Little Boy Of The Mountain Q
--Q--
The sound was cut short. The boy's panic had increased for the strangeness of it all, but he had now mastered some aspect of himself again. He still could not see. What was that incantation? What were the last words or names he knew somehow had been left unsaid? He could not confront them. But these questions whirled away suddenly as the new-found total silence became a strong vision of a dark room. He felt cold, and he felt his body convulse, wherever it was.
There was a woman on a reclining chair, and she was in labour of birth. A man was there also, fretting over her. The man looked ever over his shoulder out the doorway where lights flickered with colours for which the watching boy had no names, while at the same time he was trying to attend to the woman. The man appeared to have long dark hair, but the shadows were deep and he could not see the woman's face or tresses clearly.
He knew then he was not in this room that he could see, and he could hear nothing of the scene. It was the strangest thing he had ever experienced.
There was another flash, and the man then bent over and kissed the woman gently. Then he raised himself up and gesticulated hastily about something happening outside. He seemed to need to leave, but was perhaps ensuring her that he would return. He left, and the woman remained, wracked by the pains of childbirth.
There were a few moments of stillness, and then a weird thing happened. Three strange folk calmly entered the room from the door that the man had left. One carried a large bundle of cloth. They approached the woman in labour, who sat now transfixed, for the strangers seemed to have an indescribable yet subtle glow about them. They were hard to look at directly, but not because of this soft glare, but rather ones' eyes seemed always to slip from them.
They were tall, and were wearing hoods.
They appeared to begin to speak with the woman, who seemed to relax in the chair. The flickering lights outside were dimmed now, and it was hard to see the forms of the visitors or the fashion of their raiment.
None of them seemed to acknowledge his own curious 'presence' in their midst.
Then the scene changed, or rather his viewing position in the room changed. He saw that one of the people had been kneeling by the woman in the chair, and that the reclining woman held now a small child in her arms, while another of the strangers was bundling something else up in the swaddling cloth that they had brought with them. The person kneeling by the woman got up and turned to face the other two, and just then there was another bright flash of light from outside and the boy saw in that instant that it was the strange fairy woman from the mountains, the one with the feather cloak!
Then he noticed that the baby held by the new mother was glowing as the strangers did!
The three then bowed and left, and the woman he'd seen upon the outcrop was last to turn and go. But she stood for a while staring at the newborn and it's mother resting on the couch. As they exited the door the child's glowing faded away.
He reeled. Then the boy's swimming visions steadied. The feeling of pinpricks all over began to subside. Again before him he saw the eyes of the great serpent holding him in thrall. All else was a blur, but he perceived he was back in the valley forest. The chirping of birds began to return to his senses. Had the serpent given him the visions and put the sounds in his memory? A part of his distracted mind quested after his body, trying to recover his ability to move. He was no longer fearful, though he couldn't as yet explain to himself why that was so. All he knew was that some hazy yet important things needed re-evaluating.
He could not feel his feet.
He forgot then the vision, for a time. He was wide awake again, but still he struggled to move or do anything.
The serpent was there still, it's unblinking eyes, deep black but shining, and with twin pinpricks of light, surveyed him.
It seemed bright in the glade. He blinked in the glare. He was sure he was succeeding now in clenching his fists and wiggling his fingers. Without breaking the stare, he then managed with difficulty to slowly raise his hand, until, as a blur, it entered his fixed line of sight. After this concerted effort, much of the dread of the strange visions or memories had washed away, like heartburn that suddenly evaporates.
Just then, in his innocence, he reached out: to pat the wyrm as though it were Clipper. He was compelled. For reasons unknown to himself he felt obliged to touch the head of the serpent...
And?