Tiho and the Severed Head
First Prize

2024Prose Prize | Volume 56
When at last the Great Enemy was slain, the General of the Lady’s army called Tiho to him. Both armies lay dead on the battlefield. The General was as big as a bear, and had always been kind to the boy. He held a bundle of bloodstained cloth in his hands.
“This is the head of the Great Enemy,” said the General. “Take it to our Lady of the Mountain. Don’t look at it, and don’t let anyone else look at it. Only the Lady of the Mountain may see it.”
He gave the bundle to Tiho. It was half the boy’s size.
Tiho wondered what the Great Enemy looked like—what giant, monstrous face lay hidden under the cloth. But he heeded the General’s command and promised to deliver the Lady’s prize.
Tiho wondered what the Great Enemy looked like—what giant, monstrous face lay hidden under the cloth. But he heeded the General’s command and promised to deliver the Lady’s prize.
The General fastened the bundle to Tiho’s back, and the boy set off down the road that led to Oath Mountain. After he left, the General died of his wounds.
Tiho walked along the dike that extended across the estuary. It rained heavily but—mysteriously—the raindrops did not touch him, and he stayed quite dry.
As Tiho went along, he met a man with no arms, whose sleeves hung loose and empty at his sides. He was soaked through and dripping with rainwater. Though the man was tall, his body appeared small without arms. Tiho tried not to stare.
“Now, how is it you’re still dry and I’m soaked to the bone?” asked the man.
Tiho glanced down at his dry clothes and said, “It must be what I carry.” Even the elements feared the Great Enemy.
“And what is it you carry, little one?” asked the man.
Tiho answered him readily, not used to keeping information from adults. “It’s the head of the Great Enemy of the Lady of the Mountain.”
“My, is it so?” said the man. He crouched and brought his bearded face close to Tiho’s. “Will you let me look at it?”
Now, Tiho was worried, because he couldn’t oblige the poor man.
“Only the Lady of the Mountain may see it,” Tiho said.
The man looked disappointed. “I lost my arms fighting the Great Enemy. I wish I could see his head with my own eyes and spit in his face.”
When Tiho made no reply, the armless man straightened and walked away, disappearing into the mist and rain.
Tiho carried on along the dike and came to the mouth of the Great River. A girl crouched on the bank collecting water in a bucket. She was bigger and older than Tiho. He tried to walk past without her noticing, but she called after him.
“Hey, you!” she said. “Who are you and where are you going?”
Tiho stopped, hesitant to speak to another stranger. He gaped at the older girl, saying nothing. Her gaze was on him, making it difficult to breathe.
She rose and came to him. “Why aren’t you wet from the rain?”
“I’m too fast for it to touch me,” said Tiho, finding his voice.
“No, you’re not,” said the girl. “The only one the rain can’t touch is the Great Enemy. Are you the Great Enemy?”
“No,” said Tiho. “But I carry him on my back.”
He went to hurry along before the girl could ask to see the head.
“Are you hungry?” the girl asked. “Wait here and I’ll get you some food.”
She ran off up the bank, towards a house that stood nearby. Tiho thought about leaving before she came back, but he was hungry. He thought maybe the girl wasn’t interested in seeing the head after all.
She came back with bread and cheese and blackberries. The two of them sat on the bank and ate the delicious morsels together. After a while, the girl said, “The 40 Great Enemy destroyed my family. I wish I could see his head with my own eyes and spit in his face.”
Tiho said nothing, hoping the girl might change the subject.
Instead, she asked, “Will you let me look at it?”
“Only the Lady of the Mountain may see it,” Tiho said.
“I could be the Lady of the Mountain,” said the girl.
“
Tiho wondered what the Great Enemy looked like—what giant, monstrous face lay hidden under the cloth. But he heeded the General’s command and promised to deliver the Lady’s prize.
Tiho wondered what the Great Enemy looked like—what giant, monstrous face lay hidden under the cloth. But he heeded the General’s command and promised to deliver the Lady’s prize.
”
The way she said it, with such conviction, almost made Tiho believe that she could truly be the Lady of the Mountain, and he wanted to give the head to her. But he resisted the temptation and again denied her.
She was still for a moment. Then, quick as anything, she made a grab for the bundle. But Tiho was quicker, and he ducked under her grasp and ran faster than a f leeing jackrabbit up the riverbank, so fast that the girl couldn’t follow him.
The clouds were breaking apart, giving way to the waning, golden daylight. Tiho realized he would not reach Oath Mountain before dark. He stared at his feet as he walked, thinking about whether to press on through the night or find somewhere to sleep. So immersed, was he, in his own thoughts that he walked straight into a band of men coming in the opposite direction.
“Hunh, what’s this?” said one of the men; vile, with bristly hairs on his tongue.
“The road is dangerous, young’un,” said another. “That’s why we travel together.”
“What’s he got on his back?” said the third.
The man with the bristly tongue answered, “Let’s have a look.”
Tiho was surrounded; there was nowhere for him to run. He thought of the General, tall and strong, and tried to speak with his commanding voice.
“Let me pass,” Tiho said, but the men just laughed. They beat him until he couldn’t move, then hauled him off with them.
The sky grew dark, and Tiho lay with his face in the mud, staring into the men’s campfire. The men were ogres, and they laughed grotesquely and bragged about the horrible things they’d done to all the others who’d met them on the road. Hearing these stories made Tiho cry, and his beaten body ached with every sob. The ogres didn’t seem too interested in the bundle, which lay forgotten at their feet.
All Tiho could think was that he had to get to it. He had to get the head and take it to the Lady of the Mountain. He could barely move.
He crawled forward, no longer like the fleeing jackrabbit, but the banana slug which drags itself slowly over the earth on a trail of slime towards its goal.
As painful and tedious as it was, it gave Tiho something to focus on besides the dreadful boasts of the ogres, or the pain he felt all over. Tiho moved so slowly that it seemed he could grab the bundle and be off with it, without the ogres ever noticing. But just before he reached it, the nearest one spotted him and kicked his face, sending him tumbling towards the fire.
“What were you going for?” asked the ogre, picking up the bundle. The others gathered around as he untied the cloth.
“Only the Lady of the Mountain may see it,” said Tiho, with blood in his mouth. His voice was so feeble that the ogres did not hear him. They unwrapped one piece of cloth, then another, and another, growing more and more frustrated. The bundle, which had once appeared so large, shrank smaller and smaller, until the last piece of fabric was removed, and all at once the ogres screamed in terror and burst into flames, dropping the head and running off into the woods like blazing torches in the night.
The head fell to the ground and rolled to where Tiho could see it.
An infant’s head.
Its skin was smooth, the pale cheeks hairless and plump. The eyes were closed, and the mouth hung open, a hollow darkness inside. The sparks from the fire darted around it, as though they were afraid to touch it. Tiho stared at the infant’s head all through the night, or maybe he dreamed of it. He wept at the sight until the sun came up and the fire had burned down to its coals.
Then the head spoke in a small voice: “Now you have seen me, don’t take me to the Lady of the Mountain. She will put me in a cold stone box and shut the lid, and I will sit forever in darkness. Take me somewhere beautiful, and place me in the hollow of a tree, so that I may gaze out at the beautiful world. You will be blessed for granting me this wish.”
Tiho thought about what the head said, and about how it would feel to be shut away in a dark box forever and ever. The thought terrified him, and he would hate to have such a fate. But he’d given his word to the General. He lived to serve the Lady of the Mountain, and this was her Great Enemy.
But he remembered, also, the way the ogres had burst into flames the night before. The same might happen to Tiho if he refused.
“
”
So he came up with a plan. He picked up the infant’s head and wrapped it once more in the cloth.
“Why do you wrap me up?” asked the head. “I can barely see through the cloth.”
“I need to keep you hidden, in case we meet any more strangers,” said Tiho.
“Good thinking, friend,” said the head.
Tiho walked deeper into the woods, cradling the wrapped head in his hands. The ground began to slope up towards the mountain.
“What about here?” asked the head, its voice muffled under the cloth. “I hear birds singing—it must be a very beautiful place.”
“It is beautiful,” said Tiho, “but I know a place farther up the mountain, where a tree with a hollow overlooks the valley.”
Tiho walked on, and the slope grew steeper and steeper. He was still sore after the beating he’d taken from the ogres, and every step wracked his body with pain.
“What about here?” asked the head. “I can feel the warm sun on my face—it must be a very beautiful place.”
“It is beautiful,” said Tiho, “but I know a place farther up the mountain, where the clearest stream trickles gently towards a waterfall.”
The slope grew steeper still, and Tiho glimpsed the Lady’s stronghold standing at the mountain’s summit. He wanted to collapse, but he pressed on.
“What about here?” asked the head. “I can hear the wind through the trees—it must be a very beautiful place.”
“It is beautiful,” said Tiho, “but we’re almost at the place farther up the mountain, where flowers of the rarest colours bloom all year round.”
Tiho reached the Lady of the Mountain’s stronghold and was led through to her private garden. Tiho sank to his knees and thought he might never move again. He unwrapped the head and lay it on the paving stones before him.
In the garden, there were flowers of the rarest colours that bloomed all year round. The clearest stream trickled by them towards a waterfall. And the Lady of the Mountain sat with her back to him below a tree with a hollow overlooking the valley.
“What a beautiful place,” said the head.
“Lady of the Mountain,” said Tiho. “Your Great Enemy is dead.”
The Lady turned and smiled. In her hands, she held a stone box.
“
”

Evan Shumka
Evan Shumka is a writer, actor, and artist from the Cowichan Valley. His short stories have been published in Portal Magazine, GOOEY Magazine, and The Temz Review. His plays have been produced by the VIU Satyr Players at Malaspina Theatre and at Magical Theatre in Edmonton. This is his final year in the Creative Writing program at VIU, after which he will let loose on an unsuspecting but ideally receptive world, when he finally finishes the sixth or maybe seventh draft of his debut novel.