The Goetari School
by G. W. McClary
Part 1 appears in this issue.
conclusion
I’d never been that close to the lake, which had been forbidden until now. It was skirted by cattails and marshlands. Our boots squelched in the mud.
“The beast is called Z’miy,” my Graduate told me softly, as we trudged through the marshland surrounding the lake. “You are not to speak to it, nor to look at it.”
I let out a little affirmative grunt to let him know I’d heard.
A short dock stabbed out into the murky water, which seemed to be our destination. My Graduate held out his hand at me, a signal to stay put, just before I reached the planks of wood. My Graduate crept out onto the dock and placed the baked egg on the edge. He trotted back to me, grabbed my hand, and led us away from the dock.
I heard a great and deep rumbling from within the lake. The water began to ripple, then tremble, then froth. Z’miy emerged, resting its small and detracted front paws on the deck. Its face was both human-like and dog-like, blinders covering its eyes, its fat pink tongue lolling out of its long jaws, crowned with algae-ridden fangs.
It panted and heaved, bobbing its long, serpentine tail, which was tipped with fins. The wings, like massive versions of what you’d find on a hawk, clung to its ribs. It was shivering as it lapped up the baked egg, letting out a satisfied grumble.
“You have done well,” Z’miy said to my Graduate. “Now, were there any who declined the gifting of alms?”
“Yes, my lord,” my Graduate answered, “but only the farmhouse to the northeast.”
“Ah, yes,” Z’miy wheezed. “The family of five, one son and two daughters?”
“Correct, lord.”
“Ah, such a shame.” The great beast’s brow furrowed with weariness as it spread its feathery wings, misting the surface of the lake with droplets as it shook them off. It pulled itself onto the dock, revealing its full size. Its body tapered down to a slender tail, the muscled hind legs not unlike a jerboa’s. The creature put its back to us and knelt down on the dock. My Graduate leapt upon its back, clutching his legs around its neck and seizing the reins.
“Run now to the surface and observe us,” my Graduate bellowed at me. “This is something you’ll want to see.” With that, he rode Z’miy off into one of the many caverns that dotted the craggy walls.
I raced to the staircase and made my way up through the blackened tree, scrambling out to the edge of the brush. They were just coming upon the farmhouse. Z’miy spat something onto the fields, what looked to be white-blue pellets. I thought they would surely destroy the already meager crops. Perhaps it was their punishment for not offering alms. I could see the farm denizens rushing out and scooping the pellets into buckets as Z’miy and my Graduate made their way back to the School.
“Well, Initiate, what did you think? Will you be courageous enough to ride Z’miy one day?” my Graduate asked me, once he had returned.
“What was that it rained down on the field?”
“Hail. Their crops for this season have been destroyed. Perhaps, next time, they’ll think twice before refusing alms.”
“But what if they didn’t have any baked eggs, or couldn’t afford to part with one? They have many children.”
“Such is the way. Come. It’s mealtime.”
I thought a long time about that creature raining hail on that farm and destroying the crops. There was some reconciliation, in that they made off with precious water, but why couldn’t it just rain hail across the land and cure the drought? I began to rehearse my inquiry for my Graduate, though I questioned whether I could muster the bravery to broach the subject.
* * *
One morning, my Graduate awakened me. “Come, it’s time for a Speaking Ritual.”
I rose from my pile of hay and dusted myself off, only spry because of my youth after a fitful night’s sleep. I followed my Graduate to a small, domed hut with no windows and a single round door.
“Enter,” my Graduate said, easing open the door, “and recite the words.”
I was greeted by the smell of incense burning. Inside were four candles burning on opposite sides of the circular floor. They rested on a tapestry that contained strange symbols in a circular pattern, with many pentagrams. The border of the circle was a snake eating its tail. In the center of the circle, enclosed within a square, was the word Master. Situated outside the circle was a triangle, which was facing east.
I entered, and my Graduate closed the door behind me, leaving me in the flickering glow of the candle. At the center of the circle was a small stone pedestal, on which sat the incense burner and the pendant I was to wear.
I donned the pendant and repeated the words, which my Graduate and I had been practicing for months in preparation, chanting exactly where he had instructed me. I felt the warmth coming off the candles. A figure appeared within the shadows that promenaded gaily on the walls. It was a man wearing a strange crown, riding a long creature that walked on all fours. Some kind of small bird was perched on his right fist.
Then began a conversation which I shall not reproduce here, lest the pact between myself and the demon be broken. It was from him that I learned the language of the beasts, one by one. Then came the matter of learning to control the weather.
“Come, Initiate, it’s time for one of your trials. Take this. You’ve earned it,” my Graduate said. He handed me my own iron axe. “In order to imbue it with the power to change the weather, you must cleave a scale from Z’miy and place it yourself onto the blade.”
We went to the lake, and just as before, my Graduate placed a baked egg on the dock. The creature slurped up the offering and positioned itself to be ridden, facing away from us. Its hide was covered in many scars, from who knows how many scales that had been slashed away.
“Now, Initiate! Strike its hide.”
I obeyed and brought the axe down on its hind leg, trying to aim for just a single scale, to minimize the damage. The pitiable beast let out a pained cry, like a dying horse.
“Quickly, fetch the scale before it’s dashed away.” I saw it gleaming on the dock, smattered with fresh blood. I snatched it up and we retreated from the dock.
I affixed the scale to the blade of my axe with the help of a blacksmith. I could feel some kind of pulsing electric power within it. All the while, my heart went out to that poor creature. I thought there must be a way to set it free.
Once my magical axe was assembled, my Graduate and I were called to the Master’s chambers on the outskirts of the city, up many flights of stairs to the top floor. I could see the lake in the distance through the holes in the walls. We entered and the two guards outside shut the door behind us.
“I see you’ve claimed your very own scale,” the Master said. “Your Graduate tells me you’re making excellent progress. Now comes another step on your path to Weather-Maker. Take out your axe, Initiate, and hold it like so.” The Master produced his own axe from his belt, extending it straight ahead. He arced it over his head and a cloud began to form directly above us. “Now you,” he said.
I imitated him, waving my axe over my head in a similar fashion, but no cloud appeared.
“Perhaps he isn’t the one after all,” he said to my Graduate. “But no matter. Train the boy and we’ll try again tomorrow.”
The Master fixed his gaze on me. “You cannot hide from me. Why do you hesitate? At least the other Initiates are courteous enough to answer me. But I must admire your fortitude. However, I must warn you to accept your fate, or there will be dire consequences for you and your family.”
* * *
My time at the school was nearing its end, and still I refused to bend to the Master’s will and use that corrupt power. I needed a baked egg, and I knew where to get one. I crept out of my cell and through the ruined city, up the stairs, and out through the blackened tree. I knew it wouldn’t be much to scale the fence and make my way to the chicken coop.
On the way, I espied the village and thought again of my family. I knew I couldn’t spare another moment away from my cell to visit them, but I fantasized about it nonetheless. I thought of relaying a written message to them somehow, but I didn’t want to alert them to my presence and face banishment, or worse, if there was a fate worse than that.
I’d convinced a jerboa to cause a distraction, for a modest fee of course, sometime before. I heard clanging and banging coming from the front porch. That was my signal. I hopped the fence and dashed into the coop, scooping up exactly two eggs, one for Z’miy and one for my long-legged accomplice. I wrapped them in cloth, just as my Graduate had done, and headed to our designated meeting point, a rock outcropping that would keep us out of sight.
The creature came hopping up to me, drool leaking from its beak. I tossed the egg. The jerboa gasped but caught the egg in its beak and crunched it down. “Many thanks,” the jerboa squeaked at me.
“And to you,” I replied, bowing.
Now I just had to find a way to bake the remaining egg undetected. I thought of getting another Initiate to conspire with me, but the risk was too great. My Graduate showed no signs of rebellion, so he was also out of the question. It had to be a solo endeavor.
The kitchen was unguarded and unpatrolled, but every second counted. I placed the egg in the stone oven, lit the coals, closed the lid, and waited. Endless minutes ticked by, though I never heard a sound. When the egg was quite cooked, I stashed it and headed back to my cell.
“Such tired eyes,” my Graduate said to me the next morning. “Don’t tell me the future Weather-Maker is having second thoughts?”
“No, it’s just... Perhaps the pressure is getting to me. Apologies.”
“It is no matter, Initiate. We’ve all known sleepless nights on our paths to ascension.”
I made a final trip to the surface, to the cemetery oasis, and made the call of the jerboa. One came bounding up after only a few minutes.
“Fair creature,” I addressed it, “I must borrow your nimble legs to warn those in the village and farmhouses of the coming disaster. Bend thine legs and kneel, that we might fly together.” The jerboa obeyed, and we made off, warning the people of the plains to take shelter in the mountains.
The next night, I made my way to the lake and presented the egg on the dock. As before, Z’miy emerged from the water and knelt to be ridden. I hopped onto the wheezing creature and dug in with my knees to grip its scaly body, still slick from the greenish water. I grabbed hold of the reins, and we took to the air, through the tunnel, Z’miy feeling his way, and up to the surface.
As soon as we breached the open air, I reached out and flipped open one of the blinders. The yellow eye locked onto a cloud above us, and rain immediately began to fall, bringing with it a gentle washing sound. I flipped up the other blinder. Soon all the clouds in the sky were gushing with rain as it fell upon the parched land.
We circled in the sky, and great waves of water came rushing down the mountains, flooding the plains. I prayed for the safety of the villagers and farmers, who were hopefully sheltered deep enough within the caverns to skirt the deluge.
I felt Z’miy’s wings losing strength as the flaps became sluggish, strained. The beast lost consciousness, and we plummeted down, directly toward the cemetery oasis, which was quickly becoming an island, toward the ruined underground city.
The crash was tremendous, flinging me off into the deeper waters around. The waves were heaving, and I struggled to keep my head above the fuming tide. Then came another crash, this one deeper within the earth. It was Z’miy colliding with the underground city. I waded over to a tall leafless tree and clambered up the branches to escape the water. It was there that I waited.
Thirsty as the plains were, they made short work of the flood and gulped it down. The city was indeed destroyed, this time for good. Exposed to the air, the verdant green began to spread once again across the land.
* * *
The people of the plains came down from the mountains, and I was reunited with my family. “So pale...” was all my mother could say. It had been nearly seven years since I’d seen them. We all worked together to rebuild the village and the farmhouses, and our crops were abundant, thanks to the water being restored.
I searched and searched for some sign of Z’miy, but found none. We did find the remnants of some kind of flying machine in the rubble of the underground city, but we all agreed that it should lie dormant and never be restored.
I must admit my heart pined time and time again for the School, and my Graduate, my fellow Initiates, even the Master, who were all surely lost to the flood. I thought it a fair enough sacrifice, but I wondered what other Masters lay waiting beyond the mountains, what befouled keepers of lost children. But let’s speak not of that any longer. My tale has been told, and for now that is enough.
Copyright © 2025 by G. W. McClary
