By Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
Chapter Sixteen "Shadows Three"
"All right, Sarah, when I signal you, come in strong on the chorus. You'll have heard the tune and the words once all the way through by then."
Great Uncle Charlie was nodding in his bent blue wizard's hat while Sarah's Granny Pansy stirred a flowery-smelling stew in her great iron cauldron.
"Why me?" protested Sarah. "You and Granny Pansy are the ones invoking the Shady Gimmoire."
Granny Pansy answered her directly, stirring the pot steadily as small electrical currents began to run over the surface which kept changing from sky blue to red to brown to another, deeper oceanic blue.
"You must sing because these events involve you. It is your future that is most at stake here, Sarah, and your voice will add its own urgency to the conjuration."
"Doris went on all afternoon about your voice Sarah, and I've never heard it. Very beautiful, I understand, from her description."
"And its called the Shadem Graviosis, by the way. And it is a conjuration, not an invocation. Invocations are much more dangerous affairs."
Great Uncle Charlie nodded in agreement.
"All right," said Sarah, and made herself ready for--for what exactly she didn't know.
Granny Pansy began to hum, tunelessly almost. The sound of the house began to fade out into an indistinguishable backdrop--all the noise in the other room became no more than soft wind blowing over a dune. Granny Pansy's face gradually lost its look of control and wit, and, without slackening exactly or becoming imbecilic, became focused on something not in the room, not on the earth, perhaps. An otherworldly awareness seemed to permeate her heavily lined countenance, and her white hair was stirred by a wind none of the others felt. A ditty like a nonsense song from a nursery rhyme began to insinuate itself into her humming, which, without becoming louder, soon became the only thing any of them could hear.
"Da da da-da dumm Dumm dumm da-da da"
Great Uncle Charles could remember cotillions and waltzes he had attended when his car was new and the hair on his head had flopped over his brow boyishly. The shadow of the past was entering the room. Great Uncle Charlie's baritone now came along and hummed as well; it was almost silly how young his voice was, humming the nonsense along with his sister. Granny Pansy had her own supply of past events on which to draw, and a stronger feeling attended those. With two conjurers who possessed so many memories between them, this shadow made itself comfortable on the blank wall behind Sarah, shifting shapes with the memories of the singers.
Now the pace of the tune quickened, and although no words were entertained by the singers, the humming became more of a wordless singing, and the tune lifted into melody.
"Tah dah-dah dee dah Tah dah-dah dee dah"
Round and round it went, quick as the Mickleswift. The melody flowed and rippled over them prettily, and a light, almost white shadow began to dance alongside of the heavier shadow of the past. It was a shadow that somehow brightened the room it entered and lifted the singers' eyes from their own thoughts to quick shared glances, and even smiles. This was the shadow of the present time, the moment living and rushing before them and around them. The singers felt themselves brighten into time.
Now the words came, suddenly, for Sarah had expected another round of humming and wordless singing to introduce the shadow of the future. Instead, it was as if a flock of birds had entered the room all at once, darting and dashing against the windowpanes. Not one shadow, but a thousand conflicting shades raced like watery reflections around the kitchen. Granny Pansy's and Great Uncle Charlie's singing took on a rapid, panicked air, as if they were trying to sing without pausing to catch their breaths. Sarah felt confused by the speed of this change in the tune, in the singing, and she missed the first few words of the song she was supposed to come in on in the second round. She tried to catch her Granny Pansy's eye to let her know that she had missed the beginning of the song, but Granny Pansy and her Great Uncle Charlie had their eyes shut tight, concentrating on keeping the song going.
Shadow, see just what will be Shadow past beyond all memory Shadow present sharply seen Shadow future with shades unseen
This part of the Shadem Graviosis was a strain on them, and it showed in every line of their faces. The temperature in the room shot up, and Great Uncle Charlie was dripping sweat from under the brim of his wizard's cap. Sarah shut her eyes and listened tremendously hard. She was trying to reconstruct the words that had slipped by before it was her turn to join the song.
Shadows Three of what will be Shadow past beyond all memory Shadow present sharply seen Shadow future with shades unseen
After Sarah came in the song transformed into a fast roundel, each person beginning again at the beginning and coming in on the next verse of the song. This made it even harder for Sarah to catch all of the words, let alone try and hear the first words correctly again. The hundreds of darting shadows began to coalesce on the wall with the other two, sturdier shadows. They joined each other, and then started to pull apart, not quite disentangling. Theirs was a watery quality. The shadow of the past lay against the wall with almost a solidity compared to them, as if it were a portion of the earth itself: grounded, real as your hand in front of your face. The shadow of the present continued to flutter brightly, with a clear illuminated outline, but a shifting one, like the lines of a flames. But this shadow too, for all of its shifting, stayed: a focused reality that was not about to depart however greatly it might change before the viewer. This was like looking in your lover's eyes and seeing all the shadows of care, concern, love and desire in them: constant in their changefulness. But the bird-shadows, now tied at their root, were as various as a handful a balloons.
The song went round, and a large shape, fair and dark for a few moments, appeared among the future shades. It looked to Sarah like the outline of one of the Gods of Autumn; a powerful, elegant, and swift male figure that held a long club that looked to be made of an uprooted tree. He approached another shadow, sharp and full of corners, and that was the idle machinery sitting at the docks. The club swung and smashed the great steel dock equipment like a rock shattering glass. It was a disturbing vision of violence and destruction, but Granny Pansy and Great Uncle Charles held the song steady, and Sarah stayed in time.
The shadows broke and darted as the song came round again. This time they reformed as a pair of people, long of limb and cruel of face. Sarah saw instantly that one of them was Eva, but this shadow had bat-wings slowly flapping from its back. The other had to be Mr. Plimsoul, but here he was shorter than her, while in real life he was the taller of the two tall grown-ups. Their shadows were whispering conspiratorially, just as they had done in the basement. Between them the long casket grew from nothing, and then shifted to stand upright. They threw exotic gestures at the casket rapidly, desperately. A hole opened in the shadow where the casket stood, as if it were exploding from within, and light were escaping. The shadows of Mr. Plimsoul and Eva stepped back and faded, and then the shadow play lost is shape and broke into a flutter of greys again.
Granny Pansy and Great Uncle Charlie were beginning to look quite worn out. The singing, holding the spell close together, was taking a tremendous toll on them. It was as if the song were gradually getting heavier and harder to hold correctly, as if it were slipping from their grip. Sarah remembered coming home from a Christmas shopping expedition with a towering armload of packages. As the top package began to tilt away from her, the one beneath it tilted more than it had, and the one beneath that one, etc., until it was like trying to straighten out the leaning tower of Pisa. That's how the song was slipping away from them.
This is all because I came in with the wrong words, thought Sarah. Sarah made a tremendous effort to tilt the song back on course, singing with all of her might, and with all of the delicate strength her beautiful voice could muster. Before them, the shadow of the future was coming together for a third time. Bit by bit the racing shadows pulled together again into a huge darkness, blotting out both the past and the present. This premonition would be one to remember.
Then the shadow shrank to a single line along the floor. It crept across the kitchen tiles and laid in a pool around Sarah's feet. Then it began to elongate from Sarah back to the wall, and up the wall, maintaining contact with her scuffed penny loafers. On the wall in front of them, Sarah saw, with an undeniable discomfort, herself. She was standing looking back at her herself. She was singing, and her shadow was singing with her in perfect sync.
Bits of shadow, birds it seemed, flew around the shadow Sarah, settling momentarily on its shoulders and then flitting away again as it sang. The shadow Sarah seemed delightfully in tune with its surroundings. It seemed to have the future, with all of its darting possibilities, well in hand. But horribly, slowly, and in a way that reminded Sarah of her missing the starting cue of the conjuration, her shadow self began to sing something other than what she and Granny Pansy and Great Uncle Charlie were singing. Her shadow self began to be attacked by the shadow birds, which were aiming, it seemed, at her throat, fetching gobbets of her flesh while she tried to sing on. To one side of the scene, a blob drawn from the shadow Sarah's foot began to bulk into the recognizable form of the well, squatting with a menacing solidarity. The birds came, ripping notes from Sarah's throat, and depositing them in the well. The singing well grew larger, more dangerous and fatalistic, and the shadow Sarah collapsed to the ground, the birds diving and tearing at her throat. At last, a crowd of the birds swooped down together and lifted the lifeless Sarah up bodily, and dumped her into the well. The well sang on, spitting out notes and a visible malice.
Tears were streaming down Sarah's cheeks, but she held to the song. Her Great Uncle Charlie looked suitably horrified at what he was witnessing. Only Granny Pansy remained dispassionate and resolute, her eyes squinting close with an iron determination. If this was a shadow of things to come, her face said, then that is just what it would remain--a shadow. The tears ran into Sarah's throat, and she coughed, losing the song a bit, trying to work around them. The shadow play was weakening, but just before it faded out completely, they could all see an armored figure, draped in chain mail, stalk toward the well. It was a very pale shadow indeed--almost a shadow of a shadow, a spirit shadow, if you will. Without hesitation, it put a stiff arm on the edge of the well, and, drawing a long sword, leaped into the well like a fish returning to a stream. Sarah gasped, for the figure reminded her of Gilman. And then the whole wall went blank, and only their normal, human shadows remained.
END OF CHAPTER SIXTEEN