I am finally ready to draw this tale to an end and so have begun its final walk. Here is an excerpt in my new space. You can read my words Here.
PS. I hope you have a fantastic #free48!
I am finally ready to draw this tale to an end and so have begun its final walk. Here is an excerpt in my new space. You can read my words Here.
PS. I hope you have a fantastic #free48!
Well, here I am again. I know I have been less visible lately and I apologize that it is taking me longer to visit all your wonderful posts. I work continually to catch up.. Between work and trying to enjoy life a bit as well as my creative projects I have less time for blogging as often as I have in the past.
To that end, I have been working more diligently on the novel and, as in the past, I wanted to share a chapter with you here. If you haven’t read past chapters, some of the characters won’t be familiar but the sequence can stand alone as a preview of what is to come.
I welcome your thoughts or comments and hope you find something in this story that intrigues you. If you are interested in the history of the story or previous chapters I have post, just type in Forever Never under archived posts.
I hope you all have a terrific week!
Forever Never/Dawn of the Dream
Copyright Cheryl K Pennington 2019
One by one they made their way
Into the hills of dark decay..
Othar climbed the jagged steps to reach the summit where she knew the view was unobstructed, the work made harder by her girth and the added weight of the small girl who insisted on going with her. And why wouldn’t the child want to see where her father had gone? Youth and age somehow found communion in their sorrow and hope. They both loved Rith in their own way and were relieved when others in the village decided to join him. Of course, the proud and private Rith balked at first. He had always been such a loner but for his friendship with Carraig and grew even more withdrawn in the days following Carraig’s decision to join Amhain in his search for the mother of of their world. He was always amiable with the villagers; but he kept himself busy with work in the mines and trying to give his daughter enough love to make up for the absence of her mother. Rith was grateful she had only been a babe when the starry night bled fire and rained ash, his heart torn between gratitude and anguish. He was thankful his precious child would not be tormented by dreams of Damanta’s dead eyes as she descended into the valley of caves, burning over half the villagers alive as the rest watched in confusion and horror. No one above ground saw it coming, with such a simple life going on as usual. They had their food, laughed and chatted while the children chased light bugs around the fire pit.
Othar giggled out loud, then slapped her hand over her own mouth.
“Dear Mother,” she whispered. “What a damnable thought,” she cursed herself for that moment of thinking. Light bugs. That was what Damanta looked like as she descended into their valley. Her eyes glowed like a couple of giant light bugs.
Othar had seen them first, floating above the horizon silently, then growing larger and brighter as she shattered their world with rage and purpose. By the time the others saw them and grasped the reality of danger, the beast was in the valley, spewing fire and cinder across their lives. Damanta cared not what she destroyed in her fury. Families screamed as they fled in futility, their contorted faces melting before Othar’s eyes just before they burst into flames. Her only thought in those moments was to grab her best friend’s infant daughter and run, scrambling for the safety of the caves. Her mind raced to Carraig and their friends, but she could only worry about keeping Agra out of danger. The heat of Damanta’s breath singed the ground behind every labored step that she ran; but the terror in Othar’s heart refused to allow her to see anything but the lights above them, the glowing miracles of the caves. As she fought her way to the steps, those lights soon began to flicker and fade, for the ones who were safely in them snuffed their fires in the hopes of being spared. The ground quaked beneath her feet as she climbed the rocks that led to hope, holding tightly to Joy’s daughter and counting the familiar steps that would bring them to safety. Rocks began tumbling from overhead and she ducked to avoid them, shielding the child with her body. Dust and grit flew into her eyes and she cried out, unable to wipe it away. She squinted, reached for the ledge with a free hand and climbed up, hoping her beloved and friends were there, waiting.
“Carraig!” She screamed. “Joy, Rith! I have her. Agra is safe!” Othar stumbled towards the safety of the cave and ran smack into Carraig. “Oh! Dear love, you’re safe!” She sobbed into the darkness.
“What in the name of all that is holy is happening?” He shouted over the din of falling rock, shouting and other unidentifiable noises. “Look at your face, Othar!” He pulled a soiled cloth from his pocket and tried to brush the dirt from her eyes the best he could. She winced when he rubbed the fresh cuts on her cheeks. With her eyes working again, she examined the infant for damage, but Agra slept in her arms as peacefully as though the world was not crashing down around her. Othar and Carraig were relieved to see Rith bound up the last few steps, panting, his eyes wild with terror.
“Have you seen them..” he began, then nearly collapsed when he saw Othar clutching his child to her bosom. “Blessed Mothers, thank you,” Rith mumbled as he rushed to their side and took his daughter from Othar, giving his friend an appreciative kiss. “Thank you, thank you..” he murmured between wet the kisses he planted on his daughter’s face. Huge rocks crashed against the ledge before tumbling to the ground below, sending a new wave of screams into the night. Rith looked around frantically.
“Where is Joy?!” he shrieked, as his eyes searched the shadows of the cave for that beautiful face and listened for the musical sound of her voice. But, there was only silence within that darkness and the eerily dancing glow on the cave walls from the fire outside. The shadow and light seemed to mock him. He turned back to his friends, his moment of gratitude shattered by new fear as he looked past them and shouted, “Joy! Joy!”
Rith glared at Othar accusingly, the gripping fear overriding any crumb of rationality he might have had in that moment, and it broke her heart. “Where is she, Othar?” His eyes begged for the answer he wanted to hear but she had no words. She shrugged innocently while Carraig stood behind her defensively, his arms wrapped around her.
“Rith, Othar just got here with Agra. She climbed up here alone. We haven’t seen Joy…”
“Rith! Othar, Carraig, where is Agra?”
Joy’s stricken face appeared like a miracle as she clambered up over the ledge, tripping on the last step. When she saw them all standing there-everyone she loved-safe and sound, her heart beat with relief and happiness. Being Joy, she found a smile in her heart and it spread across her beautiful round face, glowing like a torch in the darkest of nights they would ever know. She held out her arms and Rith hurried towards her, holding their infant daughter. He was a mere step or two away from his life’s purpose when a blast of hot, rancid air struck his face, stealing his breath and blinding him. Instinctively, the loving father turned away, shielding their daughter from the heat. He heard the sharp, scraping of claw to rock and the muffled, shocked cry that escaped Joy’s mouth in that last moment they shared.
By the time he turned around, by the time Othar and Carraig ran from inside the cave and by the time Joy knew what was happening, she was firmly in the clutches of the beast. Although she wriggled, kicked and punched, she could not free herself. The last image Rith had of his Joy was her arms reaching out in futility for those who longed to save her; and the look of shock and terror etched on the faces of her friends would be the last thing she would remember.
Joy watched those anguished faces grow smaller as Damanta retreated, climbing higher into the night of a million lights. She struggled against the claw that held her tightly, wanting only to die in that moment. Why hadn’t the beast burned her along with the others? Who would care for Agra and Rith now? She wailed into the silent sky, still as death, as it whooshed past her tear streaked face. Her heart was broken and she cursed the Realm for abandoning them all.
Othar couldn’t breathe. Carraig stood frozen on the ledge, the images of burned bodies, piles of rock and ash singed onto his his heart and soul. The valley wreaked of death, the lingering cries of pain and despair hanging on the hot air like a fog that numbed his senses. He looked at Rith, standing too near the edge of the ledge with his daughter lying precariously in his arms. As if in a dream, Carraig saw Rith’s legs jerk, jarring him back into stark realization. Carraig jumped, grabbing his friend by the shoulders. In that same moment Othar realized what was about to happen and lunged toward the distraught male, grabbing Agra from his limp arms. Othar clutched the infant tightly to her bosom, fresh horror invading her heart.
Rith tried to jump, he longed to jump over that ledge. Somewhere inside his momentarily deranged mind, he thought he could fly after them, that the wings of his love would take him to where they were so that he could save his beloved, his life, his Joy. He was only vaguely aware of the strong arms around his shoulders and that his daughter was ripped from his arms as the evil interloper held him back, keeping him on that dreadful, empty, painful ledge. With fresh rage he fought against the intrusion, kicking and spitting.
When Carraig finally wrestled his friend to the ground, they rolled away from the ledge, landing in an exhausted heap against the dwindling fire. Orange embers scattered over their heads, igniting the anger in Rith’s heart, and he jumped on top of his friend, pinning him to the ground. With one hand around Carraig’s neck and the other raised over his head, fist clenched, Rith leaned in so close that Carraig could smell his dinner on the words he spat out.
“Why. Did. You. Stop. Me?” He growled into Carraig’s face. “I could have saved her.” Carraig choked and shook beneath him. Rith was angered by the look of fear and disbelief on his friend’s face-his stupid, fat friend that only cared about food and sleeping. What did he know about saving anyone? Rith’s long suppressed grudges boiled up from the dark corners of his soul, demanding their due. In that moment he wanted to pummel Carraig’s face, for all the times he had been stupid, lazy and undeserving. He shook with anger and was ready to put his fist right where it belonged, but a firm hand wrapped itself around his weapon, its fingernails digging into his tough skin, the fresh pain stopping him. The strange mix of painful strength and soft skin against his own confused Rith, drawing his attention from the moment of regrettable sweet vengeance.
Othar’s voice trembled with disbelief for the sense of betrayal she felt towards their friend in that moment, for the sense of betrayal she felt towards the gods and goddesses who had allowed this to happen to them, and for the pain that threatened to drive her into an abyss of despair as well.
“Get off of my Carraig,” she warned. “Or I will push you over that ledge myself!” She squeezed his fist as hard as she could, digging her nails in so deeply that droplets of red blood trickled down his forearm. The glaring truth of Othar’s intent punched Rith squarely in the chest, taking his breath away as Carraig watched from beneath him in stunned silence.
Rith could feel his anger deflating but he clung to it desperately, for it was the only thing that made him feel alive in that moment. He trembled as reason won the battle and he lowered his arm, his fist falling open in defeat. Still seething over his friends’ interference, he aimed his accusations at Othar.
“Why do you defend him? He lets you cook for him and clean up after him, and what does he do for you?!” he shouted. “Does he ever take care of you? Does he carry the wood, or even chop the wood for that matter? No, he does not!” Rith heaved a sigh and looked his friend in the eye piteously. “Do you want to know what he does down in the mines all day, Joy..”
“You are angry Rith, but not about Carraig,” She cut him off. No one knew Carraig as well as she did, warts and all; but he was hers and she loved him. “Get off of him, Rith. Now. No one can do any good if we fight among ourselves this way. It only helps the darkness to defeat us.” Othar cocked her head and whispered. “Listen, Rith. Do you hear those awful screams and moaning? Those are our friends down there. They need us now more than ever. How will we help them if we can’t help each other?”
Rith hadn’t heard anything above the pounding of his heart and the roaring in his head until that moment of truth. One by one the voices carved a place into his awareness. Every anguished cry, every lapping flame and tumbling rock hammered his heart with new pain. He clapped his hands over his ears and shook his head as if he could empty it, the moan coming up from his gut in baleful recognition of their plight.
As if in protest, a fresh new cry pierced the air with its innocent insistence. The familiar sound stopped Rith’s writhing, stilled his anguish and spoke to every cell of his being. In Othar’s arms, the blood of his blood, the flesh of their flesh and the light of Joy’s life, cried out in bitter protest. Rith gasped, snapped back to his senses by the voice of his Joy, somewhere from deep within his heart.
“You are stronger than this. These are our friends. Our daughter needs your strength now, all of you. I will always be with you as was our promise.”
Yet she was not there. There was only dust and fire and ash. And there was death. There was so much death.
“She is still alive, Rith,” came the voice of his long time friend,. Rith looked into the eyes of allegiance from where Carraig had remained silently pinned down. “And I promise we will find her.”
Defeated and suddenly exhausted, Rith got to his feet, wiped his bloodied hand on his pants and leaned over to touch Agra’s screaming face. He kissed her forehead comfortingly and whispered, “Your Mama and Papa love you. Always know it.” He held his hand out to help Carraig up from the ground. Rith put his hands on his friend’s shoulders and kissed his forehead roughly. They embraced and no more words passed between them. None were needed.
Tears streamed down Othar’s face. Tears of pain and joy. Joy. She feared for her friend’s life but dared not speak of it in the days that followed. Those days had been for burying the dead and rebuilding their lives.
Now Othar stood on the edge of the cliff overlooking the valley that lay between the Valley of Caves and the vast plains that would take Rith into the Black Mountains.
A chubby pink hand tugged at her skirt. “Can you see him, Mama Othar? Can you see my Papa?”
Othar shielded her eyes against the glare of the rising sun and imagined she could see the small band of travelers inching their way towards their destiny. She put her arm around Agra’s tiny shoulders and pulled her close.
“No, child, because they are getting close to the mountains now. Soon your Papa will find your mother and…” she choked back the tears. “and my dear Carraig. Then they will all return home.” The cheerfulness in her voice did not betray her sense of foreboding. Othar knelt to face the child and brushed the hair from her eyes. “Now won’t that be wonderful?” She smiled away the fear yet again for the sake of innocence and hope.
Agra nodded and pointed at the jagged black horizon. “Is that where my Mama is?” She asked.
“I hope so,” answered the only mother she had truly known. “I hope so..”
to be continued….
I hope you all have a beautiful week. Like this…
More glimpses from the world of Domhan…..
Agean’s eyes flew open wide and he sat bolt upright on the blanket where he been peacefully sleeping. He jumped out of bed and scurried over the floor toward the room where Mama Ella and Saol slept; but he crashed into someone midway there, both of them falling to the floor with a thud and cries of fright. Agean grabbed Saol by the shoulders and held onto her tightly.
“Did you hear that?” he hissed into her ear, fearful of waking Ella. He felt Saol nod. “Did you feel the ground shake?” She nodded again. His eyes were adjusting to the faint light in the room and he could make out the features of Saol’s face, her forehead scrunched in terror. He longed to ease her fear but his own heart pounded so loudly he thought surely she could hear it. They both breathed heavily as they sat, clinging to one another on the bare floor. Had Mama Ella heard it too?
“Should we wake Mama Ella?” Saol asked, wanting nothing more than for her mother to hold her and tell her everything was going to be fine.
“Not yet,” Agean whispered across the darkness. “Let’s wait to see if it comes again. Maybe we were dreaming.”
“Really, Agean? The same dream?” Even in the darkness the boy could see her eyes roll back in her head the way they always did when she thought him being foolish.
“Agean? Is that you out of bed?” Ella called from the other room. “Is Saol out there with you? She isn’t in her bed.”
“Yes, Mama Ella, I’m here,” she answered. “Agean..he just had a bad dream and I was helping him to right himself. He’s going back to sleep now, though.”
“I can’t sleep until I go outside and look into the sky,” Agean whispered back at Saol through the darkness. “I need to see that nothing is coming.” Agean got to his feet and rushed out through the door before Saol could grab him.
“Agean!” she whispered commandingly. “Come back here!” Saol knew it was no use with that boy. He was so strong willed. She got up and tiptoed quietly after him, casting a furtive glance at the room where Mama Ella was still in bed and, hopefully, already back to sleep. She hurried down the steps and stepped onto the soft, cool dirt, immediately searching for Agean. At first she couldn’t find him in the dark; but her eyes adjusted quickly and she spotted him standing a stone’s throw away, right in the middle of the path. His hands hung limply at his sides and he stared up at the half moon. She followed slowly up the path and as she approached from behind, something glinted in the half-light, dangling precariously from Agean’s right hand.
“What are you doing Agean? And what have you got there?” He lifted the precious treasure to look at it as he turned to face his friend.
“I miss her, Saol. Na. I miss her so much.” Even in the dim moonlight Saol saw the tears glistening in the boy’s eyes. There was nothing she could do for him to ease this kind of loneliness although she understood it well. Her Father was far away from her too. Saol wrapped her arm around his shoulders and gave him a quick hug. Agean leaned in and rested his head on her shoulder. Even in so short a time, Agean had grown as tall as Saol and she could see his father’s determination shining in the boy’s eyes. “I just got to meet my Father, and now he is far away again.” He looked down at the crystal in his hand and held it up in the pale light, the moon’s glow reflecting off each perfectly cut edge. Grandmother Moon’s whispers coaxed twinkling shards of light to dance over the dark earth ahead of them. They both gasped in excitement and Saol tugged Agean by the arm, pulling him off the path and behind an old tree.
“We shouldn’t be out here, Agean. If Mama Ella wakes and finds us gone, we won’t be allowed to go with La Palabra in the morning. She will make us stay and work with her all day.”
Agean didn’t care about the new day. He was curious about the stone his mother had given him. He had watched her so many times turning her own crystal, gazing into it and bringing it to life. She didn’t know he watched. She thought he was sound asleep and he had become quite good at the sleeping game, although sometimes he did fall asleep waiting for something miraculous to happen.
“Maybe she is looking for me right now, Saol. Maybe I can see her in the stone.” Saol shook her head so hard he could feel it even if he couldn’t see her face clearly.
“You know what Palabra says about summoning the visions. We musn’t practice these things. We don’t know what windows we might open for things that do not come from the Light of Eternity. There are many eyes watching in the night, Agean. Let’s go back inside and sleep.” This time Agean saw her blue eyes shining earnestly across the space between them. He could not resist their pleading.
“Oh, alright,” he relented and hung the cord with the crystal around his neck. He grabbed her hand and they emerged from behind the tree and started back up the path to the hut. “Do you think they are in the Black Mountains yet, Saol?”
“I don’t know Agean, but I hope they get there soon-and I wish they never would get there.” Her eyes were wide with confusion but he understood her mixed emotions completely. Both children worried for their loved ones and their friends. They climbed the steps and tiptoed into Agean’s room, where Saol tucked her young friend into bed, kissed his curly head and whispered in his ear. “Remember what she told you. Na is always with you, so be comforted by her love.” She tapped his forehead gently. “And no more bad dreams.”
Agean clutched the crystal to his chest and retorted obstinately, “It was no dream. I heard the thunder of Domhan Eile.” Saol gasped.
“What do you know of such things?” She put a finger to his lips. “Don’t speak of that dark god or you may encourage him to pay us a visit!” Agean pushed it away. He wasn’t afraid of anything his mother wasn’t afraid of. So young and trusting, he had no way of knowing the things she kept secreted in her soul. “My mother and father aren’t afraid. They’ll bring back the Mother of Domhan. And her son too.”
“We all pray so, Agean. We all pray so.” Saol left him and slipped quietly into her room where Ella breathed softly, unaware of the children’s brief absence. It frightened the girl to think how easily they stayed away without Mama Ella even knowing. She vowed to keep a closer watch over her friend. He was so impulsive.
The children fell asleep sharing the same dream. They stood in the middle of the village, hand in hand, as the sun rose up over the dark horizon. Against the pink background of dawn the riders first appeared as tiny specks, growing larger and larger as the sun crept higher and higher. When they became life sized the sun fully illuminated the faces of the Hunter, the Warrior and the Sorceress, returning home at last…
For those of you following, this is a small piece of my ever evolving story. If you are interested in past segments just type Forever Never in the search bar. Happy mid week!
I wanted t share just a bit from the novel. For those of you who have followed my tale since its inception in 2012, this will not be unfamiliar. For those who have read recent excerpts, this will hopefully make sense. Anyone who is reading for the first time can get some background by visiting past posts under the Forever Never category.
In this segment, others are awakened to the call for returning the rightful keeper of Domhan to her place in their world. From every corner, they will rise and make the journey to the Black Mountains, a journey into the heart and mind of darkness, for every one has been touched in some way by its selfish hand…
More Than This!
From the Land of Caves
Against the sky he shook his fist.
“By Eternity’s Light, we are more than this!”
He was stout, though leaner than most in his village, and his triangular face was etched with lines too advanced for his time on Domhan. Life had heaped mighty heartache on him in life too soon, making him feel weighed down and clumsy. His steps were slower, his eyes dull, and rarely a smile found his lips. He who once kept the village alive with laughter had grown morose and introverted, leaving his friends to avoid him most of the time. What they didn’t know was that the heart of his exuberance had always been his companion-she was his life, his comfort, his Joy. Since that dark night of nights when ashes flew and flames streaked the skies, his reason for living vanished in the clutches of the fire breather while he gaped, horrified, as they disappeared over the mountains and into oblivion. He was left alone to care for their newborn treasure, and he a simple rock cutter.
Now he looked up from the mess on his bed where all that he owned lay in a disorganized heap. He needed a moment to steal a glance at the tiny girl standing in the entrance to his cave, her face a mixture of loving adoration and knowing sorrow. A gentle smile moved across his lips in spite of himself. The child was so beautiful, and the look in her eyes-the Joy of her-brought him both comfort and agony at once.
She clung tightly to the rotund female beside her, her pink fists tugging on the skirt she hid behind as she sucked a chubby thumb. He frowned and she pulled it from her mouth, remembering how it made him angry when she reverted to that infant comfort. None but he would dare chastise her or steal such a small comfort. The rest of the village pitied the poor girl, losing her mother so tragically. Of course she knew no difference, having been raised by his best friend’s dear Othar, a gift herself sent straight from heart of the Realm, to be certain. Not only did she care for his motherless child since she was but a suckling, but she was loving and kind to his most unruly, unkempt, haphazard, well-intentioned best friend Carraig. Carraig, who never got enough to eat, Carraig whose bodily noises rivaled a thunderstorm, Carraig who would die for the world he was born to serve. And he might well have already done that by going off with the heartbroken son of M’na. At first Rith was furious with Amhain for accepting Carraig’s offer, but he didn’t have the heart to deny the young male. Rith’s allegiance to the Light Ones of Domhan was still intact, although he had conflicting emotions towards the Gods and Goddesses who seemed to have deserted them so long ago.
“Do you really have to do this?” Othar’s soft voice squeaked, but the vastness of the cave carried her simple question circling round its corridors in a chorus. She held her breath, knowing full well it was a futile question. Of course he was going. Rith never did anything frivolously or without careful planning. It just seemed to be so sudden, his decision to head toward those cursed black mountains.
Rith put his hands on the bed and lowered his head, searching for the right words, but there were none that would ease the pain of truth.
“My Joy was ripped from my arms by that..” he began, but stopped when he saw the terrified but inquisitive look in his child’s eyes. Othar pried Agra’s hands loose from her skirt and shooed her down the steps.
“Go, play with the others now. We’ll be down in a little while.” The child obeyed, but not without several furtive glances back toward the dark figure shadowed by the firelight flickering from the cave entrance. She felt confused and unsettled in a way that she had only a vague memory of, like a long ago dream. Something felt wrong and her stomach rolled over.
“Hi Agra! We’re playing hoop ball. Want to play too?” One of the children in the village urged her from her discomforting thoughts, and Agra left her sorrows in the dirt as the tiny doll she had been clutching slipped through her fingers onto the ground. She was told that her first mother-the one who was taken away-made it for her on the day she was born. It was nothing you could play with really, but she liked the color of its skin, made from soft vine cloth; and it was comforting to keep it in her skirt pocket. Agra had no true memory of that mother but thought she must have been very special if her father could not forget about their life together. Still, it broke her heart that he could not find enough joy in just being with Agra, playing with her and seeing her. What she didn’t know was that he truly did see her and that the very Joy in her face was what kept him from allowing himself to be comforted by her presence. The girl hastily bent to pick up the tiny treasure and stuff it back into her pocket, where it belonged. It was the least she could do for her father. With one last look up at the cave she ran to join the other children.
“How can I explain what I sense, Othar? I never wanted Carraig to go with that sorrow crazed son of M’na. I thought the boy just needed to accept what Eternity had taken from him, although anyone could understand his bitterness. In one night he was completely abandoned but for a brother who was very likely eaten by a talking wolf.” Rith shook his head, still unable to grasp the story as it had been told. “Now, though, I am seeing through new eyes. I look at Agra and think Amhain’s parents must be so proud of him for being brave and for not giving up as I did. I always thought Carraig to be lazy of mind and weak of body, his thoughts always on food and sleep.” Rith looked sorrowfully at Carraig’s most beloved. “I’m sorry, Othar, I shouldn’t..”
She shook her head and waved her hand at Rith, unable to speak for the lump of sorrow stuck in her throat. Rith was right, of course. Carraig was lazy, though he always went into the mines with the others, always stayed from sunrise to sunset, and always returned to her for a hearty meal which he gratefully devoured. He was unruly, unkempt and sometimes unclean, but he loved her. And she loved him. He also loved his best friend Rith, almost as much as her she guessed. It was that love which sent him off with the first son of Domhan on a wild quest to find his mother. The boy was certain the mother of Domhan was still alive, for how could she not be? She was created as an immmortal, the Keeper of Inion’s world, and yet where had she gone? On the night of the Devastation, she disappeared without a trace and no word had been heard since. The boy insisted he could feel her and often heard her voice as he drifted out of morning’s slumber, but he had not seen her in all these years.
“I should have gone with them, Othar. He is doing this for me, you know.” He began stuffing things into a leather bag and Othar moved silently beside him, gently taking the things out and folding his clothes.
“They will fit better if you do it this way,” she urged. Rith stopped, looked at Carraig’s companion and felt a twinge of affection for her himself. She wasn’t his Joy, but she was a good companion and had been more than a mother to his daughter. It seemed tragic that she and Carraig had not had a child of their own since Creation was awakened for them all. A tuft of wiry hair sprung from her bun and he reached up to tuck it back in. She recoiled a bit, then smiled nervously, fixing it herself before returning to the packing.
“I..I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be bold. Othar, I want to thank you..” Rith began, but she turned quickly to face him and put a finger to her lips. She looked him straight in the eyes, her face soft and glowing in the firelight.
“I know the affection you feel for me as Carraig’s best friend, and as the mother to your Agra since Joy left us.” Her voiced choked and she lowered her head for a moment. She wiped an escaped tear and looked at Carraig’s friend again. “Joy was my best friend. No one knows the loss I feel every day in her being gone. But having Agra to care for has eased the loss I felt. Carraig has been like another father to her as well. She loves you both. I miss him every moment of every sunrise to sunset.” Othar smoothed her skirt and tucked the tunic in where it was puffing out over the edges. “I am not a pretty one, like some of the others, even Joy. My gifts are in what I can do for others. Having Carraig to love me for my stews and my ability to love him in spite of his imperfect ways has been a gift from the Realm.”
Rith touched her arm and she did not pull away. “Everyone can see your beauty, Othar. Your devotion to Carraig is as plain as daylight, and someone who will care for her best friend’s child as her own on top of that has more beauty than the brightest bloom in Foirfeachta.
“Oooh, have you been to Foirfeachta, Rith?” He shook his head and they both laughed.
“No, but to hear the Sorceress and Warrior describe it, I feel I have been there. You can see it in young Amhain’s eyes too..” His voice trailed off.
“Well, you best be getting on with it if you are to make the next valley by sunset,” the words spilled from Othar’s mouth as a directive. “Agra will be fine here. You just go and find Carraig.” She stopped, bowed her head and closed her eyes, fresh tears spilling over her cheeks. Othar reached over and grabbed Rith’s hand. “Who knows? Perhaps you will find Joy also.” She squeezed his hand then released it again.
Rith turned away abruptly and walked to the cave entrance. The wind slapped his face and he crossed his arms, rubbing them to warm his skin. In the pink and orange glow of a new sunrise he watched his daughter playing with the other children of his village, so carefree. Something in him stirred, fueling a resentment that had lain dormant for too long. Agra deserved her mother, her true mother. Othar deserved to have her happiness back. And Domhan needed its Mother more than anything else. If M’na returned to the Garden-or what might remain there-she could stop the cruel hand of darkness that stretched its gray fingers over their world.
Rith turned back to look at Othar who watched him intently. He nodded and faced the horizon once more. As the sun peered magnificently over the edge of the unknown, its glow illuminated his hardened face. He raised his hand to the new dawn, the dirt stains from hard work glaring at him in the morning light. He made a fist and thrust it towards the face of opportunity.
“I am Rith of the Caves! And I am more than this!”
to be continued…
Words and images copyright Cheryl KP 2019
Another bit of my work in progress….
Words and images copyright CherylKP 2019
Paradise in Ashes
In the Mists of Dreams
M’na’s heart thudded inside her chest as she made her way through the forest. How could she have known Amhain would be deceived so cruelly and have his brother stolen from his arms? Her empty stomach jumped and rolled as though it might climb up her throat. She trembled as raw anger screamed louder than her fears, the culmination of all the horrors they had suffered in so short a time. She could not, would not, be defeated this way.
“A’rtine!” she called out hoarsely, the smoke and tears clogging her throat. The Mother of Domhan took a deep breath, the stark image of her infant son as a helpless captive of the Dark god looming in her mind. She steeled herslef to try again. Hot blood quickened her pulse, her breaths came in short gasps, and the fire in her soul fueled her resolve. She yelled again, this time sending her voice into the madness with a fury. “Artine, you damnable soul! Where are you, Ar’tine?” M’na knew he was responsible for the living nightmare they were in, that he beguiled her son and took her newborn child from the trusting child. How that poor boy must be suffering with guilt.
“You can’t worry about that now,” she mumbled to herself. M’na turned in circles, her mind racing as she scanned the smoke filled landscape for signs of life. She decided she would have to entice him out of his dark corner-but how? Though her mind was muddied with fear and her body wracked with pain, she knew her child’s life might depend on her outwitting the most shadowed soul in the Realm. M’na closed her eyes, took several slow, deep breaths and steadied her voice, focusing on sounding not just reasonable, but appealing.
“Artine, I..I know you are here. This is your handiwork, and I also know you would not want to miss a chance to..” She swallowed the bile working its way into her throat, along with any pride she had left. “You must be eager to see how successful your efforts were. I confess your creation reflects your supreme power.” M’na waited, hands pressed to her pounding temples, for any sign of his presence; but only the roaring fires that ravaged her homeland echoed back. Thunder rolled as wild jags of lightening cracked across the smoke filled skies. M’na was perched on the precipice of desperation, with her newborn child in danger and their perfect world crumbling around them.
“Why do you hide if you are not ashamed?” M’na tried a new tack with the vengeful son of Eternity. “Surely you aren’t afraid of a helpless female like me? Why do you hide in the shadows when you could torture me with your words?” M’na, always the clever one, kept the pretense up, driven by fear and necessity, taunting the dark one into the blazing light of his own making. Light was her only advantage, being the one place he was vulnerable.
“Son of Mac! I demand that you show yourself and answer to me!” She waited. A deathly silence descended like a blanket across the madness, enveloping her. She knew with every moment that passed her newborn could be taking his last breath and she grew impatient. Fear gave way to outrage as she bellowed, “Damn you, Ar’tine! What have you done with my SON?!”
Her world responded with awed silence, its Mother in peril, and waited for her next move. Her soft jaw went rigid, her arms hung limply at her sides, and her fists clenched and unclenched. She was finished being soft, easy, and loving. “Return him to me..now!.” She waited. Did she hear a muffled whimper? Oh, dear Mother, could that be Dochais? M’na’s heart caught in her throat, but now more ever she knew she had to be stronger than fear. She had to be stronger than the heart of darkness.
“He is of no use to you, and not even a boy yet. He’s..he’s so small…” M’na cupped her hand over her mouth to stifle a sob. She wouldn’t weep before him, she couldn’t sound weak, and refused to beg, knowing he would only hunger for more pain. “What danger is an infant to you?” She lied, knowing more than anyone else how much power the infant was born with, knew the power he held within his soul, and understood the hope that the Realm had with his birth on Domhan.
She held back the tears, refusing to be vulnerable before the bitter god, unwilling to quench his thirst for suffering. M’na hung her head, the weight of fear and sorrow pressing down on her heart and soul, and wept silently. In those quiet moments she heard it, at first nothing but a soft rustling, like the gentle flutter of leaves blowing across a dirt path. She cocked her head to the side, straining to hear more, and wondered if she was losing her mind. Long moments slid by and she was about to call again when the sound returned, coming from somewhere above. She peered up into the darkness, mesmerized by the glowing embers that glimmered as they drifted slowly to the ground around her, the sound floating down with them. Something about it all made her stomach turn. M’na covered her eyes, shielding them from the ash and ember as she gazed up into the unknown.
There was something vaguely familiar about this place and this particular tree, although the entire forest was turning to ash so quickly she would have become easily lost. The tree, the seat of the hissing sound, seemed to be calling to her from some distant place. Its skin glistened in the light of the fires that blazed around them and M’na’s mind groped for the memory. Its bark was scorched and faded, with bits flaking off and striking her upturned face. She didn’t try to deflect them, feeling they were somehow purging her soul.
As she squinted into the dim, gray light she could make out a dark form that moved slowly down and around and down and around.. It shimmered in the pale light as it circled the tree trunk, winding closer and closer to the ground. The Mother of Domhan gasped as the dawning of what glistened in the darkness reached her numbed brain. She gaped in horror as the flame and fury of A’rtine’s madness was reflected back at her from the slick skin of the largest, darkest serpent she had ever seen. Nothing like it existed on Domhan, and she had seen every living creature that lived on her world. M’na stumbled back a few steps, her body subconsciously telling her to run while her mind forced her to stifle the scream that longed to escape from her lips. The serpent stretched downward, its body as long as the Tree of Creation was tall, and coiled around it so that the bare branches seemed like arms reaching to the heavens for salvation. M’na knew where they were now, but nothing in the place even remotely resembled her memory of the peaceful Garden where she first tasted the fruit of life, where her body had been awakened and she had returned so often for solace. What had happened to the beautiful tree that gave them all such precious gifts?
“What?” Hissed the glistening shadow, “No kisses to smother my face? Is your Mother’s love only for those who slid from within your womb?” A thick black knot unfurled from around the lowest branch of the tree and curled back towards M’na to rest on the end of the branch. The head of the serpent was magnificently, perfectly horrible, as only the god of darkness could have created. The head had two smaller knots on it that she prayed would not open, but it seemed her prayers were going up in flames along with her world. The serpent opened those knots to reveal eyes as black as a starless sky and yet they seemed to tug at her soul like grasping fingers. If only they would have remained so. When the serpent spoke again, its eyes glowed red like the heart of the flame, piercing her soul as though forged from its own fire. It’s slit of a mouth opened and a barbed gray tongue slid forward, nearly touching her face, flicking right in front of her eyes. M’na trembled, her body wanting to fail her.
“This is your world, Mother,” a small voice whispered. M’na averted her eyes to the ground where a single white bloom remained, partly covered in ash but brilliant as the moon in the sky. ‘He has no power here,’ the pure white blossom whispered as a burning ember singed its face, silencing her forever.
The serpent’s tongue made a clicking sound when it spoke, something which annoyed the Mother of Domhan, and was possibly the best thing for her in that moment.
“I..click…have decided…click…I rather like the reptiles of Inion’s creation..click, click.” The tongue instantly withdrew as did the voice of the serpent who continued to lie on the branch, staring at M’na with eyes gleeming. When the god spoke again, his voice boomed above the blaze and crashing destruction, filling the forest with his presence.
M’na trembled uncontrollably, her legs beginning to fail her, as bright red blood flowed in rivulets down the inside of her thighs. The childbirth, the flight into the forest to hide her children, battling the beast with Fireann…all would have buried a lesser human; but she had to finish this and show A’rtine he could not win. She wiped the blood from her thigh and held her hand out to the serpent as she struggled to regain control of her body and not lose her mind.
“Here! Is this what you want? I’ll give you a taste of my blood if it will appease your appetite.” Laughter rolled through the forest around her.
“Perhaps later,” the voice thundered. “But first, would you care for a piece of fruit?” A rustling movement from the branch returned M’na’s attention to the serpent. A thunderous thud filled the air as the back end of its body swatted a withered seed from the dying branch where it lay. The seed, so familiar and yet a mere ghost of what it once hosted, tumbled to the ground. The sound echoed through the trees and thundered in M’na’s head as it rolled over the ground and onto her foot. The weight of the small seed was so immense that she screamed in pain.
“Alas,” hissed the voice. “it would appear..click..that the fruit has all been picked from the tree. You creation lusting humans have sucked the very life from your willing host.” The serpent lifted its body and thumped the tree again, shaking the forest floor as debris fell like rain around them. M’na clung to sanity by a mere thread, her rage building inside.
“What have you done with Dochais? I told you long ago that I would never hate you, and I will never be as you are, no matter what you do to us or…take from me.”
“But you already are, my dear. You sought to kill my beloved As’me, even as you pretended to wish her to live again.”
His words struck M’na in the chest. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, you didn’t know? That trio of Light pushers in the Realm-your god and goddesses-convinced her to sacrifice herself just to save your friends. Yes. Even as the unworthy female, Eagna, screamed to give my daughter new life as her own child, the soul of my As’me conspired with Inion to change the plan, to deceive me!! No longer will we have the reunion we had been promised, never will we be reunited. She was innocent. She longs to please those in the Realm and they are my enemy. There is no love for me there but from As’me. Now she has conspired with them and so has betrayed me as well. And you call them, ‘Mother’. If I suffer, then we all suffer, Mother of Domhan, for still I do not have the love of my creation-my own Daughter, As’me!” He cried out in desperation. He cried..
M’na sensed a shift in his energy, his essence softened slightly as he spoke painfully of the past. “If only you had remained as you did the day you shielded me from Inion on that night so long ago. Championing the dark god that Eternity forgot. If only you had kept your promise. If only Love were truly there for one such as me…”
M’na opened her mouth to speak, her true heart’s desire to console, plead, reassure, and love…anything to reach the dark reflection of Eternity; but A’rtine was mired in his misery.
“No! I have been lied to enough! Now hear me, Daughter of Deception. I must forever live without my creation, without love. And now it is your turn to share my fate. The infant is gone. You will never see him again. And soon, I will be rid of your first born as well.”
M’na needed more time. She had to stall him and reach Amhain before A’rtine kept his vow.
‘Show no fear, M’na,’ her inner voice urged. ‘He mustn’t sense fear in you.’
“You are right, A’rtine. We all failed you. I failed in my promise to you, made so long ago now. But I never forgot it. All that has happened is my fault, and not anyone else. I thought I was helping, protecting Domhan, but I made a mistake. Just give Dochais to me and I will leave him with his Father. Then I will go with you. I will do all that I can to make this up to you. Together..we can bring As’me back.” Silence. Did that mean he was considering her offer? In her uncertainty she plodded onward, tangling the threads of deception like a noose around her own neck. “I want to see your world, what you created. A’rtine, I would do anything for..”
The serpent rose from its perch and struck at M’na viciously, its fangs slicing the air within a breath of her cheek, sending her stumbling back and onto the ground with a thud. She coughed through a cloud of black ash that rose around her face but never stopped glaring at her attacker who was now nose to nose with her. Anyone watching the scene would have thought them similar in ferocity. The serpent’s tongue flicked at its prey and M’na refused to flinch when it touched her skin.
“You would do anything to save your sons,” A’rtine hissed vehemently. “This is not about your love for me, M’na. No one in the Realm or on your world loves me.” The serpent’s eyes glowed like embers and flashed with every word its master spoke. If the god was as unlovable as he claimed, he did nothing in that moment to change the situation. “But I don’t need your love. I just need the power over you. I need to see you as empty as I am now.”
M’na’s right hand bled where it pressed into the jagged edge of a broken branch, a severed limb knocked brutally from the Tree of Creation by Damanta’s fury. Her fingers slowly wrapped around the rough wood, her grip so tight that her knuckles turned white. With eyes locked on those of the serpent, she rose slowly, moving only those muscles necessary, yet graceful as ever.
‘She is so lovely’, thought the Dark One, recalling how she tempted him from the first time he watched her through the glistening mists over his lake of sorrows on Domhan Eile. She once moved across her world with breathtaking grace, powerfully beautiful yet inexplicably delicate. The serpent’s body uncoiled from its perch and loosed its grip on the tree, never breaking eye contact with M’na, completely mesmerized by her gentle brown eyes.
The pitiable creature never saw the branch in her hand, never noticed the slight smirk playing at the corners of her mouth, and had no time to recoil as she effectively brought the limb forcefully down on its head. It fell to the ground hard, casting the Essence of Artine out of its body, leaving the god momentarily confused. M’na gasped, trying to catch her breath and recover. After a few seconds she heard a crackling sound, the air turn cold and wet, and she knew it was time to flee the Garden, hoping he would have no power over her once she left it behind. Her mind urged her onward as she struggled to find that familiar place of retreat when something flew over her head. M’na’s heart skipped several beats, fearing the worst.
“He has no power over you anywhere!” the agitated voice startled M’na. When she turned back for a quick look, a huge white owl dove at the serpent, her sharp talons flexed, and dug them into its eyes, putting out the flame of life within. M’na found the strength to keep running and did not look back again, knowing the goddess mother was with her. As she passed beneath the broken, fading arch that once marked the perfection of Creation’s Garden, her mother’s voice carried over the terrifying din of the forest. “Conceal yourself from him, daughter! While you still have time!”
Conceal myself? M’na’s mind raced with her feet, but her head was pounding each time a foot hit the ground. The sky above exploded with real thunder, heralding the storm of all storms. Streaks of wild lightening spat across the black canopy. With only her family in mind she raced towards an unknown end. All that existed in those moments were the sounds..the panting, the thumping of foot to ground, her heart beat, the heavy breaths..conceal myself.
“You cannot hide from me.” The voice seemed inside her head though she could feel hot breath on her neck as suddenly racing at her side was the wolf. It was the same wolf who had taken her child- it had to be! Where was Dochais now? The wolf had nothing in its mouth but a thick, red tongue.
M’na held out hope her infant was safe, while her thoughts turned to her firstborn son and beloved Fireann. She feared for her companion, for how could he hold off the fiery beast for so long by himself? Though she pulled a few paces ahead, the breath of the wolf was hot against her legs, its hunger enveloping her. It snarled and drooled, tempted by the smell of blood on her skin. Ahead of her on the path was a fallen tree, blazing from the kiss of the beast.
‘I can’t stop,’ she thought frantically. ‘Not now.’ A cold gust of air hit M’na in the face, her body vibrating with unexpected energy, the burst that she needed to push on. She leapt!
Her mind was clear and strong, her body suddenly without pain as she bounded over the blazing obstacle, as though borne on the wind. She heard a painful yelp as the wolf brazenly leapt into the wall of burning wood behind her, only to be slammed to the ground. Feeling victorious, M’na kept running, her body more agile, fresh hope rising from her heart. She blinked, unbelieving, as the clearing to their home came into plain view. The Mother of Domhan breathed more easily as she ran on, the wind whipping through her hair, her senses heightened. Suddenly she could see it all clearly-home, or what remained of home. Yes! There was someone there; but the beast was, thankfully, gone. She slowed as she drew closer, almost able to make out details in the failing light.
As she slowed to a halt, her head seemed to split in two. Then he was inside it, his mind mingled with hers. How could he molest her now, when she was so close to her joy? Cruelly, like a sharpened axe, his words sliced into her heart and echoed throughout the hallows of her soul.
“Finally returned to your beloved Fireann. Alas, my dear, he was not equally matched for a fight with my pet. Such a pity you will never lie with him again.” M’na’s heart crumbled in her chest as A’rtine taunted. “You know you cannot hide from me, any more than the moon can hide from the night.”
M’na forced herself to look at the clearing where there were not one, but two figures. Her soul wailed to see her beloved Fireann lying in the wet ashes-broken, blood stained and still as stone. His firstborn son knelt over him, gently stroking his Father’s hair and lovingly rubbing his lifeless chest. Young Amhain’s head was bent, his body shaking in the darkest of sorrows. The weight crushed M’na’s heart, stealing her breath, and the light was snuffed as she fell into the arms of darkness…
to be continued….
Prime my subconscious, one hint at a time
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Analysis & Discussion For Political Uncertainty
Fun and Healthy!
Empowering others to help themselves because only YOU can save YOU.
"I tramp the perpetual journey." Walt Whitman