Possessing the Grimstone - By John Grover Page 0,1
sack. He walked slowly, normally, to a cluster of stalks, and pulled at the blue corn.
His father and brother finished their haul and started back to the farmhouse with its thatched roof and shuttered windows. A small wooden post and rail fence surround the yard with a gate. Inside the fenced area, a few spotted swine with short, blunt tusks and a regal-feathered fowl scavenged and played.
The swine were great at eating weeds and keeping the yard free of pests, while the fowl chased off any predators that approached the fence. The fowl’s call was an alarming shriek that scared off most, and if that didn’t do it, the razor tips of its feathers did.
Pim hurried to pluck the rest of the corn from their stalks and stuff them into his bag. He looked back at his father and brother who had already crossed the yard. The idea of using his fleet of foot crossed his thoughts again, but he did not want to anger his father. He stuffed his bag full and rushed back home with ordinary speed.
Entering the home, he observed his family. His mother seemed delighted with this season’s bounty; she wiped her hands on her apron and began rifling through the corn. Every now and again, she’d crush a silk beetle between her fingers.
A small whimper from the cradle in the kitchen drew her away to tend to Pim’s baby sister, Aya.
“Mama?” Pim threw his sack of corn up on their table of Beetwood. “Will you make corn pudding this time?”
She turned to him and smiled.
Pim’s brother’s eyes lit up. “Oh yes, please, Mama. I love your corn pudding.”
“It has been a long time since you made it,” Pim reminded.
“We’ll see.” She pulled Aya into her lap to feed her. “We must make sure there is enough meal, porridge, stuffing for birds, breads, and feed for the swine before I can make pudding.”
“And enough token to the Mulcavrii,” Pim’s father said.
Pim looked over to the hearth where a small fire crackled, and a stew simmered in a pot made from iron shipped from the Silver Coast to the West. Above the hearth, carved into the stone, was the image of a man with wings. There was one above every hearth in every Wivering’s home.
What do they need with blue corn? They’re all extinct.
“Such a sad face,” his mother said. “I said we would see. Don’t give up hope so easily.”
Pim cracked a smile, and then started husking the corn for his mother to prepare.
His father made his way past him to the hearth and tied three ears of corn to the mantle to dry out. Those would be their token this season.
Tal forgot all about the corn and the pudding and went to play with his ball and staff.
“Not in the house, Tal,” his mother said. “Take the toys outside.”
“But the regal-feathered fowl chases me when I toss the ball.”
“Then go outside the fence—but stay by the house. Dinner will be ready shortly.”
He rolled his eyes and vanished outside into the yard.
Pim sat on a stool with a blade, carving a piece of darkwood into a totem.
“One day, you’ll make a fine journeyman,” his father said.
Pim sighed. “This is just for fun. I don’t want to join the order of Thet.”
“It’s a noble order.”
“No doubt… but it is not my calling.”
“What is your calling, son?”
“I have not discovered it yet.”
“Then you know not if the order of Thet is for you.”
“I may want to join the warrior sect and protect our lands.”
“Protect them from what? No one makes war on us.”
“They may one day. The lands of the North and South have many people. Many who are stronger than us, many with dark gods from the blackened skies and fire pits. They have made war with themselves.”
“Nonsense.”
“It is true. Just because you never leave Gonnish doesn’t mean there aren’t dangers out there. Maybe in Bhrungach, or Glenghora. What of the Black Spires of Cardoon? No one knows what lurks within the city of Cardoon. We only know that it is home to a great government with kings and queens.”
“These things are not our concern. We have no business in Cardoon. We are a neutral people who lead simple lives. Gonnish has been blessed to be shielded from the troubles in the North and South. Our place is here to follow the path the First People set before us: the bounty, and the spiritual path of the order of Thet. If you wish for trouble, Pim, trouble