E Stricker - The Almanac

“We need a new Leader, someone who has the vision to lead us through these times.” He turned his head and looked at Illya

Illya felt his stomach turning over as Conna gave him a vaguely predatory smile. His thoughts felt slow, as if lodged in the riverbank mud. He could hardly comprehend what Conna was saying.

“I nominate Illya! The man with the book!” Conna yelled.

Cheering exploded from a surprisingly large portion of the crowd. Those who weren’t cheering looked around, stunned. Elias himself was pale, staring at the ground as if he wanted it to swallow him up.

Illya’s ears burned. He felt the pressure of their gazes shifting slowly from Conna to him as if the actuality of him was an afterthought to Conna.

For a moment, he thought he was going to be sick and lose whatever was left in his stomach right there in front of all of them. Then he saw Benja standing with his aunt and uncle at the back of the crowd.

They were all cheering. Benja was beaming and clapping his hands above his head. Samuel, who had come forward at some point in the commotion, and was looking Aaro over, looked up and gave him a small smile.

More people joined in the cheering as it went on, swept along with the crowd and the feelings that Conna had stirred. In their faces, he saw the hope that he had been unable to spark in them when he stood alone. He cleared his throat.

“I know we’re afraid of repeating their mistakes,” Illya said, finally finding his voice. “But I think that if we’re careful, we can learn from what they did. We don’t have a lot of choices. Either we can starve, or we can try something new. We risk making a mistake, but maybe we’ll survive.”

“If you ask me, a choice between definitely starving and probably surviving is no choice at all,” Charlie called out.

Impiri stood beside Elias, looking as pale as the snow that still lingered on the ground. Her eyes were bright and wild.

“Remember that I warned you,” she said and pulled open the door to the house. She disappeared, dragging Sabelle inside after her before she slammed the door.

“Alright then, let’s see if he can do it,” said a man.

“I told you. He saved us one time already, I knew there was something about him,” said another.

“Illya the Leader!” Conna said and the Patrollers took up the chant, and it spread through the crowd.

“Illya the Leader! Illya the Leader! Illya the Leader!”

HE SWALLOWED. HE wasn’t sure what was worse: the people who appeared downright surly or the ones that gazed up at him with wide eyes full of expectation. A sleepless night of thinking had not given him any kind of plan.

His mother’s raised eyebrows when she learned what had happened had not helped his confidence either. She had promised to support him, no matter what she thought of it all. Now, faced with the reality of what he was supposed to be doing, he was sure she had only said that because the alternative at this point was for them all to be thrown out. He didn’t want to be Leader at all, but everything had run away from him. All he had wanted was to make them listen and try planting. To be the head of this village would be like leading around a wild beast at the end of a leash, with nothing but a shield of bluffed confidence to keep it from devouring him.

What had Conna been thinking? Illya was seventeen, technically an adult but only barely, and Conna himself wasn’t much older. Elias had led the village for as long as Illya could remember. How could Conna think Illya could replace him?

They were all watching him, and the moment grew long. He needed to say something. He tried to remember why he was doing this, thinking about the seeds that he still carried and what they meant for everyone.

Deciding that it couldn’t hurt, he reached into his pocket and drew out a handful, holding it up for the crowd to see. He cleared his throat.

“Today we are going to start something new,” he said. Consciously he stilled his shaking hand and calmed his breaths, pulling them in even and slow.

He had dreams. There was no lack of those in his mind, but it was one thing to sit alone and let his imagination run wild. It was another to stand in front of a crowd and make those ideas come out coherently.

“We are going to plant. It’s a big change, but it’s the best chance we have,” he said.

“If we are going to make this work we can’t do it halfway. It’s going to be hard work, but we all have to help if we are going to make it.” He sucked in a deep breath.

His mind churned feverishly, thinking of how to proceed. There wouldn’t be any bicycle trips until the seeds got in the ground. He would assign the minimum number of people possible to gathering the new shoots to feed everyone. The rest would have to dig the soil and break it up to make it soft, the way it was in the picture.

“If we spend the summer growing these plants”—he held up his seeds again—“we will have a harvest in the fall, more than you would dream possible, right outside our doors.” He gestured toward the empty field between the village and the edge of the forest.

Charlie started clapping, alone in the crowd. The sound dropped into the silence like pebbles into water for a few moments before Conna joined him and then a few others. Illya’s mouth felt wooly. He stopped himself from chewing on the edge of his lip. It was split and had started to bleed.

“The first thing we have to do is make a field. We have to break up the soil, like this.” He flipped open the book to the picture of the garden and held it out over the crowd for them to see.

There were many blank stares, punctuated by occasional nodding. He looked out over the crowd, wondering how long it would be before they were rioting against him too. His throat was tight, and he forced himself to take a slow breath. He glanced towards the woods, where the snow had mostly receded and the shoots were coming in with agonizing slowness.

“So,” he continued after a moment, “we just have to decide who will dig and who will get food for everyone.” He had no idea of how to start. How could he tell people who were old enough to be his parents what to do?

Conna jumped up on the stairs beside him.

“The book is full of mysteries, full of things that can lead us to a better life,” he yelled. “We are blessed to have a Leader who can read it.” This was met by scattered cheering.

“Those who dig the field will be the first to see the mysteries working. They will be the ones who build our future. Those who gather food will be making it possible to do this. All jobs are honorable. Each one of you is essential to our success.”

Illya raised his eyebrows, then blinked and schooled his expression. He still didn’t know what to think of Conna’s support, and he hadn’t been sure it would continue.

Just as they had yesterday, Conna’s words sparked something in the crowd that Illya had been unable to reach. Murmurs of speculation rippled through the people, swelling louder until Charlie yelled out over the din.

“I will dig the field!”

Those around them, not wanting to be shamed, began to volunteer as well. Soon, the crowd was a cacophony of yells.

“I will dig!”

“And I!”

In the end, Conna led everyone who had volunteered to the field to get started. Illya watched them go, rallying after Conna as if he was the Leader they had chosen after all. The sight of them, so thin, so painfully underfed, made Illya think of a pack of ghosts. He wondered if they had the strength for the digging or if they would fade away before the shoots had grown.

Maybe it was already too late.

No one was left standing in front of the stairs except for a surly-looking Jimmer with a small knot of friends around him. Impiri and Elias had not come to the gathering at all, and neither had Sabelle.