Vivace

Clouds churned on the horizon, a deep slate veil over the vibrant blue sky. In hours those clouds would consume the southern horizon. A young girl peeked through a hole in the turret wall, where a boulder had smashed through long ago. She wore a hardened leather outfit crafted by her father, an older cordwainer who once made armor for the armies of the old kingdom. 

“If you’re going out, take the wool cloak. It will repel much of the rain that is to come.”

She instinctively grabbed the umbra cloak and donned it. A perfect fit.

 “I’m going to pick raspberries and try to collect some eggs for breakfast. I’ll be back before the storm hits.”

He grunted a reply, one she had grown used to whenever her father was diligently working on a new project. She poked her head out of the turret again, looking for her supplies. Her basket and yew bow were leaning against the old stonework on the broken bulwark. She grabbed them and made her way to the tree line not far off. 

She watched the wind caress the flowers in front of her with envy. The intricate scents of oxeye daisies, poppies and lavender filled her nose. The colors alone tempted her to abandon her gathering duties, but she remained alert to the coming storm. When she reached the tree line, she noticed a flower she never saw. A vibrant blue columbine. She stooped down and collected the lovely flower.

As she entered the thick beech forest, the surroundings contrasted sharply with the open meadow. The sun was unable to penetrate the thick canopy. The forest smelled fresh and earthy, a scent she loved that stirred her curiosity. She notched an arrow in anticipation of any trouble. There were plenty of predators in the woods that would gladly make a meal of her.

This was her daily routine. She knew the raspberry clearing was roughly two hundred paces away, and she knew every bend, root, and fallen branch along the way. There were plenty of grouse around, too, and she could steal their eggs or perhaps bring one home for meat. Regardless of how routine it became, she remained alert and cautious. Off in the distance she could hear the grunts of wild boar and the chittering of small rodents. A smile crossed her face. She loved hearing the wildlife. 

Branches in the dense underbrush snapped under her weight and she stooped under low-hanging tree limbs. Not far off, she heard a low, guttural grunt. She quickly identified that it was a young buck. It was likely warning the others of her presence. She smiled, knowing that the forest was as much aware of her as she was of it. She stopped to listen as other deer barked their alarm. 

As she approached the clearing she had been to countless times, she heard a loud snap. In the distance, she watched a massive beech tree collapse. Sunlight burst through the opening created in the canopy. The sound made her freeze a second longer than she liked. She looked toward the clearing and to the collapsed tree.

“It’ll only be a second,” she told herself.

She hurried over to the tree and examined its gnarly trunk. She tried to find a reason why a completely healthy tree would keel over. No rot, no borer weevil holes. Her curiosity piqued. Thick bark ground against her skin as she ran her hand over it. Under the shadow of the trunk she could see an iridescent sapphire liquid pouring from the tree into a shimmering pool.

Come closer, child. 

The voice filled her head. It was raspy, faint and weak. She looked around to see who had spoken but saw no one. She placed her basket down and held her bow at the ready. She realized she could hear nothing, there was no light breeze flowing through the treetops. No rustling of critters unseen in the underbrush. Deep down, it made her uneasy. She looked again at the sapphire puddle.

Yes, child. Examine me.

She put a finger in her ear. A strange pressure pushed outward. She could tell now that the voice was coming from inside her head. She loosened her grip on the string of her bow.

“Who are you?” she asked with feigned authority.

Come closer and see, peer into the mirror and you will discover me.

She stooped down, her hand braced against the beech trunk as she stared intently at the sapphire puddle. Images began to race through her mind faster than she could process. They overwhelmed her thoughts and threatened to consume her being. Then they slowed.

She could make out the shape of a woman in the haze. She loaded a basket with assorted goods. The woman strode with elegance and authority. She wore a regal outfit of varying shades of deep blue. Her platinum blonde hair flowed down her back. Everyone she passed seemed to lock their eyes with hers and then fell into ranks behind her. 

The visions picked up their pace. The young girl watched as the woman approached an old castle. She stroked a guard on the face. Then blood ran through the streets. Screams echoed through the chaos. She heard the distinct sound of bowstrings twanging and stone crumbling, then blackness, silence.

The dainty woman was alone in this darkness. She uttered a sentence the young girl couldn’t make sense of. She turned to face the young girl and locked her fiery blue eyes with hers. The young girl immediately broke from the trance and fell backward into a soft mound of dirt.

I am Cailleach. I have been cursed to remain within this tree until today. It seems our destinies are entwined. Reach forth and touch me, and no longer will you live amongst ruins. You can have your kingdom.

The young girl lost her grip on the notched arrow and it dropped to the ground. She stood up instinctively and held her bow tight to her body. With all the power she could summon, she broke free from the gaze of the iridescent puddle and grabbed her basket and bolted for the clearing. Not once did she look back at the strange puddle.

I’ll see you tonight, Vivace. In your dreams.

          ___________________________________________

Vivace returned to the ruined turret just as the first raindrops began to fall. Her basket was half filled with luscious raspberries, a quarter dozen eggs and a plump grouse. She placed the basket onto a rough-sawn beech table her father made weeks ago but never finished. He was stoking a freshly lit campfire and preparing a cast iron skillet with fresh boar lard to fry up the eggs.

He stood and looked into his daughter's basket. A smile streaked across his face.  “I’ll clean up the grouse, will you chop up the potato and onion we have left?”

“Of course,” she grabbed the root vegetables from a clay pot at the other end of the table and began to cut them up into thin chunks.

Before long her dad returned from outside with two grouse breasts. He slapped the meat onto a clay plate and had his daughter put the vegetables in the skillet. As she stirred them around the rendered lard, she thought back to the puddle. All the images she could make out raced through her mind. Vivace forced saliva past a lump in her throat. She was nervous to ask her dad a question.

 “Dad, does the name Cailleach mean anything to you?”

The mere mention of the name caused her father to drop his knife. The metal clanked against the stone ground.  The ringing echoed through the open chamber. As he stooped to pick up the knife, he locked eyes with his daughter. He was pale and fraught with anguish from the question.

“Where on earth did you hear that wretched name, Vivace?”

She hated lying to her father, but against her best intentions she did. “I don’t know, I think I read it in some scroll around the old castle grounds.”

He narrowed his eyes with obvious skepticism but accepted her answer. “It’s just a name. Don’t bother yourself with it.”

Rain pounded harder onto the sides of the turret as if in response to his answer. Vivace wasn't convinced that her dad was telling the truth. She stirred the onions and potatoes as the rain lulled her into a trance-like state as she stared into the melted lard. Her father stared at Vivace, wondering where her thoughts were traveling.

A soft crack in the distance disturbed her trance. She saw the translucent onions and looked to her father. He was staring at her, as though he was trying to read her thoughts. She avoided his gaze for a second, thinking that her face would betray her thoughts. Then she looked directly at him. “I think we’re ready for the eggs.”

He reached for the basket, and took it over to Vivace. She grabbed the grouse eggs and broke them into the root mixture. They spread across the seasoned pan. As the eggs cooked, she picked up the columbine.

“Look dad, I’ve never seen this kind of flower growing around here.”

He looked down and saw the bell-shaped flower, its back spurs hung low like an eagle's talon. His body tensed and his hand clenched into a fist. 

He hid his agitation. “It’s a columbine. They used to be all over these parts back when Cail– “

A crack of lightning muffled his speech. At that moment he was thankful for the loud interruption.

His gaze settled on his daughter. He chose his next words carefully, hoping she hadn't noticed. “Back when this castle was still standing. Where did you find it?”

She stared at the entrance of the turret. “It was at the edge of the field.”

Her dad grabbed two wooden plates and held them out for her. As she flipped the eggs onto their plates and divided the vegetables between their plates, she noticed her father had disappeared. By the time she had set the table he returned, dripping wet and holding a small glass vase. He set the vase down in the middle of the table and gave her a reassuring smile. He grabbed the columbine and placed it into the vase.

Vivace smiled at the small gesture her father offered, for a moment she stopped thinking about the puddle. 

          ________________________________________

Monstrous cracks followed every lightning bolt that scattered across the sky. Dust shook loose from the old stones and trickled onto everything from the reverberations of the noise. Vivace sat on a low stool her father crafted. She stared out at the forest being pummeled with hail and rain. This storm seemed different from others. The air was heavy and it made her tired.

Vivace looked over at her dad who was toiling away on his workbench where for the past couple of weeks he had remained for most of the day. She twirled her thumbs together for a moment or two, and looked down at her bedroll. She knew she was afraid to sleep. Cailleach’s words repeated in her mind. 

I’ll see you tonight, Vivace. In your dreams.

“Dad?” Vivace finally spoke up, trying to ease her sorrow. “What are you working on?”

Chuckling lightly, he set down his tools and turned around, “You remember Bruno and Hilda?”

“The merchant’s from Audor? They always have the coolest things.”

He motioned Vivace over to his workbench. The smell of warm, cozy beeswax filled her nostrils. Laid out on the workbench was a finely shaped piece of leather that her father was currently embossing with a coat of arms.

“It’s cuir bouilli, a technique I learned a while ago from some of the finest artisans. Bruno and Hilda’s son was conscripted to go fight in the war. They asked me to make him this. It’s almost finished, maybe next week we can bring it to them.”

Vivace marveled at the craftsmanship, she’d seen small pieces of her dad’s work but nothing as intricate as this. She reached out her hand and stroked the chest piece, it was hard as a rock and blemishless. On the right side of his table was a freshly wax-sealed letter addressed to a priest whose name Vivace recognized. Next to the leather was a half crumbled note, she could make out one word which caused her to pull her hand away from the leather.

Cailleach.

Looking up at his daughter, he followed her gaze to the half-crumbled note. He hurried to clear the paper from his workbench. 

“Why did you write a letter to Mr. Meissner? Is it about Cailleach?”

“Little Vivace, don’t trouble yourself with those thoughts. Some stories are better left buried.”

“Okay, well what does the story say about her?”

He turned around to face her, he wanted to ease her mind once and for all. But every time he thought about Cailleach, his stomach turned. 

“Next time we’re in Audor, I’ll take you to the church and Mr. Meissner can tell us both.”

As he finished the sentence, a bolt of lightning struck a dozen or so feet from the ruined turret they were nestled in. The sonic boom split their thoughts and threatened to rupture their eardrums. He stood up as quickly as he could to protect her from any debris that might come tumbling down.

“Are you okay, my girl?”

Tears streamed down from her face, and she broke into a fit of uncontrolled crying. He held her for what felt like an eternity to her. She knew the crying wasn’t from the lightning but from the meeting she had with Cailleach. There was only one way for her to fight this feeling. She knew she had to sleep.