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In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Arona eventually woke from her sleep, still tangled in the images from her dreams. Unable to remember these images she was left feeling as though she were adrift in a boat on the ocean, not caring where the wind and waves may take her.
She had no feeling that morning. It was as though a door had closed in her mind, shutting out the part that could feel. She did not know, nor care, whether she was shutting out joy or sorrow, only that some part of her wanted to be alone.
She remembered the words of the older woman who had sat with her and soothed her to sleep. Or was she already asleep? Was the woman a dream?
Use your magic, she had said.
When she was young, in the Village, magic had come easily to Arona. When did it end?. She screwed up her eyes trying to concentrate. It hadn’t ended all at once. Did it start to end with the cloak her parents had given her?
Arona shook her head briskly and thoughts, like leaves in the wind, lifted and fell back to earth again in new formations.
The candle still burned brightly and her attention was drawn to the heavy wooden door, knowing she could not put it off any longer. In her bag of treasures was a key. It had been given to her at the beginning of her 21 st year, as was custom in the Village. It was no surprise to her that it fitted the lock perfectly.
Thank you for having me room, she said as she left.
No, thank YOU, replied the sleepy glukenitch.
The door led directly into another space, larger, brighter. She could sense someone there, but not in solid form. It was a beautiful woman who Arona felt an immediate affinity with, and then a strange sadness came unbidden.
Why sad?
I have no clue answered Arona briskly, quickly shutting the door back on these pesky emotions.
You always know, just feel it
So Arona closed her eyes tightly and allowed herself to feel the answer.
Because you know who you are, and it made me realise I have no idea who I am.
Mmmmmmm, said the woman, maybe you would care to look at my new paintings. Actually they are some of yours.
Intrigued, Arona felt this would be a suitable distraction and she looked with much interest.
The first painting was of a child, in a beautiful meadow of flowers. The child appeared to be completely absorbed, concentrating on a small blue butterfly which had lighted on her finger.
The picture itself moved and changed shape as though it were a portal to another living, breathing world. In the corner of the picture were some other children who seemed to be playing happily together.Arona, who had felt immediately connected with the young child frowned.
Doesn’t the little girl feel left out?
Go in, said the woman, Go inside the picture and feel the answer.
Oh, and you might want to leave your cloak behind.
So Arona did, and she became the child, but also stayed herself, observing the scene. She felt the child’s happy fascination in her connection with the butterfly. Not just the butterfly. She could feel her connected with the earth, and the gentle breezes and the beautiful flowers … The child was deeply contented, absorbed in the moment, moving happily with the flow of her interest.
I remember feeling like that, thought Arona, before the magic went.
She gently drew the child’s attention to the other children and felt the flow of energy between them. The child was so sure of who she was and where she wanted to be, and Arona could feel the loving acceptance of her playmates.
As the child’s attention went to the others, one of the children looked up and came running over. They sat together and laughed at some funny rabbits which had appeared in the meadow. Arona returned to the cave.
You look troubled
Well, Arona felt a little perplexed. It’s all very well playing with butterflies and rabbits in a meadow, but it is not terribly practical.
On the contrary, perhaps it is very practical. Would you like to see another of your paintings?
Suspended gracefully between two posts was a beautiful, glistening spider web. Little drops of rain hung like jewels on a chain. An enormous spider waited patiently in the shadows. As Arona watched a small insect happened at that moment to be caught, and the spider began to creep along the delicate lines.
Arona shuddered a little. I might not jump into that one .
The woman laughed, Use your magic Arona. Weave your magic web and let it all come to you.
Oh you are the second person to tell me to use my magic. An old lady came to me in my dreams, I think.
Well I gave her the same advice, years ago.
More damn riddles, Arona thought to herself, and the woman laughed.
One final painting of yours I would like to show you. It is beautiful is it not?
Arona stared mesmerised for a moment, and then leapt right in.
She sat among an audience, captivated by the dancers on the stage ahead. Beautiful music played and it reminded Arona of the music she had heard earlier. The dancers leapt and twirled and Arona was enraptured.
Dance Arona, she heard the woman’s voice
I can’t dance like that, I’m not good enough.
It doesn’t matter
And Arona could not hold back any longer and entered the body of one of the dancers. She did not know the dance so she made up her own steps, and strangely this seemed to fit perfectly with the other dancers.
Back in the cave the woman seemed to be listening to something Arona did not think she could hear.
Things are shifting she said
Oh lordy, are they said Arona, What should I do now?
Feel the answer
Arona felt. I am very hungry, eggceptionally so.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
The transmugrification was about to start.
Inspired by the improvised tune of Malvina, Leörmn had felt new arrangements coming for the cave.
He had been checking out every living being in the cave, and wanted to make things less complicated for them, without startling them too much. For creatures, that was easy, he could communicate well with them, and they knew the changes would be temporary.
But for humans, let alone gripshawks, that was more difficult as they could play deaf as pleased them.
Hopefully, the gripshawk was in good hands outside the cave, and that was probably better for her, as she would probably have hurt herself more than was necessary in not listening to the exhortations to stay calm.
As for the young adventuress, she was sleeping joyfully, and the little glukenitch that Leörmn had left to her side to keep watch and warn him in case she would be too distressed was silently watching over her.
Írtak was aware that the process was about to begin, as he had been trained by Malvina to listen to the flimsiest changes in the cave, and how his body was responding to these subtle modifications. This one would probably become of great dragon rider, but for now he was young and needed to hone his abilities. His father had been renouncing of telling him what was best and most reasonable for him to do, and allowed him to spend much time in the cave. He was not really interested by these magical things, but he knew they were important for his son, and was encouraging, in his own manner.
As for Malvina, she was unaffected in a way, because she was part of Leörmn as much as he was a part of her, and it was like they were moving hand in hand. These hiding and seeking the eggs were like a playful game between them, because their interests were different, but all in all, they were one, and trusted each other completely.
The more troublesome was perhaps Sanso, the wanderer. This one seemed trapped in between Worlds. The caves at times also acted as portals between Worlds, and this one had been unknowingly crossing the Worlds, as the delimitations between imagination and reality were only in words, and did not really exist. Leörmn was hoping he would not appear in the midst of the ruckus.
So, on one of the wooden decks near the apartments of Malvina, he sat, overlooking the glowing eggs, and bathing into the music.
Closing his eyes, he felt every part of the cave as if it were an extension of his own body, which was in fact much bigger than this current appearance, so big in fact that it was the World itself. And every creature breathing in it was a very cherished part of his body, and he slowly breathed in and out.
He envisioned a great light pouring from the volcanic insides of the cavern, which inundated the cave in a misty warmth. It was a loving light that neither glukenitches nor schpurniatz feared. And the sinuous insides of the caves expanded and straightened in huge corridors, and doors disappeared, and gorgeous paintings from the mind and craft of Malvina decorated the walls in rich colours.
And near the platform, inside the hall, a huge table sprung from the floor, for the banquet that was to come.
And a new egg was laid somewhere in the cave, glowing of an emerald tint.
This “one” was a bit different though…
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Dory drifted off to sleep, despite the sounds of the conversations going on all around her in the next rooms. She dreamed of camels and a washing machine that wouldn’t spin with a full load, and then it turned into one of those teeth falling out and rushing to the dentist dreams, and then strangest of all, she woke up with a dream snapshot image of a perfect heart shaped….well it looked like a heart shaped dog turd!
“BUGGER THIS” Dory woke up with a start. Someone in the room on the right had turned the music up and was singing ‘Bugger this’ to all the tunes.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
That morning Fiona’s boyfriend asked her to marry him. He even had a date in mind. Over the weekend she had told him how she was feeling. She thought she had spoken plainly enough and he had gone away. She had a bad weekend but yesterday felt she was starting to be more herself again. So it came as a surprise, and she had to explain again.
And then she went to bed, and pulled the covers over her head, and let the sound of the rain falling outside soothe her.
She had a funny dream. She was in a courtroom seated on a little wooden chair, wearing a beautiful dress made of exquisite lace. In her arms she held a baby. She had dreamed of the baby before, but in the previous dream she had felt only repulsion for the funny little thing with its exhausted tiny body, and extra long hair. This time she was holding it protectively.
On one side of the courtroom were a group of people looking very serious and professional. She felt them to be mainly doctors and lawyers and they wore dark suits. On the other there were people chanting and waving placards. Some were meditating, others were dancing and they looked like crazy hippy people.
The two groups of people were fighting over something, shouting backwards and forwards, and it seemed to be something to do with her. She was getting more and more tense as she sat on the little chair with her head down and listened to the two sides, till it seemed she might explode.
Suddenly she looked up and she saw a funny Chinese gentleman, smiling and winking at her. He held out his hand to her and, holding the baby gently with one arm, she took it gratefully and they escaped from the bedlam.
When Fiona eventually decided she could emerge from beneath the covers the rain had stopped.
Bugger this! she said
She put on music loudly and danced around the house doing the housework…..
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Malvina looked for a moment at the movements of the strings of her enchanted harp before beginning to play herself. The strings were moved very beautifully, and reproduced her own graceful movements, when she played that lovely tune from her homeland .
The sounds were carried down through the many tunnels, and resounded in all the cave, in soothing drops of music. When she observed the creatures through her mind connection with her dragon companion Leörmn, she knew they were loving the sound of it.
And all very naturally, she began to wrap her alabaster hands around the instrument, and as if she was consoling it, inclined her head towards it, and started to move her fingers along the strings, beginning to enhance the previous melody, blending her new sounds into it, until the strings felt so at ease that they let themselves vibrate with the sound, without need to stir more than what Malvina’s fingers was gently asking.
The sound enveloped the cave, and the delightful music even drew some glukenitches closer, even though she was in the plain light falling from the hole at the top of the cave hall, down to the wooden platform where she was seated.
In the silgreen tree which was blooming sparkling flowers of emerald and silver once every moon, that she had planted here when she had first come to the cave, she saw a couple of flying sparflies settle down. These were usually very discreet birds, and their song was one of the treasures of the Worlds. And their accompanying her music was for Malvina a joy beyond compare.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
The silent humid inky darkness closed in on Arona as she chose her path. She could not see the way but it did not matter. She trusted the darkness and the silence. She knew the way and yet could not have explained that even to herself..
She felt the music before she heard it. She did not know where it came from but the sound grew in intensity until it filled the whole space. She heard voices singing and could not understand the words and yet she felt her spirit soar and fly though her body did not move. The music was achingly beautiful and Arona felt her face wet with tears of happiness that something so beautiful existed.
Arona did not know how long she stood like that listening, but even after it ended she could still hear the music softly in her mind.
As she moved forward on her journey Arona saw a faint glimmer of light up ahead and moved towards it. The source of light was a burning candle, valiantly offering some respite from the darkness, and illuminating a door at the end of the tunnel.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Malvina enchanted harp had been playing for quite some time now, an old tune from her homeland and she was beginning to feel like she wanted to improvise some new music.
She had been combing every nook and cranny of every hole into the many tunnels spreading inside the cave this morning, and was quite exhausted now. Of all the few pearl-like eggs that she had found, only two looked like a promise of new baby dragons. Others would probably dry up and become hard glassy balls, that she could polish and sell in the market of the village.
These round balls were mostly bought by rich merchants who used them only as decorations, or as a ostentatious display of riches. Few of them knew that imbued with dragon magix, they could be used as focal points, especially for two people to communicate through them.
Malvina did not care to explain to the buyers, as long as they were only interested in the mundane. That was somewhat saddening at times, because when people started to forget about the innate magix pervading the Worlds, they started to loose their power to steer their own ships. And sometimes, for some of them, they would just create strange things out of nowhere, like sudden rains in a clear blue sky, only to remind them of this power. But for the less fortunate of them, they would just wallow in the mud and cry to the sky, forgetting that they were creating this for a purpose…
But now, the harp was calling for her, and she knew it would delight the little Buckberry and the guests she could feel were approaching, if not here already…
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Yann had been having these strange dreams and impressions since he’d been in that cave during his last trip to Scotland. In the cave he had that strange impression of a dragon roaring, but he’d rationalized that with the noise of the falls, it was quite deafening. It’d been raining for so much time that the amount of water streaming through that cave was amazing… the visits had been suspended because they feared floods and they couldn’t really explore the cave then. All he could do then was picking up a pebble for Fiona, a pebble he had still to send her
After that, he’d had the weirdest impression to be observed by dragons… they felt quite big, and event though he tried to tell himself it was some effect of his imagination, he was still uneasy about that.
The imagery of dragons had continued with his discussion with Quintin, who told him he had drawn that very cave… in which there were dragon eggs and their keeper. A strange harper woman. When he’d been shown the painting, Yann had that feeling of déjà vu, and the kid attending the newborn dragon on the upper right of the picture had aroused an intense desire to do that very action.
“The tunnels had been changed again”, he thought first.
That weird thought made him laugh and he couldn’t tell to Quintin why… yet.
And last week there was his friend Anastasia who was coming back from a trip to Budapest where she had seen so many dragons in the hotel, in the museums, and there was that parade, they were calling that the dragon’s parade, and it was music and parties all the Saturday night. She enjoyed that tremendously. She even told him she had the impression of being a dragon when looking in the mirror right after that night.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Arona was quiet for a long time. The thing was she was not thinking about the riddle.
You know Dragon, she said eventually, I may not look very bright but I am not so stupid I can’t answer your foolish riddle. The truth is though that I don’t want to listen to the music if I am so unwelcome that I have to answer silly questions.
I have been wandering for quite a long time now, since I left the village I was born. I heard the music and I had a feeling of home I had long since forgotten. I thought there may be friendly folk here who would be pleased to welcome me. And I would have been pleased to get to know you too.
Anyway I bid you farewell and wish you all the best.
and Arona turned to leave.
The dragon was kind hearted really, and was sorry to see the girl go, and to see the tear which fell on her cheek.
Wait! Leormn called to her if you are sure you know the answer I will take your word for it. After all it was rather an easy riddle, so you see I did want to welcome you really. Come inside, you will be welcome, for I see your heart is true
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Illi disliked water so much, that she had barely moved since the last sudden rain, as if frozen and electrified by each of the tiny drops that touched her fur. That was not unusual, for she was a gripshawk, a race of strong-willed warriors from the Deserts of the Far South, but more accustomed to the droughts and sands than to unexpected rains.
She mostly looked like a human, but with very feline features, and a soft spotted fur on her supple body. Her two pointed ears had been very early drawn to the music, but that rain had caught her by surprise. How foolish of her to have followed that faint track so far from her hometown…
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Dory was floating. The warm waters of the lagoon rippled underneath her, relaxing and soothing. The sun was going down, and the sky was quilted with puffy pink clouds above her, the coconut trees black silhouettes against the blue-green horizon. Lazily, her gaze drifted towards the beach. The lemurs were dancing their magical dance amongst the trees. Balti chuckled behind her. Oh I forgot you were there Balti! He chuckled again. You wouldn’t relax, Dory, unless I promised to hold you, you thought you might drown. Dory had forgotten all about drowning.
Let’s go to the dance, Balti, she said. The dance of the lemurs . We can float closer to the shore and then we may hear the music.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Fiona realised she had run out of catfood as her black cat Ivy leapt up on the desk and began talking and rubbing against her face. Ivy was a very determined cat, and life would be unpleasant till this little issue was resolved. Maybe she should get some eggs too, all morning eggs had been coming to her attention for some reason. She wasn’t hungry right now, but maybe would be later.
Dory was often saying how her animals reflected something that was going on in her life, at the moment it was the need to focus on herself more. Fiona wondered what Ivy reflected. She had never had a cat more persistent in getting it’s own way. Or more talkative. That doesn’t really sound much like me, Fiona reflected, but it did feel like there was something there she wasn’t quite getting.
The other funny thing Fiona noticed was that she kept drawing the music card. She had a box of Angel cards her friend gave her, and had been fiddling with them. Three times the music card had fallen out from the pack. “The angels guide you to immerse yourself in beautiful music”, hmmm she thought to herself, beautiful music … maybe that will drown Ivy out …
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Arona peered inside the darkness of the cave and got the fright of her life as a disembodied voice commanded imperiously to know her business. Not being particularly brave, or especially stupid, Arona began to back away.
Stop, commanded the voice, and Leormn the dragon moved slowly out into the light.
Holy Pixiesticks! gasped Arona, and found herself rendered momentarily speechless.
Leormn, secretly always rather flattered at the reaction his presence elicited, smiled rather mysteriously at Arona, “And what brings you here, where you have no business to be?” .
Arona finally found her voice “I heard the music, it is so long since I have heard music and all I wanted was to listen for a while, but it’s okay, I will go now if I am not welcome here”
Leormn pondered this, rather longer than was necessary, but it was a long while since anyone had come to the cave and he enjoyed the distraction. He was in a particularly good mood that day, delighted with little Buckberry and life in general.
“If you can answer this riddle I will allow you to listen” he said at last.
I am a box with no corner or side. I hold a golden treasure inside. What am I?In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Inside her cave, Malvina was playing the harp. She was happy and in harmony with the Worlds.
She came from a long lineage of Light Sorcerers and Sorceresses, but had preferred to the fuss of a great career in one of the quarreling kingdoms, a pleasant life inside this cave. The cave had been empty when she had found it, safe from some schpurniatz, but she knew how to tame them, and she had even left a few shadowy places for them to rest , hung upside down under the holes and crevices during daylight, when she had used Magix to transform the rocky walls into a comfortable dwelling place.
She was happy, because new eggs had been laid, and they had come early this time. The eggs, she cherished not because of their gilded aspect, but because they were the sons and daughters of her mighty dragon friend Leörmn. Eggs were highly sought by greedy pirates of the Northern Seas, and though she had been as discrete as possible, she knew they had lots of informants, and her aura was spreading in the villages around, especially since she had helped that little boy who had fallen inadvertently inside the cave.
At least, this time she would be warned by Leörmn, who was keeping watch at the entrance, and whose riddles could very well befuddle the greedy uninvited fellows into forgetting their names altogether.
So now, she played, and played, and music notes were like soothing water drops, carried away by the rivulet inside the cave…
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
But Arona had more compelling matters to pursue. The music was calling. She pulled her cloak around tightly around herself, for she knew there was strong magic in these parts, and one could never be quite sure … yet she was learning to trust her inner knowing, and there was a lightness to be felt in the air.
The music came from a cave in the hillside and she moved gently towards the entrance.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Arona was lost. She had been lost for quite some time now and had got over the initial surprise this realisation had given her. It was not very often now that she questioned her decision to leave the others. She had tired of their endless journeying, always in circles, always moving and yet never seeming to move beyond the confines of the small village.
One day she told them she was leaving. She wasn’t even sure if they heard her but still she set off, wearing her heavy black cape and carrying a small bag of her most treasured possessions.
Arona had not been sure of the cape, it was so heavy, yet she feared the cold nights and loved the security of it’s warmth. It had been a gift from her parents, a long time ago, when she was just a child. Wear this cape and one day it will bring you happiness, her mother had said.
Her mother said many odd things and had left on a journey of her own a many years ago, so Arona had never really been able to find out what she meant. Magically the cape had grown with her body, moulding itself to her.
The worst of the winter cold was over now and Arona found the cape almost unbearably heavy at times, yet she could not quite bring herself to leave it behind. Sometimes she would take it off, relishing in the lightness and feeling the warmth of the sun on her body. She always put it back on though, just in case she needed it one day.
Arona pulled out a well worn map from her bag. The map had been a gift from a travelling wizard who visited the village a few years ago. Arona had given him food and shelter and he repaid her kindness with the map. He seemed to think it was quite generous of him and Arona had thanked him politely. To be honest it was not really much use to her as she had no sense of direction, not even knowing which way north was, and not knowing where she was going anyway. She preferred just to follow whichever way seemed lightest at the time. But it was handy having the map because when she met others on the journey who asked her where she was going, she would wave her map at them. It made her look good, she thought, and saved her from too many questions.
That day as she sat on a rock pretending to ponder her map she became aware of a faint sound of music in the distance. She had not heard music for such a long time. Once on her journey she had passed a wandering minstrel and begged him to play for her so that she could dance. In exchange she had lent him her cloak for a while to keep him warm.
She felt the music beckoning her.
Fiona loved Quintin’s drawings. They had a feel of magic and lightness and she was entranced by them. They were like the children’s films she had been watching lately, with many layers to them and touching something inside her mind, a distant memory which felt strangely close.
Her own drawings felt heavy to her, and she had made a decision not to paint again unless she felt inspired. She did not really understand inspiration, only knew that she was tired of trying so hard.
