The Stone of Lamfedios

The Stone of Lamfedios 8

- 8 -

 From out of the floor of the chamber a young, fair head seemed to appear, followed by shoulders, waist, and legs. The emerald gown in which she was clad clung tightly to her. Gemma guessed that there must be some steps in the corner of the Council chamber through which the teenager had appeared. The girl smiled as she walked across to Charia, who put her arm around her, giving her an affectionate hug. 'Gemma, this is my daughter Terria, she will take you to your room. There are steps within the cliff that our children use, they will be safer for you than the climbing ways we use, she indicated the door through which Tiarnis and the Council members had entered.

 With a sense that this was unreal and yet so tangible, Gemma followed Terria. She had made her choice and was now somehow inexplicably linked to the events of this strange world.

 At the top of the steep descent, Terria handed Gemma a flaming brand which shed a flickering light on the darkened rooms they passed through. At the top of each of the endless series of steps, down which Terria dashed, Gemma occasionally paused. A sense of distorted reality returned as she glimpsed stars through open windows, yet she could not recognise any of the constellations. Her eyes, more used to an even electric glare, were not accustomed to the warm spluttering glow that illuminated her cautious descent. With a faintly smoke filled view she kept her free hand against the side wall. The flaming torch, with a honey like odour, burning brightly in the other, giving just enough light to see a few steps below her nervous feet.

 With a musical laugh and a bow that was full of fun, Terria suddenly announced that they had arrived at Gemma's room. She lit three more brands, set in wall brackets then, placed her own in an empty one. By this light Gemma could see similarities with the huge room she had recently left. Although much smaller, it too was carved out of the cliff and on the wall hung bright tapestries. In the corner a bed had been laid out. It was covered with animal skins and bright coloured blankets. The top one was decorated with a pattern of vividly coloured flowers so realistic that they looked like a woodland glade. Just below the high, unglazed window was a low table, around which several cushions had been scattered. Terria poured her a delicious fruity drink.

  She sat by Terria and looked out of the window at a huge orange moon. Its irregularly cratered surface gave Gemma the impression that it had acne. She giggled at this thought. Her companion looked curiously at her, as if she was trying to read her thoughts.

 'I'm sorry,' said Gemma. 'I didn't mean to be rude about your moon. But it did look as if it has bad skin.'

 Terria giggled too. 'I've never looked at it that way before. Grandmother moon with wrinkles.'

 'No. Spots.'

 'Pardon?'

 'You know? Spots. The sort you get when you've eaten too much chocolate.'

 'Oh. But Grandmother is very old. I'm sure she no longer has spots like us young ones.'

 Gemma giggled again, and Terria was caught in its infectiousness and they both laughed.

 'What is chockat ?' said Terria. 'Is it something bad for you?'

'If you eat too much it will make you feel ill, or fat; really fat if you've just pigged out on it. But its tasty, the best sweet I know. Mmmm!'

 Terria was silent for a while then she said, 'Perhaps its like Perarty fruit. The adults eat that to be happy, too much and they are sick.'

 'Maybe,' Gemma agreed. She was thinking how different the two worlds were. How would she understand what was required of her? The language was the same. She could understand it completely. But the ideas behind the words were so different.

 There were many things she wanted to talk to Terria about. But Gemma turned to see her collecting a torch. 'I have to go. My mother told me that you needed to rest, that you have a long journey tomorrow if you want to help us. Thank you.' She rushed across the small room, giving Gemma a warm, light kiss on her cheek, before disappearing up the steep staircase.

 Now she was on her own. From out of her jeans pockets she took her two stones. The gift from Tiarnis, as he called it, remained dark and glossy, rather like a polished, amber-stained flint. She put it on the table and turned her snowflake stone in her fingers. It seemed now, no more than an intricately carved lifeless piece of rock. She put it on the table and looked out of the window at the large orange moon. Perhaps they were wrinkles after all.

 She thought she would try the bed. As she neared it she was aware of the sweet, fresh smell of spring flowers. Gemma carefully lifted the top cover, lay down and closed her eyes.

 In the large chamber, high above Gemma's room, the Council talked long into the night. The decisions made would affect not only those present and their relations, but the destiny of the whole planet, and worlds beyond.

 There was no time to waste apportioning blame or in seeking honourable duties merely to gain clan status. With the revelation of the Stone of Lamfedios to its Keeper, came a call for sacrifice. A challenge issued when the land was young. The price of friendship with the great and ancient powers within the long formed rocks was now to be reckoned.  

 Gemma's decision had been welcomed by the council, but with it came many questions. Who should guide her when she set out to fulfil her destiny? Which direction should she take? How could the Council best protect her? How long would the quest take? How would the members know if she had returned the stone? What would happen if she failed?

 In the distance Gemma, whose ears were growing accustomed to the soft natural noises of this strange world, could hear hushed whispering and the occasional scuff of supple footwear on the climbing ways outside her window. Exhausted Councillors were making their way to welcoming beds in the last hours of darkness.  

 From that hazy region, between consciousness and sleep, she could also hear a musical tinkling sound drifting from the direction of the table. It reminded her of a mountain stream. The torches were still burning giving the room a warm red glow. Gemma raised herself onto one elbow and was aware that a blue light was emanating from the mystical Stone like a mist.

 The flames on the brands grew smaller, their brilliance diminished. The blue light intensified, casting a familiar pattern on the wall, just above the window. But this time it tracked across the ceiling to a corner at the rear of her room. Each time it hovered, then returned to its original position above the window; shimmering for a short time before repeating its trajectory.

 'What on earth does this mean?' thought Gemma.

 As if in answer a feeling of warm summer days spread through her and with it her mind filled with a landscape of bright wild flowers. There was a faint odour of honey, and a deep, buzzing in her ears. 'The honey dance of the bees. That's it!' she thought. 'Perhaps that's the direction I should be taking?' At that moment 'Journey,' was the word which formed itself very clearly in her head. Then, repeated itself twice more in a deep breathy voice. Like a stream meeting momentary resistance, before it bubbled over well worn boulders in the spate. Then suddenly the blue light disappeared. The lamps burned brightly, once again filling the room with a golden glow.

 Gemma settled back into her bed. That was it she thought. In the morning she would tell the Elders what had happened. Tomorrow she would start on her journey, and in the direction of that corner of her room. With the sun rise she could tell where that would be. She suddenly remembered that this was not her world. This sun may rise and set differently to that of her own planet.

 She fell asleep dreaming of women in long bright dresses with golden belts, and men who could do magic with stones. She did not see the eye looking into her room from the dark stone that Tiarnis had sent to her.