When the Parliament took Daphne, Leicester and Trafalgar both took off after them (at a discreet distance, so as not to be seen), but Jenny had no way to follow them. She had no wings to fly and one boat, but had no direction to go. She was stuck on the beach of the Land of Black Trees with nowhere to go and nothing to do.
This was the worst possible thing for Stormalong Jenny. She had earned that nickname from Captain Brown for her forceful personality -- if the men on the Hangman's Holiday were lounging about, doing nothing, she would force them to get back to work. She hated doing nothing, hated having nothing to do. It reminded her of when she was young, of how she came to be in the Storylands, of how useless she used to be.
But there was nothing to be done now. So she stayed on the beach and waited. She paced back and forth on the sands until her legs were tired.
And then she heard the growling. She turned and there, between two large black tree trunks, was a dog as black as midnight. It was at least six-feet in height and as she looked up, she saw that its eyes were two pieces of burning coals. She sank to her knees.
(Jennifer Vargas.) It spoke without moving its mouth, without betraying its sharp, white teeth. (Stormalong Jenny. Do you know me?)
"Yes," Jenny said. "You're the Canis Major. You're the Dog King. You're the Underhound."
(Yes.) The Underhound looked down at her with its red eyes. (You have been protecting Daphne Blackwell.)
"She's not here," Jenny said. "They took her."
(I know.) It shifted its stance. It looked smaller now, as if it was shrinking. (The Parliament wishes to gain access to the Nothing and believes she knows the way. Do you wish to get her back?)
"Yes," Jenny said, her voice a whisper.
(Ride with me.) The Underhound was small enough so that Jenny could climb onto its back now.
"Thank you, my lord," Jenny said, her fingers holding onto the coarse black hairs of its back. "But why?"
(Access to the Nothing is a secret.) The Underhound began to run, its feet moving so fast, they barely touched the water. (And secrets are my domain.)
They moved quickly across the water until they reached a new land, a land covered in ice and snow. "This is the Ice Child's land," Jenny said.
(I cannot move against the Parliament directly.) The Underhound led her through the frost covered land, growing larger as the snowbanks grew higher. (But there is a weapon you can use against them. It will not kill, but it will cut.)
She saw it then: a block of ice, ice as clear as a summer sky. Inside the ice was a sword, a cutlass made from blue steel. "The Sword of Night and Day," Jenny said. "Cutter of Blood and Bone. Terrors, I thought this was just a myth."
(We are all myths, Stormalong Jenny.) The Underhound moved closer to the block of ice and drew a breath, then expelled the hot air. Rivulets of water began to sweat from the ice block. It was melting.
"I heard that it cut the tongue from the Prince of Thorns himself," Jenny said. "I heard it was so sharp as to cut the day from the night." The Underhound was silent as it blew more hot air onto the block and slowly the sword revealed itself to the world, neither confirming nor denying what she had said.
(Take hold of the sword, Jennifer Vargas.) Jenny gingerly reached forth to take hold of the blue sword. It was still cold, but as she touched it, it warmed, like it was responding to her directly. She pulled the rest of it from the ice and held it up to the light. (This I give to you, Stormalong Jenny. It is my gift and thus cannot be used against me. But you may use it against the Parliament. You may use it to rescue Daphne. I will bring you to their mountain.)
Jenny barely had time to tie the Sword of Night and Day around her waist with her sash before the Underhound leaped above the snows and back to the sea, as it raced along the water and towards the mountain where the Parliament of Fowls waited. Where Daphne waited.
Jenny smiled and gripped the sword tight.
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Friday, August 3, 2012
Chapter Fifteen: Bedroom Blues
Daphne opened her eyes and then closed them again. The bright light was gone, but it was replaced by the mother of all headaches. She sat up and pushed her blanket off and put one hand to her eyes. There was a steady throbbing in her head, as if she had hit it on something.
And then she realized -- she had pushed away her blanket. Her blanket.
She opened her eyes and ignored the pain. She was in her own bedroom, in her own house, in her own world.
She stood up and then was hit with a bout of dizziness. Luckily, her mother was passing by and caught her before she fell. "Whoa, there, Daph," her mother said. "You should still be in bed. You took a nasty tumble."
"What?" Daphne said. "What happened?"
"You tripped," her mother said, "and fell at the front door. You're lucky, there wasn't anything broken or sprained or anything. We even had a doctor check you out to see if you had a concussion. I can't tell you how relieved I was when he said you were just sleeping."
"But what about the Storylands?" Daphne asked. "What about Jenny and Leicester and Trafalgar?"
"I don't know who that is," her mother said. "I think you were just dreaming, dear."
Her mother led her back to her bed and tucked her. "Now," she said, "I know you're confused, but I think it's better that you stay in bed. Everything'll be alright, you'll see. We'll even pick up your homework from school, so you won't miss anything."
"Okay," Daphne said.
Her mother kissed her on the forehead and Daphne shivered. Then her mother walked to the door of her room and turned off the light. "You rest now," she said. Daphne nodded.
As soon as her mother left and closed the door, Daphne was up and walking around her room. Everything was just how she left it, but it all felt...wrong somehow. As if it wasn't really her room, but it just looked like her room. She felt the walls and looked out the window. Nothing was out of place.
She ventured out of her room and tip-toed down the stairs. Her mother was in the kitchen cleaning. Did she clean often? Daphne couldn't remember the last time she had cleaned the kitchen.
Daphne walked towards the front hallway and the front door, the place where she had supposedly tripped and hit her head. There was the space where the door in the floor had been. She felt the floor, but she knew she wasn't going to find any hinges or any evidence of there being a door at all. She stood up and opened the front door.
It was night outside. Upstairs, when she looked outside, it had been day. Had the sun set in the minute it had taken her to tip-toe down the stairs? No, of course not.
"What gave us away?" her mother asked.
Daphne turned around. Her mother stood behind her, her hands in rubber gloves, a wry smile upon her face. "You said you would pick up my homework," Daphne said. "It's summer vacation. There is no homework."
"Ah," her mother said. "All these different rules and regulations for your world. No wonder you wanted to escape. No wonder you wanted the freedom of the Storylands."
Daphne tried to run, but her mother grabbed her and slung her over the shoulder. "We made this from your memories," her mother said. "The ones you traded away for food. We used those to establish the world you see, but of course, there were always going to be mistakes. There's still no escape though." Her mother held her as she struggled and walked up the stairs, finally opened the door to Daphne's room. She dropped Daphne in her bed or, rather, the facsimile of her bed. "One of the memories we came across was of a television show. The Outer Limits." Her mother's smile grew wider. "Remember? We control the horizontal. We control the vertical. We can delude you with a thousand images or expand one to crystal clarity and beyond. We can make this room into anything we want. Right now, we wanted you to be relaxed. We wanted you to think you were home. That can change."
"Why?" Daphne asked.
"We want Nothing," her mother said. "You know the way to Nothing."
"I don't," Daphne said.
"You do," her mother said. "Perhaps not consciously, but you do. And you shall stay here until we know as well."
And so the Discordant Symphony in the form of her mother left her there, in her fake room, in her fake house, in her fake world. She sat at her bed for what seemed like hours. She didn't know how much time had passed since she first entered the hole in the mountain. Time in the Storylands worked differently, she remembered, and she wasn't exactly in a position to see where the sun was so it might have been days or weeks or minutes.
She had nowhere to go, nothing to do. There was no escape for her here.
And then she heard a noise. It sounded like a bird screeching. It was soon joined by others, a large number of birds screeching, a flock of birds, a Parliament. They were screaming.
The window of her room, the window that looked out on a bright sunny day, was then cut in two. Behind the window was darkness, a sword, and a face.
It was the face of Stormalong Jenny.
And then she realized -- she had pushed away her blanket. Her blanket.
She opened her eyes and ignored the pain. She was in her own bedroom, in her own house, in her own world.
She stood up and then was hit with a bout of dizziness. Luckily, her mother was passing by and caught her before she fell. "Whoa, there, Daph," her mother said. "You should still be in bed. You took a nasty tumble."
"What?" Daphne said. "What happened?"
"You tripped," her mother said, "and fell at the front door. You're lucky, there wasn't anything broken or sprained or anything. We even had a doctor check you out to see if you had a concussion. I can't tell you how relieved I was when he said you were just sleeping."
"But what about the Storylands?" Daphne asked. "What about Jenny and Leicester and Trafalgar?"
"I don't know who that is," her mother said. "I think you were just dreaming, dear."
Her mother led her back to her bed and tucked her. "Now," she said, "I know you're confused, but I think it's better that you stay in bed. Everything'll be alright, you'll see. We'll even pick up your homework from school, so you won't miss anything."
"Okay," Daphne said.
Her mother kissed her on the forehead and Daphne shivered. Then her mother walked to the door of her room and turned off the light. "You rest now," she said. Daphne nodded.
As soon as her mother left and closed the door, Daphne was up and walking around her room. Everything was just how she left it, but it all felt...wrong somehow. As if it wasn't really her room, but it just looked like her room. She felt the walls and looked out the window. Nothing was out of place.
She ventured out of her room and tip-toed down the stairs. Her mother was in the kitchen cleaning. Did she clean often? Daphne couldn't remember the last time she had cleaned the kitchen.
Daphne walked towards the front hallway and the front door, the place where she had supposedly tripped and hit her head. There was the space where the door in the floor had been. She felt the floor, but she knew she wasn't going to find any hinges or any evidence of there being a door at all. She stood up and opened the front door.
It was night outside. Upstairs, when she looked outside, it had been day. Had the sun set in the minute it had taken her to tip-toe down the stairs? No, of course not.
"What gave us away?" her mother asked.
Daphne turned around. Her mother stood behind her, her hands in rubber gloves, a wry smile upon her face. "You said you would pick up my homework," Daphne said. "It's summer vacation. There is no homework."
"Ah," her mother said. "All these different rules and regulations for your world. No wonder you wanted to escape. No wonder you wanted the freedom of the Storylands."
Daphne tried to run, but her mother grabbed her and slung her over the shoulder. "We made this from your memories," her mother said. "The ones you traded away for food. We used those to establish the world you see, but of course, there were always going to be mistakes. There's still no escape though." Her mother held her as she struggled and walked up the stairs, finally opened the door to Daphne's room. She dropped Daphne in her bed or, rather, the facsimile of her bed. "One of the memories we came across was of a television show. The Outer Limits." Her mother's smile grew wider. "Remember? We control the horizontal. We control the vertical. We can delude you with a thousand images or expand one to crystal clarity and beyond. We can make this room into anything we want. Right now, we wanted you to be relaxed. We wanted you to think you were home. That can change."
"Why?" Daphne asked.
"We want Nothing," her mother said. "You know the way to Nothing."
"I don't," Daphne said.
"You do," her mother said. "Perhaps not consciously, but you do. And you shall stay here until we know as well."
And so the Discordant Symphony in the form of her mother left her there, in her fake room, in her fake house, in her fake world. She sat at her bed for what seemed like hours. She didn't know how much time had passed since she first entered the hole in the mountain. Time in the Storylands worked differently, she remembered, and she wasn't exactly in a position to see where the sun was so it might have been days or weeks or minutes.
She had nowhere to go, nothing to do. There was no escape for her here.
And then she heard a noise. It sounded like a bird screeching. It was soon joined by others, a large number of birds screeching, a flock of birds, a Parliament. They were screaming.
The window of her room, the window that looked out on a bright sunny day, was then cut in two. Behind the window was darkness, a sword, and a face.
It was the face of Stormalong Jenny.
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Chapter Fourteen: Symphony of the Devil
The birds surrounded Daphne and pushed her towards one side of the mountain where there was a deep, dark hole. She didn't want to go in the hole, but whenever she tried to go in a different direction, one of the Parliament would be there, their beak sharp and ready to peck her. So far, they had just bitten her on the hands, but she knew if she tried to escape again, they would bite her in more painful places. She felt the sharp stings in her palms and she felt sick when she saw the blood.
So she was herded into the hole and inside there was a wooden stair that led down, down, down. There was no light, so she only knew she had reached the bottom when her feet unexpectedly touched dirt. She felt her way along the walls and wondered whether she should stay where she was or move along further. Could there be a way out of this?
HELLO, DAPHNE BLACKWELL. There was a voice. It was a voice unlike any she had ever heard or, perhaps more accurately, like every voice she had ever heard,
but all layered on top of one another. WE ARE THE DISCORDANT SYMPHONY.
"Oh," she said. "I can't really see you in this darkness."
DARK? the Discordant Symphony said. IS IT DARK?
"Yes," Daphne said. "There's no light at all."
THERE IS ALWAYS LIGHT, the Symphony said. LOOK.
There was a bright flash of light and Daphne's eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough so that she was temporarily blinded. She shielded her eyes from the bright light.
WHY DO YOU AVERT YOUR EYES? the Symphony asked. DID YOU NOT WANT LIGHT?
"It's too bright," Daphne said and then, since she seemed to compulsively apologize, said, "I'm sorry. How do you see?"
OUR SIGHT DOES NOT WORK LIKE YOURS. WE DO NOT REQUIRE LIGHT. WE DO NOT KNOW DARKNESS. WE DO NOT HAVE EYES NOR EARS NOR MOUTHS.
"Then how are you talking?" Daphne asked.
WE DO NOT TALK, the Symphony said. WHAT YOU ARE HEARING IS NOISE, THE MOTION OF AIR. WE ARE THAT MOTION. WE ARE ALL MOTION. WE CAN MOVE AND MAKE THE BRIGHTEST LIGHT YOU HAVE EVER SEEN...
Daphne shielded her eyes further as the light became brighter.
...OR WE CAN MAKE A DARKNESS SO IMPENETRABLE, YOU CANNOT CONCEIVE OF ANYTHING DARKER.
The light vanished and Daphne lowered her hands, but when she reached out to touch a wall, there was none. She was in a sea of darkness. She couldn't feel anything, couldn't see anything, couldn't hear anything. All she knew was that there was ground beneath her, but she could have been on an island surrounded by silent waves and she would never know about it.
She sank to the ground and wrapped her hands around her knees. Suddenly, she was very, very scared.
"What do you want?" Daphne asked.
WE ARE THE DISCORDANT SYMPHONY. WE WANT NOTHING. WE WANT WHAT YOU KNOW.
"But I don't know anything!" Daphne cried.
IF YOU DO NOT KNOW ANYTHING, THEN YOU KNOW NOTHING, the Symphony said.
"I wish I did know about the Nothing," she said. "I would tell you, really. But I don't."
VERY WELL.
"You believe me?" Daphne asked quietly.
WE CAN HEAR THE LIES FROM TRUTHS. BUT THE PROPHECY STATES THAT YOU WILL WIELD THE NOTHING AND THUS YOU SHALL DO SO WITHOUT KNOWLEDGE OF IT. THEREFORE, WE MUST KNOW MORE.
"What do you want to know?" she asked.
The bright light came back and Daphne shielded her face again.
WE WILL LEARN THE WAY WE ALWAYS LEARN.
The light became brighter and Daphne covered her eyes, but there was a buzzing her ears and it was making her skin crawl. She wanted to lie down and pull a blanket over her head, but she didn't have a blanket. She missed her home and her bed and her parents so very much.
WE WILL SHOW YOU.
And then the world disappeared.
So she was herded into the hole and inside there was a wooden stair that led down, down, down. There was no light, so she only knew she had reached the bottom when her feet unexpectedly touched dirt. She felt her way along the walls and wondered whether she should stay where she was or move along further. Could there be a way out of this?
HELLO, DAPHNE BLACKWELL. There was a voice. It was a voice unlike any she had ever heard or, perhaps more accurately, like every voice she had ever heard,
but all layered on top of one another. WE ARE THE DISCORDANT SYMPHONY.
"Oh," she said. "I can't really see you in this darkness."
DARK? the Discordant Symphony said. IS IT DARK?
"Yes," Daphne said. "There's no light at all."
THERE IS ALWAYS LIGHT, the Symphony said. LOOK.
There was a bright flash of light and Daphne's eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough so that she was temporarily blinded. She shielded her eyes from the bright light.
WHY DO YOU AVERT YOUR EYES? the Symphony asked. DID YOU NOT WANT LIGHT?
"It's too bright," Daphne said and then, since she seemed to compulsively apologize, said, "I'm sorry. How do you see?"
OUR SIGHT DOES NOT WORK LIKE YOURS. WE DO NOT REQUIRE LIGHT. WE DO NOT KNOW DARKNESS. WE DO NOT HAVE EYES NOR EARS NOR MOUTHS.
"Then how are you talking?" Daphne asked.
WE DO NOT TALK, the Symphony said. WHAT YOU ARE HEARING IS NOISE, THE MOTION OF AIR. WE ARE THAT MOTION. WE ARE ALL MOTION. WE CAN MOVE AND MAKE THE BRIGHTEST LIGHT YOU HAVE EVER SEEN...
Daphne shielded her eyes further as the light became brighter.
...OR WE CAN MAKE A DARKNESS SO IMPENETRABLE, YOU CANNOT CONCEIVE OF ANYTHING DARKER.
The light vanished and Daphne lowered her hands, but when she reached out to touch a wall, there was none. She was in a sea of darkness. She couldn't feel anything, couldn't see anything, couldn't hear anything. All she knew was that there was ground beneath her, but she could have been on an island surrounded by silent waves and she would never know about it.
She sank to the ground and wrapped her hands around her knees. Suddenly, she was very, very scared.
"What do you want?" Daphne asked.
WE ARE THE DISCORDANT SYMPHONY. WE WANT NOTHING. WE WANT WHAT YOU KNOW.
"But I don't know anything!" Daphne cried.
IF YOU DO NOT KNOW ANYTHING, THEN YOU KNOW NOTHING, the Symphony said.
"I wish I did know about the Nothing," she said. "I would tell you, really. But I don't."
VERY WELL.
"You believe me?" Daphne asked quietly.
WE CAN HEAR THE LIES FROM TRUTHS. BUT THE PROPHECY STATES THAT YOU WILL WIELD THE NOTHING AND THUS YOU SHALL DO SO WITHOUT KNOWLEDGE OF IT. THEREFORE, WE MUST KNOW MORE.
"What do you want to know?" she asked.
The bright light came back and Daphne shielded her face again.
WE WILL LEARN THE WAY WE ALWAYS LEARN.
The light became brighter and Daphne covered her eyes, but there was a buzzing her ears and it was making her skin crawl. She wanted to lie down and pull a blanket over her head, but she didn't have a blanket. She missed her home and her bed and her parents so very much.
WE WILL SHOW YOU.
And then the world disappeared.
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Chapter Thirteen: Much Ado About Nothing
Soon, Daphne felt rough ground beneath her and she opened her eyes to see that Sir Marylebone had set her down on top of a wide dirt plain on a mountain top. She took a deep breath, but the air was thin and ragged and she coughed loudly.
"All rise," Sir Marylebone said, "for Lord Westminster, leader of the Parliament of Fowls!"
Daphne looked around and saw that a variety of different birds had landed around her. And then a large bird, what looked like a large white bird of prey, larger than any bird she had ever seen, larger than she was, set down in front of her and all the other birds looked up at it in reverence.
Daphne tried to keep her calm and said, "Lord Westminster, I presume?"
"I am," the white bird said. "And you are Daphne Blackwell, the young girl who wishes to go to Home Again, are you not?"
"I am," Daphne said, trying not to make her voice quiver. "Is there some problem with that? Why is it that you have kidnapped me?"
Lord Westminster looked at her with its sharp eyes and said, "I am a Roc. I have lived for thousands of years. I have worn down mountains with my beak. I have carried away poor beggars and bejeweled kings and shown neither any mercy. Of all the things inside the Storylands and outside, there is only one thing which I fear. Do you know what that is?"
"No," Daphne said.
"I fear Nothing," Lord Westminster said and as he said the last word the other birds are shook with fear themselves. "Nothing cannot be stopped. Nothing cannot be tamed. Once let loose, Nothing will spread far and wide and it will devour us all. We will all become Nothing."
Daphne swallowed nervously, suddenly knowing why they had taken her.
"And you wish to hold Nothing in your hand," Lord Westminster said. "Do not deny it. There has been a prophecy -- as there always is in the Storylands, written a long time ago and revealed only recently -- about you, Daphne. About how you shall wield Nothing and when you do, it will all be over for the Storylands, for the world."
He approached Daphne and she felt very small as he blocked the sun over her head. "We will not kill you," Lord Westminster said, "for that shall give the advantage to our enemy, the Apolytikion. No, we shall only interrogate you. We shall learn what you know, we shall know to wield the Nothing."
Lord Westminster spread his wings and Daphne could think of nothing so frightening as this very moment. "And then," he said, "we shall not fear Nothing at all."
"All rise," Sir Marylebone said, "for Lord Westminster, leader of the Parliament of Fowls!"
Daphne looked around and saw that a variety of different birds had landed around her. And then a large bird, what looked like a large white bird of prey, larger than any bird she had ever seen, larger than she was, set down in front of her and all the other birds looked up at it in reverence.
Daphne tried to keep her calm and said, "Lord Westminster, I presume?"
"I am," the white bird said. "And you are Daphne Blackwell, the young girl who wishes to go to Home Again, are you not?"
"I am," Daphne said, trying not to make her voice quiver. "Is there some problem with that? Why is it that you have kidnapped me?"
Lord Westminster looked at her with its sharp eyes and said, "I am a Roc. I have lived for thousands of years. I have worn down mountains with my beak. I have carried away poor beggars and bejeweled kings and shown neither any mercy. Of all the things inside the Storylands and outside, there is only one thing which I fear. Do you know what that is?"
"No," Daphne said.
"I fear Nothing," Lord Westminster said and as he said the last word the other birds are shook with fear themselves. "Nothing cannot be stopped. Nothing cannot be tamed. Once let loose, Nothing will spread far and wide and it will devour us all. We will all become Nothing."
Daphne swallowed nervously, suddenly knowing why they had taken her.
"And you wish to hold Nothing in your hand," Lord Westminster said. "Do not deny it. There has been a prophecy -- as there always is in the Storylands, written a long time ago and revealed only recently -- about you, Daphne. About how you shall wield Nothing and when you do, it will all be over for the Storylands, for the world."
He approached Daphne and she felt very small as he blocked the sun over her head. "We will not kill you," Lord Westminster said, "for that shall give the advantage to our enemy, the Apolytikion. No, we shall only interrogate you. We shall learn what you know, we shall know to wield the Nothing."
Lord Westminster spread his wings and Daphne could think of nothing so frightening as this very moment. "And then," he said, "we shall not fear Nothing at all."
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