Author's Note:
This fanfic is set in the distant past, Tortall. Some content belongs to Tamora Pierce, and other content I have taken liberties with. If you are concerned with what belongs to me and what belongs to Tamora Pierce, please email me at cyclepinsetter@yahoo.com
Yoric's Tale: The Gathering
Three
Snowflakes
fell softly as Yoric rested on a fallen log. The forest
stood silently around him, revealing nothing. He gazed up
at the shower of snowflakes cascading down from above. If
he squinted he could imagine himself shooting through the
heavens, surrounded not by snowflakes, but millions of stars. Was there anything else up there? Maybe, somewhere beyond
those brilliant points of light lies the Realm of the Gods.
Or maybe it was all a bloody dream, something inside him shouted. After all, if they wanted me to come here, why didn't they contact me? Why have I been searching the Grimholds for three months without so much as a sign?
The
snow was beginning to fall more rapidly, and his boots became
buried. He began to shiver as the cold crept through his
skin, chilling him to the bone. He beat his gloved hands
together for warmth and continued up the mountain. His
vision blurred by the snow, he couldn't see two feet in
front of him. He heard a twig snap behind him. Or was
it just his imagination?
Is
anyone there? His voice echoed through the mountains. What am I saying? There's no one here except me. Even the animals have taken shelter. I'm the only one
stupid enough to be out here in the dead of winter searching for
something I will never find.
The
snow was up to his knees now, and he was finding it difficult to
lift his feet. He strained to reach a rocky outcropping and
collapsed in the snow.
And
this is where it ends. He thought to himself. They
won't have long to wait before they find me, first thaw's
a few months away. So cold. There was no possibility
of getting warm again.
His
eyes drifted upwards, to the sky, and the strangest thing
happened. He caught a glitter of crystal from a snowflake
in mid air, drifting above his nose. It was almost as if
the curtain of snow had slowed its descent from air to ground. He noticed the glitter once again. The tiny ice crystals
were suspended in the air. He could notice every fine
detail, every branch of each tiny snowflake.
The
wind had died down. He cleared his throat. There was
no echo. He tried again with the same result.
But his voice was swallowed by the thick air around him. He
turned around sharply.
A
very tall man stood in his path. He appeared to be wearing
only a white tunic and breeches, unaffected by the sub-zero
temperatures
Yoric questioned.
You
are Yoric Swiftfoot of Clan Conte. This was not a
question. His voice was deep and his words were clear. Yoric nodded anyway.
You
have traveled a great distance from your home. For this I
thank you. Do you know why I have asked you to come?
Yoric
shook his head.
Follow
me. But before Yoric could reply, they were standing
at the peak of the snow-covered mountain. Yoric blinked at
the harsh light from the sun, no longer hidden by thick trees and
shrubs.
This
is your world. The man gestured across the snow-covered
landscape. The snow blankets the land, and the world
slips into a frozen despair. Plant life dies, and animal
life sleeps. Our people are facing a great peril. The
land is shrouded in a darkness, far colder than the deepest of
winters. They eagerly await spring.
Yoric
stood, looking out over the landscape, lost in his thoughts for a
moment. He finally found his voice to speak.
What
can I do? I am only one man. Even if I knew how to
vanquish the darkness, who would follow a nobody from a mountain
clan?
You
don't know yourself very well, Yoric. You are only
skimming the surface.
Why
not ask Ethan to do it? He's the Headsman. And I'm
sure he wouldn't turn down your request. And this
stuff is his kind of thing, being the hero and stuff. I'm
just in this so my mother won't starve to death. He blinked and realized that he was standing alone. Yoric
scowled. Yeah, go away and let me die in peace. He shivered as the snow slowly started to fall again.
But
as long as our people remain islands unto themselves, you will
never die in peace. He heard a woman's voice
this time. She appeared from the snowflakes, and one minute's
empty space was filled by her towering presence. She seemed
to blend in with the snow, and if Yoric unfocused his eyes, he
could swear that she didn't exist at all.
Why
are you people so damned tall? He asked in annoyance
and kicked some snow off the cliff. The woman ignored his
question.
You
must understand. We need your help. She frowned. Most people are wrong about us. We bend our people to
our own will. They must be willing to help us.
I'm
not strong enough. You have the wrong person. He
turned his back.
Her
presence grew stronger. The people you care for your
Mother, your Cousin and your childhood friend. They are all
affected by the wars. The fighting is growing more intense. Yoric turned towards her, but tried to look unconcerned.
Yes,
you do care. Your Cousin is south, fighting clans and
earning more scars. Your mother is growing old. She
is afraid she will not see an end to the fighting. And your
friend the woman frowned.
Worry
not young Yoric. She is safe in our hands. Safe for
now, that is.
Where
is she? Is she here?
The
woman shook her head sadly and seemed to speak to the empty space
in front of her.
Mithros,
he is not willing.
He
is. He just needs time. The man's voice
came from the air. Yoric blinked again and the man appeared
again. I really should stop doing that at critical
moments, Yoric thought to himself.
He
needs focus. The woman argued.
Maybe
so. The man agreed. He swept a hand down into
the snow and began to mold it into a ball. Yoric watched as
the man packed the snow into a tight sphere. Slowly the
snow began to emit light. The man tossed the sparkling
snowball to the woman, who held it in her hand. As she
carefully rotated the ball the white surface broke away,
revealing glittering amethyst crystal beneath. She broke
the sphere into two regular pieces, one she placed one on a chain
and slipped it around his neck, and handed him the other one.
She
handed the jewel-like object to Yoric, who nearly dropped it. It was neither warm from the heat, nor cold from the snow. It
fit perfectly in the palm of his hand.
Bring
this to your Headsman at his most desperate hour, and not a
minute before. She motioned to the one now in his
palm. Then she pointed to both of the jewels. Show
them only to the three people you trust the most.
Yoric
opened his mouth to voice one of the many questions on his mind
at the moment, but they were gone, and he stood at the base of
the mountain.