I was always told to write down my feelings- about my parents, my friends, my life. How I coped, and what happened when I went on my journey, and journeys afterward. But I just could never... Start.
It makes me wonder; I wonder about the Fawn and the Lion, about the terrible things I've done. How I was used- and how foolish I've been!
Every day I turn to this same page in this same weathered journal and run my aging fingers over its dried leather. I used to be a writer before this happened- an explorer before I settled down. I had met so many people; I had written so many tales and myths that now rest in the pit of the Royal library- my own special tithe to the Gray Queen. Writing used to come naturally, fluidly, and tumbled from my hand until it filled page after page of each journal to the brim.
But now it has left me; like everything else.
...
The life of an explorer can only last so long. When I came of age and decided I didn't want to wed Suzanne of Blackwood I just packed my bags and set off, I didn't know where I was going, but I was fine as long it wasn't into the saggy arms of Suzanne.
It just so happened to be the best thing that ever happened to me.
I wandered the land of Istori from the polar North to the dead lands in the South. I came across the monsters of old times and disproved the folk tales that haunted villages since before I was a brief thought inside my own parents brain.
Misleton - an uneducated village near the western shore- had believed for ages that fearsome dragons came and stole their children when they swam. Laughably; those dragons ended up being oversized crocodiles, and within a year, those crocodile's skins were traded across the sea and Misleton became one of the richest undeveloped cities in Istori.
But some fairy tales proved to be all too real.
It was spring, and the sixteenth year of the Gray Queen's reign. By this time I had a wife back in the city of Ibarra- the Capital of Istorian state- and she had just learned she was with child. But I had no time to celebrate, I was sent on business of the Queen to the town of Kios; where the White Fawn was said to be dwelling in their woods.
But I was also there on more personal matters.
The people of Kios were fortunate with the birth of strong sons and beautiful daughters. Songs were sung of how the land of Kios' was fertile from the droppings of this White Fawn, and that the children born into this state too will be fortunate with life and be fertile.
I was here because of my troubles with children- we had already had lost so many to our infertility. Five misscariages, in less than six years; we often said it was just the deck we have been dealt- but if the rumors were true, what lay in the heart of Kios' woods could save us.
So I came- and I came for the blessing of the White Fawn, Ceveo.
...
Talking to the people of Kios about the fawn was easier than I expected. Most villagers tend to be ignorant of superstitions, and I usually have to hunt down misplaced scrolls or rummage through dropping piles to find books that were disregarded, and instead used for compost.
But the people of Kios seemed used to tourists; and they spoke easily and freely of the Fawn- hunting down songs wasn't a problem, for they had memorized them.
By the day's end the Village Elder's promise to lead me to the Forest of Kios at Dawn. But only at Dawn, and he refused to tell me why when I asked further.
...
From the beginning of their life the children of Kios were told they owed their life to Ceveo, the White Fawn. Every year he falls in the sky to the Black Lion, Xerxes. The death of the White Fawn thus started the beginning of winter, but what the villagers didn't know is that the stars are just that- stars. There were no more legendary gods that raced through the sky with their battles marked with the splash of comets.
Xerxes and Ceveo were only a collection of lights- and that the real gods, the ones that made the earth quake; fed off blood, not stardust.
But in the morning before the venture into the woods, I found myself camping out on the ground under the sky. And I realized with an odd fascination why they would believe such a thing. The stars -oh if only words could give them justice- They spattered the sky like nothing I've ever seen in any other region of Istori. Kios's stars were the best I've ever seen, and still are to this day. Those stars will never leave my mind.
But, sadly, I do not remember anything else of that morning.
My memory fails me now, but I know (I just know) something in that forest clouded my memory. My recollection of that trek is faint, but I do remember the villagers leading me towards the forest's pimpled hairline. The trees towered over us, and the grass swayed up higher than the eldest child, who was only thirteen. There were even weeds that were two hands taller than a man himself!
But I was undaunted; that morning in the dewy light I took my first steps into the Forest of Kios and looked behind me. But the Villagers- they only watched, doe eyed.
Not one of them would've stepped into that Forest, and if I had the wisdom that I had now, I don't think I would've done so either unless I had the Queen's men growling at my back. But instead I thought them foolish, giving them a stained grin I took a step forward into the wood. Turning my head back though; I found they were already gone.
...
A journey that I had anticipated to be only a day's walk, turned into three days and three nights. By the fall of the third, I had realized what a fool I was; to trek into the woods alone? I should've brought string and wound it around the trees like the hero in King Midas's maze. Thirst bit at the back of my throat, and my legs buckled under me like a broken stallion's. I lifted my hands to the gods and let out a short prayer before I heard the voice, crisp as a green bough that I once could've snapped between my fingers.
"Why do you pray to the gods when you can talk to one directly?"
My blood froze in my veins and my fluttering hands fell still, still standing, but dead as my brain at that second. I didn't lift my eyes up to see the owner of this voice, but instead kept them aimed towards the ground, watching the ants trek across the floor, but waver. "I pray to them because I didn't know a god did roam these woods."
There was a chuckle, "Well you've found your god, rise."
Only then I raised my eyes, and only then found the white fawn. My mouth grew dry and I pulled a leathery tongue across my lips. "Oh gods, oh gods you're real. The White Fawn-"
"Ceveo." It lifted its head, but its mouth did not move. Its eyes- red as a dying stars that I had gazed upon, kept mine in its stare. I know it was rude to look upon it so long, but I found I could no longer turn my head. "Very few try to find the Fawn," its head bowed, the buds of antlers covered with felt white as snow rose from its skull. "And fewer find thou, what has made you so determined to greet me?" My words failed me, at that moment I stared at the albino fawn slack mouthed, my fingers still pivoted towards the sky, and my knees still buried firmly into the dirt. But the roe just smiled in a doe-ish way and shook his tail, the spots lining his spine dancing like fireflies. "If you cannot answer me, at least, tell me who I address?"
I dropped onto all fours and pressed my forehead into the dirt- rites usually a priest would do when talking in a temple of a god, and this I believed, was the temple. "My name, oh yes, my name... They call me Ryan of Glenn, the wanderer of Istori, the first to journey from North to South in a single year and return to the Queen alive, the map maker-"
There was a sharp laugh, and if it wasn't so clear in my mind today I would've passed it off as a hallucination. The Fawn spoke, his words swift and livid and green, "I only asked for your name, Ryan. Titles mean nothing here in the forest, and names only matter to mortal beings."
I pressed my head deeper into the dirt, the earthy smell winding its way up my nostrils. "Yes- Yes sir." With my head bowed I thanked the gods that the Fawn couldn't see my face, surely it was as red as his eyes.
"Now, Ryan of the Glenn, Explorer for the Queen, and Map Maker of so called 'Istori'," I sensed the mocking tone in its voice but brushed it off, this was a god! Could gods even mock? "Why are you here? Tell me, and swiftly, for the light is running red in the sky and Xerxes in his immortal form approaches."
My voice -my cause- found itself. "My wife," I raised my head and I saw the Fawn's ears fly back to his skull, the flash of anger as quick as my tongue. "My wife, she is with child. We have been unlucky with the dealing of fate; I've come to ask for your token."
The deer stood still, and the forest stood still with it. No birds made a sound as it thought, gently tipping it's head to the side it slowly answered, lips unmoving, "That is much to ask for, Ryan of the Glenn." It shook its head slowly, and I heard the pass of air through a mouth, but there was no mouth for air to pass through but my own. "But, I will help your wife and child if you do me a favor."
I brought myself back to earth and masked my head in the dirt. The forest's song started again once more. "Anything, anything for my wife and unborn child."
The bird's songs grew higher still.
"Anything?" The purr in his throat was unnoted by my ears until now, and then I was only swimming in the tide of relief that washed over me, knowing I had broken the dam.
"Anything." I answered.
"Bring me the pelt of Xerxes, the night sky himself. He who hunts down my children, and brings death and dark to your land. "
I rubbed my forehead into the soil, "Yes, my God, I will do as you ask."
"Good," The smile in its voice was evident. "I give you three things to help you with your journey." It paused, and I heard the drop of leather onto the ground, but from where that leather came from, I still do not know. "Buckskin shoes for your speedy travel, tea leaves to drug the Night's water, and a knife made of my own antler from the past spring to skin him with. Use each wisely, for you can only use them once." The fawn's voice dropped, "You'll find Xerxes of the Night wandering the plains of what you call the 'Temporis' that you, 'Map Maker' know so well. If you do not bring me the pelt of the Night Sky, I'm afraid your wife will remain unfertile."
I nodded, tasting the gravel rub against my teeth. "Yes, yes, thank you, for you are a most gracious god." I whispered into the earth.
And then he was gone.
...
A knife, shoes, and leaves. If I was an atheist, I would've walked away then. The knife's blade was dull, the soles worn, and the leaves withered. But I knew what I had to do. My thirst forgotten, and with my stomach acid rising in my throat I sat up, opening the bag, and stared at the first thing laying on the top- the moccasins.
They were too small, but their power was so great that it caused my fingers to quake. "I can only use you once," I muttered under my breath as I rose to my feet. "Then let's make this worth it." I took only one shoe and laced it onto my foot, taking the other I put it into my pocket along with the dull knife and dry leaves, leaving the leather bag where the fawn had dropped it. I always found that unnecessary weight will only slow down your journey.
And so I began to run.
To this day I do not know if it is my imagination that made me believe those shoes really worked, or it was really the power of the White Fawn himself. But I do not remember exiting the forest- I ran, but I did not stop. To stop would mean the magic (If there was magic at all) would end. With one shoe on one foot ran until the other was bloody and the bone of my toes showed raw and pink. But I did not stop, I couldn't- it was much too late to stop. To stop that would mean the power of my one shoe would expire and I would have to walk in pain to the plains of Xerxes, or use its twin to reach it.
But it didn't matter, for soon I was upon the Plains and I heard the crash of lightening in the blue dawn and I knew that the White Fawn had came back from his chase and realized what I had done- that I had outwitted a god with just a single shoe, and that he was angered by this.
By the time the sun was so high in the sky that no shadow dared to set its foot on the ground I took off the shoe in its heat and laid my head onto the sand. The sun baked my skin and the dull blade of the knife pressed against the flesh of my stomach but I didn't care, my foot hurt so badly that I could no longer move and the bitter acid of my stomach hurtled itself out through my teeth and onto the ground, reminding me of my hunger and thirst with one bitter swirl.
And then a shadow covered me in the place where no shadows dared to walk, "Fool; you're half dead." A large and noble head bowed down and gripped me by the cloth of my shirt, "Come with me if you want to continue to breathe this earth's sweet air, and drink its icy water."
I did not speak, but simply nodded as tired as I was, and the shadow picked me up by my cloth robe with ease and slid me onto the back of what I believed to be a horse or ass. "Your name, foolish adventurer? Or shall I keep calling you that?" It laughed, and its voice rang out in the dessert heat, rich like melting butter in the sun that was torturing me so.
"My name," I chuckled, "My name is Ryan of Glenn. I'm a mapmaker for the Queen."
"The Queen of Gray?" It snorted, its disgust dribbling over me like my own sweat, "I never liked her, too much control over the children of Istori, why, I ask, do you make maps for her when you can make them for someone so much better?"
I laughed; the fur of the animal catching in my throat. "And who would be better than the Queen herself? She is the richest, and noblest of them all. Divinely appointed, she is, the gold that passes through her hands is tripled in value than that of a normal nugget."
The man paused, and abruptly laughed aloud. "Why it's simple! Me! I will never leave these plains, but there is surely something more out there than this dreaded sand! And trust me, Ryan of Glenn, that mad woman is divinely appointed by the fiery depths itself- not heaven, heaven wouldn't let her be a league near its pearly gates."
I looked up with a half smile, "I believe that's treason, dear sir-"
"Treason?" The head of the lion turned, "Oh, it's treason that she rules. If it was up to me, she would already be joining the night sky by now." He winked, and threw his head back to lease out another rich laugh, the sides of his velvety nose heaving.
My words were caught in my throat, and I felt my stomach give another lurch. I almost decided to turn my head and empty my already emptied stomach. But I held my gut together and the lion gave a chuckle, "About time you've opened your eyes. Very few that I find do, you know. Usually by the time I've reached them they're dead, but that shoe of yours." He eyed it, a low growl rising up into his throat. "It saved your life, it did."
"Yes," I bowed my head. "It saved my life, and so did you, Xerxes of the Night-"
"Hush, I'm just doing my 'divinely appointed' duty, as you call it." I heard the harsh chuckle; it was the base for the sound of crushed glass- there was nothing like it. "But it's nice to get a live one now and then, the bodies, they creep you out a bit y'know."
I swallowed, "You, a god- a gravedigger?" My wobbly smile though fell false, and the mighty lion turned his head.
"We all have our sins," The laughter rang out again but the solemn mood did not lift, "We'll just say this is my penance for breaking the law." He let out a huff, and I watched smoke come from his jaw, I found he was a mightier dragon than those on the coast of Misleton. "Well, that's enough of that. Can't stand the sadness of it, but 'cycle of life' y'know- without it I'll be starving and depending on welfare." He laughed, then flicking an eye back to me he sighed, "Eh, that might be a little before your time..."
I only nodded.
He shook his mane, shaggy ears flopping to the sides like a dog and he continued to walk with me clinging to his mane like a boy to its mother. In the horizon the sun glanced off the sand and blinded my eyes so that I had to blink fiercely to keep my eyes from watering so that it looked as if I was weeping.
And then, I was there. I still to this day doubt it was a trick of the mind (like how I all things that had happened in this one journey, and I still have many tales to tell!) but suddenly I was there. Xerxes bowed, his broad back matted with my own sweat and warmth with both the sun and his body heat that in a way was like the sun itself. He laughed, shaking his mane once more, and the edges of his eyes and brow crinkled with the humor of it. "You're something, Ryan of Glenn; I've never seen a living mortal react like you when they pass the barrier."
It took me a few short moments to comprehend what he was saying- I wasn't praying, just staring with my lips slightly parted, like I was with the fawn. Quickly I fell to my knees and started to pray, summoning my apologies, "I'm sorry almighty Xerxes-"
"Nothing to be sorry about," He snorted, the sound of his heavy paws faded. "It's refreshing; I never really liked the ones that followed me obediently. They're like dogs." I heard his paws come to a stop, "And I've always hated dogs, but that just might be a cat thing."
I stopped myself from laughing at the irony of his words and nodded, head still bowed to the ground. "Of course, sir."
He snorted, "Your words are simple but they please me still, you are amusing, Ryan of Glenn. If only I could keep you longer, but alas, the day is old and my more tear-jerking work begins at dusk. But good news, the hunt for the buck will begin soon- and then I may prowl the sky without worry. But you, Ryan, must stay here." I raised my head and watched him wink, his eyes the shade of gold of a new-born star, glinted at me like a newly minted penny.
And then he was gone.
...
As soon as the night fell and I saw the constellation of Xerxes move across the sky, I felt the weight of the deeds that lay ahead rest heavily on my shoulders.
I was to kill a god!
And not any god, but the kindest and most noble of the stars, the Night himself. Underneath my clothes the dull edge of the knife bites at my skin, and remind me of my duty.
I sat up, the night silent as I reached under my clothes and pulled out the leaves. Near here there was a puddle, in the soft desert grass my feet didn't make a sound as I slipped across the soil and threw my handful into the water. Watching it foam, remembering my thirst, and kneeling I sipped from it. I didn't even think of the Fawn's warning that I could only use it once.
And with that, sleep fell upon me.
...
The sun was startling and I felt my failure strike me with a hammer as I stared down the copper eyes of Xerxes, his black pelt absorbing the sun more like the night sky than any fur I've seen in the pelt trades.
He was disappointed.
"You tried to drug me, Ryan of Glenn." His voice rumbled and I felt the shame with those words topple onto my chest. "Oh, friend of mine, what led you to such things?"
"The White Fawn," I closed my eyes, baring my neck. "I did it for the White Fawn, for my wife and unborn child. It's been years, and we are still without a son. The White Fawn has promised me that if I bring your pelt to him, he will make us fertile."
The great lion sighed, and turned his head. "I cannot offer that, for I am unlucky and only offer death." His eyes turned and shown on me, "I am sorry; Ryan of Glenn, but I can offer you something." He bowed, "Take my fur, noble Map Maker for the cursed Queen of Gray. Your sons will be the noblest of kings, and your daughters the most beautiful of Queens, but that is only if you take my pelt, friend."
I was dumbfounded, my words once again tied in knots but I somehow found the courage to speak, "Why? You have everything, power that immense should not be wasted on the wiles of one man. My actions were selfish, and I should head back to the capital, to my wife, and give up these foolish dreams."
He raised his head, "Because I want to die, Ryan. I want to die. This life is lonely; you were a blessing to me."
"Even if I bring a curse?"
He laughed, "There's always a silver lining, it's best to look at the goblet half full with wine."
He lay down on his side and bore his stomach, his rib cage rising and falling, the fur rippling in the brilliant sun. His eyes pleading. "Make it swift, Map Maker. I will come back; this is only a mortal body, my true form belongs to the sky. You will only be freeing me."
I swallowed; my tongue thick with thirst and fear. "I'm sorry... Friend." And with my left hand I pulled out the dull knife that in the sun looked sharp as a sword.
And then I slashed.
...
The knife slick with blood cut my palm, but in the end, the lion had little blood to give. What blood he did bleed ran into his pond and turned its water red, the plants around it sizzled and died. Their screams still haunt me at night, along with the sting of the long healed scar on my left hand.
But in the end, the pelt was laid out in the sun. Raggedly cut, but its fur reflected back the sky without flaw. It was a mirror, and in that mirror I could see the bloody face of a man I could no longer recognize.
I straddled the pelt to my back, pulling on the other shoe to my injured foot I began to run. My senses never returned fully until I left that cursed desert where the sky shone too blue, too bright.
In the village of Kios the Fall Festival had started, may-poles were being erected from the ground and long streamers black and white were being tied to their tips. Only I, the murderer, knew the truth that the buck would not die this season.
But I ignored this, and without the elder of the village, without guidance or prayer, I stepped into the forest covered in divine blood.
This time it did not take three days and three nights for the White Fawn to approach.
And this time I did not bow.
His arrival was not announced by song birds, but rather the whispers of the branches. His head was lifted high; a full rack of antler crowned his scalp unlike our last meeting when he had only buds, and his expression was one of pleasure. "You did it." He did not take offense to my stance, but instead tipped his head my direction; on a rung of his bony horns, hung two pendants, black coral, and carnelian. "Take these, and by the end of the year you'll not only have one healthy child, but two."
I reached underneath my clothes and pulled out the fur, "And what about Xerxes?"
The Fawn now Stag smiled in its doe-ish way. "I'll take care of him, give the pelt to me."
I opened my palm, but he did not move forward. "Hang it on my horns." He tipped his head forward; the rings of bone touched the ground and moved the fallen leaves.
I did as he asked, and as I did so, he reared back onto his hind legs and roared, "Now go."
"The pendants-"
But he did not wait. The flash of his white tail disappeared through the trees, and in my frustration, I gave chase. But my feet, now both hurt from the journey both to and back, failed, and my knees knocked together as I fell. The Stag's laughter rang out into the forest while I laid there.
I waited; I waited for who knows how long for night to come. Listening to the laughter of the mystical Fawn-now-Stag mock my distress.
But night never came, and it would never come again.
So now I write this, a record for the queen, of why our world stopped.
Why our sun will never fade.
And how it was all one selfish man's fault.
Gods rest my soul.
