Napashtra And The Wind

Napashtra knelt on the gnomestone tiles and glimpsed images of [[cloud riders]] and [[clipper ships]] within the shiny surfaces [[2<-continue]]

Misty men mounted on cottony clumps, clutching riding crops of crepe to spur on their nimble nimbus steeds [[2<-continue]]

where captains decapitated by capstans during anchor accidents still bellowed orders to skeletal sailors scampering across the ragged rigging, illuminated by Elmo’s incandescence, as their bones clamored, *clickety clack, clickety clack* [[2<-continue]]

Napashtra peered deeper and beheld other images within the tiles – a maiden’s cheek, kissed by a breeze, soft as a prince’s murmurs. And the tonsured heads of trapped monks, untroubled by tousles in their drafty cells [[3<-continue]]

Vorebel said Napashtra had lost her mind. When Vorebel gazed up at the sky she saw images in the clouds – dogs and dragons, flowers and faces – but in the shiny palace floors she saw nothing but the reflection of her own feet [[4<-continue]]

But Napashtra had been blessed with special sight, ever since the night she slipped during a dance and struck her head upon the floor [[5<-continue]]

The tiles had spoken to her, revealing their secrets, whispering about their makers – gnomes who encaptivated the air within stone sheets shorn from the crystal mines of [[Qurrymede]], memories of olden winds and long-dead breezes, trapped like insects encased in ancient amber [[6<-continue]]

Mines burned into the bedrock by the glares of captive demons, minions of Thanatas exiled from heaven by wise Thulchulu. [[Q<-continue]]

Napashtra could absorb the magic into her very soles and become one with the wind and embody the breeze – if she did her wishing well. [[7<-continue]]

The miners gouged out gnomestone and trollrock and elfdust with pickaxes, covering their furrowed faces with scraps of once-worn shrouds, protection from imphysema [[5<-continue]]

Or so the tiles told her. [[8<-continue]]

She could waft herself out a window and collude with the clouds and sail on sunbeams, beyond the reach of the king and his men, beyond the walls of Amakarazan, beyond the shores of Totulanda [[9<-continue]]

Tonight it was her turn to dance for the king, since Vorebel had danced the night before, and as luck would have it the stars were aligned just so, and the full moon promised maximum magic [[10<-continue]]

So Napashtra wore her special costume, the one made from faeriespun – magenta fibers grown in the enchanted fields of [[Xiepifeti]], nourished by starshine, harvested by unicorns with their plow-like horns, and meshed on [[orichalcum]] looms by sorceristic seamstresses. [[11<-continue]]

where faeries frolic in the fog-clogged furrows on misty nights and drink distilled moonbeams out of goblets made from the skulls of wicked men [[10<-continue]]

A metal of blended colors, the red of sunsets, the gold of dawns, forged in the foundries of Atlantis and brought to our world by vril men seeking new gods to offend [[10<-continue]]

Such a costume could soak up the magic and intensify its energy, permeating Napashtra with the power to do miracles [[12<-continue]]

Or so claimed the old woman who sold cloth and curios and sundry other things in the market square on rainy days, wrapping them up in strange stories at no extra charge [[13<-continue]]

And so Napashtra knelt before her king, as was the custom, then rose to her feet, her bare toes tingling on the enchanted tiles. [[14<-continue]]

She stretched out her arms and wished her wish, to become the breeze, to wind up in the wind [[15<-continue]]

And she began to dance [[16<-continue]]

But when the music of flute and lute ended and her dance was done, Napashtra was winded – but she was not the wind, her body still enslaved by solidity, grounded by gravity, imprisoned by opacity [[17<-continue]]

The king and his courtiers applauded appreciatively and Napashtra and the musicians bowed and departed from the throne room [[She returned to the women’s quarters]] [[She chastised the two musicians]]

and wept herself to sleep and swept herself into dust-coated dreams. But then came the mourn and dreams gave way. [[next night<-continue]]

She took the musicians aside and scolded Olshant, a player of lutes, and Emach, a master of flutes, blaming them for her failure, for surely their tune had done her a bad turn [[18<-continue]]

The next night she returned to the throne room and stepped once more upon those taunting tiles where lies lurked beneath every glimmer of hope

They must quicken their tempo so she could speed up her spins, for only the swiftest feet could outrun reality and meld with the wind’s wizardry [[19<-continue]]

When she told them this, Olshant and Emach laughed at her, declaring it impossible – not the magic, but the music, which they could not play any [[faster]] [[20<-continue]]

Olshant fretted that his strings would snap. Emach feared his lips would split. [[20<-continue]]

But they could play the tune backwards. That they would do for her. And Napashtra proclaimed them fools and asked what good would come of that. [[21<-continue]]

They told her she should turn counterclockwise, and Time would be drawn along, unable to resist her charms, unwinding, unwinding, till she was a little girl again... a toddler... a baby... unborn [[22<-continue]]

But she would retain the wisdom of a full-grown woman, and the power of speech, and could request different parents from the nursemaids of fate, and be born into a [[courtier’s]] clan [[23<-continue]]

and grow up in a world of luxury and splendor and one day find herself sitting beside a soft-lipped prince on a silken pillow, watching other girls dance while she sipped liqueurs from long-stemmed crystal glasses [[23<-continue]]

Much to their astonishment, Napashtra agreed and did not notice the mockery in their eyes [[24<-continue]]

But the two musicians could not bear to disappoint this silly girl, so the next time Napashtra danced they played the twisted tune from back to front as they had promised [[25<-continue]]

Napashtra turned to the left instead of the right, countering the wisdom of clocks, her feet moving faster and faster till they became a blur, insubstantial as the air itself [[26<-continue]]

The floor beneath her blurred as well and Napashtra plunged into nothingness [[27<-continue]]

Down she descended in her plummeting pirouette, drilling into the depths - not a day younger but much, much deeper [[28<-continue]]

She broke through a rocky roof and fell into a capacious cavern, her outstretched arms flapping frantically, her pantaloons billowing like sails, slowing her descent [[29<-continue]]

She landed gently on the cavern floor, gaping up at towering stalagmites filled with slitted windows, like the eyes of angry cats, some ablaze with crimson light, others curtained by shifting shadows [[30<-continue]]

She spied a steaming stream of inflamed fluids bridged by bones and stepping stones. [[bridge<-she chose the bridge]] [[stones<-she chose the stepping stones]]

As she reached the far end the bridge began rumbling, then broke apart, the pieces tumbling. With a splash and a glug they fell into the stream as Napashtra let out a startled scream [[33<-continue]]

It swayed as she crossed, *clickety clack, clickety clack* and some vertebrae whined, *Get off of my back!* [[far end<-continue]]

As she neared the stones the stream’s lurid light revealed dark holes in each one. The eye sockets of skulls Reluctant to step on the heads of the dead, she chose the bridge instead. [[bridge<-continue]]

She came to a river and beheld a boat, poled by a black-robed figure, his face cloaked in shadow pierced by two red beads of light [[34<-continue]]

He uttered a chilling chantey: *Styx and stones and sinners’ bones are found where the Dis-located roam* [[35<-continue]]

And Napashtra shivered, despite the heat, for this confirmed her fear. She had danced her way down to hell [[36<-continue]]

She resumed the dance, spinning rightly, but could not fly up to the heights of Hades and return to the world she knew [[37<-continue]]

Then the three-mouthed monarch of that infernal realm caught the scent of a living being befouling the incendiary air. He cast her out. [[38<-continue]]

And she found herself back in the palace of the King, where many noted the soot upon her soles but none dared ask its origins.