True Morels

There weren’t always dragons in The Valley. They only came because I begged them.

It was an ordinary day. I had spent it wandering through the Valo Forest looking for my prize: a basket full of elderberries and wild spring onions and true morel mushrooms. The basket tapped against my waist and the muck of the undergrowth squelched beneath the soles of my bare feet. I hurried along the trail back home. Behind me, the sun lay to rest with a final, blood-red flick of flame between the darkened canopies of the forest, which twisted its way up the nearby mountains like the knuckles of a gnarled old man.

At least, that’s what my grandmother always said. The Valo Forest reminded her of the grasping hands of an elderly, war-torn man.

But I’d never seen an old man. I’d never seen a man at all, in fact.

Our village was all women, like my mother and my grandmother, my sister Enna and all my cousins. The village lay at the bottom of a steep mountain range, upon which stood our ferocious protectors: the Dragon Guard.

I’d never been anywhere outside those rocky walls. The Other World was a forbidden, foreboding place and it would dishonor the Guard to leave their protection.

I knew the dragons were up there, of course. Everyone knew they watched over our Valley, to keep us safe from the violence of The Other World. Beyond the mountains were distant Cities, the likes of which I’d only heard about in my grandmother’s wild stories. She said The Other World was full of broken people in broken places, where men destroyed one another for the resources which grew abundantly in the ground.

That’s why she said my job as our family forager was so important. To know the land is to honor the Guard and our mission. But I think she just said that so I wouldn’t pull Enna’s hair out when she called me the biggest freak to ever come out of the woods.

That’s how we all came to be here: we ran away as children, gave up our memories to the Guard, and showed up in The Valley of the Valo Forest. None of us really knows why.

In exchange for the Dragon Guard’s protection, our village had a single charge: to protect, nurture, and love those who escaped The Other World and the land on which we live. This was our moral obligation as warriors of the Guard, Mother said. To live in harmony with our Earth and each other was a great honor.

Our Valley was the only safe haven left in the world, she said, and we had a sacred duty to protect it.

I asked Grandmother why children showed up in the village, if they had other mothers and weren’t they worried? She said yes, but that they were running from the expectations and could have a better life here, just like I did.

But I didn’t really know what expectations she meant.

I must have been on the run, too, of course, because I woke up at the edge of the Valo Forest at the age of 13 with no memories and no name, just a lumpy mark on my back not unlike the morel mushrooms in my basket.

Most girls come to the Valley when they’re quite young. Mother runs a daycare for them in our cottage while the older girls tend to the fields and the animals. I’m not big on kids, but I do like to read to them occasionally, just like Grandmother did for me.

I wondered why I came to the Valley when I was so much older than the others. Mother said I was blessed by the Guard to have escaped after I came of age. She said it must have taken real courage to leave my life behind, and maybe one day I’d come to understand why.

My mother gave me the name Ryse, after my grandmother, and ever since, I followed the long line of those before me in our mission to create a better world in our sanctuary.

And it’s only women. I guess I count as a woman in that way, because Mother said I am, even though I don’t feel like one.

I never once fit in. My cousins thought I was weird to have arrived in The Valley so late. They called me ‘Freak of The Other Weird’ for three years straight. My sister Enna said I was odd in other ways, too, because I liked my hair short while hers fell in gentle coils past her shoulders. Where she was strong and graceful, I was chubby and awkward. She loved to care for the children of the village, and I always preferred the company of the forest.

We never got along, so I lived in the stories I found in books.

Once Enna caught me reading one of Grandmother’s secret books about The Other World, and a grotesque picture of its decrepit land and people fell out of it. I didn’t mean to scare her with it, but Enna tattled and Mother told me off for sneaking around in Grandmother’s library. I don’t know why. Grandmother often talks to me about The Other World and lets me read whatever I like.

Enna said I was a spy for the men and that I would be doing everyone in the village a favor if I slipped past the Guard like I did when I was 13 and never came back.

Grandmother sent her to milk the goats and told me to pick mushrooms in the forest.

I always liked the job. I was good at finding the best things to eat, and I could be away from everyone all day. Some days I pretended that the wizened old man of the forest appeared and said he would be my friend, and we searched the ruins of Calagh Castle for treasures.

I loved it, even though I only came up with pebbles and parchment. Sometimes I dipped my toes in the water of Corondel Creek, which ran right up against the curved roots of the forest. I leaped across the rainbow rocks beneath the creek’s surface and pretended I was on the back of a dragon, soaring over mountaintops and defending The Valley from intruders.

I never knew what fighting was really like, of course, having lived in the safety of The Valley as long as I can remember. And I’d never actually seen a dragon, either. Both ideas were quite exciting, and, though I’d never tell Enna, a little terrifying.

After I collected my basket of food, I nestled beside a tree trunk and the heavy air of the forest rocked me to sleep. I dreamed about tall, sparkling buildings on an opalescent ocean, acres of golden rice paddies and fields of royal wildflowers.

It was a beautiful day.

I woke up to the distant sound of roaring and shouting. I glanced at the darkening sky with a gentle panic in my chest.

It wasn’t unusual to hear the Dragon Guard, well, on guard, especially at night. I was never privy to know what The Other Worlders wanted, but they’ve tried to break past the Guard for ages. That night was no exception. But the fight sounded like it was miles and miles away. I was safe.

Still, I picked up my basket and hastily followed the familiar path toward home.

I was halfway there when I felt an earth-shaking explosion. I paused for a moment, breathing hard. I’d never heard anything that close before. Did something happen to the Dragon Guard? My pants snagged on a bramble bush as I broke into a jog, my foraged finds leaping from my basket.

How did I stay out so late? It’s already so dark! I whimpered to myself as a roar echoed from the mountaintop. I quickened my step.

Our cottage appeared in a break in the trees, and I slowed down. The firelight flickered softly through the window and I smelled the gentle Juniper-wood smoke wafting from the stone chimney. A sense of ease washed over me – I'd put enough distance between myself and the wars on the mountain.

The cottage door opened and I heard the swish of Enna’s skirts. With a broom handmade of cinnamon and birch, she swept the day’s dirt into the yard.

From inside the house, Mother called, “Do you see Ryse?”

Enna grumbled, “Maybe she’s on the mountaintop playing with Dragons, Gods willing.”

I rolled my eyes and pushed up my sleeves, a surge of annoyance bubbling up in my throat. I started forward to tell Enna exactly where she could shove that broom when I saw him.

A shadow on the move, taller than any person I’d ever seen before, weaving through the dark.

A man.

A real, live man!

No – of course not. It can’t be! I thought.

But he stumbled through the forest, groaning with effort and apparently on a mission.

In our forest! I gaped, disbelieving. Long legs propelled him through the trees at an alarming speed. Trapped between abject terror and deep curiosity, I stepped behind a tree to observe him from afar.

Sweat gleaned on his forehead. Looking over his shoulder, he stopped behind the trunk of the Hawthorn tree which held the swing for our daycare children. His chest heaved like he’d been sprinting for hours. A bright burn along his muscular arm shined pink and fresh. With the hem of a torn sleeve he wiped his mouth, then used a large hand to push his matted hair out of his eyes.

I awoke from my trance as one thought screamed in my mind.

How did he get past the Dragon Guard?

He peeked around the tree trunk at Enna, a curious grin playing on his face. I saw a spotted birthmark on his neck not unlike the one I had on my back and gasped quietly.

Maybe he was like me? Perhaps I ought not have been so afraid. If we shared a scar, maybe we shared a story. Maybe the man was an upstanding citizen of The Other World who lost his way.

But I was terrified.

I was amazed.

I was frozen.

Something flashed in my vision. Long and sharp in his hand, his tarnished blade glinted from the light of the window. Blood dripped from its tip onto the forest floor.

I dropped my basket, mushrooms and onions toppling over my toes.

Before I could make a sound, before I could warn her, before I could run to her rescue like the Dragon Guard in my books – the man leapt out from behind the trees and grabbed Enna. He stifled her scream with his dirty, bleeding fingers. Holding his blade to her throat, he dragged her away into the dark.

The echoes of the Dragon Guard's battle roared in the distance.

And all around me, our world went up in smoke.