Stormchild: Emeline and the Forest Mage

17 Father of Time

"In the beginning the Heavens were

In the Heavens the Fathers dwelled

On thrones three sat they clothed in white

Spoke the Father of Creation

Let chaos be and Götterland was

Let dreams be and Träumenland was

Let beauty be and Erdeland was

Spoke the Father of Time

Slow he said and Götterland stagnated

Fast he said and the Earth's Axel moved

Mystery he said and the Dreamworld drifted

Spoke the Father of Life

I give infinity and Götterland forever was

I give life and dreams reality were

I give death and mortal Erdeland was"

~ The Book of Beginnings, Chapter One.

Erdil

Sheyå danced in the sand. The sand danced too. She wiggled her toes, and the sand wiggled too. The sand was her friend. 'Don't worry, sand,' she thought, 'I will never eat you again.' She drew her face as close to the sand as she could, sheer focus in her intense gaze, and she whispered, 'I didn't mean to.'

    The sand was smiling. It made her want to smile too. 'You're my friend, sand,' she thought. She looked conspiratorially at Färin's back.

    'Come on sand,' she spoke inside her heart to her friend, 'let's play. Be quiiieeeeet.' Sheyå snuck closer to the friendly man. 'Follow my hand and dance with my fingers. You are my best friend.'

    She raised both hands up high into the air. The sand followed her. They were both happy. She sent the sand into Färin's back with a giggle. When it hit his back, he fell hard on his face, straight into the sand. Sheyå giggled again. The sand laughed too. When Färin lifted himself up from the sand, he didn't look like a nice man anymore. She didn't like it.

    'Don't do that Sheyå, it hurts! We still have a long way to go, and we only have a little water left.' Sheyå cringed. She didn't want water. It was wet. It made her feel heavy and sticky. The sand didn't want water either. She folded her arms. The sand hid under her toes.

    Färin looked at her funny, then he wiped his face with his hands. 'Sorry for shouting Sheyå. I'm just...Not, uhh...used to this sorcery of yours.' The sand clung to him and he shook it off with a disgusted grimace on his face as he stood up. 'Let's just get to the Gruwoud, ok? There's a man there who can help you.'

    Sheyå didn't want help from the Gruwoud man. She wanted to play with the sand. She wanted to hit Färin in the back again, so she nodded at him and waited for him to turn and keep walking. He didn't. He lifted her into his arms and gave her a big hug. Maybe she could shoot him a bit later. Sheyå put her hand on his cheek and said, 'Ok Färin.'

    He looked happy. Sheyå wanted Färin to be happy. She walked behind him after that, and she told the sand to follow her instead of shooting him. She smiled. They were all happy now.

#

    North. No, North West. That meant the sun should be...On his right? No left. Färin fervently wished he'd paid more attention to his father's tutoring. The sordid desert was so hot and dry. It was disorienting. He shook his head. It felt as though a cloud had floated into his brain. His tongue felt swollen and raw, and he knew his lips were cracked and bleeding. Damn sensitive northern skin.