Psyren Wed Apr 11, 2012 4:04 amThe young girl forced her eyes shut and held her breath, trying hard to force reality away. Still, the acrid smoke burnt her lungs and the terrifying sounds of the night echoed in her ears. Even through her lids, she could see the brightness of the flames that consumed her family’s cottage. She swore she could still hear the screams of her family in the crackle of the inferno.
Terror froze the young girl and she could do nothing but wish it was all a terrifying nightmare.
“Oh, come, little one,” a cruel voice sneered, “We ain’t done with you yet!”
Struggling with the terror that froze her, the girl could do nothing but open her eyes and stare into the bloodthirsty eyes of one of the bandits that had set upon her family. The man leered at her and if she could have moved, the girl would have screamed. Instead, so consumed by fright, she did nothing but stared as he reached forth and grabbed a handful of her dark hair.
A keening screech split the night, piercing through the roar of the flames and the raucous cheering of the bandits. A flurry of feathers and wings filled the girl’s vision and she fell back, the grip on her hair suddenly gone.
The terror that locked the girl’s limbs was suddenly gone and she kicked and scurried, scrambling through the dirt and away from the man who now lay in a crumpled heap, holding his face which was now shredded and bloodied by the talons of a hawk.
But what had happened to the hawk, the girl did not see. Instead, the silhouette of a woman stood against the flames of the cottage and the girl could have sworn that goddess herself had risen to strike vengeance against the men who killed her family.
The woman raised a gnarled staff towards the heavens and the wind whipped in a sudden frenzy. In the blink of an eye, the woman slammed the butt of her staff down. Flames roared from the heavens and struck the house.
An explosion rocked the night.
Shielded as she was behind the legs of the mysterious woman, the girl felt the concussive force of the explosion ripple past her, but as the resulting wave of heat caught her, she fell into blackness.
“Be at ease, child,” the woman murmured soothingly, “Death is as much a part of the natural cycle as life and birth.”
Isabel set her jaw defiantly, but held her tongue.
“Not all who take from the earth fail to give back,” the woman continued, noting the girl’s angry expression, “Nor do they fail to give thanks to the Earthmother for the bounty she provides.”
As usual, the mention of their goddess placated the worst of the girl’s fiery temper, but anger still danced in her eyes. Her long, dark hair and cloak whipped in the chill wind and Isabel looked every bit as furious as the approaching storm as the two stood on a small knoll. Overlooking a tiny homestead on the edge of the forest they could see two figures -- from this distance, it was impossible to glean any more detail -- hurriedly going about stripping the branches off a number of trees they had felled.
“The deaths should be theirs!” Isabel hissed through clenched teeth, “Instead of the trees and the animals they displace!”
Adara sighed softly. Goddess grant her patience and wisdom, she prayed silently, lest she bring more harm than good.
The first icy drops of rain began to fall and in the distance, thunder boomed. The storm was going to be furious and relentless and the older woman had hoped to find shelter with the family of the homestead -- a family she’d long known as good and kind folk. Unfortunately, the girl’s anger and temper would quickly erase any welcome the family had for the two wandering druids.
Adara laid a hand on Isabel’s shoulder and turned from the homestead. “Come,” she said, “Let us seek shelter from what is sure to be a violent storm.”
Adara picked her way down the rocky path towards the secluded moonwell, one bony hand gathering up the long hem of her woolen robe while the other hand gripped her gnarled staff -- the same staff Isabel had seen the old druid use to call vengeance from the heavens, call forth storms, part impeding brambles, and numerous other miracles.
Isabel swallowed dryly as she followed. Something tickled the back of her mind and warned against what was to come. Even Lunah, the young wolf pup she rescued when it’s mother died to a poacher’s trap, seemed restless and agitated as she loped at Isabel’s heel.
The two women had travelled the rocky path many times. The placid moonwell was at the heart of a grove where the two often spent several weeks out of every year and it was the closest thing to a home that Isabel had ever known since her true family had perished and her real home destroyed on a fateful night many years ago.
In the years since her family had been murdered by bandits in the dark of the night, Isabel grew to love Adara as her own mother. And Adara had raised the girl not only as her own daughter, but also as a daughter of the Earthmother, a druid of the goddess of the Moonshaes. And, thus, Isabel knew something important was to happen. The moonwell always signified something of importance.
“What is it, Adara?” Isabel asked, worried.
“Patience, child,” was all that Adara answered.
Isabel was not sure whether the strange tone in Adara’s voice was truly there or simply the manifestation of Isabel’s own concern. She eagerly wanted to ask again, knowing with certainty that Adara had something planned, but she kept her curiosity in check as the two made their way to the moonwell.
When they reached the edge of the pool, Adara lowered herself to her knees and leaned over the placid waters. “Look into the moonwell, Isabel,” Adara instructed, her voice strangely soft and gentle, “Look into the heart of the Earthmother.”
Isabel lowered herself to her knees at Adara’s side, studying the older woman for a long moment for a hint of what was to come. Finally, she turned her attention to the water as Lunah sat at her side, watching in silence.
A youthful, pretty face framed by long, dark tresses looked back at her with eyes nearly the same color as the moonwell. A thin torc of twisted copper circled her neck, identifying her as a druid of the Earthmother. Next to her, the wolf pup with silvery fur and intelligent eyes.
“What do you see?”
Isabel paused before answering, knowing the old druid wanted something more than what was obvious. Failing to contrive an insightful response, Isabel simply shrugged her shoulders.
Adara reached a bony hand over the pool and the still waters stirred beneath her gesture. Isabel’s reflection, framed by the tall pines and oak that formed the grove, rippled and blurred. Having been present when Adara had previously used the moonwell to scry distant persons and places, Isabel held her breath and waited for the image to reform.
As if born on the wings of a bird, the dense canopy of a strange forest rolled by, the canopy so thick that it was almost impossible to see the ground that lay beneath. Miles upon miles of unbroken forest sped by, revealed in the clear waters of the moonwell.
“Cormanthor,” Adara said simply, and the image continued to progress.
Isabel did not need to ask; the ancient forest of Cormanthor was well-known even on the distant Moonshae Isles. The image continued until it began to slow and rolling pastures and farmlands began to border the forest edge. A small village, nestled on the banks of a winding river, came into view.
“Shadowdale.”
Isabel realized she still held her breath and exhaled as the divination began to slow and circle the small town as if through the eyes of an eagle or hawk. Slowly, it began to descend towards the town and a rustic temple of some sort came into view, surrounded by orchards and rolling fields.
“Here, too, is the Earthmother venerated,” Adara said, her voice soft and her gaze distant, “Yet here she is known as Chauntea, the Grain Goddess and the Great Mother.”
“I do not understand,” Isabel began to protest.
“Elsewhere,” Adara explained, cutting off the younger woman’s protests, “the Goddess is viewed as a much gentler and more agrarian mother. They venerate Her as the goddess that blesses their crops and offers forth Her bounty. She is the Mother who nurtures all her children, in lands beyond the Moonshaes.”
How Adara spoke the last words sent an alarming shiver down Isabel’s back as the images in the moonwell dissipated, almost as if they had never been there.
“’In lands beyond the Moonshaes,’” Isabel echoed hollowly.
Adara turned from the moonwell and met Isabel’s gaze. Knowing the young woman whom she raised as her own daughter to be quick of wit and sharp of mind, the old druid only offered a gentle, motherly smile spoke an apology that her words did not. Tears blurred Isabel’s vision and she felt Lunah nuzzling her gently as if reassuring her with her presence.
“You’re-,” Isabel began, but stopped short as she swallowed back her tears and struggled to regain her composure. “You’re sending me away, aren’t you?”
Adara reached forth and took the young woman’s hand in her own. Squeezing it softly, she said, “I am not sending you away, child. Never would I do that. The Earthmother delivered to me the child I always wanted yet. I’ve raised you--loved you!--as my own daughter.”
“Then why?” Isabel asked, almost inaudibly as tears began to roll down her cheeks.
“You still harbor the spite and anger in your heart from when your family was taken from you,” Adara explained gently, giving her hand another reassuring squeeze, “Seeds of hatred were sown and they’ve taken root, growing into dark brambles that entwine your heart. You’ve misplaced your anger and hold not only the culprits--those culprits who all died that same night--responsible, but instead lay the blame on all the men and women you meet, many of whom are good and honest Ffolk of the Isles.
“You must learn to temper your anger, to forgive what was done to you so many years ago. You must learn to embrace the more gentle teachings of the Earthmother. Only by learning and accepting that the Goddess wishes us to partake and revel in Her bounty can you truly come to understand Her.”
Deep in her heart, Isabel knew Adara’s words to be true. The hatred and anger lay in her heart like a dark shadow. Adara never pointed out that darkness or addressed it with anything more than a sad or mournful look. Until now.
“Your path lies elsewhere, in lands far removed from the Ffolk and the Isles,” Adara continued, “The Goddess has revealed that much to me. And just as she brought us together when we needed it most, so too has she brought you and Lunah together. I am pledged here, to my moonwell and my grove, but Lunah is devoted to her pack. She goes where her pack goes, meaning she goes where you do.”
As if in response, the large wolf nuzzled the young woman once more.
So it was that Isabel left the Moonshae Isles, her only companion a young wolf pup who bore the blessing of the ancient moonwells of the Earthmother. By ship and land she travelled many, many miles until at last her feet tread on the North Ride through the heart of Shadowdale.
It was here that her adventure truly starts.
Approved by Fyrekrest
Terror froze the young girl and she could do nothing but wish it was all a terrifying nightmare.
“Oh, come, little one,” a cruel voice sneered, “We ain’t done with you yet!”
Struggling with the terror that froze her, the girl could do nothing but open her eyes and stare into the bloodthirsty eyes of one of the bandits that had set upon her family. The man leered at her and if she could have moved, the girl would have screamed. Instead, so consumed by fright, she did nothing but stared as he reached forth and grabbed a handful of her dark hair.
A keening screech split the night, piercing through the roar of the flames and the raucous cheering of the bandits. A flurry of feathers and wings filled the girl’s vision and she fell back, the grip on her hair suddenly gone.
The terror that locked the girl’s limbs was suddenly gone and she kicked and scurried, scrambling through the dirt and away from the man who now lay in a crumpled heap, holding his face which was now shredded and bloodied by the talons of a hawk.
But what had happened to the hawk, the girl did not see. Instead, the silhouette of a woman stood against the flames of the cottage and the girl could have sworn that goddess herself had risen to strike vengeance against the men who killed her family.
The woman raised a gnarled staff towards the heavens and the wind whipped in a sudden frenzy. In the blink of an eye, the woman slammed the butt of her staff down. Flames roared from the heavens and struck the house.
An explosion rocked the night.
Shielded as she was behind the legs of the mysterious woman, the girl felt the concussive force of the explosion ripple past her, but as the resulting wave of heat caught her, she fell into blackness.
* * * * *
“Be at ease, child,” the woman murmured soothingly, “Death is as much a part of the natural cycle as life and birth.”
Isabel set her jaw defiantly, but held her tongue.
“Not all who take from the earth fail to give back,” the woman continued, noting the girl’s angry expression, “Nor do they fail to give thanks to the Earthmother for the bounty she provides.”
As usual, the mention of their goddess placated the worst of the girl’s fiery temper, but anger still danced in her eyes. Her long, dark hair and cloak whipped in the chill wind and Isabel looked every bit as furious as the approaching storm as the two stood on a small knoll. Overlooking a tiny homestead on the edge of the forest they could see two figures -- from this distance, it was impossible to glean any more detail -- hurriedly going about stripping the branches off a number of trees they had felled.
“The deaths should be theirs!” Isabel hissed through clenched teeth, “Instead of the trees and the animals they displace!”
Adara sighed softly. Goddess grant her patience and wisdom, she prayed silently, lest she bring more harm than good.
The first icy drops of rain began to fall and in the distance, thunder boomed. The storm was going to be furious and relentless and the older woman had hoped to find shelter with the family of the homestead -- a family she’d long known as good and kind folk. Unfortunately, the girl’s anger and temper would quickly erase any welcome the family had for the two wandering druids.
Adara laid a hand on Isabel’s shoulder and turned from the homestead. “Come,” she said, “Let us seek shelter from what is sure to be a violent storm.”
* * * * *
Adara picked her way down the rocky path towards the secluded moonwell, one bony hand gathering up the long hem of her woolen robe while the other hand gripped her gnarled staff -- the same staff Isabel had seen the old druid use to call vengeance from the heavens, call forth storms, part impeding brambles, and numerous other miracles.
Isabel swallowed dryly as she followed. Something tickled the back of her mind and warned against what was to come. Even Lunah, the young wolf pup she rescued when it’s mother died to a poacher’s trap, seemed restless and agitated as she loped at Isabel’s heel.
The two women had travelled the rocky path many times. The placid moonwell was at the heart of a grove where the two often spent several weeks out of every year and it was the closest thing to a home that Isabel had ever known since her true family had perished and her real home destroyed on a fateful night many years ago.
In the years since her family had been murdered by bandits in the dark of the night, Isabel grew to love Adara as her own mother. And Adara had raised the girl not only as her own daughter, but also as a daughter of the Earthmother, a druid of the goddess of the Moonshaes. And, thus, Isabel knew something important was to happen. The moonwell always signified something of importance.
“What is it, Adara?” Isabel asked, worried.
“Patience, child,” was all that Adara answered.
Isabel was not sure whether the strange tone in Adara’s voice was truly there or simply the manifestation of Isabel’s own concern. She eagerly wanted to ask again, knowing with certainty that Adara had something planned, but she kept her curiosity in check as the two made their way to the moonwell.
When they reached the edge of the pool, Adara lowered herself to her knees and leaned over the placid waters. “Look into the moonwell, Isabel,” Adara instructed, her voice strangely soft and gentle, “Look into the heart of the Earthmother.”
Isabel lowered herself to her knees at Adara’s side, studying the older woman for a long moment for a hint of what was to come. Finally, she turned her attention to the water as Lunah sat at her side, watching in silence.
A youthful, pretty face framed by long, dark tresses looked back at her with eyes nearly the same color as the moonwell. A thin torc of twisted copper circled her neck, identifying her as a druid of the Earthmother. Next to her, the wolf pup with silvery fur and intelligent eyes.
“What do you see?”
Isabel paused before answering, knowing the old druid wanted something more than what was obvious. Failing to contrive an insightful response, Isabel simply shrugged her shoulders.
Adara reached a bony hand over the pool and the still waters stirred beneath her gesture. Isabel’s reflection, framed by the tall pines and oak that formed the grove, rippled and blurred. Having been present when Adara had previously used the moonwell to scry distant persons and places, Isabel held her breath and waited for the image to reform.
As if born on the wings of a bird, the dense canopy of a strange forest rolled by, the canopy so thick that it was almost impossible to see the ground that lay beneath. Miles upon miles of unbroken forest sped by, revealed in the clear waters of the moonwell.
“Cormanthor,” Adara said simply, and the image continued to progress.
Isabel did not need to ask; the ancient forest of Cormanthor was well-known even on the distant Moonshae Isles. The image continued until it began to slow and rolling pastures and farmlands began to border the forest edge. A small village, nestled on the banks of a winding river, came into view.
“Shadowdale.”
Isabel realized she still held her breath and exhaled as the divination began to slow and circle the small town as if through the eyes of an eagle or hawk. Slowly, it began to descend towards the town and a rustic temple of some sort came into view, surrounded by orchards and rolling fields.
“Here, too, is the Earthmother venerated,” Adara said, her voice soft and her gaze distant, “Yet here she is known as Chauntea, the Grain Goddess and the Great Mother.”
“I do not understand,” Isabel began to protest.
“Elsewhere,” Adara explained, cutting off the younger woman’s protests, “the Goddess is viewed as a much gentler and more agrarian mother. They venerate Her as the goddess that blesses their crops and offers forth Her bounty. She is the Mother who nurtures all her children, in lands beyond the Moonshaes.”
How Adara spoke the last words sent an alarming shiver down Isabel’s back as the images in the moonwell dissipated, almost as if they had never been there.
“’In lands beyond the Moonshaes,’” Isabel echoed hollowly.
Adara turned from the moonwell and met Isabel’s gaze. Knowing the young woman whom she raised as her own daughter to be quick of wit and sharp of mind, the old druid only offered a gentle, motherly smile spoke an apology that her words did not. Tears blurred Isabel’s vision and she felt Lunah nuzzling her gently as if reassuring her with her presence.
“You’re-,” Isabel began, but stopped short as she swallowed back her tears and struggled to regain her composure. “You’re sending me away, aren’t you?”
Adara reached forth and took the young woman’s hand in her own. Squeezing it softly, she said, “I am not sending you away, child. Never would I do that. The Earthmother delivered to me the child I always wanted yet. I’ve raised you--loved you!--as my own daughter.”
“Then why?” Isabel asked, almost inaudibly as tears began to roll down her cheeks.
“You still harbor the spite and anger in your heart from when your family was taken from you,” Adara explained gently, giving her hand another reassuring squeeze, “Seeds of hatred were sown and they’ve taken root, growing into dark brambles that entwine your heart. You’ve misplaced your anger and hold not only the culprits--those culprits who all died that same night--responsible, but instead lay the blame on all the men and women you meet, many of whom are good and honest Ffolk of the Isles.
“You must learn to temper your anger, to forgive what was done to you so many years ago. You must learn to embrace the more gentle teachings of the Earthmother. Only by learning and accepting that the Goddess wishes us to partake and revel in Her bounty can you truly come to understand Her.”
Deep in her heart, Isabel knew Adara’s words to be true. The hatred and anger lay in her heart like a dark shadow. Adara never pointed out that darkness or addressed it with anything more than a sad or mournful look. Until now.
“Your path lies elsewhere, in lands far removed from the Ffolk and the Isles,” Adara continued, “The Goddess has revealed that much to me. And just as she brought us together when we needed it most, so too has she brought you and Lunah together. I am pledged here, to my moonwell and my grove, but Lunah is devoted to her pack. She goes where her pack goes, meaning she goes where you do.”
As if in response, the large wolf nuzzled the young woman once more.
* * * * *
So it was that Isabel left the Moonshae Isles, her only companion a young wolf pup who bore the blessing of the ancient moonwells of the Earthmother. By ship and land she travelled many, many miles until at last her feet tread on the North Ride through the heart of Shadowdale.
It was here that her adventure truly starts.
Approved by Fyrekrest
Last edited by Fyrekrest on Fri Apr 20, 2012 5:58 am; edited 1 time in total (Reason for editing : Approval: well done!)
