Heart of Asma
All of Asma wept. For decades the crops wilted and water ran dry. The river would flow for a moment, then the land would die again. No crops could last.
Cordella Grove gripped her locket and set out to find a solution. Her family couldn't live off the money she made with her tapestries. Something needed to change.
After three days of wandering, her waterskin was empty, leaving her throat parched. She lamented the loss of her rations as well, but it was either lose them to the Borealis Cat in her escape or become food herself. Cursing her luck, she struggled forward, refusing to give in. As if in defiance to her curses, the crest of the next hill revealed a small depression with a hut nestled into the valley floor.
Desperation drove her forward and she willed herself down the hillside, twisting her ankle on a root towards the bottom. Finally her legs refused to cooperate and she crumpled to the ground on the stoop of the hut. Cordella Grove clutched her locket tight, feeling herself fade into blackness with memories of her home foremost in her mind.
The scent of a pork stew hit Cordella's nose and her eyes fluttered open. Blinking, she tried to regain focus but the room was a blur. Three figures were fussing about the hut. The soft airy voice of the shortest figure mumbled something about the weather looking "particularly dry as far as magic goes." Cordella's confusion only rose when the tallest form responded, "then we shan't see the faeries then?" Even children know that magic is strictly forbidden and faeries are old farmers' tales. Cordella made a confused cough and the third sister turned to the others, "I told you she'd be awake soon. Cedonia, finish the healing draught. Whisper, tend to her." Whisper approached Cordella and in that nearly inaudible voice said, "we're going to heal you right up, Miss Grove. You came here searching for something mighty fierce. To give it to you, we'll need a hair from your head. Nod, if you agree." Cordella found herself nodding and felt a hair quickly plucked from her scalp by something behind her. Turning around, she found there was nothing there. The sisters were all before her. She really... needed... some... food. And with that, Cordella Grove drifted off to sleep, wondering how they knew her name.
The next time Cordella Grove woke up, she bolted upright and took in the circular hut. Her cot was the only one in the room. Looking around, the interior was completely different than she previously imagined. While her vision had sharpened dramatically, it seemed like the hut had completely changed its layout. How on Tarantellia was the hut this large? From the outside, it was no wider than the silo at th-. Her hand tightened around her locket. The farm. Her family. She needed help and couldn't afford to sleep, she had to- Laughter filled the hut and a familiar voice spoke out. "Are you awake Cordella? Will you tell us what you need? If you do not ask, how can we help you?" Without thinking, Cordella's tongue moved on its own accord. Sharing everything about her home, her family, and even her penchant for weaving tapestry. In unison, the three voices became an echoing chorus, "We will help you but require of you three things. Should one fail, all aid for Asma will cease. "One. You will pray to Malmi and hold her above all else. Every year on Spider's Day, all who request our protection must meet and perform the dance of the spider. You will know when you need it. "Two. You will personally make a weaving of Malmi and her most loyal servants, the Strum Sisters, healing your land. You know the tapestry in your heart. Every thread should be placed in honor of the Goddess of the Tapestry and Silk. You will know when you are finished, just as you will know when you fail. "Three. You will give us the Heart of Asma so we might always know how to find your home." Cordella blinked. "The Heart of Asma?" "Your locket, girl" the middle sister snarled, her voice dripping with disdain. Cordella felt a sharp pain on the back of her neck as her hands yanked the locket from its resting place. She screamed, "Wait!" And everything froze, except for Cordella. It was as if everything in the hut was caught on an inhale. Shakily, her hands opened the locket. Looking down, Cordella saw the familiar view of her home on the right. All of Asma contained in a simple locket. She wept for a time and the picture grew muddled. When she closed the locket, she glared at the three sisters. "Deal."
Cordella's life whittled away for the tapestry. Her family believed she weaved parts of herself into the working, even parts of Asma itself. Once, she was arrested for use of magic while seeking luxurious spider silk in Asmain. Wherever she walked, grass, moss, or flowers would follow. While she was away, the crops began to die. The village came together to pay her bail. Upon seeing the produce from Asma dwindle, the Grecodar decided to leave her be as long as she remained far away from the city. Upon her return home, the weaving began again and the crops became lush and grew like weeds. The tapestry, upon completion, hung in Cordella's home. She died, clutching an invisible chain, after a year and one day with the tapestry on her wall. And so, the tapestry is passed from farmer to farmer, never staying in one home for more than a year.
The scent of a pork stew hit Cordella's nose and her eyes fluttered open. Blinking, she tried to regain focus but the room was a blur. Three figures were fussing about the hut. The soft airy voice of the shortest figure mumbled something about the weather looking "particularly dry as far as magic goes." Cordella's confusion only rose when the tallest form responded, "then we shan't see the faeries then?" Even children know that magic is strictly forbidden and faeries are old farmers' tales. Cordella made a confused cough and the third sister turned to the others, "I told you she'd be awake soon. Cedonia, finish the healing draught. Whisper, tend to her." Whisper approached Cordella and in that nearly inaudible voice said, "we're going to heal you right up, Miss Grove. You came here searching for something mighty fierce. To give it to you, we'll need a hair from your head. Nod, if you agree." Cordella found herself nodding and felt a hair quickly plucked from her scalp by something behind her. Turning around, she found there was nothing there. The sisters were all before her. She really... needed... some... food. And with that, Cordella Grove drifted off to sleep, wondering how they knew her name.
The next time Cordella Grove woke up, she bolted upright and took in the circular hut. Her cot was the only one in the room. Looking around, the interior was completely different than she previously imagined. While her vision had sharpened dramatically, it seemed like the hut had completely changed its layout. How on Tarantellia was the hut this large? From the outside, it was no wider than the silo at th-. Her hand tightened around her locket. The farm. Her family. She needed help and couldn't afford to sleep, she had to- Laughter filled the hut and a familiar voice spoke out. "Are you awake Cordella? Will you tell us what you need? If you do not ask, how can we help you?" Without thinking, Cordella's tongue moved on its own accord. Sharing everything about her home, her family, and even her penchant for weaving tapestry. In unison, the three voices became an echoing chorus, "We will help you but require of you three things. Should one fail, all aid for Asma will cease. "One. You will pray to Malmi and hold her above all else. Every year on Spider's Day, all who request our protection must meet and perform the dance of the spider. You will know when you need it. "Two. You will personally make a weaving of Malmi and her most loyal servants, the Strum Sisters, healing your land. You know the tapestry in your heart. Every thread should be placed in honor of the Goddess of the Tapestry and Silk. You will know when you are finished, just as you will know when you fail. "Three. You will give us the Heart of Asma so we might always know how to find your home." Cordella blinked. "The Heart of Asma?" "Your locket, girl" the middle sister snarled, her voice dripping with disdain. Cordella felt a sharp pain on the back of her neck as her hands yanked the locket from its resting place. She screamed, "Wait!" And everything froze, except for Cordella. It was as if everything in the hut was caught on an inhale. Shakily, her hands opened the locket. Looking down, Cordella saw the familiar view of her home on the right. All of Asma contained in a simple locket. She wept for a time and the picture grew muddled. When she closed the locket, she glared at the three sisters. "Deal."
Cordella's life whittled away for the tapestry. Her family believed she weaved parts of herself into the working, even parts of Asma itself. Once, she was arrested for use of magic while seeking luxurious spider silk in Asmain. Wherever she walked, grass, moss, or flowers would follow. While she was away, the crops began to die. The village came together to pay her bail. Upon seeing the produce from Asma dwindle, the Grecodar decided to leave her be as long as she remained far away from the city. Upon her return home, the weaving began again and the crops became lush and grew like weeds. The tapestry, upon completion, hung in Cordella's home. She died, clutching an invisible chain, after a year and one day with the tapestry on her wall. And so, the tapestry is passed from farmer to farmer, never staying in one home for more than a year.
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