Monday, February 4, 2013

The Sacrifice

I know fairy tales are overdone, but I still can't stay away.  Here's the beginning of my own take on a classic fairy tale.


The wind howled through the bare trees, creating an eerie whistling noise as it went.  The sky was dark, not a star to be found.  Clouds hung low to the ground, heavy with snow.  The only light in the forest came from the pale blue stone resting upon the Queen’s neck.
She walked slowly through the woods, minding her feet and keeping a tight grip on the basket in her arms.  She knew that if she fell she’d lose the basket and its precious contents.  Her shoulders were tense and her face, what was visible though the glow, was a mixture of fear, worry, and determination.
For hours she moved through the dark, wind-bitten woods, with only the stone around her neck to guide her.
At the darkest point of the night she reached her destination.
At first glance the clearing was nothing special.  It was small and covered in snow.  The other side was just barely visible through the pale blue light.  Only after studying the clearing for a moment could the oddness be detected. 
The clearing was a perfect circle.  Many would call it a Fairy Circle, but the Queen knew better.
It was a Circle of Sacrifice.
Carefully the Queen slipped a pair of enchanted slippers out of her basket.  She’d gotten the court magician to charm them for her.  She couldn’t leave footprints in the circle or any sacrifice she made would be in vain.
She slipped on the slippers and carefully stepped onto the snow.  Holding her breath, the Queen took a step and then looked behind her.
There was no footprint.
She breathed a sigh of relief that was inaudible over the howling wind.  Some of the worry left her face; making her appear much younger.
Carefully she walked to the center of the circle.  She began pulling small lumps of coal out of her basket.  Methodically she placed them in the shape of a circle. 
When the circle was complete she looked over it carefully.  Reaching down every once in a while to adjust a piece by a centimeter or two. 
Finally she seemed satisfied.
Once more reaching into her basket she pulled out a ruby red apple.  Gently she set the apple in the direct center of the circle.
Next she pulled out a sharp silver knife.  It gleamed dangerously in the light.  The wind picked up as she placed the tip of the knife against her palm.  As she sliced the palm of her pale hand the wind became an ungodly howl.  It whipped around her, tearing the cloak from her head and causing her pale hair to fly free.
She didn’t move to restrain her hair.  Instead she stared intently at her hand.  Her eyes gleaming like sapphires in the light as her dark blood raced to the cut, sparkling and shining with an almost as if it was not of this earth.
Raising her hand up over the apple, she began to chant in her low, rich voice:
Grandmother,
I call on thee,
I give to thee my blood,
I give to thee the fruit of life,
I give to thee the rock of death,
I beseech thee to accept these gifts.
At this point she turned her hand so that a single drop of blood fell from it and landed on the apple. 
For an instant nothing happened, and then the clearing erupted in an unearthly red light.
The Queen closed her eyes and winced as the light blinded her, but she did not otherwise move. 
After a minute the light dimmed and the Queen opened her eyes to see a beautiful woman standing on the other side of the circle of coal.  The woman’s green eyes were as hard and cold as emeralds and her red hair flowed around her like a sea of flames.
When she spoke, her voice was high and hard, completely at odds with the delicate Queen’s voice.
“I accept your gifts, I will hear your plea, I may grant your wish, what do you want of me?”
The Queen took a deep breath, trying hard to steady her nerves, but never looking away from the other woman.
“Grandmother, I come to make a deal.  I have been married to my love for five years now.  I have been unable to bear a child.  He will not consider setting me aside for another, rather he maintains hope.  I know that the hope is futile.  I will not ever be able to give him a child on my own.  If there is no child then this kingdom will fall apart upon my love’s death, our enemies will destroy us.  Even now they hover around our borders, growing bolder each year that I remain barren.  I cannot let Larisa fall.” 
The Queen stopped to take another deep breath.  “I ask that you grant me a child.  In return I grant you my life to do with as you wish.  All I ask is that you ensure that my child is safe until their sixteenth birthday.  Then they will be old enough to care for themselves.”
Grandmother considered this for a few minutes.  After what felt like eons to the Queen she finally spoke.  “I shall grant your wish, a child you shall get, made from your gifts, then my conditions must be met.”
The Queen smiled a little in relief, “I shall meet all conditions you set, Grandmother.  Thank you.”
Grandmother nodded, and then reached forward to pick up the apple.  She stared at it for a moment before a small, almost evil smile appeared on her face.
“A deal we have made, a bargain we have set, in nine months you shall fade, no one will be in debt.”
With these words Grandmother disappeared, taking the red light with her. 
The Queen stared at the now empty clearing.  Her shoulders drooped as tension left her body.  Immediately her fear and worry was replaced by a mixture of sadness and relief.  Tears began to leak down her face as she made her way out of the clearing.
She had done it.
 She had saved her kingdom and her love.
It had only cost her everything.

XXX

Nine months later the Queen lay on her soft bed.  It was a bed worthy of a queen.  Draped in ruby red velvet hangings and made of solid oak it dominated the room.  She lay limply on her silk sheets, exhausted, her body spent, but it had all been worth it. 
Lying next to her was the most beautiful baby girl she had ever seen.  Her hair was as black as coal, her lips as red as blood, and her skin as pale as snow.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, a smile of pure joy on his face, sat the King.  Tears were shimmering in his dark eyes as he looked at the young princess.
The Queen smiled tiredly up at her husband, “Do you have a name?”
He nodded, “Eira Miniver, after our mothers.”
“I like that.”  As she spoke she saw a flicker out of the corner of her eye.  Turning her head she saw Grandmother beckoning to her.
Knowing she had only moments, the Queen moved her hand so it was resting on the King’s.  “Charles, take care of her, please.”
The King frowned, fear suddenly creeping into his eyes, “Why? You’ll be here too.  The midwife said it was an easy birth.”
Tears fell from the Queen’s eyes as she felt Grandmother’s pull grow stronger.  She managed to utter one last sentence before life left her body.
“I love you.”

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