"Sylmaria" by Katie Verdigris Smoke

Sylmaria

Slowly, silently the pilgrims grew close to the sacred fountain. They climbed the ancient, time-worn steps up to the very peak of the waterfall where all the water in the world sprang from, knelt at the lip of the tiny pool where the clear liquid bubbled up from the centre of the tall column of rock that towered up above the whole world. They cupped the water and splashed it over their heads, the drops glittering like liquid diamonds, tiny suns dropping back into the pool. The men spoke a short prayer in unison, chanting tuneless Latin lines that wound around in the air, sleepy and magical as though the very music of the wild had been caught in their voices.

Then the travellers stood and, with a farewell bow to the pool and the cave behind it, they pushed back through the bright green undergrowth beneath the ancient trees to reach the steep spiral steps down the column of the high pinnacle. The stairs were narrow and treacherous, slippery with mist, but the men went merrily down for they had been blessed by the Well of the Fairy of the Dawn and, when they reached the bottom, hours later, the weary pilgrims gazed back up that sheer barren spire and saw the distant green smudge of trees at the very top and the waterfall tumbling down it in rainbow arcs of coloured lights, and were glad that they had climbed that long and terrifying stairway and seen the magical spring at the tip of the world.

For a while after the travellers went their way, the spring was quiet and still. The globes of pearly light danced in the air above the water and the emerald leaves waved softly in the ever-present breeze that disturbed the cool air. Cool air, but not cold, as you would expect at that altitude. The little dell between the gnarled trees was always the steady temperature of a sunny spring day, drowsy yet invigorating as only magic can be. It was the most peaceful place you could imagine.

Suddenly, as if acting upon a silent command, a whirring swarm of dazzling creatures darted out of the cave and into the clear blue sky. They broke apart and then reformed in the manner of sunset starlings, diving and twisting, forming aerial sculptures and then separating into their own small parties of maybe two or three. Each was a tiny dragon, blue and iridescent in the gleaming sunlight, with translucent shining fairy wings that danced and buzzed at their backs, visible only when the creatures snapped them out straight and glided. They formed a swirling cloud of metallic brilliance and then blew apart to settle onto leaves and branches where they set to gossiping.

“So,” said one to another, “what did you think of that lot Sylmaria?” He meant, of course, the poor pilgrims who had just left the pool after a lifetime of penance and devotion to the worship of the Fairy of the Dawn.

“Hmmm,” laughed his companion, “let's think. They were old, bent and they'd gone white, like all humans do when they live a long time. Still their chant had some power. If they had spent their years at magic school rather than praying to a Goddess who doesn't exist they might have had some potency.”

“Sylmaria!” exclaimed a third, older dragon sitting next to them. “You should not say such things! You know full well that the Fairy of the Dawn is as real as you or I! For shame child!”

“Yeah, yeah Ötökkä,” The dragonet replied, “you're always telling us this but even you must admit that She is nothing like what these pilgrims think She is. She's a dragon, like us. Sure She's huge and tears apart the earth and sky with Her roars, but that's all part of the fun!”

“You blasphemous little....” cried the old dragon, but Sylmaria and her companion had already gone. They rocketed away under the trees.

“Sylmaria!” panted the male dragonet. “Wait!” Sylmaria alighted on a branch that stuck right out over the vertiginous drop below.

“What is it Synkkä? Tired?” jeered Sylmaria in a sing-song voice. Synkkä was too breathless to reply. He just gulped air, trying to frame words.

“There's something -” he broke off and coughed, “- something......happening to the...... air.” Sylmaria could feel it now too, her insides were being torn apart as she dragged in breath after breath and each one was an agony. She managed to say,

“It's.......Her!”

And then the world was bucking, the sky was rent with a jagged ripping noise like cloth being torn, the empty space where sky had been was black and speckled with stars like dying sparks that linger on after the fire has been killed. It was beautiful and terrible, a kind of peacefulness that scared Sylmaria. It seemed to her that this void, this gulf would suck her up, fill her with nothing until she became nothing, as cold as death and yet still living, still and empty of any soul, like the Fairy of the Dawn Herself. For now She came.

The humans thought of Her as the Creator, the Destroyer and the Preserver. They thought of Her as the kind, forgiving Mother admonishing Her earthly children with a merciful yet firm hand. They took the vague shape of Her and made it full, gave it human emotions like love. But She is not like that. She gives naught and takes nothing and feeds on the great empty Gap that She has poured into every mind and with every amount She consumes the Gap grows so that the more She takes the more She gives away. Humans have never understood this. They heard of the Gap and mistook it for love. They turned love into Gap so that love can never be full or true while the Gap lasts. They created Evil from Gap and Gap and Evil, nothing and badness mixed together and changed, mutated into Sin. So the humans scurried and prayed and begged the Fairy to save them but She could not. How could She be the saviour of mankind when they created Evil in the first place? All She can give is Gap and all mankind can do with Gap is to let it fill them and hope that it will extinguish the things man created.

She sent Her minions out into the world in the form of dragons. She filled them with Gap to distribute amongst the humans. But the dragons soon ran out of Gap and began to fill with love and Evil and Good and Sin and all the traits of humanity. She stopped sending more out, but She visited them from time to time and tried to fill them once again with Gap. And now....

Sylmaria looked up into the eye of the Fairy. She gazed deep into it and saw galaxies and worlds whisked into oblivion. She saw stars and planets vanish to be replaced by Gap, animals and men and dragons fade into empty space. She saw distances immeasurable and heights unreachable. She saw a darkness so complete that she could not see it......

Synkkä looked up into the mouth of the Fairy. He gazed deep into it and saw a deep pit without beginning or end. It was so black that it hurt to look at it. It was like staring into the heart of a blazing sun or the depths of a fire. It was a brightness so harsh that it was utterly dark........

And both of them in that instant realized what they must do. They cowered in homage to the Fairy of the Dawn in all Her terrible, unfeeling glory. They wept under Her gaze and pressed up against each other, looking anywhere but at Her and only at Her, for She was the whole world and the whole world seemed swallowed by Gap.

Then something broke inside Sylmaria. “Fairy of the Dawn!” she cried. “I defy you! I DON'T BELIEVE IN YOU!!!!!!!!!!” Her desperate cry resounded back off the empty gulf and the great Fairy who floated in it. For the briefest of moments it was almost as if the Fairy had smiled, although that was impossible, and then She began to fade. As suddenly as She had arrived She was gone. The void closed up. Normality returned, time returned. But Sylmaria could have sworn she heard a small, whispering voice in her mind saying, “You remind Me of Me, little one. You see right through Me, don't you?” And then the great presence vanished, leaving nothing but nothing and a small whisper in Sylmaria's mind, “My daughter.........”