The Chronicles of Harold the Healer Ch. 08

"Please do, Mr. Cold," she replied.

"That's Cole, ma'am," he replied politely.

"If you keep wearing that outfit without a coat in this fog, it is Cold that you will be." The other actors on the stage laughed and applauded as Jason rolled his eyes.

"That joke has followed me all of my life," he complained, theatrically raising his arms. "I was about to explain to the audience here who may not be familiar with the Last Call, it's the Third Sounding of the Great Horn from the Wild Hunt, which calls the souls of all who hear it, living or dead, to cross over to the Afterlife, whatever that is."

"You guys are spoon-feeding me clues," said Harold, grinning. "I detect a well-oiled rehearsal." Nobody would meet his gaze, including Mary, and he nodded. He turned to address the audience, who were all paying rapt attention. The area was filled with people, who had by now lit small lanterns that would be needed when the show was over. Some of the little kids were waving at Mary, who smiled and waved back. The foghorn moaned again as more tendrils of fog crept through the area. "I think that I know the unique talent that I am supposed to be using here. Ladies and gentlemen, I believe that I have been the victim of a weird curse since birth. I can enjoy music, but I cannot create it. My singing causes horses to panic and stampede, and I can make the finest musical instruments make the most unnatural noises imaginable." That got some laughter. "If the good members of the band here would be so kind as to allow me to demonstrate, I will show you." He walked over to a trumpeter and asked to borrow his instrument, and with a bemused look, he did. He had to ask how to arrange his fingers on the thing, and when they were ready, he blew hard, making a noise that sounded like a cat fight combined with someone gargling.

"What the hell?" asked the trumpeter as everyone laughed, snatching his trumpet back. Harold hit it with Sterilize and he blew a pure, clean note. Applause followed.

"I was excused from Music classes during my time at the Mage School," Harold continued. "Not that I was free from the Professors, who tried all sorts of experiments to see if they could figure out what the hell I was doing to make these noises." He borrowed a drum stick and hit the hi-hat cymbals, making a clunk instead of a tssss, and then hit the tom-tom drum, making it create a flatulent noise that got everyone laughing. The drummer took the stick back, and made normal noises on the things with it. "So, I think that the instrument that I have to torture is the trombone. People have remarked, usually rudely, that I made it sound like a foghorn. Madam, if I may?" The trombonist reluctantly handed it over. The foghorn was sounding every five minutes, so he waited until it went off, then blew into the trombone. Their combined sounds made the hairs on the backs of everyone's necks stand up, but nothing more.

"You need Magic to go with the noise," said Millie. "The Last Call is Magical, but you can't make the Magic. It has to be from me. Blow again." He did, and Millie sang a scale until she found a note that meshed well with Harold's tortured trombone. Jason counted down the seconds to the next sound from the foghorn, and all three sounds meshed together and resonated.

"I felt that," said Lydia from the ground below the stage, as the audience sat stunned. Even Harold and Millie had felt something like their souls stirring, trying to get loose.

"OK, that's the First Call, I hope. I'll draw a doorframe in the air. I'll use a variant of the Mage Light spell to make a linear light instead of a point. Here's how you do it..." He cast the spell, with Millie watching carefully, and drew a simple rectangle that started at the floor of the stage, and faced the audience. He got Millie to cast the spell and she drew a doorknob. They got a smattering of applause. Taking their cue from Jason, they performed the Second Call, and the effect of its mournful note was quite unsettling, as something inside the people seemed to shift in an indefinable direction. "Mary, now you start knocking on the door. Is there a song about knocking on doors that we can sing to give her a boost?"

"I think that the most appropriate would be 'Knocking on Heaven's Door'," said the band leader. "We'll play and everyone else can sing along." After a quick tuning, they started on the intro.

"Mama, take this armour from me. I'm not gonna need it anymore." The audience and everyone on the stage, save for Harold, started singing, a bit raggedly, but quickly got into it and it became smooth and powerful. "I hear the Last Call blowing for me. I feel like I'm knocking on Heaven's door." Millie's soprano soared over the three hundred and some voices.

"Musical Magic gains strength from people's emotions," Harold said to Millie quickly. "Grab some of that energy that the people are giving to you and use it to knock on the door beside Mary. Everyone stomp your feet on the knocks," he announced to the crowd.

"I'm knock-knock-knocking on Heaven's door." Mary raised her hand and knocked where the door should be, while Millie grabbed some energy and rather clumsily used her Invisible Hand to knock on the door as well, and she was able to get a thumping sound from it. The people on the stage were able to make more noise that those on the grass because it was hollow underneath. After the third repetition of knock-knocking, Mary exclaimed,

"I'm starting to feel something! I'm not just knocking on thin air!"

"Almost time for the Last Call!" Jason announced.

"Mama, put my sword in the ground. I can't lift it anymore," sang Millie, pouring her heart into the sadness of they dying subject of the song as the others provided a background of "Ooo-ooo". "I feel the Long Night coming around; I feel that I'm knocking on Heaven's door." Harold extended the door outline back an inch to give it depth, to try to make it into a door. The band played, the people sang and stomped their feet, and Millie and Mary knocked on the door. They managed to get four refrains of "I'm knock-knock-knocking on Heaven's door," as Jason counted down with his fingers. On the zero count, Harold blew as hard as he could into the trombone, Millie added her note, and the foghorn called out.

The next ten seconds seemed like an eternity. As their makeshift Last Call sounded, everything suddenly shifted in some way that they could feel deep inside. The sound was everywhere, seeming to beckon them to where they most wanted to be - a garden, a park, a bedroom with their lover, a kitchen making cookies, and on and on. They were all looking around, seeking the path to their dreams. At its end, Mary reached for the doorknob and gave it a twist.

"It's locked! It won't open!" she cried desperately. "Don't you have a spell to open doors?"

"Well, this one is as good as any," he mused. "Ostium apertum!" he shouted and flung a ball of energy at the knob. He manipulated his fingers, trying to wiggle the energy into the lock. "There, I've got it," he whispered. He was not going to announce that he was also a master of fiddling with locks, a skill that had gotten him into a few places where he should not have been, and out of a few places where people thought that he'd been securely held. As the slowly thickening fog continued to drift in, brushing everyone with its cold, clammy fingers, there was a clack-click-clunk and the door opened.

"Are you the one who's been making all that racket outside my office?" a rich, female voice demanded, rather irritably. "Who are you and why are you bothering me?" Mary pushed the door further open and walked into what appeared to be an office, with a large woman behind a desk. Everyone craned their necks trying to see in.

"My name is Mary Celeste. I am here to meet my husband, Clark Celeste, who was lost at sea seventy-two years ago. I was not able to reach my door in time and have been living as a ghost."

"Hmm, Clark Celeste, sea captain," the black-haired woman muttered, tapping some keys on what looked like a typewriter, but without the basket of letters on sticks. There were two rectangular panels on stands in front of her. She lowered a small, curved boom in front of her mouth, tapped an earpiece to which it was attached, and said "Please find Clark Celeste. His wife Mary is finally here." After a few moments, a man in an old-fashioned captain's outfit appeared out of thin air.

"Clark! Oh, my Goddess, I've finally come!" Mary cried out, charging into his arms.

"Mary! I thought that I'd never see you again," he sobbed, burying his head between her left shoulder and head. "What happened?"

"What are you lot staring at?" the woman behind the desk demanded, moving her head to be beside one of the panels and looking out at the wide-eyed crowd. "This is a private moment!" She waved a hand and the door abruptly slammed and dissolved into motes of light, making Harold fall to his knees as his spell was ripped apart. The foghorn sounded again, masking the sound of Harold's falling onto his face and lying unnaturally still, and the sound of the trombone clattering to the stage, released from nerveless fingers. The noise level increased as the people in the crowd hastily gathered their things together and started flowing out to where their horses and carts had been parked in a large field to the north, past the lighthouse. They would be cutting it close before the fog reached the point where navigation on the road back to town would be hindered. Lydia vaulted onto the stage, followed by Mooch, who exerted an uncharacteristic effort to do so.

"Harold! Harold! Are you OK?" she asked, giving him a shake. Mooch whined and nuzzled his ear, but neither generated a response.

"That woman destroyed his door spell! I felt it!" said Millie as they worked to roll him onto his back. "He must have had a lot of power in it, and it all got smashed and released instantly!" The trombonist retrieved her instrument, then retrieved Harold's hat from where it had landed while they checked him.

"No pulse, no breathing. He's dead. Just like that." The light from the stage lanterns, muted by the fog, showed that Lydia's face had gone white, and Millie had sat down hard next to him.

"What's going on?" Jason Cole asked, emerging from the bustle of activity as the stage performers and hands packed away all of their stuff. "Oh," he said, looking wide-eyed at the prone Mage. "We should do CPR on him. Maybe he can be revived."

Harold stood on the stage a few paces away from where Millie was blowing air into his lungs while Lydia performed chest compressions. Mooch swiveled his head to look right at him, but nobody else on the stage seemed to notice. He had a massive headache that faded away as quickly as the outline of a door appeared in front of him. It opened inwards and he stepped into another office that looked very similar to the one whose door they had forced open. He left the door open behind him.

"Hello, sir," said the woman behind the desk. Unlike her counterpart, she had curly red hair, cut short in an attractive style. Her eyes were a luminous blue and she had a short, sharp nose and thin lips, and her body build was slim, but somehow hinted at hidden power within it. "How can I help you?" she asked, brisk and efficient.

"I appear to have died," he replied, bemused, looking around. There was a window to his left, but there was only gray to look at through it. A large potted plant sat on a stand next to it.

"Name please?" The nameplate on her desk read 'Persephone'.

"I'm Harold Moser, Healer at Large." She tapped on a keyboard and looked at the two panels.

"Moser, Moser, occupation Healer." She paused, looked at her leftmost panel, and her shapely eyebrows rose in seeming surprise. "You aren't supposed to be here yet."

"Oh? When am I supposed to be here?" he asked with interest.

"It says here..." She stopped short, closed her mouth with a click, and gave him a penetrating stare. "Oh, you're good," she said, wagging an admonishing finger at him. Her smile seemed to change the entire complexion of her face. "What happened out there?"

"We managed to find a way to pry open the door to the Afterlife so that we could return the ghost of Mary Celeste to her husband. I was holding the door open, but the person who was in the office took exception to our looking in and slammed it in our faces. It must have fried my brain. It's been known to happen to Mages when a powerful spell backfires."

"So, it was you who was making all that racket," Persephone replied, tapping again on the keyboard. "Ah, that was Anne. She's a bitch even at the best of times. Sorry about that."

"Where do I go now? I'm at a bit of a loss." She leaned past the rightmost panel to look out the door and shook her head.

"Go back. Your friends are getting worried about you." He turned to look as well. "Maybe we'll meet again when the time is right." She smiled and waved her hand dismissively and he found himself shooting out the door, which closed and vanished abruptly, and flying back into his body. Fortunately, Millie had been taking a break from the breathing, so her head didn't get bashed when he sat up suddenly, coughing and wheezing. Then Mooch was all over him, licking his face and wagging his tail, until he was pulled off by Millie.

"I'm glad to see you back," said Jason. "We were afraid that you wouldn't make it. Thank you so much for helping Mary cross over. It meant a lot to us." He indicated the other actors, musicians, and crew, who paused in their multitude of activities to offer him the Very Respectful Bow.

"You are most welcome. When the Receptionist slammed the door, all the Magic I'd put into opening it blew out all at once and it killed me. The Receptionist that I met said that it wasn't my time yet and sent me back, for which I am truly grateful. Thank you, Lydia and Millie, for keeping my body going while I was gone." Harold was hauled to his feet and held in a crushing hug, first by Lydia, then Millie, who didn't want to let go.

"In case you're wondering, Millie," said Lydia, "he is a wonderful lover, and masseur. Why don't you take him home? My itch has been most thoroughly scratched."

"I left my pack in your tent," said Harold, shakily bending down to pick up his staff and hat and being lovingly assaulted by Mooch. "Arr, gerroff!" He had to scratch the dog behind his ears before he was allowed to stand again.

"I put it in Millie's tent," Lydia replied, giving him a soft, lingering kiss. "I figured that you had a few more lessons to teach her."

"Which town in the Westlands are you from?" he asked as Millie put his left arm across her shoulders and he used her and his staff to remain upright.

"It's called Magwitch, of all things. Not very exciting, but a nice place. Good night, you two." They left the stage by a set of stairs at the back, with the Mage accepting handshakes, embraces, and congratulations from the people before they made their way back to the tents through the fog. They both summoned Mage Lights to help them make their way.

"I need a trip to the privy first," said Millie, to which he readily agreed.

As it happened, Harold finished first and stood a respectful distance from the door to hers, looking around and listening. Most of the tents were lit up from the inside. There was the faint murmur of a few conversations, the distant sounds coming from the stage as the crew finished up packing their stuff, and Mooch whining a little bit while pressing up against his legs and looking up at him with concern in his body posture. He leaned heavily on his staff, as he seemed to be coming down with a major headache and was feeling totally spent.

"Healer Harold, if I may have a moment of your time," said a kindly male voice on his left. He blearily turned to look and saw a half-bald older man with a white beard and mustache, dressed in nondescript clothes. There had been no sound of his approach, no sense of a person coming into the range of his senses. He knew from experience that he was in the presence of another Deity, and he managed to perform the Very Respectful Bow without falling flat on his face.

"How may I serve you, God?" he asked, wincing. "Sorry, I have a really bad headache right now."

"You already have, by sending Mary Celeste to the Afterlife, when several others have tried and been unsuccessful. Your mistreatment at the hands of the Receptionist caused serious cerebral trauma which needs to be repaired now before the damage becomes permanent. Please kneel so that I can Heal it." He was only about five-foot-eight and didn't want to reach up. Harold fell to his knees and the God had to catch him and hold him up. "Hello, Millie," he addressed her as she emerged from the privy and hastened to where they were. "Please hold Harold steady so that I can work on him."

"Who are... oh!" she said, unconsciously reaching out and feeling something very strange from him, and suddenly realizing what he was. "Of course, God. Anything to help." She grabbed Harold's shoulders from behind and held him while the God took his head in both hands and arranged his fingers just so. She felt a prolonged push of power from the God, as Harold groaned slightly.

"The damage is extensive," said the God conversationally. "He was sending a lot of power into that spell to keep the door open and the disruption sent lots of power into places where it is not supposed to go." Millie nodded, wide-eyed. The God's fingers looked like they were stitching something together. "You sang beautifully tonight, Millie. You played your part fabulously, especially considering that you were operating on instinct and without training. You and the world would greatly benefit from some time at the Mage School."

"I intended to, God," she replied, his presence somehow calming her. Mooch sat on his haunches and watched intently, tongue lolling out of his mouth. "Healer Harold opened my eyes to what Magic can do, and what happened tonight was amazing. But tiring," she added, barely stifling a yawn.

"All done," the Deity announced, removing his fingers from Harold's head and stepping back.

"Thank you very much, God," said Harold, managing to stand. "I will gladly escort Millie to the Magic School in the Capital. They will be glad to have you," he told her.

"There's an Argosian trader in port at the moment, and their next stop is the Capital," said the God, after looking off into the distance for a few moments. "I believe that they will be leaving on tomorrow afternoon's tide, and they have room for passengers."

"How will we pay for passage?" she asked, worriedly. "I don't have much money."

"I will sing the rats off their ship. That and some Healing will be more than enough," Harold replied dryly. "It's how I got home from Carcosa. The ship anchors off shore, I sing a particular song that gets me to hit a high note, and all the rats flee in panic, jump off the ship, and drown. Nasty, but very effective." The Deity smiled and nodded.

"Good luck to the two of you," he said. They offered him the Very Respectful Bow once again, and he paused to pat Mooch on the head, then strode off into the fog and vanished.

"So, now you've had your first encounter with a Deity that you know of," he said as they started walking towards her tent. "You're moving up in the world."

"How are you feeling, Healer Harold?" she asked. She had maintained her Mage Light, while his had gone out before their encounter. "You look better."

"I feel a lot better," he replied softly. "I have a feeling that I nearly died again, this time for real. He was obviously a Healer. He knew exactly what he was doing, as if he'd done it before. I could feel him moving around in my brain, putting things back together, rebuilding burnt-out parts, doing things that I couldn't have a chance of knowing how to do. Oh, the things that I could learn from him..." He trailed off as they arrived at her tent, which had a picture of a lighthouse on a promontory with its light shining out to sea. "An interesting coincidence," he continued thoughtfully as she lifted the flap and propelled him in.