Penumbra II
“Wut tat tummo” He inhaled with her breath, slowly allowing
his lungs and abdomen to fill. He exhaled with her, lightly gliding his
fingertips over her burnt hair and charred bone. Upon expiration, he tensed his
abdomen from the bottom up letting the lullaby well from deep within himself,
as Kunden had instructed him to do a lifetime ago.
The words were less an articulation of his lips and tongue
and more the result of his breath, will and posture. In this way he was and
instrument and the simple song; his saving grace. This was all he could do
sometimes to calm the baby she dragon.
“Wut tat tummo…Wut tat tummo”
Shilog changed the pacing of melody and enucleated
different vowels to create some variety. He’d already lost perception of time.
In the deep mountain ceremonial chambers the lighting was a luminous jade
emitted from fungi Shilog had never been interested in examining and the
reflection of that light in the pools of dark water Shilog was afraid to
approach.
Slowly, painfully slow Shilog mopped at Tummo’s black hair with
a wet sponge. The water helped to coagulate the plasma that burned her from her
inside, out.
“Wut tat, tummo…wut, tat tummo” Shilog drew out the last
vowel into a hum. Kunden had taught him the tones for the body’s chakras.
Drawing upon his apprenticeship to Edmund Greer, from the life he knew when he
was called Adalgiso Baeri, Shilog could convert each vortex tone into a musical
note. Tummo responded best to C.
Shilog dampened the sponge and squeezed out the excess
before gently placing it back onto her red inflamed skin. The skin had begun to
grow after the plasma cooled enough on her bone and formed blotches of black,
fowl smelling, tar. If he could keep her from scratching at the tar it would
eventually harden into a caprice and fall off with healthy skin beneath.
Shilog had begun months ago with her feet. Shilog would
kneel on a rug in the center of the chamber and stir the water in the buckets
with the sponge. Slowly, Tummo would appear from the recesses of the dark cave.
Shilog would sing through the musical scales being mindful to not linger too
long on any of the tones above the heart (fa). After the first couple of rounds
she’d have a seat on the ground close to Shilog, but never close enough. Shilog
always stifled a smile when he has to comply. After healing her legs and feet
the rest of the work was comparatively easier. She sometimes seemed to enjoy
the grooming. She would balk and grunt, but made no motion to stop him.
To fully lull her to restfulness Shilog began to hum the
melody. It took a better part of the first session before he realized the
coincidence. He spent the remainder of the session in silent awe of his new
found perspective.
“Wut…tat tummo…hmmm-o”
Shilog watched her chest rise and
fall. She was sleeping. He slowly slipped his lap from underneath her large
head. She’d grown since he was last down here three days ago. She’d eaten the
oxen Shilog had left for her in those three days, leaving only charred bone. He
estimated that she must be closer to seven feet by now.
Shilog
winced against the pain his nervous system was reporting from his sleeping legs
and pelvis. He inhaled silently and exhaled sharply through pursed lips has he
thrust his legs straight. Tummo stirred, but did not wake. Shilog twisted and
contorted while the needling sensation moved in waves through his body.
When
he could support his weight without pain, Shilog gently tipped over the
remaining bucket of water allowing it to flow towards Tummo. Her skin gave an
audible hiss, but did not disturb her sleep.
Gathering
his buckets, but leaving the rug Shilog crept towards the steps and mounted the
stairs. On the third landing Shilog looked back to the sleeping monster. He
felt a great pity for her. All she’d known up till now was the suffering of her
own existence. Shilog lowered his head for atonement and prayed for an end to
her suffering. When he was finished he recouped his buckets and again began his
ascent.
Next: Honey and Locust
No comments:
Post a Comment