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The Corn Maiden, Chapter 1, part 1


Six Moons Earlier, Seven times Seven Days Walk to the East

It was not the kind of day one expected to meet death.

The fae scrambled to greet Dindi as she skipped through the terraced fields of ripening corn. The rolling green hills stretched out in every direction under a perfect blue sky marked only with the V of migrating swans. The ripening corn smelled sweet and fresh. Innumerable clouds of tiny willawisps hazed the fields like sparkling mists. Maize sprites clambered nimbly to the tips of the straight-backed stalks to wave at Dindi when she brushed by them. Pixies of every color fluttered on luminous wings around her head, making her dizzy.

“Come dance with us! Come dance with us!” they urged in a babble of flute voices.

“Not today!” She waved them away.

I could be taken for Initiation rites any day now, Dindi thought. And all omens indicate I’ll fail miserably. Like my mother. And my grandmother. And every single person in my whole clan since the days of the Lost Swan Clan’s great-mother.

She wore a basket strapped to her back, she carried a clay pot and her ears still buzzed with a tiresome list of chores from her great aunt. Great Aunt Sullana had also added a number of shrill warnings, Don’t cavort with the fae, don’t dilly-dally, don’t forget to prepare for Barter Day, all of which Dindi intended to ignore. Oh, she would do her chores, eventually, and she wouldn’t dream of missing Barter Day – the Tavaedi Troop would dance, she mustn’t miss that – but she needed to practice. She had told no one of her ambition to be invited to become a Tavaedi warrior-dancer, but she practiced alone every day.

Why does no one in my clan have any magic? I have to make myself different.

The first scream she heard was so distant and faint, she didn’t recognize it as human. She dismissed it. It must be a bird hunting – perhaps an eagle. Slight unease nagged her, so she went so far as to look up, and indeed, saw something large and winged circling higher up in the hills. Maybe a condor?

Another scream curdled the air. Startled, the pixies and willawisps scattered.

That’s no bird.

The Corn Maiden, Prologue

There she was – almost hidden by the soaring sequoias. Between the trees, Kavio glimpsed a solitary dancer, graceful and pale as new maize. Who was she, and why did she dance secluded and all alone, far from the kiva and tor?

He wove through the forest to spy on her, though he told himself he should not. Perhaps she had come to the woods to practice alone, as he had. The possibility intrigued him – who else besides he had no need of the guidance of the troop? Who else besides he would dare?

She must have had magic, for she was human and not fae. Humans without magic danced only to hex, and would be killed in turn, if caught. Yet never had he seen a style quite like hers. She wore no ritual costume – neither wooden mask, nor cornhusk cape – only white doeskin hemmed with a maze of rainbow beads. Her hair flew about her, unbraided and wild. Though her aura showed no light, he had the odd sense she shimmered with power which warmed the cool December wood with hint of hidden Mays.

She circled the stump of a fir tree, as if it were her partner in a fertility dance. He knew the dance of course – it was meant for two, not one.

Kavio debated himself. His mischief won.

He crept up behind her. Stealth he had honed in hunting and battle served him well, and the broad trunks of sequoias and pines provided ample cover. The dance soon called for her partner to lift her, and she leaned toward the tree stump. He made his move.

In rhythm with her sways, he placed his hands about her waist and lifted her into the spin, above his head and down again. She responded as if she had expected him, and followed his lead into the next exultant sequence, toss and twirl, shimmy and turn. Fancy foot work followed on, sweetly easy. In this sequence of the fertility dance, both partners faced forward, so he could not see her face. The top of her head just reached his chin. Her hair smelled of flowers.

They flowed together like partners who had practiced days in each other’s arms. She amazed him.

He dipped her back, and only then met her gaze.

“Dindi!” He choked on his dismay.

Dindi had been tested during Initiation, he knew, and proven without magic. For her to dance was taboo – so decreed the ancient ways. The law left him no choice.

He must kill her.