So I got waaay too invested into this and it came out waaaay longer than I expected... Sorry about that ^.^'
Tamara of Spring
Once upon a time, in a land far away, there was a kingdom that had only the three seasons of Summer, Autumn, and Winter.
In Summer, the hot rays of the sun baked the ground hard. The irrepressible heat seeping into every crag and crevice. The rivers and lakes dried up, the rains never came and the roots of those few plants that could cling on through the drought grew thin and tired in the dust that became of their home.
In Autumn, the winds tore through the landscape, ripping the meagre plants from the soil and leaving them to tumble, helpless, across the barren wastes. The skies howled their anger throughout the night and dust clouds the size of cities blew from the deserts across the land, choking the plants beneath a thick blanket of chalky powder.
In Winter the rains came to pound the land in great, and terrible storms and blizzards. The sky was rended with the forces of thunder and lightning and the earth, sodden and swampy, sucked unwary travellers into it's depths. Those plants that clung on through Summer and Autumn now drowned in the mire the kingdom became.
It was to this land that Tamara was born.
At the turn of Winter to Summer, on a day where the storms had not yet finished their dance and the heat of the sun had not yet given rise to the drought that would follow. Tamara opened her eyes for the first time. Later, stories would tell of Tamara's great beauty, cast her amongst the great hero myths and princesses of old. In truth, as a young woman with a handsome face, strong features and work worn hands, she would rather have been remembered for her deeds than for her beauty. But such is the way of fable, and such is the way in which she is known.
All children of the kingdom were raised upon the stories of the past. Of a time when the seasons did not tear so hard at the land that they called home. They were raised upon stories of power, of wealth and of magic. Stories that told of a strong, glorious kingdom brought low by a curse. A curse that had trapped a fourth forgotten season beneath the boughs of an oak tree. Cursed it to sleep until there was no longer a kingdom for it to call home. Until the other seasons reduced it to dust and ash.
Tamara too had heard these stories.
It is never certain, why Tamara finally decided to make her journey. In the old stories, she is visited by a dream, or by a prophecy. A message, sent to a beautiful, unearthly maiden who must seek out an end to the curse. In truth, perhaps she was simply tired. Tired of hiding from the oppressive heat of Summer, of running from the shrieking winds of Autumn and of cowering from the bitter rains of Winter. Perhaps she was tired. Perhaps she stopped, and looked around her, at her family and her friends, and thought. Perhaps, all it took to start a journey was the silent thought of enough is enough.
Whatever it was that spurred Tamara to action, it was the old stories that guided her. Bringing with her nothing but the clothes upon her back and a small knapsack filled with bread and cheese, her sewing needle and thread and a small flask of water. She set off upon her journey. In the great epics of her journey the spirits recognised her task, and the bread and cheese never ended, and the needle and thread could fix anything they touched. In truth, perhaps that is what she brought because that is all that she had, all her family could spare her.
Tamara's journey took her from dried river to oceanic lake, across windswept mountain range and through thirsty valley. She walked until her shoes fell apart, and the clothes that she had brought with her turned to rags. She walked, often in silence, sometimes alongside fellow travellers, until at last she reached what seemed to be the edge of the world.
Upon this endless shore Tamara came upon a small, wizened old man, skin so dry it might have been made of dust, sitting by an upturned boat. Upon sighting her, the man gave out a cry of surprise. Voice as cracked and dry as the skin upon his face.
"Oh traveller! Would but you had a small sip of water I might take so that I might quench my thirst!"
Tamara paused, and looking upon the Thirsty Man asked,
"Why if you are so thirsty do you sit here so? When you have all the ocean here to drink, what good might my little flask do you?"
The Thirsty Man laughed, a dry rasping sound,
"What good is an ocean? When I have nothing with which to drink?"
Tamara remain still, before reaching into her knapsack for her flask. Taking it out, she turned to the Thirsty Man.
"If it is a vessel that you need you may have my flask, but please let me drain it myself. So that I too do not go thirsty."
The Thirsty man agreed, and when Tamara had drained her flask of water she handed it to him saying,
"There, now you do not have to go thirsty."
At this, the Thirsty Man brought the empty flask to his lips and seeing that it was truly as she had said, he vanished, crumpling into dust upon the wind. Leaving his upturned boat behind him.
Tamara, needing a way to cross the ocean at the edge of the world, righted the boat. Setting her course to the north and continuing her journey. Though she no longer had a flask from which to drink, the rain came to meet her and fell upon her face and mouth until she was refreshed by it.
There is no telling the things that Tamara saw, alone upon the ocean. For all that there was rain, the air was still, and no wind blew to hasten her journey. It must have felt at once days and months before at last she saw land, and such a land that it was. Rising shear out of the ocean, tall spires and cliffs circled her, the ocean churning between them and the absent wind coiling itself around the topmost towers. Looking upon them it was apparent that there was no way to climb them, salt soaked and wind smoothed as they were, and Tamara resolved to continue onwards, past them in search of her ice sheet.
As Tamara navigated her way through the sharp walls that surrounded her, she heard upon the wind what sounded like a great wail. Curious, she pushed her boat towards the source of the sound and at once saw a man, dressed in a thick fur coat, hurtling from the tip of one of the great spires towards the ocean below. As he fell he let out a great cry that echoed around the cliffs around them, seeming to dislodge dust and shingle clinging to their sides in puffs of smoke. When the man was about to hit the water it seemed as though the winds whistling across the ocean would catch him. Dragging him back to the top of his spire to start his descent again.
On seeing Tamara sitting in her boat watching his descent, the Falling Man cried out to her,
"Oh traveller! Would but you give me your boat! So that I might escape this wind that has me trapped!"
Tamara looked as the Falling Man once more began his ascent before speaking, and let the wind carry her words up towards him,
"Yet my boat is as beholden to the winds as you are in your fall, it will aid you not if you cannot slow your descent!"
Tamara could see that the Falling Man was angered by her response. Face twisted with vexation he once more called out into the wind,
"Then what might you suggest? What could you possibly have in your little knapsack that might aid me in my escape?"
Seeing the force of the gale holding the Falling Man aloft, Tamara reached into her knapsack and withdrew her needle and thread. Using the scraps that remained of her clothes, she fastened a great net that she hung between the towering columns, in the path of the gale.
On seeing the net suspended between the spires, the Falling Mans face twisted even further with a sneer of disbelief, something that vanished when he collided with the net in a thundering crash. No matter how furious the wind blew it slipped through the holes of the net leaving the Falling Man free of it's grasp. Upon this realisation, the Falling man vanished, whistling away into dust carried away on the breeze. Leaving his fur coat behind.
Tamara reached up and took the coat down from where it was suspended in her net, wrapping it around her shoulders to replace the rags she had lost. Turning her boat away from the spires, she set her course onwards, towards the icy reaches of the north. The winds buoying her and her boat forward, speeding her journey.
The further north that the winds carried her, the colder they seemed to become. Biting and nipping at every opportunity. Tamara wrapped her fur coat tighter around her shoulders, glad for the warmth, as she navigated the icy flows that wormed their way around her boat.
Before long, Tamara once more sighted land. A vast expanse of snow and ice jutted out in front of her. Empty except for the vast storm that was brewing across the horizon. As she stepped from her boat, it seemed as though it was only moments before she was engulfed within the blizzard. Loosing sight of everything but the snow. With the sound of thunder crackling above her, and the only light coming from the lightning that seemed to tear the sky. Tamara moved forward into the tempest.
Moving blindly forward, Tamara did not see the split in the ice until she was already tumbling her way beneath it. In a cascade of frost and ice, Tamara fell. It seemed to her an endless amount of time before she finally came to rest inside an icy cavern resting below the ice sheet above. Surrounding her, the cavern seemed as though lit by an inner glow. Blues and greens dancing behind mirrored panes of ice as she slowly made her way towards the centre of the chamber she had found herself in.
At the centre of the chamber, curled in upon himself was a man that seemed to have been carved from the ice that he was resting in. As she approached, she realised that the man was weeping into his hands, and that when his tears hit them, they transformed into crystalline gems of ice that shattered on impact with the floor.
As Tamara approached the Weeping Man looked up, his face marked by some unknown grief and cried out,
"Oh traveller! Leave me be! There is nothing that can be done to aid me! Leave me alone and be on your way!"
Tamara looked upon the Weeping Man, and rather than doing as she was bade unfastened the coat from her shoulders and wrapped it around him.
"If you wish for me to leave then I will do as I am bid. But let me offer what comforts I can before I go."
The Weeping Man remained silent, seemingly content to ignore her, seemingly as unmovable as the glacier that surrounded them. Tamara once again pulled out her knapsack, and reaching into it, withdrew the last of her bread and cheese.
"What I have may not be much, but I offer it to you freely. Before I do as I am bid, let me leave this with you."
The Weeping Man slowly turned his gaze towards the food that Tamara offered him. The frost that had formed upon him cracking with his movements. Raising it towards his lips, the Weeping Man smiled, tears melting rivers in the ice of his face. As it touched his lips, the Weeping Man vanished, a pool of water spreading out in his wake.
As Tamara watched, the water flowed it's way towards the northern wall of the cavern, wearing away the ice, and uncovering a previously unnoticed passage. Standing, Tamara resolved to follow the path of the water and continued her journey further beneath the ice sheet.
The passage seemed almost unending, full of twists and turns that ensured the end was never in sight. The only sounds within were those of the glacier that surrounded her, the creaking, groaning ice, and of Tamaras own footsteps as she waded through an ever increasing stream of water.
Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, Tamara saw the end of the passage, hurrying forward to reach her destination she finally came across what seemed to be an oasis beneath the ice. A glowing cavern, lit by the blue of the ice, and in the centre, on a small grass coloured island an ancient oak tree.
With the excitement of one who has realised their journey is nearly at an end, Tamara leapt from the passage to run up towards the tree. Here was the moment that the fourth season might be awakened. Here was the moment that she could return home, to her family and her friends, and they could at last be at peace.
Cresting the small mound that the tree was resting upon, Tamara breathlessly looked around, searching for the fourth season. Searching for Spring.
There was nothing.
Desperately, Tamara fell to her knees, pulling at the roots of the oak, and at the ground that it was resting upon. Yet no matter how hard she pulled, the roots would not give, and the earth remained unmoved. Resting her head upon her knees, Tamara felt once again the tiredness that had driven her to begin her journey. Scrunching her hands into her eyes, the only thing she wished to do, was sleep.
She did not know how long she knelt there. Head pressed into the roots of the ancient oak tree, when
at last she felt a hand touch her shoulder. Looking up almost angrily to see who had disturbed her, she found herself staring straight into the eyes of the Weeping Man. Surprised out of her indignation, she sat silent as he fastened her cloak around her shoulders, before gently brushing the tears from her face. As he touched them, they froze into tiny snowflakes, that drifted to the floor and melted onto the roots of the tree, and at once she knew the Weeping Man's true name.
Stunned with the force of her realisation, she let him turn her to face the passage she had come from, and there in the entryway she saw the Falling Man, and behind him, the Thirsty Man.
As the Falling Man approached her, a breeze seemed to follow in his wake, rustling the grass beneath their feet and cooling her face. His face seemingly stuck within a grimace, he tugged her arm, pushing her towards the water that surrounded her island. the breeze momentarily carrying with it the smell of wood, and smoke and other earthen things, and at once she knew the Falling Man's true name.
If the first realisation had shocked her, so too did this, and feeling almost helpless she stumbled towards the Thirsty Man, who smiled at her with what seemed to be all the warmth in the world. Reaching out to straighten her, his hand was warm against her shoulder, and she could smell the ocean, the salt and the sand as she caught her breath, at once realising the thirsty man's true name.
Moving past him, Tamara forged onwards, her steps growing steadier and firmer the further she got towards the sky. What had before seemed an endless wait now passed by in an instant, as she rose from beneath the icy sheet, and headed up towards the waiting world.
Leaving the three seasons waiting behind her to travel in her wake.
Reaching the precipice from which she had fallen, she looked up at what had been a blizzard, the great unending storm now slowing it's fervour. The winds and rain ever gentler and ever more quiet as she ascended from the cavern. At her first steps from her frozen chasm, the grass appeared to sprout from beneath the glacial wasteland, and the wind, calm and gentle, blew the smell of pollen into her face. As she looked about her in wonder she realised her coat, now unneeded under the gentle warmth of the sun had melted like the snow. Had twisted into a gown at once every colour of nature. As she raised her hands to the sky, marvelling at the change that had been brought to the once barren landscape she realised one final everlasting thing.
Spring had woken.
Spring had come. |
This is Fara. She is a dryad (wood nymph). She is the daughter of Mother Nature, who protects all of nature; Fara protects and nurtures the forests of Sylestia. (Mother Nature has her hands full dealing with the entire universe, so having kids who can keep an eye on their domain for her is a HUGE help.) She may look friendly and peaceful, but beware; those who desecrate her forests, hurt her trees, and lay to waste her kingdom suffer her wrath. Animals hunt them; trees lash at them whenever they approach; and if somehow they pay no heed to these threats, and carry on destroying the forests Fara so loves, the sun grows dark (but only to the one who is at fault). The skies cloud over, and thunder rumbles. If they try to run, the trees lock their branches together in an impenetrable cage, immune even to fire in their anger. The animals (who at that time form a truce; deer and wolf, owl and squirrel, snake and mouse can be side by side yet do not attack one another, for at that time it is not their fellow animals but the human that is their prey.) surround the offending human. Fara's spirit is in all of them, and for the offender's crimes, they must suffer the pain which they inflicted upon her forest. The wind howls, rushing through the branches of the trees and stems of the flowers; and when it dies down, the human is gone, replaced by a gnarled tree that, if you look close enough, almost resembles a person twisted in agony. They become one with the forest. It might not seem like that bad a punishment, but remember; trees can't speak in English, so when lumberjacks come to the wood, the human-turned-tree has no way to tell them that they are the same.
But Fara is also merciful, and indeed, only does the magic described above rarely, when whole forests are cut down and destroyed. For the most part, she is kind, and benevolent, spending her days peacefully among the trees, watching flowers bloom, giving them life. But, if some hapless mortal wanders into her glade, her mischief comes to the surface, and she will often entice the person into a game of tag, one that they can never win. Like her mother, she is temperamental, and has her moments of anger, but usually, you can find her running silently on wind-swift feet, racing the birds and deer, and the occasional human.
And, if you listen closely to the wind in the trees, you might just hear a voice, sounding like the singing of robins. Strain your ears, and you might just hear what she's saying:
"Catch me!" |
