(II) Composer

16 (II)Composer

Shiv then noticed how many fingers the Composer had. There were so many—so many for so many strings. It was almost like they were overlapping, passing through each other like wisps of mist as played across her harp. It was uncanny. The lower his gaze shifted, the more the humanity in her aesthetics started to fade, replaced by the properties of a spider. Her lower body fused perfectly into the rear bulb of a spider’s abdomen. Eight black legs as long as skyscrapers ended in more hands—more fingers—these a mix between a spider’s palps and human digits. Just looking at them made Shiv feel uneasy. She gripped and stroked the webbing beneath, and her stinger— that wasp-like appendage—glistened. It was so much bigger and so much more wicked-looking than anything akin to a weapon Shiv had faced before—and he’d been stung by a weaver back when he passed through the feral nest’s territory. Unlike its stingers, though, hers seemed carved and tipped with nightglass.

The Composer played on, humming a sweet, gentle note—and Shiv’s worries melted away. There was nothing to be concerned about. No one would harm him here, not without angering the Composer.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood with the Umbrals, waiting for the Composer to finish her tune. But as she played her final note, he felt his heart ache, hoping to hear more. He was almost disappointed, but then the music ended—and he realized he’d been staring at her intently, barely blinking the entire time.

Slowly, the Composer regarded them. A curtain of smooth, white hair draped over one of her wide black eyes. The Umbrals bowed. The Weaver bowed. Shiv mimicked them. The automaton speaker, noticing his tardiness, simply laughed silently.

Then, in a flash of movement, the Composer was before him. She was faster than the raven-helmed stranger at the height of the man’s power—faster by far, and without any lingering destruction. The air did not break. No shockwaves came. She was simply there, still a few hundred meters away, but her size made it appear as if she now stood right in front of him. In a moment’s notice, something inside Shiv quivered.

It was then he felt another presence—an extremely subtle but absolutely immense presence. A final mana field was engulfing his, surrounding him, wrapped around him in a gentle embrace so soft he couldn’t notice it at first.

The Deathless blinked. She had Biomancy too, and hers extended—extended so far beyond his sight, so, so far. Did it encompass the city? Wait, if it did, then why didn’t she just use that to crush the raven-helmed stranger? Why didn’t she just…

“You have many, many questions. Your mind is like a maelstrom,” the Composer said with a melodious voice, speaking directly to him. Her words were soft, but there was an iron beneath the silk. And no—more than iron—it was something nearly unbreakable. Something not known to man, at least not yet.

Shiv centered himself. He was talking now. To a goddess.

“You can’t blame me now, can you?” he said, trying to sound casual and keep the apprehension out of his voice.

The Composer simply smiled. “I suppose not.” She leaned back, and for a brief moment she looked skyward as the harp in her hand untangled itself, becoming strings, merging into the weave of her nest.

Shiv felt speechless.

The Composer spoke again, ignoring Shiv’s wide eyes and slightly open mouth. “Oh, daughter mine,” she said, speaking to the Weaveress that accompanied his group. “You bring something to me. You bring something that I must see, that I cannot ignore.”

“I do, Exalted Mother,” the Weaveress said. “I bring you…” She held up the dagger containing Valor. “...the Cage of Valor Thann, with the great hero still within.”

The Composer just stared at the dagger for a long moment, appearing lost in memories. “Valor,” she breathed. “Are you there? Why are you so silent?”

Valor spoke then.He finished the last part on a sour note.

The Composer laughed—and Shiv was surprised at how girlish it was. It was like the giggle of a small child; pure.

“In my defense, you were trying to assassinate me.”

Shiv turned. He couldn’t help himself; he stared at the dagger. “You were trying to assassinate a ” he said, incredulity apparent. He couldn’t imagine how one managed to assassinate something larger than a mountain. The goddess part didn’t even come into it yet. The Umbrals eyed Shiv with a mixture of exasperation and near-offense, but the Composer simply laughed again.

“Oh, He Who Stills Eternity would have found a way, I’m sure—as long as I didn’t stop him.” The Composer leaned closer. “And I did. I did stop you that time, didn’t I?”

Valor took a long time to answer. “Yes, you did. But—” He paused. “But—”

“Yes, I know—you have your pride. You would have achieved it eventually and all that boasting. But still, I’m glad you have come to me after all this time. I’m glad that you have agreed to my terms. To serve under my nation as a true agent of salvation and justice.”

Valor let out a long, suffering sigh. “Yes, well, you must forgive me, Composer, but I’ve heard this many, many times from practically everyone among the Five Great Faiths. I don’t mean to offend.” Before the Composer could interrupt, he continued. It was like he knew she was about to speak. “I know you’re not like them. I’ve known you for a long time, but politics… they have a habit of making us compromise who we are.”

The Composer blinked, drawing in a deep breath before releasing it as a soft sigh. “They have a habit of doing that, don't they? Well, it’s good that you’re here. We can discuss the terms of your release and what’s still required.”

” Valor asked, sounding surprised. “You said you could get me out of this cage. You said you could break the seal!”

“I said I ,” the Composer replied. “I didn’t say I could do it immediately.”

Valor growled.

“There are several things that still need to be acquired, and a certain Gate that needs to be closed.”

The great hero known as Valor Thann simply let out a long hiss.

“It’s probably for the best,” the Composer said. “Still, it’s good to see you again, Valor. Even this sealed sliver of you.”

Valor let out a huff, but there wasn’t any rancor in it.

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“And you, child of the surface,” the Composer continued.

“Me?” Shiv said, surprised.

“Of course—who else? Aside from the other boy, the one you seem to know and who is currently being mended by my Biomancers.”

Shiv thought about Adam and winced. “Yeah, I don’t really—”

“Come now,” the Composer said, her voice low with warning. “Come, please. Not here. Don’t lie to me here. lie to me here.” With each word she spoke, her eyes narrowed further, and her tone grew colder, and Shiv clenched his shaking fists.

“I, uh…”

“But we don’t need to talk about that first,” the Composer said with a smile, throwing him off with her change in tone. “Let’s talk about you. You, who hails from the surface. Tell me of your tale. I’m sure it is a wonderful, exquisite story of how you ended up in the deep umbra. It is a long way to fall, after all.”

“Yeah,” he replied, “a long way to fall indeed. But since you can see so much, I’m sure you saw the little fight between me and the assassin—the one who wore the false face of a raven.”

“Yes. You slew him.” She nodded thoughtfully. “You took many ugly wounds.”

“And he died. That’s a good deal for me.”

“You’re very determined.”

“No. It’s just simple arithmetic.”

“Perhaps for you.”

And now, Shiv felt an undercurrent of subtext. There was something she wasn’t saying, at least in front of the Umbrals and the Weaveresses. His stomach dropped.

He met her gaze, and to his surprise, she winked at him. But she said nothing regarding the matter of his Unique skill. Instead, she pressed him to elaborate on his story—to tell them how he ended up down here. And so he did. He went into as much detail as he could, starting from the moment the raven threw him off Blackedge to where he fell when he encountered the Umbral group led by Sister Nomos—their fate, and his long trek to reach Weave. He also briefly touched on Sir Marikos, but the mention of the dragon simply made the Composer groan.

It was such a human-like reaction, again, that Shiv took pause. The other Umbrals looked at each other worriedly.

“I swear, every time that fool does something stupid and horrible, he comes here, screaming for me to kill him,” the Composer muttered. “I should have never given him that Blessing. I should have never told him that he was a good man. Why would I ever do that? Was I a fool? Was I, Speaker?”

The mechanical Speaker simply shook her head. “No, Exalted Mother, you were simply too kind.”

“That’s called being a fool, Speaker!” the Composer said, her hands shaking as she spoke. She looked between her Umbrals, and all of them flinched under her gaze. Only Shiv continued staring, transfixed by the scene.

“You, boy—do you think I’m a fool?” she asked.

“I, uh…” Shiv muttered, trying to give an honest answer. “I don’t know. I kind of like you, and people have called me a fool, so… it takes one to know one, I guess?”

He was trying to be funny, but he caught Uva’s jaw drop in pure horror.

But the Composer giggled, and then she started laughing—laughing and laughing until she was holding her stomach and her head was thrown back in guffaws, her dancing in the air like the cresting of great waves.

“Takes one to know one,” she said between laughs. “Oh, you’re bold—or just foolish.”

“Probably the latter," Shiv replied.

That made her laugh even more.

Shiv thought as his heart rate accelerated.

As the Composer’s mirth finally subsided, she wiped what seemed to be glistening, crystalline tears from her face and placed them somewhere below.

“Ah," she sighed. “I haven’t laughed like that in a bit. Thank you, Shiv.”

“Uh… you’re welcome,” Shiv replied, painting a smirk on his face—a smirk he didn’t feel, considering how fast his heart was pulsing.

“Still, Sister Nomos and her team…” The Composer’s expression went from joyful to solemn in an instant. “It is a great shame about their loss, but it is a greater shame still that they did not heed the words of their Weaveresses. This was not a task for them. They were to deliver the dagger to a Legendary Weaveress, not carry it themselves through the wilderness. Ah. I suppose circumstances forced this.”

She looked to her Speaker. “How many did we lose?”

The Speaker was silent for a moment, and Shiv heard the buzzing within its skull as the automaton did its thinking.

“Still not conclusive,” the Speaker managed, “but we’re estimating somewhere around two million.”

“Two million?” Shiv gasped. “Two million? Two million ? People?”

The Speaker turned and simply nodded. “Yes. It was a heavy raid.”

“Heavy raid?” Shiv whimpered. “Two ” That was dozens of times the entire population of Blackedge...

The Composer looked at him with confusion.“ Yes, it was a substantial operation, but why are you surprised? Is that not the number you’re used to?”

“No,” Shiv replied, his mouth slightly dry. “My home—uh…” He hesitated, unsure if revealing military information to the Composer might put Blackedge in even more danger. But considering they were being hammered by the vicar and what seemed to be a Necrotech splinter group, he continued. “Blackedge has just fifty thousand people.”

“Fifty thousand?” Uva said, her eyes widening. Now it was her turn to be surprised. “You… you hold the mouth of the chasm with so few. Is the Curse of Light truly that severe?”

“Curse of Light?” Shiv repeated. He blinked and thought back to the vicar. He remembered the beasts clinging to the great serpent’s ribs, and how steam hissed from them when the Light struck their forms.

“Yes. When the Light strikes our bodies, it sears us, it burns us. You don’t know this?” Uva asked.

“No, no. I did see it. But… I just don’t seem to know much about anything. Not even about my own home.”

The Composer’s expression grew slightly mournful. “Well, regardless, it honors me and the rest of Weave that you made Sister Nomos’s sacrifice worthwhile—even if she did disobey direct orders. She was always a proud child.”

Shiv looked at the Composer. “Did you know her personally?”

“I know all my children personally,” the Composer said with absolute sincerity.

He couldn’t even imagine that. He could maybe remember the names of fifty people, and after that… things got a little hard.

“And you said you left them encased in ice, using Nomos’s spear back in the Penumbra?”

“Yeah,” Shiv said. “I wanted to bring it back to you, but it was destroyed when Marikos blew the mountain apart. I didn’t know someone could channel that much fire.”

“Well, yes,” the Composer said with a slight sneer. “He’s quite destructive when he gets into one of his tantrums.” She hummed as she looked over the others. “Children, you may go. You have done me a great service in bringing the surfac­er here safely and ensuring the delivery of the honored Valor Thann. However, I ask that you leave the dagger in the hands of our newest guest, the honored Shiv, who fought so hard to defend Weave from a most unexpected enemy today. Shiv, would you mind staying a while longer? I have something to talk to you about.”

Shiv froze. He wasn’t expecting this. He looked at Uva, trying to gauge how the Umbral would react, but a look of naked surprise and uncertainty washed over her as well.

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he said, trying to keep his tone casual.

This time, Uva didn’t send him a telepathic message. She simply jabbed him with her elbow and frowned.

The Composer laughed again, then flicked her hands. “Now, off with you. I want to have a private conversation—one that, uh, concerns very personal matters that might have to do with the safety of the Weave, and, from what I can tell, a war… to stop a war with the surface.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, the Weaveresses and the Umbrals saluted their Exalted Mother, and all of them retreated. Before they left, however, Uva cast Shiv a final glance.

And then she moved on. Shiv blinked, watching as a layer of animated webs sealed the path behind the departing group.

“Finally, we are alone,” the Composer said, letting out a breath. “It’s very hard sometimes, always bearing a regal demeanor in front of one’s own children, Valor. But they need something to believe in—something greater than themselves. And, well, I suppose one has to be greater when the burdens of divinity are one’s inheritance.”

Valor stayed quiet, but Shiv himself considered the statement. “I can’t quite say. I’m not divine. I have no experience in divine matters.”

The Composer considered him. “But you were Omenborn, weren’t you? You know something of legacy more than most.” A sudden alarm washed through Shiv. He didn’t know how to react.

“I’m not accusing you,” the Composer continued, leaning in very, very close—her vast face taking up his entire field of view. He could make out his body's reflection in her glistening eyes. “I… can feel the traces of a broken Curse in you. And your Path has such an interesting title… I have to ask: How do you do it? How do you come back from the dead?”