The Priestess

by Amethyst Gray

  Messima, as The Priestess of the Light and the Waters, anointed her father’s face and limbs with a profusion of olive oil, lavender and herbs.

  She turned to the crowd and taking the lit torch, exalted “Now I return to the light - Amun-Ra”.

  She took the torch and lit the four corners of the woodpile. As she did so, the Sun began to set in the West, and the flames overtook the shape of Oriel’s body.

  The family and close friends of Oriel stayed around the funeral pyre singing traditional songs of great deeds and magical journeys from the past. As the flames died down a torch was lit from the pyre to light the small fire where a lamb was to be spit-roasted for the final feast. The festivities and the formal process went on until dawn.

  At first light, the remains of the funeral pyre could be seen. The ashes - still warm - were swept up using yew tree brooms and put into a funeral vase. Once all the ashes were swept up, and the jar was full, it was lifted on to the saddle of the grey donkey - as was traditional.

  The remaining funeral party members gave their leave of Messima. They then headed back towards Medina. Only Néma remained with the Priestess and the donkey as they prepared for the trek towards the wood where Oriel’s ashes were to be scattered. Néma hugged her companion as they both set off northwards

  VIII - The Woods

  It was with some relief that the donkey finally arrived at the edge of the woods. The searing heat of a glorious autumn day had sapped at Messima’s strength. Now nearly midday the green-brown foliage of the oak woods provided a refreshing sanctuary for the Priestess and her companion. Pausing briefly under the dappled canopy the two women drank fresh water from a leather bottle while the donkey drank from a slow running brook.

  “Only a little way to go now” whispered Messima - her words broken up by a cuckoo announcing its presence.

  “It is just as well. You look terrible.” Said Néma.

  “Thanks” responded Messima. It was true. The ceremonies, funeral pyre and long trek, had all taken their toll on her. Messima’s best robe was now covered in a thin layer of dust; her blonde hair was tangled and matted, her face had a slight touch of soot, except under her hazel-brown eyes where tears had washed it away. Néma had fared somehow better. Her white robe was still bright, the corded sash around her slim waist, providing a sharp contrast.

  “Here, let me fix you up a bit”. Néma gently took out a small piece of cloth, poured a tiny amount of water onto it and gently mopped her companion’s face. “That’s better.”

  “Thanks, Ne.”.

  Ten minutes later, the path widened out into a clearing. A gentle rushing sound of water filled the air and grew louder as the party neared their destination – Rainbow Falls. Not large by any means but not diminished in their beauty the falls helped to drain Lake Komo as the water made its way to join the Nile several metres lower down. The lake itself, although not visible from below the falls, formed a natural break in the vast Atlantean escarpment to the north of Medina into the south of the capital Atlán. Rainbow Falls marked the lake’s south-east tip. The falls dropped some 20 to 25 metres into a plunge pool surrounded by the forest clearing in the Great Woods. Around the plunge pool, large boulders deposited by the last ice age provided seats for the companions to rest upon.

  After a brief pause, Messima stood up. “It is time". She said. As she was unsealing the top of the funeral vase, she started to hum. Néma joined in as the two friends walked around the edge of the clearing. The Priestess gently shook the contents – Oriel’s ashes – so that they caught the slight breeze and were spread all around the clearing and into the edge of the woods. When the vase was empty, she took it and smashed it against one of the central rocks in the clearing. Then she took a small pointed spade out from the donkey’s saddlebag and proceeded to bury the broken vase under the edge of the rock. “ It is done. Praise to the deity. Thanks to Gaia. Amun-Ra.”

  “Amun-Ra" echoed Néma.

  The ceremony over, the two women disrobed and plunged straight into the pool below the falls. It was good for Messima to unwind after the last two days.

  Néma gently embraced her friend to show her that she was not on her own. After diving, splashing and frolicking, it was nearly time to head back.

  Drying off on towels from the saddlebag, the companions ate simple snacks of fruits and biscuits with hard cheese. Then they tapped the donkey to start the journey back.

  IX – The Adventure

  Messima and Néma returned the donkey to its stable and arrived back at their home. The tall tower with its white-sanded walls stood out from the dusky skyline. The beacon on an islet just out to sea was already shining brightly, its crystal globe warning approaching ships of the dangerous cliffs, the rocks and approaches to the mouth of the Nile. A crystal cutter laden with tea, cotton or spices was racing the darkness as its Captain manoeuvred the ship into position to enter the channel through the cliffs.

  Weary from their travels, the friends unbolted the door and entered the base of the tower. The crystal lights increased their glow as the two companions went inside. Messima retired to her meditation room to relax while Néma performed her duties in preparing herbal tea. Néma placed the rosemary, jasmine and camomile infusion into two large obsidian beakers, their oversized saucer acting as handles as she picked them up in turn and filled them with natural hot spring water (a significant advantage that volcanic Atlantis held over many other parts of the world). She took the beaker to her mistress and sat beside her. Their official status spoke little of their real relationship.

  Messima sat in a near Lotus position on a thick mat of woven hemp on the white marble floor. Behind her, the nearly human-sized quartz crystal generator was starting to pulse in violet, green and indigo hues as the Priestess made contact with it. Soon she was in a deep trance - images of days passed mingling with those of the future. One picture and voice stood out amongst the rest.

  Marnon was Messima’s paternal cousin who lived with her uncle Joslin on Atlantis Minor. The colonies had been a popular destination for many Atlanteans. Still, the southern island with its strange animals such as penguins, toucans and wild elephant herds were popular with naturalists such as her uncle. Messima had holidayed there several times in her youth. Now Marnon had decided to contact her to give her his condolences no doubt and more family gossip. Thinking his name loudly in her mind, his voice came through crystal clear.

  “Sorry to hear about Unc. Now his brother’s acting oddly - can you come down here and see what’s up - we would love to have you. And yes, ‘She’ can come.”

  Messima responded with her greeting and her agreement to come straight away but snorted as she broke contact. Unwinding from her trance, she took hold of her beaker and took a large sip.

  “Ne, we are going away. We are seeing Marnon.”

  “Great” replied Néma sarcastically. She knew that Marnon was jealous of her relationship with Messima and didn’t approve of her as Messima's concubine. Things must be up to be invited to Marnon's house.

  Exhausted, the companions retired to bed.

  ***

  And now here we are nearing Atlantis Minor thought Messima. She had arranged passage for herself and Néma on a crystal cutter. They had boarded the next day from their semi-private quay beneath the cliffs at the gully just before the exit from the Nile into the South Atlantic Ocean. The crystal cutter was a moderate size with a comfortable private cabin for a couple of passengers. The crossing was uneventful and storm-free in the warmth of early autumn.

  Messima thought she recognised Marnon standing on the quayside. He had always been sensitive to her thoughts and must have picked up on her approach.

  The crystal cutter Nemesis with its beautiful gilded figurehead of two dolphins and Poseidon’s trident edged into the quayside. Its crystal mast with the equilateral cross on a circle symbol emblazoned upon a giant flag in the centre of the ship contrasted against the dark mahogany of the wooden planking. Its long, sleek lines and relatively low draft
allowed it to operate in both shallow estuaries and deep water via a keel that could be lowered down.

  Torino, the main port in Atlantis Minor, was also the largest town. Messima’s uncle Joslin lived to the south of the city with his wife and son Marnon. Marnon, like his father, was a Crystalmancer.

  Crystalmancers were specialist geologists who dowsed and searched for the best seams of crystal formations deep under the ground. Atlantis Minor had abundant deposits of large quartz and amethyst crystals deep beneath the crust as well as more accessible seams sloping up towards the surface. The shallow seams once mined out acted as the conduits to access the deeper deposits. It was near one such conduit that Joslin’s family lived.

  From the quayside, Marnon waved to Messima. She responded by waving back and moving towards the ship’s gangway. As soon as the crystal cutter docked Marnon rushed up the stairway to greet the Priestess and her concubine.

  Marnon was about the same age as Messima and shared the same hazel-brown eyes and blonde hair as his cousin. Since their fathers were twin brothers, Messima and Marnon could easily have passed for brother and sister.

  During the many summers of childhood that the cousins spent together either on the plains of Atlantis or in the wilderness of Atlantis Minor, the two of them were often mistaken for siblings by passers-by or by visitors to their respective parents.

  When Messima had decided to join the priesthood, Marnon had tried his best to dissuade her. When she had taken Néma as her concubine, Marnon had been so shocked that the cousins had barely spoken in the seven years since.

  Now, as Messima and Marnon embraced, it seemed as if they had never been apart. Even Néma was given a warm hug - much to her surprise and shock. Marmon lifted the Priestess’ backpack and hoisted it onto his back.

  “Come, it is such a lovely day. I thought we could all walk back and get reacquainted on route to the house.”

  “Tell me, what is this all about Mar?”

  The Crystalmancer paused, opened his mouth, then closed it again without saying anything more.

  It was once the Cousins were out of earshot away from the port that Marnon spoke again.

  “Things have been happening Mes. Bad things. We feel it in the crystals. A darkness is rising. You must feel it too.”

  Messima nodded. She had felt a disquiet in her meditations with the crystal arrays over the last few weeks. Some of her healings had failed or needed to be redone when before they had always succeeded. It was as if the harmony of Atlantis was going out of tune.

  “I think it’s the visitors.”

  “But surely they have been so kind to us?”

  “Too kind,” replied Marnon.

  The visitors had arrived unannounced one day at the Capital Atlán. They called themselves ‘The Watchers’ and had brought gifts for the administrative council, including a mechanical man. Reptilian in appearance they had approached the assembly with the story that they were descendants of the great lizards who once roamed the whole Earth but had left after a great disaster. They had watched as humans had blossomed into the civilisation of the great age of Atlantis. Now they were ready to embark upon even better periods alongside them. The council had been enthralled, but the Priesthood had been more cautious in their praises.

  The visitors had claimed to be the gods of old – but in the stories, the gods had always glowed with joy and love, and yet the visitors did not. The visitors said it was because humans were now too sophisticated to be held in awe, so they now appeared as equals amongst us. It seemed to make sense. And yet…

  “Two months ago, on the eve of the arrival of the visitors, dad had a vision. He saw the destruction of Atlantis. He saw a terrible disturbance in the Earth. The heavens fell. The waters rose and washed everything away. The ice came and covered Torino. When he awoke, he had a terrible fever. I believe that Unc was first taken sick the same day.”

  Messima nodded.

  As the Cousins chatted, Néma daydreamed. She had never been to ‘Minor but had heard so much about it from Messima. She could see the mountains in the distance, the dusky autumnal sunlight bathing the red sandstone in gold. The pyramidal shape of the main temple marked the southern extreme of the settlement and their final destination next to the crystal mine.

  Néma suddenly felt a tightening of her hand as Messima squeezed it in a sudden panic as two strangers looked at them. The strangers were the visitors or ‘The Watchers’ as they called themselves. It was the first time that the two women had seen them in the flesh. It obviously wasn’t a pleasant experience for Messima, as she passed out.

  An hour later, the Priestess woke up on a reclining chair in her uncle’s house.

  “You had us worried back there Mes," said Néma. “Take it easy, and I will fetch you some tea."

  “Let me” interjected Marnon.

  Néma sat back down on the seat between Messima and Messima’s aunt Augustine. Augustine and Néma had been discussing art and admiring Joslin’s portfolio. The latest addition was a complete contrast to the bright and airy paintings of nature. It was a disturbing dark image of a figure standing in a state of heightened anguish.

  “Dad painted it that night after his nightmare. He calls it ‘the onset of night’. It gives me the creeps.”

  Everyone sat silently looking at the painting. Messima started coughing.

  “I’ll get you that tea.” Marnon disappeared and reappeared shortly afterwards with a cut crystal beaker of tea.

  “Thanks,” gasped the Priestess as she took a gulp of the camomile tea.

  In the colonies of Atlantis, the absence of hot spring water meant that solar boilers or crystal heaters were used for heating water. The water here was extracted from boreholes in amongst the crystal seams. The refreshing water seemed energetically charged. It certainly revived Messima who got up and moved closer to her aunt.

  “How are you feeling Mes?” Chorused Néma and Marnon unintentionally in Unison.

  “Better,” she replied.

  “You are not the only one to faint near The Watchers. Our priests have recorded the same reaction. What did you feel just before you passed out?” asked Marnon.

  “Despair, desolation and dread. I’d locked eyes with one of those guys and saw just darkness.”

  “Our new friends appear to have some secret dark side to their public generosity. They are offering to train Atlanteans in their ways. I can’t think it’s a good thing.” spoke Marnon.

  Just as the group was starting to speculate about The Watchers. Joslin appeared from his room. “Butterfly. How marvellous. And you must be Néma. I’ll call you ‘Moth'. You can’t have a better companion than our little Butterfly.”

  Both Messima and Néma had flushed with embarrassment.

  “Pop, you are embarrassing them. They are not little kids.” Exclaimed Marnon.

  Augustine chuckled and went out to the kitchen, leaving her husband to settle down in his seat to become the centre of attention as usual.

  Joslin was a sixty-year-old sprightly man with wild overflowing blond-white hair. Unlike most Atlanteans, he dressed in colourful striped gowns. Today he wore purple and green stripes brought tightly into his middle with a large black belt. He looked around him as he made himself comfortable in his seat. He had finally settled, putting his feet up on a small stool as he took the juniper tea that his wife had brought him.

  “The Watchers. Yes, yes.” He said. “Pure evil. I can sense it, and so could my dear departed brother. Their arrival marks the end of the Golden Age and the start of our fall into destruction.”

  Messima stared at her Uncle. Somehow, she knew he was right, yet at the same time, she was still shocked by his Revelations. Until today she had thought that the arrival of The Watchers meant that humanity would be nurtured into the next step forward. Again, the darkness she had sensed when she had passed the two aliens together with her uncle’s revelations cast severe doubts upon that possibility and the open way that the council had embraced the newcomers. Besides, in the l
egends, the gods of old looked just like us. Yet The Watchers were distinctly reptilian.

  Although Messima had never seen an alien before she had communicated with them in her deep meditations. She had found the experience to be very intense but profoundly uplifting. How could her experiences be so different? It was poles apart. In the duality of existence, darkness balanced the light, and for each benevolent being, there was a malevolent one.

  “Messima,” The Priestess snapped out of her daydream as her uncle addressed her directly.

  “Yes, the truth has dawned on you too. The keeper of the light such as yourself and others like myself in resonance with the earth goddess are in great peril. For the first time in our lives, we must close down our openness to all things and be wary who is connecting to us. The Watchers can sense us and will turn us to their purpose if we let them. Oriel was introduced to The Watchers some weeks ago. The experience I sensed far away here. He was deeply probed for information. It was stuff about you and the priesthood. He closed down the information – kept it away from them - but I think he was harmed in the process. When we both meditated and discussed the event that evening, I could sense a deep dread in his very soul. His deep love for you and his concern for your wellbeing was consuming him. Yes, yes, let’s have our supper.”

  Messima wandered outside with the others. She was relieved to be in the fresh air again. The autumn sun was now low in the sky. Her aunt was ferrying plates of wild tomatoes and bowls of warm wild wheat and barley grains that ‘Minor was so famous for onto the large crystal and stone table at the rear of the house. The pale blue render of the dome-roofed dwelling was lit golden with the low sunlight, the shadows casting their shade on the potted dragon trees in the courtyard. The sacred trees appeared timeless – a reminder of the origins of Atlantis and its holy mountain of Olympus.