Alisaura
Blue Crack Supplier
I hope we're up to 23... I really need to double-check these things before I click "New Topic"! Anyway, we're nearly at the halfway mark... Thanks everyone for sticking with this so far. 
Disclaimer: This is a work of purest fiction... Harmless fun and all that.
end of chapter 22:
-----------
Time passed, and Glen asked me at some point if I wanted to pursue some sort of legal action against Ed, but that was almost as ridiculous as any of the rest of it. And besides, I really didn't want to know once and for all whether or not it had all been an elaborate deception. Deep down, I couldn't quite believe it had been... but I also couldn't ignore the possibility. It made an awful, prickly sensation in my guts every time I thought of it, which I was trying to do as little as possible. All I wanted was to forget it had ever happened, and get on with my life.
So far, so good.
-----------
Chapter 23:
-----------
After the men had left for the quarries again, Moryn's mate, Gwenna, came to visit me. I had moved into Eleri's hut some time after her death, although I spent some time with Alun too. Ewain spent the night with me often enough, as well.
It was evening, and the village was settling down for the night. At Gwenna's call, I invited her in, and we sat by the hearth. I made tea for us both. I had been dreading a moment like this, but remained outwardly calm. Gwenna's face was ravaged by grief.
"The whole village mourns with you," I said. "Moryn is missed by all."
"None more than I, and their sympathy will not bring back the father of my children," she said, voice hoarse.
"Nothing can do that," I said, bleakly recalling Eleri's death, and that of my little son.
Gwenna's voice was a trifle softer when she spoke again. "I know that." Our eyes met in a moment of recognition, but hers slid quickly away. "Tell me what happened," she said at length.
"Fenwyn must have told you," I said gently. I had no wish to relive that scene, but I could see that Gwenna needed to understand why her mate had died.
"He told me what Ewain told him. And what you told him. I want to hear it from you."
"It was as he told you. The spirit of Fire in the stone recognised the Fire in Moryn, and honoured him. You and your children are truly blessed. Moryn's spirit will help to make the circle more powerful, and that will benefit all of us. We all feel your loss deeply, but his death was not without meaning."
"Why must we raise stones in the circle, though? Were the spirits not happy with things as they were?"
"You saw last year's harvest; and then it was a hard winter. One late frost and things could have been a lot worse. Would you wait until people starve before appeasing the spirits?"
"But the Earth always provides..."
"Not always," I countered. "There have been times, many years ago, when the harvest has failed, and people have died. Whole villages lost. At other times, there have been floods or fires, with the same result. If the spirits of Earth here are weakening, or are unhappy, it is in our best interests to strengthen them, to do more honour to them. Sometimes what is required causes sorrow, directly or indirectly," I said, sympathy in my eyes. "But Moryn's was a worthy spirit, he was chosen."
"I hear Ewain's words in your mouth," Gwenna said, her face hardening.
"Or perhaps you have heard mine in his," I replied coolly.
"He is of Fire, but not like Moryn. He burns more fiercely. Why could Ewain not have been chosen?"
"If the spirits had wanted him, he would have been," I said, trying to maintain a soothing tone. "I don't know why Moryn was chosen – perhaps a Ritemaster of Fire would. But he was chosen, so he was worthy. He has been returned to the Earth, as we all are."
I could see Gwenna struggling to believe me, because she wanted to; but she and Moryn had been much closer than Alun and I were. She shook her head. "It should have been Ewain! He's a stranger, he's the one who wanted to raise the stones..."
"Gwenna," I said, reaching out to the older woman, resting a hand on her shoulder. "I know it hurts. But there's no sense in trying to blame anyone. We can perform rites, make sacrifices, and raise stones; but in the end, our lives are at the mercy of the elements. People are taken as the spirits see fit, whether they are little babies, grown men, or old women."
Several emotions seemed to conflict on Gwenna's face, and I got up to embrace her as she finally crumpled into sobs.
I stared into the darkness with my heart pounding, listening to Glen's intermittent snores.
"No," I said, pointlessly. The queasy knot of realisation was already tightening in my guts. "No, no, no!" I rolled over and muffled my groan of dismay into the pillow. It was over! It had been over. I was away from that place. Glen and I were okay again. I'd started to put it all behind me.
I rolled back onto my back and scowled at the ceiling. I wasn't going to let it affect me, I decided. They were just stupid dreams, they had no relevance to my life, there was no reason to pay them any more attention than I did the other dreams I'd had throughout my life.
Except that they refused to fade away like other dreams. The details remained burned on the inside of my head.
Glen was still asleep. I wouldn't tell him about this. Why should I? Just another dream.
Still, I only slept fitfully for the rest of the night.
I still had a week or so to go until I started this core-logging job, but never before had I been so unhappy to have time on my hands. Too much time to think. Too much time to find myself doing internet searches about dream interpretation and ancient Celts and stone circles.
Dream interpretation websites were largely unsatisfying, although I had no idea what I was hoping to get out of them. Some alternative to the obvious, face-value appearance of the dreams, perhaps. None seemed to offer interpretations of recurring dreams about stone circles, and most were concerned with either Freud, Jung, or prophetic dreams. I wanted the opposite. It would have been a relief to find out that dreams like mine really meant that I had indigestion, or was unconsciously concerned about my cousin's pet budgerigar, but I had no luck on that score.
One site quoted a saying which jumped out at me, however – "Only a fool takes the words of others over his own experience". We were back to that again.
----------------------------
"So come on, what was all that about the other day?"
"Look, I'm sorry about that. It was nothing, really."
"You don't have to apologise, but I'm not sure that it was nothing. You've been off with the fairies a lot lately. Is everything all right?"
"Yes, I'm fine."
"Except..."
"Except I'm tired. That's all it is. I've not been sleeping well since..."
"Since you came back from Wales the last time?"
"Something like that."
"So, what happened?"
"... I think it's time I was going home. I'll see you tomorrow."
----------------------------
The core-logging job was located in a temporary-looking set-up on the outskirts of Cardiff, inconveniently located on the opposite side of the city to our house. I made something of an effort to dress up on the first day, but after a day or two I was in jeans and a jumper. The work wasn't challenging, as I'd expected – the main challenge was in keeping myself awake and alert. After a couple of weeks, the novelty of having a regular nine-to-five schedule had worn off, and the endless columns of grey sand- and mudstone (punctuated occasionally by thin layers of coal) began to blur before my eyes. Sitting in more or less the same position all day was starting to make my neck and back hurt, as well.
That dream had not been isolated, either. I wasn't dreaming them every night, but there had been several more. Tension in the village had eased somewhat after the Air and Water stones had each been raised without incident, but Ewain's fervour had grown steadily more intense. He had insisted that because the remaining stones were smaller, that they could be brought in two or three at a time, and more and more of the village's manpower was given over to this task. Half of the inhabitants seemed to share Ewain's passion, and the other half seemed content to go along with it, so long as no one else was killed. Somehow, the crops were still planted and the animals tended. The effort was taking a toll, however.
I still hadn't told Glen that the dreams had started again. I did my best to carry on as normal; I didn't write them down, or allow myself to dwell on them. I was convincing myself that they were ordinary dreams, nothing more.
------
I came home one day with a pounding tension headache, which was only partly relieved by a long shower and a few aspirin. After dinner, I lay on the couch, constantly shifting position, unable to get comfortable. Even the floor held no relief for me. Finally, Glen had had enough.
"Come on, get over here and I'll give you a neck rub," he said.
I was hardly going to refuse. I sat on the floor, back against the couch, while he sat on it behind me and worked his magic on my neck and scalp.
"Good heavens woman, what are they doing to you there? You've knots in your shoulders the size of golf balls."
"Mmm," I replied. "It's probably no worse than you sitting in front of a computer all day."
Glen went on about his work that day, but I was barely listening, thoroughly enjoying my massage. Tension eased from my muscles, and my brain slowed down. I was probably half asleep.
It had always felt peaceful, here.
The silent trees, the ground mossy underfoot, the small sounds and movements of life. Shafts of sunlight hanging in the still air, weaving between the trees. Sunny clearings crowded by undergrowth and saplings. Spring had come again, and I had come here to get away from the village, from the hurrying and bustle, and the slightly fraught feeling that now lay beneath the daily tasks. I really should have been working as well, since so many of the men were away, but I needed some space for myself. By way of an excuse, I'd told myself I would look for more of the special spirit mushrooms that were every Ritemaster's open secret.
But I wasn't looking very hard. I'd sat on a fallen tree in the sun, feeling the warmth on my back, and allowing my mind to go blissfully blank. I dug my toes into the warm soil; I was aware of the Earth, of all the life it was bringing forth and sustaining. There was a different feeling here to that on the hilltop, where the Earth's bones were closer to the surface. Where we were raising stones in the old circle. Where Moryn had died, and where his body lay still. Where the stain of his blood could still faintly be seen on the Fire-stone.
That had disturbed me more than I had let anyone know. I was young for a Ritemaster, but Eleri had taught me this much – there was power in blood, in life. I had wakened the Earth-stone with a little of my own blood, and blood from suitable people had served the same purpose when the stones for Water and Air were raised. But Moryn's whole life had been given to... or taken by the Fire-stone. His body buried at its foot, I could not have said whether his spirit had indeed gone into the Earth of the circle, or was perhaps trapped in the stone that had killed him. The presence of that stain made me uncomfortable every time I went into the circle – and it was not right that a Ritemaster of Earth should feel discomfort in a place sacred to Earth.
I became aware of Ewain's presence mere moments before he spoke behind me. He would be leading the next group of men to the quarries, once the men currently away had returned. Fenwyn led that group, as he was familiar with the journey by now, and with the working of the stone.
"The women are wondering where you are," Ewain said, climbing onto the log to sit beside me. His arm circled my waist, but for once I was unresponsive. "Lenya's baby is coming."
I opened my mouth to say that the birthing-woman could take care of that, but then I remembered that Hali was sick with a fever. I should check on her, too, I thought.
"What were you doing here?" Ewain asked as I stood up.
"Looking for medicine plants," I said.
"Mushrooms grow in the shade, you know," he said conversationally.
I paused, studying him. "You were an acolyte," I decided.
"I was."
I was a little surprised by the admission. "Why, then, are you not now a Ritemaster in your home village?"
An odd expression crossed Ewain's face – part smile, part grimace. "It seems my life was not meant to take that path," he said, shrugging the matter off. "And as far as I know, the Ritemaster who was teaching me still lives. He has no doubt taken another acolyte by now."
I looked at Ewain, wondering what he wasn't telling me. One does not simply walk away from such things. I might have made him explain himself then and there, but I had a duty to Lenya and her baby.
"Who's Lenya, then?" A soft, curious voice over my head. The springtime forest faded into our dim lounge room. I froze, every muscle tense again.
"Aw, what's this? I sit here and knead you for half an hour, and you're all knotted up again. I could have sworn you'd gone to sleep and all."
I was quietly panicking. Not only had one of the damn dreams crept up on me while I was semi-awake, but with Glen right there... I didn't know what to do or say.
"Lise? Is something wrong?"
Oh hell. It was one thing to not tell Glen I'd been dreaming again, during the night when I was asleep. He'd stopped asking. I had to say something.
"Um, it's nothing, sorry. I must have dozed off and been dreaming." I tried to make my tone casual and offhand, but the D-word must still have been a sensitive one.
"Oh? What about? It wasn't one of those, was it?"
I hesitated for an agonising moment. "It was, actually." I hugged my knees.
Glen gave a deep sigh. "Oh love, I thought they'd gone away."
"I thought so, too," I said tightly, neglecting to mention the previous ones since I'd come home.
Glen reached down and put his arms around my neck, planting a kiss on the top of my head. I hadn't expected him to react like that. I remained tense.
"Was it a bad dream?"
"Not really," I said. "I just... I'd rather not have any at all. I want to just leave all that behind."
"I know. Do you want to tell me what it was about, then?"
"It was nothing much, just Mag in the woods, thinking about Moryn being killed. Then someone came along and told her a woman in the village was having a baby."
"That Lenya?"
"Yeah. Did I say that out loud?" I was a little concerned about that.
"I wasn't sure that was what you'd said, it was only a mumble."
"Hmm."
"I suppose it was silly to think that they'd stop straight away. Maybe your brain is still processing all that stuff."
"Perhaps," I allowed. Who knows? Maybe he was right.
------------------
Disclaimer: This is a work of purest fiction... Harmless fun and all that.
end of chapter 22:
-----------
Time passed, and Glen asked me at some point if I wanted to pursue some sort of legal action against Ed, but that was almost as ridiculous as any of the rest of it. And besides, I really didn't want to know once and for all whether or not it had all been an elaborate deception. Deep down, I couldn't quite believe it had been... but I also couldn't ignore the possibility. It made an awful, prickly sensation in my guts every time I thought of it, which I was trying to do as little as possible. All I wanted was to forget it had ever happened, and get on with my life.
So far, so good.
-----------
Chapter 23:
-----------
After the men had left for the quarries again, Moryn's mate, Gwenna, came to visit me. I had moved into Eleri's hut some time after her death, although I spent some time with Alun too. Ewain spent the night with me often enough, as well.
It was evening, and the village was settling down for the night. At Gwenna's call, I invited her in, and we sat by the hearth. I made tea for us both. I had been dreading a moment like this, but remained outwardly calm. Gwenna's face was ravaged by grief.
"The whole village mourns with you," I said. "Moryn is missed by all."
"None more than I, and their sympathy will not bring back the father of my children," she said, voice hoarse.
"Nothing can do that," I said, bleakly recalling Eleri's death, and that of my little son.
Gwenna's voice was a trifle softer when she spoke again. "I know that." Our eyes met in a moment of recognition, but hers slid quickly away. "Tell me what happened," she said at length.
"Fenwyn must have told you," I said gently. I had no wish to relive that scene, but I could see that Gwenna needed to understand why her mate had died.
"He told me what Ewain told him. And what you told him. I want to hear it from you."
"It was as he told you. The spirit of Fire in the stone recognised the Fire in Moryn, and honoured him. You and your children are truly blessed. Moryn's spirit will help to make the circle more powerful, and that will benefit all of us. We all feel your loss deeply, but his death was not without meaning."
"Why must we raise stones in the circle, though? Were the spirits not happy with things as they were?"
"You saw last year's harvest; and then it was a hard winter. One late frost and things could have been a lot worse. Would you wait until people starve before appeasing the spirits?"
"But the Earth always provides..."
"Not always," I countered. "There have been times, many years ago, when the harvest has failed, and people have died. Whole villages lost. At other times, there have been floods or fires, with the same result. If the spirits of Earth here are weakening, or are unhappy, it is in our best interests to strengthen them, to do more honour to them. Sometimes what is required causes sorrow, directly or indirectly," I said, sympathy in my eyes. "But Moryn's was a worthy spirit, he was chosen."
"I hear Ewain's words in your mouth," Gwenna said, her face hardening.
"Or perhaps you have heard mine in his," I replied coolly.
"He is of Fire, but not like Moryn. He burns more fiercely. Why could Ewain not have been chosen?"
"If the spirits had wanted him, he would have been," I said, trying to maintain a soothing tone. "I don't know why Moryn was chosen – perhaps a Ritemaster of Fire would. But he was chosen, so he was worthy. He has been returned to the Earth, as we all are."
I could see Gwenna struggling to believe me, because she wanted to; but she and Moryn had been much closer than Alun and I were. She shook her head. "It should have been Ewain! He's a stranger, he's the one who wanted to raise the stones..."
"Gwenna," I said, reaching out to the older woman, resting a hand on her shoulder. "I know it hurts. But there's no sense in trying to blame anyone. We can perform rites, make sacrifices, and raise stones; but in the end, our lives are at the mercy of the elements. People are taken as the spirits see fit, whether they are little babies, grown men, or old women."
Several emotions seemed to conflict on Gwenna's face, and I got up to embrace her as she finally crumpled into sobs.
I stared into the darkness with my heart pounding, listening to Glen's intermittent snores.
"No," I said, pointlessly. The queasy knot of realisation was already tightening in my guts. "No, no, no!" I rolled over and muffled my groan of dismay into the pillow. It was over! It had been over. I was away from that place. Glen and I were okay again. I'd started to put it all behind me.
I rolled back onto my back and scowled at the ceiling. I wasn't going to let it affect me, I decided. They were just stupid dreams, they had no relevance to my life, there was no reason to pay them any more attention than I did the other dreams I'd had throughout my life.
Except that they refused to fade away like other dreams. The details remained burned on the inside of my head.
Glen was still asleep. I wouldn't tell him about this. Why should I? Just another dream.
Still, I only slept fitfully for the rest of the night.
I still had a week or so to go until I started this core-logging job, but never before had I been so unhappy to have time on my hands. Too much time to think. Too much time to find myself doing internet searches about dream interpretation and ancient Celts and stone circles.
Dream interpretation websites were largely unsatisfying, although I had no idea what I was hoping to get out of them. Some alternative to the obvious, face-value appearance of the dreams, perhaps. None seemed to offer interpretations of recurring dreams about stone circles, and most were concerned with either Freud, Jung, or prophetic dreams. I wanted the opposite. It would have been a relief to find out that dreams like mine really meant that I had indigestion, or was unconsciously concerned about my cousin's pet budgerigar, but I had no luck on that score.
One site quoted a saying which jumped out at me, however – "Only a fool takes the words of others over his own experience". We were back to that again.
----------------------------
"So come on, what was all that about the other day?"
"Look, I'm sorry about that. It was nothing, really."
"You don't have to apologise, but I'm not sure that it was nothing. You've been off with the fairies a lot lately. Is everything all right?"
"Yes, I'm fine."
"Except..."
"Except I'm tired. That's all it is. I've not been sleeping well since..."
"Since you came back from Wales the last time?"
"Something like that."
"So, what happened?"
"... I think it's time I was going home. I'll see you tomorrow."
----------------------------
The core-logging job was located in a temporary-looking set-up on the outskirts of Cardiff, inconveniently located on the opposite side of the city to our house. I made something of an effort to dress up on the first day, but after a day or two I was in jeans and a jumper. The work wasn't challenging, as I'd expected – the main challenge was in keeping myself awake and alert. After a couple of weeks, the novelty of having a regular nine-to-five schedule had worn off, and the endless columns of grey sand- and mudstone (punctuated occasionally by thin layers of coal) began to blur before my eyes. Sitting in more or less the same position all day was starting to make my neck and back hurt, as well.
That dream had not been isolated, either. I wasn't dreaming them every night, but there had been several more. Tension in the village had eased somewhat after the Air and Water stones had each been raised without incident, but Ewain's fervour had grown steadily more intense. He had insisted that because the remaining stones were smaller, that they could be brought in two or three at a time, and more and more of the village's manpower was given over to this task. Half of the inhabitants seemed to share Ewain's passion, and the other half seemed content to go along with it, so long as no one else was killed. Somehow, the crops were still planted and the animals tended. The effort was taking a toll, however.
I still hadn't told Glen that the dreams had started again. I did my best to carry on as normal; I didn't write them down, or allow myself to dwell on them. I was convincing myself that they were ordinary dreams, nothing more.
------
I came home one day with a pounding tension headache, which was only partly relieved by a long shower and a few aspirin. After dinner, I lay on the couch, constantly shifting position, unable to get comfortable. Even the floor held no relief for me. Finally, Glen had had enough.
"Come on, get over here and I'll give you a neck rub," he said.
I was hardly going to refuse. I sat on the floor, back against the couch, while he sat on it behind me and worked his magic on my neck and scalp.
"Good heavens woman, what are they doing to you there? You've knots in your shoulders the size of golf balls."
"Mmm," I replied. "It's probably no worse than you sitting in front of a computer all day."
Glen went on about his work that day, but I was barely listening, thoroughly enjoying my massage. Tension eased from my muscles, and my brain slowed down. I was probably half asleep.
It had always felt peaceful, here.
The silent trees, the ground mossy underfoot, the small sounds and movements of life. Shafts of sunlight hanging in the still air, weaving between the trees. Sunny clearings crowded by undergrowth and saplings. Spring had come again, and I had come here to get away from the village, from the hurrying and bustle, and the slightly fraught feeling that now lay beneath the daily tasks. I really should have been working as well, since so many of the men were away, but I needed some space for myself. By way of an excuse, I'd told myself I would look for more of the special spirit mushrooms that were every Ritemaster's open secret.
But I wasn't looking very hard. I'd sat on a fallen tree in the sun, feeling the warmth on my back, and allowing my mind to go blissfully blank. I dug my toes into the warm soil; I was aware of the Earth, of all the life it was bringing forth and sustaining. There was a different feeling here to that on the hilltop, where the Earth's bones were closer to the surface. Where we were raising stones in the old circle. Where Moryn had died, and where his body lay still. Where the stain of his blood could still faintly be seen on the Fire-stone.
That had disturbed me more than I had let anyone know. I was young for a Ritemaster, but Eleri had taught me this much – there was power in blood, in life. I had wakened the Earth-stone with a little of my own blood, and blood from suitable people had served the same purpose when the stones for Water and Air were raised. But Moryn's whole life had been given to... or taken by the Fire-stone. His body buried at its foot, I could not have said whether his spirit had indeed gone into the Earth of the circle, or was perhaps trapped in the stone that had killed him. The presence of that stain made me uncomfortable every time I went into the circle – and it was not right that a Ritemaster of Earth should feel discomfort in a place sacred to Earth.
I became aware of Ewain's presence mere moments before he spoke behind me. He would be leading the next group of men to the quarries, once the men currently away had returned. Fenwyn led that group, as he was familiar with the journey by now, and with the working of the stone.
"The women are wondering where you are," Ewain said, climbing onto the log to sit beside me. His arm circled my waist, but for once I was unresponsive. "Lenya's baby is coming."
I opened my mouth to say that the birthing-woman could take care of that, but then I remembered that Hali was sick with a fever. I should check on her, too, I thought.
"What were you doing here?" Ewain asked as I stood up.
"Looking for medicine plants," I said.
"Mushrooms grow in the shade, you know," he said conversationally.
I paused, studying him. "You were an acolyte," I decided.
"I was."
I was a little surprised by the admission. "Why, then, are you not now a Ritemaster in your home village?"
An odd expression crossed Ewain's face – part smile, part grimace. "It seems my life was not meant to take that path," he said, shrugging the matter off. "And as far as I know, the Ritemaster who was teaching me still lives. He has no doubt taken another acolyte by now."
I looked at Ewain, wondering what he wasn't telling me. One does not simply walk away from such things. I might have made him explain himself then and there, but I had a duty to Lenya and her baby.
"Who's Lenya, then?" A soft, curious voice over my head. The springtime forest faded into our dim lounge room. I froze, every muscle tense again.
"Aw, what's this? I sit here and knead you for half an hour, and you're all knotted up again. I could have sworn you'd gone to sleep and all."
I was quietly panicking. Not only had one of the damn dreams crept up on me while I was semi-awake, but with Glen right there... I didn't know what to do or say.
"Lise? Is something wrong?"
Oh hell. It was one thing to not tell Glen I'd been dreaming again, during the night when I was asleep. He'd stopped asking. I had to say something.
"Um, it's nothing, sorry. I must have dozed off and been dreaming." I tried to make my tone casual and offhand, but the D-word must still have been a sensitive one.
"Oh? What about? It wasn't one of those, was it?"
I hesitated for an agonising moment. "It was, actually." I hugged my knees.
Glen gave a deep sigh. "Oh love, I thought they'd gone away."
"I thought so, too," I said tightly, neglecting to mention the previous ones since I'd come home.
Glen reached down and put his arms around my neck, planting a kiss on the top of my head. I hadn't expected him to react like that. I remained tense.
"Was it a bad dream?"
"Not really," I said. "I just... I'd rather not have any at all. I want to just leave all that behind."
"I know. Do you want to tell me what it was about, then?"
"It was nothing much, just Mag in the woods, thinking about Moryn being killed. Then someone came along and told her a woman in the village was having a baby."
"That Lenya?"
"Yeah. Did I say that out loud?" I was a little concerned about that.
"I wasn't sure that was what you'd said, it was only a mumble."
"Hmm."
"I suppose it was silly to think that they'd stop straight away. Maybe your brain is still processing all that stuff."
"Perhaps," I allowed. Who knows? Maybe he was right.
------------------
