Cosmogyral (adj)
whirling around the universe
On the night she was born, the stars sang.
The townsfolk weren’t exactly thrilled by the singing. After all, most of them were timber cutters trying to get some sleep. The horses that pulled the cut logs weren’t happy either- they knew they had a long day tomorrow, and they wanted sleep as much as the humans did.
But despite the grouchy townsfolk below, the stars sang on, and soon the wails of a newborn babe joined in their music.
“She’s a fighter, she is,” the midwife declared as she delivered the wailing child into the waiting arms of its mother. “Thought we’d be having a funeral tomorrow, but she’s a fighter.”
The mother, weary after hours of labor, gave the midwife a weak smile as she accepted the child. The father had long since disappeared- traveled to the city to seek his fortune- leaving the mother to raise their child on her own. Most of the town thought it was better that way anyhow, though- Kyf Nordham was an angry drunk.
As the midwife packed her things, the star-song got louder, as though trying to rival the baby’s cries. The mother began rocking the babe, humming, trying to calm her.
“What’s her name, then?” The midwife asked, pausing in the door as the star-song grew louder.
And as the baby quieted and the mother listened to the stars, she smiled and gazed at her newborns small face, green eyes wide and nose scrunched up.
“Her name is Aja.”
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The mountain was spouting poetry. Again.
I’d given up trying to tell people. They all told me I was crazy- “the stars may sing for you, Aja,” they’d say, “but the mountains do not speak and the trees do not laugh.”
My mother was gentler with me, but I knew she didn’t believe me either. When I went to tell her the mountain was speaking again, she looked up from the shirt she was mending and brushed a hair behind her ear, sighing. “I’m sure it is, but even when mountains speak there’s mending to be done.”
So I sat and helped her mend our neighbors clothes while the mountain struggled to find a word that rhymed with sky.
‘Fly, you dunce. Fly rhymes with sky and you’re talking about birds! It isn’t hard!’ I wished I could scream up at the mountain. But mother needed help and I didn’t want the town to find me stranger than they already did, so I didn’t
After three shirts and two pants my feet were twitching and my glances towards the door were more frequent. I needed to run. To have the wind fill my ears instead of terrible poetry that hardly even rhymed anymore.
Of course, mother noticed. She always did. Taking the pants I’d just finished she laughed, though it was laced with sadness.
“Out with you then, Aja. Go chase the wind.”
“Thanks, Ma,” I said, leaping from my chair and nearly tumbling it backwards in my hurry. “I’ll be back to help with supper.”
“Mhm,” was the reply, my mother already focused on her mending again. I don’t know how she did it. I could never sit for long, especially not closed inside walls.
Letting the door thunk shut behind me, I breathed in the pine scent drifting from where the cutters were trimming trees, preparing them to be brought to the mill, and, later, to the city.
“Trees and bees dance with the... with the... fleas?” The mountain hummed, a rumble causing rocks to clatter down his slope.
Ignoring his struggle, I dug my toes into the dirt and ran.
The town passed by in a blur, chickens scattering in front of me as I burst into the woods and wound my way under and through the trees, ducking limbs and leaping fallen trunks. While I was clumsy at most things I tried, I’d always been able to run. My mother said it was because I was trying to chase down my destiny. I figured it was because I was good at running.
I followed the path I’d worn into the forest floor, heading deeper into the trees, until the branches of the pines blocked out nearly all the light of the sun. At the base of a rock that stood twice as tall as I did I paused, steadying my breathing as I looked around. The mountain’s poetry had grown faint, a whisper that was easy to ignore. Replacing it was the sounds of the woods- birds crying out to each other and squirrels chirping that they’d seen me. The trees had started humming to one another, too quiet for me to hear what they were actually saying.
My heart slowed down to normal, I climbed the rock- Old Tuk, as I liked to call him. Sometimes when I sat and closed my eyes, he’d rumble things to me- nonsense things that only rocks understood.
Tucking my feet under my legs I sat, giving the area around me one last look before I closed my eyes. It didn’t take long for Old Tuk to start grumbling at me- he was chattier than usual.
‘Moss.’ He grumbled. ‘Moss and dripping and wet. Earth laughing at me- worms laugh and giggle. Starshine? Starshining here.’
Starshine was something that had only started coming up in his vocabulary recently. Sometimes I thought it might be what he called me, though I didn’t know why.
‘Singing dancing mushrooms in the moonlight. Rabbits? No, deer. Deer and Name-Takers and- trouble. Uh oh. Trouble talks in riddles. Starshine careful of riddles.’
With that Old Tuk went silent, and I twitched, an uncomfortable itch crawling down my skin as though something was watching me.
I opened my eyes to see a grinning face staring up at me.
The man- or creature- was a few feet away from Old Tuk. He had pale skin and pale hair- everything about him was pale. But the thing that made me wary was his eyes- they were yellow and slitted, like a cats. And I swore his teeth had points.
“Hail, fair stranger,” I said, choosing my words carefully. I had no doubt that whatever this creature was, he was not mortal.
“Hail to you, Star Child. I am Aoife, Walker of the Woods. Shall you give me your name?”
I saw his grin, sly across his face like a dagger. There was no doubt in my mind now- this was a fae, a creature the tree cutters respected but feared.
“You may call me Ainsel,” I replied, and felt relief as the fae’s grin dropped, and he sighed instead.
“Then that I shall call you, Star Child. Your mind is sharp, for one so young.”
I’m nearly eighteen, I thought, but thankfully didn’t say out loud. No doubt to the fae, eighteen was barely a toddler.
“May I inquire as to why you came to greet me?” I said, keeping my tone polite. The fae was still keeping a distance from the boulder, his clothes seeming to shimmer in the ribbons of sunlight.
He looked at the rock and laughed, a grating sound that made me clench my jaw. “Ah, the rocks have names and the trees have names, and the Star Child has listened, hasn’t she? You amuse me, Star Child, and if you weren’t atop Tuk I might take you as a wife and let you continue to keep me amused.”
I shivered at the thought. I’d have to thank the wood cutters when I returned, for warning me about fae.
“Alas, Tuk won’t allow me you as a wife. And I suppose the stars would protest as well, so allow me to share with you what the stars cannot tell you, Star Child.”
“You talk to the trees and you listen to the wind, but you have yet to sing to the stars. They sang to you when you were born, and wait to hear you return their song, but hidden here among the trees their complaints cannot reach you. However, I’ve been up the mountain and into the sky, and they bid me bring you a message- at a price, of course- so a message I bring.”
“Leave the trees and touch the sky, and sing into the night. You are more than what you think, Star Child, but you have yet to discover your destiny.”
The grin returned to his face and he held out a hand toward me. “Now, Star Child, the price of the message is a memory- one of your choosing. You may pay and return to reach your destiny, or refuse and become a permanent part of Tuk- the decision is yours.”
A memory? I was inclined to refuse, but I also didn’t doubt what the fae said was true- it seemed the only thing keeping me from being whisked away by him was Old Tuk.
Well. A memory, then. I thought back on what I’d done the past few days, and finally settled on a memory I thought I wouldn’t mind losing.
“I choose to pay with a memory. I give to you, Aoife, Walker of the Woods, my memory of when I wrung the chickens neck for supper two nights ago. I give you from the moment my mother sent me to do it to the moment I returned with the bird, a mere six minutes, and no more nor no less. Accept my payment and agree to leave me to return home and reach my destiny.”
The fae shrugged, then nodded. “I accept your payment, Star Child, and agree your debt is payed and to the terms you have set. Tuk, the deal is struck, allow me what I am due.”
Whatever Old Tuk had been doing to protect me, he must have stopped, since the fae lightly leapt up next to me and placed his finger on my forehead. A cold shock went through me, and the next thing I knew he was gone, and I couldn’t recall what memory I had given.
I took a deep breath and stood up, climbing down Old Tuk. “Thank you,” I whispered, and Old Tuk rumbled at me as I turned and dug my toes into the dirt, beginning my return through the forest and leaving the boulder behind.
Well. I had to reach my destiny, then, I supposed. I still didn’t know what half of the fae had said meant, but if reaching my destiny meant climbing the mountain and touching the sky, then I may as well do it.
The sun was setting behind me, the last shadows cackling as I raced past them, bursting back into the village with a whisper of a laugh chasing me from the woods. I wove around wood cutters returning home from work and waved to the ones I knew well, reaching my house and catching my breath before I entered and greeted my mother.
“I’m nearly eighteen,” I said, deciding it was best to jump right in to the discussion that needed to be had.
“Nearly eighteen and not yet wed,” my mother replied. That was a rather sore subject- the village boys thought me too strange to be even a friend, and I was fine with that.
“Yes, I know- but Ma, I’m nearly eighteen, and I think it’s time I find my destiny.”
She set down her mending and looked at me, sighing. “Aja, destiny isn’t something you find. It’s something that finds you.”
“But maybe not, Ma. Maybe I’ve got to chase it down. It hasn’t found me yet, and I’m growing tired of waiting. I want to climb the mountain and try and find my destiny in the sky.”
At that, she gave me a sharp look, and I knew I’d finally reached the point where she might call me crazy. “That’s silly talk, Aja. Your destiny isn’t in the sky. It’s here, mending and cooking, and settling down to raise some grandbabies for me. Your destiny isn’t in the sky, and it’s not in the city, nor anywhere else but here.”
“But, Ma, I was told-”
“I don’t care who told you what.” I’d never had my mother use that voice with me. “Your destiny will find you here, and you will not go chasing it through the wilderness. That’s final.”
I bit my lip and shrugged, pretending I didn’t care. It seemed my mother wasn’t going to give me her blessing- no matter, I’d find my destiny anyways. I felt a tug, now, an itch to follow the fae’s message and chase down my destiny. I wasn’t going to let my mother keep me from it.
“As you say, then, Ma,” I said, bringing out a pot to begin the stew we’d eat for supper. She returned to her mending, lips tight, though I knew later she’d apologize for growing angry. She always did.
As I chopped the potatoes to throw in the pot, I found my gaze wandering to the window and the mountain beyond.
Soon, I thought. I’ll come find my destiny atop you soon.
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To be continued....
