The sounds of a warm spring day were drifting in over the rhubarb pie cooling on the window sill. Like the butterfly dancing by on the breeze, memories were fluttering through her mind of days long passed.
This day like any other had its fair share of ups and downs. Age had been creeping up on her for years and had long since started winning this particular fight. The polished metal mirror on the wall near her washbasin told the story best of all.
Lines were carved deeply into her face, a face seemingly old enough to have worn out two or three bodies. Stained dark and leathery from time spent in the sun, the space between the wrinkles revealed the milky complexion once hidden underneath.
The eyes though…the eyes told the best stories of all. Catching herself staring into those eyes from the rocking chair across the room she let her thoughts drift into the past and she remembered…
“Maxwell!” She called at the top of her voice, “Maxwell get in here!”
“I’m coming Raeline, I’m coming, you can stop yelling now,” he called back. The sandy haired man stumbled into the room, wringing his hands now dirty and smudged with ink. Grey was just starting to tinge the hair at his temples and he looked to be a young thirty. “Now, what is so important as to call me from my research?”
Her right hand still clothed in a white gardening glove she held it out palm open to him, a dusky maroon rose sat upon it, resting on her fingers. Maxwell admired it from a distance, then when she rolled her eyes and thrust it at him, moved forward to look at it more closely.
With a dismissing gesture he glanced again at the rose (1), then at her and said, “Yes Rae, it’s a rose.”
Rolling her eyes again, she flustered a bit, gritted her teeth and spoke, “Just why, Maxwell Crussius Thoms, do you think I would be showing you a rose right now?”
He seemed to consider this a moment, then with a smile said, “First one of the season, eh? It’s a beaut too!” and turned to leave.
She stomped her foot, “Maxwell Thoms! Let me know if you would please, just what season is it?”
“Well Rae,” he replied exasperated, “It’s dead of winter of course.”
“Oh?” She replied with an arched eyebrow.
“Yeah Oh…umm, Oh!” understanding seemed to dawn on his face. “Well, where did you get the rose from then.” He seemed to think about his own question for a moment, and then the look of surprise on his face changed into one of shock. “You got that from the tree! You don’t think that means it’s time do you, Rae?”
She seemed to consider the question for a minute then answered, “Well, I think we should definitely consider it, we have known it was coming sometime in our lives. Why not now?”
Nodding, now deep in thought, he finished out what she was thinking, “We’ll have to look for the other signs of course. The gods certainly know we’ve been in need of this for a long time.”
She remembered the prophecy of course, but years of watching the crops and the cities burn, the soldiers, wives and children die, had hardened her heart to the word of the prophecy.
When she was a child, being eldest daughter of the seer she was led to the mountain to hear the voice of the Oracles. The exotic almond eyes and strong noses of those unchanged golden masks wore were faces unlike any she had seen. (2) She was taught they were the daughters of the gods of old. She was taught their word was infallible and led always to the truth and the salvation. This became the foundation of her world.
Years of war and death had chipped and whittled away at that foundation. Even if the leader of their times was born now, how could he save them? Would they last the twenty years it would take for him to grow into the warrior he would become?
Doubts and fears weighed on her as she considered. An expedition would be needed, the two of them at least, likely a few more. The prophecy was clear on this point. The river serpent would need to be consulted. Even with father winter having shown his blessing, nothing would change without the river serpent declaring the change.
Frenzied hours of preparation gave way into days as they each gathered their belongings and made their plans. Three guides would accompany them south to the delta, to visit the River Serpent.
Dawn ushered in the day with cool pink light as they set out upon the road. The three guides made quick work of breaking trail and continued on in silence as the two of them spoke.
“I really think this could be it Rae,” Maxwell admitted with his eagerness betraying him. “With a hero, a real hero of old. You know we can pull this around. Our armies have not faired that well, sure. But you know with the hope of a hero among us we can hold out. Yes, Rae, I feel the change in the air.”
Quietly she listened to him gush on and on while brooding thoughts of her own carried her through each mile. Days turned into weeks as the weather grew warmer. Maxwell’s mood, she noted, continued to be upbeat, but her doubts remained.
“I judge we’ve come most of the distance Rae,” that giant copse of trees in the distance must be it she thought as he continued. “We’ll camp the night and with a fresh start of morning we’ll be there by noon.” His voice softened and with a bit of hesitation he spoke, “Perhaps I’ve not said this enough with everything that has been happening, but I love you Rae. I know we’ve never had a chance for children of our own, but when this prophecy is complete and the future of our home and loved ones is secure, I promise that we’ll get to it. We can get to all of those things we have missed.”
“I know Maxwell,” she answered. “We both were raised with this one mission in life. It has brought us together and also has kept us apart. Mine is to find the signs, yours is to follow them. Together we are to bring them to the world. None of the prophecies have been explained to my complete satisfaction, especially the part about the hero reborn. I do know that we are in this together though.”
Passion took them that night as they camped in the clearing beneath the moonlight overlooking the river delta and for the first time in years they made love.
The next day, cloaked beneath the broad leaves of the rain forest, they walked in dappled sunlight that spotted the damn ground in places. Noon had come and gone and even with the last weeks of winter upon them the day was turning hot in this southern climate.
“I can’t understand Rae,” Maxwell said with an unhidden confusion. “Everything we have seen tells us that the River Serpent should be nearby. Yet, we’ve covered every inch of this ground without having seen any sign of him.”
With a smile she answered, “Patience Maxwell, if it was easy, anyone could do it. Come; let us follow this small rivulet down closer to the river.”
A trek through the heavy underbrush brought them nearer the river, then with an exclamation Raeline pointed. “See it Max! Do you see the markings in the mud?”
Wide, tell-tale marks in the mud spoke of the enormous serpent which had pushed through the soft ground of the rivulet and up the other side. Cutting their way through they followed for several minutes to a wide bed of vines pressed into a hollow.
With a start Max stopped and back peddled away from the edge of a small drop off, where before them the vines were pressed into a hollow. An enormous serpent, sufficient of size to have swallowed a horse, stared back at them from the bed of vines and tasted the air with a flick of its long tongue.
Staring for a moment their amazement turned to shock as they watched the serpent coil and stretch. A sound that would have barely been a whisper from a normal snake was the tearing sound of ripping linen as the skin of the serpent began to part and the fresh scales pushed off the old. (3)
“The serpent has declared the change,” Rae intoned in a formal voice. “The time of the hero has come.”
Turning to face her Maxwell appeared overcome with emotion and started to speak. The words were lost to him as the breath exploded from his body with shock. Staring down in horror he watched the front of his shirt stain with blood as the long serpents tooth withdrew from his shoulder and the serpent turned and sped into the brush.
“No!” screamed Rae, as she rushed to his side. The normally absent guides signed themselves against evil and moved closer to help her. “Maxwell, oh my Maxwell,” she held him close and rocked him a look of shock still on his face as the color drained from it with the blood draining from his body.
“Come Milady,” the guard spoke. “There is naught we can do for him but offer a burial. The venom of the serpent is a quick death and we must leave before the snake returns.”
With a distant thought she noticed the watchful crow, so out of place in this forest, as it sat upon a low branch. She noted the red marked wing and heard the lonely call but gave it no more thought as she turned from this place.
Traveling north again, her footsteps plodded one after the other and she left her love behind her. Pure will carried her onward, long after her hope had faded. She had one clear duty left to this world and would see it done.
Spring came into its own and the trees and flowers were in full bloom as the passed beyond the foothills into the mountains proper. Climbing up and up they passed beyond the tree line and into the thin air of the high mountains. The highest peak loomed yet on the horizon and another three days travel brought them upon it. Undoubtedly from the thin air, she had felt her limbs weakening and would often be sick as they began their days.
Reaching the highest mountain at last and with a bitter cry she spoke to the winds, “Lord of the Four Winds, I have come for your blessing. Cast your breath into the womb of wichever mother will bring a hero. Let this world know the hope that has long since been denied me.”
She sat and cried to the clear air for what seemed hours. The clouds that formed the body and the face of the Winds (4) gathered so slowly they were upon her before she recognized them. The rush of a breeze swept over the peak and in that passing air she heard the voice of a thousand leaves rustling as it spoke, “It is done.”
Still sick of heart and of body she turned from the Lord of the Four Winds and forever left the mountain behind. Merely days away from home she arrived once more to the small cottage where she had shared her life with Maxwell.
Unpruned by her attentive hands, roses had grown to cover the porch and she could see the place in need of some repairs.
With an emptiness, she sat about her chores, determined the fix the cottage and then leave this world behind. When her illness did not fade and her strength continued to drain from her, she grew concerned. As a wise woman and a midwife in her village she had seen the signs all to many times.
Release from this world was lost to her, she was with child.
Months went by and word of the Prophecies being fulfilled reached the ears of the people. Armies rallied and Highlanders from the mountains poured down into the lowlands to carry the fight to the barbarians of the far North. A hero was coming…
“Push now child,” urged the midwife who had been called from a few villages over. “You are near the end here and it’s a fine boy I can see.”
Later, with the small bundle resting in her arms just minutes from her womb she saw the same red marked crow (5) sitting upon her window sill framed against the clear blue sky and heard again its lonely call. Then she saw the tenuous misty form drift from the mouth of the crow as the breath of the Winds drifted through the open window and into her child. A hero was born…
Waking from her reverie and drifting thoughts of the past she reflected on all that had changed. She had missed her Maxwell all of these years but together they had indeed brought the world hope.
Closing her eyes once more she dreamed briefly of her husband. Then she joined him forever in the afterlife.
A red marked crow sat upon her window sill and admired the rhubarb pie, now cool from the afternoon breeze then carried another soul to heaven.
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Cedric
