#atozchallenge: xiuhcoatl

Previous: Wyrm

“Oh, don’t listen to him. He’s a codgery old snake who doesn’t believe in his own mortality,” a voice spoke out after the beat of the Great Wyrm’s wings had quietened to a whisper. Out from under covering of the ancient yew, a turquoise serpent slithered. Wisps of smoke rose from the dry grass as he approached the assembly. “I may not be as ancient as him, but I know well enough what you’re talking about.”
“Who are you?” the Fairy Queen asked pointedly.
“See, my point exactly. I am Xiuhcoatl. You’ll most probably have never heard of me because my people, the Aztecs, have long died out. But I lived on because my likeness was carved in stone and my story was inscribed on crumbling walls and when the people of the future found them and retold them, I was reborn. Sometimes I feel I cling on to life by the skin of my non-existent teeth just because there are people who curate stories, who study cultures and who determine that whatever happens, these things must be remembered. Some were not so fortunate. I have lost many colleagues to the void.”
“Do you believe me now, O Queen?” Baba Yaga turned to the Fairy Queen.
The Queen sighed, slumping tiredly on her throne. “I must believe you, mustn’t I? But tell me then, how will these two… girls change anything in the world?”
Darrick gripped his daughters’ hands tightly.
“Give them the freedom of these lands. Give them the right of entrance, the right to be entranced at every step of the way. Let their imaginations run wild. Let them learn of us - all of us - and tell of us to their friends. Let them speak of us at every opportunity, write of us in every story, until our stories are told all around the world. Will you do that, Jane and Mary?”
“Of course we will!” Mary said eagerly.
Jane looked instead to her mother. “My friends say that when we tell these tales we tell lies of ourselves. That we make ourselves - our human selves - small and weak, as if we must always look to something magical to save us. They say that we can save ourselves without the need of magic. The real world is all that we need.”
Ivy smiled. “What do you think?”
She thought for a while, biting on her lower lip. “I think that stories help us remember the important things in life. And maybe we don’t need magical beings to save us, but hearing what they’ve done may stir up courage in us to act like them and be our own magic.”
Xiuhcoatl slithered up to her. “And what would you tell them about me?”
Jane shrugged. “I suppose I would need to find out more about you to tell them anything.”
“You could make me a wise and courageous snake who saved your life.”
“But that would be a lie.”
“Aren’t all stories lies?”
Jane shook her head. “No. Stories are the truth dressed up in other clothes.”
Baba Yaga smiled. “But there are always two sides to a story.”

Next: Yara-ma-yha-who
Back to the theme list.

---

From Wikipedia:

In Aztec religion, Xiuhcoatl [ʃiʍˈkoːaːt͡ɬ] was a mythological serpent, it was regarded as the spirit form of Xiuhtecuhtli, the Aztec fire deity, and was also an atlatl wielded by Huitzilopochtli. Xiuhcoatl is a Classical Nahuatl word that literally translates as "turquoise serpent"; it also carries the symbolic and descriptive meaning, "fire serpent".
Xiuhcoatl was a common subject of Aztec art, including illustrations in Aztec codices and its use as a back ornament on representations of both Xiuhtecuhtlu and Huitzilopochtli.[1] Xiuhcoatl is interpreted as the embodiment of the dry season and was the weapon of the sun.[2]The royal diadem (or xiuhuitzolli, "pointed turquoise thing") of the Aztec emperors apparently represented the tail of the Xiuhcoatl, the fire serpent.[3]

#atozchallenge: Wyrm

Previous: Vila

“How do we know that we can trust this old crone?” The Fairy Queen said, her voice harsh in the silence. “Who can speak for what she says? What do we know of her truly?”
Ataneq pushed his way out of the crowd. “Your Majesty,” he bowed. “I am the adlet that Baba Yaga spoke of earlier. I do not know if all she posits is correct, but I, for one, can testify that as a wanderer from a far land, I have found my space in this kingdom of yours for the past fifty years.”
“But we know nothing of you either,” the Queen said.
“And so we are in a bind,” Alexei mumbled to himself. “Unless -” His face brightened as he raised his voice. “There is one, my Queen, who is eldest of all and who exists in all legends. The eldest of the dragons.”
“The Great Wyrm! But who would call him? Who would dare raise him from his slumber?” the Fairy Queen asked.
“The ancient enemy,” Darrick whispered under his breath, even as Baba Yaga’s face blanched. “The great evil whose blood even the earth rejects.”
“Wisest and most dangerous,” the Elven King added.
“So will none call him to council?” The Queen looked expectantly at the gathered creatures. Soft murmurs arose, each shaking their heads.

Then a tremor shook the ground where they stood. Great terror fell upon the fairy creatures, and they scrambled away or took to flight as they could, as the ground rumbled and trembled and grumbled. Heat arose in waves, and a strong wind blew. With the great beat of huge wings, a large scaled creature landed in front of the silver throne, scoring the ground where his talons touched.
“Above the four winds I was flying, and I heard my name. Who of you puny little creatures dared call upon the Great Wyrm?” His voice was like deep gravel.
“We do not call you with impunity, Eldest,” the Fairy Queen said, drawing herself up as regally as she could. Beside the great creature, she was like a doll of ice, fragile, breakable. “This old crone speaks of the end of our days, and we would seek to find the truth of it.”
The dragon turned a liquid gold eye on Baba Yaga. “Our days will always come to an end, and yet we are reborn with each new telling. Which end do you refer to, Mother Rus?”
“The end of all ends, o Dragon. When they tell our stories no more.”
The dragon laughed. “My story has been retold for six thousand years, from when I was the serpent who deceived Eve until now, when I am the great Smaug who hoards the gold as the King under the Mountain. Why would I worry about my end?” He grinned at the Elven King. “Ask our dear elves who have taken on a whole new life in this generation.”
“But when our stories end, o Dragon, where will you reside? Even if your story is told to perpetuity, without us, you are nothing.”
The dragon fell silent. “Pah, it is none of my business,” he finally said, stretching wide his wings and flying away in a rush of wind.

Next: Xiuhcoatl
Back to the theme list.

---

From Wikipedia:

The Latin word draco, as in the constellation, Draco, comes directly from Greek δράκων, (drákōn, gazer). The word for dragon in Germanic mythology and its descendants is worm(Old English: wyrm, Old High German: wurm, Old Norse: ormr), meaning snake or serpent. In Old English, wyrm means "serpent", and draca means "dragon". Finnish lohikäärmedirectly translated means "salmon-snake", but the word lohi- was originally louhi- meaning crags or rocks, a "mountain snake".[citation needed] The prefix lohi- in lohikäärme is also thought to derive from the ancient Norse word lógi, meaning "fire", as in Finnish mythology there are also references to "tulikäärme" meaning fire-snake, or fire-serpent.
In the modern period, the European dragon is typically depicted as a huge, fire-breathing, scaly, horned, lizard-like creature; the creature also has leathery, bat-like wings, four legs, and a long, muscular prehensile tail. Some depictions show dragons with feathered wings, crests, fiery manes, ivoryspikes running down its spine, and various exotic decorations.
Though a winged creature, the dragon is generally to be found in its underground lair, a cave that identifies it as an ancient creature of earth. Possibly, the dragons of European and Mid-Eastern mythology stem from the cult of snakes found in religions throughout the world.

#atozchallenge: Sylph

Previous: Ragana

The fairy flew around the place where she had been standing, looking confused. After a few passes, she flew back to the adlet. The old woman gazed upon him and chuckled. It has been a long time, my friend, but Baba Yaga remembers. Do you?
She watched the proceedings for a while, frowning a little at displeasure to discover her story being told by the Leanen Sidhe, but she hadn’t sworn her to silence. Still, what was the adlet waiting for? Was he so hopeless he still could not find the answer? Or maybe he’d given up and was happy to remain as he was. She hadn’t thought about that.
“You’re still here.”
Baba Yaga turned to look at the beautiful creature that hovered in the air beside her. “Yes.”
“Why do you not show yourself to the court? Are you afraid?”
“Why do you not show yourself to the court?” Baba Yaga asked in return.
“It has nothing to do with me. Whether the man lives or dies, he cannot harm a sylph so we do not care about his fate, not like the others. Why then should I stand in attendance?” The sylph yawned.
“Does he not?”
The sylph gestured vaguely. “He has not thus far.”
“But what if he does in the future?”
“Then he dies along with us, so we care not either.”
“What a strange stance to take.”
“Well? I have answered your question. Will you not return the favour?”
“Ah, well. I have my reasons. I am not afraid, and yet, I will not go where my words are not welcome. I feel in my heart that the Queen will not welcome my presence now.”
“That is true. Her anger still burns. Are you not a creature of the fairy folk?”
The old crone cackled. “I am, but I am not.”
“Like the elves?”
A look akin to envy crossed the woman’s face. “Alike and not yet alike. We share a similar fate - one your queen has not yet come to terms with.”
“Interesting,” the sylph said. “Well, I will go then. It seems they have settled on something, I cannot tell what.” With that, she flew away.
Baba Yaga turned her attention again to the court.

Darrick had recovered his colour and most of his composure. He sat between Jane and Euthalia, listening with horror to Ivy’s tale. He remembered well his long illness that baffled the village’s best healers. He had steadily lost strength for no reason, slipping in and out of dreams, never knowing what was real or what was not. And suddenly, he had sat up one morning feeling better. His recovery was touted as a miracle, his wife had told him it was the herbs she had been giving him. The herbs she had been relying on more and more.
“Don’t worry, Father. Everything will be alright,” Jane said, giving him a look. It was the look he’d seen many time on Ivy’s face - calm, knowing, assured, telling him that he was fretting for nothing.
“How will we get out from here?” he surveyed the centaurs that guarded them. They looked grim. In the far distance, he saw the ogre and shuddered.


Next: Trolls
Back to the theme list.

---

From Wikipedia:

Sylph (also called sylphid) is a mythological spirit of the air.[1] The term originates in Paracelsus, who describes sylphs as invisible beings of the air, his elementals of air.[2] There is no known substantial mythos associated with them.

#atozchallenge: Baba Yaga

Previous: Adlet

“What happened then?” Jane waited for Ataneq to continue, but he seemed to be caught up in his memories. Eventually, he shook his head and looked up at her with a wistful smile.
“I took what they could give me - blankets, what food they could spare, a mended spear. As I left, they played the drums and chanted to drive away the evil spirits. I travelled for many days, over tundra and ice alike, always following the setting sun. Before long, I left the familiar places of my youth, continuing on until even the trees changed and the snow melted, until one day people stared at me with curiosity rather than fear. I knew then that I had left the land of my people. Now it was the name of Baba Yaga that terrified them, rather than what I was.”
“Who was she?”
“Was? You mean ‘is’, I think. I’ve not heard of her death yet, though she has lived for hundreds of years. She’s a frightening old woman, weathered and wise. She can be friend or foe, defender or accuser. One does not search for her lightly, and yet, I did. I wonder now at my innocence. Maybe I was too desperate then to be afraid, or maybe I felt I had nothing left to lose. After all, I was feared by my own people, though I was nothing to be afraid of. So I searched for her, asking everyone I could. Most would not answer me, and those who did were increasingly vague. It was like picking out a specific snowflake from a drift of snow.”
Ataneq looked up to see that Jane had fallen asleep by the fire. Tenderly, he picked her up and laid her on the bed, tucking her under the blankets. She stirred.
“Did you ever find her?” she asked sleepily.
Ataneq settled himself by the bed. “Yes, I did. Word of my search soon spread and one day, I found Baba Yaga waiting for me in a snowless clearing.


“Mother, can you help me?’ Ataneq asked, approaching the old woman with caution. He tried to stop himself from staring in awe at the hut that squatted behind her on long, spindly legs. 
“Why should I help you, foreigner?” She didn’t lift her eyes from her mortar and pestle.
“Because no one else can, Mother. The shaman of my home has sent me to you.”
“He has, has he? And why does he think that a crone of Rus has power over that which the seas breaks against? Is not the sea more powerful than a mere woman?”
Ataneq shrugged. “I do not know, Mother. But you are my only hope. Can you help me?”
The old woman stared at him with sharp eyes, seeming to see into his soul. “What will you do for me in return?” she finally said.
“I have nothing to offer,” Ataneq stammered. “What do you wish for?” 
Baba Yaga shook her head, clicking her tongue. “Come back when you do,” she replied, going into her hut. 
He watched despondently as the hut rose on its legs and wandered deeper into the forest.


Checking that Jane had truly fallen asleep, Ataneq curled up by the fireplace, pondering the long-forgotten question.
“What do I have to offer?” he asked the crackling fire. After a hundred years and a million steps, he still did not know.

Next: Centaur
Back to the theme list.
---

From Wikipedia:

In Slavic folklore, Baba Yaga (/ˈbɑːbə jəˈɡɑː/) is a supernatural being (or one of a trio of sisters of the same name) who appears as a deformed and/or ferocious-looking woman. Baba Yaga flies around in a mortar, wields a pestle, and dwells deep in the forest in a hut usually described as standing on chicken legs. Baba Yaga may help or hinder those that encounter or seek her out and may play a maternal role and has associations with forest wildlife. According to Vladimir Propp's folktale morphology, Baba Yaga commonly appears as either a donor, villain, or may be altogether ambiguous.

---

Reminder! The Love in Penang giveaway runs until 5/1!

#atozchallenge: Adlet

Jane kept a wary eye on the sky as she hurried along the path. Everyone knew that you shouldn't get caught out in the forest when the sun began to dip - and here she was, the sun dangerously low and a storm brewing.
“Were those herbs worth it?” she imagined the village sentry asking, refusing to reopen the gates. “Of course they’re worth it,” she mumbled under her breath. What else has been sustaining Mother? But she had gone too far and forgotten the time. A howl echoed in the distance. Jane hiked up her skirts and tried to run.
Barely thirty steps later, the rain began to pour down in torrents. “Who shelters in the forest at night? Only stupid girls like you,” she berated herself, scanning her surroundings for a place to wait out the storm. A dim light just off the side of the path attracted her attention. Her hesitation lasted seconds.
The neat little cottage was quiet.
“Hello?” Jane called as she hurried under the shelter of the porch. She wondered at the lack of the customary lamp by the doorway; the light she had seen shone through a single window. “Is anyone home?”
The door opened at her touch and she called out again. Nothing stirred, so she closed the door and hurried to the fireplace. She had almost fallen asleep in the warmth when the door slammed shut behind her.
“Who’s that?” she asked, her voice thin and shrill in her ears.
There was the sound of scuffling before a deep voice answered, “Shouldn't I be the one asking who you are?”
“I’m sorry, I didn't mean -”
“No, don’t turn around!”
Jane froze.
“You - you can stay. But - just don’t turn and look at me.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Jane tried to speak in measured tones.
“No - nothing. You’ll just… Just don’t.”
Jane kept her eyes on the fire, trying not to react to the noises behind her or the growing smell of wet dog. “What are you?” she finally asked.
Sudden silence. “What do you mean?”
Taking a deep breath, she turned around. The face of a young man stared at her, his eyes widening in horror. His four feet scrabbled against the wooden floor as he backed into the corner, holding out a towel as if to hide himself.
“What are you? Half man, half dog?”
“I’m an adlet. I won’t harm you,” he said quickly. “I don’t eat humans. I mean, there are some who - but I’m not - I don’t.”
“You were the howl I heard in the forest,” she said in a near whisper.
“You heard me?”
“Were you following me?”
“No, I was out hunting. I didn't know you were in the area. The rain washed away your smell.”
“You don’t smell that great yourself.”
He blushed. “I was caught in the rain.”
“You’re shivering!” she exclaimed. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you,” she said as she approached him. “You’d better come to the fire and dry out.”
They stared at each other, each trying to judge the other’s intentions.
“I’ll go this way,” he gestured to the left, “and you can stay that way.” Jane nodded. A comfortable distance maintained, the adlet sighed as he settled down beside the fire. Jane sat opposite him, watching him with curiosity across the hearth.
“Do you have a name? I’m Jane.”
“Ataneq.” He stared dreamily at the fire. “Once, a long time ago, I used to be human.”

The transformation had taken Ataneq by surprise. 
“What have you done, Keelut?” he cried at the fleeing back of his attacker. Picking up his broken spear, he trudged back to the winter encampment. 
He was greeted by the points of many arrows, spears and harpoons. Eventually Qannik took wary steps towards him.
“What is it, wife?” he asked, dropping his hands to his sides. “Why do you cringe from me? What have I done?”
“Ataneq - you are - you are not welcome here anymore.”
“What?”
“You would be a danger to our children. And you know we cannot spare any eyes to keep watching over you.” And you would hate it too, she added silently, hoping that he would understand. 
“You know I wouldn't eat them. You know I have more honour than that!” Ataneq protested. “I would give my life to protect my people!”
“We know, but you wouldn't be able to hunt either. You can’t bear your responsibility to this tribe.”
“Will you come with me?”
She looked down at her feet.
“You must go alone, Ataneq.” Ataneq looked up to see that the shaman had approached them, still in his mask, as if he had just emerged from a trance.
“What have you seen?”
“The spirits say this is an evil thing, too strong for them. But I have heard the echo over the wind. One who may help.”
“Who?”
“Baba Yaga.”
Ataneq frowned. “Who is he? I have not heard of him.”
The shaman shook his head. “She is not of our culture. She lives where the sun sets. That is all I know.”

Continuing in Baba Yaga on 4/2!
Return to theme list.
---

From Wikipedia:

The Adlet (or Erqigdlet) are a race of creatures in the Inuit mythology of Greenland, as well as the Labrador and Hudson Bay coasts. While the word refers to inland native American tribes, it also denotes a tribe with dogs' legs and human bodies.^[1] The lower part of the body of the canine Adlet is like that of a dog and their upper part is like a man's. All Adlet run quickly, and usually encounters between men end up in battle, with man as the victor.^[2]

In Inuit lore, they are often portrayed as in conflict with humans, and are supposed to be taller than Inuit and white people.^[3] In some stories they are cannibals.^[4] Inuit from Labrador use the term Adlet, tribes west of the Hudson Bay use the word Erqigdlit.^[1] The monstrous race begotten by the Adlet was identified with inland native Americans by the Labrador and Hudson Bay tribes; Inuit from Greenland and Baffin Land, which had no native American neighbors, use the term to refer to the half human, half canine creatures.^[5]

---

P/S in other matters, visit the GIVEAWAY page to win a copy of Love in Penang! (Yes, I edited that. IT'S ME!)