Wild Magic

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When Faan woke, she was in a strange bed, rain pattering against the window across the room; Tai was bending over her.

“Rey?”

“Hush, honey. You’re exhausted. Sleep and we’ll talk tomorrow.”

Faan moved her mouth; she meant to protest, but instead sank into a heavy sleep.

Goddance. The Twelfth Year

Honey Mother hums an angry scratching hum; she dances faster, flipping the fimbo about, jabbing at Chumavayal, never quite touching him again. Lightning jags from the tip, lacing a web of light about the broad black body of the Iron Father.

Penhari Banadah is moved onto the playing field, a potential queen ranging behind the Honeychild. The women of Bairroa Pill watch their altars burn, then take their children across the Wood Bridge and settle in the low stone houses built around the Abey Groves.

Iron Father’s eyes burn red; his fire breath envelopes the Honey Mother, turns the Forge iron cherry red, sends the Fire tongues reaching for Abeyhamal, jabbing about her body, not quite touching her.

The Cheoshim STRIKER bands march to the Prophet’s calling, flogging sinners and burning down Bee-houses. Wenyarum Taleza bows to his son.

Honey Mother raises her hum to a gale roar, her wings vibrate so powerfully they lift her off her-feet, she drives the fimbo high over her head as if she means to pierce the firmament.

Black clouds swirl violently above the ivory point; the air turns chill; the flames shrink back, huge chill drops rain onto the Forge Floor.

Iron Father opens his mouth wide, thrusts his red tongue out and out. He clangs Hammer Head against

Saber. Red fire leaps from the dashing steel, turns the rain to steam, burns away the clouds.

And the GodDance goes on.

Through Surrogate and Principal, the GodDance goes on.

Sibyl

The Sibyl tucks in a fluttering veil and wearily declaims:

The wheel is turning, the Change is here

The New Order burgeons, the Old’s on its Bier

Amrapake’s fist grows tight

And catches naught in its grip

Round and round in torches’ light

The Anchorite strips kin-from-ship

Honeychild is Mystery

Feral Magic boiling free

The City burns with fire and fear

The Culmination hurries near.