The Year of Return

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. For decades on end, few creatures but for those seeking the safety of isolation would attempt to live there, gouged as it was deep into the flesh of the world like a jagged wound. Its sheer cliff walls held the land between in shadow and snow, away from the life-light of the Great Father.

Grandmother Iri told stories of how the Valley was the birthplace of dragons many ages ago, back when the Great Father was young and luminous, and long before people walked the yellow northern plains. The world was fertile then, bathed in an abundance of light and life, and the Valley birthed many strange creatures that have all but been lost to myth. Over time, the Great Father grew old and red and fat and could no longer lift himself into the sky as high nor as often as in his youth. Life slowly left the Valley, but for a single year in a generation—the Year of Return.

During this time, the Great Father would make his way high enough into the sky so that his light once again bathed the Valley in warmth. The snow and the ice would melt and a small river would scratch its way down off the face of the cloud-tipped southern mountains. Plants that had slept for decades would burst forth into an unimaginable array of colors. Creatures from all across the plains would make their way to the Valley to partake of its brief abundance. And, for a time, the dragons would return as well.

At least, those were the stories that Grandmother Iri would tell. She had been alive during the last Return and, though only a very small girl at the time, her parents had taken her on the pilgrimage to see the Valley and dragons. Kwayi had grown up on those stories, committing many of them to memory and looking forward to the day when she too would be able to see the dragons with her own eyes.

And now, the Year of Return had arrived. Mountain winds blew north for miles across the plains, dancing with the sparse prairie grasses and reaching all the way to the village where the Plainsfolk lived. Kwayi’s straight dark hair fluttered over her shoulder and into her face. The wind on her skin felt unusually warm. That was to be expected, as the Great Father climbed higher into the sky. They were only a few months into the year.

Kwayi tossed her head to the side to let her hair flow back away from her face, then with a tug, she tightened the straps on her horse's saddle.

Grandmother Iri approached, holding a small, grass-wrapped package in her hands. She smiled up at Kwayi and wrinkles hugged the edges of her face.

“You look just like your mother did,” she said. “If only she was still here to go with you to the Valley. She would have loved it there.”

The old woman stapped forward and wrapped her arms around Kwayi. After a moment, she stepped back and wiped a hand across her eyes. Then, as though remembering she had it, she held out the package for Kwayi to take. “Here, I’ve wrapped up some of the dried pinkfuit I made last season. I know how much you like it.”

“Thank you, Grandmother,” Kwayi said. “I wish you could come with me.”

“Oh, me too. How I would love to see it again. All those flowers, and the dragons all putting on their displays of affection for each other. Such colors…” Then she waved her hand in front of her face as though brushing away an annoying bug. “But never mind. This is your time. Now is the time for the young to witness the Return.”

“I’m going to bring back a trophy. You’ll see. Maybe I’ll even find a dragon stone. We’d never have to worry about the crops again.”

Iri smiled at her again. “Just make sure you come back safe. Glory is all well and good. I can’t say I didn’t have dreams of bringing back a bit of the dragon’s magic with me too. But, we need you to come back to pass on the stories like I’ve taught you. So, be careful.”

Kwayi took the admonishment in stride. The old woman had raised her and suffered through Kwayi’s adventurous spirit, and all the scrapes and bruises and broken bones the girl had accumulated from her inability to avoid trouble. So she gave her word that she would avoid danger, and packed away the fruits, then climbed onto her horse.

Around her, the others had all finished packing as well. Cass sat atop his horse, looking around at everyone else. His bald head shone in the morning light, and when he saw Kwayi looking his way he gave her an annoyed look. She could practically hear his disapproving grunt.

“Alright, everyone, let's get going before the day’s done,” Cass shouted. Anyone still standing said their goodbyes and got atop their horses, and one by one the group of a dozen people atop a dozen horses filed out from between the series of small, squat buildings that made up their village.

The group traveled south across the plains. Mountains lined the horizon ahead of them like jagged teeth, while in every other direction, the sky and land were neatly bisected by a flat horizon. Kwayi closed her eyes and felt the rhythm of the mount beneath her, the wind that now brushed against her face.

When Kwayi was a child, on particularly windy nights, she would wake in fright. She’d shake Grandmother Iri awake and tell her she could hear voices in the wind, whispering to her. Iri would tell her that it was the song of the Valley. As the wind blew down the face of the mountains and across the jagged cliffs of the Valley, it would produce a slow, timorous moan. She said it was a lamentation, longing for the abundance of the past.

“Kwayi! Stop daydreaming.”

Kwayi looked around and realized that she must have dozed off in the saddle. Cass was next to her. He gave her another annoyed glare.

“Rider coming in from the west. Can you make him out? My eyes aren’t what they used to be.”

“You’re getting old Cass,” Kwayi teased. She looked in the direction he pointed, and there did indeed seem to be someone riding in their direction.

“Well, the light’s nearly gone and this is a good as any place to have supper and bed down. We may as well setup camp while we wait for whoever it is to get here.”

Cass called out to the rest of the group and everyone dismounted and began rolling out bedrolls and getting a fire going.

As the figure rode closer, Kwayi could see that the person looked larger than anyone she’d seen. Although it was clearly human, it did not look like a Plainswalker. His hair was a bright silvery color that only covered a strip along the very top of his head. He had prominent brows that jutted out over his eyes. And on one side of his head was what appeared to be some sort of pale while growth that seemed to have the texture of moss.

When the figure had gotten close enough for everyone in the camp to see him, he held up his arms to show he had no weapons. Then, slowly, he placed on hand on his chest and bowed his head slightly.

"We greet you as one," the person said. "This vessel is named Sukal. May I share in your camp?"

Instead of returning the gesture, Cass crossed his arms. "What does a Listener want with us? We're on pilgrimage. It is the Year of Return, and sacred to us."

The Listener gave a short nod. "That is why I am here."

A Listener? Kwayi’s mouth hung open. She had heard stories about them but had never met one. Everyone in the village had only ever spoken of Listeners in hushed tones, as though fearful one would appear just upon hearing them mentioned. Grandmother Iri, though, had met one when she was younger and held them in reverence.

Cass grunted. "Well, you're welcome to share our fire, but our food is our own."

"Of course. The Mother will provide for us."

Cass sighed and jerked his head to the side, indicating for the man to join them.

* * *

After the sun had set, the group around a small bonfire. The twin moons were hidden tonight by clouds, and so there was near-total darkness outside of the small dome of light their fire created. Draba had pulled out an instrument and was plucking the notes to a song that he seemed to be making up as he went.

Cass leaned over the fire, stirring his wooden spoon through the contents of a pot and smelling the aromas that drifted out of it. The only time Cass ever seemed to smile was when he was eating, or about to eat.

Next to Kwayi, the Listener sat still on the ground as if in a trance. After some moments, a small, furry gren came creeping in out of the dark and climbed onto Sukal's lap. It stood up on its hind legs, bushy tail stuck out behind it for balance, and stared at the Listener. For a long moment, the Listener just stared back at the small creature.

Then with a swift motion, Sukal reached forward and snapped the creature's neck. From inside their robes, they produced a small knife and began to skin the creature.

“I thought your kind only ate plants,” Kwayi said.

"Mm. That is a common belief. I do prefer plants. But this creature had agreed to let me consume him."

"He agreed to let you eat him..." Kwayi said. "Why?"

"The creature was old and would not have survived another week. He had a large family and was content."

"That seems even worse, if it had a family. He just let you kill him like that?"

Sukal nodded. "I made sure it was painless. This is the way of things.” They gestured down at themselves. “When this vessel dies, it will return to the Mother, so that it may be consumed so that other life may flourish."

Cass finished noisily slurping down his stew and tossed the wooden bowl onto the ground.

"So what exactly is it that you want with us, Listener?"

Sukal continued to cook the gren meat. There was a moment's pause and Kwayi thought she saw those same lights pulse through his Bonding. After a moment, they finally answered.

"There is something... wrong... with the Valley."

"Wrong?" Kwayi said. "What's wrong with the Valley?"

"It is not there."

Cass let out a bark of a laugh. "Not there. The Valley just decided to get up and move somewhere else, did it? I knew your kind were crazy."

Sukal shifted uncomfortably. "We are unsure of... This is new. As you know, we are connected to the Mother, to all living things." He reached up and briefly touched the side of his head. Soft lights pulsed briefly. "Through our Bondings, we can feel the ground this vessel is sitting on. We could feel the touch of your horses feet on the ground. That is how we knew where to find you. Everything around us is... connected.

But recently, we could no longer feel the Valley. It felt as though a bit of our memory was just... lost. We know the Valley used to exist. But now, we do not remember it. It is no longer connected to us."

He spread his hands out in front of himself and then let his hands drop. He sighed. Kwayi realized then that the entire camp had fallen still. Draba’s singing had stopped, and all other conversation had ceased.

Cass let out a small burp. "Well, you can come with us if you like. Our pilgrimage is sacred, but I don’t see why we can’t stomach the company of a Listener for a short while." Then he looked around the camp and said, loudly, "But if anyone's gonna come back with a Dragon Stone, it's gonna be me!"

Immediately, a chorus of jeering and laughter rose up from the others, and the mood seemed to lift. Kwayi watched Cass. He stared into the fire, face serious and thoughtful. Around them, small conversations drifted out into the night air, and eventually, one by one, everyone settled into their bedrolls and fell asleep.

* * *

The wind blew in from the darkness, brushing across Kwayi's cheek. But there was more. She could hear voices in the wind. She hadn’t heard the voices on the wind in such a long time, since she was a child. She drifted along with the wind, and felt the stiff grass beneath her. Grandmother Iri hugged her.

Don't worry, little Kwayi'ssa. When the Year of Return comes, the Valley will be happy. It will bloom with life and things will thrive. And you will get to go there, to see for yourself the beautiful dragons.

Kwayi could never remember what words the wind whispered. She listened intently now, trying to hear them. They sounded angry. Or frightened. There was something else, something deep and resonant...

Her eyes snapped open. She lay perfectly still. There had been something else in the wind. Kwayi turned her head ever so slightly to the side.

The fire had burned low, and so its dim light reached no more than a few feet into the darkness.

For a brief moment, she thought she saw two red pinpricks in the night, reflecting the glow of the fire. Then they winked away. She sat up.

Nearby, the Listener was still fast asleep. This should have comforted Kwayi, since if anyone would be able to sense danger nearby it would be him. But the hairs on her neck wouldn't lay down.

She reached over and gently shook Sukal.

He opened his eyes and blinked, finally landing his gaze on Kwayi.

"What is it?" they said.

"Do you... can you feel anything nearby?"

Sukal sat up. Lights pulsed along his Bonding. A strange look came over his face.

"It's... There's nothing around us."

"Oh," Kwayi said, and let out a breath. "Good."

Sukal reached out and grabbed ahold of Kwayi's arm. "No," they said. Their eyes were wide. "We cannot feel anything around us."

Just then, the sound of huge forms swooped low overhead, followed briefly by a warm wind. Kwayi reached over to pack and pulled her sword.

"Awake!" she yelled, and chaos erupted.

Some in the camp awoke quickly, grabbing nearby weapons just as strange dark forms charged in from the darkness, snarling and dripping flames from behind dagger-like teeth. One leaped at Kwayi just as she turned and it struck her in the shoulder as its momentum carried it past, rolling on the ground. She felt a searing pain in her arm and was knocked to the ground.

Kwayi flipped over immediately to find where her sword had landed, and the creature leapt to its feet bounding at her again. She spotted the pale bone of her sword lying in the grass between her and the creature and crawled toward it in a panic. The creature was too close, she would never reach the weapon in time.

Suddenly, the grass in front of her stretched and twisted, and for a moment she felt dizzy, until she realized the grass was growing, up and around the creature, wrapping around it and catching it mid-bound. She looked around and saw Sukal standing next to her, the Bonding pulsing brightly. Beads of sweat gathered on his head.

“Quickly,” he said through clenched teeth.

Kwayi lunged forward and grabbed her sword from where it lay, then with a deft motion, plunged it into the creature’s torso. Horrible, misshapen jaws opened wide, releasing a glut of fire into the night air. Its piercing death scream joined the screams of horses and people around her.

Staggering to her feet, she looked around for any more creatures that may be attacking, but the fight seemed to have ended as quickly as it started. Small fires had gathered in the grass near the bodies of many of the fallen creatures. Several horses lay gutted. And many of Kwayi’s friends lay in the grass. Some with staring, unseeing eyes. Others with horrible wounds that suggested they would not see the next light.

Cass approached, and Kwayi saw his leathers had dark stains on them and a bright red gash ran down the side of his head. He was breathing heavily. He roughly grabbed ahold of Sukal’s shoulder and spun the man to face him.

“What were those things, Listener?”

Sukal’s mouth worked soundlessly, eyes wide. At last, he said, “I… I don’t know.”

“Why did you warn us?”

“I--”

"Cass!" Kwayi yelled. "Lights."

Cass let go of Sukal’s robes and turned to look where Kwayi had pointed. Kwayi stared, hoping that she had imagined it. Then, a small pillar of light leaped into the sky just on the horizon. Then another. And another.

Kwayi looked at Cass and their eyes met. Cass's mouth pressed into a thin straight line. Then he ran to the nearest horse that was still standing and leapt up.

Through the dark night, they raced at dangerous speeds across the prairie. Kwayi knew that one unlucky step could break her mount's leg and send her sprawling. But she didn't care. She had to get back.

On the horizon, the bursts of light had stopped, and now there was only a dull orange glow. After a moment, great dark shapes swooped over them, leathery wings beating against the air, flying back to the south. Kwayi lowered her head, worried that whatever it was would not notice them, or not care about them if it saw.

The Great Father had begun his ascent into the sky by the time they reached their village. When the village came into view, Kwayi finally slowed her horse. The creature was limping horribly and a white froth had gathered along its lips. Cass and Sukal both rode up next to her. In her panicked flight, she had not even tried to make sure they were still with her.

In front of them, great columns of smoke poured into the pink morning air. All around them was the flat yellow prairie, but where the village used to be there was now little more than ashes and the charred black bones of their homes.