Vivace

With no end to the storm in sight, Vivace’s dad pushed a heavy wooden slab over the opening to the turret. It softened the thunderous noise outside. He placed his forehead against the slab in contemplation. Turning around, he looked toward his workbench and the letter. To his right sat an empty chamberstick. He picked it up and walked to his table. Lifting a lit candle, he poured some hot wax onto the chamberstick and secured it to the base. He turned around and fixed his gaze on the columbine.

With his candle in hand, he walked to a shelf on the opposite side of the room. He placed a small jar of honey in his pocket. He set the chamberstick down on the shelf and pushed around a few items until he saw a wineskin. He shook the wineskin. To his delight, there was a splash or two inside. 

At the rough-sawn beech table, he ran his hand against the gnarled bark edge. He set the wineskin down and pulled the stool out from under the table. As he sat down, he slid the jar of honey out of his pocket along with a small silver knife. He stared intently at the frail columbine. He mouthed words to himself, fighting hard to jog his memory of a trick an alchemist taught him to extend the life of plants.

Then he remembered. He pulled the flower from the vase and examined its stem. With deep reluctance, he trimmed off a small portion of the stem with his silver blade. He poured a small amount of honey into the water, followed by a splash of wine. He stirred the water with the silver blade until the thick honey was no longer visible in the water, then placed the flower back into the vase.

For a moment, he stared at the flower, then past it to his daughter, who had begun to stir in her sleep. He stood, grabbed the umbra cloak from earlier, and laid it over his daughter. A bitter cold came with the storm, and he thought it was disturbing her sleep.

Returning to his workbench, he grabbed the letter to Mr. Meissner and tucked it into his tunic. He extinguished one of the candles and held the other as he walked over to the flower. For a moment longer he stared intently at the candle, then the room went dark. He set the chamberstick on the table and settled down near Vivace.
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Thunder forced Vivace awake. She lay there for a moment, watching the condensation leave her mouth with every breath. She sighed with relief. Cailleach had not visited her tonight.

Rain pattered against the door slab. Muffled thunder sounded in the distance. She welcomed the sounds. It was the first time she truly appreciated the haunting sounds of a terrible storm. 

She sat up and stretched. She glanced at the columbine flower on the table. The flower seemed to glow faintly, pulsing with each breath she took. She leaned forward to stand. Her hands touched the cold, damp stone. As she stood, she wiped the grit from her palms.

At the rough-sawn table, she ran her hand across the bark. Pulling a stool out from under the table, she sat in front of the flower. The glowing flower pulled her into a trance. She forced herself to look away.

She glanced at her father’s workbench. A strange black mist rose from the table. She nearly missed it. From the corner of her eye came another flash of black mist, then another. She looked toward the roof of the turret, assuming dust was falling through the cracks. Closing her eyes, she tried to focus on the sounds of the pattering rain. Nothing. Only silence.

She looked at her father, who lay on his bedroll a few feet away.

“Father?” she yelled.

But her words fell silent. She could hear herself speak only in her head, but her mouth made no sound. Her attention went back to the flower, which had moved inches closer to her. She put her hands on the table and tried to push her stool back. It didn’t budge.

Vivace began to breathe faster. Her agitation grew. She looked up toward the cracks in the ceiling again, but found only darkness. 

You have nothing to fear from me, child.

Hearing Cailleach made her skin crawl. She closed her eyes and imagined the wild boars grunting in the forest. A calm surrounded her and she felt empowered.

“Who are you?”

Nothing but a memory.

As Vivace tried to look around, the columbine began to gently pulse again, drawing her attention. All around the room, objects began to disappear. Small objects at first. Vivace summoned the strength to break her gaze. She looked up and saw a brass chamberstick. Before her eyes, it evaporated into a thin black mist. She frantically looked around, watching everything vanish. Then the stool she sat on was gone. Her stomach churned, and she felt a sensation of falling.

Vivace screamed until her lips turned blue. The sound resonated so loudly in her mind that she didn’t realize she remained silent. Behind her voice, she could hear another voice mimicking her scream, mocking her.

A stone slab appeared beneath her. Her body felt grounded. Her stomach returned to peace and she looked around. Everything was featureless and black. The stone slab emanated a comforting warmth. As she began to think of the morning sun in the flower field, an endless trail of slabs appeared. They trailed off into the distance. Curious, Vivace stepped forward onto the next slab.

Every few slabs, Vivace hoped to experience something, anything. Everything was drab. It wasn’t long before the environment began to weigh on her. The empty silence made the faint whistle in her head deafening. She tried to concentrate on anything else. She clenched her fist in frustration. 

Her feet began to ache. She had never walked for this long. She stopped to relax her feet and was finally able to think. She closed her eyes and pictured the stool in the turret. When she opened her eyes, she was taken aback. Several slabs ahead of her, a stool taunted her. She hurried toward the stool. The closer she got, the farther it receded. Vivace thought about chasing rainbows after a nice, brisk rainstorm and slowed. Her calves ached. She looked at the ground spitefully. She cursed herself, and the stool disappeared in a black mist.

You’re almost there sweet girl.

Vivace could tell those words were hollow. It sounded sweet and helpful, but there were undertones of malice. 

Exhaustion overwhelmed Vivace. A faint blue light radiated in the distance. A soft melody filled her ears. A sudden burst of energy surged through Vivace, and she hurried to the blue glow, trying her best to ignore the stabbing pain in her feet. The blue glow enveloped everything. As she got closer, she recognized the shimmering pool of blue pouring from the felled tree. 

The pool swirled before her. Its shimmering surface became reflective and seduced Vivace. She approached the blue mirror, close enough to see the fine details of her face. A flash of blue swirled in her eyes. Vivace reached for her face. Her chest grew heavy. Each breath hurt. Before she touched her eyes, her arms went limp and fell to her sides.

“Wake up, Vivace!” her father’s voice rang in her head.

Her father’s voice was all she needed. She broke free from the trance and spun on her heel. Her hand rested against the tabletop, her body trembling with fatigue. She inhaled deeply. Her legs gave out beneath her weight, and she fell backward. As her body hit the floor, she woke up staring into her father’s eyes. Deep inside, a voice not her own spoke.

Home.

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A strong smell of peppermint and elderberry wafted toward Vivace. She ran her fingers along the cracks in the tabletop, feeling the sharp edges of the split wood. Her father sat in front of a small fire, stirring tea. He shifted in his seat to face Vivace.

“A couple of minutes and the tea will be done. Twice-baked biscuits?”

She kept running her fingers along the wood. Her shoulders rose briefly before relaxing again. He studied her, and his eyes narrowed. He braced his hands on his knees as he got up. He grabbed a leather sack on the shelf nearest to him and pulled out four biscuits. He walked over to his daughter and placed the biscuits on the table. 

“Hey, Vivace.” He stroked her ashy brown hair. “The forest is sure to be full of life today. After a storm like that!”

Vivace balled her fist.

“I’m staying in today.” She looked up at her father. “I can’t go back out there right now.”

His chin tucked briefly into his chest. For a moment he thought he saw a glimmer of blue shine in her eyes.

“Well, you can help me pack up. We’re going to Audor tomorrow. I finished the cuir bouilli. I figured it was a good day to deliver it. We shouldn’t get another storm.”

The kettle shrieked throughout the turret.

He turned to walk over to the screaming kettle, but he paused. He looked back at Vivace. She was looking down at the table, and he furrowed his eyebrows. He grabbed a canvas cloth resting on a flat stone beside the fire, lifted the kettle, then pulled two wood-carved mugs from a nearby shelf.

He set down the two mugs and filled them up. He pushed one toward Vivace with two biscuits. Dunking a biscuit into the steaming tea, he held it there for a moment and looked around the room.

“I think we will be in Audor for a few days. So bring your bedroll.”

“A few days? There are things to be done he–”

She shook her head in confusion. “How much food are we bringing?”

He looked over at the columbine as he drank. He didn’t want to mention her sudden outburst. 

“Only some snacks. We’ll have plenty when we get there.”

The rest of the morning was spent in silence. They enjoyed the tea and biscuits. Her father looked at the columbine again. He spun the flower in the vase.