Firmament

By Phyllis Davidson

Feet may be rooted on the ground, but the head, heart and imagination often turn to the sky. Cloud shadows on the hillside bring fantastic possibilities to the fanciful heart, and so it is with these collections of short stories and novellas.
There were once giants in the land. What happened to them, and what does it have to do with the sky?
Stars are incredibly far away, but can we devise a way to get there?
Can we learn enough about physics to disappear in the light from heaven ?
The wind wafts through the sky. Where does it go, and where does it come from?
These are some of the questions posed by the stories in this book of marvels and fantasy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781493185696

Phyllis Davidson

Phyllis Davidson is a retired teacher and reading specialist. She has been published in several anthologies and is a long time member of the Idaho Writers’ League, a group devoting time and effort to help writers improve and refine the story teller’s craft. She has watched with delight as her grandchildren have developed fascination in modern fantasy and have developed lists of favorite authors. They share their enthusiasm for certain book series with her, and she introduces new writers to them. She lives in Pocatello Idaho. She enjoys the company of two cats and spends much time arguing with her computer, the devil in her life.

Book preview

Copyright © 2014 by Phyllis Davidson.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduces, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical or electronic—without written permission of both publisher and author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and review and educational uses. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

This is a work of fiction and, as such, it is a product of the author’s imagination. All names of characters appearing in these pages are fictitious except for those of public figures. Any similarities of characters to real persons, whether living or dead, excepting public figures, are coincidental. Any resemblance of incidents portrayed in this book to actual events, other than public events, is likewise coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 03/27/2014

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris LLC

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

541782

Contents

Sky God

Frogs On A Lily Pad

Ghost Horse

Starlover

The Welcome

Sunray, Moonbeam

Dedicated to Trent and Alan

For whose sake I wandered into the world of J. R. R. Tolkien and found that my childhood love of fairy tales could carry over to adult fantasy.

When I first read the books by J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings series, to my two youngest sons, I was enthralled by the story, and by extension, the genre of the work. As I read more widely in the field, it sparked by own imagination and inspired me try my hand at writing my own fantasies. This book is the result of my efforts. I hope those of you who also like these kinds of tales will enjoy this book as much I did writing them.

Sky God

Chapter 1

Black cape fluttering like raven wings, a figure breasted the side of the hill beside the lake at twilight. He slipped and slid down the slope to the valley floor and hastened along the river bank with the stumbling steps of panic.

From the top of a hill across the valley, the young giant sprang to his feet and climbed on top of a boulder, peering into the gloom. Here was a new thing in his world. He had not seen another person in his valley since his old nurse died twenty summers ago.

From the vantage of the rock, he saw the cattails and jointed grass in the lake at the mouth of the river sway against the wind and current and the water rise and swirl in sudden confusion. He noted it and stored it in the back of his mind, for he was bemused by the creature rushing beside the river. The walker used long-fingered hands to push back the black cape hood, uncovering dark hair that stirred around the head in the evening breeze. A black beard thinly covered the chin and cheeks. The giant realized the figure must be male, like him.

The giant leaped from the rock and raced down into the scrub pines at the timberline, stumbling over roots and rocks and lurching through the underbrush in his haste. But when he reached the maples and aspens on the valley floor, he slowed to a walk. He saw the dark form stop, head turning from side to side, listening. Several times the figure whirled around, peering into the darkness gathering under the trees. The giant sensed the fear, though nothing seemed amiss. Pausing when he reached the willows by the river edge, he saw the dark figure was short, would only reach about to his waist. The giant kept pace on the far side of the river, stepping softly through the trees.

Finally when the stars were bright against the night sky, the man stopped his flight. He pushed dried brush and twigs against a pile of stones and lit a fire, then collapsed onto a log of driftwood and fed sticks into the flames. He began to make a sound. It was pleasant, but sad, and reminded the giant of a bird song, yet deeper and more varied. A strange sensation filled his throat and noise burst from him as the giant strained to match the tone. The sound choked off and the walker sprang to his feet.

Who’s there? Dark eyes peered into the gloom across the river.

The giant stepped out from the tree shadows. The voice was deep and pleasant, though the giant wondered why it trembled. Still he was wild to hear it again.

This is my valley, The giant pitched his voice to carry across the gurgle of the stream. What are you?

I’m a… a man. But what are you? The bulk of the giant against the trees was darkly outlined by the flames. The man clutched something inside his cloak as he moved behind the fire and pressed his back against a large rock.

I am… myself. The giant realized he had no words to explain himself. May I join you?

What color are you? Something metal gleamed in the man’s hand.

Color? The giant raised his hand before his eyes. In the dark it looked black. He laughed.

I am the color of the earth and seasons: pale in winter, red in summer, brown the rest of the time. If I come over to your fire, you can decide for yourself if my color pleases you.

The man relaxed his shoulders and stepped away from the rock. Come over, he said. Step slowly.

The giant waded across the river and stopped by the fire. The man stared up at him.

You’re a giant. How can that be? I’ve never… He stopped as the cattails on the riverbank began swishing.

A loud snort came from the river and the giant remembered the rising water. What follows you? It left the lake and started up the river shortly after you entered the valley.

A pained look crossed the man’s face, but before he could answer, the river rose up in a great wave. A long black tentacle slithered out of the river onto the bank and curled around the man’s leg. At the same time, a round black head reared above the surface of the water.

Watch the head! the man cried, and hacked with a blade at the black coil as it began to pull him into the reeds.

The giant plunged into the water and clasped his hands around the undulating neck. The head strained back to strike with red dripping fangs and the creature looped a coil of its body around the giant’s chest. The beast reared its head back and tore one of the giant’s hands loose. It pinned the giant’s one arm to his side and tried to slide beneath the surface of the water with both the man and the giant. But the man cut his leg free and the giant planted his feet in the riverbed. He curled the fingers of his free hand deep into the flesh below the twisting head.

The man thrashed through the waves, dodging the writhing coils that lashed the water, and plunged his blade into the neck between the scales below the giant’s hand. A long red forked tongue flicked at him, but the man brought his blade down and with a sweep of the knife, the head flew off. It bobbed along the top of the water as the river carried it out of the firelight.

The giant dragged the slippery body to the shore where he stretched it out on the sand. They both knelt beside it, panting. The giant looked anxiously at the man. Are you well? he gasped.

Battered, the man said. My leg. He rubbed at a dark red lesion below the torn edge of his trousers. How about you?

The giant glanced down at his bare chest. I am bruised also, but not broken.

The two sat staring at the long black shape in the sand. The man groaned and pointed to a red pattern that ran the length of the body. This is what chases me, he said. This snake and all the others. They want my brother’s name back. He dug his nails into his forehead as he covered his eyes.

Your brother? the giant whispered. He picked up the log and threw it on the fire. He said aloud. But what am I to call you? Is your name Man?

No. My name is Lumis, of the village of Tarish.

The giant nodded. So, there are others like you. And you have a brother? Have you seen others like me? It was a sudden thought to the giant. He waited breathless for the answer.

No, I’ve never seen anyone as big as you. You’re a giant, a character in a child’s tale. Lumis was apologetic. That’s why I was so amazed, and… and frightened when I first saw you across the river.

Ah, the giant sighed. He wrinkled his nose. This thing stinks. It offends my whole valley. I must bury it. He wrenched an unburned branch from the log in the fire and began to gouge at the dirt at the foot of the hill. Lumis found a stout stick and joined him. Together they dragged the length of the snake to the trench and pushed dirt over the carcass.

You say you are pursued by other creatures? The giant asked the man as he brushed soil from his hands.

Three. He shuddered. The cat was terrible. He stretched out his arm and displayed a scar that stretched from his shoulder to his wrist.

Will there be more attacks? Do we need to find a more defensible battleground?

We? This isn’t your quarrel. You don’t know what’s coming. Lumis turned his back to the fire and stared up the mountainside, his eyes glittering as he searched the slope. Why do you want to help me? You don’t know my story. You may join my enemy when you know what I’ve done. He turned back and squatted by the fire. But I think there will be no more attacks tonight. At least, there’s only been one at a time. I thank you for your help.

The giant knelt on the sand beside the man. He was silent a moment, then said, But why did you leave your village? Why does your brother not accompany you? What have you done that I would reject you?

I’m just a farmer. My brother’s dead. That’s a story you don’t want to hear at night. Best to tell it by daylight.

The giant stirred at the ashes and the man sat up and leaned back against the rock. What about you. Where did you come from? Have you a name? Lumis spread his cloak around his legs and stared expectantly at the giant. You said this is your valley. If so, you must have a house or something nearby.

I do, the giant nodded, but tonight we will stay here together to ward against more assaults. I would not willingly lead such creatures to my dwelling.

Lumis winced. I’m sorry. I told you it wasn’t your fight.

You did. But I chose otherwise. I will stay with you tonight, and perhaps tomorrow you will visit my home.

What about my other questions? At least tell me your name.

The giant shook his head. Tomorrow, he said. Tonight I am weary. You have given me much to think about, and I believe I need to hear the full story. For now, let us sleep.

Lumis pulled his hood over his head and slumped within his cloak. He closed his eyes against the jumping flames and dozed fitfully, starting awake at every night noise. Each time he roused from uneasy rest, he was comforted in the night by the giant’s bulk.

Chapter 2

The aroma of cooking fish tickled Lumis’s nose and pulled him out of a dim dream. For several minutes he lay savoring the smell while his stomach stirred restlessly. He slightly opened one eye, remembering his strange companion of the night before. The giant sat by a small fire, slowly turning fish laced onto sticks.

By the dawn light, Lumis could see thin, straggly whiskers framing a wide mouth and strong jaw. The nose was sharp and straight. Light brown hair pulled back from his forehead was held by a twisted ring of willow before it fell down below wide shoulders. The large body wore a clout of animal skins, mostly rabbit, Lumis thought, but a raccoon tail hung like a strap across one broad shoulder. Chest, arms and legs were bare, but rough sandals laced to thick ankles protected the broad feet. Despite the huge bulk, Lumis could see no menace in the broad back hunched before him. He threw off his cloak and pulled himself up by the rock against which he had huddled in his sleep.

The giant turned and grinned at him. The fish are ready. Are you ready to eat?

Lumis scrambled over to the fire and accepted one of the spits. As he picked the meat from the bones, he said, I thought for a minute I had dreamed of you. But here you are, even bigger than I judged you in the dark. And with breakfast. Where did you come from?

I live here in this valley?

Who else lives here?

I live alone.

Then there are no other giants here?

No. The giant flung his stick into the fire. Before I tell you about me, we need to address your problem. What is that creature who attacked you? Why are you being pursued? Who are you, and where did you come from? Is it daylight enough for the tale?

Lumis stood, scooped up sand from beside the river and rubbed his hands.

When he did not speak, the giant asked, What about your brother? How did he die?

My brother was killed. People in our village share a belief in a harsh god. My brother and I were just farmers. We knew nothing of gods and didn’t honor their myth. He clutched his cape around his arms and stared into the clear water running over rocks on the bottom of the stream. They killed my brother in the name of their belief.

Ah. The giant was quiet for a moment, then said, But that was their crime. What is yours that you should be so chased?

Lumis turned to him. You said you have a home. May we go there before I tell you the rest of my story? I feel exposed in the open here. I didn’t believe the village superstition, but I have a reason to fear it now.

The giant considered the request for a minute, then heaved himself up to his feet and pointed across the river. We must go up the hillside. He looked down at Lumis as if assessing his ability to make the climb. Finally he nodded and said, The river is easily forded up the bank a bit. It will not top your boots, I think.

As they walked, Lumis said, Do you have a name? What should I call you?

My name. The giant walked several steps then said, My name is a matter for discussion after I consider your story. I cannot tell you now.

The giant easily splashed through the river with a few steps, but Lumis placed his feet carefully on the slick rocks, frowning when the water flooded his boots. The giant was an uncertain judge when it involved smaller persons, he decided. From the river, they angled across the hillside into a thick stand of trees and began to climb a narrow path.

Tell me about your brother. Why was he slain? the giant asked.

There’s a stone obelisk by the village. It’s a black rock with deep runes cut into a flat side. The villagers have made the stone into a shrine to the God Zephon. They claim he rules the winds and rains and all growing things on earth. The god dies when the leaves fall and is reborn each year when the fields are plowed.

The path they followed turned out of the trees and climbed steeply uphill. Lumis stopped talking and concentrated on breathing as he followed the giant’s back.

But what does this have to do with your brother and your crime? the giant called back over his shoulder.

Do we have much further? Lumis panted. Last night’s struggle has tired me more than I thought.

The giant turned around. Would you like me to carry you? We must go around that outcropping of rocks on the shoulder of the hill ahead. My home is on the other side.

Lumis peered up the path and shook his head. No, I think I can walk, but not talk at the same time. I’ll tell you all when we can sit down.

The giant nodded and led the way toward the rocks. As they rounded the hillside, a large grove of willow trees lined the sides of a fault shelf in the hillside. The giant drew aside a thick fall of willow limbs and gestured for Lumis to enter the large opening into what Lumis first thought was a cave. As he walked through the doorway and looked around, he realized his mistake. The large single room was domed with interwoven branches. The light was dim and slightly green, and the air was fresh. He was in a house of trees, the limbs woven and secured to the ground to make walls, some parted to make windows.

Lumis laughed and pointed to the ceiling. It’ll soon be fall, he said. What happens when the branches lose their leaves? Do you have a winter home, also?

No. The giant entered behind him and let the branches fall closed. This is all the home I have. The tree limbs above are thickly woven. He looked up. No rain or snow ever enters here. But here are places to sit. He motioned to tufts thickly padded with grass. I will fetch some drink after our climb, and you may speak of your brother.

He dipped a baked clay cup into a deep roughly shaped bowl and handed it dripping with water to Lumis. As he tipped his head and drank deeply, Lumis sighed and wiped his tongue across his lips, relishing the faint tangy taste of the clay. He swished the water dregs around the side of the cup and hunched over his knees.

My brother and I didn’t believe. We were not stone worshipers. But that didn’t stop them. They still… He abruptly drained the cup. They killed him, anyway.

The giant took the cup and refilled it. Why? he asked as he handed Lumis the drink.

I was gone. Hunting. They drew his name. This god. He collects names. He uses human names as the building stones for his heavenly palace. Once each five years the village gives one person’s name to the god. They beat my brother with whips. These whips—they’re imbedded with slivers of glass, metal shavings, pieces of bone. They cut his skin, not deep enough to kill, but enough that eventually he bled to death. That is the way of the sacrifice. The blood and death seals the gift. They believe that the rite flatters the god into making the ground fertile.

The giant lowered himself down onto another long grass-padded bench. That sounds like a long, painful death. I am sorry. But what was your crime?

Lumis studied the water in his cup. Once the name is given, it can never again be spoken aloud. It is sacred to the God. Even other people who share the same name must change it to something else. When I returned and learned what had happened, I went mad. I ran through the town, crying his name. I took back my brother’s name from the god. That was my crime. Now the village will have no rain and the harvest will fail, or so they believe. They drove me from the village.

Does the gangrel creature in the river come from your village? If so, how did it come into my lake? The giant’s frown was puzzled.

No, not from the villagers. Lumis shook his head. I think the creatures must come from the black rock itself. It must have some power, whatever I once thought. I’ve been running to escape the beasts ever since the night they drove me out. Somehow they always find me.

The giant stood and began pacing the grassy floor. The earth is good, he finally declared. It takes great power to corrupt the land and animals.

So I always believed, Lumis murmured. He looked up at the giant. That’s my story. What about yours? Have you decided to tell me your name?

The giant stopped pacing and sunk down on the bench. As for my name, I am not sure what it is.

Lumis stared at him. You don’t know your own name?

The giant nodded. I said I was alone here, but I was not always alone, though I remember no other place. I was an infant here, cared for by an old woman I called Ahma.

But what did she call you?

She called me Ab. It is not a proper name. It just means `son.’ I asked her many times about my name, but she said it was safer for me if I never knew it. She took all she knew of my parentage and past with her to the grave.

They sat silently, staring at each other. Finally Lumis asked, How is it you can talk to me? Often I can’t understand the words of the people in the next village, but I can understand you. And you understand me.

I am not ignorant. He pushed aside some long thin twigs and Lumis saw that the branches behind them formed a deep shelf. Books, some large as pasture gates, lined the shelf. Ahma taught me how to read. I have learned much of languages from these books. He ran his fingers across the spines. They contain much. How to bake clay to make pots, smelt metal for tools, sow and harvest crops, spin and weave cloth. They tell of the seasons and the heavens and how people should treat one another. He dropped the shelf cover. They say nothing of where I came from, where other giants might be, nor do they anywhere list my name. He shrugged. So call me what you want. I guess ‘son’ is as good a name as any.

If she called you Ab, I’ll honor her by calling you that, also.

The giant nodded. You said you thought beings such I did not exist. Have you heard of no other place where large people might live?

Lumis gave a short laugh. Not as large as you. But I have not traveled much. Only as far as the closest coastal village.

Oh, well, that is a question for another day. Your problem is more important right now. Let us consider the matter of your brother’s name. He paused. What was his name?

Yarnell, Lumis murmured.

You took it back to deny the god a building brick. That was well done. Abruptly the giant gestured. Come with me.

Lumis followed Ab outside of the tree house. Ab waved his arm over the valley stretching between the mountains. You took the name back. Now I say, give the name away. Let this be the Yarnell Valley. The river where you battled the evil from the stone is the Yarnell River. He plucked a fistful of blooms from a bush growing beside a rock and said, I declare this to be the Yarnell rose and the mountain crag across the way is the Yarnell peak. Ab turned to