First of a two-parter today - the story is a little longer than usual, hence the split. Inspired by an evil looking snowman that we built together a couple of weeks ago. It was remarkable to suddenly exist.
Of course, it hadn’t happened in a moment. I’d had a gradual realisation of suddenly being. Of being formed. The full realisation of the enormity of existing didn’t sink in until my eyes were added, and I could properly take in the world around me and understand – before that point it had all been abstract. I’d felt myself being moulded, but with no reference points it was difficult to comprehend what I was being made into. After that, I could look down at myself. My fluffy white body, with short stumpy legs. I stretched out my arms, which were brown and thin. One hand had four fingers, whilst the other only had three. My nose was prominent and, whichever way I looked, I could always see it – orange and sticking out. I could feel a hat on my head, and I had a scarf around my neck though, in truth, I didn’t really have a neck – my head was attached directly to my body. There was a young child sitting in the snow in front of me, looking at me. Her mouth and eyes were wide open. It was hard to make out much about her – she was so wrapped up in a big coat, scarf, hat, gloves, that I really couldn’t make out much of her at all. Now I know that she had just turned eight years old and had blonde hair that went to halfway down her back. She was neither tall nor short for her age – just about average. She had a very cute smile that made you smile just to see it, and a manner that made you want to make her laugh. “You can move!” she said, still not having moved out of the snow. The accusation hit me hard. Was I not supposed to move? Surely, I wasn’t simply supposed to stand there all day? What would be the point of being, if you could only be in one place? “Yes,” I replied after a moment. “Did I do something wrong?” She shook her head vigorously. “No, no. I just haven’t seen a snowman move before, so I didn’t know you could.” I nodded to her, trying to be reassuring. She was the only person I had met – I didn’t want to scare her off. “Did you build me?” I asked, wanting to make conversation but not really knowing what about. She nodded to me, her face widening with her smile. “Yes,” she said. Before I could continue any of my sparkling banter, another voice called from out of sight. “Bethany – come in for dinner!” it said. “That’s my mum,” said the young girl, who I now knew was named Bethany. “I have to go now, but I’ll see you tomorrow. It’s the holidays, so I don’t need to go to school.” “Goodbye, Bethany,” I said, waving my four fingered hand at her. “See you tomorrow.” She laughed and waved back. I wasn’t sure what was funny, but it was good to hear the laugh. She ran through the snow, leaving boot prints behind her and I settled in to wait, though I wasn’t sure for what. However, now that Bethany had gone, it didn’t seem like there was much of anything else to do, and so I continued to wait. Every so often, I could hear a bell, and every time it rang, it did so for a little longer. It had just rung twelve times when I saw something new. Above me, flying through the sky, I saw another snowman, much like myself (though this one hadn’t been given a scarf, and his hands only had two fingers each). I wondered if I could fly too, as it would be nice to meet another snowman and to talk. And, as I considered it, I found myself floating through the air as well. It was as instinctive to me as standing had been. Once I was floating high enough to speak to the other snowman, I spoke: “Hello. Where are we going?” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I saw some others go overhead, so I’m following.” Once he pointed them out and I looked in front of us, I could see the others. There were three of them. I wondered if they knew where they were going, or if they, in turn, were following more snowmen. Our speed seemed to be unchanging, so I couldn’t catch up to them to ask, but we also didn’t need to worry about them getting too great a lead. It seemed that we were flying for a long time, but dawn had not yet come when we landed. I had no idea how far we had travelled, or where we now were, but I felt a kind of homing instinct trying to pull me back to the garden where I had been built. That was a worry for another time though, as here there were hundreds, if not thousands of snowmen. Each of us was different, one way or another. Some were taller than others, and some were broader. Combinations of limbs varied, with some having branches like myself and others arms moulded from the snow, much like their bodies. Placement of eyes, clothing, buttons and what constituted a nose – all of these things combined to make each snowman unique. One climbed up onto a tree stump and raised his wooden arms – he had gloves on the end of them, rather than relying on the branches for his fingers – and all of the others turned to look at him. “Fellow snowmen,” he said, his voice deep and booming. “Welcome. Some of you may be wondering why you are here, whilst others simply have some instinctive memory. Well – either way, I’m here to explain what you can expect.” Everybody had silenced themselves to listen to him. “We will have two or three days of delight. The air will be chill, and fresh snow will fall. Children will play with us and we will bring joy to the world. Sadly, this will not last and, once that time has passed, we will melt away. For some of us, our brief lives will be remembered and, next time there is a snowfall, we may be born again. For many of us, this may be the last time. “Over the years that we have gathered here, a plan has been formed to end this cycle, and it has been passed down, memory to memory, snowman to snowman. We are now ready to enact it.” That made me pay attention. I’d been listening, but only with half a mind whilst I looked around and took in the differences between the various snowmen, but my focus was now completely on Gloves. I had only just started to enjoy life, to appreciate existence – the idea of having it torn away after only a couple of days was… I hadn’t the words to describe the feeling. A part of me wanted to leave immediately, to ensure I was back for morning when Bethany would be out and wanting to play. Another part longed to hear what the plan was – how could we stop this? The others around had clearly felt something similar – the noise had increased around the area, and many snowmen were speaking to each other in hushed tones, but enough of them that it was difficult to hear Gloves. After a few moments, Gloves raised his arms again, and the crowd quietened. “The problem, my friends,” Gloves continued once he had quiet, “is the spring. We are creatures of the winter and even in the depths of our own season, the spring is trying to break through and bring her warmth. It is Spring that forces us to melt, and Spring that we must stop.” There was a great deal of nodding amongst the snowmen, and I found myself nodding along as well. It all sounded so simple. Except… how could we stop a season from coming? “Right now, Spring slumbers,” Gloves continued. “She sleeps, which is why we can exist. When she stirs, the thaw will come. Tomorrow night, we will fly again, and travel to where she rests. Those of you who can, follow. We must give of ourselves, and the more of us that are present, the lesser the burden on each of us. “For now, though, enjoy yourselves and get to know each other. If we are successful, we will be able to enjoy each other’s company for far longer.” There was great cheering from all of the snowmen, myself included. It was strange though – we celebrated the solution to a problem that none of us had faced before, and yet Gloves’s speech had made it seem a very real threat. I resolved, over the course of the night, that I would fly with them the next night if I saw them. We spent time, as instructed, talking and dancing, getting to know each other. Some of us spoke of the children that had built us, though few of us had been as silly as I had, in moving in front of the child – apparently, this was not the done thing. However, it was too late and what was done, was done. However, I spoke of what little I knew of Bethany, and looked forward to playing with her the next day. Many of the snowman I spoke to reacted with envy – whilst they might disagree with my actions, they clearly wanted what I had. Some simply grumbled about my foolishness. In the dim light of the pre-dawn, we made our goodbyes and flew into the air again. I could feel where my garden was and, as I flew back to it, I realised that I could feel the meeting site too and that, if I wanted to, I would be able to find my way back there. I wondered why some of the snowmen already knew such, in order to guide others, but there were no answers to be found in my thoughts, and so I dropped the question. It was still dark when I returned to my garden and so I carefully returned to my place and waited. I had resolved that I would try not to reveal that I could move and speak to anybody except Bethany – I would tell her that it must be our secret. The sun had only just risen, and more snow had started to fall, when Bethany came out again. As on the previous day, she was wrapped up well against the cold, in a scarf that looked very similar to my own. She ran out, a large smile on her face and came directly towards me. “Good morning!” she shouted as she reached me. I’d turned, so that I would be able to see the door that she had come from, and so be able to be sure she was alone. I trusted that her mother wouldn’t have been paying enough attention to notice which way the snowman in her garden was facing. “Good morning, Bethany,” I replied. I was sure to speak quietly – whilst I was sure that a noisy child would be largely ignored by those inside, even if seemingly talking to her snowman, any reply would be met with suspicion. “Did you sleep well?” She nodded enthusiastically. “Can we play?” she asked. “I don’t know,” I answered. “I can talk to you, but if I move too much, people might notice me.” She frowned and wrinkled her head. “Would that be bad?” I nodded. “I think so. If people knew that I could move and talk, they might want to break me.” She thought about this for several moments before she finally gave a nod that had a hint of finality to it. “You’re right,” she said. “People might.” “What would you like to play?” I asked. “Well…” she answered, wrinkling her head again. “If you can’t move… I could throw snowballs at you!” I couldn’t help but laugh but stopped quickly. “Go ahead, if you like. I don’t mind – I like the cold.” And that was how we spent the morning. In truth, she wasn’t a very good shot, but she was so delighted with herself, jumping and laughing, when she did manage to hit me, that there was joy to it. Watching how much Bethany enjoyed playing with me just made my memories of the previous night, of Gloves’s words more real. He had been right – how could we let this end after a couple of days. Before she went in for her lunch, she stopped and asked me what my name was. I had to confess to her that I didn’t really have one. Again, her face scrunched up in that way that I’d learned meant that she was thinking hard. “I’ll call you Rudy,” she finally said and, that important job done, she turned and went back into her house. I stood and stared at her back as she went. I didn’t understand why, but as soon as she had given me the name, I felt more… solid. I couldn’t explain it – I was no different, but now… now I had a name. I wasn’t just a snowman with a hat, and a scarf, and seven fingers. I was Rudy. The bell had rung once before Bethany came out again, and again we played. This time she chose “eye spy” – it was another game that we could play without me needing to move. At one point, she asked what I had done overnight. “Did you get bored, waiting for me?” I shook my head with a smile. “No, I went to talk to the other snowmen and play with them.” She didn’t ask for more detail – just accepted that this was obviously a thing that I would have done. “Will you do the same tonight?” “Sort of, Bethany. I’ll meet the other snowmen, but we have something important to do tonight.” Her eyes widened. “What is it?” “It’s a secret,” I told her. “Can you keep a secret?” She nodded emphatically. “Yes, yes, yes. I’m the best secret-keeper. I haven’t told anybody about you.” I nodded to her, trying to make my coal eyes look serious. “Well, I guess I can trust you,” I said. “We’re going to go and make it so the snowmen never melt!” She jumped up, clapping her hands. “Wow!” she said. “How are you going to do that?” “Well – the reason we melt is that Spring wakes up from her nap and makes it a bit warmer. So, we’re going to make sure she doesn’t wake up.” At this, Bethany gave me a sceptical look, one eye wide and the other narrowed. “Don’t be silly,” she said with a tone of reproach. “You can’t do that.” I nodded to her. “We can. One of the other snowmen has a plan.” She sat and leaned against me, her back to my leg. “Would that mean that it never becomes spring, and is always winter?” I nodded, then realised she couldn’t see me. “Yes,” I said simply. “That doesn’t sound good,” she replied. “But it would mean that I could always play with you,” I said. “I know,” she said quietly. “But we need spring. I learned that in school. If we don’t have spring, then flowers won’t grow, and lambs won’t be born, and it will never become Christmas again. We read a story about a wicked witch who made it always winter, and never Christmas.” I paused. I had to admit, that that didn’t sound too good. “If we don’t, then I’ll be gone soon…” I spoke quietly, hoping against hope that she would say that it was worth that great cost, to be able to play with me forever. “I know,” she said. “And that’s sad. But… that’s why you’re special too.” “What do you mean?” I asked her. “Well… if you were here all the time, you wouldn’t be special. I want to play with you now because it doesn’t snow enough for snowmen very often.” We fell into silence and I took a chance, bending to wrap my wooden arms around her. “Don’t worry, Bethany,” I said. “I won’t let it happen. I’ll stop them from doing anything to Spring.” She shifted slightly and hugged me back. “I’ll miss you, Rudy,” she said, and as she did, that feeling of being more solid, more real, struck me again. “I’ll miss you too, Bethany.” It seemed that, to her, the crisis had been averted. I’d said I would stop it, and so I would – simple as that. She cheered up and we continued to play, and as we played she told me more about the wonders of spring, until she had to go in for the evening. She gave me a wave, and I wondered when the thaw would come. Would I see her the next day? I had to stop the plan of the other snowmen – I had promised. Part 2 can be found here.
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Leanna looked down from her vantage point in the trees. The rain was falling around her, but she hardly noticed it. The sight before her was all that her mind could comprehend. The village was gone. Some buildings remained – those that had not burned completely to the ground before the rains had come - but the heart and soul of the village – its people – were gone. The smoke still rose into the sky, coming from fires that fought to burn on despite the downpour. There would be no further damage done here this day, but what had happened was enough. Leanna climbed down her tree, her bare hands and feet moving swiftly down the bark, and walked into the ruins. She was confident that there was no reason to be cautious – she’d watched the site long enough to be sure that none of the attackers had remained. Carefully, she looked through the damaged buildings and the burned-out spaces in between them, looking for where the people of this village had hidden their heartstone. It would be somewhere – all of the villages had one and it was unlikely that the invaders had taken it. Not impossible, but unlikely. If it had gone, or she couldn’t find it, she would need to track them – this possibility didn’t overly concern her, other than the time it would take. If she could find the heartstone, she could be far swifter. She moved aside some debris and found it, right up against the side of one of the buildings and completely covered with the burned remains of undergrowth. It appeared that the villagers here had either forgotten the old ways or had been remarkably clever to hide the stone as soon as they saw danger approach. Either way, she could still use it to find them. The stone was giving off heat, but not from the fires – they couldn’t have touched it. No – heartstones burned with an inner heat, the heat of the soul of the village. Only when every soul that was connected to this stone was dead would that heat fade, and the sense of warmth gave Leanna hope. She placed her hands upon it, attuning to the stone and adding her own energy to that which it already held. She compressed hundreds of days of belonging into an instant and, in a very real way, joined this community. As soon as it was done, she could feel where her people were. Somewhere to the south-east, a few miles away. Movement had clearly been difficult through the forests with so many people or they would have made greater speed, but that was all to her benefit. She could find her friends and family swiftly. Jericho walked as part of the line of villagers, carefully stepping over tree roots and other obstacles, desperately not wanting to trip. He had seen what had happened to those of his friends that had slowed down the weary procession through the forests. Each time, somebody nearby in the line had tried to stop the abuse, the whips, the beatings – but all that that had achieved had been two people being punished rather than one. Still, they kept doing it though – they were a community. Something had changed though. He could feel it and see it in the expressions of his friends. The faces that had seemed despairing now had a glimmer of hope in them. In himself, he recognised a newfound sense of confidence. This was temporary. They would escape, or be saved, or something. He didn’t know where it came from, and it seemed completely inappropriate. He knew from the masks that their guards wore that they were being delivered to be sacrificed to their foul god. Now, when villagers met each other’s eyes, it was with a smile, rather than with fear. He heard a soft sound from his left and looked over. There had been a guard there a moment earlier. Hadn’t there? He took a moment to glance over his shoulder, looking back where they had come and wondered. Surely, there had been more guards behind him before? Where were they now? As he watched, he saw some return to the line, but still – it didn’t look like it was all of them, and those that did appeared to be spooked. They moved slowly, and looked everywhere, on edge rather than celebrating their raid. One ran forward along the line. Some of the villagers caught Jericho’s eye and grinned at him. Not even the smile of confidence that rescue would come, but the grin of knowledge that it had arrived. He watched the single guard run forwards, presumably to tell something to his superiors at the head of the line. He didn’t get there. One moment he was running and, the next, as they rounded a corner, he was gone. Jericho marked the place where he had been and, when he passed it himself, he saw the footprints in the ground simply stopped. He looked up into the trees and saw her face. She smiled at him, and raised one finger to her lips, requesting his silence. He couldn’t make out much of her, hidden in the trees as she was, but he felt that he should know her, as if she was somebody that he saw every day but couldn’t quite remember. Either way, he knew that he could trust her. He glanced up and down the line – all of the guards looked concerned now. Each was looking into the woods and paying little attention to the villagers that they were supposed to be guarding. She saw others emerge from woods, each looking even more worried than those that had stayed on the line. They were learning what it was like to be the prey when there was a predator around. Leanna climbed quickly back up into the canopy of the trees so she could watch the whole procession of guards and their prisoners. She had managed to thin the numbers, but there were still too many for her to finish swiftly. There were more of them than she had anticipated but she couldn’t stop now. These were her people. She made her way through the treetops. The line of people was moving even more slowly now that the guards knew that there was somebody hunting them and getting in front of them was easy. Leanna waited on a high branch that reached across the path that they were taking and watched them approach. She allowed the first few guards to pass under and then, before any of the prisoners could get too close, dove down to land on one of masked men. As she landed, all turned to see her. This was her most blatant attack yet, but it was needed. As she bore him to the ground, her feet on his chest, she slit his throat and dove into the woods again. Their leader dispatched five of his men to chase her down and she wondered if he knew that he would never see them again. Once she was in the woods, she could not be bested by such as these, as least in such low numbers. She led them on a chase through the woods, always keeping the feel of the villagers in her mind and not moving too far away. She wanted enough distance that they couldn’t call for backup, but not so much that she couldn’t quickly return. She led them to a ditch, nimbly leaping over it herself, but then turned to watch them cross it. They were not capable of the leap she had made and so, as a unit, fell in. She left them to the snakes that she knew resided there. Leanna climbed high again, taking stock of where in the forest they were, and moved towards the line of people again. She found them and was surprised to see that they had stopped completely. Each guard was holding a prisoner, with a sword to their throats. They had gotten wise to her tricks and had worked out what her goals were. The leader at the front was shouting something, but she didn’t concern herself with his words – the intent was clear enough. She must surrender, or these people would die. She moved ahead of the people – her only option now was to be able to scare them into leaving their prisoners alone. She descended to the ground and moved carefully, herself suddenly aware that she was vulnerable, but needing to take the risk. She saw the cave, set into a hillside, and moved in quietly. She could hear the heavy breathing of the creatures within and knew that they were already aware of her. One careful step at a time, she approached, until she saw the first of the wolves. It padded up to her, seemingly more curious than concerned, and she reached out with her energy, with her sense of connection. That same sense that told her that the villagers were still confident that she would save them. That same sense now inserted her into this pack. She spoke, not with words, but in the way of wolves with ideas that they themselves sensed through that shared connection. She thought of the people that were threatened and how they were also family. Also pack. The wolf howled, the sound echoing through the cave, and the rest of the pack stalked up to join it. They were all connected. Now Leana turned and ran and the pack ran with her. Jericho stood quietly, a knife to his throat. Long minutes had passed since their captors had stopped the procession through the woods and started to make demands. He still felt that their saviour was out there somewhere. He wasn’t worried. Yes, he was threatened, but she was coming back, and she would save them.
Though he wasn’t sure how. The leader was still shouting out into the forest, ordering her to give herself up. Of course, she wouldn’t do that. Jericho was sure of that – threatening to kill the prisoners might make her act more swiftly, less cautiously, but it wouldn’t make her surrender. She would know that they were only being taken to be sacrificed anyway. The howls echoed through the forest, seemingly coming from all around them. Wolves? The guards holding them started to look round again, filled with that instinctive fear of predators. Jericho didn’t feel the same. Perhaps it was that he was already in danger, and the addition of wolves didn’t change that. Or, somehow, he felt that they wouldn’t harm him. Some of the guards lost their nerve and dropped their prisoners, running into the forest. Screams followed shortly after, which made even more panic and run. The leader shouted at his men to stand. He called for them to stay with the prisoners. Safety was in numbers, not alone amongst the trees. The wolves emerged from the treeline, quietly and with menace. They stared at the guards. One of them leapt to attack the nearest wolf, but to no avail and he died swiftly, it’s teeth on his throat. Another threw a prisoner at a wolf, possibly seeking to distract it. The wolf ignored this, and let the prisoner run into the trees and escape. Elsewhere, a guard moved to cut the throat of his prisoner, and the nearest wolf growled. He stopped. Jericho heard a noise from the front of the line and looked – the woman had come running out of the treeline with two wolves flanking her. They ran straight for the leader of the cultists and, at that sight, even he lost his nerve. He dropped his prisoner, he dropped his weapons, and he dropped to the floor. The wolves showed no mercy, ripping into him with ferocity sufficient to break the courage of all of the rest of them who, likewise, dropped their prisoners and ran into the forest. The screams followed soon after. As soon as the threat was gone, the woman started to move through the crowds of prisoners, cutting bonds. As each was freed, they moved to free others, and the task didn’t take long. The woman herself came up to Jericho to release him. “I knew you would come,” he said to her as she cut the ropes that bound his wrists. “But who are you? I feel like I should recognise you.” She smiled at him, a look that could have been threatening but, to him, seemed friendly. “My name is Leanna. I’m a friend.” The words this time were magical, light, and string. That combination made me think of the Fate Witches from 7th Sea but I wanted to take a magic like that a little further and do something a little different with it. After some thought, I got this. Tabatha stood from her spinning wheel and stretched out her back. It was aching, and she had to admit that it was starting to do so earlier and earlier each day. It was strange that she didn’t seem to notice it until she had stood up, and that meant that she was able to ignore it if she wanted to. However, it always came back to haunt her – the longer she went on like that, the more it hurt and the longer it took to ease.
She breathed slowly, willing the ache to fade. She wasn’t sure if anything she did helped, but it was better than simply accepting it and doing nothing. Either way, after a few moments it had lessened enough and she moved to the fire, taking some water from the kettle that always hung over it for tea. That fire provided all of the light for the cavern where she spent her days, but currently it was too light. She unfocussed her eyes and looked beyond. To her sight, the cavern faded from view, and she saw string. If she concentrated, she could make out what different things in the true world were, but that was also harder than it had once been. She reached out with her mind and cut the strings that connected the fire to spinning wheel, the table, and the other things around the cave that were currently giving off light. She focussed her eyes again, looking back on reality, and nodded to herself. Much better. Tabatha sat at the table and stirred the tea, awaiting the arrival. It only took two heartbeats and she heard the footfalls from the passage. Right on time. She sat and waited until the young woman came around the corner. She looked exactly as Tabatha had expected – not too tall, and nervous looking, her shabby dress hanging from a very loose frame. Her hair was tangled and dirty, cut short but not with any skill. She couldn’t be surprised that the woman was nervous – Tabatha knew how she herself would appear to the young woman. Old – almost too old to still live. She knew that her own hair looked no better, though for her it was because much of it had fallen out, rather than simply poorly kept. She could also still remember the day, long ago, when she had stood where this young woman did. “Come in,” Tabatha said, trying to sound kindly. “Come in – would you like some tea?” The younger woman hesitated in the cave entrance, her eyes moving quickly, exploring every detail that she could see. “Who are you?” she asked. “How did you know I was coming?” Tabatha smiled in a way that she hoped was warm and welcoming and waved for her visitor to approach. “Come, come. You know who I am, don’t you? Even if you didn’t really believe that I exist.” Silence was the only response. “Ah,” Tabatha continued. “You didn’t really expect to find me, did you? Either way, come on in – the tea will get cold.” She’d found, over years of receiving people just like this young woman, that trying to inject a little normal into what was a magical experience was the best way to put her guests at their ease. Finally, the young woman did come in, slowly and hesitantly, and sat in the chair prepared for her. As she approached, her eyes stayed stuck on Tabatha and only once she had sat down did they move to the tea before her. She took a drink, placed the cup down again, and then folded her hands in her lap. “You’re the witch, Tabatha?” “Well,” Tabatha replied with a smile. “I am Tabatha, but a witch? I suppose some might call me that – mostly men. It’s true that I have some magical ability, but I don’t think of myself as a witch. I think mystic is probably a better word. Now, Sarah, drink your tea before it gets cold. Then we can get to business.” She, again, looked into beyond, and reached out. She connected a string from the fire to the teacups for just a moment, letting them share the fire’s heat to warm them up. Before they could become too hot, she cut it again and re-focussed her gaze on reality. Sarah was staring at her with wide-eyes and Tabatha realised that she had made a mistake in using the woman’s name before she had been told it. She truly was getting old to slip like that. “Don’t worry about it,” she said to Sarah, hoping to calm her again. “I’ll explain everything soon.” Sarah continued to stare, but she reached down and picked up her tea again. She drank it down, seemingly ignoring, or not noticing, the heat. She replaced the cup, and her gaze didn’t shift an inch. “Good,” Tabatha said. “I always say that it’s best to start with tea. Now, would you like to tell me what brings you here? Why you have hunted down a folk tale that you didn’t believe existed?” Sarah opened her mouth, but then closed it again. She was picking at her fingers, though she kept her eyes on Tabatha. “You already know though, don’t you?” Tabatha nodded. “Yes, dear. I know what has happened to you, and why you’ve come. And I’m sorry for what you’ve had to live through.” Sarah took in a deep breath before speaking again. “Can you help me then?” “Not in the way you’re asking for,” Tabatha replied. She put down the cup that she didn’t realise that she’d picked up. Her heart ached for this young woman, and the pain that she had been through, and she wished that she could help. Oh, how she wished she could help. “Fate has another design for you.” “You can’t help?” Sarah’s voice was quiet, only just audible. Tabatha knew that desperation – the feel that she had journeyed for nothing, only to find hope and to then have it dashed. She remembered it well. “How can that be?” Tabatha shook her head. “I’m sorry. All things have their limits, including my power, and even I cannot act against Fate. Just as my predecessor could not help me.” “But the stories? Surely, everything you do changes fate?” Sarah’s voice was louder now, her fear turning to anger. Tabatha didn’t take it personally – she had reacted the same way all those years ago. “No,” she replied, keeping her own voice low and calm. “No – Fate cares little for most people, and I can do as I wish to them. For some, however, Fate has designs which even I cannot work against, and you are one such.” “So, what can I do?” The anger had gone from Sarah’s voice, almost as soon as it had arrived. Now she pleaded, desperate. “You have done what you need to do,” Tabatha replied, stretching out one old hand to place it over that of the younger woman. “You have come to me, and you have had faith. Fate does not choose you cruelly, though it can seem that way. You will have the chance to right this wrong yourself.” “What do you mean?” “You have been chosen to be my successor. You will stay here, with me. I will teach you what I know, both of the world and magic. And then, when your training is complete, you can do what you will.” “You will teach me magic?” Tabatha nodded. “And then I can do anything?” Again, Tabatha nodded. “Yes,” the old mystic said. “I will teach you, and then you can act as you will. However, I give you the warning that my teacher gave me. Fate does not tolerate selfishness. You will be able to use your magical abilities to help yourself in many ways, but if you use them to harm another for your own benefit then Fate will push back.” She shuddered at the memory – she had not taken the warning to heart at first, but she had swiftly learned her lesson. “I can’t quite do anything I want then?” Tabatha smiled. “Oh, yes – you can do whatever you want. If you are prepared to accept the price.” Sarah sat on her chair, staring into the space between them. Tabatha refilled the teacups, understanding well what the younger woman was going through. It was a wonderful offer, to be taught to understand the world in such a way, and to be able to use such understanding to change it, to exert power upon it. At the same time, it meant leaving her old life, any friends or family, her home, behind and not looking back. That could be hard – though, just as with Tabatha so long ago, the pain of that life would make the choice easier. Sarah nodded. “Very well. I accept.” Tabatha nodded in return, not surprised. Nobody ever said no. A part of her delighted that soon she could rest. Another grieved for the life she was inflicting upon another. |
Flash FictionSome shorter fiction, usually based on some kind of challenge. Archives
October 2021
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