Just another day aboard the Mystic's Eye ferrying people planning on settling into the new colonies. Treina's husband had gone to Huggar and Varnt word that they had a flat set up and it was allright for her and their son to come. The boy finished his dinner and she shuffled him off to the bed.“Go on then dear!”
“I'm going mum, but I want you to tell me about Varn's herd!”
“I told you that one just last week! Pah, fine then.”
She cleaned him and wrapped him up in his blankets in his bed and sat down to tell him the story again. “Many centuries ago, when the tribes were yet young and still ignorant of each other, the horses had all the plains to ride on. The open continents were their home and their hooves kept the land flat under the stars and sun. They were happy with the world they lived in. The herds all had plenty of grass to eat and shared the lakes with each other.”
She paused, checking to see if she had gotten lucky and if he'd fallen asleep quickly. His attentive eyes indicated no such fortune.
“But Varn was an ambitious stallion. Ever since he was a young colt, he looked upon the snowy mountain-tops far, far away and he did not like them at all. He was certain they hid secrets on the other side, and it made him angry. When Varn became leader of his herd, he demanded they all make the journey to the mountains and ride over them to see what mysteries there were.”
“Some of the herd didn't like this idea. They thought it was silly and a waste of time, that the mountains were not hiders of things. Besides, no one still living in the herd had ever ridden that far before, as there was no reason to. But Varn didn't listen, and he drove off anyone who disagreed, and bullied the rest into following him. So they rode all across the plain, for many days and nights, until they reached a bog stretching out for miles at the base of the great mountains.”
“'Varn! Varn!' they cried, 'we cannot ride through this, as we will surely be stuck in the swamp.' But Varn got very angry at them not listening, so he pushed the loudest into the nearest muck-pit where he struggled and sank. Varn yelled at the others to follow, and they did.”
Her son piped up from his face partially under the covers. “Mum, why was he being mean and so sure there was anything past the mountains?” “Well, when a person gets an idea into their head, dear, it's very difficult to get them to change, and when they're very certain of it, they sometimes stop caring about others and are willing to do bad things to make sure everyone sees that they're right.”
“In any case, Varn and the other horses managed to cross the bog, but it took a long time, and many of the herd got stuck and sank, never to be seen again. But he forced the survivors to trudge on towards the only part of the mountains they could see that would be usable as a pass. The sun watched them for shorter times, letting the stars gradually take over more and more of its vigil. The air was getting colder than they were used to, and the grass was poor.”
“'Varn! Varn!' they cried, 'let us go home! The grass here is not as good for eating, the days shorten as the stars watch us longer, and when the sun does watch us, its breath is cold. Let us go home, where the fields are open, the food is good and the days are long and warm!' 'No! We are almost there, we have reached the deceitful mountain and we will go over it!'
'And so all the others, the old mares and even young colts were pulled along with him as they began climbing the mountain. They ate whatever they could find, which was not much, and became less as they went up the slope. By now, many of the herd had either died or disappeared, but the remainder kept going up with Varn. He blamed all of the suffering of his herd on the hateful mountains and the secrets they jealously kept hidden. Never once did he think that the hurting of his people was his own fault..”
“The mountains themselves stayed quiet as the herd awkwardly rode up their slopes. Gone was the old strength which had thundered across the open fields, now so far away. They were strangers in a strange land, and were unwelcome. The snow brought them no food to eat, the rocks gave them no soft ground to rest upon at night. As the sun went down again, Varn looked behind him, to see none walking behind him, and the long trail of what was once his herd scattered around the trail he'd taken, their eyes closed now, forever sleeping.”
“But Varn kept going, kept alive by his fury at the mountain under his hooves. But even he could not go on forever, and at this height he felt only weakness taking him. He was sure he was at the last rise, if he could just go a little further he would behold all the secrets the evil mountains were trying to hide from him. He could find no good footing, and only slid in the snow as the harsh wind bit him. Finally, he shouted as loud as he could and the last strength went out of his legs as he kicked the ground in front of him. The loose snow gave way, and he tumbled through it to the other side, landing on a small, flat plateau of ice, crackling and groaning under his weight.”
“When it dawned on him he had gone over the mountain, he rose his head and looked out. In front of him, all around, he saw his herd, larger than ever, on their great field again, and saw himself at the head of it, their great body of life thundering across the open meadows. As the vision of what he and they could, what they should, have been, the ground shook and vibrated under him, as the great mountain which he had sought to best, finally broke its silence with a great rumbling voice.”
You, who thought yourself my master!
You, who so foolishly thought I kept secrets from your people!
You, who heard wisdom and did not listen!
You, who never looked at all my gifts!
Our snows fill the rivers when it melts and gives you drink!
Our rocks are the soil upon which you rode!
Look upon all you were supposed to be, and behold the lost destiny of your spirit!
Your heart is colder than the ice you lay upon!
Your mistake has brought ruin to those who believed and followed you!
And here you will stay forever, frozen and forgotten!
“And the mountain finished speaking, and the ice shattered, and Varn fell into the cavern as it filled with snow. He was much too weak to try to escape, and the mountain swallowed up the fallen leader.”
Treina looked at her son, and rolled her eyes as he'd long since fallen asleep. She made sure the blankets had him snug, and got up to seal the exterior shutters around her windows in the hull of the vessel. She frowned a little at her comms acting up, and as she looked out the window, she felt worried about the awful storm hitting the continent. But just before the shutter closed, her eyes were drawn towards an odd pattern of colourful flashing lines in the distance around Matar coming from strangely glinting objects....
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Topic: Varn and his Mountain (Read 1103 times)