Mickie had officially had enough of trekking through tunnels. For a circle as open as the seventh was, it seemed he had spent a significant portion of his time up here stuck under piles of rock. Although, he had to admit, the bone passage felt less like a natural cave than the inside of some massive beast. From the disturbing warmth of the chalky ground to the eerie way everything vibrated minutely, it was as if the tunnel were alive. With every step he took deeper into the passage, Mickie came that next increment closer to giving up the whole endeavour. Visions of the walls and ceiling constricting to crush him were offset only by the growing march of coaxing music. The Kindle Kin were close now, he could not afford to falter.
For all that it felt like he had been walking for hours, it did not actually take Mickie long to reach the tunnel’s end. He stepped into a small cave that rang with the song of the Kin. It was an empty space, rounded to the point of being near spherical, and made up of that same, strange bone. It was also a complete and utter dead end. No paths led onwards, and no Kindle Kin were in sight. The voices of the grey singers might echo through living cave, but that was the only sign of their presence.
‘What in the nine? Kid, you see that?’
Something moved in the dark, catching Miz-Mag’s eye while Mickie examined the walls and ceiling.
‘See what? I…’
The branded man trailed off as he noticed a rather human-like outline against the far wall. It did not seem to be approaching, but rather shifting in place, swaying to the rhythm of the music.
‘Hello? Who’s there?’
No response. After sharing a wary glance with his partner Mickie held his lamp aloft and approached the silent dancer. Light soon fell upon the far wall, and the figured was revealed to him. It was bone, same as everything else in this accursed cave. A skeleton of a human, half fused to the cave wall so that it appeared to be breaching the cave like the surface of a white lake.
‘All right. Okay. Kid I’m not sure we want to go anywhere near that thing.’
Miz-Mag was rightfully wary of the swaying skeleton, but Mickie had come down here to find the Kindle Kin, and this was their only lead. Cautiously, he moved forward, deeper into the small cave. Closer to the swaying remains, Mickie could see clearly where its forearms and lower spine blended into the cave wall. Without any muscle or ligaments to hold the other bones in place, the remainder of the body should have been a heap on the floor. It was not without support, however. Threads of bleached white linked all remaining bones to the wall like a puppet with uncountable strings. It was these that shifted to create a facsimile of swaying dance.
After observing the strange sight for a time, Mickie soon found himself meandering forward. For all that the odd bones were disconcerting, he did not feel overly threatened by them. Unlike the spines above, these remains seemed small and fragile, lacking the ability to grasp or chase him. He supposed the threads that controlled the body might be able to reach for him, by they too did not seem overly tough. Only one feature proved disturbing enough to give Mickie pause. The skull of the dancing bones appeared to be split open.
A nasty gash ran from the peak of the nose to the top of the rounded skull. The crack held a darkness that seemed more complete than that of the surrounding cave. Inky energy spilled forth in tiny wisps that curled and dissipated into the surrounding air like smoke. It left a trail of fading ink in the skull’s wake as the skeleton swayed gently back and forth.
With each step he took, Mickie paused for an instant, waiting for a reaction that never came. It was as if the Kindle Kin had trapped the bones in a trance with their song. The mortal stopped a couple of steps from the dancing oddity, taking a moment with Miz-Mag to trace the hypnotic line of smoky darkness.
‘Well kid? What now?’
The little fiend voiced Mickie’s exact thoughts.
‘I’m not sure…’
He ran his tongue along the front of his teeth.
‘Normally at this stage something’s trying to kill us. Makes the next move pretty obvious for the most part.’
Miz-Mag sighed dramatically.
‘I suppose so. Honestly, I expected this jolly pile of bones to wake up and bring down the ceiling on us. That crack in the head is a touch sinister.’
Mickie hummed his agreement and ran through his options. The Kindle Kin were close, perhaps in a separate tunnel to their own. That would mean they were likely digging their way up.
Except, he thought, that could not be right.
Even over the clammer of the singer’s music, excavation should be audible. Then there was the tone of their song, it was insistent, reassuring yet demanding. Like they were trying to persuade someone through song. Looking at the swaying pile of bones, Mickie was realising he had a good idea who that someone might be.
‘Uh kid, I know this fella’s dancing is mighty appealing, but aren’t you getting a little close for comfort?’
The branded man had taken another couple steps forward, bringing the skeleton with arms reach. This close he could see clearly how uncanny the crack in its head was. Something vast lay beyond the wisps of inky smoke, reminding Mickie somewhat uncomfortably of the abyss beneath the ninth circle.
‘I think I know how to get the Kindle Kin up here.’
He said in response to Miz-Mag’s uncertain query.
‘Oh? Do tell.’
‘Well, we know from experience the bone can move, right?’
‘How could I forget?’
The demon muttered glumly.
‘So, what if it’s the bone itself blocking the passage, and what we’re hearing is the Kindle Kin trying to convince it to open up?’
It made sense to Mickie, but his partner did not seem so certain.
‘I’m sorry, what was that?’
‘Think about it.’
The branded man continued, growing ever more confident in his theory.
‘We know that the Sovereign had been hearing music for a while, which means the Kin have been stuck here for some time. If they were digging or fighting, we’d probably hear some of it, even over the music. I haven’t noticed anything like that. Not so much as a peep since getting to the ruins. That means their posted up nearby singing.’
‘Right.’
Miz-Mag dragged the word out slowly, taken aback by Mickie’s sudden fervour.
‘But singing’s kinda what the Kindle Kin do, kid. Doesn’t mean they’re trying to convince old boy here to open up.’
The little fiend waved an arm at the swaying skeleton. Mickie sighed, frustrated his partner was not getting it.
‘Look at the thing, Mag. Every other bone in this place is out for blood, all except this one. We come to the bottom of the ruins and find this thing dancing instead. I’m telling you, it’s the Kindle Kin. They’re trying to get it to open a passage.’
‘Uh huh, and why don’t they just dig a hole instead.’
‘Well, because…’
Mickie thought for a moment, but soon had a ready answer.
‘They probably don’t want to antagonise the bone growths. I bet it wouldn’t take too kindly to having someone chip away at it.’
‘Hmm, I guess.’
Miz-Mag reluctantly gave him the point but was not quite ready to fold.
‘So, let’s say for a moment that you’re right, and the Kin are singing their way onto the seventh. What are we supposed to do about it?’
Mickie tracked the skeleton as it swung back and forth, like a snake charmed by the song of a piper. Miz-Mag was not going to like his answer to that particular question. The branded man rolled his neck. It was a good thing then, that he was not overly fussed about the demon’s opinion on the matter.
‘Well, Ziz told us that the Kindle Kin were going to be here, which means it figured I’d be able to do something about it.’
He took a moment, stretching his injured hand and feeling a twinge of pain as the cut was pulled apart. Fresh blood dribbled along his palm and down his fingers.
‘Sure kid, that doesn’t answer the question of what though…’
Miz-Mag seemed to sense something was amiss, a hint of Mickie’s intent in the hardening of his voice.
‘Ziz also said I was the key, and that’s been true so far. Might as well give it a go here too.’
Mickie followed the skull of the puppeted skeleton, watching it trail darkness to one side, then back in an arch towards him. On his shoulder Miz-Mag was growing increasingly alarmed.
‘Yeah, but that was with the tower and an elevator, not…’
In a swift, fluid motion, Mickie reached up and grasped the cracked cranium with his injured hand. Blood met shifting darkness, and before the demon on his shoulder could react the mortal’s mind was swept away.
----------------------------------------
The human that had been Mickie experienced a sensation unlike anything Hell had yet provided. It was too soft to be pain, too fractious for comfort. A feeling wider and more expansive than any single emotion had the capacity to convey. His mind was split and split again, mingling with something far greater than he was. Voices arose, thousands of them, millions. Screaming, crying, laughing, shouting, whimpering, and generally making themselves known through the vast spectrum of human expression. Mickie was pulled into this maelstrom, a leaf into a hurricane.
The mortal tried to hold onto his purpose, his intent for touching that dark crack in the skeleton’s skull. Only, he had missed Amber’s birthday, and his husband was seeing the girl from the corner café, and if he could just have more of it then he would be whole. Countless minds touched upon his own, memories and thought’s intermingling with his own. They had no purpose, no rhyme or reason other than the fact of their existence. Mickie had dived headfirst into the ocean of souls absorbed by the bone woods over their countless millennia of existence, and he was drowning in it. The branded man did not even have the opportunity to try and swim, so rapid was he taken in. Still though, he was not immediately gone, his psyche was being pulled and stretched, but it was not an instant process.
Occasionally, enough of Mickie’s mind would collide that he got a chance to think, and for the most part, to panic. He had been so certain, assured that Ziz would not direct him here if he did not have the capability to reach the Kindle Kin. The branded man had gambled on that fact, and tried something monumentally foolish. He had not known what the dancing skull was, or what the ruins represented. Perhaps if he had, then he might have acted differently. Only, he was not sure what he had done to make dad so mad at him, nor if Helen liked him the way he liked her.
The storm of souls blew Mickie apart, and in doing so, carried in something new on their ceaseless winds. It was soft, soothing, asking something of his fractured soul that felt immensely important. It wanted him to open the way, asked the ocean inside the living bone to let it pass. Clarity hit as enough of Mickie fell back together. The Kindle Kin. It was their song, he could hear their song. He had been right; they were trying to get the bone to open the path. Only it was not working, not at anything that could be considered a reasonable speed. The Kin were attempting to dam a river with toothpicks. It would take far too long, Belphegor would pull Kalistra to pieces well before then. Unless, the fading parts of Mickie’s mind thought, the river allowed itself to be dammed.
When next he was pulled into innumerable pieces, the branded man took something with him. It was not a thought in the literal sense, as thoughts could not survive being torn into so many pieces. Instead, he took with him the simple desire to listen. To hear the music and do as it said. He was bleeding out on the floor of a warehouse, and he needed to open the way. He was slow dancing with the most beautiful man he had ever met, and he needed to open the way. He was leaping from a plane with adrenaline singing in his veins, and he needed to open the way. Mickie was a thousand different people, at a thousand different times, and in all of them, he listened to the music. Those fractured pieces of humanity touched upon others, opening ears to the plea of the song.
Somebody said they wouldn’t mind lending a hand. Another agreed, thinking it was good to be needed. In an ever-growing tide the message was heard and received, with the souls of the storm deciding to lend a hand. Through it all the fragments of Mickie swam, continuing to spread the song’s message, even as he fell further and further apart.
----------------------------------------
In a cave of made entirely of bone, a small demon was screaming curses at two figures. One was a mortal man, with olive skin, dark hair and hazel eyes. The other was a human skeleton, half fused to the wall and no longer swaying hypnotically from side to side. Mickie had done something he most certainly should not have when he grasped the cracked skull. From the moment flesh met cranium, both the bag of bones and the branded mortal had been locked in a quiet stalemate. Outwardly they were little more than statues, but Miz-Mag knew different.
‘Abyss riddled, blood spoiling, Cerberus shitin’, accursed dumbass.’
With little success, the fiend ranted as it tried to pry loose Mickie fingers from the silent skeleton. Every moment that past only served to make it all the more frantic. Miz-Mag could feel the changes as they occurred within Mickie, sense them through their interlocked souls. As the branded mortal’s mind grew ever more fractured, the spill over onto his soul was becoming stronger. Through their bond, Miz-Mag felt the insistent tug as something tried to rip Mickie’s soul from its own. Without their connection, the demon was doubtful the kid would even have lasted this long.
Soon though, the pull would be too great. Whatever was in that skull would rip its partner from his mortal shell and either kill or drag Miz-Mag with it. Not only that, but there was nothing the little fiend could do about it. Nothing except fight a losing battle against the ceaseless current.
When the change finally came, Miz-Mag had long given up any sign of physical effort. The demon was slumped on the shoulder if its companion, concentrating entirely on keeping the kid’s soul in his body. Barely noticeable over the song of the kindle kin came a grinding sound. It drew the fiend’s head up, and Miz-Mag looked blearily about the cave. Mickie had kept hold of the lamp in his free hand when he grabbed the skeleton, but the illumination was not perfect. The lines of his fingers bisected the light with sharp shadows, making it difficult for Miz-Mag to conduct a proper search.
The little fiend tried to zero in on the source of the noise, but it seemed near omnipresent. Somewhere within the stretch of wall connected to the skeleton was the best it could manage. Miz-Mag scowled mightily and dragged itself to its feet. The sound was growing, supressing even the ceaseless music of the Kin. Then the little fiend saw it, a shift in the bone of the wall. Almost imperceptible at first, but growing more apparent as the grinding grew ever louder. Drawing away from the contained skeleton like parting curtains, the cave began to melt away. A tunnel was forming before Miz-Mag’s eyes, one which led deeper into the dark. Soon, all that remained of the cave wall was a single bleached pillar, to which the skeleton was still fused.
Eventually the grinding stopped, and when it did the song of the Kindle Kin soon followed. The abrupt silence left Miz-Mag’s ears ringing, and it took the demon a moment to realise what that meant.
‘Kid, you did it! Whatever stupid shit you decided to pull it worked!’
The fiend darted along its companion’s arm to begin work on his fingers once more.
‘You can come back now. Come on, job’s done.’
It was over, it had to be. Only, the accursed skeleton had not relinquished Mickie’s mind. The pair remained locked together, even as the newly forged silence was broken by the tromp of footsteps.
‘I thought you said it was going to take a while Con? That can’t have been more than a few days.’
A voice echoed up the tunnel, weathered and vaguely familiar. Miz-Mag turned from its efforts with Mickie’s fingers to see a light bobbing its way up the passage.
‘Yes, the process began accelerating exponentially not long ago. I believe something assisted us in penetrating the roots.’
The reply came in a softer voice, one that Miz-Mag recalled from their time within the palace. Sure enough, coming into view down the slope of the tunnel was the hunched figure of a Kindle Kin. Long arms, stubby legs, and bulbous eyes that were clouded over with the veil of the blind. The Conductor. Beside the old singer walked an equally aged mortal, one who started as he noticed the light coming from Mickie’s lamp.
‘Hold for a moment, something’s up ahead.’
With a gesture the pair slowed, and two hulking figures thudded their way forward to take the lead.
‘A touch overdramatic, Karsus. Did you not hear me say they were aiding us?’
‘We cannot risk your safety Con, you know that.’
Lamplight fell upon two hulking metal hybrids, fusions of steel and grey flesh that filled Miz-Mag with a kind of foreboding nostalgia. He had spent many an hour in the halls of Administration with these hulking guards. The new arrivals approached the little demon’s cave, and Miz-Mag felt hope spark in its weary breast. They had done it, and the Conductor itself was coming. Surely a creature as old as that knew some way to pull Mickie from the skeleton’s skull.
The two hybrids were the first to notice who awaited them within the bone cave. They came to a stop beside Mickie and made a sound like a cement mixer choking on some gravel. One of the giants reached a metal arm towards the trapped mortal and Miz-Mag darted out of the way, grinning. It might not be able to pull its partner free, but surely one of these monsters could manage it.
‘Stop! Do not touch him!’
It was the craggy voice of the old man, Karsus, cracking like a whip as he pushed between the two hybrids. The metal giant froze, clawed fingers about to curl around Mickie’s wrist.
‘Can you not see he is communing with the roots? To force him free now would do far more harm than good.’
Miz-Mag cursed. Far more harm than good? Could this old fellow not tell that Mickie was about two steps from having his soul ripped from his body? Then again, the demon mused, maybe that was the point. Karsus had not exactly been their biggest fan back in the ninth circle. There was a low hum from behind the two hybrids, and the pair took a sudden step back. If Miz-Mag was not mistaken, they seemed a little embarrassed.
‘It is faint, but if I’m not mistaken, this is a rather familiar song, is it not?’
The blind conductor said, turning its milky eyes towards Mickie as if to examine him.
‘Yep, it’s familiar alright, and our friends here almost cut his music short.
Karsus responded grouchily, giving the two hybrids a dirty look.
‘Yes, you will have to forgive them. We Kin tend to be uncharacteristically overzealous when it comes to the Song Spinners.’
‘I’ve noticed. Now, by all the stinkin’ circles, hurry up and help the blighter!’
Miz-Mag felt another painful tug at its soul and shouted an ineffectual plea at the blind singer. For its part, the conductor seemed to be examining Mickie in its own way. Low ululating humming came from the Kindle Kin leader, striking something deep within the little demon.
‘How strange it is, that we should meet the Spinner again, and here of all places.’
‘Yes well, that is a bit suspicious, but unless something is done soon, I’m not sure we’ll get to ask him the how of it.’
Karsus muttered, shifting his attention from the statuesque mortal to the broader chamber.
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
‘Will you lot be able to do anything?’
Miz-Mag had failed to notice, fixated as it had been on the Conductor and Mickie, that the cave was gradually filling with Kindle Kin. Metal hybrids and stubby creatures of flesh were now lining the walls, their attention glued on the mortal and the skeleton.
‘Perhaps, but Mickie has sunk deep into the roots, it will be upon him to take hold of any line that we cast.’
The Conductor seemed pensive, still humming that low ululation. Another twinge from deep within had Miz-Mag gasping, folded against its partner’s shoulder.
‘Yeah, great. Please get on with it.’
Almost as if the had heard the little fiend, the Kindle Kin began to sing. It started out slow, little more than an oscillating tone that vibrated off the cave’s bone walls. As time went on, however, meaning began to fold into the music. Miz-Mag sensed recollection, acuity and unification. It felt the call to return, gathering weight as it was spun together by the grey singers. The Conductor guided the melody, shaping it like a baker might fold and knead dough. Miz-Mag felt the impulse of the music, and a surge of hope answered from within itself.
‘This is it, kid. Come back or we’re both toast.’
The blind leader of the Kin raised an arm, and the song swelled into a cresting wave. It hung there for a moment, promise and tension on a razors edge. Then the Conductor’s arm fell, and the music went with it. The call thundered downwards, crashing into Mickie and the twisting storm of fragmented thoughts and intentions. It flowed deeper and deeper, down to where the fading remains of the mortal’s psyche struggled to hold on.
----------------------------------------
Mickie was fading. The realisation came to him in whenever enough of his fractured mind managed to piece together a rational thought. In spreading the Kindle Kin’s song, he had delved too far into the storm of souls, and now it had its hooks in him. He had completed his task, had felt the moment when the collective consciousness of the hurricane opened the passage. Now the song had ceased, and Mickie did not know where he was or where to go.
Memories of lives other than his own bombarded him, and it was becoming difficult for Mickie to remember who he was and why he held such a terrible feeling of dread. The branded man brushed against another soul and wondered why he was unhappy, he was one of the youngest CEO’s in his country. Another had him giggling as he led a group of mortals, naked and in chains. Every time it got harder to think, harder to remember. He was huddled in an alley, desperate for just a little bit more. Then he was dancing in room full of strangers, to music that did not match his movements.
Clarity abruptly returned as enough of his mind crashed together for coherent thought. For a blessed few moments, Mickie was able to think. Through the churn of souls and bubbling panic, the branded man recalled that last memory. Of music that did not fit the dance, music, that was even now still ringing through his thoughts. For a moment Mickie listened, and in the song, he heard a call. It was not a request of the soul storm, but one tailored just for him.
“This way”, it seemed to say, “you need to come back.”
Mickie grasped the melody like a lifeline, even as he was once more pulled asunder. As he had with the first song, the branded man now spread this new music. He needed to cast a net, reel himself back in with the Kindle Kin’s new call. Only, he was drowning in murky water and should not be capable of hearing such a wondrous tune. Then, he was holding his glistening guts and wondering why he could hear music. With nothing but the song and his intent, the fragments of Mickie’s mind spun back out into the storm.
Gradually, he spread the threads throughout the storm, and the souls were willing to carry his word with them. The branded man was clambering up a mountainside, wondering where that music was coming from. He was sitting in a plain meeting room, asking if someone’s phone was ringing, though the ringtone was rather strange. Mickie turned to his fellow fiends, and told them he had to go, someone was calling for him.
When the mortal’s mind next came back together, it no longer separated. The fragments of his consciousness were endowed with momentum now, and with each moment Mickie’s thoughts grew clearer. The Kindle Kin’s song was more than just a heading. By taking it, he was able to move through the storm in such a manner that had not been possible before. It was a lifeline that was being pulled from both directions, assisting him in his escape.
The disparate souls impact lessened as Mickie recollected himself. With a consciousness that was less fractured, he was better able to discern the foreign memories from his own. When the final piece of his psyche was dragged back into place, it was with a visceral kind of pleasure. Mickie had endured the scattering induced by the storm, but in no way had it been pleasurable. Whole again, the branded man shifted himself entirely towards the task of escape.
In this realm of mind and soul he had no body, yet Mickie could have sworn the music grew louder the closer to freedom that he came. He felt the storm clearing around him, the brush of other minds growing less frequent. So close to comprehensible reality that he could almost taste it, Mickie gave one last monumental effort. There was a brief, final resistance, and he snapped free from the realm within the skeleton’s split skull.
Mickie’s mind came back to his body with such force it was physical. A headache bloomed like a spiked flower as he staggered backwards. Every part of his brain ached, from the tip off his spine to the back of his eyes. Something stopped him as he almost collapsed to the floor, an object as solid as a wall. Arms like the prongs on a forklift caught him around both biceps and assisted him in straightening up.
Turning, Mickie discovered that he was having trouble seeing his helper. The world was a swirling mass of grey, black and white that left him disoriented. Not only that, but his hearing seemed to have fled too. The song, which had been so distinct moments ago, had morphed into a whining mess. Mickie straightened up and took a moment to centre himself. This was just the aftereffects of splitting his mind from his body, it would pass.
With his eyes closed, the first sense to return to Mickie was sound. It came from all around in the form of a low, insistent hum. There was a rhythm to the noise, not quite a melody but something close to composed.
‘Hey! You listening?’
The squeaky voice paired with a painful jab in the side of Mickie’s neck. Hissing, the branded man opened his eyes to find a red face inches from his own.
‘Accursed kid. You’re going to drag us both to the abyss one of these days, I swear.’
Mickie worked his tongue across dry lips.
‘Yeah… right.’
Now that his eyes were open, the mortal had noticed where the humming was coming from. All around him were Kindle Kin, metal and flesh both, they crowded about the bone cave. Mickie glanced back to find one of the hybrids, arms of dark steel ready to catch the woozy human if he fell again. The giant noticed his attention and made a sound like two spinning sawblades colliding.
‘Thanks.’
Mickie muttered in response. He had known that his plan was successful, had felt the moment that storm of souls set to opening the way. Yet it was one thing to know, and another entirely to see. A small Kin nearby seemed to take his gaping as distress. It reached a three fingered hand up and gently grasped his arm. Vibrations ran through the singer’s long limb to gently shake Mickie, and there was something soothing to their frequency.
‘Come now, give the Spinner some space.’
The Kin lowered its arm from Mickie and stepped back beside its peers. Freed from the clutches of the diminutive creature, he turned towards the familiar voice to find the Conductor.
‘You will have to forgive them, Mickie. The Kin owe you much, and it was distressing for them to find you communing with the roots.’
Still recovering from having his mind split into uncountable pieces, Mickie found himself unable to provide a sensible response. He made to speak, broke into a cough, and tried again.
‘Yeah I… what’s this about roots?’
The conductor smiled in his general direction.
‘I can imagine you have had quite the experience. Perhaps we should leave this cave before we speak. There are some questions I would have answered and, I’m certain, some I must answer in turn.’
Mickie gave a vague nod of acquiescence, and the blind leader strode forward towards the cave’s exit. Beside the Kindle Kin was an old man he recognised as Karsus; a supporter of the Kindle Kin Mickie had first met when skulking about the ninth circle. He recalled the aged mortal had wanted him dead after the fight with the Mechanist, and kept a wary eye on him as they walked through the parting Kin.
The singers hummed at him as he went, but did not crowd or follow as a pair of hybrids led the way out of the cave. They came to a stop in the eerie stone building that marked the entrance to the bone tunnel. It was not the most idyllic place for a chat, but to go any further would put them outside with the moving spines. The Conductor must have put the word out, because apart from the pair of hybrids, no other singers followed them up.
‘Now, if you would be so kind as to answer a few questions?’
The blind singer spoke with a calm surety that was not at all reflected in Karsus’ craggy features.
‘What kind of fool tries to commune with something like the roots? I’m honestly amazed you lasted long enough for the Kin to drag you back out.’
Mickie gave the older man an irritated look.
‘I knew what I was doing.’
From his shoulder there came a sharp scoff. Mickie ignored his partner and continued.
‘There wasn’t time to wait for your song to work on its own.’
The Conductor patted the air with its three fingered hands.
‘Patience Karsus, I’m sure Mickie had a reason he found suitable for the risk.’
‘Risk.’
Karsus scoffed.
‘More like certain death.’
Mickie glared at the ancient mortal, but kept his mouth shut. In truth, Karsus’ words were right on the mark. He had rushed in, banking on his vague status as some kind of key to open the passage. The result had been something completely unexpected, something which almost killed him.
‘Spinner, while I can understand and appreciate the risk you took, it would be good for us to understand why you took it.’
The Conductor said gently. Mickie sighed, turning from the old man to regard the blind singer.
‘I need your help, and couldn’t afford to wait around for your music to do its thing.’
‘So, you decided to commune with the roots?’
Mickie shrugged.
‘Seemed a better option than nothing.’
The singer gave a thoughtful hum, and Karsus used the break in conversation to jump in.
‘You said you needed help?’
There was a wary glint behind the old man’s eyes that Mickie could not begrudge him. This was going to be a big ask on his part.
‘Yes. I want you to help me in freeing a friend of mine.’
‘And the tower kid, we need to take the tower remember.’
Miz-Mag squawked into his ear loudly. Mickie disguised the wince his partner’s voice produced by rubbing his face. He had, in fact, purposefully left out the part about taking the tower. Better to take things one step at a time.
‘You know we’re going to need more details than that?’
Karsus gave him an irritated look, and Mickie hesitated for a moment before responding.
‘A friend of mine is stuck with a bunch of demons in some ruins. I need help getting her out.’
‘Demons, you say, and who exactly are these demons?’
The Conductor asked. Mickie sighed before responding.
‘Belphegor and the demons that serve it.’
There was a moment of silence as both Karsus and the Conductor processed that.
‘You mean, the Belphegor. Lord of Sloth, ruler of the Black City in all but name?’
The old man queried.
‘Yep.’
Mickie said.
‘He’s taken over the ruins, and I need to help someone get away from him.’
‘Right, and shall we go pin the Sovereign’s head on a spike while we’re at it?’
Karsus’ voice dripped with sarcasm. Before Mickie could retort, the Conductor raised a placating hand.
‘Calm, old friend, you forget with whom we speak. The Spinner has done much for us, and the Kin will do what they can to assist in turn.’
The old man spluttered.
‘Come on Con, you can’t really mean…’
‘I do mean it, Karsus. Even still, after all this time, you struggle the understand our ways.’
The blind singer cut off the aged mortal, before turning to Mickie.
‘Then again, that could be said of most humans.’
While he had not said anything, the branded man was indeed struggling to reconcile the Conductor’s sudden agreement. He had expected that he would need to convince the ancient Kindle Kin. Apparently, he underestimated the goodwill he had stacked up with the three fingered singers.
‘Mickie, I know this must seem odd to you, but you must understand. To my people, you are a Song Spinner. More than your assistance in the palace, more that your help here today, it is the contribution of song which we find so important. By giving us your song, you have provided us with something which we can never repay.’
The mortal did not know what to say, he was dumbstruck by the straightforward earnestness of the old singer. Karsus seemed more irritated than confused, no doubt knowing this already, but finding it difficult to accept. For all that the Conductor was blind, it seemed to notice Mickie’s surprise.
‘Do not misunderstand me, Mickie. For all that we are grateful, my people will not needlessly sacrifice to save you. We will, however, aid you as much as we are able.’
An abrupt grinding ascent came from the pair of hybrid guards. The Conductor threw a warm smile their way before returning to the conversation.
‘So, we shall help you in freeing this friend of yours, even if it is from Belphegor. If we are to do so effectively though, we shall require more information.’
Mickie rubbed the back of his neck, taken aback by the offer of aid.
‘Yeah, I… thank you. What do you need to know?’
While the Conductor was more than ready to help, Karsus was still not convinced.
‘Well, for starters, how are you even here?’
He asked, arms folded. Mickie frowned.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, how did you know to come to these ruins? How did you know that this is where we would emerge?’
Actually, that was a good question. Technically, Miz-Mag had been the first to hear about the ruins, back before the pillar fell. Mickie however, decided to give their second source credit.
‘Oh, right. Ziz told us.’
There was a long pause.
‘Ziz?’
Karsus eventually muttered.
‘You mean, the Ziz?’
Mickie grinned at the old man’s shock.
‘Yeah, big bird, super long, talks like the Conductor does, you know the one. We met it beneath this very circle. It told me to come here to seek help.’
The old man wavered between disbelief and astonishment, giving the blind singer beside him a chance to interject.
‘Truly, Mickie, you met Ziz?’
‘More than met. That friend I was telling you about, she formed a Soul Binding with it.’
If the news they had met the primordial produced shock, this next titbit dialled it up to eleven. The air sudden thrummed with an almost physical force as the Conductor reeled backwards. Karsus seemed to be choking on his own spit, coughing and hacking as his eyes bugged out. Around Mickie the air warbled and warped with strange sounds. It took him a second to realise that it was half pronounced words. The Conductor had been hit so heavily by the news that it lost control of its own voice projection.
‘A Soul Binding… with a primordial…’
Karsus was the first to regain his ability to speak. The old man had paled, his arms dropping limp to his sides. On Mickie’s shoulder his little partner chuckled.
‘Blimey kid, I think you broke the pair of them.’
It took a surprisingly long time for the Conductor to regain control of the air around them. Eventually the warbling and stuttering settled, and the blind singer could speak again.
‘I apologise. It is just… extraordinary. If someone truly has bonded with one of the primordials, I would love to meet them.’
Mickie smiled.
‘Well, all the more reason to help me out then.’
The Conductor nodded.
‘Yes, indeed. Just what have you been up in our time apart, Spinner?’
It was unlike the Kindle Kin’s leader to ask so direct a question. Mickie did not particularly mind however, he had expected this when decided to enlist the aid of the singers. In broad strokes, the branded man covered the events following his ascension from the ninth circle. For once, Karsus seemed content to let him speak without interruption. Even so, Mickie’s tale was long, and by the time he was wrapping up, the strange building was filling with Kindle Kin. Apparently, they had either got tired of waiting or been told to come up.
‘Hmm, I can see why Belphegor is so displeased with you. To have had one of the primordials under its thumb, then to have lost it so suddenly…’
The Conductor’s projected voice was soft, hardly more than a whisper as it mused aloud. On the other hand, Karsus seemed to have regained his earlier gruffness. The old man huffed out a breath and rubbed the grey hairs of his beard.
‘This tower, you mentioned it could serve as a way up?’
Mickie held back a smile. The Conductor had mentioned that its people came from a higher circle than the ninth. As such, the mortal had guessed they were likely trying to reach that home ground again, and would need to pass through the seventh to do so. So, he had intentionally framed his journey to the tower as a way to secure passage up, leaving out the requirements of Kalistra’s bond. It seemed to have convinced the ever-suspicious Karsus.
‘Ziz said it could, and I believe I found the controls. Belphegor showed up before I could get anything to work though.’
Further discussion was interrupted by the arrival of two other humans. They emerged from the bone tunnel with expressions of relief and immediately beelined for the conversing leaders. Mickie vaguely recognised the pair, but could not place where he had last seen them. A young man and woman, they began to stutter something to Karsus but cut short when they saw Mickie. Something that might have been fear flashed behind their eyes, and the pair took an abrupt, wary step back.
‘Spinner, thank you for humouring us, would you be so kind as to walk with me?’
The Conductor had noticed the reticent of the new arrivals, and reached a hand out to tug at the sleeve of Mickie’s jacket. Still trying to remember where he had last seen the pair of mortals, the branded man allowed himself to be pulled away.
‘Look at those two. Downright quivering in their boots. You must have made an impression on them back in the palace, aye kid.’
Miz-Mag snickered. The comment shifted something loose in Mickie’s memory, and he recalled the carnage that led to the Conductor’s freedom. Afterwards Karsus had arrived with that same duo of younger humans in tow. Unlike Miz-Mag, Mickie did not find their fear amusing. Rather, it induced a feeling of dull melancholy. He remembered those expressions from before he had died. For all that Hell was terrible, it had also represented a clean slate for the branded. Yet, here he was again, following the same paths, to the same ends.
‘It is the way for those such as us, Spinner.’
The three fingered hand on his arm vibrated softly, and Mickie turned to find that conductor sightless eyes upon him.
‘Power allows you to create waves in this realm, but not always see how far and wide they reach.’
There was a touch of his own sadness in the Conductors voice, and Mickie was reminder just how much it saw for a creature without eyesight.
‘I’ve often found it is best to let the first wave settle before creating another, though at times such a luxury is unafforded to us.’
Mickie sighed, catching the gist of what the singer was trying to say.
‘Yeah, It’d be nice to not start a new fire every time I breath down here…’
He trailed off as he noticed their heading. Having been distracted by the two humans, Mickie had failed to notice where the Conductor was leading him. They were only a few meters from the building’s exit, and through it, Mickie glimpsed the white of bone.
‘Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down.’
As he came to a stop the Kindle Kin’s leader did as well. The braded man turned a frown on the blind singer.
‘Did you not hear me say that the bones in this place came to life? They aren’t particularly fast but, uh, you’re blind. Isn’t going out a touch risky?’
The Conductor smiled softly up at him.
‘I know you danced around the topic with Karsus nearby, Mickie, so I will ask again now. Do you truly know what you did when you communed with the roots?’
As the branded man hesitated to answer, his grey companion started forward with sudden speed. Before Mickie could grab the Conductor, it was through the door and out into the open. With a curse, he ducked after the blind singer. The fool was going to get itself snatched up.
He darted through the door and immediately came up short. Only a couple feet away, the Conductor was standing calmly, waiting for him to catch up. But the bone spines, the grasping tendrils of doom, were all rigid. No longer twisting and reaching, each and every bleached spike was pointing straight up, raised as the hairs on Mickie’s arms. The base of the Broken Plateau had turned into a strange facsimile of the bone woods, with branchless trunks sprouting from stone soil.
‘What in the…’
Mickie trailed off, taken aback by the sudden change in the spines.
‘You reckon’ they’re trying to be sneaky or something kid?’
Miz-Mag murmured from his shoulder, as confused as he was.
An odd ululating hum sounded from the Conductor, a noise Mickie recognised as laughter.
‘Forgive me, Spinner, I could not resist.’
The mortal glanced between the Kindle Kin and the rigid bone spines.
‘You knew this was going to happen?’
‘I did. From the moment I saw you communing with the roots, I knew.’
‘But, how?’
The Conductor smiled in his general direction.
‘I am old Mickie, old enough that I knew what this place once was, and what it has now become.’
‘And that is?’
‘Quite a long tale.’
The Kindle Kin’s leader glanced back inside to where it’s people still gathered.
‘Though I suppose we can afford time for an abbreviated telling, come.’
With that, the Conductor turned and began to waddle into the spines. Mickie hurried to catch up, simultaneously wary of the bones and curious as to what the singer had to say.
‘What is now referred to as the bone wood was once a singular entity, a grand tree that occupied the very plateau through which we now walk.’
A grey hand waved lazily up towards the unseen caver ceiling.
‘That tree was destroyed, cut by a blow that carved this very rent in the rock.’
Mickie glanced around the ruined city, carved into the walls of the monstrous crack.
‘You mean to say that some cut open the broken plateau? How?’
‘With some serious effort, I daresay.’
The Conductor replied, and somehow seemed to sense Mickie’s eyeroll.
‘Sorry, sorry, I could not help myself. Sadly, the details of the whom and how of it are lost to time. All that is known to me, is that somebody cut down the giant bone tree, and a city was established where it once stood.’
Mickie raised no objection to that; the evidence was all around him.
‘This city was one of the earliest to have grasped a foothold on the seventh circle. As you know, the storms here are deadly, and the crack in the plateau offered both shelter and protection from flooding.’
They weaved between spines as the Conductor spoke, heading goodness knew where.
‘What the denizens of the city did not know, was that the great tree had not died. Entities like that are near impossible to truly destroy, only the abyss itself can extinguish them permanently.’
Mickie nodded along, thinking of Ziz and its cycle.
‘The great tree had implanted a seed beneath the plateau, a core in which it hid from the being which had cut it. Only, time for the tree did not pass as it might for you and me. For what must have been an instant to the sleeping giant, years past in the city above. Eventually, the residents began to explore downwards, plumb the depths of their cliffside home as space became more precious. In doing so, they uncovered the core of the sleeping tree.’
The branded man began to grasp the shape the story was taking, and glanced back at the strange building, now partial obscured by bony spines.
‘They worshiped it.’
He muttered.
‘They did.’
Replied the Conductor.
‘It was an object of extraordinary power, one resting right beneath the feet of their home. The city’s residents worshiped the sleeping seed, and eventually, communed with it.’
Mickie started.
‘Like I did?’
His grey companion nodded.
‘Much the same, though to extraordinarily different effects. You see, the tree had been thinking slowly over what it should do, how it could avoid another attack. It had been strong before, grand, proud, and terrible. Yet it had also been vulnerable, the recent attack had proven that. What the tree needed was a path to survival, and the mind touching its own showed it the way.’
They appeared to be approaching a wall now, but Mickie hardly noticed, far too engrossed in the Conductor’s tale.
‘It saw, through the eyes of the other mind, a kind of creature that was singularly weak, yet seemed impossible to irradicate. The tree saw these beings die in droves, yet always persist, always persevere. If a single, strong form could fall, then it needed to be multitudinous. It needed to be impossible to eradicate.’
As the singer closed in upon the end of its story, they also came closer to a destination. Something was taking shape through the white spines, a structure carved into the rock wall.
‘So, finally granted purpose, the seed of the old tree awoke and began to act. It pushed the beyond the communion of minds, ripping the very soul from the body of the one contacting it. The tree spread tendrils of bone through the plateau, seeking more minds, more souls. Some went willingly, happy to join with the being they worshipped. Others fled, taking with them the tale of what occurred here.’
It looked like they were coming to a set of stairs, broader than those Mickie had seen on the way down. Bone spines littered the walls and floor, but they did not block the way upwards. Instead, bleached tendrils folded in upon themselves, curling away to leave the path open.
‘The tree fractured its own consciousness, splitting it like the storm of souls which it now held. Those same souls became the will of the new entity, a collectively intelligence it even now seeks to expand. One tree became many, expanding to become the bone woods that now litter the seventh circle.’
The conductor came to a stop beside the stairs.
‘And so, we come to you, Spinner. You communed with the tree as those who worshiped it once did. Only, the old giant is not what it once was. It no longer has a single mind to captain its actions, instead there is the storm of consciousness you experienced.’
Mickie rubbed his face, still processing the magnitude of what the Conductor had just said. He had seen the bone woods from atop the tower, and they were huge. If what the singer said was true, then that entire forest all came from one place.
‘But, these ruins are in the dunes, how could they be connected to the bone woods?’
He asked, and the Conductor hummed with a chuckle.
‘Indeed, there is not a tree in sight. Here, we slide from the story into my own personal conjecture. I believe the reborn tree has spread roots all throughout the seventh circle. Vast networks through the stone that connect the bone woods together. It is why Karsus and I referred to this place as the roots.’
‘Right, that makes sense. At least I suppose it does.’
Mickie nodded and shifted to a more pressing topic.
‘But why tell me all this? I mean, its good stuff, I just don’t see how it’s relevant.’
The blind singer smiled.
‘I wished to explain to you what happened when you communed with the roots. Intentional or not, you punctured into the storm of souls to carry our song. The collective consciousness shared minds with you for a time, and the result was a message delivered far beyond our best expectations.’
His companion indicated the stiff spines and open staircase.
‘We did ask it to open the way, after all.’
Mickie’s eyes went wide as he realised what the Conductor was saying. He turned to forest of stiff spines, and idly noted the Kindle Kin were making their way over.
‘You mean, the song did all this?’
‘That is did. Influencing the will of a fractured entity like the bone tree is no small task, and who knows how it will interpret the instructions.’
The Conductor raised an arm towards its people as they slowly approached.
‘But, that is a concern for another time. I believe we have a desert to cross and a primordial to assist.’
Mickie looked from the Kindle Kin to the open stairway. At least there would not be any difficulty getting out of the ruins. He planted a foot on the staircase and began to climb.