Micau’s Contract

Ash landed on Micau’s shoulders like delicate snowflakes. He was a dot among the scorched hills stretching beyond sight – burnt everywhere except for a narrow path of green. That path seemed blessed, protected from the once fierce fires as though the flames found a flowing rive of cool water in those blades of grass. The air was not as free. Burnt straw curled as though tortured and black and dead grass clung to his throat. He hacked up dust onto his hand and flung it off onto the chard ground. Just as the thirty mornings prior to this one, Micau gathered his small camp and started again down the path.

Fires ravaged the land for weeks on end and storms stained the sky black, yet on the third month a blacksmith realized a path of grass remained untouched. One more month passed, the town’s circle sent Micau down the path. Micau, always hovering beyond town limits, never quite belonging to the town yet never seemingly gone long. The town’s circle with their white beards believed that the green path led to the cause and solution to the torment of weather and flames that plagued their lives.

Micau agreed to go if only a fine cabin would be built for him upon his return – they agreed.

On this thirty-first morning, after hacking up the burnt air and throwing it to the ground, he spotted a figure at the bottom of a valley. The blackness of the thing made the scorched earth look pleasant, Micau though. Though it wasn’t solid. It sat there like the edge of a shadow. As Micau approached he began to see the smoky shadow had a face – a stark white face like a cloud.
Micau cautiously approached the figure that hovered – or stood, he wasn’t sure – inches above the land. The thing might have stared directly at him if it had eyes.

“I am Gale.” Black clouds, flattened, stacked on top of one another, enveloped its body as it stood half a body length above Micau. “I come from the wind and the wind from me.”

“Gale.” Micau repeated, trying his best to ignore the creatures jagged mouth that seemed the size of its white head. “Your name is familiar.” Those teeth were like broken glass.

“As well it should be!” Gale said, rising yet another head above Micau. “I am the Windscorcher.”

Windscorcher. Micau narrowed his eyes at the growing figure, trying to appear unconcerned at its formidable height. “You’re where the storms come from? You’re what I’ve been searching for?”

“What you’ve been searching for I cannot tell. But I am found. I’ve been waiting for your return.” The figure bent from its midsection and stared. A featureless face inches away from him – Micau was sure the creature was staring at him, but only its lips quivered where jagged teeth touched.

“Are you the cause of the storms? The lightening and the fires?”

Gale smile stretched width of its head and tilted it head.

“The town’s circle sent me to find the cause. To follow the unburnt path.” He added uneasily.

“You cannot remember?” Gale said. “You have breached your contract.”

“Contract? What contract?” Something caught Micau’s gaze in the sky, a flash of lightning. Clouds began to turn and spin.

“The young ones’ teeth.” The Windscorcher continued. “Your promise of the young ones’ teeth in return for a serene sky. The sky is no longer serene. So you are here.”
“Young ones?” He asked. “No, that’s not right. We don’t have young ones.”
“That is no a concern of mine.”

“We’ve –” Micau paused. Young ones? Was there ever such a thing? He could vaguely recall little feet trampling gardens…

“These hills were once flat. The moon was once very large. You once had young ones. And I need their teeth.” Gale flashed another smile the way a boulder would crack in two.

“Young ones.” Micau repeated. Any amusement of the thought was gone, replaced with a nagging sensation. “How old are you, Gale?”

“Not old enough to forget contracts.”

“We don’t have any more young ones. We – our town – made a deal with Radimous.” It was all coming back. “We gave Radimous our young ones in exchange for long life. We simply haven’t had young ones for many years.”

“This means to me there are no teeth.”

Micau nodded.

“Very well. Then I present you a choice.” Gale stretched its black body twice, three times the height of Micau and looked down at the traveler. “Choice one – the fires and storms continue until you can undo your deal with dear Radimous, or until the disasters destroy you.”

He couldn’t remember how they came to find Radimous, and he doubted his town could recall, either. Micau waited for Gale’s next option.

“Choice two, teeth and bones are the same. So it is bones I will also take, but I will require more than one. I’ll need them all.”

“We can’t give you all of our bones – we need them.” Micau could’ve laughed at the thought under different circumstances.

“All of ones bones.”

“Anyone’s bones?”

“No!” The wind pushed Micau’s back. “No. Not anyone’s bones. You would deceive me and give me the bones of a bear or of many dogs. I will know.” The wind died down. “It is the bones of one person. One person, one year, your town. Should you agree on this new contract, I shall need them in three moons.”

Micau didn’t know how many people lived in the town. He doubted anyone precisely knew. No one could possible miss one person. Or two. A hundred or thousand! Surely that could be enough time to figure out another concession to this Windscorcher.

“I will agree to the set of bones.”

“It is a deal.” Gale smiled its horrendous smile, sending a flash down Micau’s back.

Sixteen days and nights passed as Micau journeyed back to town – though it felt like a mere afternoon stroll to a man that had lived for so many years. Each day was as calm as a mid-spring day, and each night held stars dancing in the sky. The Windscorcher was keeping its bargain, Micau realized.

Smoke simmered from the ashes of farms and houses the dotted the outlying land of the town. Most of these barns had stood for centuries under the same people who tended the animals and cared for the crops that fed the rest of the town. They would rebuild, surely, Micau thought. But the people who lived here were experienced in fighting locus or staving off floods. The fires from the Windscorcher were truly intense.

People appeared milling about as though they just left a dream. Tyler Frimm stood broad at his shoulders, broader than any man should, yet he was slouched over, tired, when he eyed Micau walking passed. Some years ago they had been partners thatching roofs – then again, with the years flying by it was impossible not to have worked with anyone at some point in the town. Sullen faces searching for blame stared at Micau. It felt heavy. He kept his eyes forward.

The town council stood around the oak table the length of the great room, scarred from writings and centuries of self-important work as they listened to Micau. Old gods and old promises. Like the promise of eternal life from Radimous the Sensible in exchange for – something about loyal animals? Or the agreement the Velt the Lonely of a bountiful harvest for – what was it? Something about small people.

Oh yes, they muttered among themselves after Micau described the being, Gale the Windscorcher. Of course it wants bones. It is his right! Scour the jail and find Matt Marone, currently residing in jail for thievery they said.
Getting rid of a thief seemed all well and good to Micau. At the thought of transporting a thief for thirty-two days, however, he made sure to ask for the guards.

Sixteen more rises and falls of the Sun. The guards took to simply carrying Marone after his repeated escape attempts, crying out every time they managed to capture him.

The Windscorcher replicated a dry smile. “Give him to me.” Thunder rolled in the horizon as he spoke. “Give him to me now and the fires will cease for another year.”

The guards didn’t hesitate to push Marone towards the wide-open arms of the deity. Gale towered over Marone like a parent looking over a toddler. “Marone Quintero.” It hissed. “Thank you for upholding your end of the contact.” With its long fingers the creature caressed the prisoner’s hair and brushed the edges of his ears. Marone, whose mouth was gagged since day six sans meals and water, tried to squirm out of its grasp. Micau watched Gale’s grip tighten into skin, blood peeking out from clothing.

Micau and the guards walked back in silence the next sixteen days.
As happens to eternal lives, the passing of an afternoon turned the calendar around and terrible winds tore thatching off the roofs and howling fires engulfed farms.

The town council did not hesitate sending Micau and the same two guards up to Gale with a known liar and gambler. Gale welcomed Micau like an old friend and reached out for the liar.

Another afternoon to eternal lives passed.

On the third year, the council had prepared two guards and the drunk of the town. The drunk was tolerated due to her sizeable charitable donations – indeed the aqueduct bore her name – but the recent drunken tirade proved too much. The council surmised they could simply seize her assets and be done with the woman. Micau nodded and started on the sixteen-day trek with the guards and the drunk who walked in a straighter line than she had for years, leaning on the guards for support. Who could blame her?

At night the guards bound Linola’s legs and arms, sleeping close by in case she managed to escape. As the last of the campfire’s embers ceased glowing, whispers lost in the breeze where shared between the guards. Micau thought some of the words were from Linola. He didn’t want to imagine what a dead woman’s words were pleading for before falling asleep.

Familiar terrain went by as the small group ventured to Gale the next day. Micau glanced over at the guards. They seemed to almost shuffle their feet as they approached. On the previous visits the same people appeared uneasy, but a man could only watch a body be torn apart by a monster so many times. Micau shuddered.

Rolling thunder crept through the air as the Windscorcher opened his gangly arms. “My friends.” It said. “I am glad to see you again.” The ground gently trembled.

“We offer Linola Cabe to uphold our contract.”

“Are you sure, Micau?”

He froze. The creature had never uttered his name before. He wasn’t even sure if the creature recognized him or only played at familiarity.

“Gale, Windscorcher.” He added. “Linola Cabe is our end of the bargain.”

The two guards and Linola moved even before he could react. Their hands were fast and well-practiced, and Micau felt his wrists struggling against hard rope. He was flung on his knees before the creature.

Cracks like a distant avalance rippled through the air as the Windscorcher spread its fingers wide and flung its arms out. “Micau Amora. Thank you for upholding your contract.”

The hideous smile.