Hawkmoon (The Hawkmoon Chronicles) (30 page)

They passed an opening and looked up at the stars. Water ran from a slope. Before Gash could warn him Odo ran to it, plunging his face, sucking mouthfuls. Nothing happened. The others joined him. Movement in the bushes drew their attention. Two rabbits scurried for cover. One got away but Tar killed the other with a rock. They skinned it and ate it raw. Odo smelt the air.  A musky scent from below, borne on the breeze; a large animal of some kind.. Leaving the sorcerer to chew on bones, the twins went to one side, Slot and Gash to the other A herd of deer grazed on the slope. Gash watched them, thinking how to bring one down. They had no weapons and were in no condition for a long hunt. He noticed the slope at the other side ended in a sharp line. Gravity would do what they could not. The twins could not come from that direction but neither could their smell. Gash whispered to Slot The reiver   started down and around.  He waited until Slot was in position and stood running up the slope, waving . The herd bolted. Most of them came back down ignoring both reivers. Two ran for the drop, one veering away in time but the last jumped into space and dropped with a bleating cry.

                                                   What Dreams May Come.

The line flew across the water . He tried to bring it down short of the bank  but it stretched  to a bush on the far side The flies were caught and not in a place where they could be recovered.. Four  out of five times the line would come loose or he could wade across. Not today. The line was wrapped on a  bush and neither gentle tugs nor  strong pulls would dislodge it. The rod formed a U and still it held. Without warning it  parted from the tree and flew across.  Before he wound it back he knew  they were gone.  He had more at the apartment for all the good they were.He waded  the rushing current, careful not to slip on the rocks  beneath. It wouldn’t do to have an accident this far out.

The sausages   were greasy and delicious. He could have brought them cooked   from the house but there was something about food cooked in the open…Pouring hot water from the saucepan he made coffee. The air was cool with the promise of rain. . He had a sleeping bag, bought in a yard sale.  Putting the  book aside he closed his eyes.

Black  wind  across frozen fields. He wore  a military  greatcoat; soaked and muddy…  A    woman came  out of the blizzard. She was thin, barefoot, her hair tied back. Standing close  she grasped his hands in both of hers. His vision  went in a burst of light. The same  woman,  well fleshed , in a city among people with faces like hers. He felt her thoughts…A child, left in  the care of people with bright smiles and cold eyes. A liason with a man whose soul was corrupt, who served another who had no soul... He could smell her breath as she leant closer.“There is a tower in the centre of  the city”  She giggled, fading into darkness .    .

Outline of buildings. The wind had swept the roads clean of snow. Frozen  to powder  particles of snow rasped against his face.He stood at  the edge of a frozen harbour  A stone tower at the quay, a narrow door; inside  a circular staircase winding up. He started climbing. After a  time  he heard . ..Looking  back he saw a young girl, dark hair, dark eyes and a man that looked  exactly like him. They were trying to get past but he wouldn’t let them. He climbed faster . He reached the top , emerging in  a circular room with a polished wooden floor. Some people stood around looking out  through narrow windows. He crossed the floor excited at the chance of seeing the city. Looking through the embrasure , there was nothing of the town below. He found himself looking into the room from a point outside ..  Directly opposite he could see the back of his   head as he looked out.

Three girls came up from the river, dressed in filmy clothing, moulded to their breasts and thighs. Two sat  on a low branch, singing.  One  knelt by him , lowered her mouth to his. Her lips were cold.

He woke to commotion in the water. The surface was churning.. A salmon  threw  itself onto the bank.. It lay on the sand, gasping. For a moment he  thought.
Salmon don’t run on this  river.
.  He lifted it back in the water. It slipped below the surface, remained still for a moment then flashed away in a burst of silver. Another fish jumped out, landing with a thud.. He returned it.  A third launched itself from the depths. He was on the point of returning it when he realized  he was hungry. Fashioning a griddle with sticks he  placed it over the coals. Sunlight  broke through the gloom. The riverbank was bright, where the sun came through. He reached for the salmon and burnt his fingers. He sucked at his thumb..

A small face stared at him from the bushes; an old woman wearing a cap   made of straw. He called to her but she hid. When he came to the place where she had been watching he heard running further back. He tried to follow but gave up after a while. He returned to the fire. The fish  was gone eaten to the bone.. He doused the fire.

                                                             The Desert Born.

The sand was flat, calm and innocent. They hammered with the butts of spears. Rocks thrown, from its edge brought no response. Elves were lightfooted enough to cross snow with barely an imprint. Could the same happen on sand?.... Maleen  ventured  out on the dunes..Without warning the sand erupted. A  sinuous form the reared its head from the depths..  Cut off from the company Maleen sprinted to a flat rock where he scrambled for safety. It turned waving its eyeless head.

They stood in a group debating what to do. Encouraged by shouts from the others waiting by the trees Maleen stepped close to the edge and lifted an experimental foot.  An explosion of dust threw him scrambling backwards... Ecker despatched an elf  up the edge and another down. At a signal they stepped  onto the sand. An explosion of dust blanketed the southernmost elf. The elves shouted for him  until he emerged from the cloud spitting dust.

Maleen sat  on the sun warmed rock.  He could see his friends staring  at him, helpless. He blamed himself; always the most daring. Now he would pay for it. He could see them  with armfuls of dry wood for the nightcamp. They would stay  there  in the hours of darkness, waiting, watching for a chance for him to run twenty paces  to safety. They would wait in vain.

Maleen listened to their talk as  they  debated  how to rescue him. They would  spread  out on  the edge and make short runs onto the sand until the monster was  confused.  Ecker  refused to consider it. It would put them all in jeopardy, not just one. How many of the smaller worms waited  beneath the sand? A number of plans were proposed, debated and rejected. They fell into a sad quiet, contemplating the death of their friend. Finally they turned to the ranger who counselled them to have patience.

Pipe music reached Hawkmoon and he woke. The Elves were standing in a group, faces gripped with awe. Following  their eyes he turned to  the dunes. In the sunrise giant worms arched from the sand in a row either side of a path that led from where Maleen had passed  the night . Weird blue lights flickered and buzzed   on the sides. The air smelt like it would after lightning. Maleen walked to them from his rock prison. Holding his hand a young girl skipped her way beside him. In her other hand she held a set of carved pipes. She stepped onto the hard pan. His friends gathered round Maleen laughing and cheering. Others looked back eyes riveted on the monsters. She curtsied when the Elves applauded. She moved to Hawkmoon, taking him by the hand.  He  turned to Ecker who  bowed gravely.

“Fair winds, Elf Friend. I’ll warrant the sights that await you have not been seen for time out of mind”

She led him onto the sand. They made their way out to where Maleen had passed the night.  Hawkmoon gazed at the blue flame that hissed and crackled on a midline around their massive bodies. The others retracted into the sand leaving the largest. She stopped in front of it. It rolled from the depths until its length was exposed in the morning light, its back was as wide as the deck of a galleon. Its flanks were indented with overlapping plates. It started to roll. He went to pull her away but she gripped his hand with surprising strength. The giant ceased its movement. She went to the side where a rope ladder came down. Hawkmoon turned calling to the Chattto.

“Stay here. I will send for you”

Others waited above; three men and two women. One approached the edge and bowed to Chatto. With a clanking of plates the giant turned away pushing a bow wave of sand. The Elves gazed as the worm breasted the dune to disappear in the desert

                                                                      Norma

She was sick on Monday.  She rang back on Wednesday to say that she was ok if he wanted to call over. There was a Thai noodle place on Montrose. He  brought a bottle of Chilean wine and a book of  the poems of William Carlos Williams.

She opened the door with her broken hands, shadows beneath her eyes... Norma Jean  Rayburn had a Masters in American Folklore from the University of Colorado. She was a year into a doctorate in Philosophy . Some days she could not touch the keyboard.

He met Norma at the library where she worked part time. They talked about books and discovered  a shared passion for American Literature.  As they parted Cyril grasped her hand. Her face went deathly pale. She lived in a duplex backing onto   Mission Park. They talked as he laid out the food.  Books they had read films they had seen. …

She had a walking cane topped with an ivory carving of some exotic creature.... Norma was a good listener. She never gave advice; just sat there listening, swollen hands resting on her walking stick. The one she got from her friend in Mexico.

Dinner over she made green tea. Norma was sitting deep in her chair, eyes closed, a soft smile on her face.“ What?” He asked finally.

“There is   great power in this room. It’s not me.  Has anything strange happened? She gazed at Cyril. In the years of their friendship he felt at times that she knew him better than he did himself.

“I’ve been having odd dreams”

“Have you been keeping your journal?”

“I‘ve missed a few ...   “

Taking a writing pad from the mantelpiece she started to make notes. When he finished she asked questions. Were there marks, scars, tattoos? What about colours? Could he remember sounds? Did anyone or anything speak?

They were quiet for more than ten minutes. At one point she appeared to be sleeping. Finally his curiosity got the better of him.

“I didn’t write a word but I remember most of it. Why is that?”

“Usually I let you work it out. But change is coming for both of us   so I will try to summarize. Some dreams are Numinous. They are life dreams. This  could be one... The Tower is a phallic symbol. In the dream it is more than that. You ascend through a circular movement…Combined symbols are more powerful than either when separate….The circle of the Mandala combined  with  the symbol of Ascension…Yeat’s Perne in a Gyre…

The figures on the stairs were guides. They were there to help .Instead you turned your back on them. The outcome was that when you reached the top you had lost the chance to gain your heart’s desire. You found yourself looking at the back of your own head.” Norma shook her head.” So elegant…”

“What is it about?”

“The dream is about competition. You don’t play competitive sports but you are a competitor. You compete against yourself. It is a positive trait but not in relation to what is seeking to make itself known through your dreams. There you must be humble and you must listen. Neither of these are qualities men are known for.”

They sat quiet for several minutes.  “The women, what can you remember about them?”

“They were almost identical. Except the one that stayed by me had an amulet of some kind. With a stone inlay, maybe turquoise... I have thought about it... At first I thought it was a sex dream. Three beautiful women, practically naked. ..I don’t think so now. They were, sorrowful. As if they were grieving ...?”

Norma placed her cup on a side table“…Ancient   cultures  speak of   the Water Master. He is a fish herder and lies up in the depths. He  has three daughters. They like to sit in trees singing and drown careless men who  come  too close Yet they came out of their domain to reach you. Two sat in the trees, one kissed you but not, as you say in a sexual way .Three is a powerful number. When three women come together they can be for good or they can bring catastrophe. I have no means of knowing what it will be for you.

The fish moves between the surface world and the abyss. Sometimes it returns with treasure.  A fish was thrown at your feet. Literally offered to you. You spurned the gift. A second was offered. If you had refused the third offer, there would not have been a fourth.

There is a legend of Finn McCool, the Irish hero. He was walking by a river when  he met an old man roasting a salmon on a spit. The old man asked him to watch the fish while he went for timber .He warned Finn not to eat  any of the fish until he returned. Time passed and Finn waited. The spit broke and fell in to the fire. Finn went to catch it. He sucked his fingers to ease the burn. When the old man returned he was angry. He accused Finn of going against his orders and eating the salmon.  The fish was the Salmon of Knowledge .The one who first tasted its flesh would know all the secrets of the world above and below. They would speak with gods and spirits. From that day Finn  came into possession of great magical power.

Dreams are all about balance. Marie Louise Von Franz wrote about the eternal boy, the one who refuses to grow up. It describes many American men. It has little to do with age. Some men achieve balance at eighteen; others are looking for it in their seventies.

You are a nice boy but you are naïve. You want a quiet life but you are not going to get it.  You have been given a gift. Gifts are not given lightly. You will be expected to show a return on the investment. Whose investment, God… Fate…Evolution, I don’t know. The important thing is to give up your naivety. The dream about the Tower is a warning. It says, the world is not a safe place. Pay attention.

The dream of the frozen land starts by taking a direction then switching to another. Very common in dreams. You are alone on a winter landscape . The frozen ground represents the ground of your being It is a warning from your Spirit; your life is frozen, your feelings, your capacity for relationship with yourself or others is numb. Dreams are all about balance. Something within us  is aware of an essential wrongness in our being. It seeks to redress the balance by speaking through our dreams. We are our own best therapists/The first part of the dream has a flow to it, the second… It is like you are looking into someone else’s dream. The woman on the street who talks to you… Someone speaking directly to you in a dream is important.   I don’t know. I could offer  my opinions but I have done too much of that already. You need to get back to keeping your dream journal.”

“What about the woman at the river?”

“Spider Woman is a powerful figure among the tribes of the American Southwest . She is important   in the lore of the Navaho the Hopi and the Keresan. She is a protective spirit, a giver of gifts to those she favours. To her people she gave the  gifts of Agriculture, Weaving and Pottery. Before starting work weavers would rub their hands in spider webs to invoke her magic. She teaches survival skills to human warriors. In the creation story of the Navajo she helped the warrior brothers, Monster Slayer and Child of Water to find their father.

Tawa, the Sun God created beings to be placed in the first World. He was unhappy  with them  so he sent Spider Woman to lead them to the Second and then to the Third. But sorcerers brought evil  to the Third World so Spider Woman told the people to leave and find the Fourth; this world.”

“I’m not Navajo”

“Cyril.You slept by a river that flows through land walked and hunted over by Navaho. Hopi, Zuni and other tribes.   A time of change is  coming for you.  You have to put away childish things. You could try to keep your head down and let it all blow over but I have a feeling it’s too late for that”

They talked with the door open, Norma wrapped in a  shawl.” The things that go on in this town… Not many are aware and most of those who suspect would rather not think about any of it. If anything happens talk to the Sherriff. I am going to ask him to keep an eye on you.”

When he left Norma poured coffee into a flask and took it out on to the balcony. Her apartment was ten feet above the park with a stone wall between. The fingers of her left hand were starting to ache. As she waited the burning moved to her legs. Shortly her left knee was on fire. For some reason the Arthritis had never affected that knee. Every joint but not that knee. A white mist flowed around the trees

The pains eased leaving her to doze until the sound of   tinkling harness woke her. A caravan with horses  following   rolled up the side path  A rangy  looking man dressed in buckskins handled the reins. A young girl was seated next to him. They passed to be hidden in the gathering mist.