The Midsummer Covenant

Hiem stood before the maze’s mouth where the cat slept above him. It rested upon the hedge’s viridian shoulders and breathed slow, dreamy exhales. Hiem studied it, noting it resembled no great lion or creature of force. Rather, it was liken to the softness of rabbits, with the wiry joints of a starving fox. Yet he knew the creature better than to judge it from appearance.

Far beyond that dream wandering sleep, a paw twitched and eyes moved beneath their lids.

‘Anoixi,’ Hiem called, kicking a hoof into the hedge with enough force that the cat was shaken from it’s top and dropped to the meadow floor.

It seethed toward him, its eyes golden-red with an abyss of darkness slit into them.

‘You awoke me.’

‘You landed upon your feet. You would never come to harm.’

‘I am not concerned by harm, I am concerned by a lack of sleep.’

‘You have slept for months. Overslept, might I add. It was my initiative and responsibility that led me here. Heaven knows it was no easy feat to find such a place without your guidance.’

‘I held faith that you would arrive in time for the exchange.’ Anoixi licked their front paw with a pink, sandy tongue.

‘And what if I did not? What if I chose not to search for the maze? What if I held reservations in coming?’

‘Then I would have found you.’

‘With what time? Our exchange is tonight!’

Anoixi rolled their shoulders back, ‘Then I still had time.’ The cat sauntered past the maze’s threshold, entering it with the knowledge of one who would never get lost, and vanished around a corner.

Hiem started after it, green walls building around him, but before he could follow, the cat appeared overhead, walking atop the leaves like they were solid ground, ‘Were you always so slow, faun?’

‘I am here, am I not?’

‘Then try to keep up.’

Hiem walked deeper into the gut of the labyrinth, watching for Anoixi above him. The exchange had occurred since the beginning of time, yet with each visit, the maze’s walls appeared higher, the leaves darker, the vines thornier. Despite Hiem’s attempts to track the route, he always knew that without Anoixi he would be an insect trapped in nature’s web.

Never to leave. Never to feel the warmth of a midwinter fire melt away the cold in his far away home. A home he may not see for months, if the cat stopped him. The satyr was controllable, he knew that but the cats - both of them - were more difficult than he could afford. If it was going to work, he needed a way past them.

As his imagination ran, Hiem lost focus and suddenly found himself at a forked path with no sign of the cat above him. ‘Guide,’ he called, ‘Where are you, Anoixi?’

The verdure became deeper, the roots transforming into fingers that would drag him through the undergrowth to a place so lost that the world would never recall the blow and hail of winter. All that he was would be consumed, swallowed, forgotten.

‘This year bore a short spring,’ said Anoixi, the voice simultaneously before and behind Hiem, who spun and found himself alone. Still, the cat spoke, ‘You had no right to cheat me. If we are marked by any master, it is the gusts of time, and they are most unkind.’ By his hooves, Hiem saw the cat curling between his goat legs, slinking behind one and before the other, before looping back, ‘winter overstayed it’s welcome. Time will not forget.’

‘Well,’ Coughed Hiem, ‘the flowers did not grow. They could not break the snow. Such a powerful frost we had this year.’

‘The flowers could not thrive because you would not relent. You did not call off the clouds. You did not halt the snow even when the Earth molested it into sleet and sludge and hailstone. So how could Spring breathe life back into the trees? How could the flowers share their wrapped colours? Anoixi’s head lowered as though he had seen a mouse, ‘And yet, when you arrived you claimed I overslept. You spoke of responsibility. Where were such trite messages in the deformed months of spring?’

‘You are not my judge. Summer has overstayed it’s welcome before.’

‘Not to such lengths. You meddle where you have no right. You have denied my purpose and the Earth suffers for it.’

Hiem scoffed and buffed his chest forward, ‘And where is summer? Where is its herald? She is exactly where I left her. Frozen. Submissive. She shall heed my request and we shall be done with mazes and marbles.’

‘Request? You come with a request?’

‘I do,’ Said Hiem, with a wash of embarrassment, as if the words has slipped out ‘Though I shall not say it to you. I will speak it only to her.’

‘Then speak it now. Look upon who you force to suffer. Speak your request, and know you have no right to be heard.’

As the cat spoke, the maze opened like a jaw widening, revealing at it’s most profound point, a clearing with a figure made of white stone stood upon a marble plinth in the centre.

To an inexperienced eye, the statue would have looked like the mirror of Hiem. The goat feet, the hirsute legs. Yet upon her face was the resounding look of sadness that all who stand upon the plinth know. It is the face of lost time.

‘The satyr,’ said Hiem, coming closer. As he did so, he saw a collection of her belongings and the curled impression of a cat by the marbled hooves, ‘And her guide.’

‘You’ve arrived,’ Said the cat, spurring awake.

‘How has Kalokairi fared?’ Anoixi asked.

‘As they all do when they sleep. She has been quiet, yet some nights, when the moon does not show itself, and the stars are few, I have heard a voice muffling through the stone. A voice like shooting stars begging to come home.’

Hiem took in Kalokairi’s face, remembering her attributes and features. Blemishes and structures he had forgotten, painted alongside the ones he recalled.

‘Let the exchange begin,’ Said the other cat, ‘She deserves her freedom.’ At the words, the marble shook, breaking from the satyr’s form like snow melting by a fire.

She stumbled, staggering on the plinth as though she did not remember how to stand. Her arms cast themselves out for balance like the sails of a mighty ship, and within the minute she was stabilized, a spark of recognition in her eyes.

‘Fthinoporo, it has been too long. And Anoixi, how are you? Is it already the end of Spring?’ Yet the wonder soon diminished from Kalokairi’s eyes as she looked upon the one who put her there. He who placed the chain, tied the shackles and swallowed the key.

‘Hello Hiem,’ She said.

‘Kalokairi,’ Acknowledged Hiem.

‘You are here to take my place, as I took it before thee, and you before that. The cycle is to be reborn. Attend the plinth,’ Said Kalokairi, stepping from it. The plinth exhaled without the weight of its host, and Hiem recalled all the years he had spent confined to that silent place. He paused, not daring to step closer.

‘I had other thoughts.’ He suggested.

‘Other?’

‘You must return to the plinth,’ Insisted Fthinoporo.

Anoixi’s eyes widened and ears pushed back, ‘This is your request, is it not? This is what you would not tell. That you hold no intention of returning to your guard.’

‘I wished to only speak to her, but seeing as you have figured it out: Yes, my intention is to game for it. I cannot return - how can I when I have so much more to give? And how wonderful it would be to spend the year in winter’s cold hands without the summer to divide it? I will not return. I cannot when these dreams keep me awake.’

‘My freedom is not on offer. I have served, now it is my turn to shine upon the world, to let it relish in summer’s light. It is your duty to stand upon the plinth, as we have each done for all time. This year shall be no different.’ Said Kalokairi.

But before Hiem could respond, Fthinoporo said, ‘What is this game you propose?’

‘I suggest we dance for the right.’

‘Dance?’

‘Indeed. If you’d wager it.’ Said Hiem with a slight bow, ‘You must back yourself, I assume, to be the better dancer. Why would summer not have greater movement than winter? Winter is a time for rest, where man coddles to his fires and takes to his shelters. In summer, the people sing, they drink, they dance. Surely you would win.’

Kalokairi paused for thought and said, ‘I do believe myself your better in dance, but I also believe that you would not propose such a thing if you thought you could lose. As such, I will only play your game if I may strike a challenge also. The better of the two games shall have their freedom. The loser takes the plinth.’

‘Agreed,’ Smiled Hiem, shaking the satyr’s hand as though he had already won.

‘And what if we have no winner?’ Asked Fthinoporo.

‘Then any who steps upon the plinth before the full set of the moon shall volunteer themselves to watch the maze, thus granting the other participant freedom, and condemning themselves to sleep regardless of the games left to play.’ Replied Anoixi.

That was the cat to fear, thought Hiem. If the plan was to be spoiled, it was by Anoixi. Whatever challenge Kalokairi proposed, it would not be difficult to defeat her. But Anoixi was cunning and would not see summer defaced like spring.

Hiem simply had to win both games and all would be right.

The four agreed to the terms and Hiem began to gallop and trot. He had practiced the routine for weeks and knew it meticulously. When he was finished he turned with a flourish and bowed as humbly as he could afford.

Then, when it was Kalokairi’s turn, Hiem watched as the satyr moved wildly, her limbs thrown in circles and waves above her head, and then sluggishly, as a desperation welled inside of her.

‘It is not fair!’ Said the satyr, ‘I have slept most recently. I earned my freedom - I should leave here, regardless of my dancing. My body does not remember how to shape myself like a twilight festival. I do not remember the music. I cannot taste the wine. Time betrays me-’

‘Such was the deal.’ Shrugged Hiem, ‘You agreed to it freely. As such, I am the winner, and celebrate with a year long winter!’

‘Not so sudden,’ Chimed Anoixi, ‘This was only the first game. There is a second. One decided by Kalokairi.

Hiem sank into himself, cursing the cat in whispers.

‘What is your challenge?’ Said Fthinoporo.

‘We shall play a game of immobility. We shall see who may stand still the longest and they who moves first shall lose.’

‘But that is hardly fair,’ Said Hiem, ‘You have not moved for months, while I am lumber and unfixed.’

‘Then it shall be as kind as your game was,’ Smiled Kalokairi, who assumed her position and started the second game.

Hiem had the foresight to position himself well, his hooves firm and apart to stabilize himself, but Kalokairi retained the same pose she held over winter. He watched her muscles relax into the same composition they had been in for months and cursed to himself.

Soon the afternoon sun became unbearable, the heat suffocating, but still he did not move. Day settled into evening and turned into night and through it all his knees burned and shouted at him to move.

He would hold it. He had to. Yet his eyes - fixated upon Kalokairi - saw she had not even begun to shake. Her legs were firm and astute - a soldier under little pressure from the advancing enemy, while his were moments from collapse.

Hiem crumbled to the meadow’s floor, ‘Such a thing is unfair to challenge!’ He cried, ‘I am not used to such positions, while it is most she remembers!’

‘Such were the rules,’ Shrugged Anoixi, ‘Terms which you agreed to freely.’

‘You are my guide. By right that should place you as my supporter, not hers.’ Hissed Hiem.

‘I support the plinth. I support the cycle. We waste time with these games. I crave a victor. You did well to fall as you did. Another inch over and you would have connected with the plinth.’

It was true. The marble was only breaths away from him.

‘Then what is the decision? Neither of us touched the plinth, yet we each won a challenge.’

‘A third.’ Said Fthinoporo, ‘You shall have a final challenge.’

‘Decided by whom? I shall not let the satyr choose again. That last sport was agony.’ Said Hiem.

‘And I shall not be victim to my circumstance. I will not be played again by this foolish faun.’ Replied Kalokairi.

‘We shall decide,’ said Anoixi. ‘These challenges were not fit for the might of the seasons. Cast thy selves higher. Your final partaking shall be one of giant’s strength, with animal dexterity, and human delicacy.’

The faun smiled to himself, for who had greater strength than he? Who knew more of the animal mind than he who was half goat? And who better to show the precision and delicacy of humanity, than he who was half human - he who bared the hands of man and the eye of woman. Anoixi had made a mistake proposing such a challenge.

‘Very well,’ Intoned the faun, ‘We shall play for a final round.’

The satyr, deep in thought, nodded their agreement, and the cat resumed.

‘Then I task you each with the act of holding the moon. Hand or tool, it matters not, only that he who carries the moon before its fall shall leave here, and he who does not, shall remain in statue for the coming months.’

Kalokairi beamed, ‘I shall catch it under my shawl. That is sure to grant my leave.’ Without a moment’s pass the satyr collected it from her belongings. She held the cloth by the corners and threw the heavy middle towards the sky like a fisherman hunting in shallow waters.

The moon stood fast, unbothered by the attempts to knock it from the heavens. Kalokairi jumped, throwing the shawl and casting it forward, while Hiem abandoned the cause and turned instead to the others.

‘You lied, cat. I was promised a task of dexterity and delicacy. What of those characters are dignified in this sport?’

‘For every task, there is more than one solution,’ Replied Fthinoporo.

‘It’s not fair!’ The faun cried, watching Kalokairi throw empty net after empty net. It was only a matter of time - the satyr was sure to catch the moon before it’s natural fall.

Yet, perhaps that was it.

It would fall, as it did every night, and he would be exactly where he needed to be in order to catch it.

Cautiously, the faun stepped backwards, ensuring he could see Kalokairi, and that Kalokairi could not see him. When his hoof touched the rest of her belongings, he reached down and stole a mason jar, then approached where the moonlight was strongest.

He unscrewed the cap and placed the jar on the ground. He aligned it where he suspected it might fall, but still the angle was not right.

He placed it closer, yet still, the moon would not fall into the jar.

Hiem stepped a final time, placing the jar onto a hardened marble floor where it radiated with fullness and silver light. He watched as the final seconds of the moon’s descent were complete, and the rock fell into the jar with a dink and a rattle. The faun thrust the lid over it and locked it tight.

‘I have done it!’ He declared, ‘I am victor and claim animation and freedom to hark upon my word! The herald of winter shall command again!’

‘Wonderful assessment,’ Said Anoixi, ‘But a problem persists.’

‘What problem? What is there that I might not solve? What beast may I not slay, or water I may not cross? I am of giants and mountains and bleed as Gods do. What else may I conquer?’

Yet Anoixi only washed their paw, and Fthinoporo hissed a laugh. It was Kalokairi who came closer - though not too close - and said, ‘You are indeed the victor of our final challenge, for you have contained the moon. But-’

‘Yes? Speak it, why do they laugh at me?’ The faun stamped a hoof onto the ground, which replied with a rocky, echoing thud.

The thud of marble, not Earth.

The thud of a plinth, on which only the loser must stand.

‘You have won, and in victory, you have lost.’

Fthinoporo released a consuming yawn. They pressed against Kalokairi’s legs and said, ‘Come. It is the start of summer. I shall lead you from the maze. Let your greatness burst in the months to come. But when the time is right, I shall find you, and I shall return you to the plinth.

‘Unless, of course, there is a game for it,’ Said Kalokairi with a smile.

‘Unless,’ Agreed the cat, leading them into the hedges and letting summer officially begin.

‘No! I won!’ Cried Hiem, who suddenly found he could not move. Marble rippled over him, solidifying Hiem where he stood with the jar in his hands at just the right angle, the moon glistening inside.

‘You cheated,’ Said Anoixi, looking into Hiem’s vacant marble eyes, ‘This winter has lasted long enough and you would do well for the rest. Let the birds sing. Let the sun break over the gorge and shine upon the river. Let us all bask in its waters. The change of midsummer is here. Why not enjoy it.’