by Jacky Gray
4 – Solah’s Shaman
Shouting a protest, Slater grabbed for her hand but missed. He scrambled down the tree, shouting her name. Near the bottom, he was plucked off the tree by a giant of a man who held him by the scruff of his tunic as Aurala screamed. ‘Let Slater free.’
He stopped struggling long enough to check she was unharmed as the six men who had caught her, gently lowered her to the ground. Again she demanded, ‘Let Slater free now!’
Before he could register her intent, Aurala ran toward the shaman and grabbed the ceremonial dagger hanging off his belt. She held the point just above her heart and challenging the priest with flashing eyes. Unlike any knife Slater had ever seen, it had a long, curving blade, sharpened to a vicious-looking point. It was made of an unusual material which glittered green in the sunlight and attached to a carved bone handle with pale strips of hide.
Tauroch raised his hands. ‘Aurala not die.’ His tone was bitter as he issued the instruction. ‘Free knave.’
Pushing up from the floor where the giant had dropped him, Slater looked over to see the priest had his dagger in one hand and Aurala’s slender wrist in the other. She was pulling away but he had gripped her tightly.
‘Let her go, you bully.’ Slater didn’t care that the shaman would not understand his words, the meaning was clear.
In an unexpected move, Tauroch let her go. She was pulling with such force that she tumbled to the ground, leaving him free to grab Slater by the neck. Raising the dagger, he positioned it ready to plunge into Slater’s chest and crowed triumphantly. Despite his fear, Slater registered that the blade was made from emerald – a rare and precious crystal.
Several of the men were pointing at Slater’s head and muttering a word which sounded like “rodan” which he took to mean something bad – possibly a form of torture.
Help came from an unexpected quarter as the giant’s hand closed over the shaman’s, peeling open the fingers to claim the weapon. ‘No blood before sundown. Evil omen.’ Several of the other men joined in, repeating his words like a chant and the shaman had no choice but to comply.
Throwing Slater down next to Aurala, he hissed at them, ‘Solah die sundown. Take Aurala bride. Tauroch slay Slater. Slave for Solah.’
Slater finally understood why she was dressed in such finery. Aurala was to be sacrificed as a bride to the sun-god. It explained how she could have been so bossy earlier when Tauroch wanted to kill him and why she knew the men would catch her when she leapt out of the tree. But why wasn’t she trying to escape? She seemed to be taking her fate so calmly. His thoughts were interrupted as he was seized by two of the men who were instructed to take him to the “pit.” The widening of Aurala’s eyes indicated that this would not be a pleasant experience and he struggled as they dragged him away.
‘Bide.’ Her voice once again held a note of command and the men followed her order to wait. ‘Slater gift from Solah for Aurala. Slater great shaman. Help Aurala ready for Solah.’
The men’s faces showed concern as they released him. Tauroch shrieked, crossing his arms then touching various parts of his body to ward off any evil. Spitting on the floor, he demanded, ‘What magic?’ hissing in Slater’s face.
Holding his ground, Slater stared him down with a haughty look as his brain mentally went through all the things he had in his shoulder sack before realising for the first time that it wasn’t with him. Determined not to be unnerved by this, Slater copied the outlandish showmanship, stretching his fingers in Tauroch’s face, making him flinch back. Putting his hands casually in his pocket, Slater prayed there would be something useful. As his fingers closed over a box of fire-sticks brought to light the candles, he turned a cool gaze to the shaman’s angry one as he said, ‘Fire.’
Leaping in the air, Slater began a strange dance, calling to Solah and the spirit of fire to come to him as he marked the seven directions, north, south, east, west, above, below and centre. At each direction, he turned a small circle and gave a little jump, punctuated by a loud clap which echoed like thunder. At the centre, he craftily retrieved a fire-stick from the box, striking it in the sand-strip. His prayers were answered as it lit first time. Holding the flame toward Tauroch, he replaced the box in his pocket. The shaman flinched back from the fire before it could singe his dirty, brittle hair and the other men gasped in amazement, making several protective gestures.
The flame would soon reach his fingers so Slater pretended to capture it in his other hand and throw it to the sun as he dropped the fire-stick and stepped on it.
Tauroch looked suspicious but the other men were mumbling about ‘mighty fire’ and ‘Solah shaman.’
Aurala took his arm, but the shaman still had a trick or two left. ‘True Solah shaman know stone magic. Slater must show spirit line.’
Knowing Tauroch wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d subjected him to a host of trials, Slater decided this was something he could do easily. Besides, it would be useful to convince as many of the men as possible that he was someone to be feared. Maybe they wouldn’t be in such a hurry to do Tauroch’s bidding if they thought there was another shaman around. Standing tall and proud, he tried to give the impression that this was yet another tedious task he could do in his sleep. ‘Slater show spirit line, Tauroch know truth. Slater gift from Solah.’
He deliberately caught the eyes of several of the men who nodded their approval, even the giant. Tauroch saw the exchanged glances and frowned, trying to regain command. ‘Not show spirit line, Slater die. Come temple.’
He directed the men to surround the two youngsters, obviously wary that they may try to escape once more.
Walking to the temple, Aurala whispered, ‘Slater know spirit line? Truth?’ She seemed concerned.
Slater smiled reassuringly. ‘Aurala not fear. All good.’
Except it wasn’t all good. When they got to the circle, the heal stones were there but the sarsen doorway stones were not there so the solstice line was not obvious. The slight energy would have been difficult to follow with no alignments or dowsing rods. Instead, he sensed a strong pull at the back of the stone which curved round to the left. Following it a step at a time, as it headed toward the ditch, Slater remembered Reagan talking about the water line around the henge and the magnetic force line around the bank.
At the edge of the ditch, Slater again copied Tauroch’s theatrics, with prayers and incantations to Solah and the water spirit, throwing his arms wide as though to receive instructions from above.
The shaman’s face was thunderous as he watched Slater follow the secret path without so much as a hazel twig or willow wand. Aurala followed alongside him, laughing and clapping her hands in admiration as he picked up the pace, his feet crunching on the white chalk. He could see the blue line shimmering in front of him as he sped up, running the last fifty paces.
The priest appeared to have lost interest, walking over to the centre of the circle to fuss over the newly laid stone, pacing slowly round it. As Slater completed the circuit, Aurala insisted they should take their leave of the shaman formally. Approaching the centre, they watched him running his hands over the surface of the stone, occasionally bending down to inspect something which caught his eye – it looked as though he was kissing it.
Aurala took Slater’s hand, leading him regally toward the shaman, but his attention was caught by the huge stone and he forgot all ideas of celebrating his small victory or making his escape with Aurala to “ready” her. Needing to be certain, Slater bent down and examined the stone, feeling its warmth and so much more. It was this that finally convinced him the whole thing wasn’t a hoax. He knew something was dreadfully wrong and it seemed only he could fix it.
5 – The Water Spiral
Slater had no doubt this was the altar stone he had seen in his Stonehenge, it was the same size and shape and the tiny crystals twinkled as they caught the light. But these men had put it in the wrong place; the healing energy wasn’t at its strongest in the centre of the henge. Walking slow
ly round the circle three times, he tried to sense energy lines but apart from the slight pull from the solstice alignment of the sun, he felt nothing. Standing on the sunrise line, he tried to remember how many paces it was to the correct position of the water spiral. The shadow of a bird caught his eye and an idea began to form in his mind. Seeing that several of the men had noticed the bird, he sought deeply for the very best of his acting talents.
With a shriek worthy of the shaman, he fell to the ground wailing. ‘Solah tell Slater, stone wrong.’ Kneeling forward, he kissed the ground. He sat back on his heels, rocking back and forth with his arms outstretched and his eyes closed as though in pain. Hearing another shriek, he opened an eye and saw Aurala had prostrated herself next to him and was copying his moves.
Standing up, he jerked his body several paces away from the stone as though being pulled by an unseen hand. At the site of his altar stone, he saw blue lines shimmering just above the ground forming a perfect spiral with equally spaced coils. Walking through to the centre of them, he counted seven rings and judged how long he had to perform his ritual, wanting to time it exactly right.
Using a modified version of his seven point incantation, he visited the cardinal directions, raised his arms to the sky and then folded them into his chest. His timing was perfect – as he returned to the centre, the sun went behind a cloud. Staggering as though his energy had been drained, Slater used the distraction to light another match which he dropped into the centre of the spiral. The grass was just dry enough for it to catch but damp enough to create smoke. He danced around this, wailing and calling to Solah not to be angry. Aurala joined in and they held hands, circling round the smoke, promising to correct the stone’s position.
Tauroch’s screech filled the air as he approached, and Slater stamped out the fire, leaving a ring of blackened grass which marked the centre. Then he fell to the ground as though in a faint and Aurala held her arms to the sky, beseeching Solah to let him live. The pantomime was well played out; many of the men were moving in closer, crossing their arms and spitting to avert evil spirits. Even Tauroch was subdued and several moments passed in a still tableau, the silence only broken by Aurala’s occasional sobs, alternating with whispered prayers.
Just when the tension had reached an unbearable peak, Slater drew in a long noisy breath, coughing at the effort. Even Aurala flinched, and the others sprang back in fear. In a clever drama, Slater changed before their eyes from a stripling lad into an awesome deity. He appeared to grow a few inches taller and a deep, commanding voice boomed out. ‘Solah speak Aurala. No man follow.’ The gesture he made included all the men who shrank back from his outstretched arm.
Tauroch stood his ground for a moment, uncertainty clear on his face, but then he made a gesture of submission, bowing deeply. It was obvious he was reluctant to challenge his adversary after such an elaborate show of magic which had all the others impressed.
Taking Aurala’s hand, Slater led her toward the heal stones, affecting a regal air which they maintained until they were well down the avenue. When they could no longer be seen from the temple, they ran like the guilty teenagers they were. At this point, they were well out of earshot, and Aurala stopped dead, forcing him to stop, too.
‘Who Slater? What Slater? Mighty shaman? More might Tauroch?’
Slater shook his head. This was too much for his tired brain to take in. He tried to explain properly, in his own language, accompanying pronouns with gestures. ‘I come from a different time, many years from now. We have new kinds of magic, like fire-sticks. And we speak differently. I am Slater. You are Aurala.’
She pointed to herself as he had done. ‘You are Aurala.’ Then she pointed to him. ‘I am Slater.’
‘Not quite.’ He pointed to himself. ‘I am Slater.’ Then he used her hand to point to herself. ‘Say, I am Aurala.’
‘I am Aurala.’
‘That’s it. Me Slater, you Aurala.’
She pointed to herself. ‘I Aurala, you Slater.’
‘Almost there. “I” and “me” both refer to the same thing. Myself. No, that’s much too complicated.’ He paused, trying to think of something simpler, and then indicated a short height. ‘I am a junior. You are a junior.’ He raised his hand to show a taller height. ‘Tauroch is an adult.’
She tried, putting her hand at head height. ‘I am junior. You are junior. Maxoli is adult.’ She raised her hand as high as she could and he knew she meant the giant.
‘Yes. Maxoli is an adult. A very tall adult.’
She smiled at her new language skills. ‘Solah is adult?’
He shrugged. ‘Probably. But where I come from, we call Solah a God and we don’t really know what Gods look like.’
‘God?’ She rolled the word around in her mouth as though tasting it.
‘Supreme mystical being. Ultimate power. Deity. Ruling spirit.’ It felt good to exercise his vocabulary after being so restricted, even if it was just jargon to her.
‘Solah is spirit.’
‘Yes. And all the other things.’
‘Stop.’ She covered her ears with her hands. ‘Slater speak quick. Know much word.’
They had reached her dwelling, a small hut set apart from the rest and decorated with flowers, feathers, berries and ribbons as befitted Solah’s bride. Welcoming him in, she offered a platter of nuts and berries then filled a wooden beaker from a skin pouch. He sipped it, pleasantly warmed by the spicy juice.
For the next hour or two, he tried to find out as much as he could about the ceremony. She described many sacred rituals which were more excuses for Tauroch to shriek and caper about. Then, as the sun died, turning to a fiery red ball, the shaman would spill her blood to consecrate the new altar stone. She would join Solah as his bride, to reign beside him forever.
Slater couldn’t stop the shock from widening his eyes. ‘But that doesn’t have to happen. Listen.’ He outlined his plan to Aurala, stressing it would need careful timing.
She smiled at his enthusiasm as he talked about the details, but when he reached the end, she shook her head. ‘Your trick not work.’
‘Why not? If you don’t think …’
She held up her hand to stop him. ‘Because Aurala – I must die.’ She stood up, as though that was the end of it.
Grabbing her hand, he pulled her down next to him. ‘But I just explained there is no reason for you to die.’
She smiled a sad smile and shook her head again, telling how her family would be dishonoured if she did not become Solah’s bride. How they would lose their share of the bridal gifts.
‘But they will still have a daughter.’
‘I not feed hungry childer. Bride gift much grain, sheep. Feed family for many moons. Family strong, live long.’
Slater shook his head. ‘Let me see if I’ve understood this. You must die so your family will get half of the treasure and become powerful in the tribe.’ She shrugged and he shook his head in disgust. ‘I suppose Tauroch gets the other half.’
‘What half?’
He demonstrated with his fingers, holding up all ten and putting five to her family and five to the shaman. Shaking her head, she demonstrated how her family only got one of the fingers and the shaman got the other nine.
‘Tauroch gets nine-tenths? That old faker gets nearly all of the gifts. Who gives the gifts?’
‘All family give two animal, five pots grain or berries.’
‘How many families in Durren?’ She started counting on her fingers and when she got to twenty he stopped her. It was obviously a sizeable treasure and would make the shaman the most powerful man in the tribe, so he wouldn’t give it up in a hurry.
Slater needed to know more. ‘Tell me about the stones. How did they come to Durren?’
6 – The First Temple
Offering Slater a refill of the juice, Aurala began her tale, a history which had been handed down for generations. She told how the food started running out and her ancestors cleared trees, planted crops and raised herds.
Generations of families worked, played and prayed together, growing into a large tribe. Her family was well respected with fine, strong sons who were good at hunting.
‘Was there a chief?’
‘No. All family same. Bring animal, grain, nut, berry. All family take same part.’ She mimed sharing.
‘But that didn’t last long.’
‘No. Some family much crops or strong animal.’
‘So they became richer and more powerful – mighty.’
‘More might, yes. Deal far-land. Take slave, shaman.’
‘And finally, one man became chief of the tribe, telling everyone else what to do.’
She nodded. ‘Evil men come from other tribe. Steal grain, animal.’
‘So the chief has to have an army. People like Maxoli. Yes, we learnt all about it. How the chief, the shaman and their men keep all the gifts while the rest starve.’ Her face registered confusion, so he gestured for her to continue.
There were seven years of catastrophe: crops failing, raids and battles with other tribes where many men died. They built the first temple using the spirit lines and water lines, trying to harness their energy. Solah was not impressed and it rained every day that summer. They tried to appease him; building the grand entrance and setting the massive heal stones to guide him to the land in the summer moons to make the crops thrive. But the disasters got worse with diseased animals, stillborn babies and a massive fire which destroyed whole families.
The chief decided he must atone for past sins and sent his eldest son, Rufus, to travel the land looking for a solution. He spent many moons talking to shamen who spoke of amazing temples built of wood and stone. Rufus took precious gifts of axe and spear-heads, bows made from yew, beautifully carved pots and wristbands of tiny shells and healing stones. Paying homage to each tribal chief, he visited the temples, learning about the significance of the alignments and how they were used.
Eventually, he heard about the sacred hill at Avalon. He studied the myths and walked the labyrinth, pausing at every direction to ask the spirits for help. Reaching the top, he gave thanks and left offerings of bread and ale. As he meditated, a vision was sent from Solah, telling him how to build his stone temple. While he was there, Albion, the high priest of the white water, heard of his quest and summoned him, telling him about the magical bluestones in the nearby valley. They had landed there when the Ancient Ones were playing games, throwing them across the river Avon from Dyfed to see who could get them the furthest.
