The thunder rolled forth from the urn, pushing Drake further back from the table. His face was a frozen mask of fear and uncertainty. His hands were down at his sides. The right fist had slipped into a pocket, like he was fumbling for something inside his pants.
Seeing Cerrydwen laying on the ground, her face scrunched up in obvious agony as she clutched her shattered wrist with her good hand, the bear finally saw fit to get up off of my chest and waddle over to her.
Despite the still shuddering earth, I took this opportunity to sit up, but I was more busy going back and forth between watching Drake and glancing at the now glowing urn as a vaporous cloud of dark energy spilled forth from the mouth, slowly growing in a man-shaped form.
Drake had finally found what he had been searching for, pulling out a large silver ring set with a small dark stone. He took one brief moment to look at the ring before returning his attention the growing man-cloud. He clenched the ring in the palm of his now sweaty hand. Beads of sweat were now dripping from his head. His dress shirt was showing several sweat stains as well.
The man-cloud solidified. Two fire-red eyes formed in its head, a mouth appeared. It took a step towards Drake, one translucent arm reaching forward. The mouth opened and closed, but no sound emerged, yet. As the creature moved away from the urn, it crashed to the ground, now a hollow bronze shell.
As the creature stepped forward, Drake stepped back, coming closer to where I now sat up. He glanced back to where I was, stammered out a barely heard sentence. “Rusty, this ring, it is absolutely critical that you take it.”
“What are you taking about?”
The man-cloud leaped forward, forming into an arrow that pierced into Drake’s chest. Drake’s back arched in agony as he was blown backwards and spun around, landing face first in the dirt at my outstretched feet. His body began spasming in violent bursts as he flopped about on the ground like a fish gasping for breath. His voice cried out in tortured wails, his eyes had rolled backwards in his head. The hand clenched around the ring remained sealed shut, as if it was the one part of his body he could still control.
The thrashing, wailing and agony continued for several moments, then all went silent and still. The hand holding the ring unclenched and twitched just enough to propel the ring btween my legs. It rolled to a stop and fell onto a side, little bits of smoldered flesh still attached to it. Looking up from it, I could see the palm bearing the scars of the ring, a large black circle evidence of where the ring was.
Unsure of what else to do at the moment, I reached down and grabbed the ring with my left hand and quickly stuck it in my inside jacket pocket. I then got up, looking over to where the naked form of the Frau was fretting over Cerrydwen and her broken arm.
I was just about to head over to see if I could do anything, when Drake’s body stirred again. I stepped back, not sure what was happening.
The body twitched again. A new round of convulsions began, though this time, they started out violent, but calmed quickly as he gathered himself and pushed up into a kneeling position. I got the distinct impression that someone new was trying out the body.
That feeling was confirmed as the former face of my enemy looked up at me with eyes more human than I could ever remember, and he smiled. Not the thin, smirk that I knew so well, but a genuine smile. His voice cracking, the being spoke, haltingly at first, then more sure. “I am Dracaar, is it you I have to thank for my release?”
Shaking my head, I pointed over to Cerrydwen and the Frau. “No, it was those ladies who released you. Thank them for your freedom.”
Dracaar shifted his look to the two ladies and clucked his tongue as he strode over to them. “I see that you have suffered at the hands of my wayward son. Please, let me help you.”
Frau moved enough for the figure of Dracaar to kneel down and touch Cerrydwen’s limp and swollen wrist. A warm yellow energy leaped from his fingers and entered her arm. Cerrydwen yelped in shock, but was soon able to move her fingers and hand without any pain.
Even as I watched this, I could see Drake’s former body continue to shift and fill out. He seemed to be gaining in height, weight and muscle mass, filling out from the rail thin frame that Drake had carried into a fuller, stronger, taller form that resembled more a linebacker than a bureacrat.
When the figure turned back to me, I could hardly recognize the face of my former foe, as his cheeks had filled out, his chin took on a much stronger cast, his eyes had a warm, charismatic feel to them. His voice, when he spoke again had a deep, sonorous quality that was also new, yet quite pleasing to the ear, even if the words themselves gave pause.
“FREE AT LONG LAST!” His arms were outstretched as he called out. He looked around at each of us, dropped his arms and lowered his voice. “I have much to do. I must take my leave now. I will have need of capable servants in the near future, serve me again, and you will be rewarded byond your wildest mortal dreams.”
With that he turned on his heal, strode to the table and grabbed the other urn. Energy gathered about him and the urn, culminating in a bright flash that faded to reveal an empty table and Dracaar missing.
We looked over at each other in awe, and more than a little fear. Frau was the first to speak. “What have we just released?”
Sunday, May 28, 2006
Friday, May 26, 2006
Confrontational Guest...Part 2
Imagine my surprise then, when instead of heading straight for Drake, the bear dodged to the side, quicker than I would have thought possible and crashed into my chest. Her great strength and large mass were easily enough to knock me to the ground. Before I could unscramble my senses and get back up, she settled her furry behind onto my chest, effectively pinning me as she sat facing Drake.
I was sprawled out on my back, but I was in a position that allowed me to see the shit eating grin on Drake’s face as he relaxed from his fighting stance and looked down at me in an even more condescending manner than normal.
Seeing his wicked grin, I struggled to free myself, but the Frau just settled down even more until I stopped struggling.
Drake threw his back in laughter at this pathetic scene. “Rusty, you have a strange choice of allies, I must say. Someday, if you survive long enough, you will learn the value of imposing your Will upon those who should serve.”
“Drake, you bastard! I know who you are now, what you’ve done to survive this long!”
He knelt down on one knee near my head, but just beyond my reach. “Yes, I know, son. But I also know what and who you’ve become. We share so much in common, you and I. Perhaps I will take you in as a student and teach you some of what I know. Then, you could be truly reach your full potential.”
If I could have spat in his face, I would have, but alas zombies don’t generate much saliva. “Fuck off, Drake. Once I get loose, I’m going to find you and kill you once and for all!”
“Oh yes, I tremble at the mere thought of it.” He laughed as he stood up, dusted off his pant leg and looked into the bear’s face disdainfully. “I know you from somewhere, bear.”
The bear licked her lips with her long tongue and brought her own face closer to Drake’s. Soon the two of them were within inches of each other as each stared into the eyes of the other.
The wrenching sneeze of the bear blasted bits of green and brown mucus onto Drake’s face and shirt, sending him staggering back a couple of steps as he wiped the disgusting spray from his face, cursing all of the while.
“Enough of these games.” He dropped the now dirty handkerchief into the grass and took one step towards the table, only to come face to face once again with the nearly naked form of Cerrydwen. The left side of her face was already purpling with a nasty bruise.
She looked calm and resolute as she stood straight and spoke to the man who had struck her down. “You have broken the Peace of this place, dear sir, but for that transgression, you are forgiven. Now, you have one last opportunity to start your journey down the long and difficult road to redemption.”
“I want nothing of your forgiveness, or your redemption, woman. I want what is mine!”
“If you continue down the path you seem so determined to take, you needn’t worry about that, dear sir, you will most assuredly get what is yours!”
“Woman, are you threatening me? You have no power over me! Stand aside, or I will be forced to hurt you again.”
I couldn’t get up, but it didn’t mean I was going to remain silent. “Drake, you better not touch her again! Come here and fight someone your own damn size!”
All three of them ignored me.
“Sir,” Cerrydwen countered, “it is not within your power to truly harm me. So strike me if you feel you must, but I will not stand aside while those beings remained trapped within those vessels.”
He stood silent for a moment, as he was unsure of what to do. I could see his right hand clench and unclench several times before he replied. “I will not allow you to free those monsters. You don’t know what it cost me to imprison them inside those urns.”
“Whatever their crimes, you have no right to keep them imprisoned in this way. I am afraid that if you will not release them on your own, I will have to do so. You may have the vessels when they are empty.”
As he stood there mute, Cerrydwen turned her back on him and walked up to the table. She picked up a gleaming silver athame that I had not seen before and reach toward the first urn, calling out in a sing song voice in a language that even I did not recognize.
All eyes were on Cerrydwen as she drew the urn containing the spirit of Drake’s mother to her and wave the athame over it in a mesmerizing manner, chanting all of the way. The glowing blade left a trace pattern of light behind as it moved, much like the sparklers I used to wave around in my youth.
Drake had stood rock still, as if he too were caught under a spell of some sort. But his shout and quick, lunging movement forward shattered the magickal calm. He caught her wrist in his left hand, twisting it in a cruel manner that created a loud popping sound from the bones in her wrist and a soft grunt of pain from her lips. The blade slipped from her spasming fingers and fell to the ground, the glowing blade seeming to drift in slow motion to stab into the moist earth of the island.
The moment the blade plunged into the earth was also the moment that the earth gave forth a great shudder of pain. Drake staggered with the sudden shift in the ground beneath him, still holding the obviously broken wrist of Cerrydwen, as they both stumbled back from the stone table where the urns began gyrating wildly.
With a great heave the earth buckled one more time, causing the larger urn of Dracaar to tumble from the table.
Too late, Drake saw the vessel begin its fall. He cast Cerrydwen aside like a broken doll and dove in vain in an attempt to catch the urn.
The urn fell inexorably to land with it’s lead-lined but clay stoppered mouth landing on the glowing silver hit of the upright dagger. With a thunderous crack, the seal shattered...
I was sprawled out on my back, but I was in a position that allowed me to see the shit eating grin on Drake’s face as he relaxed from his fighting stance and looked down at me in an even more condescending manner than normal.
Seeing his wicked grin, I struggled to free myself, but the Frau just settled down even more until I stopped struggling.
Drake threw his back in laughter at this pathetic scene. “Rusty, you have a strange choice of allies, I must say. Someday, if you survive long enough, you will learn the value of imposing your Will upon those who should serve.”
“Drake, you bastard! I know who you are now, what you’ve done to survive this long!”
He knelt down on one knee near my head, but just beyond my reach. “Yes, I know, son. But I also know what and who you’ve become. We share so much in common, you and I. Perhaps I will take you in as a student and teach you some of what I know. Then, you could be truly reach your full potential.”
If I could have spat in his face, I would have, but alas zombies don’t generate much saliva. “Fuck off, Drake. Once I get loose, I’m going to find you and kill you once and for all!”
“Oh yes, I tremble at the mere thought of it.” He laughed as he stood up, dusted off his pant leg and looked into the bear’s face disdainfully. “I know you from somewhere, bear.”
The bear licked her lips with her long tongue and brought her own face closer to Drake’s. Soon the two of them were within inches of each other as each stared into the eyes of the other.
The wrenching sneeze of the bear blasted bits of green and brown mucus onto Drake’s face and shirt, sending him staggering back a couple of steps as he wiped the disgusting spray from his face, cursing all of the while.
“Enough of these games.” He dropped the now dirty handkerchief into the grass and took one step towards the table, only to come face to face once again with the nearly naked form of Cerrydwen. The left side of her face was already purpling with a nasty bruise.
She looked calm and resolute as she stood straight and spoke to the man who had struck her down. “You have broken the Peace of this place, dear sir, but for that transgression, you are forgiven. Now, you have one last opportunity to start your journey down the long and difficult road to redemption.”
“I want nothing of your forgiveness, or your redemption, woman. I want what is mine!”
“If you continue down the path you seem so determined to take, you needn’t worry about that, dear sir, you will most assuredly get what is yours!”
“Woman, are you threatening me? You have no power over me! Stand aside, or I will be forced to hurt you again.”
I couldn’t get up, but it didn’t mean I was going to remain silent. “Drake, you better not touch her again! Come here and fight someone your own damn size!”
All three of them ignored me.
“Sir,” Cerrydwen countered, “it is not within your power to truly harm me. So strike me if you feel you must, but I will not stand aside while those beings remained trapped within those vessels.”
He stood silent for a moment, as he was unsure of what to do. I could see his right hand clench and unclench several times before he replied. “I will not allow you to free those monsters. You don’t know what it cost me to imprison them inside those urns.”
“Whatever their crimes, you have no right to keep them imprisoned in this way. I am afraid that if you will not release them on your own, I will have to do so. You may have the vessels when they are empty.”
As he stood there mute, Cerrydwen turned her back on him and walked up to the table. She picked up a gleaming silver athame that I had not seen before and reach toward the first urn, calling out in a sing song voice in a language that even I did not recognize.
All eyes were on Cerrydwen as she drew the urn containing the spirit of Drake’s mother to her and wave the athame over it in a mesmerizing manner, chanting all of the way. The glowing blade left a trace pattern of light behind as it moved, much like the sparklers I used to wave around in my youth.
Drake had stood rock still, as if he too were caught under a spell of some sort. But his shout and quick, lunging movement forward shattered the magickal calm. He caught her wrist in his left hand, twisting it in a cruel manner that created a loud popping sound from the bones in her wrist and a soft grunt of pain from her lips. The blade slipped from her spasming fingers and fell to the ground, the glowing blade seeming to drift in slow motion to stab into the moist earth of the island.
The moment the blade plunged into the earth was also the moment that the earth gave forth a great shudder of pain. Drake staggered with the sudden shift in the ground beneath him, still holding the obviously broken wrist of Cerrydwen, as they both stumbled back from the stone table where the urns began gyrating wildly.
With a great heave the earth buckled one more time, causing the larger urn of Dracaar to tumble from the table.
Too late, Drake saw the vessel begin its fall. He cast Cerrydwen aside like a broken doll and dove in vain in an attempt to catch the urn.
The urn fell inexorably to land with it’s lead-lined but clay stoppered mouth landing on the glowing silver hit of the upright dagger. With a thunderous crack, the seal shattered...
Monday, May 22, 2006
Confrontational Guest...Part 1
The crunch of the grasses beneath his booted feet was the only sound that could be heard as Drake strode up to stand across the small camp fire from Cerrydwen. If he had noticed me, or the half dozing bear on the other end of the stone table, or even the ancient urns sitting on the table, it was impossible to tell. His face was shielded by the hood of a dark cloak that wrapped him in shadow.
I could feel that it was Drake, could tell by his stride and the manner in which he carried himself, but none of us had yet seen his face.
The silence between the two drew out, almost as if there was a contest of wills, to see who would speak first. I wasn’t able to see Cerrydwen’s face, she was standing with her back to me.
“Welcome, honored guest. Would you care to share a meal and a fire with our humble company?”
Cerrydwen’s voice was strong and clear. She had motioned with her left arm to the sticks with the cooked hare on them and back down to the fire where they were standing.
Something about her words struck me as strange, until I realized that she wasn’t speaking English, but a long forgotten language that was a precursor to Arabic. I thought to myself, how the Hell did she know how to speak that language?
Drake also seemed taken aback to hear his original native language spoken in this era, but his replied was only delayed by a couple of seconds. “You will not throw me off of my purpose with your use of arcane rituals and long dead tongues, wench. All I want from you is that which is already mine.”
“And what, dear guest, is it that you claim is yours that we have to give you here?”
“You know what is mine here.”
“I am afraid that I see nothing here that is yours, dear sir. You will have to be quite specific about any claims you may have here. ” As she spoke, the wind kicked up in strong bursts, ruffling her hair, but throwing back the hood on his cloak, revealing the pale, drawn face of Drake. “It is also customary to show oneself when asking for guest privileges.”
“Impudent bitch. I am not going to play this game with you. I came here for the urns. I will leave here with them whether you give them back to me, or I have to take them from your cold, dead fingers.”
“I would advise you, good sir, to remain civil. These discussions will go much more smoothly if you attempt to do so.”
“Look, Cerrydwen, right? That’s your name, if I remember correctly from my files.”
She nodded.
“I don’t know how you have discovered to speak this language, or what you think to accomplish by coming to this...place...and trying to invoke these rites, but I am quickly running out of patience for this game. Are you going to give me the urns, or do I have to take them?”
As he spoke, Drake had drawn himself up in height and seemed to grow in power and importance as he did so. He also had moved a step away from the fire and towards the table.
Cerrydwen stepped smoothly from behind the fire and interposed herself between Drake and the table.
I tensed my shoulders, clasped my hands into fists, frustrated in my role of forced silence. I could sense that things were about to go terribly wrong.
Cerrydwen broke the tense silence as she raised an open palm in a peaceful gesture of seeming surrender. “My dear sir, you may indeed have the urns once they have been emptied of their contents. Would you care to do the honors yourself, or shall I?”
If it were possible, Drake blanched an even paler shade of white. His lips were drawn tight over his teeth, so tight that his slightly enlarged canines seemed about to burst through his bloodless, thin lips until he spoke.
“I...don’t...think...so. Those urns must remain intact. My claim is that both the urns and their contents must be returned to me, intact and undisturbed.”
I could now see a profile of Cerrydwen’s face, could see that she had that same calm demeanor that she usually had, with the slightest hint of a smile forming as she replied.
“Sir, your claim of ownership over the urns themselves is noted, however our hostess has informed me that no claim of ownership of the contents may be recognized. You may indeed take possession of the urns themselves, but only after they have been opened and their contents released.”
In one quick motion, Drake’s right hand came up and backhanded Cerrydwen. The sound was sharp and loud as the back of his his hand smashed into her cheek, sending her flying in a seemingly boneless heap to the side.
“NNOOOO!!!!” I screamed out and lurched forward into motion.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl in that moment that Cerrydwen went flying.
As I burst into action, Drake dropped into a defensive posture, as he swung around to face me. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the large, lumbering figure of the bear come to her feet and launch herself into motion as well, coming at Drake from behind...
Relishing the idea of Drake being sandwhiched between me and that bear, I was almost glad that the peace of this place had been broken...
I could feel that it was Drake, could tell by his stride and the manner in which he carried himself, but none of us had yet seen his face.
The silence between the two drew out, almost as if there was a contest of wills, to see who would speak first. I wasn’t able to see Cerrydwen’s face, she was standing with her back to me.
“Welcome, honored guest. Would you care to share a meal and a fire with our humble company?”
Cerrydwen’s voice was strong and clear. She had motioned with her left arm to the sticks with the cooked hare on them and back down to the fire where they were standing.
Something about her words struck me as strange, until I realized that she wasn’t speaking English, but a long forgotten language that was a precursor to Arabic. I thought to myself, how the Hell did she know how to speak that language?
Drake also seemed taken aback to hear his original native language spoken in this era, but his replied was only delayed by a couple of seconds. “You will not throw me off of my purpose with your use of arcane rituals and long dead tongues, wench. All I want from you is that which is already mine.”
“And what, dear guest, is it that you claim is yours that we have to give you here?”
“You know what is mine here.”
“I am afraid that I see nothing here that is yours, dear sir. You will have to be quite specific about any claims you may have here. ” As she spoke, the wind kicked up in strong bursts, ruffling her hair, but throwing back the hood on his cloak, revealing the pale, drawn face of Drake. “It is also customary to show oneself when asking for guest privileges.”
“Impudent bitch. I am not going to play this game with you. I came here for the urns. I will leave here with them whether you give them back to me, or I have to take them from your cold, dead fingers.”
“I would advise you, good sir, to remain civil. These discussions will go much more smoothly if you attempt to do so.”
“Look, Cerrydwen, right? That’s your name, if I remember correctly from my files.”
She nodded.
“I don’t know how you have discovered to speak this language, or what you think to accomplish by coming to this...place...and trying to invoke these rites, but I am quickly running out of patience for this game. Are you going to give me the urns, or do I have to take them?”
As he spoke, Drake had drawn himself up in height and seemed to grow in power and importance as he did so. He also had moved a step away from the fire and towards the table.
Cerrydwen stepped smoothly from behind the fire and interposed herself between Drake and the table.
I tensed my shoulders, clasped my hands into fists, frustrated in my role of forced silence. I could sense that things were about to go terribly wrong.
Cerrydwen broke the tense silence as she raised an open palm in a peaceful gesture of seeming surrender. “My dear sir, you may indeed have the urns once they have been emptied of their contents. Would you care to do the honors yourself, or shall I?”
If it were possible, Drake blanched an even paler shade of white. His lips were drawn tight over his teeth, so tight that his slightly enlarged canines seemed about to burst through his bloodless, thin lips until he spoke.
“I...don’t...think...so. Those urns must remain intact. My claim is that both the urns and their contents must be returned to me, intact and undisturbed.”
I could now see a profile of Cerrydwen’s face, could see that she had that same calm demeanor that she usually had, with the slightest hint of a smile forming as she replied.
“Sir, your claim of ownership over the urns themselves is noted, however our hostess has informed me that no claim of ownership of the contents may be recognized. You may indeed take possession of the urns themselves, but only after they have been opened and their contents released.”
In one quick motion, Drake’s right hand came up and backhanded Cerrydwen. The sound was sharp and loud as the back of his his hand smashed into her cheek, sending her flying in a seemingly boneless heap to the side.
“NNOOOO!!!!” I screamed out and lurched forward into motion.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl in that moment that Cerrydwen went flying.
As I burst into action, Drake dropped into a defensive posture, as he swung around to face me. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the large, lumbering figure of the bear come to her feet and launch herself into motion as well, coming at Drake from behind...
Relishing the idea of Drake being sandwhiched between me and that bear, I was almost glad that the peace of this place had been broken...
Sunday, May 14, 2006
The Law of Hospitality...Part 2
“Rusty, we invoked the Law of Hospitality when we came to this place--asking the Spirit here to open its home to us--that same Spirit requires us to observe that same law now that there is another person coming. That Spirit makes no distinction between Drake and any other visitor. Therefore, we must observe the Law.”
“I see. So how soon will he be here?”
“He could be here any moment. This meat looks done enough for now. Come with me.”
Cerrydwen stood up, planted the butt-end of her stick into the soft earth and strode over to the table.
I followed her example with my stick and followed her.
As she turned to face me, I was again confronted directly with her near naked form. I tried to keep my eyes from wandering, focusing instead on her face.
She stood silent for a moment, closed her eyes and shuddered momentarily. When her eyes opened, they were glowing with a soft white light. Her voice, when she spoke, was more dynamic, taking on a kind of distant quality like she was using a hidden microphone.
“Have you come to this sacred island of your own free will?”
Confused for a moment, I didn’t answer immediately. “Uh...yes.”
“Why have you come?”
“I want to release...uh..the trapped spirits in these two urns.”
“You are an honored guest in this place, it is my duty to see that you are safe from harm. The Spirits within those vessels are held by magick and curses of ancient origin. As the Guardian of this place, I ask that you entrust these vessels and the Spirits contained within to my safekeeping. These beings will be released, but in a way that will insure the safety of you and my other guests. Is this acceptable to you?”
“Uh...yes, I suppose so.”
“Very well, I accept these urns and the charges they contain, in exchange for the hospitality that has been extended to you and your companions. Before you depart from this place, I will present you with gifts of my own as well.”
“OK...thanks, I guess.”
The white light faded from her eyes, Cerrydwen shuddered again and almost fell to her knees, but I caught her before she fell. She recovered quickly and was standing on her own again very quickly. When she noted my look of concern, she shrugged and flashed a quick, small smile. “It’s OK. I’m used to such visits.” She nodded back towards the beach we had landed on. “The Frau is coming back. That means Drake will have just arrived.”
I spun around to see the lumbering form of the greying black bear as it loped across the clearing towards us. As the bear approached to within ten feet of us, it stopped, sniffed at the fire and the bits of cooked hare and then shuffled off to the far side of the stone table before settling down for a nap.
“Rusty, you have now turned over responsibility for these urns to the Spirit of this place. The Spirit has asked me to welcome Drake and to deal with him. I need you to stay out of the conversation and to not interfere in any way with whatever happens. Is that clear?”
Her eyes were as intense as I had ever seen them, her expression one of grim determination. What else was there to say? “OK, I’ll try. But if things get nasty, I don’t know if I will be able to hold back.”
She stepped closer and whispered to me. “You must NOT interfere. No matter what happens. Trust in our hostess. Trust me. Now go stand on the other side of the table from the Frau. I see him coming through the woods now.”
I nodded, a tingle of suspense growing inside. Without looking back, I walked to the opposite side of the table from where the bear had settled. Once in place, I turned to see the dark form of Drake striding up to the now vulnerable looking form of Cerrydwen. For the first time, I noticed that the wind had kicked up, lending to the looming, ominous atmosphere...
“I see. So how soon will he be here?”
“He could be here any moment. This meat looks done enough for now. Come with me.”
Cerrydwen stood up, planted the butt-end of her stick into the soft earth and strode over to the table.
I followed her example with my stick and followed her.
As she turned to face me, I was again confronted directly with her near naked form. I tried to keep my eyes from wandering, focusing instead on her face.
She stood silent for a moment, closed her eyes and shuddered momentarily. When her eyes opened, they were glowing with a soft white light. Her voice, when she spoke, was more dynamic, taking on a kind of distant quality like she was using a hidden microphone.
“Have you come to this sacred island of your own free will?”
Confused for a moment, I didn’t answer immediately. “Uh...yes.”
“Why have you come?”
“I want to release...uh..the trapped spirits in these two urns.”
“You are an honored guest in this place, it is my duty to see that you are safe from harm. The Spirits within those vessels are held by magick and curses of ancient origin. As the Guardian of this place, I ask that you entrust these vessels and the Spirits contained within to my safekeeping. These beings will be released, but in a way that will insure the safety of you and my other guests. Is this acceptable to you?”
“Uh...yes, I suppose so.”
“Very well, I accept these urns and the charges they contain, in exchange for the hospitality that has been extended to you and your companions. Before you depart from this place, I will present you with gifts of my own as well.”
“OK...thanks, I guess.”
The white light faded from her eyes, Cerrydwen shuddered again and almost fell to her knees, but I caught her before she fell. She recovered quickly and was standing on her own again very quickly. When she noted my look of concern, she shrugged and flashed a quick, small smile. “It’s OK. I’m used to such visits.” She nodded back towards the beach we had landed on. “The Frau is coming back. That means Drake will have just arrived.”
I spun around to see the lumbering form of the greying black bear as it loped across the clearing towards us. As the bear approached to within ten feet of us, it stopped, sniffed at the fire and the bits of cooked hare and then shuffled off to the far side of the stone table before settling down for a nap.
“Rusty, you have now turned over responsibility for these urns to the Spirit of this place. The Spirit has asked me to welcome Drake and to deal with him. I need you to stay out of the conversation and to not interfere in any way with whatever happens. Is that clear?”
Her eyes were as intense as I had ever seen them, her expression one of grim determination. What else was there to say? “OK, I’ll try. But if things get nasty, I don’t know if I will be able to hold back.”
She stepped closer and whispered to me. “You must NOT interfere. No matter what happens. Trust in our hostess. Trust me. Now go stand on the other side of the table from the Frau. I see him coming through the woods now.”
I nodded, a tingle of suspense growing inside. Without looking back, I walked to the opposite side of the table from where the bear had settled. Once in place, I turned to see the dark form of Drake striding up to the now vulnerable looking form of Cerrydwen. For the first time, I noticed that the wind had kicked up, lending to the looming, ominous atmosphere...
Saturday, May 13, 2006
The Law of Hospitality...Part 1
(Author’s Note: This series of posts is dedicated to all mothers and the sacrifices they make--but is especially dedicated to the two mothers who were the inspiration for Cerrydwen and the Frau--Happy Mother’s Day Pat and Mom! Thanks for all that you have done and continue to do!)
Cerrydwen emerged from the woods behind the table. In one arm she was carrying a large wooden bowl filled with apples and pears. In her other arm, she was carrying the carcass of a large hare, it’s head hanging loosely at an odd angle.
As she approached, she placed the large bowl on the table next to the two urns and nodded back in the direction she had come from. “Rusty, just beyond the woodline, you will find a small cabin. I need you to go get some of the firewood next to it and the tinderbox just inside of it. Oh, and grab the flint knife next to the tinderbox as well.”
“What are you doing with all of this? I thought we were expecting Drake anytime now?”
She didn’t bother looking up at me as she responded. “Yes, he will likely be here very soon.”
“So why are we making dinner? Are you expecting to kill his ass with kindness?”
She looked up now, eyes intense, but with an aura of patience. “There are certain rituals that must be followed in this, Rusty. The Law of Hospitality must be observed, even if our expected guest is not likely to appreciate it.”
“But why should we show that killer any hospitality at all?”
“Because that is the way of this place, the way of the Spirit who keeps this place sacred. We must observe each and every one of our obligations if we are to expect the hospitality and the protection of the Spirit of this place. There are no short cuts on this. So, will you please go get those things? Our time grows shorter by the moment.”
Grumbling all the way, I went in the direction she had indicated and found a small, almost invisible path into the woods that led to a small log cabin. Stacked next to the cabin was a couple of cords of neatly chopped and split firewood. I looked inside the open door of the place and quickly located the tinderbox and a large, flat piece of flint that looked like it had a razor sharp cutting edge on one side. I picked those two things up and grabbed an armful of firewood before heading back to the clearing.
When I came back out with those things, I found Cerrydwen kneeling in front of the large stone table. She had lain out the hare to be prepared for cooking, but the more shocking thing was to realize that she was now only wearing a loincloth since she had apparently shucked her clothing in the time that I was gone.
“Let me guess, more ritual crap, eh? This whole situation is getting to be very, very strange. First, we come to this weird island where I can’t even bring my weapons. Next, the Frau goes running off nekkid to turn into a damn bear, then you tell me we’re going to cook a damn dinner in honor of Drake, of all people, and now I find you almost naked. What is it with you two and this place?”
“Give me the knife, please.” Her hand was held out to receive it, her back was still to me.
I handed her the knife, careful to place the blunt edge in her palm as I did so.
“Thank you, now if you would be so kind as to build a fire in that stone circle to your left, I will explain a little more once I have this hare skinned and gutted.”
She then set quickly to work, using the primitive stone tool as easily as if she used such things to cook with on a regular basis. Meanwhile, I set to the task of building a fire, something I hadn’t done in many, many years.
By the time I had a small but respectable blaze going, Cerrydwen joined me, holding two long sticks with parts of the skinned hare skewered on them for cooking. She handed me one, then dropped to her haunches to place her stick over the fire to begin cooking it. The fat of the critter was soon dripping into the fire, making sizzling and popping sounds as it dripped onto the burning wood.
I joined her silently, letting her decide when to speak.
After several moments of quiet interrupted only by the crackling of the fire and the night sounds of the forest, she began.
“One of the most ancient of all human laws is the Law of Hospitality. That law basically states that if a traveller comes to your camp or your home and asks for it, you are to provide them with guest privileges and to guarantee their safety while they stay with you. By requesting such privileges however, the guest also incurs certain obligations--to treat the host well and not steal from him, or to insult him, to fulfill reasonable requests for assistance if asked to do so.”
“This does sound familiar.”
“Examples of this law can be found in a lot of older literature, like Homer’s epics and the epic of Beowulf.”
“I still don’t see how any of this would apply to Drake coming here, it’s not like he’s going to ask for anything other than these urns and he likely won’t even ask for them-he’ll just try to take them.”
(To be continued)
Cerrydwen emerged from the woods behind the table. In one arm she was carrying a large wooden bowl filled with apples and pears. In her other arm, she was carrying the carcass of a large hare, it’s head hanging loosely at an odd angle.
As she approached, she placed the large bowl on the table next to the two urns and nodded back in the direction she had come from. “Rusty, just beyond the woodline, you will find a small cabin. I need you to go get some of the firewood next to it and the tinderbox just inside of it. Oh, and grab the flint knife next to the tinderbox as well.”
“What are you doing with all of this? I thought we were expecting Drake anytime now?”
She didn’t bother looking up at me as she responded. “Yes, he will likely be here very soon.”
“So why are we making dinner? Are you expecting to kill his ass with kindness?”
She looked up now, eyes intense, but with an aura of patience. “There are certain rituals that must be followed in this, Rusty. The Law of Hospitality must be observed, even if our expected guest is not likely to appreciate it.”
“But why should we show that killer any hospitality at all?”
“Because that is the way of this place, the way of the Spirit who keeps this place sacred. We must observe each and every one of our obligations if we are to expect the hospitality and the protection of the Spirit of this place. There are no short cuts on this. So, will you please go get those things? Our time grows shorter by the moment.”
Grumbling all the way, I went in the direction she had indicated and found a small, almost invisible path into the woods that led to a small log cabin. Stacked next to the cabin was a couple of cords of neatly chopped and split firewood. I looked inside the open door of the place and quickly located the tinderbox and a large, flat piece of flint that looked like it had a razor sharp cutting edge on one side. I picked those two things up and grabbed an armful of firewood before heading back to the clearing.
When I came back out with those things, I found Cerrydwen kneeling in front of the large stone table. She had lain out the hare to be prepared for cooking, but the more shocking thing was to realize that she was now only wearing a loincloth since she had apparently shucked her clothing in the time that I was gone.
“Let me guess, more ritual crap, eh? This whole situation is getting to be very, very strange. First, we come to this weird island where I can’t even bring my weapons. Next, the Frau goes running off nekkid to turn into a damn bear, then you tell me we’re going to cook a damn dinner in honor of Drake, of all people, and now I find you almost naked. What is it with you two and this place?”
“Give me the knife, please.” Her hand was held out to receive it, her back was still to me.
I handed her the knife, careful to place the blunt edge in her palm as I did so.
“Thank you, now if you would be so kind as to build a fire in that stone circle to your left, I will explain a little more once I have this hare skinned and gutted.”
She then set quickly to work, using the primitive stone tool as easily as if she used such things to cook with on a regular basis. Meanwhile, I set to the task of building a fire, something I hadn’t done in many, many years.
By the time I had a small but respectable blaze going, Cerrydwen joined me, holding two long sticks with parts of the skinned hare skewered on them for cooking. She handed me one, then dropped to her haunches to place her stick over the fire to begin cooking it. The fat of the critter was soon dripping into the fire, making sizzling and popping sounds as it dripped onto the burning wood.
I joined her silently, letting her decide when to speak.
After several moments of quiet interrupted only by the crackling of the fire and the night sounds of the forest, she began.
“One of the most ancient of all human laws is the Law of Hospitality. That law basically states that if a traveller comes to your camp or your home and asks for it, you are to provide them with guest privileges and to guarantee their safety while they stay with you. By requesting such privileges however, the guest also incurs certain obligations--to treat the host well and not steal from him, or to insult him, to fulfill reasonable requests for assistance if asked to do so.”
“This does sound familiar.”
“Examples of this law can be found in a lot of older literature, like Homer’s epics and the epic of Beowulf.”
“I still don’t see how any of this would apply to Drake coming here, it’s not like he’s going to ask for anything other than these urns and he likely won’t even ask for them-he’ll just try to take them.”
(To be continued)
Sunday, May 07, 2006
Anticipation...
I finished brushing off the debris from the massive stone table and cast aside the worn out pine branch that I used to finish it. Maybe ten minutes had passed since Cerrydwen disappeared back into the woods, but I couldn’t be sure.
It seemed more like an eternity.
I knelt down beside the duffle bag, unzipped it, and pulled out the smaller of the two urns.
This was the urn that was inscribed with the ancient image of Tiamat, a seven-headed sea serpent. It was about the size of a bowling ball, but more oblong in shape. It was cast out of bronze, now weathered badly. The cuneiform inscriptions along the bottom of the image of Tiamat were worn almost to the point of being indecipherable, but as I looked at the words formed by the strange markings, their meaning crystallized in my mind-- “This vessel contains the remains and the immortal soul of Madeena, servant of Tiamat, consort of Dracaar. Cursed is he who disturbs the sentence of this criminal.”
As those words turned in my mind, I set that urn up on the stone table, reaching down to pull the other, larger one out of the bag. The second urn was not decorated in any fashion, no stylized images of serpents, gods, or creatures graced this thing, yet as I held it, it felt heavier, more...important.
Despite the lack of ornamentation, this urn was also inscribed with cunieform markings that spelled out a dire warning-- “Cursed is the bloodline of he who breaks the seal on this vessel. Doom, Death and Destruction to any who violate4 this sacred seal.”
I set the second urn up on the stone table as well and stood facing them, contemplating what actually would happen when they were opened. I felt a small chill deep inside. The anticipation was horrible...
(Dear readers--my apologies for the small post, but circumstances this week have prevented me from writing further. Look for a burst of posts to take place starting Thursday, May 11.--DSP)
It seemed more like an eternity.
I knelt down beside the duffle bag, unzipped it, and pulled out the smaller of the two urns.
This was the urn that was inscribed with the ancient image of Tiamat, a seven-headed sea serpent. It was about the size of a bowling ball, but more oblong in shape. It was cast out of bronze, now weathered badly. The cuneiform inscriptions along the bottom of the image of Tiamat were worn almost to the point of being indecipherable, but as I looked at the words formed by the strange markings, their meaning crystallized in my mind-- “This vessel contains the remains and the immortal soul of Madeena, servant of Tiamat, consort of Dracaar. Cursed is he who disturbs the sentence of this criminal.”
As those words turned in my mind, I set that urn up on the stone table, reaching down to pull the other, larger one out of the bag. The second urn was not decorated in any fashion, no stylized images of serpents, gods, or creatures graced this thing, yet as I held it, it felt heavier, more...important.
Despite the lack of ornamentation, this urn was also inscribed with cunieform markings that spelled out a dire warning-- “Cursed is the bloodline of he who breaks the seal on this vessel. Doom, Death and Destruction to any who violate4 this sacred seal.”
I set the second urn up on the stone table as well and stood facing them, contemplating what actually would happen when they were opened. I felt a small chill deep inside. The anticipation was horrible...
(Dear readers--my apologies for the small post, but circumstances this week have prevented me from writing further. Look for a burst of posts to take place starting Thursday, May 11.--DSP)
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