Interlude II
She steps off the steam train at the Gare du Nord and walks swiftly, surely, with an agility like that of a panther. She moves effortlessly among the crowd, which seems to part for her. A sunbeam glides down from the stained glass windows high above, opening a path for her among the steam and soot of the giant machines.
Ahwinahwi sees her, and bows in greeting.
“Praised be your name, Oyá,” he says.
She nods in recognition.
“Walk with me, Ahwinahwi,” she says. “Show me this city.”
Ahwinahwi gestures for her to follow. They navigate the passengers that hurry to board their trains, until they reach the steam carriage line outside the station and hail one. Ahwinahwi helps her get up, as it’s expected. He briefly talks to the driver in French, then takes a seat at her side.
The machine grinds forward, but silently. Ahwinahwi has picked one of the newest models, featuring a galvanic engine.
“Seeing you, Oyá, I recalled the first time we met,” Ahwinahwi says.
“Durban.”
“You walked along the train, just like today.”
*****
Ahwinahwi was barely a man, just recently having come of age. He still wasn’t used to it, much less to the fact that he was Gifted.
No matter how much his Iyaláwo had explained it to him, he still didn’t understand what his Gift meant. She had insisted he was different, but all she could explain was that he had the Sight.
Yes, Ahwinahwi had always been good with his eyes. He could see far, was that it? Ahwinahwi was not the wisest of disciples. His Iyaláwo said wisdom would come with age.
In the end, she sent him to Durban, to the train station. She had him wear his best clothes, and she had him wait.
What for, had he asked, and she had told him he would know when he saw. When he Saw, she insisted, and he had noticed she said it differently. With meaning.
And so Ahwinahwi had waited, and waited. He had observed, watching the huge steam engines reach the station, passengers coming in and out of the two-tiered metallic behemoths that now crisscrossed the continents.
But they were not special, neither the passengers nor the trains. Ahwinahwi examined the station, but he didn’t see anything beyond the architectural greatness.
Until he saw her. A train stopped and she disembarked.
And then he knew. Because while all the people scurried about on their own business, they ignored her, but he felt attracted like moths to the light, and he saw her real appearance, regal, fierce and warrior-like.
Ahwinahwi took off his hat, then kneeled.
“Praised be your name, Oyá,” he said.
“Stand,” she said. She stared at him and spoke again. “So, you can See. What’s your name?”
“Ahwinahwi, Oyá.”
“Show me this city, Ahwinahwi.”
*****
“I want to see their Tower, Ahwinahwi. Some say it’s a monstrosity.”
Ahwinahwi looks off the window, in the distance, and then his eyes go blank.
“They do say so, but the Tower will become a symbol for them. They will be known throughout the world because of it.”
Oyá stares at him.
“You can See further.”
“Yes.”
“Look at me, Ahwinahwi,” she says. “What do you See?”
Ahwinahwi looks. His pupils disappear again, yet he sees more clearly. The lines of the past, present and future mingle and distort, and in the middle lies Oyá, river queen, warrior, master of storms and lightning, sorceress.
“I see dwindling power,” Ahwinahwi says.
“It’s been happening to all of us, for centuries now.”
“Your kind has grown stronger, Oyá. You have spread.”
“Indeed.”
“Yet it will also fade,” Ahwinahwi adds.
“As it should be,” Oyá says.
“I also see a great war, in the far North.”
“It was predicted a long time ago.”
“With unforeseen results.”
“Unforeseen? Which results?”
Ahwinahwi touched his forehead.
“I cannot say. I don’t see them. It’s odd.”
Oyá remains silent. Prophecies don’t work that way. Not that one, at least. Ragnarök was precise.
“I see more war,” Ahwinahwi says. “In the far future. Stirred by the Lord of Lies.”
Oyá frowns.
“Many have been called that,” she says.
“I See what I See, Oyá,” Ahwinahwi says, and his eyes are back to normal. “I’m sorry if I’ve caused you distress.”
The carriage stops.
“We have arrived, Oyá.”
He helps her out, also as expected, and they stand before the Eiffel Tower. Her light beams pierce the night, while at the same time airships surround her and flash their own beams at her.
“I think she’s impressive,” Ahwinahwi says.
Oyá gazes at the Tower, but she says nothing.
This is my story for November 19th’s prompt from Wording Wednesday, a writing group on MeWe (it was posted early, on that week’s Monday). It’s also the sixth chapter in my own series… here are chapters 1, 2 , 3, 4 and 5.
I’m two weeks late with this prompt. At first I didn’t know how to make it fit my ideas for the series, then slowly the puzzle started to solve itself. There are two more prompts in the pipeline, but this (almost) past year I’ve learned not to stress over it. They’ll come when they come.
