Making music
There is a great cavern, high in Kaldamaaren,
more or less forgotten and certainly untouched for longer than, well,
Damon Maker can
remember. As to his needs, it has little to offer. No rich, nor even
scanty veins of ore reside there. No gems, nor geodes to be found.
It’s height in the massive mountain put if far removed from the
prolific forges of his great hall. It is wholely unremarkable save
for one phenomenon, one which makes the cavern useless even
as a place of residence or work.
The egress of the cavern leads through a straight tunnel (well,
relatively straight as tunnels go), which very gradually broadens
as it progresses outward from the center of the mountain. Nearly
a mile beyond the cavern, the tunnel is as broad as a castle’s
curtain wall and nearly as high. There is stops, to look out over
the broad expanse of the Watersea from a great height with the
roof overhanging the edge of the cave by some score of feet.
So far, this is not particularly inhospitable terrain, but of it comes
a freakish turn. As certain as the sunrise is marked in time, so
too is the tide. The tide here, is not just the salt-spray of the
sea, however. Air, too, the wind marks a tide on this shore.
As the water rises, wave upon wave, so too the Wind rushes
forth onto the land. As it does, it races up the steep slope of
Damon’s mountain home and where it reaches the cave, the
overhang catches some part of it and turns it down the passage,
deep into the mountain. As the wind rushes down the narrowing
tunnel, it is funneled to a faster and faster pitch, until at last it
blasts into the deeper cavern, wailing its primal chord like a
banshee.
Damon has stood, rooted to the floor of the cavern at let the
howling demon wind slip past his craggy form as he thought.
At last he knew what he would do. The dwarves of the forges
down below never questioned a bequest granted them by the
Maker. Pieces certainly seemed meant for each other, but
what they were when assembled remained a mystery to those
whose rocky hands had hammer out them out. Only Damon
could see the whole in his mind. Great labors were undertaken
to move all the pieces up to the high cavern, especially the
largest of them, but at last, all was in place and Damon
began to Make sense of it all.
He had Made a series of pipes, not unlike those of organs,
serviced by a great bellows. But these pipes were far larger
than any made for mere organ. And these pipes were crafted
in an unusual way. To sound, a pipe would require a certain
speed of wind to open a weighted baffle and at a higher speed
it would close again. Thusly, untended, each pipe would sound
in turn; each quieting as the next picked up its note.
The first pipe was of gold. It’s baffle was slow to open and the
wind would make a gentle, hollow whisper as it began, before
the full, bass note sounded. “HhhhhhhhhAAAaaaaaa.” and when
the baffle close again, more quickly than opening, the strong
bass would change timber as it was strangled off “aaaEEee!!”
The second pipe was of silver. It has the most unusual feature,
perhaps of all the pipes. For as the sea wind raced around the
metal pipes, it would condense water up on their cold shells.
The water dripped from the pipes and gathered in a special
silver bowl at the base of the second pipe. When the baffle
opened to the second pipe, a large silver ball at the end of a
lever attached to the baffle would be plunged suddenly into
the bowl beneath the pipe. It sound much as any stone of
some weight dropped into a deep resevoir, “Gnnng” (although
it was perhaps more refined a tone, and a stone of exceptional
material and shape to deliver it). No sooner had the ball been
plunged down than a great organ bellow “Oooooooooooooo”
would sound.
The third pipe was of Mithril. It very much resembled the first pipe
in form and fucntion, save that it was delicately different, barely
discernable, in shape, and had lever with a great ball on it attached
to the baffle (something like that of the second pipe, but higher up
and external to the pipe). So, too it sounded much like the first to
start. “WwwwwwwwwAAaaaaaaaaaa” Here, however was a
difference from the first, as the baffle closed, it caused the lever
and ball to strike the pipe a great blow. “Knnnnnnnnnngggg”
The fourth pipe was of copper, an simpler than the other. Its baffle,
nearly without effect as the pipe began its note, but with a padding
and muffler that as it slowly closed produced a smothering of the note.
“Iiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnn”
The fifth pipe was of brass, and borrowed from both the first and the
fourth in its design. A muffler set up a great humming as the note
strained to break free of the baffle’s throttle on its air supply. Then
at the end, like the first pipe, it would squeal out its last.
“MmmmmmmmmAAaaaaaaaaaaEee!!”
The last pipe was of adamantium. It had a drum on either side
of it, like wheels on a cart. Inside one drum was a springy, thin
piece of the metal, bent back, under tension and the inside of
the drum was lined with ridges to catch the metal flange as they
moved by it. The other drum was lined, likewise, with ridges,
but filled instead with a great number of adamantium marbles.
When the baffle would start to open, a hammer would fall and
strike a plate “Ddddd” which released the first drum to turn with
the wind, very fast for just a moment “Rrrrrrrrrr.” Then the pipe
would sound, “Eeeeeeeeee.” The closing baffle would cut off the
note, but set the pipe to humming, “Mmmmmmm.” It reset the
hammer and released the second drum, “Zzzzzzzzz.”
Now early to mid morning, and in the evening, The great
mountain sounds. So loud are the pipes, so fierce the
wind that drives them, they can be heard far and wide,
even in the depths of the stone of Kaldamaaren. As if the
mountain itself had a sonorous, bass voice, speaking slowly.
“AAAaaaaaaaaaEEee!!”
“GgOooooooooooooo”
“WwwwwwwwwAAaaaaaaaaaaKnnnnnnnnnngggg”
“Iiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnn”
“MmmmmmmmmAAaaaaaaaaaaEee!!”
“DddddRrrrrrrrrrEeeeeeeeeeMmmmmmmZzzzzzzzz.”
Inscribed in the pipes is the following verse:
In the middle of the night, I go walkin' in my sleep, from the mountains of faith, to the river so deep. I must be lookin' for somethin' somethin' sacred I lost, but the river is wide, and it’s too hard to cross. Even though I know the river is wide I walk down every evening and I stand by the shore I try to cross to the opposite side So I can finally find what I've been looking for. In the middle of the night, I go walkin' in my dreams, from the valley of fear to the river so deep. I must be lookin' for somethin' taken out of my soul. Somethin' I'd never lose. Somethin' somebody stole. I don't know why I go walkin' at night But now I'm tired and I don't want to walk any more. All it does is take the rest of my life to finally find what I've been lookin' for. In the middle of the night, I go walkin' in my dreams, from the jungle of doubt, to the river so deep. I must be lookin' for somethin' somethin' so hard to find It can only be seen by the eyes of the blind In the middle of the night. I'm not sure about a life after this, god knows I've never been a spiritual man. At time I cry my way to the river that runs through the promised land. In the middle of the night, I go walkin' in my dreams, from the desert of the truth, to the river so deep. We all end in the ocean. We all start in the stream. We're all carried along by the river of dreams. In the middle of the night...
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