Night of Ascendent Light

Reeva looked back in the direction of home and dreamed of joining her younger brothers as they huddled around the stove, the fire inside burning bright against the dark and the cold, but the single rabbit tied to her belt forced her deeper into the woods, even though the snow fell quickly enough to bend the boughs of the trees. She allowed herself one last glance backward toward the village. It looked like it was ablaze, lit by a red-orange glow that seemed to come from everywhere at once. If she looked a little harder, though, she could see that among the reds and oranges there were shades of blue, purple, white, yellow and, adding an odd negative glow to the entire affair, pitch black.

There was nothing like the Night of Ascendent Light.

It was, of course, more than just one night, a weeklong celebration that ended on the longest night of the year, in honor of whichever of the Ascended one most felt akin to. Each night the people would light a candle which burned a different color to represent their chosen Ascended. Green for Xeran, blue for Nautilus, black for the Mason, and so on.

The actual celebrations varied from kingdom to kingdom, and sometimes from region to region within a kingdom, but the consensus was seven nights of food, dancing, and enough ale to satiate one of Nautilus’ armies. Reeva thought most of her village liked the excuse to celebrate more than they did any of the Ascended.

And why should it be any different? What had any of the Ascended done for her and her family? None of them could be bothered to put food on Reeva’s family’s table. None came to restore to Pa the strength he’d once possessed, the strength necessary to support the family.

She forced herself to put the village and the Night of Ascendent Light behind her. She pushed further into the woods, but when she came to another empty trap she cursed her poor luck. Celebrating was all well and good, but rabbit stew wasn’t much to celebrate if it didn’t have any rabbit. Her pa had laid one more trap, right at the edge of the boundary between their woods and the Old Woods. On a better day, she wouldn’t have bothered checking the trap this close to sundown, and never in a storm.

But it wasn’t better days. Not by a long shot. Their food diminished much faster than they could replenish it, and Reeva was the only one with the strength and skill to acquire more.

“One more rabbit and we can call it a stew.” Reeva urged herself onward.

She knew these woods like the back of her hand, but the snow painted the familiar landmarks in a flat shade of white, and the fading gray light did her no favors. She searched for any familiar stone or tree, only to find none, and when she turned to check on the village, the glow was nowhere to be found.

Reeva swore under her breath, but she had a good idea of where she was, so continued on.

She finally found the trap and cursed her luck again when it was empty. She stared at it for a moment, as though a rabbit would appear out of nowhere if she was just a little more patient.

Reeva swore one last time, then said, “Well, nothing for it. Better get home before I miss out on the sweetmeats.”

The wind howled through the trees and the snow fell heavily enough she couldn’t see more than a few dozen paces in front of her. She was forced to follow her own tracks, until they too disappeared. Small worms of panic began wriggling in her chest, but she took some deep breaths. The woods were dangerous, and these parts particularly, but Pa said there was no danger greater than her own fear.

These were her woods. She knew them well, and she had nothing to fear.

Confident that she hadn’t veered off course, Reeva continued forward in the direction she knew to be home. The wind was so strong that even the fat, fluffy snowflakes that were falling from the sky felt like sharp needles against her exposed cheeks. Her well-worn leather boots finally surrendered their fight to the wet snow, and cold water soaked her socks. Each step was harder than the last, and even the thick canopy of trees couldn’t stop the accumulation of snow on the forest floor.

Then she saw a light.

Relief swelled in her heart and she realized just how far she’d let fear bury its roots in her chest. Renewed, she put on a burst of speed and trudged through the snow towards the light of salvation. Small branches clawed at her face, but it was so numb from the lashing of snow and wind, that she didn’t care.

She crashed through the tree line into a clearing with a small fire at its center. She froze as her heart, so recently relieved, pounded in her chest once again. She didn’t know this clearing, but there was no way she had wandered far enough to leave familiar lands. Then she looked back at the fire, and there was a stooped, hooded figure standing beside it.

Reeva was almost certain she’d been alone a moment ago.

The figure was in worse shape than she was. Her cloak was thin and torn, and the person was smaller than her.

"Do you need help?” Reeva asked.

The stooped figured raised her head in surprise, revealing an ancient looking woman. “No, dear, I’m just fine. Please, warm yourself by my fire. That storm must have frozen you close to solid. My name is Gamla.”

The old crone gestured Reeva forward, and she was so cold that her feet moved her toward the warmth of the fire without conscious thought. As she sat on the log closest to the flames, she smelled roasting meat and realized that there was a rabbit cooking over a spit. The drippings sizzled and popped as they hit the fire, causing Reeva’s mouth to water, and her concern over the woman’s well-being abated.

“Don’t worry, dear. The rabbit will be done soon. But what are you doing out here on a night like this?”

“I was checking our traps for rabbits. Not, much luck though.”

She must have been colder than she’d realized. Her thoughts came slow, as if she had to pull them from the mud and wipe them clean before she could make sense of them. It was good she’d stumbled upon this fire.

“So late? And this deep in the woods?” Gamla asked.

Deep? No, she had stayed away from the Old Woods. She was getting desperate, sure, but she wasn’t a fool. “It wasn’t really by choice. Food’s running low, and there’s a lot of winter left. And with the festival being this week, I wanted my brothers to have something resembling a feast.”

Gamla’s grin showed yellowed, crooked teeth, but no malice. “What festival is that, dear?”

Reeva frowned. Who was this old lady that didn’t know something so basic?

“It’s the Night of Ascendent Light, which, despite its name, is a week-long celebration. There’s drinking and food and games. The whole village comes out. Would you like to join us?”

Gamla shook her head without hesitation. “No, girl. I don’t ken much for the Ascended. I prefer my woods.”

Reeva laughed, then looked around, as though an Ascended would choose that moment to suddenly care about her. But that was foolish, and she took courage from Gamla’s casual dismissal of the Ascended. “Our village doesn’t care about the Ascended either, though they’d never say so. The Night of Ascendent Light is just an excuse to celebrate. Ma says that even if we think the Ascended are a crutch that makes city folk soft, that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy all the fun that comes with their big night!”

Reeva grinned at the memory of Ma’s words, but her grin faltered as she took in the strange look on Gamla’s face. “I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t offend.”

Gamla’s expression returned to normal. “No, child. Not at all. I’m just surprised. If you don’t honor the Ascended, who do you worship?”

Reeva made a face. “I’m not sure about worshipping, but my parents say that the old ways are the best. We live close to the Old Woods, and so it provides for us. If we respect it, then it will keep us safe.”

“And does it?”

Reeva thought for a moment. “It’s not always much, but we have food on our tables, clothes on our backs, and a roof over our heads. Could always want more, but we have what we need, so yes, I think so.”

Gamla removed the rabbit from the spit and placed it on a large, metal plate. From there she tore the flesh from the piping hot animal and separated it onto two smaller dishes.

Reeva, finally starting to feel warm again from the fire, heard the wind and snow blowing and looked around the clearing. She hadn’t noticed before, but the ground was clear of snow and none of the wind that was penetrating the much thicker woods bothered her here. Strange.

“Here,” Gamla said, interrupting her reverie and shoving the dish of rabbit into her hands.

“Thank you,” Reeva replied.

The two woman ate in silence, the only sound Gamla’s lips smacking as she devoured her share of the rabbit, licking the juices off of her fingers as if she hadn’t eaten in months. She ate like no one Reeva had ever met, and something about her manner sent a shiver down Reeva’s spine.

She was acting like a fool, though. These woods were no place for an old woman living alone.

“Gamla, I think you should come back to the village with me. This clearing seems protected for now, but the storm is bad and if it turns, you may not be safe here.”

Gamla looked slightly bemused and picked up the rabbit carcass, tearing off one of the legs. The crunch of her teeth through the bone echoed in the night and was quickly followed by her slurping the marrow from her prize. “Your concern for me is kind, Reeva, but I am very safe in these woods. As you said yourself, the Old Woods provide.”

“Are we in the Old Woods? Did I wander that far?”

“You are, my dear, but have no fear. The Old Woods aren’t as frightening as they say. Use your own senses and look around. It’s pleasant, is it not?”

Reeva looked around again and nodded. “Yes, but Pa told me never to wander past the boundary of the Old Woods.”

“Because they’re evil?” Gamla asked, crunching another bone.

Reeva considered, then said, “I don’t think my pa ever called them evil. He said it was an ancient place, and dangerous, and that it demanded our respect.”

Gamla threw the bone she was working on into the fire and smiled. “Your parents seem well versed in the lore of these woods.”

“They are,” Reeva said. “They have to be, living so close.”

“Tell me, child, what do you know of the dangers found in the Old Woods?”

Reeva shivered as the wind howled again. “Shouldn’t we get back to the village? I can tell you on the way.”

“Nonsense, child. We are perfectly safe here.” Gamla paused, as if considering something. “Of course, you can head back now if you want. I’ll even show you the way.”

Reeva’s heart leapt at the thought of going home, but she hesitated. “Will you come with me?”

“No child, I’ve told you I’m fine.”

Reeva desperately wanted to head back, but her family would be disappointed with her if she left an old lady in the woods in a storm like this. Gamla said she was fine, though, so maybe that meant it was alright to leave her? No, sometimes older folks got confused. Her own grandpa used to forget to put on his pants, but he didn’t like to be told what to do, so telling him to put on his pants never worked. It had to be his own idea. Maybe Reeva could help Gamla decide to come to where it was safe on her own.

“Then I suppose I can stay a little longer. I do need to finish my rabbit.”

Gamla smiled at the response, once again showing her sharp teeth.

Sharp?

“So child, tell me, what are the dangers you were warned against?”

“Well, there are bears and wolves, of course. It’s also a dense forest, so it’s harder to keep your bearings. But the most dangerous thing in the Old Woods is the Vallah.”

Gamla’s eyebrows raised. “Vallah?”

“Yes! It’s an ancient being of magic that’s lived in the woods for as long as the world has existed. Some say it’s older than even the first of the Ascended. It stalks the woods, looking for unsuspecting victims to eat.”

“Sounds formidable. What kind of powers does this creature have?”

“No one knows for sure, but many believe that it can manipulate nature the same way that Xeran does, and that within its own woods, it might be even more powerful. It can also change shape and cast spells that can fog your mind, luring you deeper into its lair.”

There was a long pause as the two woman, one old and twisted, one young and pretty, stared at each other. Reeva’s thoughts ran down dark paths.

The fire popped and Reeva jumped.

“You are quite the child, Reeva, and I genuinely appreciate your concern for me. Let me ask, do you know when the Vallah are said to have the most power?”

Reeva shook her head.

“On the longest night of the year. Which happens to be tonight.”

“Tonight? But tonight is the final day of the celebration of the Night of Ascendent Light.”

“That is no coincidence, child. The Ascended fear the power of the ancient things in this world. Not just the Vallah, but other creatures of power that existed in different parts of the world, long before they found their strength. The Ascended would seek to use these celebrations to make people forget that there is power in the old things, in nature itself. It pleases me that you and your village have not forgotten. Now, I believe it is time for you to go home to your family.”

Reeva thought once more about asking Gamla to come with her, but instead she stood, walked over, and gave her a hug. She’d shared a fire and food, and such gifts were not to be accepted lightly. The old woman seemed tiny and frail, like hugging a bag of sticks, and she smelled like something very old, but not altogether unpleasant.

Like something of the earth.

“Go, child, out that way,” Gamla said, pointing, “I think you’ll find you are closer to home than you think.”

Reeva nodded and scampered through the clearing in the direction Gamla pointed. As she left the clearing, the wind and snow picked up again, but not as violently as it had been before. She immediately saw the glow of her village and ran headlong toward it.

Reeva looked back, expecting to see sign of Gamla’s fire, but she saw nothing but dark woods.

As she broke the tree line, Pa was there waiting, leaning his weight against a walking stick Reeva had carved for him a few months back.

“Reeva! You’ve been out too long. We were worried about you.”

Reeva ran to Pa and embraced him. The woods could be frightening, but she always felt safe when she stood next to Pa.

“And I see we had some luck with the traps!” Pa pointed to the side of her hip.

Where four fat, mouth-watering rabbits hung, as though she’d strung them to her belt herself.