Ëlarrasta - Prologue
A tiny sneak peek of my mythic fantasy novel
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Solki’s breath curled before him in the cold as he put fresh bait on his hook. He dipped his line back into the fishing hole and waited. Aarpo was sitting across from him, staring intently down into the black depths. He was so bundled up in white furs that only his deep blue eyes were visible.
“The fish must be frozen too,” Aarpo said in a muffled voice, jiggling his line.
Solki wore something similar and pulled his outer coat tighter around himself. In this weather he didn’t doubt it.
The light of the overcast day rested softly on the wide snow-covered lake. The surrounding pine forest stood silently as though a breath of wind had not stirred it in years. On the nearby shore was the village. People moved quietly between cabins while smoke rose from chimneys into the dead air.
“I’ve never seen a worse winter,” Solki muttered.
Aarpo grunted his agreement. Their lines hung slack in the darkness. It had been hours.
Solki added, “This would work better if I were an otter.”
Aarpo grunted again.
Solki pulled his line back up. “I think I have tried long enough today. I should go check the traps.”
“You already did,” Aarpo said, still focused on his line.
“What else is there to try? Something could have changed.”
“If you sat still.”
Solki let out an irritated sigh. “Aarpo?”
Aarpo leaned further forward and squinted into the black water. He twitched his line. Solki crossed his arms and frowned. Nothing was going to happen. He was wrong.
The tip of Aarpo’s pole bent, and he yanked back. He had something. Silver flashed in the hole, and soon a good-sized fish broke from the surface. It thrashed as it was pulled up, but the hook came loose at the very last moment. The fish plopped back into the water. Without hesitation, Aarpo plunged his hand in after it. He caught it by the tail and hurled it up into the snow beside him. The wriggling fish stiffened in the icy air. Aarpo killed it quickly, then pulled off his frozen glove and stuffed his hand into his furs. He stood up with his catch. His eyes sparkled. “My family eats well tonight,” he said, then strode off into the village. Solki smiled at him and dipped his hook back into the water. Perhaps there were more.
Solki remained, jiggling his line and muttering to himself, until the clouds in the west blazed pink with sunset. There was nothing but cold, lifeless water. He glanced over his shoulder as footsteps drew near. He couldn’t quite see who was coming, but by the patient stride, he knew it was his old father, Lapëla.
“It is late,” Lapëla said. He sat down next to Solki and peered into the hole.
“It isn’t fair,” Solki groaned.
Lapëla chuckled. “The fish are obligated to bite?”
“Of course they are.”
Only the creases at the corners of Lapëla’s eyes suggested a smile. Several long white locks were peeking out from under his cowl.
“Selpa said he’d give you his extra rabbit.”
Solki sighed. “I don’t like handouts.”
“There is nothing wrong with needing help from a friend, son. I have needed help, even as the leader.”
“But my family needs me to be strong.”
“They need you to know when to be strong. We all care about you. Vaer cares about you.”
Solki nodded. “I know.”
He pulled up his line. Ice clung to it, and the bait was frozen. Lapëla helped him to his feet, then rested his hands on Solki’s shoulders.
“You’ve done enough for today. All days come to an end.”
“Even these? It seems like they never end.”
Lapëla sighed. “Yes, son. I’m tired too.”
Lapëla gave Solki a gentle nudge towards the cabins. Solki conceded. They walked back side by side. Their boots swished through the snow. When they reached the quiet village, the clouds thinned and the first stars peeked out beyond dark, distant hills. Lapëla led Solki up to Selpa’s door and knocked. Moments later, Selpa opened the door a crack, and a ray of firelight spilled into the night.
Playfully, Lapëla said, “I have Solki.”
Selpa laughed. “Ahh. You have captured the great Solki of the Lake. He is in need of rabbit.”
Selpa disappeared for a short while, then the door opened wide and he stood holding the furry white creature. He handed it to Solki.
“You didn’t have to,” Solki said with an embarrassed smile.
“You are right. You didn’t make me exchange it for my freedom.”
Lapëla chuckled. “Thank you, Selpa. Goodnight to both of you.”
Lapëla walked into the night. His footsteps faded into winter silence. Selpa shut the door, and Solki was left alone under the stars holding the gift. He sighed then headed for home.
Music softly filled the air as Solki neared his door. He rested his hand on the handle and listened. Inside, his wife, Arra, was singing an evening song and plucking the kantele.
Snow, snow falls softly on the land,
It enters like a young, young fawn,
Careful, careful, are these creatures,
Their feet never sound, never sound,
Solki opened the door gently. The warm glow of firelight met his tired eyes. Arra was sitting in the chair beside the hearth. Their two young daughters were half-asleep on the shaggy brown rug at her feet. Yet as soon as Solki closed the door, the girls’ heads snapped towards him. They pushed themselves up and ran to him. Solki stooped and found himself almost choking in their embrace.
“Oh, Father! You found a rabbit!” one said.
Solki held up the furry white creature bashfully. “Yes, I finally caught something.”
None of them knew. He wasn’t about to tell them he had gotten it from Selpa. Arra set aside the instrument and came to inspect what he had brought, which apparently included a lot of snow. She brushed off his hat and shoulders.
“You must have burrowed through the snow after that rabbit,” she chuckled.
“I’m fine. It’s just weather,” Solki said, trying to break free from the girls and get his cowl off.
When he succeeded at both, he lovingly handed the rabbit to Arra, then pulled off his boots, hat, and gloves. He walked past the table, which was in the center of the cabin, and settled down in the chair by the hearth. He closed his eyes. The girls left him be, so as to not disturb his rest.
The house smelled of meat as Arra prepared stew. The fire crackled warmly. Winter didn’t belong here. Once spring came, the land would be filled with life. The reindeer would return. The flowers would bloom in the forest. They just needed to hold on a bit longer.
When the stew was finally ready, Arra ladled it into four bowls from a big pot in the hearth. Everyone sat down at the table. One of the girls gave thanks with her small, innocent voice.
“Vaer, this food looks so good. Thanks. Thanks for father and mother and sister.”
Solki smiled. He put a hot spoonful in his mouth, forgetting to blow on it. He quickly regretted it. The stew was delicious.
The long day out on the ice made him very hungry, and he had seconds. But as he lifted yet another spoonful to his mouth, sounds of distress broke through their walls. He froze. The girls huddled up against their mother. People were screaming and wailing. The spoon slipped from Solki’s fingers into the bowl. He bolted towards the door, but before he could reach it, it flew open with a blast of cold. An archer with long, brown, matted hair, clad in thick reddish furs, stood in the doorway. Solki sucked in a breath as the intruder pointed an arrow right at his chest. There was no time to think. Solki grabbed a stool and hurled it. Arra screamed. The arrow whizzed past Solki’s face and clattered off the stone of the hearth. The stool hit the intruder in the chest and he stumbled back out the door. He dropped the bow and landed on his back with a growl. His eyes burned with rage, and he whipped out a blade. It flashed orange in the firelight.
Solki’s knees started knocking together. He waved his hand back to his family and cried, “Stay there!”
The intruder came back into the house. Solki stood between him and his screaming family, holding out his small hunting knife. Several horses thundered past the door, kicking up snow. Those creatures meant one thing; the Haelde had come. The intruder leveled the point of the blade at Solki’s throat. Solki could do nothing but back away from it. As the warrior passed the table, he picked up a stool of his own and slammed it into Solki’s stomach. Solki gasped. He reeled backwards, and his head smashed against the stone of the hearth with a sickening thunk. He hit the floor curled up on his side, clutching his stomach and head. The fire breathed heat onto the back of his neck, and the air smelled of ash. In his swimming vision, he caught a glimpse of his family huddled in the corner. He tried to rise, but the intruder kicked him in the ribs and flipped him onto his back. The blade was raised to plunge into his chest. Solki shrieked and flailed wildly. His knee struck the attacker’s heel and swept him off his feet. There was a loud crack as the blade hilt struck the floor. Whimpering, Solki dragged himself up. The bubbling stew in the hearth was fixed in his sights. The man caught his leg. Solki grasped the burning rim of the pot. With a yell, he tore it out of the hearth and hurled it and its scalding contents into the attacker’s face.