Fantasy Creature Spotlight: Foxen

by Gilbert Peppers

Fantasy Creature Spotlight: Foxen

  By Gilbert Peppers

  Copyright 2011 Gilbert Peppers

  Other Fantasy Creature Spotlight stories:

  Gnomes

  Foxen

  Fantasy Creature Spotlight: Foxen

  Chapter One: Vision Quest

  Nestled on the edge of a dense forest in the magical realm known as the Veil lived a tribe of fox-like beings known as Foxen. The Foxen prized their homeland above all else and worshipped it as their ancestors did for countless generations. To them, honoring the land meant living in harmony with it. They spoke to the spirits of the land to ask for plentiful harvests and ward off evil spirits. When the spirits could not protect them, they made sure every villager knew proper martial techniques to defend the people.

  Young Maoh groaned all the louder with each new whelp he received at the end of his grandpa’s banto blade. Their training swords comprised of long strands of dried grass tied together at various points to give them strength. Wounds from such weapons left sore bruises but nothing more. Every young male learned three things as they grew up: how to farm the land, how to commune with the spirits, and how to wield their clan weapon.

  For Maoh, farming came easily, but the other lessons escaped him. His grandpa continually beat him until either Mother called with supper or Maoh fell over from exhaustion. He could live with being insufficient at sword technique. What truly embarrassed him was that his younger brother contacted his first guardian spirit a whole year ago. Maoh felt incompetent and out of place in the spirit chamber. Despite his best efforts, no spirit ever called out to him.

  “You are unfocused,” his whiskered grandpa said.

  A nasty blow to the boy’s head accompanied the comment. Maoh fell to his backside attempting to avoid any following attacks. His grandpa relented and put his own weapon away. Today’s session ended in the same fashion that all his training seemed to do. The setting sun signaled that supper time approached and the two men remained silent the entire walk back to the den.

  Mother waved from the doorway, a clear signal that food awaited them. Maoh quickly adjusted his tunic to cover the worst of the stinging lumps but he could not hide the growing bump on his forehead. He sighed in resignation as soon as his mother noticed and began to fuss over him.

  “You are going to knock all the boy’s brains out before his eighteenth birthday, Father,” she complained.

  “The boy refuses to learn,” Grandpa huffed. “He goes through the motions but he does not hear the ancestors speaking to him. He cannot feel the spirits around him guiding his actions. Instead, he flails around like a wild baboon.”

  The only thing Grandpa enjoyed talking about more than how useless Maoh’s sword skills were was the ancient spirits. Foxen placed ancestral spirits paramount in the hierarchy of all spirits. If an ancestor appeared during a vision quest, it signaled greatness beyond any other honor. Maoh’s brother received a visit from their departed grandmother when he learned of his guardian. If his runt of a sibling received protection from the armadillo, Maoh needed something spectacular to make up for his tardiness.

  “Leave the boy alone,” Mother fussed. “Some men aren’t meant to be warriors you know.”

  She carefully washed the dirt from her son’s face and arms while Grandpa continued to ignore them. A healing salve made from crushed plants cooled the burning whelps and helped reduce the swelling. Her meal, as always, satisfied hunger with extraordinary flavors. Vegetables and meat found new meaning when Mother handled them. To her, cooking honored the spirits as much as farming and fighting.

  Maoh excused himself early and headed for bed. His shame at yet another sound defeat from his grandpa drove him to silence. The few words he did utter confirmed his love for his mother and a simple good night to his grandfather. His brother no longer shared their room since his selection by the elders to be a perimeter guardian. The armadillo marked little Taco as a fierce warrior who would hunt the wild bear at the forest edge. Maoh kept his brother’s side of the room in perfect order for the few times Taco returned home to visit.

  His uneasy dreams brought great turmoil to him. Feral beasts ran rampant through the village, slaughtering the people with abandon. Mother and Grandpa fought bravely but could not hold off the army of frightening animals. Maoh found himself surrounded by teeth and claws. He screamed for help and found Mother at his side, gently shaking him to bring him out of his nightmare. Her concerned look wanted to ask him about the dream but she came for other reasons that night.

  “The council wants you to face the final trial tonight,” she said in a whisper.

  The final trial tested a warrior’s skill at combat and spirit speaking during a vision quest. Since Maoh failed at all those tasks, he never expected his trial to be in the near future. He soon realized his mother’s sincerity as Grandpa held two packed bags for their journey to the shrine.

  “I’m not ready,” Maoh said.

  “No, you are not,” Grandpa agreed. “But it is tonight the council wishes to test you so tonight you shall be tested.”

  Nothing else remained to talk about during their journey. Maoh kissed his mother goodbye and followed obediently. The trail to the spirit shrine wound around town and through the forest to a secluded glade. A small hut covered the entrance to a narrow cave. Squeezing through the rounded rocks did not bother the lithe Foxen. Their dexterity allowed them to make good time through the cave to the very heart of the spirit chamber.

  Twelve elders sat in a circle around the burning fire pit. A statue representing one of the great ancestors stood behind each one. Maoh wondered if any of the statues depicted his family line. He wanted to ask but he knew the ceremony required absolute silence. A patterned shawl marked his place near the fire where he kneeled and inhaled the smoky air. Someone began chanting the old language, no doubt asking the spirits to take this stupid young boy and teach him the true meaning of being one of the people.

  Nothing happened for Maoh. He remained in place for hours while he concentrated on the flame and his breathing. Either exhaustion or delirium caused him to begin swaying in turn with the fire. His eyes ached from staring at the bright flame for so long. The smoke burned his lungs and made him dizzy. Finally, he fell into a deep sleep.

  The sudden disappearance of the crackling fire surprised Maoh. He opened his eyes and found the cave to be completely empty. It figures they would leave him here alone after wasting their night trying to send him to the spirit realm. He stood gingerly and stretched his aching limbs. The small cave bounced echoes around eerily.

  Maoh noticed the statues seemed to stare directly at him. His frayed nerves made him paranoid. He laughed at his reaction and started for the exit. One of the statues turned as he walked past. The unexpected movement startled Maoh and caused him to trip. The other statues joined the first one’s gaze. Each pair of eyes began to glow and one by one, the statues came to life with the spirits of his ancestors.

  They began chanting his name repeatedly and indicated he should venture deeper into the cave. Spirits blocked his only path out of the cave so he accepted their direction and walked timidly into the next chamber. A single pedestal awaited him in the center of a round room. The object did not appear man made but looked as if it grew straight out of the stone floor. A slender sword with an intricate wolf’s head handle lay atop it.

  Maoh wondered if he should take the magnificent sword. He thought of no other reason the spirits wanted him to find it so he lifted the perfectly balanced blade from its resting place. As soon as the metal touched his flesh, another spirit walked out from behind the dais. A red fox sniffed the air and looked Maoh in his eyes. It seemed to inspect something deep within the boy,
looking past his surface into his soul. The fox howled loudly in approval of what it found.

  The jarring sound woke Maoh from his trance and nearly knocked him backward except Grandpa was waiting to catch him. He found the beautiful sword lying in his lap as if it had been there the entire time. The fire burned low in the pit, a signal that this ceremony took many more hours than normal. Maoh looked to each of the elders in turn and showed them his sword. He told them his story of meeting the statues and the fox spirit. Each of the elders shared a concerned look amongst themselves.

  “Maoh Blackwater,” one of them spoke. “Our people are descended from the ancient fox but very few are chosen as his champion. His favor is your blessing. This sword proves his intention for you is great. It is our decision that you shall leave the village and venture into the larger world to discover your destiny.”

  Maoh wanted to object. His responsibilities lay with his mother and the farm. Grandpa quickly silenced him with a stern look and turned him away from the shrine. Dozens of questions filled their trip home but few answers came. Grandpa never recalled a guardian of the fox his entire life. Such was the rarity of those chosen by the great fox.

  “Tomorrow,” he guaranteed, “the entire village will celebrate your journey.”

  Maoh could not help feeling as if the entire village wanted to banish him. Maybe the vision quest was an elaborate ruse designed to dispose of him. Whatever the reason, he hoped his future led back to his family. He held his sword tightly to help calm his nerves. Mother cried for hours about the news. Proud as everyone seemed to be, Maoh hid his fears well.

  The next evening, the villagers not out hunting erected a massive bonfire to honor the fox spirit. Maoh sat in his place of honor to watch the proceedings. Everyone from farmer to shaman shook his hand or kissed his cheek. The ceremony consisted of rhythmic dancing and drumming. One of the shaman’s daughters asked Maoh to dance with her. Maoh felt extremely uncomfortable at gatherings like this one. Dancing terrified him.

  He squeezed his sword, the gift from fox, and declared he would love to dance with her. Strangely, he found he actually enjoyed the experience. He lost himself in the pounding and stomping of the dance. Twirling, spinning, and touching each other, the pair entered their own private trance. They grew closer together and deeper into the trance as the night wore on until the crescendo of drumming alerted them to the ceremony’s end. They discovered they were the last two remaining dancers and that they moved very close together indeed.

  Maoh pulled away from the girl sheepishly and waved to everyone, signaling the official end of the celebration. Tomorrow morning he would leave the village for his soul journey. He found heaps of gifts and supplies outside his family’s den when he woke. Food, clothes, and various tools littered their yard. Grandpa helped sort through it all and packed what he felt would be useful for the trip. Finally, Maoh realized only goodbyes remained.

  “Goodbye, Mother, I’ll miss you,” he said tearfully. “Thank you, Grandfather, for teaching me so much and never giving up on me.”

  His family embraced him and waved goodbye until the young Foxen disappeared over the horizon.