A stop at the forge and the volcano

Have faith:
Your work,
Your sweat,
Your tenacity and
Practice will be your force
And your creativity.
Your art shall grow with them.

Manonf

Fire Dancing Volcano

The sun was high in the sky when we set out for our journey

to make our offering to the Spirit of the Volcano.  We were

unashamedly fearful, and the women seemed to sense this,

gathering as they did among the humid lilies in the garden,

to hum and sing.  As we went along the path up to the high

lands, the humming and singing grew in tempo, until we

found ourselves running.  Voices from the undergrowth

whispered about rolling stones gathering no moss, and wise

things about fear and running, until our motion became

more rhythmic and we danced.  The acrid smoke never

ceased pumping from the vent, and ash fell along our path,

as the wind rose and we ascended the foot of the volcano.

We could hear drums now, along with the hum and song of the

women, becoming ever louder, until we almost had to cover

our ears.  The roar of the funnel high above the treetops was

unceasing and relentless.   “When will we give our offering?”

asked Faerie Wren, flapping his wings on my shoulder.  Then

suddenly a monkey ambled across our path, screeching and

jumping up and down to the beat of the drum.  Faerie Wren

screeched, “Give him the nuts!  The nuts!”  I was startled,

and when the creature bared its sharp teeth, I delved into

the bag and took out the large store of nuts in shells and

threw them at it.  Swiftly the creature caught it with both

hands, grinned slightly, and disappeared into the thick

undergrowth, never to be seen again.

The heat from the volcano was increasing, intensifying the glare

of the high sun, and steam began to rise from the undergrowth

around us, which seemed to whisper again, about the

terrors of Pompeii and other incidents where the earth had seemed

to catch fire.  Was there any way to appease such an unknown

power?  The only thing we had left to give in our bag were

the chilis, and we prayed they would be sufficient.  We danced

faster, running crazily in the rising heat, the increasing drums echoing

across the valley.  “We must survive this, Faerie Wren”, I said,

making sure he was still safe on my shoulder. 

“What if one of us falls in, that perpetual sacrifice to the volcano

story has no charm for me,” he said, recalling his readings from

the Spanish Mission library.  “Luckily they don’t do things like that

anymore…” I said, before stumbling on a rock, from being

dazzled by a kind of red haze, or fire.  Faerie Wren shrieked and

shuddered, fluttering his feathers.  When we gathered our wits, we saw

the reason for our awe, — it was the Volcano Spirit herself,

resplendent in red.  We kept dancing out of nervousness, not

knowing what to say.  Was she the one who hurled people into

the vent, to perish in the flames?  But then she smiled, in a

glowing, fiery kind of way, and said:

“It is enough that you have come.  It is enough you were

brave enough, and wise enough to pay homage,” she whispered,

small flickers of flames coming from her mouth,  “You must

leave tonight, as the cone must release pressure of the earth.  It is

enough that you have come.”

“We have nothing to offer but these,” I said, handing over the chilis.

“Well, these are quite perfect, I love the heat and hot things.  These

will do nicely for my dinner.  Go now, and do not ever return here…”

hissed the Volcano Spirit, flaming away to her high altitude again.

Faerie Wren and I needed no further encouragement, we ran and

ran, to the rhythm of the drums and song, back to the Mission.  We

reached the women among the lilies, telling them the cone would explode

tonight, and they prepared to leave the valley for the highlands until the

danger was over.  “The Spirit of the Volcano looks after us,” they said,

and we swiftly left the Mission, for a destination we did not know…

 

(copyright Imogen Crest 2008.)

In the Camp of the Dragon Queen

My guides led me high into the lush tropical forest and we trudged for hours. I knew we were nearing the volcano when the forest petered out and we had to struggle over solid waves of lava. The heat became intense, and it was almost too much for me to bear.
Marg and the woman with long black hair, whose name was Ishtara, were patient with me as we striuggled on, but the third woman, whose name was Nessa, seemed to have taken a dislike to me. She watched me with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, and waited impatiently up ahead while we followed.
“Maybe you’d better rest,” Ishtara said kindly.
“Can’t rest,” Marg said, “the Dragon Queen knows you are on your way to the Goddess. She’ll try to stop you.”
“She won’t have much trouble,” Nessa sneered.
“What’s eating you today?” Marg said. “Never mind, traveller, she’s poor company at the best of times.”
“But I know the hidden way,” Nessa said.
“That’s right - gotta keep you out of the Dragon’s claws.”
She spoke to soon. Suddenly the sky darkened and we saw a huge black dragon overhead.
“Damn!” Marg shouted. “Run for cover.”
We scrambled toward clefts in the lava but we were too late. I felt huge claws grab me under the arms and the ground fell away from me with a sickening lurch. The dragon lifted me up until I could see the top of the volcano. For one horrifying moment I thought I was going to be dropped in. Then the dragon swooped over the volcano and we flew in a dizzying rush down the other side.
A clearing appeared in from of us. I caught a glimpse of what looked like an army encampment with a tent pavilion in the middle, then we plunged down, leaving my stomach way behind, and the ground rushed up to meet me.
I lay winded and bruised for a moment. Then I slowly got to me feet and looked around. The black dragon stood behind me, his mighty head lowered. On his back was a woman. She slid to the ground and walked toward me. I didn’t have to be told - I knew it was the Dragon Queen.
“Where’s Lavengro?” I said, with more boldness than I felt.
She looked me up and down with distaste. Something about the mocking sneer stirred my memory. I knew where I’d seen it before.
“You were Nessa!” I said. “What have you done with her as well?”
“She sleeps only,” the Queen shrugged. “It does not matter - your Gypsy King is mine, soon all of Lemuria will be mine.”
“Not if I can help it,” I said.
“You? What can you do to stop me?”
“I am here for Le Enchanteur,” I said. “She knows your plans.”
“And she sent an old woman to stop me?” The Dragon Queen shook her head and her gold ear rings tinkled. “I thought she would be a worthy opponent.” She sounded almost regretful.
I tried to look confident, but I had some doubts about Le Enchanteur’s wisdom myself. My task seemed almost laughable against the reality of the Dragon Queen and her army. She clapped her hands and I was seized and dragged off to one of the tents. The guards tied me to the centre pole and left me alone.
Terrific, I thought. I set out to free Lavengro and I end up a prisoner myself. The rope bound my upper arms to the pole and left my hands free. I couldn’t reach the rope to undo it, but I could wriggle my hand under my shirt and managed to open Le Enchanteur’s bag. The contents spilled out onto my lap as I struggled - the dream seeds, the spectacles, the candlestick, the anchor, the medallion and the wings - and something else, that I had not noticed before. I laughed softly - Le Enchanteur, bless her heart, had not sent me to the Dragon Queen unarmed.
No wonder I hadn’t seen it before - it was Le Enchanteur’s Invisibility Stone, a milky white gem hanging on a gold chain. It remains invisible until Le Enchanteur commands it to appear. I knew if I could get the chain round my neck I would become invisible too - but it took some manoeuvering to get my head down far enough and my hands up high enough the get the chain over my head, As soon as I did, the ropes slipped away, because there was nothing for them to hold onto.
I got clear of the ropes and momentarily became visible again so I could gather up the other items and stow them back in the bag. Then I slipped the stone back over my head and walked boldly out of the tent.
The Dragon Queen was mounted on her black dragon, issuing orders. The encampment was milling with her guards yet none of them saw me as I made my way to her pavilion. I was careful not to brush up against anyone. I walked straight between the two guards standing at the entrance, sliding between the silken doors, which were tied back with gold cords. Her pavilion was quite magnificent, hung with silk tapestries, and furnished with huge plump cushions and chests inlaid with gold. Half of the pavilion was curtained off, and I peeked in to this second chamber. There was a pile of cushions in the centre, with fur blankets heaped on top and fine silk curtains hanging from the roof. But it was not at this I stared.
Lavengro was in the chamber, tied to one of the roof posts. Hie looked utterly dejected. She had tied his hands and feet, as well as his arms. I called out to him and he stared around wildly. Then I remembered, and slipped the stone from around my neck.
His face lit up. “Untie me, quickly,” he said, “before she gets back.”
I started pulling at the ropes. “I’m glad you’re all right,” I said, “I was told you were under a spell.”
“I was - but the Dragon Queen has her hands full with the invasion of Lemuria, so she had me tied up.”
“How can we stop her?” I asked.
He flexed his arms and legs, obviously revelling in their freedom. “Her ear rings,” he said. “Did you notice them?”
“Yes - gold - with rubies, I think.”
“They are not rubies, they are drops of blood from Namashe, the true Queen of the Dragons. And the gold drops are the tears Namashe shed when this imposter stole her blood. We must get those ear rings - they are the source of her power.”
I thought quickly - “I have the stone - and my wings - I can try to get them from her. What then?”
“Give them back to Namashe - you won’t have any trouble finding her,” he added grimly.
“Not the one she is riding?”
“Yes, she stripped Namashe of all her power and humiliated her by turning her into a steed. This is an evil woman, be careful - she will stop at nothing.”
I could hear the Dragon Queen ordering her troops to begin the march on Lemuria. I had no time to lose. I pulled the wings out of my bag and they flew around and attached themselves to my shoulder blades. Then I slipped on the stone and hurried out of the tent. Lavengro knocked the guards out and took their swords.
The Queen heard one of the guards cry out and turned her gaze in our direction. Her eyes blazed as Lavengro charged a group of her guards, but she did not see me. I leapt and the wings bore me through the air - I was heading straight at her, my hands outstretched to grab the ear rings.
She felt my presence and turned her blazing eyes on me - I was so close she must have felt my breath on her face. She raised her sword and swiped wildly at the air. The point of her blade caught the chain on which the stone hung and I felt it give way.
As the stone fell away I became visible again. She laughed and raised her sword to strike at my heart. In desperation I twisted out of her way, grabbing one of the ear rings as I did so.
The Dragon Queen screamed with pain as the ear ring tore away, and lunged at me with her sword. I dodged the blow and flew behind her, landing on Namashe’s back between the great wings.
The Dragon Queen reached back and grabbed one of my arms. I saw the blade flash through the air as she aimed at my hand, with the ear ring still grasped in it. In desperation I reached for her other ear with my free hand.
The Dragon Queen gave a shriek of fury as the sword suddenly flew out of her hand. Lavengro had thrown his own sword, with perfect aim, and unarmed her. My own hand closed on the remaining ear ring.
Suddenly I was tumbling through the air, my wings flapping desperately to right myself. Namashe had reared on her hind legs and flapped her wings, throwing me aside. I somersaulted through the air and saw her great, proud dragon’s head close to mine. Steadying myself with my wings, I opened my hands and held them out to her.
But I no longer held rubies and lumps of gold. In my palms sparkled two drops of blood and four silvery tears.
A great silence descended on the camp, as Namashe touched my hands gently with her snout. The tears flew back to her eyes, the blood absorbed itself back into her skin. Namashe was whole again, and her fury, which she now turned on the dragon Queen, was terrible.
As I landed, I soon saw that the guards had already been subdued. Marg stood grinning at me, one massive foot on a guard’s neck. The camp was full of Kerith women and the gypsies who had been searching for Lavengro, and while I had battled the Dragon Queen, they had followed me and stormed the camp.
“How’s Nessa?” I asked Marg. “The Dragon Queen stole her identity.”
“She’s fine - didn’t improve her temper though,” Marg laughed.
There was a roar behind me. “I AM THE DRAGON QUEEN!”
We all turned in alarm - Namashe stood over the fallen form of her rival, her head high and proud and flames issuing from her nostrils. But they were only little flames, but the effect was unnerving.
“I apologise,” I said hastily.
“There is no need,” Namashe said. “You have done well this day.”
“What about her?” Lavengro said, pointing at the former Dragon Queen.
“Leave her to me - I shall take her back to my land. She will trouble Lemuria no more.” Namashe picked up the former Queen in her claws and rose into the air. With a flick of her long black tail, she turned and flew away.
“Hope she makes sure this time,” Lavengro said.
I felt suddenly deflated. “How am I going to explain to Le Enchanteur that I lost her Invisibility Stone?”
“You mean this?” Marg said. She held up the chain with the stone still hanging from it. “I saw it fall and caught it.”
I put the stone back into my bag - it immediately disappeared. I guessed it had gone back to Le Enchanteur, now that its work was done.
“Well, it looks like Lemuria is safe again,” Lavengro said. “If you don’t mind, I will take my leave of you charming ladies of Kerith, and you - ” he smiled at me. “You have my thanks. I owe you one.” He gallantly kissed my hand. “Come,” he said to his people, “We celebrate tonight!”
“And what of me?” I asked Marg. “Do I still go to meet the Goddess?”
“No, I have to get you back to Gerd’s boat, she knows where you’re going next.”
“What about all this stuff?” I indicated the tents and the pavilion.
“That pavilion will make a fine gift for Le Enchanteur,” Ishtara said. “Leave it to us, we’ll take care of it.”
I took my leave of the Kerith women with regret - even Nessa wasn’t so bad and actually managed a smile as she said goodbye. But Marg was impatient to get me back to the river, so I followed her, my wings safely stowed in my bag once again.

Volcanic Mission

 

The old, Spanish-style, Mission which now housed many old women of

Kerith in the valley we descended into, was surrounded by a vast

garden of tropical lilies and flowering plants.  The women could be seen at any

hour, we were told, tending the humid blooms.  It was daylight, and the

huffing and growling of the angry volcano could be seen in

clouds of acrid smelling smoke which belched out from its vent, and

wafted across the valley.  It caught in the lowlands, but the seasoned

women paid it no heed.  It was strange, thought Faerie Wren,

flying to the window to sit on the wrought iron which framed it

to watch, how people who were accustomed to constant danger

seemed to become immune to it.  Or lived in some kind of strange tolerance

with it.  I could tell his intellect was at work over these thoughts, so I let him

be.  Relieved by the still, convent-like hush of the dwelling of the women, an

old missionary house afforded a strange peace.  If the walls could speak,

there would be many a tale to tell.   Admittedly, last night it was

frightening, seeing the glow of the larva in the pitch darkness,

not knowing when it might spill over, and run down the valley. 

We knew we could fly out of here if trouble threatened, use the wings,

but that would just mean we had to repeat our journey once again. 

It was that way in Lemuria, because everything about it

went in circles.  What was not done once, had to be done again.  We

could use our magic bag, but that didn’t mean we didn’t need to think

for ourselves or observe the local traditions of the places we went.  To

show disrespect, even to the volcano, would be looked on poorly by

these brave old women, who had moaned against these walls for

centuries for their husbands, long gone away in wars and strife.

The history of the Mission showed it was once occupied by only

men in robes, and it was oddly interesting to find now, that the

situation was reversed completely.   Sitting down at the table, near

the window where Faerie Wren kept up his contemplation of the

constant rumbling, I spread the contents of our bag onto the wooden

table top.  We had to decide with what, and how, we would

appease the volcano…

(copyright Imogen Crest 2008.)

Battle of the Kerith Caldera

Kerzik, wrapped in a gray shroud like her sisters, stepped forward.  She was flanked by Moxem, who carried Albion’s saber, and Nardu who gazed at us with pained-filled eyes. 

In a raspy voice Kerzik said, “Give it to me.”

Albion glanced at me, “What is she talking about?”

“The Mechanism.  She wants it.”

“Why?”

“I’ll explain later.”   I set my bag on the ground and started to untied it.  Moxem raised the saber and took a step forward, but Kerzik held up a hand and motioned her back.   I pulled the box out of the bag and opened it.   The Mechanism’s gold face glittered in the sun.  Slowly, I lifted it out. 

The Specters began swaying and growling at the sight of the device.

I locked eyes with Kerzik.  “If I give this to you, will you let us go?”

“GIVE IT TO ME!”

“Fine!  Here it is.”  I deliberately tossed the Mechanism in a high arc forcing Kerzik to turn away from us in order to intercept it.  She managed to catch it before it smashed to the ground.  She and the other two crowded around the device, squealing and moaning in delight.

“Let’s go!” I whispered to Albion.  Albion did not move.  He continued to stare at Nardu.  I grabbed him by the arm.  “There is nothing we can do about her.  We tried.  We need to go while we can.  NOW!”  I yanked him into motion.

We tore across the floor of the caldera.  I tried to remember how Sarika had led us, avoiding the thinly crusted areas.  Vents of steam rose around us as we ran.  A few minutes later I motioned Albion to stop.  We were both out of breath.  I pulled out a flask of water and passed it to him. 

“Will you please explain what just happened back there?” he said, taking a swig.

“They wanted the Mechanism.  They think it will help them gain control over Lemuria.”

“And you gave it to them?”

“Why not?  It’s useless to them”.

“How so?”

I paused for a moment to consider my words.  How could I tell Albion that Lemuria is not a physical place and that he, the mechanism, and every other resident in Lemuria were just figments of the imagination?    How do I tell him that Lemuria resides in the imaginations of flesh and blood people, and that its manifestation is not tied up in the workings of an imaginary mechanism, but in the creative actions of real people.  Lemuria is eternal and boundless because the human imagination is eternal and boundless.  How could I tell him that and shatter his world?

I carefully replied, “Because according to the legend, since the Mechanism was created in Lemuria, a ‘flesh-’n-blood’ cannot wield it…only a resident of Lemuria, like yourself, can control it.”

Albion gave me a curious look.  “I understand.  No ‘flesh-n-bloods’, is that it?”  I thought I saw a trace of a smile on his face.  “So,” he said, looking behind him, “I wonder what’s going to happen when they find out it won’t work for them?”

He barely uttered that question when a distant wail cut across the lava field.  “I think we’re about to find out,” I replied.  

Albion threw the flask aside and I grabbed my Kerith stick.  We both started running again.   We had moved only a short distance down the trail when we were suddenly overcome by a roaring wind.  Dust and debris flew into our faces.  I began to cough and could not catch my breath.   The trail disappeared from view.  Before I could shout to Albion that we could not go on, two gray figures emerged from the dust cloud. 

Moxem was the first to rush forward, towards Albion.  When she was within reach of him, she raised the saber over her head.  As she swung the weapon down, he caught her by the wrist and they both tumbled to the ground.   Before I could move to help Albion, a shadow loomed to my left, and a heavy blow struck my face.  I fell to the ground.  Instinctively, I rolled to one side away from my attacker.  Blinded by the swirling dust, I jumped to my feet and began swinging the Kerith stick.  Although I could not see, I felt the stick connect in a loud thud and then snap in half.  

The dust cleared for a moment and I could see Kerzik pulling herself from the ground.  She turned to face me, her pus-colored eyes filled with rage.   I backed away as she approached.   She held a jagged piece of my broken staff like knife.

The sound of the explosion was so loud that it did not even register in my mind at first; rather, I felt the shock of the blast through my body.  Both Kerzik and I froze and looked towards the volcano’s peak in the distance.  An enormous plume of smoke and ash boiled from its side.   The ground began to rock beneath us and cracks in the lava field widened to show the glow of the molten rock that flowed beneath us.

Kerzik returned her attention to me.  A hideous scream issued from beneath her veil as she advanced.   Just before she reached me, a blur of green and brown rushed past my head and into the face of Kerzik, knocking her to the ground.  A large quetzal curved through the air behind her, dove, and struck Kerzik again.   The bird then flew out of sight, over a pile of boulders.   Kerzick struggled to her feet and turned in the direction that the quetzal had flown.  She shreiked in rage. 

Standing on the top of the boulders was a woman, dressed in flowing red gown.  Her face was impassive but her eyes, glowing like embers, said it all.   Kerzik took flight and headed straight towards the woman, screaming in anger.   The woman did not move except to point her finger at the oncoming specter.  A ball of fire erupted from her finger tips and rolled towards Kerzik, striking her in the chest.   Kerzik crumpled into a ball and fell to the ground, her body charred into an unrecognizable mass.

I heard Albion cry out and I turned my attention back to him.  Moxem had him pinned to the ground, the saber just inches from his throat.  I started to move towards him when suddenly a shadow rushed towards the struggling pair.  Moxem was struck from the side and rolled off of Albion. 

Nardu grabbed Moxem by the hair and began dragging her away from Albion.  Moxem rolled over and struck Nardu in the face, forcing Nardu to release her grip.  Moxem jumped to her feet and backed away from Nardu.   She said something to Nardu that I could not understand and Nardu replied something that made Moxem laugh.

Suddenly, the earth shuddered again, widening the cracks in the ground.  One of them opened up beneath Moxem.   She slipped into the chasm, grabbing onto anything she could get hold.  Nardu ran to the edge and reached for her.   Albion came from behind and took hold of Nardu around the waist, pulling her from the grasping arms of Moxem.   Then Moxem slipped out of sight into the orange glow of the chasm.

“We gotta get out of here, I called to them.  The whole caldera is breaking up!”   Albion grabbed Nardu under her arm and I caught hold of the other.  The three of us rushed across the crumbling caldera and did not stop until we reached the edge of the jungle.

L. Gloyd (c) 2008

In the Cave

“But she….”

“It’s alright. I’d been trying to talk to her, before they gagged me…I think I was about to get through to her.” Albion stood up.

I put down the walking stick. “What makes you think that?” I whispered.

“It’s her eyes…..” Albion’s voice trailed off, and he gazed at the creature. She was against the opposite wall, her back pressed into it. Her face was covered except for her eyes. Yellow and watery, they appeared vacant and disengaged, as if she were listening to a far off voice. Her breathing was heavy and raspy.

Albion continued to stare at her, as if he were entranced as well. “I think I know her. I’ve seen her before….”

This is getting us no where, I thought, irritably. I stood up as well.

“Excuse me…hello?” The creature did not move. “Um, my name is Lori”, I said as evenly and as softly as I could. “I’m here to take my friend Albion home. We’re just going to leave now, real quiet, you’ll never know we were here….” I took a small step towards the cave’s mouth and motioned for Albion to follow. Before he could move, a growl issued from the creature. It was low and threatening, like a dog ready to charge.

“Or not…” I stopped and called softly, “Nardu.” Her eyes sparked and the emptiness faded for a moment.

Albion glanced at me. “Nardu? Do you mean Nardu of Riversleigh? The poet?”

“Yes, shush.. Nardu, do you know that name? Do you remember who you are?”

Nardu began swaying from side to side.

“We know you. You used to live at Riversleigh. You used to write poetry there.”

Her swaying intensified and I heard a faint whine coming from her throat. She was looking at me now, listening.

“Yes, you remember, don’t you. You wrote beautiful poetry. You wrote about ravens. You were very famous.”

Tears began to well up in her eyes, and the pain I saw in them wrenched my heart.

“You can go back there if you want. Let us go. Help us to get away from here and we’ll take you home. We will take you to the Kerith. They know powerful magic and they can help you. You can go home. You can write poetry again. You don’t have to stay here.”

With that, Nardu began to wail, an ear-shattering shriek filled with anguish. In a loud rush of wind, she took flight and blew by us, slamming us both against the rocky wall. In a gray blur, she flew through the mouth of the cave and out of sight.

Albion rubbed his shoulder. “That went well…”

“C’mon, let’s go.”

I grabbed my stick and bag and headed out, Albion following behind. We picked our way across the rocky ravine, keeping our eyes open for the Specters.

“I can’t believe it. Nardu…, ” said Albion as we struggled to ascend the steep side of the ravine. “Her poetry is magnificent– the most beautiful words I’ve ever heard…It’s a shame what happened to her. Do you think the Kerith can really bring her back?”

“I was winging it; I’m not really sure.” Albion’s gushing prattle about Nardu was beginning to annoy me. My foot slipped and I fell back a bit, sending pebbles and dirt raining down on Albion. “Sorry…..”

We scrambled up and finally I pulled myself over the edge of the bluff. I reached down and grabbed Albion’s hand, hoisting him up behind me. “Now, we just need to get across the lava flow without being seen… where is Sarika? She should be around here…….”

I gasped. Standing before us were the Specters–all three of them.

L. Gloyd © 2008

The Offering

I made a step on to the dark lava flow. 

Sarika took hold of my arm.  “Wait.  I know the trail.  Let me go first.  One step in the wrong place and you may break through the crust and fall into a hot flow.”

“Ouch!  Sure thing.”  I stepped out of her way and let her by.

We walked in silence for a while.  Now that I had a better idea of the situation, maybe we could formulate a plan that would get us all out of this place.  My thoughts fell on Nardu, the Specter who did not appear to want to keep Albion around.  Maybe we could tip the scales in our favor….

“Sarika, tell me about Nardu.  What is her story?”

“Ah, Nardu…so sad…she was the Poet Laureate of Riversleigh until her Fall.”

“Do I know her poetry?”

“If you don’t, you should….she wrote The Silk Road Ghazals and Corvus: The Epic of the Great Raven.

“I know these!”  I had read them on a visit to Riversleigh.  They were canons in Lemurian literature.  Every Lemuria child could recite passages from these poems.  “That IS sad…”

Sarika came to a stop.  To the right of the trail rose a concave wall of lava stone.  Set into the wall’s curved face were several shelves of stone.  Cascading down the shelves were hundreds of orchids—purple, pink, white, yellow— all strung into leis.  There were some small boxes there as well.  I stepped forward to get a closer look—cigarettes?  Boxes of cigarettes?  Then I saw the bottles—gin.  Dozens of bottles of gin were buried among the cascade of flowers.  Then I knew.  I turned to Sarika.

“Offerings to the Mistress of the Volcano?”

“Exactly.  How do you know this?”

“In my world, there is a place called Hawaii and many people leave offerings like this at the volcano there.”

I pulled the lei over my head and untied the bag.  In the Real World, I would never do something like this, but I had learned from my experience at Triton’s Realm that there are things in Lemuria that are more real than in the Real World.  I would not make the same mistake twice.   I added the bottle and the lei to the rest of them.  Sarika stepped forward, lowered her head and began moving her lips.

I left her alone to her devotion and walked to the other side of the trail to survey our surroundings.

I saw that the trail skirted the edge of a ravine.  Across the ravine was a cave.  My heart leapt.  At first I saw a booted leg in the shadows of the cave’s mouth.  Then he leaned forward into the sun and I saw his face.  Albion!

I ran back to the wall and tugged on Sarika’s sleeve.  “He’s there!  I can see him..”  I took off again.

“Wait!” whispered Sarika.  I ignored her.  I began working my way down the ravine, keeping my eyes open for the Specters.  I seemed to be alone.
 
When I approached the mouth of the cave, he saw me.  He was bound and gagged—I guess they had had enough, I mused. 

He began shaking his head and uttering sounds through his gag.  I knelt beside him and removed the cloth from his mouth.

“Why are YOU here?” he whispered.  I pulled out a knife and cut his bindings

“Thanks a lot…I missed you too.”

“I have this situation under control.”

“Yeah, it looks like it.”

“Just go, will you.  They’ll be back soon. You’ll get hurt.”

“I’m taking you with me.”

“No, there’s been a complication…”

“What complica—“  I heard a scuffling noise behind me.  I spun around.  One of the Specters stood against the wall of the cave.

I stood up and yanked my walking staff from the ground where I had laid it.

“No!” Albion grabbed the staff and held it down.

“What are you doing?” I hissed.

“No, don’t hurt her.”

L.Gloyd.  Text (c) 2008; Image (c) 1986

The Bliss of Lemuria

“Is he okay?  Is he hurt?  Where is he?”  My heart was pounding.

“He looks fine—at least from a distance—well enough to converse with the Specters.”

“What do you mean?”

“It looks as if he were trying to talk himself out of the situation.  The Specters didn’t look very pleased.”

I exhaled in relief and chuckled.  “Well, he can be really annoying when he speaks.  They may give him back to us without a fight just to be rid of him.”   I resumed walking along the trail.
 
“Perhaps,” said Sarika, following behind.  “I saw the Specters arguing among themselves.  I was able to get close enough to catch some of their words.  Nardu wants to let him go—saying something about it not being worth the risk.  Kerzik, the leader, and Moxem, say no.  They want something.  Something you have.”

“You know their names?”

“Yes, everyone in Kerith and many in Lemuria at large know the Specters.”

“Tell me about them.  Who are they?”

“They were once flesh-and-blood women, like you and the other visitors.  Kerzik was a film-maker, Moxem, an artist, and Nardu, a poet of extraordinary talent.  Her poetry was pure magic.”

“You’re kidding.  What happened to them?  How did they become….so vile?”

“They came to Lemuria like all visitors—in search of rest, repose, creative rejuvenation.  But each time they came, they stayed a little longer and became more and more reluctant to go back.   Instead of taking strength and inspiration from Lemuria back with them to continue their work, they became afraid of the Real World.    What they failed to realize is that Lemuria was a gift to them.  It was never intended to be a crutch.  Their creativity and talent dried up.

“That’s so sad.”

“Yes, it is.  The Women of Kerith, the Mudjimbas, even Enchanteur herself tried to get them to come around.  But they resisted.   Finally, the Muses themselves became angry and removed the Bliss of Lemuria from them in hopes that it would force them to leave.”

The thought of that punishment chilled me.  To never again know the Bliss that comes from visiting this wondrous realm would destroy me.  I could not imagine what that would do to a person.

Sarika seemed to read my thoughts.  “After the Bliss was removed, they began to disintegrate, emotionally and physically.  They could find no peace nor gain any sustenance from Lemuria.  It got harder and harder for them to function.  They began preying on residents and visitors alike to regain the Bliss.  Then, Kerzik, in her madness, took hold of the idea that all they needed was the technology that made it possible for Lemuria to manifest to the Real World.  If they controlled the technology, they could regain the Bliss.”

It all began to make sense.  I touched the bag that contained the Mechanism and remembered what the Mudjimba Matriarch had said about the legend.

“Sarika, Lemuria has many legends, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, thousands.”

“Are any of them true?”

“As many as you care to believe.”

I nodded.  This was helpful.

Just then, we stepped through a thick bit of foliage and emerged on the edge of an expanse of barren rock.  Desolation spread before us as far as we could see.

“We’re here,” said Sarika.  “The Kerithian Caldera.”

L.Gloyd.  Text: (c) 2008; Image: (c) 1986

Keeping an Eye on the Mark

 

After my audience with Hetura, I quickly repacked my bag, gratefully taking gifts of food and water provided by the Kerith women.  A young girl shyly approached me and held out a bottle to me.
 
I smiled at her and took it.  I turned it over and read the label.  Gin?

“You’re a little young to be hitting the bottle, aren’t you?” I grinned.

“Mama said you would know what to do with this when the time comes. Oh, and she said to take this too.”  The girl took off the orchid lei she wore around her neck.  I stooped down so she can put it over my head.  I inhaled its sweet fragrance.

“Tell your mama thank you, okay?”   I stuffed the bottle into the top of the sack and tied it closed.  A few moments later I was headed down a path in the direction given to me by Hetura.  The caldera was an hour’s walk away.

The Kerithian kept no bladed weapons in their village.  They protected themselves with powerful magic and their famous walking staffs which, I had been told, could pack quite a wallop.  Without asking, I had been given one.  I examined the staff. 

I knew that without training using this weapon would be pointless.  A full assault on the Specters was not a possibility at this point. Getting Albion back by stealth was a possibility but I suspected he was being closely guarded.  Then there was the Antikythera Mechanism.  No.  I could not, would not give them control of Lemuria. I do not negotiate with terrorizers.
 
Stop it, I told myself.  There was no point in thinking about this now.  I cannot plan without knowing what was before me.  I would have to wait until I got there to know what I was supposed to do.  And I had every confidence I would.
 
My experience with Hetura has been remarkable.  My anxiety was gone.  I wasn’t afraid of the situation or the Specters.  Her magic had propelled me to dig deep inside and draw on past experiences to prepare me for this one.   In the Real World I had suffered my share of troublesome people: from the aggressive, in-your-face types striving to exert their excessive personalities on to me, to cowardly weasels who attempted to impose havoc through manipulation, gossip and lies.  The secret to overcoming these difficult people, I found, was to confront them if you cannot avoid it, ignore them if you can, stay focused on the goal at all costs, and keep pushing forward.   Eventually, I found, the brazen ones fall into a powerless state that matches their own personal insignificance, and the gossiping manipulators become overwhelmed with their lies and prove themselves frauds.  The secret is to persevere.

I was so lost in thought, I almost plowed into Sarika when I rounded a curve in the trail.

“There you are!  Where have you been?  I could have used some back-up dealing with your Medicine woman.”

Sarika smiled.  She was no longer in her colorful sarong.  She was dressed in a traveling tunic and pants, green and brown, perfect camouflage in the jungle.   She carried a walking staff.
 
“I’m sorry to have left you like that.  I felt I could be more useful doing—what is your word for it—doing a little reconnaissance.

“Yes?”  I said breathlessly, stepping towards her.

“I saw Albion.”

Text:  L.Gloyd © 2008
Image:  “Keep You Eye on the Mark”, L.Gloyd © 2004

Escaping the Demon of the Ethers

A few moments of waiting became an eternity of fear standing before the Demon of the Ethers. I clung to the words of the goddess and keeper of the volcano, “Beware of the smile.” Her words shook me into action.

Several of them came at me from around the sharp corners of the cavern. They were reddish in color with evil fangs or wings. Some were riding beasty animals unfamiliar to anything I’ve ever seen. By their intense, beady eyes, each had a singular focus—to slay and devour me.

My own eyes shifted from one beast to another. Assessing the situation, I struggled for my voice. Straight from the gut there wasn’t a sound. Not even a whisper escaped my lips. No rumble from my belly shook the vocal chords enough for sound to carry through my being. I was voiceless. This frightened me more than the demons devouring my flesh. It was too close to old memories from my life; the continuous nightmares of screaming from the inside out without sound. More than once, experiencing the clattering of my inner roots grabbed by fear; facing the death rattle of my soul.

Fumbling, my hands reached into the E bag digging. “Digging for what,” I asked myself as fear gripped my chest. I dropped each item no sooner than I felt it in the bag. I was feeling for something specific but without consciously knowing what. The Gau box, the seeds, candle, and other items brushed my fingers as I allowed them to fall back into the bag. Time wasn’t on my side. I had only moments before the beasts approached the other side where I stood with no opening to escape this inferno of volcanic anger.

Abruptly and by surprise, I found it. Deep in the inner lining of the E bag was the small object I was fascinated by since beginning this journey. Quickly, I slipped it out of the bag before the demon could see what I had.

It hit me at that moment and it hit hard. This is it! This is what the Demon wanted from the bag.

A new surge of energy flooded my body and fused my spirit with fire. Moving my fingers as fast as I could across the “time cutter”, I turned the dial until I heard the faint click and then began spinning it between my thumb and index finger. The object started spinning so fast it levitated from my hand, rising over my head. As it spun, a multicolored light expanded around my body, pulling me up while spinning me in a counterclockwise position.

The demon and his beasty crew were no match for the tornado force of energy pulling everything upward. Spiraling up, the demon did not know how to fight this kind of magic. His archaic methods belonged to the underground creatures who only knew the ancient past. They were not a part of the future and could never be.

As I continued spinning, thoughts drifted to the demon. “This is why the Demon of the Ethers strongly desired possessing the time cutter”, I thought. “With it in his hands, he could set the upper world in motion to fall back – to fall back into his domain where he would remain the Ruler of all Destruction.”

My attention faded as I moved at lightning speed spinning in a web of light, color and whirling patterns.

All of a sudden, I was feeling lighter and more settled. The spinning slowed, my breath was returning to its normal ebb and flow. I could feel my eyes smoldering in sacred violet and my heart resting into my soul’s tapestry of beauty and grace bringing me back.

I heard music, a song…

Close your eyes, start a journey to a strange new world
Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before
Close your eyes and let music set you free
Only then can you belong to me

Floating, falling
Sweet intoxication
Touch me, trust me
Savor each sensation
Let the dream begin
Let your darker side give in…

“Genece, Genece,” a booming voice yelled my name. “Wake up! We must hurry if you’re going to remain on schedule.”
My head slowly turned towards the opening in the tiny hut. I could see the shadow of an old woman standing in the entry.

She appeared to be speaking to me. “Where am I,” I heard myself speaking in a soft voice.

“What,” she questioned, “you are in your hut. Yes? Remember? Last night you danced and sang with old women until you were saddened by the music and I walked you to your hut. You have dreamed? Yes?”

Uuuuuhhh,” I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, I think so. No, I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

“It’s okay. It will come back to you when time is appropriate,” she stated.

Standing up, I could see the palette of blankets on the floor along with my E bag and Triton’s gift. I neatly folded the blankets and placed them where I had found them before preparing to leave the hut.

Reaching my hand to my neck, the coral necklace was there.

I remembered, “Please, please! Please tell me I still have time. Am I too late to leave my gifts for the goddess and keeper of the volcano?”

I kissed the gifts with gentle lips, smiled deeply and gathered my things. All in hand, I reached inside the E bag to feel the time cutter. It wasn’t there. It never was. Nor was the Demon of the Ethers. He was only a dream, only a dream.

I kept smiling as we walked together in beautiful silence to the sanctuary where I kneeled down with humble heart and left Triton’s gifts except fo the necklace for the goddess and keeper. It all belonged to her now.

My lesson was learned. I no longer would weep to the faint internal chant, “only then can you belong to me.” For now, I am content in where I belong. I belong to the stillness, beauty and grace weaved as the tapestry of my soul.

I shall make my way to the hot springs in celebration then onwards to meet the Mudjimba women. Touching the necklace, I have a gift to deliver.

Smiling.

–genece hamby
http://sanctuaryofstillness.wordpress.com

Pharmacopoeia

On the beach of Kerith an old woman points to the path that leads to the Kerith Volcano and the Hot Springs that rose from a crack in the crust of the lava from the last eruption. The bubbling source is very hot and sometimes the heat is too much to bear. The springs are the most sociable place in Kerith and healers conduct their business of curing, advice and augary there. Sarika and others like her soak in the hot pools while travellers slip in beside them and tell the troubles in their souls and the ailments in their bodies.

The path to the springs is busy as younger women carry a literal pharmacopoeia with them. Seeds, pounded and crushed plants tied in bundles, dried hibiscus petals, annatto powder, aloe milk, crushed oyster shells, smartweeds, fiery peppers and a selection of charms.

Heather Blakey - January 2008 - St Leonard’s

 

Kerith Women

Kerith Women
Heather Blakey - 2008 St Leonard’s

Kerith is full of sound and the women, they say, are the source of most of that sound. The women of Kerith have been talking about the people who are coming. They have been waiting and watching to see who will come. They have sat and looked out across the expansive river, watched for boats, looked to see more travellers seeking shelter in their harbour, travellers looking to find the sweet water lagoons. They are waiting to welcome these people to their humble houses which are lined along the estuary. The houses are all modest. Many are made from strips of palm and tied together with tough liana ropes. Some women live in the rooms of the old mission. The women of Kerith do not have money and so they do not know what it is to be ‘poor’ but likewise, they do not know what it is to be ‘rich’. While the spirit of the volcano is happy they are happy. This is what they know. And, because they are older women they know much more… but that is another story.

Gifting the Volcano

I left shells, flowers and fruit for the Spirit of the Volcano
and then
Danced the Fire Dance for her.

Heather Blakey - January 2008 - St Leonard’s 

Volcanic Heat

When the Spirit of the Volcano dances the Fire Dance all of Lemuria feels the heat.

Heather Blakey - January 2008 - St Leonard’s