Flyboys, Part Twenty-Two

[jeriendhal]

“This is madness. It can't be real,” Rolas said, then sneezed and wiped his muzzle with his kerchief. They had all headed back to the manor, avoiding the crowd of spectators that had begun to arrive after news of his spectacular flight and ignominious landing had spread through the area. Upon their arrival, the servants had descended and quickly stripped both himself and his brother out of their sodden clothes, scrubbed the water out of their pelts with warm towels, and dressed them in fresh shirts and breeches. Thankfully, their questions had been limited along the lines of “Are you all right, Sah?” and “More tea?” Rolas wasn't sure he could handled anything deeper just then, he was still mulling over Artineth's statement earlier about recognizing the strange object that they had found.

“Yes, Rollie. I specifically designed an aeroplane with a faulty propeller and planted that lump of metal in the field myself, after getting Artie to agree to tell his fantastical story to you, all as an elaborate practical joke,” Rulfen said.

Rolas leaned back in his chair in his study. “I'm more willing to believe that than the idea of strange beings who control magical flying eggs taking an interest in airships and aeroplanes.”

“Rollie, I'm sure there's a sensible explanation to all of this. Maybe it's just a fantastic new technology that some other inventor created on the other side of the Mother Sea.”

“You really believe that?”

“No,” Rulfen admitted.

“What then?”

“I don't know.”

Bel, who had been sitting in an overstuffed chair listening to them talk, started tapping the side of her muzzle, a sign Rolas had learned to interpret as she was mulling over an idea she wasn't particularly comfortable with. “What are you thinking of, my love?” he asked.

“I'd like to try something with Artineth, assuming he's willing,” she said. “It's a technique my old professor developed for his examinations of patients that were suffering from hysteria.”

“Artie isn't hysterical,” Rolas said.

Bel smiled. “The definition is a bit broader than the classic image of a crazed patient running about and gibbering to himself. It just means that the person has suffered a deep personal trauma that adversely affects their behavior.”

“Well, his always been a bit off since his Emmie died,” Rulfen said. “You think the stress of the airship crash last year hurt him further?”

“I think something may have happened in, or maybe before, the crash that's worth investigating.”

Rolas frowned. “How do you propose to go about it? Artie says he doesn't remember a thing, aside from his odd dreams, and you can hardly call those reliable reports.”

“I think I have a way of making Artie remember, more clearly than in dreams,” she said, leaning forward in her chair. “Here's what I propose...”


* * *

“I saw a fellow a' the P'lla'ium do this once,” Artineth said, looking uncertain. “You aren't going t' make me cluck like a kin goose, are y'?”

“It's nothing like that, Artineth. Mesmerism as used by mental physicians is just a way of helping one's memory,” Bel reassured him. “Used in a clinical setting it can be quite useful.” After his wife had explained to Rolas and Rulfen what she intended, the boys had rounded up Artineth and more or less dragged him back to Rulfen's cottage, so that Bel could conduct her experiment free of prying eyes or wagging tongues from the other servants. All four of them sat in the cottage's main room, the curtains drawn, around a small circular table,

“If y' say so, Lady Bellander,” Artineth said, still looking dubious. “Do y' need m' pocket watch?”

“I'm sorry?”

“The fella a' the P'lla'ium spun a pocket watch when h' was mesmerin' somebody.”

“I don't need a pocket watch, Artineth. I just need you to focus all of your attention on me,” Bel said, smiling. She then wagged a finger at Rolas and Rulfen. “As for you two, I need you both to keep quiet. Most especially I don't want you speculating about anything Artie says while he's under my influence. You're right about one thing, Artineth, while you're mesmerized you are extremely vulnerable to suggestions. Anything said in your presence may start your imagination going, and muddle whatever real memories of the events you have still.”

“Oh, I don' have an imagination, Lady Bel, ask anyone,” Artineth reassured her.

Rolas saw Bel's eyes twinkle, but she kept a straight face by an act of pure will. “As you say, Artie,” she agreed, “but let's be careful anyway.”

“We'll keep our mouths shut, Love,” he told her.

“Good,” Bel said. Then she looked straight into Artineth's eyes, with a gaze that seemed able to penetrate solid walls. “Now, Artineth, I want you to listen to me very carefully...” Rolas watched and listened as she started talking, her eyes focused, almost unblinking, attention completely on their aging manservant. First she led him through some relaxation exercises, the same ones she'd used on Rolas during the first few terrifying weeks after he'd been confirmed as the new Greycoat lord.

“Now, Artineth, I want you to imagine a room,” she said, her voice steady, strong and warm. “It's a room you know, somewhere you feel absolutely comfortable, absolutely safe. It doesn't have to be in any particular time or place, just somewhere you know and can recall easily. When you are there, absolutely nothing can harm you. Whatever you remember won't be able to harm, if you choose to go back to that place. Do you understand me, Artineth?”

“Yes, Milady,” Artineth said. He didn't look particularly hypnotized to Rolas, just awake and focused.

“Do you have a place in mind?” Bel prompted.

“Yes. 'm home, in m' cottage. Emmie's put t' kettle on the stove. The window is open, and I can smell the flowers from outside. Emmie loves her garden, keeps it so lovely.”

“That's very good, Artineth. Now, if you don't mind, Rolas, Rulfen and I are going to step away for a bit. You just rest in your cottage until we get back, all right?”

“Yes, Milady,” Artineth said agreeably.

Bel smiled tightly and finally turned away to face Rolas. “You can talk now, he won't hear us.”

“Are you sure?” Rolas said uncertainly. He waved a hand in front of his old servant's face. Artineth didn't even blink.

“Don't do that, Rollie, it's rude,” Bel said. “Yes, he's completely under now. He's hearing us of course, it's just his brain isn't processing any of what we're saying. Artineth's off in his own little world right now.”

“I almost wish we could leave him like this,” Ruflen said thoughtfully. “Poor fellow hasn't looked this relaxed in years.”

“It's a side effect of the mesmerism,” Bel said. “Very useful for calming down patients. For now though, let's see what we can find out. Remember, no talking unless we're out of the room, so to speak.” Rolas and Rulfen nodded, and she regained Artineth's attention. “Artineth, we're back now,” she said. “Are you ready to try and remember for us?”

“Yes, Milady,” he answered.

“Now, I want you to remember the day when Rolas and Rulfen tested their glider and the airship crashed. I want you to go back and remember just what happened. Is that all right?”

“Yes, Milady.”

“It's morning. You've just woken up. What are you doing?”

“Find m' breeches and shirt, wash m' face, fix a cuppa.” Artineth made a face. “Tastes awful. Emmie always made a good cuppa.”

“You've finished breakfast. Now what are you doing?”

“Rounding up some t' hands from the farms nearby t' help pull the airship from her hanger. Got to be careful, t' boys loaded tha' awful glider of theirs underneath her last night, they don't want to bang the wings against the door frame. Wish it would.”

“What?” Rulfen exclaimed, only receive a glare from Bel.

“Why would you want to bang the wings, Artineth?”

“So they wouldn't fly. Airships are allrigh', they got big balloons inside 'em to keep 'em up in the air. They keep saying tha' silly glider o' theirs will fly like a bird. What if it don't? What's poor Artie supposed t' say t' their lady mum if he let's 'em kill themselves? It's n' right for them t' do that.”

Rolas frowned. Arineth had never made any pretense about trusting either their engineering skills or their glider, but he'd never said a word about actually being frightened for their lives.

“How do things go when you bring the airship out?”

“Fine, fine, the boys bring her out straight and true. She's a beautiful ship. Looks so beautiful, with the sun rising up over her hull. Here come the boys now, chatterin' to each other like it's a picnic they're goin' too. Now w' all climb aboard, an' they double-check th' engines. Master Rulfen says I did a good job lubricatin' them the night before. Everythin' got to be perfect for m' boys.”

Rolas glanced over to Rulfen, who rubbed a tear out of his eye. And who could blame him? Artie had been the closest elder male to them since the tragic death of their own father well over a decade ago. A childless man with no remaining family at all, except the two young lads that he served. I'm sorry, Artie, Rolas thought silently, we have not given you half the respect you deserve for all the troubles we've caused you.

“Everyone is aboard,” Bellander prompted. “Now what happens?”

“Th' ground crew cuts us loose an' Master Rolas releases th' ballast. We start floating up, bit slower than w' usually do with tha' blasted glider under us. The engines turn over and catch, just fine, and I head her out. Just got t' keep enough speed to run th' air over her control surfaces. Not much to do excep' keep th' airship circlin' while we gain altitude. Th' boys keep themselves busy fussin' over their glider until we reach fifteen thousand arms. Everything is smooth.”

Bellander glanced over to both Rolas and Rulfen and they nodded to her, confirming Artineth's version of events. “All right, you've reached fifteen thousand arms. Now what happens?”

“It's cold,” Artineth said, rubbing his arms. “I've put m' gloves on. Hard to breathe, not much air. Like a mountaintop, the boys say. Don't know about that, what kind of a fool climbs a mountain, that's wha' I want t' know. I call back to the boys, tryin' to let 'em know I'm worried withou' soundin' like I'm weeping in m' cups or anything. They're really goin' to fly the damned thing. Why d' they have t' do this, instead of flying airships like normal folk?”

“Artineth, just concentrate on what's happening,” Bellander said gently.

“Right. I tie the rudder and lift wheels in place, then I head back to change out the fuel cylinder for the steam engine. They're both going to drop with the thing. I try t' talk one of 'em into staying behind, they won't listen t' poor ol' Artie. So I just smile at them and pull the lever on the count of four. They drop away and I pray t' the Holy Den Mother they'll be all right.” Artineth's face looked stricken. “Won't know for hours, until I get back on the ground.”

“All right, now you're alone, Artineth. From here I want you to tell me every detail of what happens, no matter how insignificant it might seem to you.”

“Yes, Lady Bellander. I reverse the lever and start pumping it back to close the underside doors. Then I lock 'em in place. Take m' safety harness off now tha' they're closed and head back to the controls. I've got m' hand on the lift wheel when I vent the helium. Start droppin' nice an' slow, maybe a hundred arms a minute. Take almost as long to get back down as it does to rise up.”

“Your altitude is dropping, Artineth, now what happens?”

“There are clouds underneath me. I keep m' eye on 'em, make sure to turn the airship so we don't pass right through 'em. I like to see where I'm goin'.” Artineth frowned. “That's passin' strange...”

“What's the matter, Artineth?”

Artineth rubbed his face, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing in his mind's eye. “There's a shadow on the clouds. Can't be th' airship, th' sun is in the wrong direction. Can't be another airship, I would've spotted her by now. It's the wrong shape t' be just another cloud above.”

Rolas leaned forward as Artineth continued his narrative. “What shape is it, Artie?” he asked, earning a glare from Bel.

“Round as a dinner plate. The funny thing is, it's not moving with the wind. It's moving back against it. I'd swear it had to be an airship's shadow, except there can't be anything higher than where I'm sittin'. Nobody goes up this high.”

“What do you do next, Artineth?” Bel prompted.

“I make a wide turn, thinking maybe I'm just looking at the sun the wrong way or somethin' and it's really the ship's shadow. But th' thing doesn't move at all.” Artineth's eyes suddenly grew wide. “There's a big cloud back passin' by, near the funny shadow. It... it... brushes against somethin', like smoke driftin' past a tree. Except there's nothin' there. The cloud bumped up against somethin' that isn't there.”

Both Rolas and Rulfen sat up straight in their chairs. “You mean, something invisible?” Bellander asked.

“Yes, Milady. Invisible. Can't believe it. Gotta get down below the clouds quick, th' thin air is makin' me see things.” Artineth's eyes grew wide and his breathing quickened. “Now the shadow is movin', heading towards me. The air starts lookin' funny, there's a shape there, nothing I can see except a shimmer in the air, like the heat risin' off a long road on a hot summer's day. I'm shakin' m' head, tellin' myself it's the thin air. Then something... something flies out of the haze, like a bird. It looks like that strange hunk of metal we found in the field. Flies right up to the control cabin's windows, camera lens starin' right at m''. Then there's a flash of light and all of the sudden I'm frozen, stiff as a board, can't move at all.”

“Then what happens, Artineth?”

The old Vulpine's breathing quickened. “White light... white light everywhere. Can't see... Heart's pounin'. Oh, by the Den Mother, what is this place?”

“Artie! Artineth!” Bel called out sharply. “Go back to your cottage, go back to your safe place.”

“Ain't no where safe! Not from them!”

“You are safe there,” Bel told him firmly. “You can smell the tea brewing, feel the breeze through the windows. You are safe.”

Gradually, Artineth's breathing slowed again, the frightened expression on his face relaxed to blankness once again. “Safe,” he repeated.

“Artineth, we're going to step outside for a moment again. We'll be right back, everything is fine,” she told him. Then Bellander turned to face Rolas, a deeply troubled expression on her face. “I think we'd better stop this,” she said.

“What, now?!” Ruflen exclaimed. “We have to find out what happened to him!”

“Rulf, whatever happened to Artie scared him half to death,” Rolas countered.

“What, you believe him now?”

Rolas shook his head. “I don't what to believe. Bel, could this all be from his imagination? We were at a great height when we released the glider. It's quite possible that he was suffering from altitude sickness.”

“I don't know. For a hallucination it's remarkably consistent. Plus, his reaction for a mesmerized patient is very intense. Normally you only see that in patients that are remembering a true trauma.”

“Could it harm him if we continue?”

“Mentally... well, it we already know how it affected him before. I can give him a suggestion to repress whatever he remembers here, but I can't guarantee that his dreams won't return. I'm more worried about his physical state. 'Scared to death' is very melodramatic term, but it might be quite real if his health isn't the best.”

Rolas considered this for a moment. “How hard would it be to pull him back into his Safe Place if he becomes overwrought?”

“Reasonably simple,” she admitted.

“Keep going then. The only lead we have on what that thing we found in the field was lies in his memories. We need to find out who built it, what its purpose was.”

Bel nodded in reluctant agreement and motioned for them to be quiet again. “Artineth, we're back. Do you want to go on remembering what happened?”

Artineth blinked, focusing on her once more. “I... yes, milady. If you and the boys are here with me.”

Rolas reached out and took his manservant's hand, joined a moment later by Rulfen and Bel. “We're here, Artie. I swear to you on my title of Lord Greycoat and on my House's honor, we will always be here for you.”

The old Vulpine let out a quiet sigh. “That's a'right then. I want to remember it all, Milady.”

“Let's keep going then,” she agreed. “You were on the airship just now, you couldn't move. Then what happened, Artineth?”

“I'm in a white room, as big as m' cottage,” Artineth said. “Don't know how I got there. I can hear... I think I can hear birds singin'. 's funny, don't see a birdcage. Can't see where the light is coming from. I try t' get up, but I can't move.”

“Is there anyone in the room with you?”

“No, I'm alone. I'm startin' to get scared, but then a piece of the wall rolls away. A door I guess, 'cept I never seen a door jus' slide into a wall. Then someone enters the room.”

“Who is it?”

“Ain't a who, it's an it. Biggest fella I ever seen. Got gray skin, but no hair at all, like a healer shaved his skin to cut into him, except he got shaved all over. Legs are bent funny, too high up. Don't understand how he can walk. Face is all smashed in, don't have a proper muzzle at all, just a bump on his face where his snot holes are.”

“What does he do when he enters the room?”

“Walks over to me. He's got a strange silver rod in his hand. Waves it over m' head, like a magician. I can feel... I can feel it ticklin' me, inside m' head. He puts it down, then jabbers at m' in some foreign tongue. Then the door opens again. 'nother fella enters, taller even than the first one, almost twice as tall as me. He's wearin' robes like a priestess. Face all smashed in and hairless like the first fella, but... it's all angles, not round that the grey skinned one. This one's skin is green, and he's got little horns on his head. The green skinned one says something to the other, and the grey skinned fellow leaves. Then the green one touches my head, and I can feel something twist up inside. Then he says, “Do you understand me?”

“He spoke to you?” Bel asked.

“Yes, Milady. Except he wasn't speakin' the Mother's tongue. It was all the jibber jabber, except in my head I could understand him.”

“What did you tell him, Artineth?”

“I told him that yes, I could understand him, and for the love of the Den Mother where was I and who was he?”

“Did he answer you?”

Artineth's tongue ran over his teeth and he said, “Yes. He said, 'We are the Varn, the chosen of the gods. Rejoice, for we have found you, and your race will find honor in serving our Dominion.'"

TBC