An entirely non-earthshattering image for this #StoryPromptOfTheWeek, simply because it’s sunny outside and I happy to have a photo of a very summery flower from my garden. This year’s crop are not quite out yet but it certainly doesn’t feel like it will be long.
By the way, I have no idea what plant it is, which is likely why I’m more willing than usual to make up some random nonsense. Not that I need much excuse! I have a vague recollection that it might be some kind of lily. Hence the title. (Note: the flowering plant described in the story below is entirely fictitious. My thumbs are so un-green I’ve killed several cactuses by over- or under-watering.)
Faltha’s path wove between the tendrils of climbing roses that Nyree and Malachite had woven into complicated decorative forms. She could have gone around, of course, or above even, but she preferred this route. If asked, she would surely give some excuse of shelter from the unexpectedly warm sunshine, and that was part of it, but the real truth was simpler. Twisting and swooping between thick, thorny stems at high speed was fun.
She reached the end of the row. Not far from her destination. The thrill of her flight blended into excitement as she considered the sight she was about to witness. Even as her soul soared she felt a moment of conflicting dread for what was also coming.
“Ah, Faltha,” said Malachite. His voice dripped with smugness. “Just in time.”
She only had herself to blame. She’d known that Malachite had been right about when the flamelily would bloom. Of course, she’d had to argue anyway. It was Malachite after all.
Faltha landed on a small stone bird bath near Malachite and the flowerpot that was the focus of attention. Beside Malachite stood Cauldron. The huge spider’s legs quivered in anticipation. Rightly so. This plant was special. Cauldron had rescued it from a logging area in the amazon several years before. Flamelilies grew only in small numbers and now only a few areas remained with viable specimens. Cauldron had managed to save three plants before the saws and mulchers and bulldozers moved in.
A bud twitched again. Then it burst open and the beautiful red petals pressed past their casing and unfolded revealing the bright oranges and yellows at the flower’s heart. Yellow stamens waved gently in the breeze bearing their deep red anthers high to tempt insects with their load of pollen.
The sight of nature in action would have been reason enough for Faltha to be present. Truth and beauty had been the ideals of the old Seelie Court, before it had fallen aside to make way for the Tower Court. And what was more truly beautiful than nature unfettered?
“Faltha, if you would do the honours, please?” said Cauldron. The ancient spider’s voice trembled as he spoke.
Faltha flitted forward to hover next to the flower. Dexterous though he was, Cauldron’s eight feet were each wider than Faltha’s whole wingspan. She could harvest the pollen from the delicate flower far more safely than anyone else at the Tower. She lifted a tiny (to everyone else) glass vial from her bag and got to work.
The plan was to harvest only half the pollen. Even that was to be split into two separate samples. One for Cauldron’s potions. The magical properties of a flamelily were legendary and varied from simple medicines through to intricate scrying potions and just about everything else you could imagine. The other portion of precious powder was to be used to pollenate the other flowers, once they too bloomed. Hopefully, in time, they would be able to grow more. Perhaps one day enough to plant some back out in the wild.
She drifted around the flower, making sure her job was done thoroughly. She leaned in for a closer look.
“Yup, that’s our load,” she said.
Faltha backed up to get a wider view of the flower. Behind her something softly went pop. The something hit her back, tangling her right wing. Her left fluttered frantically for a split second of wrong response, before her mind caught up. She folded into a tight ball and fell into the soft soil in the pot.
Above her a second flamelily erupted into beauty. And a third. Then a fourth.
“It seems you were right, Faltha,” said Malachite. “We have four flowers out today, after all.”
The lack of smugness in his tone was delicious.
Brandon Lim 