The Mountains Sang Their Silent Melody

VI

When Frances awoke the next morning, it took them several moments to remember where the were. They wondered why their bed was so hard and their room smelled like campfire. They opened their eyes, meditating over the cavern ceiling, as the previous days' events came back into focus in their mind.

Frances checked the sigils. They did not seem to have wiped off while Frances slept, but they would have to ask Opus to be sure. Frances glanced over at Opus. She was still asleep.

"Good morning!" A voice called. Frances whirled around. The voice was coming from just outside the cavern. Frances was alarmed. There were so few people in these mountains, and so many caverns. How had they been discovered?

Frances shook themself. It was probably a friend of Opus's. People went on pilgrimages to holy people, and Opus was a holy woman. Of course Opus would have visitors. Frances's alarm was paranoia and nothing more.

Frances stood and smoothed out their tunic, which they'd slept in. They made their way to the entrance of the cave. To Frances's dismay, there was no one to be seen. Frances glanced around more thoroughly. Nothing. Nothing but the eagle perched on the bough of a nearby pine tree.

Flushed with curiosity, Frances took several slow steps towards the eagle. They expected it to fly away at any moment, but it did not move from its perch. Frances had never been so close to one before, except for the brief moment where the eagle swooped down over their head yesterday.

"Are you the same eagle who guided me here yesterday?" Frances whispered. They didn't want to startle the magnificent bird.

"Yes," the eagle answered.

Frances was so started that they stumbled, caught their leg on a fallen branch, and fell backwards onto their plump bottom.

"You spoke!" Frances cried.

"Yes," the eagle said matter-of-factly. She spread her wings and glided down to the bough that Frances had fallen over, where she resettled herself.

"I can talk to animals!" Frances said.

The eagle preened her feathers. "An unusual gift for a sorcerer, but not unheard of."

"The shepherds' goats didn't talk to me," Frances said.

The eagle lifted her wings. To Frances, the movement looked like a shrug. "Maybe they had nothing to say to you. It's probably for the best anyways. Goats are dull creatures."

Frances stared at the eagle in astonishment. They wondered if they were still asleep and dreaming.

"Weren't you wondering who called for help when that shepherd fell over the cliffside?" the eagle asked.

"That was you?" Frances exclaimed.

The eagle wobbled her head. "Poor child. Their pain was so great that they were stuck in a state of semi-consciousness for nearly an hour."

Frances's mind whirred. They were rendered totally speechless. This only made the situation more perplexing. A mute human and an eloquent eagle. The whole scenario seemed totally upside-down.

The eagle tilted her head. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Frances asked. They only heard the sounds of the forest.

"The melody of the mountains," the eagle said. "A continuous hymn. It is silent to most humans, but if your ears are attuned to it you'll be able to hear."

Frances pulled themself up to a sitting position. "How do I learn to listen?"

"Close your eyes," the eagle said. Frances obliged.

"Now slow your breathing," the eagle continued.

"Focus on your breathing. That is the only thing in the world right now. There has been no past. There will be no future. There is nothing else, because everything is within you, within that breath. Your breath is your life force. Clear your mind. Calm it to stillness."

Frances did as the eagle instructed. After several minutes, they heard a dim musical note.

Their excitement caused them to tumble out of their concentration. "I heard something!" they told the eagle.

"Good," the eagle said. "Keep practicing. Soon you'll be able to hear the chords, and the harmonies, and discords. When your ears are as good as mine, you'll be able to hear the crescendo on its way."

The eagle rearranged herself on the bough in preparation for flight. She turned her head back at Frances "Oh," she said, "I left your shoes and sock by the gondola station for when you're ready to leave the mountains."

Before Frances had time to decided whether they were thankful or irritated with the eagle, she'd flown away.

Frances settled back into stillness, trying to learn to listen to the mountains' silent melody.

When Opus woke up some time later, she found Frances sitting with their eyes closed at the cavern's entrance. By this time, Frances could enter a state of mind conducive to listening to the symphony that the mountains produced. The more Frances listened, the more layers of complexity they could heard. Frances's face was wet, though they were not aware that they were crying.

Opus knew that Frances could hear the moutains' silent melody. She was both impressed and utterly bewildered. This should come naturally to Frances - it was part of what the natural world had called them to do. But it should not have come this easily. But Frances was a child deeply attuned both with others and with the natural world. Opus was struck by a sensation of nostalgia when she realised this.

"What went wrong when you stood up on the fountain and tried to speak your mind?" Opus said softly, so as not to startle Francis.

Frances frowned, still with closed eyes. They were not sure how Opus knew about this. "The Corpus stopped me," Frances said.

"But why would the townspeople not listen to you?" Opus pressed. Frances shrugged.

"You chose your words poorly," Opus said. She sat down next to Frances. "You were blunt. It scared them. You need to learn eloquence. Today, I will teach you how to speak."

Frances's eyelids fluttered open. 

"You came here in search of someone who could help Ophelia," Opus said. "Through this process, I will create that person. That person will be you."