Through the Vale

Chapter 1

There weren’t always dragons in the valley. But then, sunlight wasn’t always red, either, and who can remember so far back, beside the oldest amongst us? Certainly not I!

The dragons in the deep vale between our village and Thursalon were a beastly site; the never-ending reminder of our powerlessness against the forces of nature. Thankfully, we didn’t have any fire-breathers, or we’d have all starved last winter like the village on the far side of the mountain. No, the beasts that inhabited our valley ate trees…and the windowless huts built of mud brick told the sad tale. I wanted to build a window into my room extension when I turned sixteen, but Mother said there’d be no way to keep out the crippets. I told her I could build a window-cover of rock shale, but she told me to go milk the curlof and be thankful we had a brick house at all. I suppose she was thinking of the mud hut the Byst aunties built for shelter after the avalanche destroyed their old wooden home. I’d heard it said that that old home was built of real lumber from the olden days.

The curlof was in an exceptionally bouncy mood, and splashed over a good portion of the milk before I’d finished. On my way back to the house, I spied Thees Weins walking his two sisters to the weaver’s hut.

“Aye, Skyverly!” Thees called to me.

I smiled and waved with my free hand. Thees’ sister Wensulair bit her lip and smiled at me, and I’m sure my face flushed so that Thees couldn’t help but notice.

Wensulair was singularly beautiful, with the rare hair that was red on one side of her head and flaxen on the other. In keeping with her rarity, she also had one eye of green, and one of blue. A tiny tipped up nose atop a perfectly formed mouth always made me flush.

Thankfully, Thees was preoccupied with his much younger sister, Adelia. She was skipping and hopping to the point of exasperation.

“Adelia, the path is narrow ahead and near the edge of the gorge. For the love of the Maker, do walk in a quiet fashion!”

Adelia giggled and thrust her hand into her brother’s. As I smiled at their comraderie, I was startled to see a blueish glow emanating from Thees’ scaled leather side bag. I had hardly time to think what it could mean before I heard the sound of my mother’s voice.

“SKYV! The milk!”

I hoisted the clay jar in front of my chest, gingerly setting my arms to absorb any movement, then bolted into a dead run back to the house. It seemed that everything today was all in a bounce.

I set the clay jar on the brick tabletop and rubbed beads of sweat from my temples. Stepping over to the pile of dung chips, I shoveled another pan into the fire under the kettle. The dry tinder caught and flamed slowly, ensuring mother would have enough fire to finish the meal. I put the small shovel back in its place and leaned against the wall.

Mother was bustling about the table, making the morning meal. Taking up the jar of curlof’s milk, she poured it into the steaming pot of porridge, gave a good, hard stir and quickly began to spoon it onto our plates. The tocu immediately thickened and held its shape. Mother passed me my plate.

The warm feel and vanilla fragrance was delightful. I bowed my head to thank the Maker in silence, then broke off a piece of the thick goodness and popped it into my mouth. The soft sweetness covered my tongue as I chewed and I smiled. I loved tocu.

As I stared into the fire beneath the kettle, it seemed to me that it, too, glowed with a blueish tint.