The Three Miracles of Val Morga

A fairy tale by Mitchell German

In ancient times, the time of gods, was a kingdom without a name. The people of the kingdom were fickle and indecisive, and
names were never kept for long. The nameless kingdom enjoyed the attentions of a nameless goddess, a joyful deity of good
fortune, and reaped a grand harvest each year. The ruler of the kingdom was a proud and tricky one however. He would boast
of his well fed people and good fortune to the northern kingdom. The north was a tragic nation, who had abandoned their cruel
god of war and been cast into the cold bitter winter of the mountains. No crops could be grown and the animals were weak and
thin. Many times did the norths Duke call for aid from the nameless kingdom, begging for food. But the king simply put on a
serpents grin and lied about the state of his kingdoms harvest. Be it a strong winter or a vicious bandit raid, each lie was a
death sentence for even more of the northerners. And each time the Duke was denied the seed of hatred grew stronger in his
heart.
For many years this continued, the Duke approaching the king to request a small share of the kingdoms harvest, and the king
would lie out of greed. The princess, a much kinder royal than her father, would try each time to convince her father to give
even the smallest relief to the people of the winter bitten country. The king loved his daughter but would not grant this wish. He
made excuse after excuse, whether about the danger of a coming storm or offerings to the nameless goddess to justify his
avarice. She tried to petition the people to rise to the call, to help the northerners, but they were too set in their comfortable
ways to pay heed to a small frozen land.
Ten years passed, the Duke turned down time and again. On his tenth visit to the nameless kingdom the Duke came clad in
heavy armour, bedecked in twisted spikes and sinister edges, the pelt of a great wolf worn over its shoulders. The fire in the
Duke's eyes reminded all those who looked upon him of the years before, the days when the north had been a great kingdom
of merciless warriors and raiders. The Duke strode to the king, his armour gleaming darkly despite the light, and met his eye.
He spoke of a deal. In exchange for the surplus of the kingdoms harvest, there could be peace. When faced with this decision
the king looked down on the Duke and did what came naturally to his fickle heart.
He lied.
It wasn't long before panicked townsfolk from the northernmost reaches of the nameless kingdom began to trickle into the
capital. They brought stories of the iron warriors of old, winter touched raiders with the fire of hunger in their eyes. The king
realised his mistake too late, for the people of the north, whilst hungry and weak, were warriors at heart. Disciplined and driven,
they far outmatched the over fed and jovial people of the kingdom. Despair began to worm its way into the kings heart. The
princess urged her father to call for peace, to share with the northerners before it was too late. But the king was a stubborn fool
and refused, mustering his armies to put up a resistance no matter how feeble. Each night he pleaded with the nameless
goddess for aid, to bring fortune to his failing kingdom.
It was during a war meeting that the goddess gave her reply. Before a gathering of nobles assembled in the palace gardens,
the sky began to bend. An unnatural twilight fell over the skies, the horizons twisting as if they were fabric and dawn graced one
horizon as dusk descended on the other. And from the ethereal sky a figured appeared, wearing the glittering stars and radiant
sun as a cloak, the pale moon as a grinning mask and the brilliant azure sky as their flesh. They danced to the earth with the
disturbing grace of a serpent before the bewildered court. With a flourish of unnatural grace the creature introduced itself. I am
Val Morga it said, and I am here to allay your plight oh king. The being explained it was an agent of the nameless goddess sent
to save the kingdom from the northern kingdoms hatred. As many had before, peace was the first suggestion Val Morga made,
only to be met with refusal. But unlike the others, the sky spirit had another offer to make, another suggestion. It explained that
the nameless goddess had given it three miracles with which to help the king, three chances to turn the tide in his favour. The
king was wary however, and who could fault him. The goddess was loved by the people, but was known as a trickster and
bargainer. He demanded to know the price of these 'miracles'. Whatever you chose to sow o' king are your rewards to reap,
riddled Val Morga. Still sceptical, the king challenged Val Morga to perform one of these miracles. And Val Morga was happy to
oblige.
Procuring a small vial of liquid from the starry robes, Val Morga presented the glowing substance to the gathered nobles. They
declared the liquid as the very essence of a star and it would shine brightly in the dark as all stars do. Val Morga offered the vial
to the king, with the revelation that they had slipped the liquid into the drink of a traitor in the kings court so they would truly
have a shinning silver tongue. And as soon as the king had taken the vial Val Morga vanished with the wind, the sky churning
before setting right once more. The king cast his eyes over the assemble nobles, determined to find the traitor. He found him in
the pale form of his trusted advisor and friend, a man who had stood behind the king for many years. True to Val Morga's word
their tongue shined a gentle silver in the dying light. Gripped by a terrible fury the king ordered his friend cast into the
dungeons, unwilling to listen to a traitor.
Months passed in the kingdom, the skirmishes with the northerners growing larger and larger. The nameless kingdom lost
ground each day. Soon enough the Dukes army stood within a days march of the capital and the king feared defeat came with
them. The princess cried for peace, as did many other members of the courts, the people crying to their king to apologise
before all was lost. But the king turned his cheek, refusing to admit he was wrong. In desperation the king called to the heavens
for Val Morga to come once more. And come Val Morga did. They rose quietly from a fountain within the kings palace, their
cloak now a gentle mist, their mask made of an ice that was as white as cotton. They swept across the hall with their eerie
grace, and bowed their graceful bow. What do you seek oh king, uttered the aspiration of water, the familiar grin carved into the
mask of frost. The king explained his predicament, that he had to stop the northern army before it could reach the capital. He
requested of Val Morga to honour the second of their promised favours, and stop the armies approach. The spirit offered a
warning, that the cost would be great. The king did not care and bid it done. So with a heavy sigh Val Morga went on their way.

It was not until the next morning that Val Morga's work was noticed, a feat of incredible scope considering the miracle they had
performed. For miles beyond the capitals walls laid an ocean. Seemingly overnight, Val Morga had brought great amounts of
water before the kingdom and flooded the land that lay between the nameless kingdom and the furious northern folk. The king
cackled with glee, his enemies held at bay by the immense body of water. The people wailed in anguish however, for the water
had flooded the most of the fields the kingdom had. The northerners were stopped, but now the kingdom would surely starve.
But flood and starvation would not be the doom of the kingdom. Not a week after Val Morga's conjuration did the kings sentrys
spot sails on the horizon. The northern army had built a fleet from the ruins of towns caught in the flood and washed ashore;
great ramshackle ships made of wood and salvaged cloth. The king knew that it would take a great effort to stop the northern
fleet reaching the capital, one his army could not accomplish, scattered as they were by the ocean. The princess demanded the
king see sense, that he apologise and spare the kingdom the consequences of his lies. But once more the king refused,
stubborn and spiteful to the end.
Once more he called to Val Morga and once more Val Morga answered. But disturbingly, Val Morga appeared not by the
heaven or from water, but on its own two feet. No grand entrance, no cloth of heaven or mist. They came with a simple robe, a
mask of bone twisted into a frown and a sombre walk in place of a hearty prance. The king could hardly believe that the figure
before him was the spirit that had brought the ocean to the centre of land and captured a star. Nevertheless the king asked for
one more favour. Oh king, I warn thee most fiercely, Val Morga said with a foreboding weight. This final favour is grand and
only blood may excuse the spilling of blood, one will pay a dire price for it. But the king paid no heed to the warming, consumed
by fear and panic at the thought of the Duke and his fearsome army. Any price is worth it he cried. And with a heavy sigh, Val
Morga swept out of the hall.
What the king expected of the spirit none can say. Val Morga appeared as the northern men launched themselves from their
craft into the waters of the shore. With a great roar the tide swelled and it seemed for a terrible moment that a monster of
legend had come to devour them. With a massive crash the tide snapped like a set of monstrous jaws, the men nowhere to be
seen, and the water they had stood in turned a deep bloody red. From the terrible carnage rose Val Morga, clothed in bones
and blood, their mask a twisted sneer that seemed the horrible face of a demon. The anger of the northern men faltered before
a sight so terrible, and they fled with their broken ships back across the ocean, scattered but undefeated.
The king rushed to the shore with his men in tow to better see what had become of the northerners. Instead he found Val
Morga mournfully gazing the sea. The tide was red with blood, the scattered armour of the northerns drifting ashore. But each
suit was empty, not a corpse to be seen. The king demanded an explanation, to which Val Morga turned and presented their
arm, cut and bloody with a mortal wound. The king looked to the ocean and understood that the blood belonged to the spirit,
the men saved and striped by the very swell that took them. But when the king demanded to know why the spirit would pay
such a price for the kingdom, Val Morga simply removed their mask, the pale face of the princess revealed at last. To save my
people, my king, from your foolishness, whispered the princess. To save them from the man who would sacrifice his friends, his
people and his family. With those final words, the princess fell into the ocean, taken into the embrace of the cold waters of the
ocean.
The northerners were loathe to launch another attack on the nameless kingdom, defended as it was by a demon of blood and
war. To their surprise the king came across the ocean on ships of his own, haggard and lost. The Duke was wary when the king
threw himself at his feet begging forgiveness. He had lost enough he sobbed, and he would honour the memory of those he
lost even if that was all he could manage. He offered food and land to the northern folk to share with the broken people of the
kingdom in the hopes they could work together and build a better land, one of friendship and trust rather than lies and rivalry.
Then without another word the king left, travelling to places unknown to try and escape his shame.