MF1.0 - 34 - The Laughter Heard Round the World

''Naked under the stars and the moons, Astrin felt more at peace than ever before. Mela lay curled up on his chest, her soft hair tickling his chest whenever she moved.''

''Their child was growing inside him, with no problems – at three months into a six month gestation cycle, this was a good sign. His belly had swollen, though it was no match for his over-inflated sense of pride.''

''Mela’s father had been unhappy – in his opinion, marrying a guard, someone below her station, was not the kind of thing a young lady should rush into. However, his future father-in-law had relented when Mela’s mother had reminded him that their branch of the family tree existed solely because a young lord had taken an interest in a scullery maid.

Since then, there hadn’t been any hiccups, and for that he was glad. A lot of times, the egg failed to take the first time – in the past, old women had used this simple biological reaction as a reason to break up relationships.''

He twirled Mela’s hair in his fingers, and listened to a dryad sing – he wasn’t sure where she was, in the lake, in a tree, one with the air, but the melody was enough to make him sleepy.

''As he closed his eyes to sleep, the dryad stopped singing, and everything went quiet. He couldn’t hear any of the evening birds, any of the insects, or indeed, the lake’s waves lapping at the shore.''

''It was as though the world had stopped for a second. He gently removed Mela from his chest and stood…nothing was moving. Above him, a bird was frozen in the air, the ripples on the lake were frozen, and leaves on the wind didn’t move.''

Then it started…low and deep at first, like an earthquake, then higher and higher, like the screaming of a steam train.

Laughter.

''It seemed to permeate the very air around him. The warm evening air vibrated with the insane giggle. He felt cold, and the memory of being buried in a snow drift came back to him.''

''His fingers began to burn with the cold, and he watched as they turned a deeper shade, and ice crystals grow on the hair on the back of his hand. He screamed, and the warmth returned to him.''

The laughter remained.

''Mela stirred and pulled the blanket around her as she sat up. ‘Astrin, what is…?’''

''He didn’t know, and that frightened him. He dropped down beside her, and pulled her into a tight embrace – as if holding her could drive the terror away.''

The laughter continued.

''There was a hiss from the sand beside them, the image of a woman’s face and her curly hair formed in the grains. ‘Go to your families, this is the last song of the world.’''

‘What?’ Mela screeched at the apparition of the dryad.

''‘Pushawn, the god, he’s dying. Escape if you can, only if you can handle the consequences, else hold each other while the world ends.’''

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">‘How long?’ he managed to choke, his brain fighting the information.

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">''The dryad’s sandy eyes flickered to his belly. ‘Long enough for you to name your child, short enough for it to become a Starbright.’''

<p style="color:rgb(189,190,190);font-family:Verdana,'CenturyGothic',Tahoma,sans-serif;line-height:normal;">The laughter continued.