Bedtime Story: Reflections Of The Past: Earth: Chapter 8

8.

Midwinter Solstice Whilst Dearman was sleeping,

Jun climbed to the foot of the tallest pinnacle of rock in the valley and found the cave which was not a cave.

It was strange,

For it appeared to recede beneath the rocks,

Yet was simply a shadow.

But he would have trusted Dearman with his life,

And so hid his special spear in the undergrowth beside it,

And he took time to instruct Rowan further in the use of the weapon,

Just in case.

Rowan trusted Dearman too.

So much so,

She found herself sitting for hours by his sleeping form,

Watching his strong features.

The way his dark hair,

Which she had painstakingly replatted,

Snaked around his face.

How the muscles rippled beneath his tanned skin,

Tattooed with signs and symbols of nature and the elements.

Once she took an owl feather which had fallen from one of his plaits,

And rather than weave it back into his hair,

Tucked it into the little pouch she always carried about with her,

In memory of their time together.

Rowan continued to visit the sacred pool,

And John ensured he was seen around the village so as not to arouse suspicion.

But all appeared quiet,

And they almost began to imagine nothing would come of the previous events.

The only problem was the news their father's health continued to fail,

And none of the village healers appeared able to cure him.

Rowan could not help but suspect Crow's hand in this.

It was on a cold morning,

When the snow was once more beginning to fall,

And Rowan,

John and Dearman were struggling to keep warm,

When Dearman's eyes shot open,

And he sat bolt upright.

It is time,

He said,

And Rowan and John knew from his tone the day they were waiting for had arrived.

The light,

Continued Dearman,

And the rhythm of the earth,

The heartbeat deep inside.

His voice trailed off,

But Rowan and John felt it too.

There was a change in the air around them,

To the extent Rowan almost imagined she was in the other world of which Dearman so often spoke.

If she closed her eyes,

She could feel the ground beneath her feet beating in time with her heart,

And when she peered out of the cave between the bare branches of the trees,

The light seemed dimmer.

No sound could be heard,

And the valley held an air of anticipation.

It was then they heard the beat of the drums,

At odds to the heartbeat of the earth.

Slow and steady,

But filled with a menace which could not be ignored.

They're coming,

Whispered Dearman,

Struggling to stand,

But Rowan pushed him gently back,

Although her body trembled with fear.

Stay still,

She murmured,

Noting his white features and the sheen of perspiration upon his skin.

Rowan,

John's voice was urgent.

They're heading towards the sacred pool.

The time has come to dig it up.

Crow,

His voice trailed away in horror as he peered down from their hiding place,

And watched the band of villagers weaving their way along the path below them,

Fear mixed with grim determination on the faces of the people,

Triumph on that of Crow.

We must protect it,

Hissed John urgently.

Come.

Leaving Dearman in the cave,

Rowan and John made their way down the slope,

Arriving at the sacred pool just before Crow and the villagers.

Rowan's heart sank.

Here were people she had known all her life.

The women who had helped to raise her,

And the men who told her stories on dark firelit nights.

She wondered where her father was in her hour of need,

What ill Crow had caused to happen,

And how,

With his magic manipulative words and quest for treasure,

He had turned the hearts and minds of the people against her family.

Go home,

John spoke with all the authority he could muster.

Go home now and forget this treachery.

The villagers paused uncertainly,

But Crow continued to advance.

I have the magic crystal,

He wheedled triumph in his eyes,

And he who holds the magic crystal wields the power.

He turned to the villagers,

Holding the brilliant green and violet crystal high above him.

The villagers nodded.

I.

It was one of the elders who spoke,

Although his eyes would not meet Rowan's.

It is as we have agreed,

He who holds the magic crystal wields the power of the ancestors.

And the time has come.

Holding the brilliant crystal aloft,

And turning it slowly so it gleamed brightly in the ever-dimming light,

Crow raised his other hand to the skies in a gesture of power.

Begin your work in the name of the ancestors,

He cried.

Destroy the sacred pool.

Rowan took a deep breath in one final attempt to change their minds,

Show them how they had been tricked by Crow.

But before she could utter a sound,

There was a rush of wings,

And a great white owl swooped low over the group of people,

Grasped the crystal from Crow's outstretched hand in its huge talons,

And disappeared swiftly down the valley into the increasing darkness of the day.

Rowan faced Crow,

The villagers stunned and huddled behind him.

Crow gathered himself,

Clearly shocked but determined not to lose face.

I warn you for the last time,

He continued in loud ringing tones,

Turning to the villagers.

Unless you sacrifice the pool,

The sun will disappear and never return.

Your world will remain in darkness forevermore.

These are the words of the ancestors.

There was a flurry of snow,

The flakes falling suddenly thick and fast,

The sky darkening,

Crowding in on the valley as if night had truly come in the middle of the day.

Seize her,

He screamed,

As the skies darkened even more,

And when you have taken her,

Set about your work before it's too late.

Rowan turned and fled.

She ran faster than she had ever run in her life,

Hampered by her skirts and the snow which was now swirling thickly around her.

She headed for the rock high above the valley,

For the portal to the other world of which Dearman had spoken,

And which she knew to be her only chance of salvation,

Intent upon reaching the portal and the weapon she knew to be hidden there.

Behind her,

She could hear the shouts of Crow and the villagers,

And Rowan felt a rush of relief that,

For the moment,

Crow was more interested in her capture than the destruction of the sacred pool.

Her breath was ragged and she was aware she could not run for much longer,

But must reach her destination.

At the base of the pinnacle of rock,

Rowan surveyed the patch of darkness of which Dearman had spoken.

Flinging herself into the undergrowth,

Her hands scrabbled furiously until they closed around the shaft of the spear Jun had left there only days before.

She heard a shout as the villagers converged upon her,

Urged on by Crow.

Rowan waited,

Realising that indeed,

Something was terribly amiss with the valley,

And the ever deepening light in the sky.

Closing her eyes,

She sent a silent prayer for help to the gods,

But still Crow and the villagers advanced.

Crow stepped forwards,

Arms aloft and wide open to the sky,

A triumphant look upon his face.

His time had come for revenge and power.

Rowan turned towards the river,

Took a deep breath and howled.

In sheer anger and frustration,

She found a voice she had not known existed,

Her anguish echoing through the valley,

Swirling around the trees,

Riding upon flakes of snow,

Bouncing off the crystals of ice which clung in frozen steadfastness to the rocks and skimming over the surface of the water which rushed through the riverbed.

Her cry echoed around the valley despite the ever thickening snow,

And the villagers momentarily stepped back.

Rowan turned to face Crow,

Felt the smoothness of the spear's wooden shaft in her hand,

Aware of the sharpness of its point as she balanced it above her shoulder.

I warned you what would happen if you harmed this valley or any of the villagers,

She shouted,

Her words dancing upon the snow which swirled around her.

Crow laughed,

And what could a mere slip of a girl like you do,

He counted,

A mocking tone to his voice.

That useless brother of yours cannot even protect you,

A fine pair you have shown yourselves to be.

He laughed again,

A dry,

Mirthless sound which echoed along the valley on the heels of Rowan's howl,

Riding on the increasing strength of the wind as the day darkened even further into twilight.

Destroy the pool,

He shouted,

And as the villagers,

Unable to think for themselves,

Finally turned to do his bidding,

Rowan raised the spear and aimed straight at Crow.

Stop them,

She commanded.

The spear was finally balanced,

Waiting only for her to draw back her arm and hurl it towards its target.

Thunder rumbled and a flash of lightning lit the darkness of the surrounding countryside.

Stop them or I will kill you,

She repeated.

Her words were whipped away on the wind,

Swirled into the sky,

Then dropped again for all to hear.

Rowan held the spear steady,

Well balanced,

Just as Jan had taught her.

Crow laughed,

And Rowan knew he would never give up until he had achieved his goal.

She drew a deep breath,

Pulled back her arm and hurled the spear towards him,

The spearhead speeding high into the air,

Arching through the snow-filled sky until it found its target with a sickening thud.

The last vision the villagers had was of Rowan standing above them,

Whilst a great white owl swooped low over their heads.

She raised her arm,

Feeling the weight of the owl upon it,

As a fork of lightning illuminated the body of Crow,

Lying inert upon the snow,

A pool of red spreading around him.

Then the portal opened,

And the world,

As Rowan knew it,

Disappeared.