Head in the Clouds

Head in the Clouds is a break from form for Adventures in Fantasy, but is still set in the same world. Keep a close eye out! You’ve met some of these characters before.

On this day, the cloud knew a lot.

It didn’t always – it only knew as far as its shadow cast. Some days, that would be barely a wisp. On those days, it knew it existed, and not much else.

It wondered if it did pass out of existence occasionally, but if it did, it had no memory of the event, nor did it care. The cloud existed when it did, and that was enough for it.

Today, though, it knew much. It stretched across the sky, roiling and white. It was not heavy enough to shed its weight, but it knew that day was coming soon.

The wind played with it’s edges, curling them into large puffs. The cloud enjoyed this, at least, it assumed it did. It wasn’t unpleasant, like when the wind tried to rip it apart. If that happened, the remnants would fight for prominence in the sky. The cloud knew it didn’t like that.

Far below, it felt something enter into the shadow of its gaseous form. The cloud’s attention turned, away from the wind and the sun, to the singular humanoid riding horseback into its shade. It knew the rough outline of the rider, but as for race or gender, it could not say. Horses, on the other hand, were easily identifiable.

It didn’t know why it was drawn to this figure. Most creatures that came through its shadow were irrelevant to it. Maybe it was the way that the armor seemed to glow with its own light. Maybe the shadow was just longer, and so they were under it’s wings for longer.

Whatever the reason, the cloud took note of this individual in particular, deciding to follow it with its attention until they passed out of sight. The cloud was wide today, and knew much.

It knew about two children that were playing in the stream, laughing. It knew about the hunters on the far side of the valley, searching through the woods for game. It knew about the mouse that had just been picked up by the hawk, and the ant that had just found the remnants of a lunch. It knew the tops of the trees as they sways, and the cold touch of the rockface that it’s tendrils encircled.

But it did not know why this person entranced it so much. The cloud dealt in facts of the world and weather, and did not understand feelings. But still, it could not pull its attention away.

The rider paused, cocking their head as they heard something in the distance. The cloud could not hear – it only knew what it could see and touch with the mist.

It searched for the source of the disturbance, and caught something, just outside the line of the shadow of knowledge. People came in and out of the line, some running in fear, others running with desire.

The cloud had seen these moments before. Raiders would sweep through, removing valuables and animals from towns and villages for their own use. Sometimes, the cloud despised it, or at least it thought it did. Other days, it did not notice. Life in the mortal world was beneath it – as were their troubles.

Today, however, it knew for certain that it was wrong, and should be stopped. The rider had turned to ride toward the sound. The cloud watched as they did, feeling light and expectant, knowing this was something it did not want to miss.

And what was this? The wind was no longer playing at the edges, but was coming underneath, pulling the body of the cloud along, moving over the village. It could see the wreckage now, of the raiders on horses rounding up livestock, lighting fires to deter anyone from trying to stop them.

The farmers were helpless, stuck between trying to fight with their makeshift weapons and being slaughtered. They gathered together to make sure the raiders didn’t turn on them and their families, watching in mute anger as the raiders desecrated their land.

But then the rider broke through the trees, lifting a brilliant blade.

The cloud had been watching them as they rode, heedless of branches. Their mount passed through the thickets as if they were there. As they had approached the edge of the forest, the rider had drawn their sword, which shone like their armor.

The raiders paused, but seemed to think nothing of the lone warrior. A few approached, waving swords and spears as warning.

Their apathy disappeared as the rider killed the first raider to approach, spurring their horse to meet the second. Likewise, this raider, too, went down, and the rider halted as the third raider fell back to his companions.

The raiders were left in bewilderment, but rallied together to make a charge. The horse under the warrior reared, then was likewise racing forward to meet the horde.

The blade flashed back and forth, any raider coming too close meeting their end with swift and final justice. Within minutes, the surviving raiders were retreating, with only a few animals to show for their losses.

The farmers broke from their tight circle, some surrounding the rider and raising hands in thanks, while others corralled the loose animals and penned them again.

The cloud remained there for as long as it could, but the wind was slowly pulling it into different directions. It could feel separate clouds forming – they were all still connected, but they were becoming more individual and soon would be taking their own places in the sky.

It returned over the village several times throughout then next week. The rider, it now realized, was a woman, with long brown hair. That was unique to those it normally watched, who had jet black hair kept short, regardless of gender.

She led the farmers in rebuilding and training them for if another attack came. One did, but the cloud did not see it, only the aftermath. Another celebration, of their full defeat of the raiders.

But the woman seemed unsettled. She kept looking up at the mountain, as if there was something more for here there. After a few weeks, she left. Two of the villagers followed, both carrying weapons.

The woman and her companions ranged across the valley, helping other villages. Her following grew, until she had ten or so men and women following.

The cloud waxed and waned with the weather. Sometimes, it saw their battles, removing raider after raider, but other times it was barely conscious of existence. That was it’s nature, however, and there was nothing it could do about that.

On the days it could, it followed the group with close interest. It broke apart slightly as they danced under the moon, reveling in another victory. It became thick and heavy as they strove against a massive bear that had become brazen with destruction.

But throughout, the woman’s gaze would wander up toward the mountains. There was something up there she wanted, but the cloud could not tell what. It knew the facets of the mountainside, and could not see anything that the woman would want. It could only trust that she would find it.

Then, one day, she set out, her followers behind her. They had grown, both in number and skill. Now a band of twenty hardened warriors, they set their sights on the tallest mountain. The cloud was near it the day they climbed, and for the first time, felt the woman pass through its mists.

Unlike all the others, where it only felt the sensation of warm skin and dead cloth, the woman was pulsing with vigor. There was something deeper than just expectation or longing, so strong that even the emotionless cloud could sense it. It was drawn in, but even as it tried to study the sensation, the woman and her followers broke away, entering a small cleft in the face of the rock.

They were gone for longer than the cloud could count. So long, in fact, it nearly forgot about them.

It would have forgotten them, except for one thing. That vibrant feeling that the woman had exuded refused to relinquish its grip in the cloud’s attention. The cloud pondered it, day after day. It wasn’t until it saw two young humans, chasing each other through the woods and playing in its early morning mists, that it began to understand.

These young ones pulsed in a similar manner. Not as fervent as the woman, nor for the same reason. These two were young and in love. The woman was looking for something else – what, the cloud didn’t know. But both, at their core, were looking for something similar.

Like these children, the woman was looking for something deeper than just emotion or victory. She had her sights set on fulfillment.

The cloud didn’t completely understand. After all, it was a cloud, and existing in that to the fullest was fulfillment enough. However, it did understand the pull of something with a meaning you could not yet grasp. The woman, with her glowing armor and proud steed, had done that for it. What had captured the woman’s attention, the cloud didn’t know, but it hoped she found it.

It hoped? For something other than for itself?

The cloud had never hoped for anything in its existence. It had longed not to be pulled away from a beautiful scene, or wished it could protect laborers from the burning sun, but it had never hoped like this before.

As it grappled with this new form of understanding itself, it continued to float across the valley. Lives were born, lives were lost – the circle of life flowed, just as the cloud itself ebbed.

But something was different within it. It wanted – it needed – to find something to fulfill it.

It was on a day when the cloud was thick and heavy, rain beginning to coalesce underneath, that the woman and her followers returned. They had changed again. The woman was still fierce-eyed, armor shining in that strange way. But the followers were hardened and wore unreadable scowls.

The cloud was large and knew much on this day. But there was still more that it did not know. Had she found her fulfillment? Who could say?

What was readily apparent, however, was that the followers no longer bore the same fervor they had when they left. Something had happened while outside of the valley, but what, it did not dare to guess.

They were coming through the forest when the rain started. The worn path they were on began to turn to mud, and the woman in the lead slipped off to lead her horse forward.

The cloud watched them, its rain sliding off their shoulders and onto the ground. One of the men in the group behind the woman looked at the others, then nodded.

They ran forward, catching the woman and throwing her to the ground. Her horse startled, bolting into the undergrowth as the followers gathered around. The woman looked up in defiance, her eyes bright and angry. She was saying something, but the cloud could not tell what.

Weapons were raised – not shining like the woman’s, but dark and twisted. They stabbed down, and the woman fought to evade. Try as she might, she could not, and soon, the man stood over her to deliver the killing stroke.

There was something in the cloud now, something new and different. It was not the disgust and distaste it felt when watching raiders. It was not the disappointment of leaving workers in the sun.

It could not name it, but it knew it.

It knew that, now, somehow and someway, it felt.

A burst of lightning flared into existence next to the man, thundering from the angry, defiant cloud. The soon-to-be killer was blown forward, across the woman. She pushed herself, injured as she was, out from under him and into the woods.

The man attempted to get to his feet, but another thrust of lightning threw him away again. The cloud leaned into this strange sensation, letting it grow hot and heavy inside. Lightning flickered, illuminating the followers as they tried to search. Their eyes flashed, too, hot and angry.

Angry. That was what the cloud felt.

And protective.

It did not know why, but it had a responsibility to protect this woman. Something about her fulfilled it – and that was important.

It had seen life come and go, villages rise and burn, but this woman? This woman would not let go of its attention. She captured and captivated it.

And it would dissipate forever before it let these miserable peasants come near to her again.

As they fled, the cloud experienced a new sensation. It was like the wind, playing with its edges. But this was clearer, and held meaning.

“Thank you,” came the crystal notes of the woman’s voice.

The cloud looked around, trying to find where it was coming from. Then, suddenly, it realized it was no longer in the sky. Instead, it stood amid the forest, over the dying body of the stranger that had caused such a change in it.

It had seen death many times, but it did not understand it. If it disappeared, it was only for a short time. It would return, time and time again. Mortals did not have that same promise.

But, with shocking realization, it found did not want to return every day to find that this woman was no longer there. It would be preferable to know that, if she did pass, it would only have to live a short time without her before passing into the void himself. But there was no such promise. It would remain, forever, stuck in the valley with no one to inspire or fulfill it.

“How can I save you?” it said. It did not know how it spoke, but it did. A voice as wispy as the mist, but as heavy as the thunder.

“There is no way to save me in this realm,” the woman said, coughing. “But you have given me the chance to die in the forest that I love, and for that, I am thankful.”

“There must be a way,” the cloud whispered. It would not accept the end, not so soon after having the woman returned to its shadow.

“Not unless there is a way to the Land of the Night,” the woman said. “But as magical as this valley is, it is not a place of the night.”

A memory stirred, deep within the cloud’s curling mass. What was it about the Land of the Night? Had it been there…Had he been there before?

A name floated just beyond the length of its shadow of knowledge. Something was not right, but it could not ascertain what exactly. “What am I?” it – he – said softly, tendrils of mist touching the rough bark of a nearby tree.

This was not right. It should be above the trees, billowing with the wind and rain. It did not feel, it did not live. It was cloud and storm, raging with power, beyond the mortal emotions of…

Love.

Anger.

Desire.

Fulfillment.

“Bring me to the Land of the Night!” he roared to the storm above, his hand closing on the wood of the tree. Legs, unused to standing, dropped to a knee beside the dying woman. A woman who had been so special that it could call out a living being from an uncaring cloud.

The rain pelted him. He had never felt the rain before, not like this. His arms raised, his connection not yet severed, and brought down the lightning.

It struck in four pillars all around them, arcing away and into each other, filling the forest with brilliant, flashing light. It became all they knew, until the world dropped away and all that was left was the all-consuming white and them two, staring at each other and seeing the other for the first time.

The light receded until it was dark. The cloud above was gone – or perhaps, he realized, they were gone from below.

There was something different now. He was no longer part of that cloud. A sacrifice had been made, and he hadn’t realized what it could cost.

But he put it out of his mind as he looked down at the woman, who, as far as he could see, was still dying. “What do I do now?” he asked.

She studied him, confused. “How did you do that?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “But please, where do I bring you to keep you safe? Don’t make this a waste.”

She smiled, her eyes closing. She was about to speak when a thunderous voice broke between them.

“You are not supposed to be here. What are you doing in the borderlands?”

He pushed himself up, turning to face a tall creature. It wore the head of a bull, with the body of a tall, muscular man, but was wrapped in shadow. Only it’s eyes could clearly be seen, glowing in the dim light. Behind the minotaur creature, there stood a tall, proud house, but beyond that was more of the twilight lit lands.

“I have come to save this woman,” the being that was once a cloud said. “She’s a noble warrior, and was betrayed by those who followed her.”

The minotaur studied the woman on the ground, the nodded. “She is of the Evernight. You, however, are something different.” It inhaled through wide nostrils, as it if was tasting the wind and the rain the being carried with it. “We will deal with you later. Bring the woman inside so we may treat her wounds.”

With the ultimatum, it turned away and strode back to the house. The being knelt again and picked up the woman tenderly. Then he followed the creature.

The woman opened her eyes again. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome,” he said, looking down. “Please. What’s your name? What should I call you?”

They were stepping up to the door, the minotaur standing just inside the doorway, holding it open for them.

“You can call me Margaret,” the woman said.

He did not know who nor what he was. But this name gave him something he would have not thought possible.

Brimming with fulfillment, he stepped into the house.