Chapter the Fourth of Part the Sixth

In which the narrative recounts acts from the life of Danzigger Singing Fiddle in the Spirit World of Baschdynn.

The stone that hit Danzigger on the side of his face, knocked the boy’s spirit out of him. The pain dropped away as he floated above himself and looked down at his bloody face. He watched Polnar and Passenell carry his body and his fiddle into the side of the hill and disappear through the opening before his people could kill him and his friends with the stones. Tall, thick trees and the steep inclines of the spirit world caught Danzigger’s attention. Several animals, sent to the spirit world by humans who needed the lives they had to offer, walked past him.

Since Danzigger did not know where the spirits wanted him to go, or what the spirits wanted him to do, he allowed his feet to guide the way. He half-walked, half-floated up a cliff and moved among trees that towered above him and blocked the light of the spirit sun. His feet brought him to a small clearing where he saw Maranzigga standing in the middle of it. The Spirit Speaker stood more fully erect than Danzigger had ever seen her do in her own body, but her face was drained of life.

“You have come, my faithful apprentice,” said Maranzigga.

“Of course I have come,” said Danzigger. “I always come when you summon me, even when I do not know I am being summoned.”

“This is the last summons you will receive from me,” said the Spirit Speaker.

“Why? Have the stones killed me?” Danzigger asked in alarm.

“The stones thrown at you have not killed you,” said Maranzigga. “The other singing boys will sing you back to life so that you, too, can sing again.”

“Surely—you—aren’t—you aren’t—“ Danzigger stammered.

“Surely you do not believe that I am immortal when no other human is,” said Maranzigga.

“But—I’ve learned so little!”

“You have learned much more than you know,” said Maranzigga. “Your singing has taught you much and it will teach you much more than I can not teach you. Your fiddle has taught you much and it, also, will teach you much more than I can teach you. Come.”

Maranzigga glided in among the trees. Danzigger followed effortlessly, as if the Spirit Speaker’s movement pulled him along. Tears began to run down his face. He made no effort to stop them. Even when the tears blurred his vision, his spirit body knew how to follow his teacher as far as he was required to accompany her in her journey.

“I will not tell you not to weep,” said Maranzigga. “It is the lot of mortals to weep for what is lost, even if nothing is lost in the spirit world.”

“How do you know nothing is lost?” asked Danzigger.

“Because I know it.”

Hearing Maranzigga speak as she did, Danzigger could not doubt that she spoke a truth much deeper than her life or Danzigger’s life.

“Sing and play the fiddle as we go,” Maranzigga ordered.

Danzigger pulled the fiddle out of its sling and played a musical figure that he thought would go well with the chant for a soul journeying to the edge of Beyond. Then he sang the chant, his heart flowing into a burst of notes. Singing and playing in this way, Danzigger journeyed with Maranzigga for a time that could have been forever, until they reached the edge of a cliff overlooking a broad, green pasture that surrounded a gleaming stone tent as large as the sky itself. Danzigger dropped his arms and stopped chanting.

“What is that?” Danzigger asked.

“You do not recognize it?” Maranzigga asked in return.

Danzigger’s eyes followed the dancing sparkles on the stone that danced to a rhythm that distant voices were singing, a chant that was very familiar to Danzigger.

“Surely it isn’t—“

“Yes, surely it is Merithwell,” said Maranzigga.

“Then, has Merithwell died?”

“Merithwell has not died, but it is threatened. Likewise, you have not died, although you, too, are threatened. Everybody and everything has a spirit double living in the spirit world. You are your own spirit double and this is Merithwell’s spirit double.”

As Maranzigga spoke the sky suddenly darkened and the sound of singing from Merithwell became faint. Numerous figures in gray robes appeared before the gigantic stone tent. One of their number waved his hands and a large animal covered with scales appeared beside him. The robed figure mounted the dragon and the two disappeared. The sky darkened and several stones of Merithwell blacked out.

“Who is that? What is he doing?” Danzigger asked in alarm.

“I do not know who they are and I do not know what they are doing, but I think that what they do will not be for the good of Merithwell.”

Words resounded like thunder from inside of Merithwell, shaking the ground as far as the cliff where Danzigger and Maranzigga stood. More stones of the tower darkened.

“Dunsland told us that the Master Magi of his camp warned him and his students of a group of errant magi who were very dangerous.”

The robed man with the dragon reappeared among the other robed figures. He raised his hands and sang in a booming, gravelly voice. Swirls of black and gray clouds flew at Merithwell like giant black birds and wrapped themselves around the towers as if they were trying to choke the life out of them.

“They are attacking Merithwell!” Danzigger cried. “We must go down and defend it.”

“You must stay here and sing,” said Maranzigga. “I will go down and proceed on the journey that the spirits are calling me to take.”

“But—“

“I SAID: SING!”

There was no arguing with that order. With a heavy and frightened heart, Danzigger played the fiddle and began to sing the song he heard the boys singing before the errant magi appeared. He knew that the boys were singing the song for Merithwell and they were singing it for him. As he sang and played the fiddle, Danzigger watched Maranzigga flow down the cliff in the direction of the magi. As he knew that this was the last he would ever see of the Spirit Speaker, he let the tears flow but he sang on, knowing that whatever Maranzigga did for Merithwell on her way Beyond, it would go for nothing if he did not follow her last order and sing, no matter what else happened.

Large, violent black clouds rose up from the outstretched hands of the sorcerers. These clouds melted into the clouds that already enfolded Merithwell in darkness. Maranzigga continued to move straight toward the magi. A bolt of lightning shot out from within Merithwell and dissolved as soon as it was outside the window. Then the magi saw Maranzigga coming towards them. They whirled to face her and attacked her with billowing clouds. As they did, the clouds parted from Merithwell and Danzigger caught a glimpse of it. The bolts of clouds aimed at Maranzigga struck her and she was gone. The tears gushed out, but Danzigger pushed himself to keep the song going. A renewed attack on Merithwell covered it with clouds even thicker than before. Danzigger felt the boys’ chanting come to a stop. Merithwell was doomed. But Danzigger could not accept that. If the boys could not sing, he could sing, and he did. He sang the song and sent it into the smothering clouds like a knife. It seemed to have no effect and Danzigger almost gave up, but he knew he could never give up following Maranzigga’s last command to him as long as he had any breath left him in the Spirit World. And so he sang even when he felt the chant was being stuffed back into his own throat:

Western wynde, when wilt thou blow,
The small raine down can raine.
Christ, if this dark would lift away
And we could sing our hearts again.

Suddenly, against all hope, the song sliced through the cloud, giving Danzigger a second glimpse of Merithwell. The errant magi turned on Danzigger, their eyes ablaze. Danzigger saw them lift their hands, but he never saw the blast that knocked him senseless.

Proceed to Chapter the Fifth of Part the Sixth

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