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Fictional Fairy Tale on the birth of Sable |
Enchantment of Sable Sable lived in a village of medium stature along the banks of the river Nebu, within the edges of the great Derevo Vlasti, which is more commonly the forest of Shinstrove by most tongues in this age of man. Sable’s father, a farmer of small matter upon the world, yet of great and true courage and strength, had passed away when his son had been a mere babe, having seen but one summer. It seemed the circumstances of his demise were fraught with dark devices and evil influences. Life for the young mother and her son had soon become of extreme difficulty, pressing upon the unfortunate lady’s nerves, strength and will until the day came that she was forced to take another man unto herself. She felt pressed to break the mourning that plagued her world, so as to save her young child’s life. This day came after four long terrible years of struggle and suffering. For the past four years, every day since the untimely demise of her beloved husband, a line of suitors had grown, for she possessed a beauty that was said to be unrivalled in all the seven counties. Every eve and morn had the suitors knelt at her doorstep pleading that she wed them. So it was a long line that grew from the small house upon the day set as her day of choosing. A task was set for the suitors to complete so that such a group could be sifted away to reveal the one who could support her and love her as she wished to be. Many great tales have been told of the adventures and deeds that befell those who answered the call of the Task, though they have no place within this story. More needful to be told, however, is the fact that one such person prevailed and succeeded in achieving the prize, which was given to him full heartedly. For a time, life was good in that small village house for the young boy and his parent. His father loved him as he would have loved a son of his own. Sable no longer was forced to help in the duties of the land so that he and his mother should survive, Instead the great man who had become his father reaped harvests upon their small plot of land that could be sold at market for sums of money unimaginable prior to his arrival, and the family lived well. But fate had yet to twist her final cards to complete the cruel and fatal hand she held. In Sable’s tenth year a strange disease plagued the lands, claiming many lives including the misfortune mother who had strived so hard through her life, providing love and kindness to her son and husband. Though with her final breath she uttered the last plea of a mother: “Please, my love, take care of my son, for he shall become great, and with his name so shall ours live on.” The step father, though bound by promise and personal desire to care for the young boy, could not foresee the dark twists that his future held for him. He began to curse his body with wretched drink, becoming ever deeper of mood and mind. The harvest of the following year was, mainly due to weather, but a meager one when compared to all previous, and the once great man sank further into his black void. His moods could and would swing violently, preventing any chance of prediction, save but a moment in advance. More sadly, he began to beat his step son, accusing him of frailties and claiming to be strengthening the poor soul’s resolve and character, correcting those weaknesses as the blows rained down upon the slight, pale, white back. Furthermore he blamed the innocent child for the death of the woman who had been his wife and the boy’s mother. Sable, now being a sound minded youth of eleven years, remembered the once jolly and hardy man who had been is step father, who had been so kind to him in his childhood. He could not bear to see the monster that held the leather strap wrapped around one tightly clenched fist, with a bottle of some toxic substance gripped within the other. So whenever it appeared that such a mood should be upon his step father, Sable retreated to the wood to rest near the river. Many times did he delve into those deep woods, following the river further, towards the heart of the mighty forest. He forever searched for he know not what. Perhaps a scene of pure beauty, or maybe he unwittingly sought to find his fate. More and more often he traversed through the woods, passing glades and glens untouched by the angry swarms of humankind. But at every evening he would return home, when his step father’s temper may have cooled into drunken merriness, including the occasional song. Though more often the older man would have simply passed out from the quantity of foul liquid he had consumed. Though one day it passed that the boy did not return. Upon this day, the step father had become so violently enraged that Sable feared for his very life, fleeing from the house and well as from the man who stood cursing, and swearing that he would indeed forfeit that very thing should the boy try to return. For a full half day did Sable run. Jumping over streams, or ducking under collapse trees, bounding down gullies, or scrambling up steep banks, Fear slowly ceased to grip his heat as the distance between himself and all that threatened him back in the village increased. Instead it gradually faded into love; a pure love for all the natural beauty that surrounded him, a simple love for the joy of running. So he ran. He ran and he ran until he could run no more. He ran through the hours of light until, realizing he could no longer return upon that day, for he had run too far and the day was now marked by the pastille reds and purples of the setting sun, he lay and slept where he had stopped, upon the hearth of dense grasses. And he slept the sleep of innocents there in that wood, with hardly a dream intruding upon the regenerative slumber. Sable was awoken early next morn by a subtle sound resting on the morning breeze. A sound sweeter than any chorus of birds song he had ever heard. He was enraptured and enchanted by the melodious flowing song, and the beauty of the perfectly flawless notes, which curved through the air to caress his charmed senses. He stood and edged towards the song, following the traces of the notes as they carried along the river, and all the while his heart wept at the singular thought that such a bird should avoid his eyes whilst his ears were so full of joy. Soon his eyes fell upon an open green, which held within its bounds a small log house, no larger in fact than his own humble abode, though, more likely, somewhat smaller. This was encircled by a turn in the river to both edges of the beautiful isle. It sat as a small emerald amidst the ever-flowing crystalline shards of diamond and sapphire, whose surface was marred by but one flaw, and yet it was this flaw, which while she swam and sang in her perfect clear voice, placed the beauty of such a natural jewel at a peak beyond that of mortal comprehension. The waters were deeper than they had been up until this turn, but the small girl glided through them with perfect ease, her long golden hair swaying behind her as the fast river current swept it. Her face was graced by two perfect elements of blue fire, and round subtle amethyst lips that belied her age as something more, though she was but the same age as the young boy who stood transfixed at the side of the river. It seemed to Sable that this must be a woodland spirit or nymph, or possibly a divine angel, for it was from this glorious being that the enchanting song emerged. He all but tripped over himself in the amazement that flooded his mind. How could a girl live here so deep in the woods? Did she live by herself? Why did her voice enchant him so? He decided to move closer to the edge so as to see more clearly the young beauty, but as he did so he laid his foot upon a twig too heavily that it broke in two and gave a sharp crack that broke through the song. Birds flew from their perches and suddenly the woods were filled with silence as the young girl cast a glance of pure terror at her surroundings, before she hastily made for the safety of her wooden hut. Sable was mortified. He could not understand how it was that such a girl should fear him and he became saddened to his very soul that it should be so, and that this should be their final meeting. He sat in utter misery, until finally he decided that this would not be the case. He would remain here, hoping that another chance would arise to speak to her, and that should it be so he would take it. This chance, however, did not come within the first few hours, nor did it come within the next. A whole day passed and not a soul ventured from the small house. So, as the day darkened into deep dusk, Sable collapsed into a heart broken slumber, hungry and weary. The next day he was once again roused by the silky caress of the same sweet melody from the day before. Once more the young girl bathed in the cool peaceful flow of the bed, and once more Sable felt the enchantment of the beautiful voice, as well as of the young creature who possessed it. “Please,” he called. “Please do not go again. I have waited one hungry day and one clod night so as to hear your heavenly voice. I beg you stay, and allow me to do so, so that I might listen. Or perhaps we may talk for I simply crave for the tender feeling of your voice upon my ears.” The young girl, who, at the sound of Sable’s voice, had started once again for the safety of her hut, now stood sudden upon the green isle, close to the river, paused by the unexpected plea. She turned her mesmerizing gaze in the direction of Sable’s voice. “You must go, my unknown friend,” she cried imploringly. “I am cursed as is this land. If you should try to come but a step further the witched black magics would envelop you, overpowering your body and consuming your soul. You would be sure to die, whilst I remain watching but a stone’s throw in distance from you, and yet in utter helplessness.” “How can this be? Why would such a misfortune befall such a gifted child?” A single tear rolled gently down her pale cheek, and upon reaching the point of her chin rested momentarily before falling to the earth. As it touched the ground a slight note arose from that very spot. This note held on the fresh morning air, and soon was taken up within the chest of the girl. It seemed to hold all the contents of this world and more within itself. It was a single perfect note that could not be played by any instrument of mortal design. She used this divine note to create the beginning of a sad melody, which began to paint and ever-clarifying picture of her life. This masterpiece filled Sable’s mind to all extremes and seemed to him a picture greater than any piece of the renowned masters. Though there were no words the tune held all the notes that were needed to express the troubles and the horrors her short life had overcome. The high spires of a castle grew, whilst within them a grand fire burnt and her fallen father lying beside it. He knew of the black-hearted witch and the jealousy she held for her niece. “Go now!” wept the young girl as the last few notes faded into oblivion. “I cannot go now or ever if I should not find out one thing. Grant me the request that I should know the name of the girl to whom I have lost my heart.” “My name is Cerrena, but that is of no consequence. Please, go!” “You are wrong, I shall not forget you Cerrena, and I shall return.” The girl turned her back on Sable and began to move towards her hut. “You are wrong,” she said in a hushed voice. “Before you have passed but ten paces, your memory will fail you.” Sable moved from the glade. His mind whirled from the experience he had just had, swirling in utter confusion at it and, most of all at the final words spoken to him. As he walked he tried to discern their meaning. How could he ever forget the girl he had just met? By two steps he was simply trying to remember the pale melody. By five, he could not recall the face of the young girl, but by the sixth it did not seem to press upon him as important to do so, and by the tenth step his mind no longer wished to search the confusing blank void that had settled in his past, but instead focused its attention towards the future. So, thinking of the village that lay so far to his front, he set off back along the stream. Once again he started to run, this time with joy, though he knew not why, frolicking in the shards of sunlight that splintered through the trees. However, he had passed but five hundred pace when he heard a shrill cry arise from the forest, deeper into the forest away from the river. He stopped where he had heard the cry and waited a few moments. Once again the cry rose up, sounding more like a baby’s plea for attention than any woodland call. Realising that this cry resounded close to his right, Sable leapt through the undergrowth in the direction of the call. Soon a lone wolf came into view. He was huge in size and wore a motley grey, shaggy pelt that was clotted with the crimson-brown hue of recently spilled blood. The wolf lay in struck resolve as to his fate, but as Sable approached, he raised his head and looked imploringly at the boy through blue human-like eyes. The howl had drained away at the sight of the young boy and had instead been replaced by a pitiful whimper. Sable at once noticed that the wolf was held in place by a trap that woodsmen used in order to catch such creatures as he. It seemed that the wolf must have struggled to get free once ensnared, but such was the design of these traps that to do so would have simply caused the snare to tighten, cutting into the flesh. Sable could not bear to see such a great creature reduced to nothing, for he knew that to be found trapped in the bindings of such a trap would mean the death sentence for the wolf. He walked towards the suffering animal, and, all the while looking into his eyes, stroked the massive head to calm him. An idea came to him in an instant, and he gathered together a small pile of sticks and grass. He searched the ground until he found a small flint stone and struck it against his belt buckle. He knew that his step father would surely take his hide for the destruction of this belt buckle, but as to that he did not care. It was better his hide than that of the wolf. Soon a small blaze was cultured and Sable was able to burn away the constraining ropes and netting. The wolf sprang up and headed away into the woods, the cuts from the bindings not appearing to have injured him to any great deal. But before disappearing, he turned and looked into his saviour’s eyes. -As you have done me a kind turn, so shall I in time return it. One day you shall be in need and I shall help you in remembrance of this day, and of my new life, Sable- As the wolf bounded off through the woods, Sable was left in silent wonder. Had he heard those words, or was his boyish fantasy playing what he would have liked to hear? The answer he could not fathom, and so decided upon his return home. He finally returned home to find an elderly man sat upon the doorstep. As Sable approached he stood and clasped the young boy in a wiry grip then proceeded to relate a story, which seemed to carry no sense in its words. He told that the step-father had cast off his clothes in a miserable rage, and ran through the streets, cursing all who lived in the village, until he had finally thrown himself into the river, taking his own life, preying all the while that he should meet his lost love in his next one. The old man, it turned out, was the uncle of his dead mother and had been called for over a month ago by concerned neighbours, to come for the young boy and save him from the wrath of the violent drunkard his step-father had become. Unfortunately he had arrived a day too late to save the poor man, but still he could care for Sable, his nephew. And so they travelled together, after but a little preparation, to the border town of Rissling, far from the Great Forest. * * * Ten years had passed in the great city of spires, whose governess ruled with an iron fist, and the boy Sable had grown into a man. These ten years had been filled with many adventures for the boy whose gradual change into manhood had been viewed with pride by the on-looking unclue. He was now as fine an example of a manas could be found in any of the seven counties, befriended by many men, yearned for by all women, spurned by few and hated by none. Though it must be said that even at the grown ag of twenty years he had as yet never felt the tender caress of any female admirer. For in his heart beat a savage rhythm that he could not understand, and which caused him to reject all thought of such actions. He now worked as a town guard and often had cause to walk amongst those towering spires, in which the icy governess lived. He had not, however, as yet laid eyes upon her. It was, therefore, with much surprise that on one day, more shocking perhaps that it fell upon the tenth anniversary of the death of his step-father, he say a willowy solitary figure, draped completely from head to toe in black spidery lace, making towards his very position. He braced himself to receive her acknowledgement, expecting for certain an order of some manner, lowering his eyes as she neared. Though as the first of the velvet words crept from her mouth he raised his gaze, against the protocol into which he had been thoroughly trained, allowing it to take up that of the governess. At this moment a strange occurrence played out and a small lark burst forth into a weary, beautiful tune that seemd to echo in his ears. His eyes widened as stark recognition filled his senses, completing the memories so long enshrouded by a dark veil. He collapsed there in front of the dark figure and shook terribly as a fit took him, finally coming to rest as black unconsciousness overpowered all his body and mind. When Sable regained consciousness he found he was lying in a dark cell with only a small, barred window, placed high up on the damp stone wall, for his source of light and air. A thick wooden door separated him from the corridor, and, it seemed, from his freedom. He knew immediately that the witch-governess had seen the truth of his realisation reflected in his eyes at the moment of his collapse, and fearing him and all he knew must have cast him into the tower dungeons upon a charge of treason or attempted harm upon her body. Sable, however, possessed much more cunning than the old witch had believed. He, having worked these very same dungeons, knew the guards, their habits and their flaws, and soon was able to break free from his prison. Once gaining his exit onto the streets, Sable began to run. He took al the darkest routes through the night city, though they were often the longest, but before dawn he had made his way through to the outer wall and, as the sun flickered its first delicate rays of light across the golden green pastilles of the fields, he had found a way of the wall and out of the city. Now he headed at pace towards his homelands along the banks of the river Nebu. For three weeks he travelled, most of the time running, spending but small amounts of time eating and sleeping. For this he was forced to rely upon the kindness of the country folk he met upon his path. Finally, he reached the old, unchanged village, but he did not stop his run. He came upon the abandoned, broken down, wooden hut that had once formed the shelter for his existence, but still he did not stop running. He continued to run through the forest, following the route that he remembered so well, though his legs, now fully grown, carried him far swifter than those of the young boy ever had, covering the distance in much less time. He reached the same spot, upon which he had stood so emotionally transfixed, watching the young frail girl as she had glided through the water, so many years before. The same spot where he had first heard the angelic chorus that haunted his every thought at this moment, and everyone before, since the recovery of his lost memories. It seemed that not a thing had changed. The log hut was still sat upon the green isle, its moss sides gleaming as the sun’s rays struck through the tree covering to shimmer on the moist droplets of morning dew. The grass was still lush with green, running straight to the fringe shoreline, upon which it seemed that not a pebble had moved. “Cerrena!” he called. “I have returned as I once said I would” A moments pause caused the severest of pain and anguish to rip through his body, when all of a sudden the door swung away, revealing a sight that induced in him utter amazement. Amidst all the unchanging scenery, he had felt he had expected to see the same occurring with the small frail, blonde haired girl he had seen so long ago. But this, however, was not the case. Stepping into the sunlight was the most beautiful woman that could have graced Sable’s vision. Her long blonde hair glittered in the sunlight as it flowed to her ankles. Her bland cheeks had become full upon high cheek bones, with a strong jaw that help perfectly formed red pouting lips. She had deep blue eyes, the same hue as that of the deep sea, but they were flecked with a lighter turquoise, kin to that found in the shallower tropical seas. She had at first stepped out upon the isle to repeat the same words she had long ago said to the boy, to place upon him once again the light charm she had been forced to use on many since. But she froze where she stood, gazing under her silken brow at the boy who had become a man. At once she was striken with a feeling she had not felt for ten years, a felling of pure and honest love, and could not bear to send this man away from her life again. “Please,” she stuttered, trying to compose herself, knowing what needed to be done. “Please do not come any further. This land is cursed and you endanger your life.” “Icare not for my life, if you should not be in it!” was the replied cry from Sable. And with this he lept from the high bank towards the islands shore. Before be had cleared more than half a stride in the air, something green whipped from the undergrowth and plucked him from the air, wrapping tightly about one arm. As he collided with the groung he pulled at the vine, desperately trying to free himself but it would not give. More vines snaked out, tangling their powerful green fingers about his struggling body. He ripped and bit, but it was to no avail, the might of the supernatural vines, whose veins coursed with vile black magic, were slowly and surely wearing down the man’s strength, gradually crushing the air, and life, from his body. Cerrena lay, collapsed in a ball, weeping into her knees, as the man was crushed in front of her. She looked up and screamed as an even more abhorrent vision had replaced the last. Now a huge wolf crouched over the body of Sable, mauling the remains of her fallen would-be saviour. Cerrena no longer cared for her own life, feeling within herself he love only few have ever felt. She leapt into the water and made as fast as she could towards the bank, trying in vain desperation to reach the scene and put an end to the evil of the occurring atrocities. She pulled her soaking body up the steep bank and searched for anything which might help to save her love. She found up0on the floor a thick limb from a tree and raised break it over te wolf’s skull when the untouched face of Sable appeared in front of her. She threw the stick and grabbed hold of his tunic, dragging him away from the dangerous magical vines, then lay sobbing, Sable’s head cradled in her lap. She sat stroking his hair, her tears fluttering onto his still features, when suddenly his eyes opened wide and his amazed gaze penetrated deep into her soul, calming her entirely. At this moment the wolf landed but a few feet from the couple. Cerrena screamed, but Sable only whispered two short words: “Thank you.” The wolf stared at the two, his teeth bared into what appeared to be a smile. Blood dripped from a long slash running from shoulder to crotch, lined with a tarry black-green substance. The same substance coated his claws and jaw. He turned and left the couple, limping from the vicious wound. The two lovers lay and slept where Cerrena ahd lain Sable, but mere yards from the river, and from where the perilous struggle had ensued. They awoke in the fresh morning air, happy and invigorated. They decided that they should go and start a new life together, somewhere far away, in a village near to where the river Nebu joined with the sea. They started up along the river, delighting in the fact that they should be leaving the cursed place far behind them, and all that had passed the previous day began to drift away from their love-entangled minds. Giggling and laughing, they made for the small village of Sable’s birth, happier than any couple had ever been before them, for theirs was a love that was pure and honest. They walked all day, talking all the while, finally reaching the old hut that lay at the edges of the village as the evening was turning to dusk. To Sable’s surprise, in the very same position as he had found him ten years prior, Sable’s uncle sat. The latter stood and embraced the younger man, then did the same with the young woman, stepped backwards and looked them over with an odd, casual eye, then motioned for them to move inside the house. Having entered the hut, all three sat upon the bare furniture of the msll living room that also served as a dining room and kitchen. There they talked of many things, including the description of all that had passed the previous day. Sable painted the scene in such vivdness that the old man sat in pure astonishment and apparent awe, but as the tale neared its final crescendo he began to breath more heavily, leaning towards Sable and clutching his arm tightly. “Please go to the bedroom for me,” he wheezed hoarsely. “I have need of some medication from the cupboard.” Sable, worried as to the symptoms of his uncle’s ailment, though confused as to the type of medicine that could possibly be within the long-abandoned hut that might help in treating it, moved to enter the bedroom. A low groan warned him first of the stranger’s presence. He looked immediately to the bed and saw the outlined figure of a man lying there. However, it was almost impossible to tell the face, due to the dusky light, as well as the way, in which the face was contorted. It seemed in pain. In the gloomy atmosphere it resembled only a horror mask that children might wear. “Please forgive me,” mumbled the man. The voice, though strained, immediately caught upon Sable’s heart, setting a fear unlike any he had felt these last long years, a fear he could not control. He turned to run, as he had done ten years before. “Please stay,” moaned the fearful apparition. Sable halted but still could not bring himself to face the monster that had haunted his nightmares with a vicious wrath. “I wish only to receive your forgiveness. I am not long for this world and have wronged you as no man should wrong another. I have wronged you, who will become great.” Sable now turned and caught the eye of the injured man. “Step-father,” he said, “how have you come to be in this place after so many years? I was told you were dead.” “That I was, but soon I will e truly. You will find out the truth from the man who broke my vice and gave me a new life.” Sable stammered out more questions in haste, but it was to no avail. Te tormented soul of his former father had passed on. Towards him fell Sable, weeping, for his mind was now cleared of the thoughts that plague a man about human frailties, being replaced instead by the memories of the joyous, kind-hearted man who had loved his mother and cared for the younger Sable. “You are forgiven, my father. Go now to where you deserve and be with my mother at last. You have not failed in the task set for you, for I am whole and happy.” As he said this he noticed a red line the traced its way from the dead man’s hip to his shoulder. He followed it with his eyes until they reached the great gaping jaws of the huge wolf where his father’s own should have been. And so he wept. Later, from the old uncle, he found out fully what had occurred. He discovered the magic that had been cast upon his step-father, on seeing the great fury he wished to unleash on the unfortunate boy, Sable. Though Sable neither hated his step-father nor resented the old man, but instead the three, his uncle, Cerrena and Sable, all moved together far away to a distant land, where they all lived happily together. And Sable did grow to become great, and many tales are told of his prowess, but those are tales for another time.
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