Enchanteur’s Lemuria

Get your popcorn, find your seats, and turn off your cell phones….

L.Gloyd (c) 2008

A Parting of Ways

The magic of the Kerith descended upon us almost the moment we entered the jungle.   Even the sound of the volcano’s eruption was silenced and ash and pumice ceased to fall.   Healing immediately commenced for Nardu as well.  Her ghostly pallor was lessening and her body was beginning to take on solid form.  But she was far from well.  Albion carried her as we hurried through the jungle towards the village.  Hopefully, Hetura, the Medicine Woman, would be able to minister to her.

We encountered Sarika on the trail who quickly explained that when she saw me head off to the cave to rescue Albion, she sought out the Mistress of the Volcano assuming, quite correctly, that we would need her help. 

“So the woman in the red gown– that was The Mistress?  Wow! “

“Yes, and she asked me to tell you that she was quite pleased with the brand of gin you offered to her.  It is her favorite.”

When we arrived at the village, the woman gathered around us, cheering and thanking us for ridding their realm of the Specters.    Nardu was quickly hustled off to Hetura’s hut while Albion and I were entertained.  A great feast was called and we dined on roast suckling pig, fruits and vegetables of all sorts, and a particularly potent beverage made from a local berry.   We were pummeled with questions about our adventure.  When I mentioned Sarika’s appeal to the Mistress, questioning looks fell over the villagers.  “Who is Sarika?” one asked.   I craned my neck to survey the group.  Sarika was nowhere to be seen. 

It was then I noticed how silent Albion had become.  He kept looking towards Hetura’s hut and periodically asked about Nardu.  My festive mood was suddently quelched and I felt a dull ache in the pit of my stomach.

The festivities lasted for three more days.  On the evening of the third day, I announced to my hostesses that I would be leaving the following morning.  I needed to continue my journey to the Mnemonsyne’s Stream.   Cries of disappointment were articulated but my hostesses understood.  The next morning I awoke to find all my gear re-packed with plenty of food and drink along with a brand new Kerithian walking staff.

As I thanked my hostesses, I asked if anyone had seen Albion that morning.  I was told that Nardu had fully awakened from her state and that Albion was with her.   I took a deep breath and headed toward Hetura’s hut.   I ran into Hetura coming through the door.  She smiled and motioned to my chest.

“It is getting greener,” she said.

“It doesn’t feel like it,” I replied.  She smiled and continued on her way.

I quietly pushed through the curtains.  Albion was sitting on the edge of the cot smiling at Nardu. 

“Excuse me…”

“Oh, Lori.  I’m so glad you’re here.  Nardu wanted to meet you…under better circumstances.”

Nardu was propped up on the cot.   She seemed so small and vulnerable.  Her platinum hair hung around a clear, bright face that was beaming.   “Lori, I am so glad to meet you…” She extended a delicate hand to me.

Great, I thought, a petite blonde.  This just keeps getting better and better.

“My pleasure.  I am glad you are recovering.”

“Albion tells me that if it wasn’t for you, we would not be here.  I would not be here……”

And she’s nice too.  Of course.

“Albion’s just being modest.  It was he who wouldn’t give up on you.  I’m here to let you know that I’m on my way now.  Places to go, people to meet, that sort of thing, you know.  Best of luck to you.”

I turned to leave. 

“Wait….” Albion stood and followed me out the door.  “Look, I’m sorry that I can’t go with you.”

“It’s okay…”

“No, I just want you to know that Nardu needs to be escorted back to Riversleigh.  She can’t do by herself……..”

“No need to explain.  I understand.”  I felt my face freeze into a false smile.

“You’ll be okay, kid”  Albion step over to me and kissed me on the forehead.  “You’re really going to be okay…”

“You too….. Bye.”   I quickly turned away. 

The women of Kerith lined the trail down to the boat dock.  They waved and sang songs.  I kept the plastered smile on my face the entire walk down.  I tossed my bags into the bottom of the boat with a little more force than necessary.   I shoved off, waving at the women, and then began paddling up stream.   As soon as I was out of sight of the dock.  I put down my paddle and buried my head in my hands.

“Stupid, stupid, STUPID!”  I muttered.  How could I be so stupid….. Besides, he’s just a figment of my imagination….or not…could he be real?…No, no, don’t even go there…he’s not a flesh-n-blood, he’s a Lemurian and it’s just not SANE to be in love with someone who is not real…..  No, this is the best thing. 

Suddenly, I heard a rustle and then a thump.  I looked up and sitting on the bow of the boat was a rainbowed colored quetzal.  She looked at me with a sparkling eye and then I knew. 

“Hey, Sarika, glad you could make it.”

The bird rustled her feathers.

“Let’s get a move on to Mnemosyne.”   I picked up my paddle and began to row.

The End

(Well, maybe not…. I have it on good authority that Nardu and Albion do not live happily ever after.  In fact, the serene and quiet life of Riversleigh did not sit well with our adventuring lad and he quickly got himself into trouble.  Sybil herself personally escorted him off the premises when he instigated that unfortunate moshing incident at the annual Riversleigh Poetry Slam.  I understand that he was last seen heading up the Kerith River. 

Oh, and don’t worry about Kerzik and Moxem.  They are back in the Real World presently on the phone with their respective ISP companies demanding to know why they no longer have internet access…..      

No, I don’t think it’s the end the story……….

L. Gloyd (c) 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

The Medicine Woman

I stared at Sarika.
 
“Are you lost?” she asked.

Her appearance had startled me, and it took a moment to pull myself together. 

“Uh, no, well, yes, um, I don’t know….”

Sarika chuckled.  “You are not from Lemuria, are you?”

“It’s that obvious?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Okay, well,  here’s the deal.  I was on my way to the Streams of Mnemosyne and this guy…a friend…Albion…well, we ran into a little trouble..and, to make a long story short, he’s been kidnapped by the Spectres…”   Oddly, I felt myself blushing.  Was Albion really a friend?
 
“The Spectres….that’s not good, not good at all.  I think you need to see Hetura.”

“Who’s Hetura?”

“She is the village’s Medicine Woman.  She knows many things about the seen and unseen worlds.  She can help you.”

“Let’s go then and see her.  I don’t have a lot of time.”

Sarika gave me a questioning look. “Time?  I don’t understand.  This is Lemuria.”

I just shook my head and motioned for her to lead the way.  We descended a steep flagstoned path, weaving around the edges of each of the hot springs.  Steam rose from each pool and the smell of sulfur intensified as we made our way past them.

A few minutes later we passed through a gate into a compound of high-peaked thatched houses.  Like the buildings of Mudjimba, the structures were elevated by stilts off the ground.  Chickens, chased by small children, darted through the compound.  The smell of sulfur had given way to the pungent smells of vegetation.  Stalks of drying herbs hung from the rafters of many of the houses.  Several women sat on woven mats outside their homes, grinding herbs with pestles in stone mortars.  They smiled and waved as I walked by.

We reached a small hut at the far end of the compound.  Sarika motioned me forward.  The entrance was covered by a curtain, making it difficult to knock.  I turned to Sarika.

“Should I announce myself or just walk….”  Sarika was gone.  I quickly surveyed the compound but she was nowhere to be seen.  I was about to call her name when I heard a voice from within the hut.

“Come in, come in.”

I pushed through the curtain and was enveloped in darkness.  “Hello?”

“Hello, hello!” chirped a woman’s voice. “Wait, wait, please.”
 
I heard some scuffling and then the sound of stone striking stone.  A flame came to life before me.  I could see the illuminated face of an old woman blowing on some kindling in a small brazier.  As the fire grew, she stood and pulled a cord which was hanging from the ceiling.  A smoke hole opened in the ceiling.  “There, that’s better.  Sit, sit.” She motioned to a mat on the floor.
 
I stared at the old woman.  She was not very tall and had a toothless grin.  Her face was dark and wrinkled with deep laugh lines surrounding her eyes.  Most striking about her was the headdress she wore.  It was made of orange-colored bark, shaped into an array of lumps and dimples. It looked remotely like a misshapen motorcycle helmet.

“You like my hat?”  She chuckled.  “Hermit crab gave it to me… What a time that was!”  She sent herself off into a wail of giggles.

“Hermit crab?”

“Yes, he is my totem.  What is your totem?”

“I don’t have a totem.”

“We all have totems.  You may not have met yours yet.”

“Right. Okay.  Um, Sarika said you could help me find my friend.”

“Ah, yes, Albion.”

“You know him?”

“No.  Here, have some tea.”

“No, thank you. I’m fine.  Do you know where he is?”

“No.  I really think you need some tea.”

“No, I don’t need any tea.  What do you mean you don’t know where he is?  Sarika said you could help.” I rose to my feet.  Hetura did likewise.

“Yes, I can help.  Have some tea.”

“What is with you and tea?  They are going to kill Albion unless I can get to him…”

Hetura stepped toward me and before I could step back, she placed her index finger on my sternum.   A ripping hot pain tore through my chest and I fell to my knees.
 
“What the hell are you doing?!”  I gasped.
 
 “Very brown.  Not green at all.”

“What?  What are you talking about?”  I was having a hard time catching my breath. The pain was becoming more intense even though Hetura had removed her finger from me.

“The Anahata is blocked.  This is why you are sick so often.”

“How would you know that?”  The fact was that I had a respiratory infection for several weeks before I took off for Lemuria, but there was no way she would know this.

Hetura sighed.  “Because, like I said, the Anahata is not green.  Now would you have some tea?”
 
The pain grew heavier and I felt like my chest was being stomped on.  Before I could object, Hetura lifted a handle-less ceramic cup to my lips. Steam with a strong earthy aroma rose from the cup.  I sipped it, then began to sputter and cough.  It tasted as bad as it smelled.

“Drink it, all of it.”

Even before I finished the cup, I felt the pressure lessening in my chest.  The searing heat gave way to a pleasant warmth.  I could breathe again.
 
“There.  You feel better, am I right?”
 
“Yes. Thank you.”

“Good.  I told you I could help you.”

“Yes, you did.”   I felt calmer, and the urgency I had held when I entered seemed to dissipate.  I could think more clearly now. I knew where I needed to go.  I did not know what I would do when I got there but that did not seem important at the moment.  I knew the answer would come when I needed it and not a moment sooner. I set the cup on the floor and looked into Hetura’s eyes.

“All I need is the direction to the Kerith Caldera.”  Hetura nodded and laughed.

L. Gloyd © 2008

Who is this guy?….

This is a bit long (about 10 minutes) and he rambles a bit, but Corey (AKA The Mean Kitty Guy) touches on a lot of themes that touch us, well at least me, here at SFC.  I kept saying to the computer screen, “Yes, I know how you feel, dude!”  

Lori

The Hotsprings of Kerith

After paddling upstream for a few minutes, I rounded a bend in the river and saw a small boat dock along the bank. I glanced at my map and determined that this was trailhead to Kerith Village, high up the slopes of the volcano.

I tied up my boat and a few minutes later I ascended the trail into the tangle of jungle brush. The sounds of the jungle grew louder, and I saw flashes of color fluttering in the canopy above me. I had heard that this was the home the Lemurian Quetzal, a brightly-plumed parrot, and under better circumstances I would have liked to have taken my time and perhaps catch a glimpse of this rare bird.

The thought of Albion, held captive by the Spectres, fell heavily on my mind. It frightened me to think what they might be doing to him. As worried as I was for him, though, I was also angry. This is exactly the reason I had not wanted him to come. Myself, I can look after. Looking after another was a complication I had wanted to avoid. All the same, they had better not hurt him…………

I glanced at my watch. Two hours had passed since I left the Mudjimba– precious time. I picked up the pace a bit and soon I entered the mists of volcano’s cloud cover. A silence fell over the jungle, and I could no longer hear the sound of insects and birds.

Then, a flash of color erupted in front of me. I startled a quetzal and she flew across the trail, squawking and shreaking her indignation. She paused on tree branch and stared at me. She was glorious! Her flight feathers was shades of pink and her long tail feathers sparkled in brilliant gold.

As I approached, she took off and flew up the trail. She came to rest on a hanging vine. When I approached again, she fluttered off a little further up the trail and came to rest again on a branch. She was leading me.

I continued following the quetzal for some distance, the trail starting to descend down the other side of the volcano’s flank. Suddenly, the mists cleared and I stepped into a clearing.

Below me was a series of pools, terracing down the course of a narrow ravine. One pool was blue, another aqua, and another appeared streaked in shades of copper and red. These must be the algae-laden Hotsprings of Kerith. In the distance, at the bottom of the ravine, I could see the peaked roofs of an enclave of buildings.

I heard a rustle behind me and I turned. Before me was a young woman. She was dressed in a pink sarong trimmed in gold and silver embroidery. Her eyes sparkled and she said in a light, sing-song voice.

“Hello. My name is Sarika. Welcome to Kerith Village.”

Text and Image: L. Gloyd (c) 2008

Fire Dance

Imogen and the Faerie Wren have lit a fire, a dancing fire….

Ole’

Maria Pages, “Fire Dance,” Riverdance.  Courtesy of YouTube.

Lori

 

The Mudjimba Matriarchs

I quickly ascended the bluff’s trail and joined the band of Mudjimba. We proceeded along a path through a dark wooded area until we came to what I presumed was their village. Small wooden houses on stilts surrounded a central gathering area with a firepit in the middle. The pit held a burning fire. The women, silent as we moved through the forest, surrounded the blaze and then, as if on cue, sat down on reed mats. One of the women motioned for me to follow suit.

In the flickering light of the fire, I examined the women. They were of all races and ethnicities, dressed in costumes from all over the world. Each watched me and I could not tell from their impassive faces what they were thinking. After a few moments, I heard a voice from the crowd:

“Rise for the Great Matriarch!”

The women rose. I scrambled to my feet as well.

A tall woman, dressed in a green dashiki kaftan emerged from one end of the ring of women. Her hair was wrapped in a matching turban and she held a tall staff in one hand. On the top was carved figure of a raven, its eyes appeared to be made of amber stones. She stood for a moment and scanned the group. Then her eyes fell on me. She pointed her staff at me.

“You. Who are you?”

I swallowed. My mouth was so dry. “I’m Lori.”

“Why have you come here?”

“Because those were my instructions…I– I was told this at a par-… I mean, I was told to do this by my sisters at Rainbow Beach.”

A brief smile flashed across her face but then vanished.

“What were your reasons for following these ‘instructions’?”

“Well, um, I guess I’m on this journey to find myself..” I winced at my own words. “I mean, I want to get in touch with my interior world.” Ugh, that wasn’t any better.

“I fail to understand why the women of your world get so lost and have to ‘find themselves’. How do you manage to miss what is right in front, beside, behind, above and within yourselves. Truly amazing.”

She had a point. She continued, “But that is not the reason you seek us tonight, is it?”

“No…” I stepped towards her a bit. “I need to help my companion. He was with me on the beach but we were attacked and these three…women… took him.”

“Yes, we know. They are The Spectres of Kerithian Caldera. Lost souls. And very dangerous. Why did they attack you?”

“I don’t know. I thought you might know?”

“Why would you presume that? We have no business with them and neither should you.”

My shoulders sagged. I didn’t know what to do now.

“The Sea-maidens are fluent in many languages. They told me that one of them shouted at you as they left the beach.”

“What did she say?”

“She said that you must ‘Give it to me or he will die in three days.’”

My heart dropped. “What?? No! What do they want?!”

“How would we know this? Obviously, you have something they want.”

I tried to remember everything about my two encounters with the Spectres. The dock…that’s it! They were watching me after I bought my supplies.

I dropped my bag to the ground and began to rummage through it. I pulled out the box I had discovered in the rest of my supplies I purchased from Ahmed.

“This. I think they want this.” I removed the lid. A golden light glowed from within and the women gasped.

“The Mechanism…..She has the Mechanism….Great Heavens above….”

The Matriarch squinted her eyes and stepped towards me. She peered into the box.

“The Antikythera Mechanism. How did you get this?”

“It was in some supplies I bought at Rainbow Beach. Is this what they want?”

“I would think so.”

“What does it do?”

“It is not what it does that is important… it is what it represents. This device represents all devices, every bit of technology ever crafted by the hands of women and men.”

I shook my head. I did not understand.

“Lemuria exists in the heart and the imagination. But is is manifested by technology. The Mechanism embodies the idea of this technology. According to the ancient stories, whoever has the Mechanism possesses the power behind the idea.”

I could see where this was going. “And whoever has the power behind the idea controls how Lemuria emanates to the outer world…” I finished. The Spectres would rule Lemuria.

“That is what the legend says.” Her words hung in the air around me. After a moment the Matriarch asked “What do you plan to do?”

“What do you mean? I going to find Albion and get him back.”

What about your quest to ‘find yourself’?”

“Well, if, as you say, I don’t need to find myself, then I might as well go find someone else, right?”

The women murmured and shifted on their feet. “Spirited girl,” laughed one woman. “Mouthy and insolent if you ask me,” said another.

The Matriarch laughed. “You are beginning to think beyond yourself and to the welfare of others. Well done.”

“Is there anything you can do to help me? I don’t know where to start looking for them”

“My assumption is, if they want you to bring the Mechanism to them, they will be somewhere easy to find. My guess would be they have gone home to their caldera.”

“Thank you. I think that’s on my map. I’ll leave at first light.”

“I think we can give you a little more time. Stand closer the fire.”

I moved toward the firepit. The Matriarch stepped towards me and three other women came forward to join her. As the four of them stood before me, they turned to face each other, each grabbing a wrist of one of the others. Holding their wrists they began moving in a circle, chanting words I did not understand. The rest of the women in the gathering joined in and a sonorous rumble of words and sounds filled the clearing.

I felt the heat of the fire begin to fade along with the voices. Suddenly I found myself in my boat, floating on a slow moving river. It was daylight. Jungle growth boiled over the banks of the river. I heard a cacophony of bird and animals sounds and the buzz of jungle insects. In the distance, up stream, I saw the volcano rising out of the jungle.

I dipped my oar in the water and began to paddle towards it.

Text and image: L. Gloyd (c) 2008

Fish Tails at Mudjimba

I don’t remember waking up — awareness simply flooded over me and I was fully alert. I was still sitting on the sand, where I had stumbled and fallen. I saw the tracks where the women had dragged Albion washing away in the incoming tide.

“Albion!” I struggled to me feet. If the tracks disappeared, I would never be able to follow them.As I stood, I heard giggling and whispering behind me.  “Took her long enough to come around”… “Look at her hair, ew!”…”Shhhh, she’ll hear you.”

I spun around. They so blended into the rocks and sand that I did not see them at first, but then my eyes caught hold of a movement and soon they became clear. “Mermaids!” I muttered. A dozen or more at least writhed and wiggled on the sand and the rocks that surrounded the beach. A chorus of voices rose up. “Did she call us mermaids?!”….”What planet is SHE from?”…..”What a dope….”

“Excuse me!” A small creature slithered towards me on the sand. She was pretty, with a sweet human face and greenish mass of curly hair ringing her cheeks. From the waist down, she sported a bronze-colored fish tail that glistened in the sun. “We are NOT mermaids. My name is Fleura. I am a siren.”

“Sorry, my mistake…the tail sorta fooled me.”

“Tsk. Humans, really! My friend Marita-Anne is also a siren…” Fleura motioned to another creature perched on a rock above. Marita-Anne was silent but her tail slapped ominously on the side of the rock.

“…..and those are sea-nymphs…”, Fleura continued, pointing toward the giggling group. “….and over there are nixies,” indicating a group chasing a flock of sea-gulls. “We also have a couple of coral-maidens and loreleis. We are all very different and we are most definitely NOT mermaids. THAT is a human term. Very insulting.”

“Like I said, sorry. Look, I have to go. My friend needs some help.”

“You mean that cute guy….”

“Um, yeah, I guess.”

“Is he your boyyyyyyfriend????” sang one of the tittering sea-nymphs.

“Noooooo, if it’s any of your business.” The sea-nymph puffed out her lips in a pout and slithered away.  “Did you see those three women take him?

“Uh-huh. They’re ugly. Why were you hanging out with them?”

“We weren’t. How long ago did they leave?” I snapped. Patience was not my strong suit.

“A long time ago. What are those things you humans use to count time…..?.”

“Hours” whispered one of the nixies, who waved a wristwatch attached to her arm.

“Thank you, Viola… A diver gave her that thing…..it’s really cool with all the little moving thingys and the lights and buzzers….”

“How long ago!”

“Okay, okay, about three hours ago.”

“Three hours?!” I noticed that the sun had in fact gotten low on the horizon and it would be dark soon. “What happened to me?”

Fleura laughed. “Marita Anne sang one of her ’special songs.’ She scared those ugly women and put you right out. That doesn’t usually happen. You must have a weak mind.”

Marita-Ann smiled and slapped her tail especially hard on the rocks.

“Right, thanks.” I glared at her and picked up my gear.

“Wait! You can’t leave.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cuz”

I sighed.  ”"Cuz why?”

“”Cuz the Mudjimba want to talk to you first.”

The Mudjimba. Of course. They would help. They had to help.

“Where can I find the Mudjimba”.

Fleura pointed to the top of the bluff. There, silhouetted against the blaze of the setting sun, stood a crowd of women– tall, monumental in stature and all extremely somber.

Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure of myself anymore.

L. Gloyd (c) 2008

Sail Away to Triton’s Realm

L. Gloyd (c) 2008

The Beach at Mudjimba

I have lived near the sea all my life and I have never seen storm clouds move in so fast. The wind sharply picked up and soon it was a full-blown gale. I dug out the extra pair of oars and soon Albion and I were struggling to keep our small boat on course toward Mudjimba Island.

“It’s only a mile more!” I shouted to Albion over the howling wind.

The rain came in, blowing sideways, stinging our faces and hands. The swells grew higher and higher and we nearly capsized twice. I felt a wave pick up the boat, hurdling us towards a beach. Eventually, I felt the boat drag on the sand. Albion and I jumped out into the swirling surf. We each grabbed a mooring line and hauled the boat ashore and away from the dangerous water.

Albion shouted, “Everything is getting soaked!” He pointed to an overhang protruding from the rocky cliffs lining the beach. “Let’s get the gear over there!”

He started yanking our bundles out of the boat. I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder. I began pulling out the rest of our supplies. I heard a sound, a dull thud followed by a groan. I dropped the bundles and hurried around to the other side of the craft. I saw Albion, face down on the sand.

“Albion!” Three figures stood over him, dressed in gray. They were fuzzy, like ghosts, almost blending into the background of the sand and rock. The women I saw at the dock!

One was searching Albion’s clothing; the other was poking through the bundles next to him on the sand.

“Get away from him!”

The third woman, who seemed to be overseeing the two, turned and advanced towards me. Instinctively, I snatched up one of the oars from the edge of the boat and faced her square on.

A gust of wind rose and the veil across the advancing figure’s face fell away. Her skin was sickly yellow with blotches of decay on her cheeks and forehead. Dark slippery curls, seaweed perhaps, tangled around her face and she snarled at me, displaying her jagged, rotten teeth. And she reeked. Oh, did she smell. Like putrifying flesh.

“Sweet mother….” I stepped back and stumbled to the sand.

I’m not sure what happened next. I heard something. A voice, a woman singing. Her song was sweeter than any sacred hymn I had ever heard. It resonated through me and I felt my awareness starting to slip away.

I heard another sound: a chorus of shreaks and cries. Struggling to stay conscious, I cracked open my eyes in time to see two of the women grab the unmoving Albion under the arms and drag him down the beach. The other woman ran behind them, both hands over her ears and shouting harsh words in a language I did not understand.

The last thing I remember was my own voice whispering “Albion…”

Image and text: L. Gloyd (c) 2008

Red Coral

“There! I see red coral,” I shouted to Albion as we slowly moved over the top of the reef. I pulled my head out of the observation box.

“Let’s move the boat a little closer.” I quickly stripped off my outer garments and put on a pair of goggles. “There’s some about 20 feet down. I’ll find a broken off piece, then we can row over to the edge of the blue hole and I’ll pitch it in. That’ll make Old Triton happy and we can be on our way.”

Albion deftly maneuvered the boat as I had directed. “You had better take the small hand saw in case you can’t find any pieces.”

“Hand saw?” I had not considered the possibility of having to cut any coral. Paying off Triton with a bit of coral seemed a small price to pay to get to the island. Reluctantly, though, I dug through the supply box and found the saw.

“Is this the right place?”

“Yes.” I eased myself onto the edge of the boat and then fell backward into the warm water.

I descended into the water, like an angel wafting on the breath of God. I was enveloped in a ring of colors as schools of blue and red fish swirled around me. I made it to the bottom near a wall of red coral. I was careful not to stir up the silt.

I quickly scanned around for a piece of broken coral but did not see any. I glided to the nearest branch and pulled out the saw.

The coral, this beautiful trinity that is animal, plant and mineral all in one, seemed to vibrate with energy. I lifted the saw.

No! I cannot do this. It would be a blasphemy to violate the coral. Triton will have to find another way to get his coral. I’ll figure out another way to gain passage to Mudjimba. I won’t pay with blood.

I paddled my way upward and popped through the surface.

“Did you get it?” called Albion.

“No…help me in please”.

Albion hoisted me over the edge of the boat. He did not say anything until I toweled off. Gone was his usual smirk.

“What happened?”

“Nothing. I just couldn’t cut the coral. It would not have been right.”

“Triton won’t be happy.”

“Triton can go pound sand, for all I care! I will not violate the reef.”

Albion nodded. “For whatever it’s worth, I think you did the right thing.”

“It’s worth a lot. Thanks.”

“So, Captain, how are we getting to Mudjimba without paying the passage? Getting angry and having a fit worked the last time you tried to get out of paying a fee….”

“Shut up…. The Island is not that far away. We’ll just row across the channel. No problem…..”

“Sure, no problem she says.” Albion picked up the oars and turned the boat away from the reef.

I noticed the wind was beginning to pick up.

Text and image: Lori Gloyd (c) 2008

—————————–

Click here to learn 25 Things You Can Do to Save Coral Reefs

Move Over, Dr. Who…..

Ladies, ladies, ladies…. you ain’t seen nothin’ yet…

Arriving at the Reef

Albion and I took turns rowing most of the day. The water of the estuary grew more and more brackish until it was completely sea water.  Soon we were skimming the edge of Triton’s Island. In the distance were the hills of Mudjimba Island and the expanse of the Great Ocean beyond. Albion had been silent for most of the trip. Pouting, most likely.

I saw the reef as soon as we rounded Triton’s Point. The reef encompassed a blue hole, a depression in the sea floor made by a volcanic event long ago. Triton lived deep at the bottom.

“Here. Here’s where we want to stop.”

“We? May I ask a question without my head being taken off?”

I flushed with embarrassment.

“Sure.”

“Why are we here?”

I had figured he would know since he was sent by Madame T. At least he was talking now.

“According to the instructions I received, I’m supposed to get a piece of red coral and give it to Triton.” I began unloading the observation box.

“I see. May I ask why?”

“So he’ll give me passage to Mudjimba Island.” So far he wasn’t being argumentative.

“Hmmmm…. Why do you want to go to Mudjimba Island?”

“I don’t really know. E. will let us know when we get there.” It was nice having a regular conversation with this man.

“Right…. It’s a girl thing, I reckon?” He seemed to be getting it now.

“That’s it.”

“So you have to appease some ocean entity in order to get to an island for which you have no discernable reason to land? Sounds a bit risky, if you ask me. I’d better get prepared to rescue you, then.”

I knew it couldn’t last. I swung around to face him. “Look, don’t worry about me–”

Albion was standing in the boat.  He had removed his boots and was slowly unbuckling his sword.

For some reason, I couldn’t look and turned my attention back to the observation box.

“Uh, would you mind rowing slowly while I take a look? It shouldn’t be too hard to find the coral….”

I thought I heard him chuckle, but I forgot all about him when I leaned over the edge of the boat with the box. What I saw was truly astounding…….

Photo and text: L.Gloyd (c) 2008

Going in the Right Direction

After I pushed away from the dock, Albion and I flipped a coin to see who would row first. He lost and picked up both oars.

“Which way, Captain?”

I pulled out the map that I had purchased and unrolled it. I marked the route I had taken when I arrived through the portal and then charted our next course.

“To the Blue Hole and Triton’s Lair.”

“Triton’s Lair?” Albion’s cool demeanor cracked. “Triton is someone best left alone.”

“Don’t start with me, Albion.”

“Alright, alright….”

Text and image: L.Gloyd (c) 2008
Map created in Terragen.

The Mechanism

“So tell me about this marvelous device.”  Albion settled himself down beside me on the dock.

“Well, the original Antikythera Mechanism is actually a bunch of corroded gears.  It was found in the remains of an ancient shipwreck in the Mediterranean about 100 years ago.  It dates to about the first century.  Archeologists have been baffled by it for years.  See….” I flipped the little gold box over.  “….it will calculate the position of the sun, moon, planets, and a few stars for any given date.  Basically, it is a primitive computer.”

“I see.”

“It is an amazing piece of mechanical engineering.  Nothing like this was seen again for at least a thousand years.  It demonstrates that the ancients were farther along technologically than we thought.   Until now, it has been thought that only one existed so it was concluded that it was an aberration… some little device created for the amusement of  an engineer.   But here’s another.  This means that there are probably more and that it was a piece of technology more widely used.  It changes how we should view classical antiquity.”

Albion remarked, “And to think it would turn up in Lemuria.”

Lemuria.  My heart sank.  That’s right.  We’re in Lemuria.  Lemuria is a virtual realm.  It’s not real.  Therefore the mechanism is not real.  None of this is real.  Not even Albion. 

I sighed.  Yet, it must mean something.  Everything in Lemuria is laden with meaning.  There is a reality for sure in that.   This device has percolated up from my unconscious.  It is a message of some sort.  It has meaning even if it is not a physical reality.

“Excuse me…”

“Huh?”

“You went away for a moment.”

“Sorry, I was just contemplating the nature of reality.”

“In the middle of loading a boat?”

“Sorry—”  Something caught my eye.  Across the street from the docks, near the carpet merchant’s stall, stood four people.  One was a man dressed in the manner of a merchant.   The other figures were covered from head to foot in gray robes.  Only their eyes showed.   Their small statures suggested to me that they were women.   The man was quietly speaking to them, frequently glancing in my direction. 

“Albion,” I said in a hushed voice, “do you know those people over there?”

To his credit, Albion discretely turned and viewed them.  He whispered back, “The man is Ahmed, one of the merchants.  The others, I don’t know.”

“What kind of guy is Ahmed?”

“A hard and shrewd business man.  He’ll sell his mother if you offered enough, but other than that he has managed to stay out of trouble.  I wouldn’t worry about him.  The others, though…..”

“I know.  They give me the creeps.”

“Do you want me to check them out?”

“No, let’s finish here and get going.  You still insisting on coming?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Well, I’m in command, just remember that.”

“Yes, Captain.”

I put the mechanism back in its box and shoved it way down to the bottom of my bag.  In a matter of minutes, we were finished.   As I untied the moorings,  I glanced back towards the stalls and saw that Ahmed and the women in gray had vanished.

A shiver went up my spine as I pushed the boat away from the dock.

L. Gloyd (c)  2008

The Box

I took a deep breath and tried to keep my voice calm.

“Albion, please convey to Madame T. that I appreciate her generosity, but–respectfully– I really do not need you to come along.

“Respectfully, my dear, she pays me. You do not. I am, in fact, coming.”

“I don’t think you understand. This is supposed to be a journey of inner exploration, personal growth, creative inspiration-that sort of thing.” I leaned in close to Albion and whispered, “It’s sorta a girl thing, y’know. No offense intended.”

“None taken,” he whispered back.   “So it’s no men, is it?”

“Yeah, that’s right. I don’t need a guy to help me.”

“Who says I am going to help you? That’s a little presumptuous, don’t you think. Maybe I am just along for the journey.”

“Huh?”

“Has it ever occurred to you that not all journeys are meant to be experienced alone?”

“What do you mean?”

“You tend to do quite a bit on your own. That’s fine except you do it quite a lot.  Too much.”

I began loading my supplies onto the boat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“When you discover something new and wondrous, who do you tell? With whom do you share the joy of the experience?”

Albion pulled a bundle off the dock and put it in the boat.

“I never really thought about it before,” I replied.

“Maybe you should. It’s a little pathetic, actually.”

I whirled around and glared at him. “Hey! Who are you to pass judgment on me? You don’t know me! You don’t know what—”

“Are you always this irritable or just when you’re hung over?”

My mouth fell open and tried to think of some appropriate invective to hurl at Albion. Before I could respond, he picked up the container with the observation box. “What’s this?”

Still struggling with my words, I tersely answered, “It’s a device for viewing underwater.”

Albion rattled the container. “It sounds broken.”

“It had better not be! Here, give it to me.” My anger was replaced with concern. I would not be able to replace the device if it were damaged in any way. I sat down on the dock, opened the container, and pulled out the observation box. I examined it carefully and could see nothing that appeared broken. I set it aside and looked into the container. A smaller box slid around and rattled in the bottom. I lifted it out.

“It would appear that you got more than you bargained for,” said Albion.

I gently slid back the top of the smaller container. A flash of gold glowed from within. Inside the box was a small rectangular device with two circular slits in the face. Each circular incision held metal wires that pointed to a series of inscriptions. The inscribed figures appeared to be Egyptian and Greek.

I pulled the object from the box.  I must have uttered something because Albion quickly squatted down next to me to get a better look.

“What is that?”

“I can’t believe it,” I replied. I turned the device over in my hands to examine the back of it. “This is incredible.”

“What? What is it?”

“This looks like… oh, it can’t be… only one of these has ever been found. If this is another one, then classical history, as we know it, is no longer accurate.”

“Tell me what this is?”

“It looks like…. The Antikythera Mechanism!” I held the device up so I could catch the sun in its burnished golden face. Unbelievable! I laughed with delight.

“It looks like you made a wondrous discovery, my dear, and I’m waiting for you to tell me all about it.”

I looked at him. I expected to see an “I-told-you-so” look on his face. Instead, he appeared as engaged and excited as me. For the first time, it occurred to me that he might not be so annoying after all.

L. Gloyd © 2008

The Morning After

At first, I couldn’t remember where I was when I woke up. As the fog lifted I realized I was in a guest room at the Golden Camel. It took me a moment to remember how I got there, but as clarity settled over my brain, I began to laugh.What a night it had been! The pageant: Dancing, singing, story-telling, and getting to know my sister-travelers. It was a party to end all parties. In my schmoozing with the girls, I found out that the next step of the journey was to travel by river to visit the Mudgimba women and see the marine wonders along the way. First, though, I had to obtain some supplies for the trip: something new, something old, and something borrowed.As I rolled out of bed and took a look in the mirror, I decided that the “new” item would have to be clothing. I squinted closely at the mirror: What in the world did I spill on myself last night?

I cleaned myself up the best I could, paid the inn-keeper and proceeded outdoors. I groaned when the bright morning sun blasted my eyes. My head throbbed. I vaguely remember Anita Marie pouring us some weird concoction she created. That’s when things started to get fuzzy. Something about a howling-at-the-moon contest………

Painfully, I made my way down to the market area. I quickly negotiated with a clothing merchant for a new set of clothes along with food, water, and other supplies for the boat.

Haggling for these items was easy enough, but I was told by Chefleur to beware of Ahmed, the dealer of antiquities. He was the only person in town who had an observation box which I would need for viewing marine life. I was prepared to bargain hard for it; however, to my relief, his wife Fatima was running the stall when I came by. She sold the observation box to me for the first amount I offered. She winked at me: “This will get his blood moving when he finds out about this,” she wickedly laughed. Strange marriage, but who am I to judge. I was just happy to acquire my “old” item. Now I just needed to borrow something. I wasn’t at all hopeful about borrowing anything from the group of racketeers who operated the docks.

When I arrived at my boat to drop off my supplies I saw a familiar face. Albion.

“What are you doing here? I paid my fee. Besides, I’m leaving soon.”

“Yes, I know.”

“News travels fast. What’s that bag?”

“My gear. I’m coming with you.”

“What? No you aren’t. I don’t need you.”

“Apparently, you do. I’m being ‘lent’ to you by Madame T.”

“Lent?” Something borrowed.

Madame T. has a wicked sense of humor.

Lori Gloyd © 2008

In the Golden Camel

“No way!  There is no way I’m getting up on that stage,” I whined as we approached the stage in the pub.

I turned to leave but Mr. Albion’s arm-crossed chest barred my way.  He said nothing.

“Look, I’ll just get in my boat and sail on away, okay?”

“She won’t be pleased.”

“I don’t care whether SHE is pleased or not.  I am NOT dancing, got it?”

“Is there a problem, Albion?”.  The smooth voice of a woman sounded over the din from the corner of the room.

“We’re still sorting that out, Madame T.,” replied Albion.  “She is another…Traveler”.

“Really?  Which one?  Come here, dear, so I can see you.”

I hesitated.

“Now, please.  Albion?”

Albion touched the corner of my elbow.  “Alright!  I’m going.”  I shook off Albion hand and headed towards the voice.

In the corner was a canopy of purple and gold silks.  A green beaded lamp nestled in the folds of the fabric.   The area was strewn with a dozen or more overstuffed cushions embroidered in gold and silver designs.  A woman in a blue gown lounged on one of them.   It was hard for me to make out her appearance in the dim light, but I could see her smoky dark eyes looking me over.

“Oh, yes.  I remember you.  I had a bit of trouble getting you to enter the portal.  What brings you into The Golden Camel?”

I glanced at Albion.

“She didn’t have the fee, madam.  She tried to pay me with… things….from her bag.  So I brought her to see you.  I know what a soft spot you have for these Travelers.”

Madame T’s voice took on a hard edge.  “From her bag?  You tried to use the gifts in your bag as currency?  That is utterly unacceptable. “

I crossed my arms over my chest and said nothing.

“Sit” she commanded.

On the small table beside Madame T. was a small crystal glass containing a green liquid.  She placed a silver spoon with a sugar cube over the mouth of the glass and  poured a small amount of water onto the cube.  The sugar slowly dissolved into the glass.   She appeared to be thinking about something.  Then she said, “Albion, would you be so kind as to have a glass of refreshment sent over for our guest.”

“Yes, madam.”

When Albion was out of earshot, the woman leveled her gaze at me.  “So you think the gifts in your bag are mere trinkets to be bartered?”

“I didn’t really have much choice.  I -”

“Don’t be ridiculous.  You have all the currency you need to navigate this land.   Look again.”

I opened my bag and dug my hand way to the bottom.  I felt a number of coins.

“The gifts, on the other hand, are not so easily bestowed and they must never, EVER be treated with disrespect.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I mumbled.  Somehow I knew we were not talking about little brass trinkets.

“You have been given gifts–  gifts in the form of movement, words, imagination, spirit.   Those gifts are meant to be shared with others, not bartered away.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“That is the whole reason you have been chosen for this journey-so you can share your gifts.”

I  nodded.  She was right.

Albion returned and set a glass of mineral water in front of me.  The woman nodded at me, and I handed Albion a gold coin from my bag.  “Sorry for the mix-up.”

“Will this be sufficient to cover the fee, Albion?” asked Madame T.

“More than enough, Madam.”  He slightly bowed as he left us.

“Now, for the other matter…..”

“What other matter?”

“What is this I hear?  You don’t wish to dance with the others?”

“Well….my dancing days are over.  I’m ten years, forty pounds, and a herniated disk past dancing like that.  Besides I was never any good at it anyway.”

“Tsk.” She sighed.  “When will these Travelers learn– The body may fail, but the spirit is still alive.”

I lowered my head.  I could not look at her.

“Am I right?”

“I guess.”

“Even if you never dance again, the spirit, the duende, is still alive in you, and you must heed it in some way. You can never deny the creative spirit.   That is why you still have your dancing scarves.”

My head snapped up.  How could she know that?

She smiled at me.  I nodded and smiled back.

“Now that that’s settled, what gift have you brought me?”

“Gift?  I’m sorry; I don’t have a gift for you.  I didn’t have a chance to pack properly… you remember… I sorta got taken by surprise.”

“Oh yes, indeed.  Well, then you’ll have to dance for me instead of a giving me a gift.”

“Um, well, I don’t have the proper attire,” I hedged.

“Well…”  Madame T. reached behind a cushion.  “…I just so happen to have… your scarves.”   I heard the familiar jingle of coins and beads as she lifted up three of my favorite hip scarves.  I hadn’t seen them in years.   They should be home in the back of my closet.

The drum music seemed to be louder and my fingers began moving as if playing invisible cymbals.  I had to admit, it would be fun to dance again.   Madame T laughed with delight as I stood up and tied the purple and gold scarf onto my hips.

The girls on stage saw me and erupted in wild zaghareet.  I put my hand over my mouth and trilled back at them.

As I made my way towards the stage, I saw Albion looking at me a smug smile on his face.  “Oh, cut it out.” I whispered as I brushed past him.

He laughed.  “I’m amazed, that’s all.  It’s not every day a person gets an audience with a Muse.”

As I climbed atop the stage, it came to me:  Madame T.?  Duh! Of course!  Terpsichore, the Muse of Dance!

It was then that my spirit truly soared.

Image and story:  L. Gloyd © 2008

Here are images of my hip scarves.  No, I never performed.  I just danced in classes for fun and exercise. 

 

At Rainbow Beach: The Dock Master

Instinct told me I needed to get out of the estuary and to dry land before the river’s current swept me out to sea. As I reached for the boat’s oars, I saw a bag. The top was open, and a scroll with a tag addressed to me jutted through it. Considering how I came to be here, I was not at all surprised. I rolled open the scroll.

Your heart’s desire
is within your reach
if you proceed up the River
to the Rainbow Beach.

I turned the scroll over. There were no other instructions. Okay, it’s up the river I go. I dipped the oars in the water and headed deeper into the estuary.

It was tough going. I navigated through streams and backwaters looking for the main channel of the river.  The reeds were high and green, and the fragrance of plumeria and frangipani perfumed the air. A bush with purple flowers, a kind I’d never seen before, covered the banks.

After an hour of rowing, I saw another small boat. It had an elaborate sail that reminded me of a felucca. I called to the group of people aboard the craft and asked directions to Rainbow Beach. The oarsman conferred with one of his colleagues, who chuckled and nodded. The oarsman called back, “Up the Kerith, about two miles. That way!” he pointed. I thanked him and turned my boat in the direction he had given.

A short time later I rounded a bend in the river and an assortment of buildings, towers, docks, ships, and dozens of brightly-garbed people came into view. The sand along the edge of the river glittered in a myriad of colors.

Rainbow Beach.

I drew up to the closest dock and secured the boat. Men and women scurried back and forth on the dockside, unloading boats and haggling over crates and bundles. Low mud buildings with canopy-covered entrances were situated across from the docks. I heard the sound of drums and flutes, punctuated by loud laughter, coming from one of the buildings That must be the local pub. I realized I was very thirsty.

I looked up the street. In one of the stalls I saw a woman in a green gown using a pinkie finger to delicately taste the contents of an open bundle. I could smell cinnamon and cloves. In another stall, a man unrolled a plush carpet in reds and golds while another man looked it over. I heard him say, “Excellent, Esteban. A fine acquisition.”

At the end of the dock area, a string of camels, laden with bundles, lumbered away, the little brass bells attached to their harnesses tinkling as their master lightly slapped them with leather crop.

The Silk Road. I’m somewhere on the Silk Road. It was beginning to make some sense. As I pondered this, I swung around and saw a bearded man watching me. He wore a black head covering and a silk tunic. A long curved sword hung at his side. He motioned for me to come.

“Who, me?”

He nodded. I sighed and walked over.

“Your fee, please”

“Excuse me? Fee?”

“Yes, all travelers docking at Rainbow Beach must pay a mooring fee. Seventy-five Lemurian shekels.”

“Oh, well, um…I’m sorta having a cash flow problem here…”

I started fumbling through my bag, hoping there would be some change in the bottom. No luck.

“Uh, I have this little unicorn…” I pulled it from the bag. The dock master glared at me but said nothing.

“Okay, how about…..” I pulled a small brass anchor from the bag “…this… surely you have need of an anchor with all these boats, right?”

“Seventy-five shekels. Or you will have to leave.”

“Look, Mister….”

“Albion.”

“Look, Mister Albion. You will not believe what kind of morning I’ve had. I was just drinking my coffee and minding my own business when all of a sudden this freaky-weird chick starts telling me to take a leap. I get knocked over by an earthquake, almost drowned by a tidal wave, had to row about 20 flippin’ miles through a jungle just to get to this backwash of a town. I am thirsty, tired, and sweaty, so you might just want to cut me a little slack, okay? ” I realized that I was poking Mr. Albion in the chest with my finger. I backed away quickly.

“So, maybe we can work something out, here, huh?” I tried to chuckle.

Mr. Albion smirked. “She told you to ‘take a leap?’”

“Yes.”

“I think we might be able to work out something.” Albion looked towards the pub. “She likes to be entertained. If she likes what you do, then we’ll waive the fee.”

“Like what kind of entertainment?” I was beginning to fidget a bit. Maybe moving on up the river wasn’t such a bad idea.

“Come this way.” We walked into the pub. The beat of the drum music vibrated through my chest.

“She likes a good dance.”

He motioned me towards a stage where three women beckoned me to join them. My heart sank. No way…..

Still images and story: L. Gloyd (c) 2008

Video: YouTube. Fat Chance Belly Dance

Into the Blue and Beneath the Deep

I should have figured it was going to be an odd day when I saw the sky change color. It was a quick series of flashes— emerald, pink, blue—flashes that reminded me of a malfunctioning computer monitor. I looked around at the other morning walkers and joggers on the strand to see if they were reacting to the phenomenon. It appeared that no one else had noticed. I shook my head and tried to recall the last time I had been to an eye doctor.

I reached the coffee house and bought a grande with a shot of vanilla, then made my way down to the beach. It was a cool morning in January, but the sun was shining and I knew I would be comfortably warm soon. I found my favorite bench and settled in with the coffee and a book I had brought with me.

The book had been a gift: a compendium local strange tales and urban myths. I love these sorts of stories and this was the first opportunity I had to dig into the book. I opened my bag and fished out my spectacles. This was going to be good.

I browsed the book for a while, reading about haunted hotels, UFO sightings, and the Lizard People who supposedly lived under downtown L.A. Then I turned the page and a caption caught my eye: “The Land of Lemuria”

Now, anybody familiar with the Soul Food Café group will know that Lemuria is the name that Café members have given to the virtual realm where they write and make art. We have had many discussions about the real, mythical, and virtual Lemuria, so it struck me as somewhat serendipitous that this article should fall into my hands. Then I nearly fell off the bench when I read what came next.

According to article, the Chumash, one of the tribes of indigenous people who once populated the mountains and coastline near Malibu, have a legend that tells of an ancient race of people that preceded them in the region. The sea had been lower then, and the Santa Monica mountains stretched all the way to what are now the Channel Islands. This race of people, whom the Chumash called the Mu, lived on this land. Then one day there was a huge flood and this civilization was washed away. Sound familiar? It did to me.

Wow! I put down the book and stared across the bay towards Malibu and the western edge of the Santa Monicas. I chuckled. All this time I had been pondering the location of Lemuria and all this time I had been living only a few miles away. Who knew?

Then I heard something. The voice was faint, a tiny whisper behind me. I twisted around in the bench to see who was there. No one. In fact, there was not a jogger, walker, or sunbather in sight. The strand and beach were deserted.

The voice came again, this time a little louder. It was a woman’s voice, soft, smooth, and lyrical.

To find Lemuria
You must take the leap
Into the blue
And beneath the deep

The bench started to tremble, and I saw the lightposts running along the edge of the strand begin to sway. I jumped up and grabbed the back of the bench to steady myself. I’d experienced this before: earthquake.

The ground jolted beneath me and I heard the rattle of window panes in the townhouses along the beach. This was going to be a bad one.

A flash exploded over the bay, and I lowered my face for a moment away from the blinding light. When I looked up, I was washed by the glow of an indigo light. It was a color almost beyond description– not sapphire, not amethyst, but something in between. Squinting against the light, I saw shapes erupting from the sea. Mountain tops, which had not been there before, now filled the bay.

Then, the sea pulled back, and a dreadful pain hit me in the chest. I knew what was coming.

The wet sand, where the sea had been just a moment ago, sparkled and was filled with coral and stranded fish. This is not right, I thought. There are no reefs here. What is this?

The ocean began to rise and roared back towards the beach. I should be running. But I didn’t want to. I just stood and stared.

I became aware of a woman standing next to me. She was pale, like moonlight, but her eyes sparkled with a wildness that I knew was madness. Yet I listened.

…Take the leap….

Without hesitation, I moved towards the rushing water.

When the tsunami’s wave struck me, I expected it to break every bone in my body. Instead, I was sucked down by the pressure of the water.

I was not afraid. In fact, it was calm and peaceful there. Branches of blue and orange coral spread out on the floor of the sea. Bright fish, unknown to these parts, darted among swaying anemones. I saw a statue, like a moai from Easter Island.

Common sense, if such a thing were possible now, overcame me and I tried to push myself to the surface. The power of the wave had not diminished and I was soon exhausted. My lungs were at the point of collapse. There was no resisting. I just let go and waited for the darkness to close in on me.

I felt a powerful grip on my arm and my body surged upward. I burst through the surface of the water, sputtering and gasping. I felt another hand grab the other arm, and I was hoisted over the edge of a small boat. I fell to the bottom of the vessel, coughing and spitting water.

“Thank you. Oh, thank you,” I managed to say.

There was no response.

I sat up and found myself alone. But that did not surprise me nearly as much as the sight before me. I was floating in a small boat in the mouth of an enormous river.

“I don’t think I’m in California anymore.”

—————————————————
Some notes on this post:

The book I refer to is a real one: Weird California, by Greg Bishop, Joe Oesterle, and Mike Martinacci. Sterling Publishing Co, 2006. The article I refer to is on page 31.

Images:
1. Manipulated photograph. The first image is of the Santa Monica range looking towards Malibu. The streak in the sky is probably a con trail from a missile launched from an air force base up the coast. Or if you believe what is on page 70 of the book, it could be a UFO over Topanga. ?
2. Photo montage. The image of the woman is actually a first century marble statue of a Muse.
3. Photo montage with computer generated elements.
4. Manipulated photograph. This is actually Young’s River, a tributary that empties into the estuary of the Columbia River in Oregon.

Story and Images: L. Gloyd © 2008