The Tides of My Heart

The first traces of his message came in early spring. 

I was tending to my garden, tilling the soil. The winter had scarcely gone, but I was eager to get ahead on my work; the sooner the seeds of my herbs were nestled into the ground, the sooner I could restock my apothecary. Then, I heard it.

It started as a faint murmur in the wind. I had ignored it as best I could, busying myself with casting growth spells, weaving tapestries of sunlight, completing prayer rituals, and even sacrificing the first lamb of the season. Still, the murmur lingered on the soft breeze, beckoning.

Soon, the tips of the trees caught it and rustled it into a call. Then the birds joined in, their chirps and whistles echoing the tune throughout the forest. I attempted to drown out their noise by singing a hymn, humming the melody until my voice grew hoarse. Eventually, the foxes, squirrels, bushes, insects, and even the river all caught on to the birds’ tune; it seemed that all of nature sang his message. By the end of spring, I could no longer escape their chorus.

“You must go to him,” they sang. “He demands an audience.”

The tides of my heart spurted tumultuously. What could he possibly want? The answer did not matter, I had no choice.

I prepared as best I could. I sent Chaevis, my feline familiar, to fetch a rodent and a boar. Although the past winter was merciless, I still had a few herbs stored away. I boiled the ingredients down into a protective brew and bathed in its contents. I also fasted, purifying my mind and body. I went to the riverbank and plucked the freshest honeysuckle I could find. Its dew was sweet on my tongue as I whispered my wish into the Universe’s ear through its nectar.

“Be still, my heart. I am guarded from his malevolence. Let it be so.” 

The Universe was compelled to hear me now, but I was no fool; I knew it was not obligated to comply. So, I set out with only my measly magic to protect me.

***

His home was in the City of Judgment. Hundreds, thousands, millions of people all lived one on top of each other, yet there was no soul in this barren city. My spell guaranteed safe passage, but I was not immune to their words. They snickered and sneered as I made my way through the streets.

“What a lowly ingrate!”

“That bastard is not worth an audience with the king.” 

“He is such a shameless dolt. One could only wonder where he gets it from.”

My mere presence drew a crowd, all swept away into the intoxicating flurry of the mocking laughter and jagged, pointing fingers. Smiles of stained teeth and stares of deep-sunken eyes lined the path as I walked. Their scrutiny washed over me like a wave, but the waxy coat of my spell prevented the effects from seeping in. I would remain dry in my assurance, at least on appearance. The tides of my heart, however, jostled at their folie. “Be still,” I pleaded. “They mean nothing.”

Soon, I was before him. His head was enflamed and bulbous, to the point of nearly bursting. The once soft skin around his piercing eyes was now burnt and rough with scales. His stomach was swollen with the dreams and aspirations of his former wives and children. I could tell he hadn’t bathed since last I saw him; his stench filled the hall, causing those who whiffed it to spew out manic criticisms of the person nearest to them. He sat on his broad throne of malice and peered down at me. The court overflowed with onlookers. Their hungry mouths dripped with lust, anticipating a meal.

“You summoned me.” 

It was not a question; I was ready for this to be over. He grunted and snarled.

“Taxes have risen, boy. I demand immediate payment.”

Had he gone mad? The year had all but just begun. I had barely harvested my first yield of produce, let alone fashioned any mixes or potions to sale. Even the magic market was not yet open to patrons. He grinned, and from his mouth he spat needles of worthlessness that pierced my sides. My arms shook, but I did not lose composure.

“I cannot pay, and you know it," I gritted through clenched teeth as I removed the needles one by one. "You should have notified me sooner?”

A low moan rippled through the crowd, they were growing less patient and more voracious by the moment. Where was their meal? Their king would feed them, surely; but first, he would have his fun.

“I am under no obligation to grant ‘prior notice’ to anyone, least of all to you," he shouted. "I own this kingdom and everything in it. It is I who gave you that forest where you play in the mud and frolic with the swine. It is I who owns whatever you produce!”

“Father, please be reasonable!”

The words leapt out before my lips could stop them. The hungry crowd squealed with pleasure; their collective stomach shaking the palace's foundation with its growl. My cheeks burned with a fierce, hot embarrassment. I felt the wax of my spell evaporating.

“No,” he belched. “You live to serve my whim. I will raise the taxes and you will pay! Or would you prefer a promotion to my court? Perhaps you fancy the role of my cook? Or an errand boy?” 

The tides of my heart swirled like a hurricane in my chest; less space between us two would mean certain death. Salt and bile formed in the back of my throat, threatening to burst forth. I squeezed my fists to steady myself but my courage was waning.

The crowd delighted in my inner turmoil, chanting in a mocking song, “the boy has feelings! The boy has feelings!” Laughter reverberated off the cold, stone pillars; I had never been made to feel so small before in all my life. Tears fell from my eyes, splashing onto my feet. Onlookers bubbled in titillation; their meal was finally being served. They stumbled over each other to lick the salty liquid from my cheeks and toes. As I drowned in the wave of the ravenous crowd, I began to resign myself to his injustice. 

Something shined behind him.

There was a crack in the crumbling stone at the rear of the hall and a ray of sunlight broke through, spotlighting a rare purple flower. I knew this flower; even in the toughest terrain, it blossomed. In the ray of light, it glistened with the dew of the honeysuckle.

In a flash, my heart stilled. A surge of deep knowing came over me and I realized my own foolishness in attempting logic with an illogical beast. It became quite apparent that my fear was merely a remnant of the scared little boy I had been long ago; but I was no longer that boy. The sound of the calming ocean within me eased my labored breathing. 

“I will not pay it.”

The room held its breath. My father twisted his nose in indignation. He squeezed the arms of his throne and attempted to hoist himself onto his bloated feet.

“You are bound!” he shrieked. “If you do not, then you will be banished!”

“Then, so be it. I forfeit my claim to your forest and renounce you as my king. Take all that you find as payment of any remaining debts. I will be gone by the full moon.”

His face deflated and his rough skin boiled, peeling away layer by layer to reveal a giant 200-pound baby. The infant kicked and wheezed defiantly on a mound of its own shed skin. “You are a stupid, ungrateful boy," the man-child cried. "You will not last one year without me. I should have eaten you long ago when I devoured your whore mother!"

I ignored his plea for attention and managed myself free from the crowd. I walked away from the city for the final time, never turning to face him again.

***

I had nearly finished packing. It would not be easy to leave behind the forest that I had known my whole life, but I needed to find a land of my own. Hidden among some of my things was an enchanted mirror, made to show the viewer everything he is not. I scanned my reflection but could not find my father’s likeness. This ignited a fire within me. Before leaving, I plucked one last honeysuckle and lapped at its dew.

“I will not become like my father. I will grow into my own man. Let it be so.” 

Years passed and I eventually settled into the great plains of the African savanna. It is here where I work my fingers to the bone, rebuilding my life and finding my way. There are days when I hear my father’s words whispered in the tall grass, or cackled in the squawk of a passing bird, or trumpeted in the distant lion’s roar. I hear these calls and wonder, “perhaps he’s right.”

But every time, each time, I later spot the same rare purple flower and I am reminded that the Universe conspires in my favor. This deep inner knowledge strengthens my resolve and calms the sea within my heart.