Tag: AdvenTale

Nani swore when she realised what ailed her grandson. She should have seen it sooner.
“Where is your shadow?” she asked.

He had given it to a mysterious, beautiful girl he met at the Midsummer dance.
“Did she pay?” Nani asked.
“With a kiss.”

“You fool,” Nani shook her head. “Your shadow is your anchor in this world.”
No wonder the lad was growing vague and wan.

He had missed one chance of reclaiming it, at the autumn equinox. And now he was too far gone.
She sighed. “I’ll get it.”

The gates never quite close, but at the four balance points of the year they open widest.
So. She had until dawn tomorrow.

Nani packed a satchel, put on skis, and set off. The only gate she knew of was a mile away. She hoped it was the right one.

The gate was at a waterfall, a step out from the edge. Nani leaned her skis against a tree and saw a black cat watching her.

She looked at the stepping stones along the edge, the spray of icy cold water around them.
“Want a ride?” she asked the cat.

Cats, of course, go to any realm they please, but icy water is icy water. Nani held still as the cat jumped to her shoulder.

She stepped carefully along the edge to the middle of the waterfall. The cat jumped off her and was gone. Nani followed it.

She stepped into a spring meadow and halted. The cat jumped down and ran off, without looking back.
“Welcome to the Court.”

A beautiful person stood smiling by the gate. Nani bowed.
“I seek a shadow.”
She saw no shadows when she looked down

“Here?” The person laughed. “Let’s go ask the king. May I have your name?”
Nani knew that trick.
“You can call me… Nina.”

Everyone Nani saw was beautiful and wearing bright, colourful clothes. None of them, however, outshone the king. He smiled.

“Do you see shadows here?” the king said.
Nani squinted and looked around. There was a dark patch by- no, that was the cat.

“Nevertheless.” She opened her satchel. “I offer you this bread I baked.”
“Would you offer your youth?” the king countered.

“I have none,” Nani said. It stung. “I offer you these mittens I knitted.”
“Would you offer your beauty?” the king smiled.

“I have none,” Nani said. “I offer this stone with a hole in it, which reveals illusions.”
She held it up in front of her.

“Rude!” the court shouted.
Nani quickly put the stone back in her bag. Her look through it had only shown beautiful people.

“I am sorry,” she said.
The king frowned. “Nina, Nina,” he said.
Nani felt her name being pulled, but it stayed with her.

“No youth, no beauty? Then your health, wealth and titles,” the king said.
Nani stood as straight she could. “I have none.”

“I have no more to offer,” Nani said, “so I’ll go, taking nothing of your court, leaving nothing I have brought.”
“So go.”

As the king said those words, the black cat froze in place. Nani hurried there and lifted it by the scruff of the neck.

She shook the cat, and a woman fell out, leaving a shadow skin in Nani’s hand.
“I think you owe me a kiss,” the woman said.

Nani hesitated, then shook her head. “No. I gave you a ride.”
She turned, left the court, and headed home to her grandson.

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This story was serialised in 25 daily tweets from MicroSFF, December 1st to 25th, 2019, tagged with #AdvenTale.

Orum weighed the lump of star metal in his hand.
“It can’t be smelted,” his father said. “The forge isn’t hot enough.”

“When my dad gave that to me, he said it should remind me any skill has limits,” the old smith said.
“We’ll see,” said Orum.

The next day, Orum packed tools and supplies in a sled, picked a spear, strapped on his skis, and headed for the mountains.

Years ago, men came through the village, showing gold taken from a dragon. They had snuck in and out, as the dragon slept.

Buri took his wet boots off, climbed up on the stool by the fire, and hung them up to dry on the smoke rack.
“I hate this.”

“It will be better when snow comes,” his mother said. “Dryer and brighter, and the cold bites less.”
“Soon,” Buri nodded.

But no snow came. Every day Paws, the old cat, looked out the door at the grey and rain, and gave Buri a disapproving stare.

Then one night, Buri woke up with the cat sitting on his chest.
“Get dressed,” Paws hissed.
“Wha- why?”
“To find Winter.”

The fire had died when Unn woke; even the embers were gone. She found the flint and steel on the shelf and lit an oil lamp.

There was a patch of ice by the hearth, and hairy frost around the door. Unn sighed, put her coat on, and built a new fire.

“Not dead yet?” a voice called from the smoke-hole in the thatch.
Unn looked up, but only saw the dark sky.
“Who’s there?”

There was a rustle from above, then silence. Unn woke her father, who went out to check.
“Nobody, no footprints, nothing.”

The Mountain King ruled the lands around his lonely mountain, everywhere his goblins and trolls could reach in darkness.

At times, Gry and the other children would look south to the mountain, scare each other with gruesome tales, and giggle.

The village was safe. The slow trolls could not reach it, not even in the longest night. But one day, Gry noticed something.

At noon, when the winter sun hung low over the mountain, the shadow cast on the plain seemed to reach closer than before.

Moa woke to mooing. She wrapped her blanket around her like a shawl, put her feet in her clogs, and went to milk the cows.

Life moves slowly in winter. Moa took the milk to the cold cellar and returned to bed, to wait for sunrise. It didn’t come.

The sky above the smoke hole in the thatch remained dark. Moa’s family would not wake from their sleep, despite her crying.

Moa dried her tears. Then she hung the lamp from the door on the billygoat’s horn, filled his panniers, and lead him east.

They made good progress through the snow. Soon they came to the bridge over the river.
“Hello,” Moa called. “Master Troll?”

The troll climbed up.
“Where’s the sun?” he said. “I can’t sleep in darkness.”
“I’ll find out,” Moa said. “Will you help?”

They say that in the heart of the forest, there’s winter in the middle of summer. Tam went to see if the opposite was true.

He challenged the forest. His mighty sword vanquished his foes. A boy and his stick, leaving frosty nettles broken behind.

“Where to, soldier boy?” a magpie laughed.
Tam bowed. “To summer, sir.”
“Then march on, and get your warmth from the Queen.”

“Why the hurry?” a squirrel asked.
“I go to the Queen,” Tam said.
“Have a care, she’ll heed your words, not what you say.”

In the heart of the forest, Tam stepped off snow onto lush green moss. Leaving winter behind, he shivered, then marched on.