Mother Winter

Lost Magic

I decided that telling the truth was probably best.  "I don't have any magic.  It's forbidden."

Winter stared at me for a moment and then sighed as if disappointed.  "My apologies.  I forgot about thy new god," she said.  She then looked at me more seriously.  "But just because magic is forbidden doesn't mean that thou dost not have some measure of ability.  Every man, woman, and child who walks on this earth has some form of magic.  It may be strong or it may be weak.  It may be no more than a bit of good luck or an unusual knack.  But all folk have magic, no matter who thou art."

"But how do I know what magic I have?" I wanted to know, excitement rising within me.  Desperation had brought me here - desperation and a lack of respect for rules I didn't understand.  Now desperation and a good streak of rebelliousness was driving me towards learning magic of my own.

She regarded me for a long second.  "What skills dost thou have?" she asked finally.

"Skills?" I asked.

She sighed heavily and regarded me with thinly-veiled impatience.  "What talents dost thou have?  What can thou do better than others?  It is not that hard, descendant of Kalevar."

"Oh."  I thought about this for a minute.  "Well, I'm good at farm work.  Mostly working out in the fields, though.  I'm not as good with animals."

Winter considered this, and a determined expression spread across her face.  "Hold out thy hand," she commanded, reaching into a pocket of her skirts.

I held out my hand, secretly wondering what she was going to put in it and hoping that she hadn't decided to give me a handful of worms or something.  She then pressed a tiny object into my hand, and when I looked down, I saw that she had given me a rye seed.  "What do I do with this?" I asked her.

"Put it in the ground," she ordered.

I knelt down and scooped out a small hole in the hard ground.  I then put the seed in and covered it.  I stood and looked at Winter.  "Now what?"

"Sing," she said.

I frowned at her.  "Sing what?"

She closed her eyes.  "Was thou not told the Origin of rye?  Sing it a song of growth, a song of summertime."

I felt incredibly ridiculous, but I did as she said.  "See, you seed, the snow has melted.  The sun has emerged from its winter nest, and warmth is in the air.  Break the bonds that hold you fast, bonds of shell and skin.  The bonds are there to protect you from winter's cold wrath, but summer has come again.  Rise up and grow, you seed, for spring has come and you are sorely needed.  You are needed for baking bread to fill aching bellies, to stave off the worst of hunger."

Before my eyes, a green shoot sprang up and grew taller.  I stepped back, astonished, as it went from a seedling to a full-grown plant in a matter of seconds.  The plant stood before me in a circle of melted snow, fully ripe and ready for threshing.  I turned to look at Winter, my eyes wide with surprise.

Winter looked back at me, her face impassive, but I swore I saw tears beginning to gather in the corners of her eyes.  "Thou now hast what thou needest to save your family," she said softly.  "Take what thou needest from my grain storage.  I have enough to last me through winter and I have no family, no people to support."