The World Tree (WIP title)

Prologue and Chapter 1 - The story begins in Saaremaa, Estonia during the Age of Mythology, and centers around a young man who can see a tree in the sky.

Prologue " Visitors from the Northern Wilds

There are few things worse than waking up before you’re ready.  Kwaku kept his eyes closed and hoped the noise from the birds in the forest would quiet down, but they did not.  Usually he welcomed the sound of his feathered friends; but today the tropical birds had woken him up before the light of the sun, and there was no comfort to be found in their chattering.

“Curse those birds, too eager to start the day before even Nyame is awake.”  He rubbed his eyes awake as he sat up, stretching out his back and legs.

To his side, his wife breathed in deep, revealing she was awake as well.  But she did not open her eyes or move.

“Nobody is ever ready for the day to start.  You just get up and make breakfast for the children because you love your wife who spent the better half of the night caring for your infant child and…”

“Say no more dear one.”  Leaning over, he gave her a kiss on her forehead and stood up, “I don’t need guilt or a lecture from you.  Get back to sleep and I’ll see to the children, then I’ll see what disturbed the birds.”

Out of the south window was the ocean, a cool breeze came in through the window and gave him the refreshment he needed, even though his back still ached from the harvest season.

Exiting his sleeping hut, he walked in the early morning light to the kitchen hut and started grinding millet into flour for koko porridge.  He’d also have to grind the spices, start the fire, and boil it long enough to get it soft before it would be ready to eat.

Thankfully his eldest daughter, Ekua, had awoken and came into the hut.

“Please take over making breakfast, I have to see to the fields.”  Before she could protest, he ran out of the hut and dashed to the groves on the north side of his home.

Walls of woven sticks surrounded his compound of eight huts, but his orchards were open to the earth and sky.  His sweet potato fields were growing nicely, the palm trees were undisturbed in a neat row, and even the plantain groves showed no signs of trouble.

“What startled the birds then?”  The sun had started rising over the river valley to the west.

Soft sounds from a nearby tree drew his attention.  A white-crested hornbill he recognized was picking at its feathers as part of a morning ritual it would often do.  An older bird, he had named it Joker, because the way it would bob its head and fan its tail would always make him laugh.  Oddly Joker was not in his usual plantain tree, but rather in one of the shea nut trees he had been growing on the western side of his home.

“Good morning Joker,” he’d often ask the bird questions, but never receive answers, “You don’t know what the commotion this morning was do you?”

There was a surprisingly knowing look to Joker’s face as the bird turned its head to the north and nodded.  As Kwaku turned to look north, Joker flew away cawing as he went, leaving a light dusting of down feathers in his friend’s face.

Blowing out a mouthful of feathers, Kwaku brushed the remainder away from his cheeks and lips before returning his gaze northward.  On the horizon, he could just barely make out the four small shadows walking towards his home.

As the sun was finally was high enough to illuminate the ground, their details became clearer.  They had been shrouded in darkness, as though they were walking through black sands; but with the sun on them they appeared far fairer and less threatening.  There was something intriguing about them, but caution was better than carelessness.

Returning to his home, he found more of his children were awake and anxiously awaiting the completion of the morning’s porridge.

“Water down the koko.”  Kwaku told Ekua.  “I believe we will be having guests.”  His eldest son Ntikuma came in, bleary eyed from a late night in the village.  Each day he would leave professing his love for a different girl, and each night he would return home saying his heart was broken.  Pushing him away from the hut he pointed to the orchard.  “Go find some ripe fruit and bring it back, enough for your brothers and sisters… and four guests.”

Filling five cups with koko, he walked north to his favorite spot under his finest shea tree and sat down.  Laying the hot morning meal on a large plantain leaf, he waved to the strangers and beckoned them to come over as they approached.  His own stomach rumbled at the smell of the richly spiced millet, with hints of ginger and clove, but he waited for his guests.

Two young men and two young women sat before him.  They looked weary from travel, their cloaks dusted with sand and even small rocks fell from the folds of cloth as they sat down.

What was most surprising was their light skin.  Three of them looked as bright as the sand, with the fourth having the color of a cassava root.  The contrast between their skin and his was startling, and it showed for they seemed more interested in their host than the food.

The darkest youth was also the largest.  He was as large as a man grown, but his face revealed a certain vulnerability and unease, but he did his best to hide his fears.  The other boy looked far more confident, a head of brown hair and eyes the color of rich earth.  There was a strange calm to him, which was odd because he seemed impatient to be somewhere else.

The girls were very peculiar.  One had a light sunburn on her face, which seemed to match her fiery hair and expressions.  She pulled a shield from her back and sat upon it like a cushion.  A fresh scar on her cheek and her watchful eyes revealed her spirited nature.  The last girl seemed to think herself mysterious, keeping the hood of her cloak up, but strands of black hair were still visible along the sides of her face.  Surprisingly, her story was the easiest to read, for Kwaku felt the touch of magic in her.

“I welcome you strangers; you seem to have traveled far.”  Kwaku lifted his cup and motioned for his guests to do the same.  They shook their heads, perhaps they did not understand him.

The smaller woman, no older than his oldest daughter, reached to the ground and lifted four stones that had fallen from their robes.  Rubbing them in her hands, Kwaku was sure he saw a spark fly from her hands.  When she finished, a pebble was dropped on in each of their cups, and they each took a drink.

“My apologies,” the young woman said as she straightened the hood of her robe, “We have had a long journey.”

“Have you now?”  Kwaku asked, “A journey so hard that you feel the need to drink rocks?  That’s a curiosity I cannot simply ignore.”  Drinking his cup of koko, he kept his eyes on them, only blinking when he finished.

“We are just travelers; we’re looking for something and think it might be nearby.  Perhaps you could help us?”  The mysterious girl said, finishing her cup, she placed it back down and turned it around the way it had been facing when it was placed before her.

“No, no.  That won’t do at all.”  Kwaku shook his head, surprising the boys.

“I told you this was going to be trouble.”  The girl with the shield began to shift, but with a wave of his hand Kwaku calmed her.

“What I meant to say is that it is not custom here for you to ask what want from the start " especially when you first meet someone; it is very rude.  Moreover, you have not even introduced yourselves, or told me why you came walking out of the northern… wastes….” Kwaku kept his eye on them at that word, they all seemed surprised.  Sitting back against the tree, Kwaku gave them a knowing smile and exhaled softly.

“Why don’t you start by telling me your story from the beginning?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Saga 1 - Wyrd

Chapter 1 " A House Without Walls

As many times as Vesa looked at the cloud that morning, he was certain that it had not moved from its place in the sky.  It was the last day of summer, and a cool breeze rippled the surface of the lake, and he longed to be out on the waters instead of mending fishing nets.  Despite the weather, the cloud kept its place in the sky, but to him it was only the second most interesting sight in the heavens.

“Come on Mikk, ask him.”  Innar and Vallo had spent most their morning goofing off, as usual, but it now seemed like they were turning their attention to Vesa.  Not missing the opportunity, Mikk dropped his needle and strode over to Vesa, blocking his view of the lake and sunny sky.

“So Vesa, tell me about the tree.”  Reaching out his massive hand, Mikk shoved Vesa’s shoulder and laughed.  But Vesa was ready for it and simply let himself fall over backwards.  The boys all got their laugh, but at least he didn’t have to look at Mikk as the sky was again open to his view.

The constant teasing of others in his childhood had made him self-conscious about being able to see the giant branches and boughs of a tree in the sky, as though the ground on which he stood was nestled in the branches.  Perhaps that is why he always felt that his reality was a bit different from others.  The impression of a massive tree of soft muted blue constantly before him, he had come to see other things as small and trivial.  So even the presence of a bully, or a cloud that refused to move with the wind seemed like little things.

Today the tree looked in good shape.  He was never quite sure what kind of tree it was though.  The leaves were not distinctly oak, and they were leaves to it wasn’t an evergreen.  It changed with the seasons, on rainy days he could swear drops of water poured through the branches.  Though he had been mocked for saying he saw a tree in the sky, and isolated from others, he did not feel lonely.  Every day was as a summer sitting under its restful shade.

“Ilmapuu, the world tree, looks well tokay; thank you for asking Mikk.”  Sitting back onto his stool, Vesa picked up his net needle and went back to his task of mending the broken fishing nets which had been brought off the boat the other day.  Mikk and the others took the time to laugh before Innar’s father boxed their ears and sent them all back to work.

Truth be told he wanted to be out on the lake today, but his father had taken on his friend Kalju as a helper recently and insisted that he needed to practice getting used to being out on the water.  For some reason Kalju had never seemed to find his stride with any other trade in the village; whether it was as a logger, a craftsman, or working at the shipyard.  It might have been Kalju’s problem with speaking, but he had yet to find a calling in the village; so, when Vesa’s father said he was taking Kalju under his wing he had been happy for his friend.

Threading the needle through a tear, Vesa quickly helped reshape the diamond pattern in the net and tie all the loose ends together before cutting off the extra thread with his knife.  This net had been giving them trouble of late.  A single mistake in the intricate pattern of knots when it was first tied was ignored and was causing other knots to warp out of place.  But it still worked for the most part, only needing a little more effort than the others to use properly.  While the flaws made it impossible to catch the smaller fish in the lake, which could wiggle their way through the gaps, larger fish and even eels would struggle against the knots and make it stronger against them in the process.

Finishing up with his net, Vesa stood up and looked out onto the lake, hoping to get a sight of his father’s boat.  From his angle, he could barely see past the grass sticking up through the shallows.

“I wonder if there are trees that grow out of the ocean like that?”  Vesa mused to himself, sometimes he wondered about the world outside of the village.  He laughed and realized he had been listening to too many of Alvar’s stories recently.

After finding no sign his father’s boat, he figured they were on the northern side of the lake.  Having finished his work, he put the net back on the fence along the side of the road and made his way east to the Nasva river and towards home.

‘Need to check one thing first.’ Vesa smiled as he thought to himself.  Looking up in the sky he found the cloud had kept its place in the sky, and hadn’t even changed shape at all.  Other clouds had come and gone as summer storms were likely blowing east towards mainland Estonia, but that one had stayed with him all morning.  It was comforting and unsettling at the same time, and Vesa found himself appreciating the duality.

As a child, most summer days were spent playing along the banks of the Nasva river, at the time it was the only river he had known.  Just last year he had set himself a challenge to run along both banks of the river twenty times in a day, and he was surprised at just how much time was left in the day after he had finished.

He remembered a trip to the nearby town of Kuressaare in the east and encountered the Põduste river.  While not nearly as wide as the Nasva, he heard that the river extended across nearly half of the island of Saaremaa, and even branched off in several directions.  Since that day, the Nasva had been little more than a stream in his eyes.  The world had grown larger that day, making the world of his childhood imagination seem small and silly in his own eyes.

“Eyes skyward Vesa,” a voice called from the trees above, “You seem a little lost in thought today.”  Sure enough it was Alvar with his blond hair seemingly lost in the sun shining right behind his head.

“Season is going to start changing soon, what better time to be thinking about the big things in life?”  Vesa stepped back as Alvar jumped down from the branches and took his friend by the hand.

“Speaking of big, have you heard tell that the Kalevide was seen on the eastern coast recently?”  His eyes were wide with a mix of optimism and excitement.

“The Giant King of Estonia?  We hear tales of him traveling all the time, but perhaps they’re just tales.”  Vesa shrugged his shoulders and continued walking.

“Hey now, since when did you stop believing stories?  It was only last winter we stayed out in the cold searching for Elves in the forest because it’s harder for them to hide in the snow than with leaves on all the trees and bushes.”

“I’m not trying to doubt the way you see the world Alvar, but…” Vesa paused for a moment trying to find the words he wanted to say, “Does believing in elves and magic and all that make the world seem bigger or smaller?  Just going out and seeing the world for what it is makes our village, our forest, our lakes seem small in comparison.  I’m sure the world is big enough to fit in all the fairies we chased as children, yet somehow it seems like spending all our time running after every fantasy causes us to miss out on seeing the world for what it is.”

Alvar slowed his pace a step behind Vesa and he exhaled as he rested his hands on his hips.  “Let me answer your question with your own logic?”  Touching Vesa on his shoulder, Alvar pointed down to a spot just off the path where a nightjar bird sat in its nest. “If there were a fairy down there next to the bird, would we compare the one to the other?  Or would each be wonderful?”

“I guess you’re right.”  Vesa admitted, “Though you’re still the only person I know who would call the nightjar a beautiful bird.  It is plain at best.”

“All the more reason why I’m right.”  Alvar beamed a smile and slapped Vesa across the back.  “We all see the world differently, and there’s nothing wrong with that.  I bet you’re just worried that when I find some adventure I’ll go off and leave you behind.”

“Knowing you, plans have already been made.”

“I can’t give away all my secrets.”  Alvar’s hands went behind his head, his way of acting aloof when he wanted to say more.  “But you’ve dragged it out of me.  Next spring, we’re going to take a boat north to Hiiumaa.  I was remembering one of father’s old tales, the one about the treasure of Kertell, and I’ve decided that we’re going to be the ones who find it.”

“We’re going after a treasure?  Seems less mystical than your usual quest.  You haven’t given up the thought of finding elves?”

“They’re both hidden, needing to be discovered.  Just because one is something physical, and the other is magical makes no difference.  It’s about finding what nobody else has, having experiences that others will tell stories about.”

Nodding in quiet agreement, they continued along the road until they reached the clearing where Vesa’s family homes were.  The wooden cabin where Vesa lived with his father, mother, and younger sister was built recently by the village’s standards.  Many homes were old and were made of earth and sod instead of wooden logs.  The second home was where Vesa’s mother Eha sat, though it could no longer be called a home.

Years before he was born, it had been the place where she had lived with Vesa’s grandparents.  One night the entire home had collapsed except for the stone hearth, and only she had survived.  The sod growing in the earth kept a faithful outline of the former home, which some found eerie but his mother found it comforting.  These days, Eha spent most of her time here, to the point where they kept most of their furniture outdoors, within the outline of the old home, at least during the summer when it was warm enough.

Alvar quieted down and walked peacefully with Vesa across the glade as they approached.  He was respectful to never make much noise to upset Vesa’s mother, but noise coming from the far side broke their pleasant silence as half the village was assembled in work teams making rope.

Looking around, nervously, Alvar stepped back and waved as he was about to leave.  “I’ll see you later tonight in the square, I’m going to go see what’s happening in the village.” 

With a nod, Alvar departed, leaving Vesa facing the crowd which was hard at work at additional tables which had been set up on the property.  Children were stripping fibers from the inside of willow branches and their older siblings were cleaning the leftover pieces of bark from them.  Everyone else was busy in the process of turning those fibers into strings, chords, and ropes of varying thickness for any use from clothes, to twine, and even rope for boats.

At one of the tables Vesa found his sister, Leelo sitting with old Vanaema Videvik, the village grandmother whom nobody in the village could remember if she was related to anyone or if she just showed up years ago and it was taken for granted that she was everybody’s grandmother.  Before going to the bench, Vesa walked up to his mother, who was looking at the fire and slowly rocking in her chair.

“She seemed much better today dear.”  Videvik called from the table.  “Actually helped us stretch out some of the rope strands earlier.  Wore herself out most likely though.”

Her words were a kindness, Vesa knew.  Something about the summer seemed to take the life out of his mother.  The Winter months she was like anybody else, but the summer left her without strength, to the point where she barely responded to anything or anyone.  Still his mother turned her head to Vesa and smiled softly before her attention went to the barely started needlework that sat in her lap.

Taking a seat on the bench, Vesa moved a length of newly formed rope and set it aside only to feel some of the oils used to coat and treat the rope had gotten on his hand.  Across the table, Leelo took a moment to smile and wink at him before returning to ask Videvik whatever question come to her mind.

“She’s been doing that most of the morning and is still going strong.”  A strong, feminine voice came from Vesa’s right.

“Lagle, have you been here helping?”  Vesa didn’t look up from the sticks on the table.  Avlar’s sister had an odd way of making him nervous.

“Only a little while, and I spent most of that time going out to help collect branches with everyone else.”  Taking a seat on the bench next to Vesa she sighed as she leaned against the table.  “I envy that you got to spend the morning out by the lake, not stuck in the middle of all the trees out here.”

“You don’t look like you’re doing anything now.  So why haven’t you left yet?”

“And miss out on all the gossip?”  Lagle rarely used sarcasm, but she made it painfully obvious when she did.  “There’s been talk about strangers in the forest, running off and disappearing in the trees.  Women have been seen in other villages asking around about a baby made of wood.  Some people say that stars in the sky have been moving.  One thing that everyone seems to agree on though is the cloud that hasn’t moved in days.”

“I’ve seen that one.” Vesa nodded and finally turned to her.  Lagle was no frail young woman.  Nearly as big as he was, with wavy brown hair just a shade from being red, her childhood dream of being a shieldmaiden to some great noble lord was still clearly a possibility considering her strength.  Yet it was her eyes that always made him nervous, she was always so observant and remembered every detail she saw.

“Some of the old ones have been saying it’s some sort of sign.  Apparently once three impossible things have happened, the world is supposed to turn upside down or something.  So, everyone has been speculating about what the other two things are supposed to be, but this is just a quiet fishing village where nothing ever happens.”

With a shrug, Lagle rested her hand against her chin, and started to daze off as Vesa helped with a team stretching out newly formed ropes.  Nearly falling asleep from boredom, Lagle tore a chunk free from a loaf of bread on the table before sitting up straight.

“I thought I saw Alvar come with you.  Where did he get himself to this time?”  Lagle asked between bites.

“Said he was going back to the lake to wait on Kalju or help out, I don’t remember.”  Vesa lied, remembering how strangely nervous Alvar had been.  While Vesa did not share Alvar’s enthusiasm for chasing faeries, Lagle was nearly hostile to what she felt was her brother’s way of wasting time.

“It’s just that my brother spends entirely too much time search for elves and faeries.  If he spent half the time learning plants and tracks and animals, as he did arranging mushroom circles, he’d be the best hunter in-” Nearby, a flock of birds flew up in the air, interrupting Lagle, as a small thud was heard in the distance.  The sound repeated itself, and grew louder as it seemed to approach the glade.

Vesa’s eyes peered through the trees, and he shook his head in disbelief.  It looked as though two trees were walking through the forest directly towards them.  As his vision adjusted to the shade between the branches, it was clear that it was not trees, but the silhouette of a person walking towards them.  And the word formed on his lips, coming out as a whisper that could not be heard over the noise of the footsteps.

“Giant.”

The footsteps ended just short of the clearing and peeking above the tops of the trees was the giant’s head.  Handsome features, flowing blond hair, a clean-shaven face, and eyes that revealed a nature both sad and violent.  He began to speak with a voice that did not seem loud, but felt like it could be heard for miles.

“Friends, forgive and forbear my forceful familiarity.
I seek Saaremaa shipwrights said to be seated in the south.”

“And who might you be Giant?”  Videvik took the opportunity to ask before anybody else had the chance to gather their wits.

“Kalevide, King of Estonia; keen and kind to kin, to knaves anger-kindled.”

“Salme.”  Vesa’s mother spoke without raising her head, or even looking in the direction of the giant.  Her voice was soft, and Vesa barely heard it from where he was sitting.  “The shipyards of Salme.”

“To the south-west, you’ll find their docks on the Sorve Peninsula.”  Videvik added.  “But it’s getting late in the day.  Why not rest in our village to the south for tonight and start off tomorrow.”

“Pleasantly planned, perhaps postponing my passage is pragmatic.”

And so, the Kalevide looked to the south and managed to see their village over the tops of the trees and began marching his way southward along the eastern bank of the Nasva as mothers hurried after their children, who were far more interested in the giant than afraid.

“Why did you tell him to go to the village?”  One of the older men sitting nearby questioned Videvik.

“It’s a few hours until sundown.” The old woman answered. “Likely he was going to want to find a place to stay for the night.  So, I decided it was better for us to extend our hospitality than let him impose upon us.”

“King or not, a giant just walked into our lives out of stories.”  A woman said, dropping a length of rope and clutching a child to her breast.  Lagle chuckled and nudged Vesa, who realized that in the woman’s fearful confusion she had failed to grab her own child.

“Well, I’d say that a giant walking out of stories counts as a second impossible thing.”  Lagle smiled as the ground shakes from the Giant’s footsteps finally faded.

“And the day isn’t over yet.”  Vesa looked up to the sky and saw the world tree was still clearly visible in the late afternoon sky, but when he searched for the cloud that had not moved, he noticed that none of the other clouds in the sky seemed to be moving either.

Author's Note

Still just a second draft, plenty of errors and word choices which need improving. Currently in the process of getting Beta Readers. Looking into potential Literary Agents, Editors, Publishing prospects, etc. New to this while process. I have the rest of the book completed, and will give out Beta Copies to anyone interested in giving it a full read. Let me know what you think :)