The Tree and the Long Grass

The pair were sitting under the branches of a tree, hiding from the mid-afternoon sun. Insects busied themselves in the long grass, occasionally dancing from the path of the small stones being thrown lazily into the air by the boy.

The Tree and the Long Grass

 

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“Many lifetimes have passed since the tales of promise were written. Believed by most, ‘part from the Carasians, to be vastly over exaggerated, even fantastical in places, they do at least offer us some idea of our distant past.

 

“Many, many thousands of years before the first recorded day, by Tomarian standards at least, the world was a very different place. All the peoples of the land fought and enjoyed the pleasures and plundering rights of war. I’m not saying we live in a peaceful world child, but this is nothing compared to what is described in the first Book of Promise. Now, where is it…arh yeah, here we go…

 

            “And so unto this nation, divided under war, the Gods did spake. Take up our hands children and we shall guide you to your promised lives.

 

“Well, basically what happened was that most people didn’t listen. Countless numbers dies when the Gods finally had enough. They killed everyone who didn’t want to listen, see, didn’t have no time for them. The ones that were left they split up amongst the land and declared territories. O’Course those territories have changed a bit by now, but anyway.

 

“As a way of protecting everyone, they sent down the spirits. These little balls of golden light haven’t always been with us, according to the Books of Promise. When they first came on the scene they were nervous, scared of us, kept their distance. After a while though they came closer, chose their favourites, so in time they started communicating with us from time to time, like they do now. That’s why it takes a person a little while before they have a good number of spirits, they need to get to trust us. What else was it the books say? Oh yeah…

 

            “To all a faithful follower, beware those upon which the spirits do not cast their blessing.”

 

“How do you know all this father?” Said the young boy, looking inquisitively up at the man next to him. The pair of them were sitting under the branches of a tree, hiding from the mid-afternoon sun. Insects busied themselves in the long grass, occasionally dancing from the path of the small stones being thrown lazily into the air by the boy.

 

“It’s called education, that thing you’d get if you went to school more often.” The man sighed as he shifted his weight, seemingly relaxed and at ease with life. It was obvious that he was as concerned about his son’s lack of schooling as much as he was concerned about the herd of grazing Mantacor’s, barely visible through the haze a few fields away. He’d never placed much store by schools.

 

“O’course it helps that your mothers Carasian by descent. You pick a lot of it up from her family; really religious people them, just like most folk from Cara’sed. Never believed it much myself, but if it isn’t true, I can’t tell you why the spirits are here or why they help us, guide us or do all the other things they do for us. I just know that they’re a blessing. Oh and pay no attention to that don’t trust those without spirits rubbish. Powerful people they can be, and clever. Good to have around in a pickle I’d wager. Just…” The old man, his grey hair catching the speckled light beaming through the leaves above him, bent closer to his son and whispered “Just don’t tell your mother I said so, eh.”

 

The young boy smiled and turned away from his father to look deeply into the light of one of the more playful of his spirits. It seemed to hang their, almost hovering like a feather on the wind, never falling. Its golden light reflected off the young boys eyes, its bright white centre, no larger than his thumbnail, seemed deeper than the Tomarian Valley, almost as if you were looking into forever.

 

As the boy turned to look at the Mantacor’s in the distance, the spirit, one of eight he had gathered in his 12 years of life, skimmed lightly away through the wind brushed long grass. Disappearing behind a thicker clump no more than legs length away, it picked up one of the small stones and threw it back to the young man, sitting with his father under the branches of a tree, hiding from the mid-afternoon sun.

Author's Note

This was a tester peice I wrote to try out some ideas for the world i created, see the book i'm putting together for more in this world.