shifts… I don’t think it’s working.” The tiny god flopped down beside him to watch the sky, while the kids ran after Becky shouting about who may or may not be ‘it’.

“You are a very troublesome mortal, I think we are going to have to accept that fact.” He sighed happily. “I watched the ritual, nicely done, Gary. You should sleep, much remains to be done in the waking world.” Marduk reached over and tapped the young musician between the eyes. He vanished with the soft sound of a sleeper turning over.

“Would I could do that in the world of men…” Shai sighed wistfully. “Tis both my hands full and wi help from friends in all. What does he do wi that foul artifact? Tis nae work fit fer honest crafts…”

“That surprise is his to reveal, learn to enjoy a bit of mystery Shai, your life will be much less frustrating.”

“Ye will teach me this vile art… so that I may know ere he does sumat too mad fer words. I fear he is toying wi dangerous things.” She demanded softly.

“It is not ‘vile’, my child. Your bodies are an expression of your souls, pushing into the physical world. Everything that comes from you or becomes part of you can be spiritually and magically potent, if managed correctly.” He lectured, while rubbing his palms together in glee.

“Your bodies are a cornucopia of biological compounds, many of which can be manipulated and combined with interesting results…”

#

Marduk , God of Knowledge, blasted off into a lecture that spanned the vagaries of human biology and potential. He discussed evolutionary backroads and leftovers in horrifying detail, pointing out possible benefits and features.

“Nae Ducky, I dinnae wish tae grow gills, a prehensile tail, nor tae spit venom.” She frowned at the tiny god and pulled him into her lap. “What be all this Ducky?”

“You were my first human friend, Shai.. and you kept the boy alive and sane for me… I owe you so much… and now you are waking up again.”

Marduk stood from the couch he landed in when Shai vanished. “Thirp, help me figure out a gift fit for that woman, being her secondary deity is a trial.”

#

By second bell, the sun was fully up and a warm breeze began slipping through Wheatford’s streets, promising more springtime weather.

The people of the town were out and bustling, preparing for Spring festival. Already, bunting and pennants were on display, as were flower boxes in the house and shop windows.

Booths selling garlands of dried flowers competed with hand carts selling fresh cut flowers and potted plants from the local garden society's greenhouses for the coins flying about. The local bakers, tailors and seamstresses also hummed with activity. In contrast, much of the craft ward was strangely still, as though waiting for something to happen.

“Busy spring…” Leopold said happily. He and Celeste were enjoying a simple breakfast with Tawny, Shai, Becky and the kids, while Gary worked his mysterious arts in the back of the garden.

From the front room they watched the people flowing past the Adventure gate, no few coming inside.

Faint whiffs of chocolate drifted on the breeze, as a burly young man in a green cap pulled a hand cart, loaded heavily and tied off with a concealing tarp, down into the lower levels. Other orphans were busy scampering to and fro, many wearing the brown flat caps as well.

Celeste watched the doings with mild disinterest and a bored expression. “Whatever does he have planned Trelawny? It looks as though he’s preparing for a musical recital… we are busy people, daughter.” She chided Tawny in the way only a mother can.

“I can assure you, come what may, there will probably be at least one musical number. That is the price you pay for having a mad wizard on retainer.” Tawny said smugly as only a daughter who has her mother on the back foot can.

“We can also be certain that without our work… Gary’s work, Wheatford would currently be buried under a writhing mass of acidic scrotal skin, being slowly digested.” Her beautiful lips turned down in disgust.

“Ivy says the entity they planned to summon is a single predatory genital demon, the size boggles the mind…” Tawny blushed a rich coppery color in embarrassment. “I believe it was meant to send a message… Gary intends to send a sharply worded reply.”

“Aye, this art is strange and does nae seem potent at first glance, there be some strength tae it despite simple appearances. I fear we shall all see sumat of it today.”

Shai sipped her tea and watched her man bustle in his screened off corner of the yard, with a worried look on her face.

#

The sunny back corner of the garden had chairs and sofas scattered about, in a loose semi circle around an open space and a small wooden platform. A table loaded with snacks, tea and coffee stood nearby, draped with a white sheet.

On the platform, surrounded by a ring of runes and mystic inscriptions drawn in chalk, wax and Gary’s blood, sat the strange red-brown clay tile.

Gary strolled over to the breakfast group and smiled happily. “Dannyl says he’ll take you down to the docks to visit Falco and Esperanza, kids. Run get ready, be good and listen to your older brother. We have boring grownup stuff to talk about.”

“Ducky says you are doing something gross again… miss us with that.” Amy sassed him while Wilford nodded along.

“Dirty.” Wilford pronounced, solemn and pitiless as the freezing depths of the sea. He took his sister’s hand and followed Dannyl and Otho the dog into the house to get dressed to go out.

“Even my kids have no respect for my craft…” He mourned, while sitting down to join the meal. “Vera was all over me Leo, I need space to work or this situation is going to be unsustainable.” He said offhandedly, while piling his plate with toasted biscuits drizzled with honey.

“The whole selling me as a slave thing, it stresses our working relationship. I still have yet to finalize our last few contracts… then there is the matter of my artifacts that master Mikkel put up for auction…” He sipped his coffee while Leo smiled blandly and Celeste fumed openly.

“I don’t think money is motivating you, until I find out what is, money will have to do.” He placed a small pouch on the table beside Gary's sticky plate.

“Proceeds from the auction, and payment for outstanding contracts.” He said smugly. “House Belen and the duchy thank you for your services and look forward to a fruitful relationship.” Leo smiled with genuine warmth.

“I never liked Zygnos, never trusted him and gods those pranks… you I like even less, boy.” Celeste said sweetly. “You bring disorder to my home and my lands, disrupt my family and even distress my deity… whatever my husband says or does is immaterial.” The frosty glare she shot at the burly man in the false mustache was impressive.

“I expect a level of decorum and professionalism from the members of my daughter's entourage…”

Tawny coughed and sputtered suddenly, distracting the duchess mid-scold. “Mother…” She giggled biscuit crumbs into her napkin, desperately trying to keep herself composed. “Gary is currently under the eye of lady Joy. Cowl’s gaze has been fixed on him for so long, we should count ourselves fortunate the town still stands. For multiple reasons.” She dabbed her lips delicately and smiled with serene pleasure. “You cannot have a mad wizard without the madness. I suspect we shall be reminded of that fact shortly.”

The other Bathers, along with Mikkel, Otho, Amicus, Tony, all the Sparrowhawks, Nara and even ancient Naomi, all filtered into the garden and took seats while they talked.

“On that note, it looks like all the guests are here, let's get things started.” He stood and ambled over to the odd group, milling about in the sunshine with a happy smile. “It’s a garden party, the guest of honor is coming soon, shhh, it’s a surprise...”