Omens of the Great Spring

Prompt Quest #3 This is a short fantasy story inspired by The Lunar awards Prompt below

Fantasy theme prompt

Write a fantasy short story that takes place in a mysterious village where the cultivation of a magical crop is the community's primary means of survival. A malevolent force threatens to destroy the crop and anyone who gets in the way. Can an unlikely hero rise up to save the day?

Omens of the Great Spring

She knows the Great Tree, the All-Provider, Sky-toucher, Home of the Wind, House of Birds, Rock Breaker, Ageless One. She knows all the names but she does not yet know the true name.  Sitting in her favourite perch, she surveys the far horizons, watches birds thread the clouds below, takes long slow breaths counting twenty in and twenty out, the air so thin that it gives visions. She dreams that she will be the next to know the sacred name, the next to be Sister.

The Great Spring! To be born at such a time? And to be chosen as Sister? Surely? No one knows the Great Tree as I do! Surely it will be me, the Tuun Sisar?

These are the thoughts of Orava, of the Guild Vaimo.  She swings and scurries, tail up as down she goes. It will take her the darkening half of the day to climb down.

-o()o-

Deep within the warming earth, Mayra, the Yurenmaagi, prepares for the Sapping.  Two acolytes attend him – one holds the cup the other holds the spile. The obsidian sapping spine catches dim candle flickers as Mayra hefts it.  He turns to face the great root, countless scars from Sappings mottle it but Mayra finds a place. The soft fibres between the hard yield most easily.  The Great Spring is surely close. What a time to take the Sap! he thinks, feeling the flesh of the tree parting beneath his subtle hand.

-o()o-

High in the Great Tree, Mantynaa, the Ajantarkaa prepares and cleans the lenses and the astrolabe. She smiles to herself as she spies Orava through her lenses on a distant bough. ”You think nobody sees you, but I know what you are up to,”  Mantynaa chuckles to herself, before turning the lenses skyward. Kaukana, Lahella and Kuu – the three moons  - are coming to alignment – her measurements show it undeniably – the Kolminkertainen approaches and the second Long Year is proven. What a time for a Watcher to behold the skies! she thinks.

-o()o-

In the village of Kyra, the Yuuriveli are returning from the fields. The darker part of the day is always the better for harvesting roots, and the carts are heavy laden  Have there ever been palsternakken as plump and delicious?  Bu then the roots begin to glow, faintly at first, but brighter and brighter as the light from all three moons strengthens in the darkening dusk. All chatter ceases, because this has never been seen before. 

“Call the Yurenmaagi!”, “Gather the Guilds!”,  “It is a sign!” cries of wonder erupt and villagers throng to the square, but then, loudest of all comes a shout of anguish.

“Make way, make way! The Yurenmaagi is dying!” It is Mayra’s acolytes, and between them they drag the senseless body of the old Yurenmaagi, his lips blackened and his eyes rolled back into his head, a frightening white.

“Make way! We must take him to the Healer – empty a cart and bring fresh beasts to pull it, or it may be too late!”

In the commotion, Hallit,  Yurenherra, and village Lord, strides from the long house. The circle of village folk who have gathered around the prone form of the Yurenmaagi make space for him. Uninga, his Spouse, joins him, pulling a warm cape around her.

“What has befallen him?” asks Hallit, a hand on the shoulder of one of the acolytes and fire glowing in his eyes.

“It was the Sapping, Lord.  The Yurenmaagi tapped the root, but he had no sooner drank one sip than he began to choke, his lips blackened, and he fell!”

At this telling, the second acoloyte sobs raises her hand, holding up the Sapping Cup to Hallit  “The Sap is tainted, Lord.  It is poisoned!  The Great Tree has poisoned him!”

“This cannot be!” exclaims Uninga. “Never in a thousand years has poisoned Sap been written of!  Let me tend to him, I know some Healing.”  She crouches down but it is too late.  With a rattle and a shudder, the body of the Yurenmaagi convulses, stiffens then slumps and in dying, bloody froth turned almost black belches from his mouth to pool about his head. The crowd wails as one and all step back, away from the foulness.  Uninga takes the Cup and sniffs at it, recoiling at the strange, powerful scent. She takes a vial from her pouch and tips it up, collecting the remaining Sap.

“We must take him to the Healer,” says Uninga “She will divine the truth of this death!”

In the crowd, Orava stands alone. She thinks on at what Uninga said “Never in a thousand years has poison Sap been written of!”  but Orava knows this not to be true. “Not poison, at least,” she thinks “But there have been dark omens…unnatural Sappings, long seasons past, and well written in the bark scrolls.”   Orava runs to the Yurenmaagi Guild house, and down the spiralling stairs to the archive burrows.

-o()o-

Uninga rides with the beasts to the river where the Healer awaits them, outside her lichen-crusted tower, as if she has sensed their coming. They lay out the body of Mayra on a stone table.  “We must keep him outside, lest it be a sickness that travels,” the Healer says.

“Not sickness, Healer. Poison!” Uninga hands over the vial. The Healer opens it and inhales deeply. “But this is Sap!” she murmers “and yet also…not Sap. What mixing has been wrought here?!”

“We were witness to the Sapping, oh Healer!” says an acolyte. “It is the Sap, and nothing more. Truth of all truths!  We saw it flow from root to cup and then to his lips. It was but a moment later and he fell. The Great Tree has become death!”

The Healer fixes them each with a keen stare.  “Come. Bring him. The lichens will tell us the truth of this.”

-o()o-

Orava knows the labyrinthine Guild burrows. Tail down for balance, she runs as fast she can to the archives.  She comes often to slyly read the bark scrolls, on the pretext of oiling them, bewitched by histories and the interweaving of seasons, harvests, Sappings through all the different Years of the Moons and Suns. There is an answer here, she thinks.

-o()o-

In the Healer’s tower, on the Lichen Stone, the lichens creep and grow over  Mayra’s body. It takes two days for the lichen story to be told, but it is not what Noita was expecting. She calls down the whole of Jakala Guild to witness. “Mark this well,” she says. On Mayra’s body, all across it, marking out his veins, and thickening round his neck and mouth, Vihrea, the green lichen, lichen of life, virility, longevity, is tracing out a filigree and blossoming with glowing floating spores.

-o()o-

In Kyra, everyone is waiting, waiting for Noita the Healer to come. The whole village feels uneasy.  Hallit has called up a garrison.  The Councils sit in confusion. In the root meadows, the Yurivelli  shake their heads at the strange crop. “This is not the way of things, the way of our soils.”  Deep in the Burrows, Orava sees nothing of these things.  She chews leaves that fend off hunger and tiredness. She is close to something, and cannot stop. She pulls out scroll after scroll working backwards, then forwards…

“Years of Moons, Years of Suns, Moons of the Young and Old, the Sinkutainen, the Katsulotainen  - the single and the double Moon Years…”  suddenly she understands. “Of course! The Kolminkertainen – three Moons standing before the Yellow Sun and the Blue Star  - such power to draw waters from the deepest deep.  The Great Tree is drawing up Sap more powerful than before…but something else always rises with it!”  She traces the word written on the scroll with a finger, then speaks it: “Haudankaivaja, digger of graves” – the Ancients foretold it!

As if her naming of the forgotten horror was the last word of a summoning spell, the chamber she is in begins to shake. Shrilling  a warning as loudly as she can, she flees up the steps, scroll in hand as rocks tumble from the walls and roof. A rumbling guttural roaring follows her up.

-o()o-

In the Village, Noita has arrived; matters called for haste, so she has flown upon Kotka the winged one.  She dismounts and shuffles purposefully to the Guild Halls and the huge bird takes position on a roost pole.  Children gaze in awe “Don’t vex it, pups, or he will eat you!” hisses Noita, flapping her arms and snip-snapping her jaws, laughing as the children scatter away.

Word spreads quickly, Hallit, Uninga and the Guild Councilors leave their halls and chambers to gather around  “Noita, wise Healer of the Guild Jakala, what have you learned from the death of our Mayra, Yurenmaagi? Tell us…is the Great Tree turned to poison, or is some other evil at work?”

“Rest your worries! The Kolminkertainen is upon us. We can see with just our eyes the three Moons above, standing in line, in the face of the Suns.  Thus is the Great Spring summoned up from deep in the earth. The Great Tree needs the most powerful Sap, but Mayra was but one of us, barely more than an insect,” she snaps her fingers. “The Sap is not poison… it is Virhea, essence of Life! Enough for the Great Tree, but far too much life for Mayra’s old bones.”

There were mutterings of disbelief among the Councilors “We cannot trust some creeping mosses…”  “How can too much life begat death?”  but Noita was ready for this.

“I call for another Sapping,” says Noita “ I will draw from the root and will prove to you what the lichens tell.”

The Yurenmaagi protest, almost as one – there is never more than one Sapping in any season  - the traditions are sacrosanct. Uninga joins to side with Noita, and arguments wash back and forth.

“ENOUGH!” bellows Hallit “It is written that when the Guilds will not agree, the Yurenherra may place an acorn on the balance. We shall do as Noita requests. These times call for it. The Great Tree owes us this for the life taken. I have spoken.”

Silence falls on the throng. Everyone wishes to speak, but none dare to be the first. Then a racing of swift feet causes heads to turn and Orava bursts into the circle, stumbles prostrate to the ground a bark scroll flying from her hands “It is coming,” she pants “It is coming!”

Noita stoops to take the scroll “What do you speak of child? What is coming?”

“The Haudankaivaya…digger of graves! The scroll… it is written… it is in the Burrows…but it is coming!  We must run! Run!”

There are a few moments of silence, but then the destruction of Kyra begins. The ground heaves, acolytes clouded in dust run screaming from the Guild Hall then disappear, crushed as the whole building bursts open upon them. A giant beast erupts from within, from out of the earth. There seems no end to it and none can make sense of it. A beast like nothing seen before, roaring and clamouring, huge clawed paws scything through villagers and buildings alike. It hauls itself out of the ground, its enormous tendrilled snout swaying as it takes in the air. Long, cloying ribbons of drool spray drown and trap countless villagers, trying to flee like ants before it.

Kotka, the giant bird, little more than a sparrow beside the beast, takes from its perch and swoops down for Noita, taking her in its claws and up into the air. “TO THE TREE” Noita shrieks as loudly as she can. The bird swoops round and above the carnage, away from the beast, but over the heads of the terrified villagers “TO THE TREE!” The call goes out and those that can obey it.

-o()o-

High in the Great Tree, the shattered villagers gather, hooting softly to each other. Echoes of destruction reach them from far below. Such of the elders of the village who have survived gather together to plan what should be done, but for now, it is enough to have survived. Mothers comfort pups. Youngsters scurry about the Great Tree to stores and chambers, glad to be of use. There is shelter and food enough for all, at least, for now. Long into the dark of the day the elders mutter.  Hallit cannot be found,  they fear him to be dead but nobody wishes to make it fact and claim Yurenherra.  Uninga sits in silence; they think she grieves, but she is practicing a healing of the mind; she knows the village needs a leader, but first she needs to calm the terrors.  Her thoughts are interrupted by a tug on her shawl – it is Orava.

Orava tells how she was able to hide from the beast until its rampages led it away from where she hid. “It is breaking open the root stores, one by one,” she says. “It doesn’t eat flesh – there are countless dead – I couldn’t help them, but it was not eating them. It is the roots that it seeks. When it has eaten its fill, perhaps then it will leave us?”

Uninga thinks on  if it eats all of our roots, we shall starve! We shall have nothing to trade, no flour, no threads, no cloth. It may as well have eaten us all – it would be a quicker more merciful death than starving.

“Orava, you are brave beyond your years, but we cannot wait for that. We must drive it away, or kill it! We must find a way!”  Uninga stand and drops down her cowl – she knows that now she must be the leader the village needs.  She gathers the Elders, and recounts what Orava has revealed. They talk of how to kill it – spears and bows, a trap, burning oils, but the size of the foe, and the ruin of the village leaves them all in dismay.

All hope seems lost, but then, with a silent rush of air, Kotka lands on the bough, and Noita hoots at them from its back “Help an old woman down,” she says, “I bring news of the Haudankaivaya. A Healer I may be, but I know of a way that it might be killed.”

“What? What way is this that Warriors and Maagi cannot fathom?” the Elders clamour round.

“We are sitting upon it!” she says, and holds up Uninga’s flask of the fatal Sap. “But we shall need some nimble feet. And oil skins. We shall have a second Sapping. It was the Yurenherra’s last word!”

Prompt Quest #3