The legend begins final format

by gmakalani

  Copyright 2015 Georgina Makalani

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-0-9945131-0-6

  In all corners of the world men whisper about the legends of Iski Flare, filling their mundane lives with tales of his bravery. Village children pretend to have his adventurous nature and skills with the axe, while women dream of his kindness and strength. This is a new tale, one you haven’t heard, the story of where it all began.

  Edris stopped on the ridge to watch the children running through the silvery green fields. Squeals of delight echoed off the valley walls and a contented sigh escaped her lips. This was the place for her to settle. Her feet ached from the days of climbing through the rocky paths. Edris had passed through many villages before finding the little sign. As her hand traced the lettering, that marked the track over the hills to Muteguard, her fingers hummed with magic.

  Muteguard sat in the centre of the patchwork of fields. Neat white cottages surrounding the town square glinted in the sunlight. Beyond the fields a thick forest flowed down the valley and beyond. She shifted the large carpet bag in her hand and smiled. Leaning heavily on her stick she clambered down the rocky path towards the little town. The sun shining on the cross above the little church guided her.

  The people hushed and slowed around her as she made her way towards the town square. Despite her painful feet Edris nodded politely to everyone she saw yet no one spoke to her. She slowed a little but no one even offered to take her bag.

  The shingle squeaked loudly as it swung in the breeze calling her attention to the tavern. Pushing open the door it took her a moment to adjust to the dim light inside. There were far more men inside the tavern than she expected for the early hour of the day. Dotted around tables they watched her closely with their arms crossed across their chests.

  “Do you have a room?” she asked, her throat dry from the hours of travel.

  The man behind the bar stared as his hand worked a dirty cloth around the inside of a large glass.

  “I have walked for days,” she said slowly, stepping further into the room, the smell of ale had seeped into the very fabric of the building. “Do you have any room for an old woman?”

  “We don’t serve your kind in here,” he said slowly, focused on the glass.

  The men turned back to their glasses and she straightened her shoulders a little before heading back out into the summer air.

  The women standing in the square looked away as she hobbled towards the fountain. She dropped her bag on the rough cobblestones and lowered herself down onto the edge of the fountain, allowing her hand to trail into the water.

  “What are you doing?” a little boy asked.

  “I am looking for somewhere to stay,” she said smiling down on him.

  “In the fountain?”

  “I stopped to rest. I have travelled for days. Do you know of somewhere I could stay?” she asked leaning forward. She wanted to run her fingers down his soft tanned face but, with some effort, she held her hand still.

  A woman stepped forward and wrapped her arms around the child, pulling him back. “She wants to stay, Mama,” he said.

  The old woman rolled her shoulders and then slowly moved her head from side to side. Edris pulled her wet hand from the fountain and wiped it over her face.

  “We don’t much like strangers,” the woman said, moving the child behind her.

  “I mean no harm, dear,” she said, standing slowly. “I was just looking for a place to stay.”

  The woman shook her head.

  “You don’t have anything? No room for a little old woman?”

  She shook her head again.

  “In this lovely place where the children laugh and run and play, you cannot entertain an old woman?”

  “No,” she said more clearly.

  Edris sighed. “I’ve been looking for a place like this,” she said. “Somewhere to call home.”

  “Not here,” the woman said, a crowd forming around her. “We don’t like strangers. We don’t get many visitors.”

  “I know why they don’t come,” Edris said, her old voice barely audible. She bent down and unbuckled her weathered carpet bag and reached in, “I know why they won’t come again.” Pulling her old wand from the bag she raised it slowly towards the crowd moving in around her; disappointed she had to resort to this so soon.

  “You are all cold and heartless,” she whispered, but her voice carried throughout the town. “You are unfeeling and unloving towards an old woman who just wants a place to rest.” She pointed the wand at the woman with the child and with the slightest movement in her wrist, moved the tip around in a very tight circle.

  “You’re a witch,” she whispered.

  “Yes,” Edris said smiling broadly. “I could have helped you. I could have helped Muteguard. But I know you for what you are and you shall live as you are. Cold and unfeeling. Your world will reflect your hospitality.” She raised the wand above her head and the sun disappeared behind a cloud.

  The crowd that had been forming started to murmur and the men poured out of the tavern. Edris lowered the wand and as she turned in a slow circle, the snow began to fall.

  “You shall live in your little town with no visitors,” she whispered. “And you shall live in the warmth of your hearts.” She dropped her old wand back into the bag and closed her hand around the leather handle. She walked through the unmoving crowd as the snow fell and the people watched her go.

  “Good riddance,” someone called out and she laughed as she walked into the fields, the fresh crops burning at the touch of the snow. As the snow fell, Edris continued beyond the fields and into the thick forest that flowed down the valley.

  Margaret and Esther sat by the fire in silence and watched the flames lick over the wood. Sipping their hot drinks, they contemplated the futures of their unborn children. A spark jumped in the fireplace and both women leaned forward.

  “It won’t be tonight,” Esther said.

  “The coals have told the truth before and we might see our futures in them.”

  “So you said when we were girls and nothing came of it then.”

  Margaret sighed. “One of us may bear the children prophesied to end this.”

  “You truly believe?”

  Margaret nodded, still watching the fire. “My grandpapa saw it himself. Two babes born together that would defeat this winter.”

  Esther shook her head. “Nothing will defeat this winter as long as this curse remains.”

  As the fire popped, they both jumped and then leaned forward again as two hot coals rolled onto the rug.

  “It is a sign,” Margaret said, grabbing at Esther’s arm.

  “Maybe this is the end of the cold,” Esther said, her hand moving over her swollen belly.

  Margaret nodded rubbing her hand in a similar motion over her own. “Perhaps I am carrying the twins that will free us.”

  “Perhaps I am,” Esther said. “Which way do the coals face?”

  They both looked again as the cooling coals burnt into the rug, strangely shaped they could have indicated little people and they could have faced either one of them.

  “We shall have to wait,” Esther said.

  Margaret nodded and sipped her drink as the child within kicked firmly against her; or one of them.<
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  Esther and Margaret gave birth on the same day, at the same time with only a wall between their screams. Their husbands paced in unison along the hallway, their paths crossing at the doors behind which their wives laboured, pausing only occasionally to nod support to the other.

  “A boy,” the midwife said from an open door.

  “A girl,” the other said a moment later.

  Edward silently stood by the door as Margaret nursed their son, Iski. He was a handsome boy with large blue eyes and thick dark hair and despite his healthy nature and eager sucking ability she was somewhat disappointed that he was only one.

  Robert sat on the bed and smiled over Ester and his daughter and when Edward came to invite him to the tavern, he shook his head. Their daughter had been quiet from the moment she was born. She stared up at her mother with pale blue eyes and a shock of red hair. Despite the protests of the midwife she insisted on calling the child Flare. For she saw something of the fire in her despite her quiet ways and she sighed with contentment as the child suckled. Pleased that she was just one and that she wouldn’t be at risk of any strange prophesies Margie’s grandfather might have dreamt up.

  They had lived this long in the winter; they could live a little longer. What would they do with themselves if there was a summer sun? If they had really longed for such a world they would have left this one long ago, or searched out the witch who had cursed them in the first place. For there were stories claiming that she still lived somewhere in the forests that surrounded their village.

  “Iski wait for me,” Flare called as she raced after him around the fountain and through the broken wall of the old church.

  “Like I would leave you behind,” he muttered as he stopped and looked over the crumbling structure before him.

  “You did yesterday,” she whispered.

  “It wasn’t safe,” he said taking her hand as she stepped up beside him, her long red hair whipping around the two of them.

  At her silence he looked at her and she stared at him, her eyebrows raised. He shrugged despite the discomfort the look gave him, and they stepped forward as one through the gaping wall that used to house a door and porch. What had once been a large stained glass window in the rear wall of the church was now an open hole. The stone altar and the high roof the only indication of what it was in its former years. The pews had weathered and rotted where they once stood leaving nothing but broken wood and dust.

  Iski had heard his father talk about the waste of wood, allowing them to rot like that. But no one agreed with him. There had to be some respect someone had said but with no priest Iski wasn’t sure what there was to respect.

  “What are you children doing in here?” a loud voice echoed through the space and Flare’s hand tightened in his.

  “We were hiding,” Iski said not turning around.

  “This is not a place to play.” Old Frank lived over the tavern and he often followed them in to remind them not to play in the building.

  “There aren’t many places to play,” Iski said.

  “Don’t you give me attitude, young man,” he snapped.

  Iski sighed.

  “I will tell your father what you do,” Old Frank continued.

  “Like he cares,” Iski said turning on him and the old man gave him a solid stare. “Come on Flare, let’s play in the snow.” He walked her back out into the town square.

  “You know my dad cares about you too,” Flare whispered.

  “Shh.”

  Old Frank muttered as he headed back into the tavern.

  “What did he say?” Iski asked.

  “What he always says,” Flare said squeezing his hand. “You kids won’t live to see ten,” she said in a deeper voice.

  Iski laughed and dropping Flare’s hand he raced out and around the fountain and along the path beside the church. He pushed through a small hole in the side of the building. Flare was not far behind him and as they squeezed through the hole into the dark, two small boys leapt out of what was once a confessional.

  “What would we do any different at ten?” Billy asked.

  Iski shrugged. “Who knows? It is hard enough at eight to find some fun.”

  “We could head into the forest,” Billy offered. “My dad said something about giving me up to the witch if I didn’t behave. Maybe we could find her and ask her to turn off the snow?”

  The other three stared at him open mouthed.

  “Don’t leave me in the dark,” a teary voice called out and Flare strode around the altar to find little Essie crouched down behind it.

  “Found you,” she said. “And it’s not dark.”

  “It could be,” Essie said. “You won’t go in the forest?”

  Flare shook her head. “Our turn,” she said and racing passed Iski she took his hand and pulled him out of the church and around another building to find a hiding spot.

  The old church had crumbled more over the years and Flare stood before the yawning hole that used to be the back wall, looking into the strange space beyond. The snow lay as thick on the floor as it did outside, but now they were grown they no longer visited the space. And it was no longer safe, some sections of the floor had dropped and the roof had fallen away.

  Life was easier when they were children. Flare sighed, watching her breath form as a fog before her and float slowly into the ruin. She could still hear the old man calling out to them as he did when they were children. But there were no longer any children running and playing. Those that could left as soon as they were able, yet other than over the hills she had no idea where they went and who took them in.

  “You aren’t trying to relive the past are you?” Iski’s rich voice asked behind her and his hand rested softly on her shoulder.

  “Just looking.”

  His hand moved quickly down her arm and then taking her hand tightly in his he pulled her closer. “Want to sneak into the back of the tavern?”

  She laughed as she pushed out of his tight hold, her hand lingering on his chest distracted for a moment. When had he bulked out like that? “Nah,” she said. “There must be something in this town we could do.”

  “Sure,” he said leaning against the wall of the church, she was certain he would push it down but then he pushed himself away from it. He gave her a little nod before continuing. “Your mam would like to see you sewing or the like,” he said, the grin wide and he leapt out of reach before she could slap him.

  “And my father could use a hand cutting wood,” she said.

  He shrugged then and looked away. Flare bit her lip and silently cursed herself. His father might not have been much use when he was alive but a distant father was better than none.

  “Sorry,” she muttered putting her arm around his waist and leaning into his back.

  “My fault,” he said. “I should be doing more, being a man and all. Hey,” he said turning on her as she started to giggle.

  She held up her hands in apology but continued to laugh. “I’m sure one day you will grow into a fine man.”

  He stared for a moment and then laughed with her. He sighed and looked at her seriously.

  “It’s cold today,” she muttered, looking away from his intense stare. “Maybe we should sneak into the tavern.” When she looked back, he still wore the same look. “What?”

  He shook his head.

  “I’m listening,” she said.

  “No one else does.”

  Flare looked at him seriously. “Is your mam talking twins again?”

  He nodded and sighed. “Maybe we should leave,” Iski said.

  “And go where?”

  He shrugged and she leaned against him.

  “We don’t know what’s out there,” she said. “No one that leaves comes back. Maybe there is nothing beyond Muteguard.”

  “I’ve heard animals in the woods.”

  “But no one goes in there,” she whispered squeezing his hand.

  “Let’s have a lo
ok,” he said turning quickly. “No one would find us there.”

  “That’s why we shouldn’t go.”

  He quickly kissed the top of her head and smiled down at her. She smiled back despite her fears “You know I would follow wherever you asked.”

  “Always a step behind,” he whispered.

  “Only because your legs are so long.”

  He laughed and stepped back. “Come on,” he said, running ahead and she had to race to catch him up.

  The woods were just as cold and snow covered as the town and as they walked beneath the dark canopy Iski could hear the wood cutters. He took Flare’s hand, warm in his and pulled her through the thick trees. Strange noises filtered through the branches, animals he didn’t know and brittle branches on the path but he pulled her along all the same, feigning courage and wanting her only for himself.

  Once he could no longer hear the axes or the men he stopped. She was right; he should be working with them to support the town in some way and not just skiving off. But it wasn’t what he wanted. “Let’s run away,” he whispered.

  She laughed and he stepped back.

  “We aren’t kids anymore.”

  He gulped down his disappointment and nodded. He desperately wanted to be the man she needed him to be but he didn’t want to end up like his father, bitter and twisted; his days spent in the tavern.

  “It’s funny that no priest comes but the ale arrives every week,” she said looking up at him. He ran a thumb over her lip and nodded not really listening to what she said, just watching her mouth move.

  “We could hide in the cart,” she whispered and his thumb stopped tracing.

  “You are serious,” he said.

  “You want to leave,” she said, looking down and away from him. “I can’t let you go without me.”

  He pulled her close suddenly, his arms closing around her slight frame. “I would never go anywhere without you.” He kissed her and as her arms threaded around his neck, he pulled her closer.

  “Promise,” she whispered.