The Golden Apple

The first day of autumn saw that it was by then a week that Hans and Rebecca had had naught to eat but the dry almost stale bread they could beg from their neighbors. Times were indeed tough; the village of Nin had a gold mine that had sadly run dry. Those who could grow coaxed from the hard packed earth carrots, turnips, even some potatoes. Those whom had once served the mine and had the might physic chose to leave when the riches vanished. Those foolish enough to think they could coax a little more from the dry veins of the rock ventured forth to take their place but naught to find means naught to eat. Some died and others left as mere shadows of their former selves.

Near the mine, for those who wished to eat, high on the hill of green by the wizard’s tower there stood an apple tree. Such a tree was somehow always in season and the apples were the yellow of golden autumn leaves. None were brave though, none were bold, so the apples sat upon the branch until that first day in autumn.

Hans and his sister were a son and daughter of two such persons who thought they were smart enough to find that hidden gold the miners could not see. What little money they did have vanished swiftly and what remained for mum, dad and especially the children was nuff. Nuff bought what nuff could and only brought hunger and begging and the harsh, stale bread baked from the harsh, stale earth. Eventually for mum and dad pride without vision and plan bought death. Hans and Bec were luckier to find pity instead. So for a little while they survived on the bitter taste of that pitifulness, so far from fullness they could no longer laugh as children are supposedly supposed to laugh.

Until it was to change one day, that first day of autumn, for as Rebecca’s tummy rumbled she stared longingly at the tree. Hans nodded and squeezed his younger sibling’s shoulder.

“Be careful,” Rebecca whispered.

“Within the hour we will be feasting as King Hans and Queen Bec, you mark my words,” promised the big brother.

Rebecca smiled weakly as she watched the back of her brother. Munching on the rock hard crust she slunk into the shadow of the great temple of Trug. The temple seemed like a knight’s fortress, buttresses, inner towers, but the watch tower was tallest of all. It was in the shade of this tower that Bec hid and watched.

High above the young girl another watched. Gregory, First Guard of the village of Nin also saw the hungry boy head toward the grassy green hill, the temptation of the golden fruits far too great to resist.

“Leave well alone boy,” whispered Gregory, but he and he alone bore witness to the wisdom. As the words slipped away through the tower arrow slit they were whipped up by the wind and lost forever. “The apples are naught for any lips but those of Das the Mighty, wizard of great power and little forgiveness.”

Gregory loaded quill and raised the crossbow, sighting the boy and placing his finger upon the trigger.

It was known that the hill upon which grew the apple tree was cursed but those who lived in the village of Nin had all but forgotten how. Some suggested they who strode upon the grasses would suffer arcana, the wizard’s wrath, transformed into a white crow to then stand guard amongst the apple tree branches. Others suggested a single bite from one of the golden fruits would cause the worst of pain, stomach twisting so savagely that in became out and out became in. Those same villagers quoted the tome of Trug claiming the bones of the eater would crack and splinter and from within them would spill the darkness of sin. Knowing this but also knowing greater the dull pains of pure hunger Hans approached the hill, tree and tower without fear, a steely focus driving him onward.

As that boy’s foot left the dust of the street and instead strode upon the blades of green the cross bow bolt from high above leaped forward. One step, two, one more. Bec saw the quill as it struck her brother from behind. Hans fell as quickly as Bec’s tears.

Rebecca collapsed to the dusty road, the crust spilling from her shaking hand. As she wept her silent tears she felt the hands of Gregory wrap about her shoulders.

“Please forgive me,” he murmured in her ear. “I only did what I have been taught to do.”

“You killed my brother, he only wanted to make me happy,” accused Bec. The young girl wiped her eyes and turned them like daggers to focus upon First Guard Gregory.

“Come with me to a life as a soldier and I will promise you happiness,” offered Greggory, holding out a hand for Rebecca to take and accept his offer.

The girl took one look at the hand, the man and then turned her eyes to look beyond her fallen, dying brother.

“No,” replied Bec faintly.

Her whisper was not reflected in her actions though. Energized by grief and determination Bec rose purposefully to her feet and began her own march toward the hill. As he had been taught, Gregory reloaded his weapon with a fresh quill and brought it to bear. The weapon settled with the back of Bec’s head locked on, Gregory found he could not fire. Bec stepped past her brother and bent low to close his sightless eyes.

“I shall reach tall brother,” promised Bec. “Reach to the tallest branch and pluck the brightest apple for us both.

Up through the branches went the girl. She was small and she was light, the elder branches of the tree accepted her and gave her guidance upwards. As she placed a hand upon the golden fruit at the very top of that wooden tower she glanced down. Below she could see Gregory First Guard still with his weapon ready to fire.

“I have won,” called Bec, her voice bolder as the apple was stolen.

As her hunger overwhelmed and Rebecca bit with abandonment the girl felt her pains vanish but something more too. Power, arcana seeped through her veins. With that power, a merely muttered wish, Rebecca returned the veins of gold to the dead mine and a new life to a dying village. With her family gone Bec knew there was naught left for her in Nin. With another wish she sprouted wings and left for another life.

As Gregory watched the new wizard leave he wept his own tears. For Gregory loved the street girl and her brother also. Now both were gone. The fault was his own.