And so was the next.
Deeper she went, and every chamber she came to was bare and black. She knew these were the lives she had refused to have and she was filled with regret.
‘If I had my time again,’ she whispered with a dry mouth, ‘If only I could have my time again!’
She was on hands and knees now crawling along the rough stone tunnel, with scarcely enough room to raise her head to see whether another chamber was to come.
‘Will I reach the centre and find that I am crushed like an olive in an olive press? Will the stone close over me and I be trapped here forever?’
The pain of the pounding of her heart was almost too much to bear.
If she had wanted to turn back now there was no way she could have manoeuvred the turn in that small space.
She had to go on.
There was another chamber.
It was enormous, opening before her like a giant cavern.
She straightened her cramped limbs and dragged herself to her feet, staring about her with awe.
It was a sombre and impressive place ... contrast of blackness and fire ... harsh light and deathly darkness.
The shadows in the corners held dreadful mysteries.
In the centre, on a throne of swords, sat a figure as fearful as she had ever imagined.
Eyes like holes over nothingness.
A mouth that was the door of Dread.
‘My lord!’ she cried and fell upon her knees.
This must be Groth and she had been brought to his palace to be his queen.
He lifted a scaly hand and pointed at her.
She felt a searing pain in her forehead and light seemed to explode in her head.
‘Choose!’
A voice roared in her ears.
‘Choose!’
She shut her eyes.
She shut her ears with her trembling, icy hands.
She turned and ran.
The corridor was larger than it had been and admitted her full and running figure.
Back through the darkness she fled.
Back through the silent, empty chambers.
Through the chambers of her past.
Through the chambers of her mistakes.
‘I choose!’ she screamed.
‘I choose!
‘Kyra, my lady,’ she shrieked, ‘Lord of Light, save me!’
The stony door fell open.
The sunlight burst into fragments and whirled around her.
She saw Kyra standing beside her, holding a lily.
‘Welcome home my child,’ she said, and her smile was the most beautiful thing that Deva had ever seen.
Sobbing she flung herself into her mother’s arms and Kyra took her.
Khu-ren, Lea and Vann looked at each other, smiled, and quietly withdrew.
* * * *
News of the approach of Isar and Lark travelled ahead of them and Fern, Kyra and Deva set off to meet them.
Since she had recovered from her ‘illness’ Deva had been very quiet and thoughtful. Gradually the colour had come back to her cheeks and the softness back to her eyes. She played with Fern’s youngest child and laughed with almost as much carefree abandon as she used to have.
But Kyra could see that she had changed.
She was older, and there was something that needed settling still in her heart.
Strangely she did not seem impatient for Isar’s return any more, and when she received the news that they were going out to meet him, she hesitated about joining them.
‘What is the matter?’ Kyra asked, seeing the look in her eyes.
‘Nothing,’ Deva said.
Kyra enquired no further.
Deva was a woman now and must be allowed the dignity of solving her own problems.
At the last minute she decided to join her mother and Fern. Kyra noticed that she dressed and groomed herself very carefully.
‘You look nervous,’ she ventured to say.
But Deva did not reply.
* * * *
They met Isar and Lark in a wood.
Fern was the first to reach him and she fairly smothered him with kisses. He lifted her off the ground and swung her round in his arms.
Laughing she saw the green trees whirling and the sky dancing at his return.
‘I think I could burst with happiness!’ she cried.
He kissed her lips, her eyes, her hair, and put her down.
Above her head he met the eyes of Deva.
He would have expected her to be the one to fling herself at him.
She seemed different, more dignified.
Lark watched him as he walked towards her.
He stood in front of her, looking down into those beautiful dark almond eyes he remembered so well.
The two Beings who had known each other through millennia knew that a subtle change had taken place in each other and in their relationship.
Everything had gone quiet around them.
Fern and Kyra and Lark moved not a muscle.
He looked his question.
Deva stepped forward and kissed him softly on one cheek and then the other.
‘Welcome home,’ she said quietly.
Was this the impetuous, possessive child he had left behind?
‘You and I, my lord,’ she said now, holding her head high and speaking steadily – only Kyra could see that her hands were trembling and that she was clenching and unclenching them behind the folds of her dress. ‘You and I have much to tell each other. Will you walk with me?’
Isar looked swiftly at Lark.
Deva did not miss the look.
Lark’s eyes were masked.
This was between Isar and Deva, and she would not interfere though her heart might break with the strain of holding back.
Isar then turned to Kyra.
Imperceptibly she nodded.
Slowly the two walked away from the others down a green tunnel of leaves.
They walked close, but they did not touch.
They had gone a long way before either of them spoke, and then it was Isar who stopped walking and prepared to tell what was in his heart.
‘No,’ Deva said, holding up her small hand, ‘let me speak while I have the courage.
‘You have been away a long time, how long I cannot measure by the fullness and the waning of the moon, the cycles of the sun. I only know that during that time whole peoples have lived and died, buildings of stone have risen and fallen, wind and sand have covered the places we once loved.’
Isar was listening attentively, his face deeply thoughtful. He didn’t remember the ancient times as well as Deva did.
‘Our paths must separate, my lord. I know this now, though the pain of accepting it is still with me.
‘I will never be myself, know myself, grow as a Being should, if I hold always to what I was and what I had.
‘All this life as Deva I have felt unsettled, a stranger amongst strangers, not knowing where I belonged. I have done foolish, wicked things...
‘No, do not speak.
‘I know what I have done and what I have been.
‘Someday I will tell you of the vision that made me see myself ... but not now...
‘O Isar...’
Her voice broke.
‘I will love you always ... but ... not as I have done.’
She stopped speaking and the gentle forest noises of rustling leaves and bird calls took over.
The young man stood, torn between two loves, the one he had grown accustomed to having, and the other whose love was new and full of mystery.
Deeply they looked into each other and the valediction they spoke was wordless.
Deva suddenly shook herself and something of the old mischievous spark came back to her.
‘Come,’ she said briskly, ‘I will race you back to the others!’
Before he could turn his mood around she was off over the crackling twigs, sunlight flickering on her flying hair.
He was soon level with her in spi
te of her having started before him, and he should have been warned by the old fiery glint in her eye.
Quick as the lash of a lizard’s tail her dainty foot shot out and tripped him up.
Laughing she was off again and he was left struggling in a bed of leaves and soft mud.
* * * *
In the time that followed many changes took place.
Lark moved into the house of Lea next to the Temple, and the priest who had no daughter of her own took her to her heart.
Isar told Lark all that had passed between Deva and himself, and they did not immediately think of marriage between themselves.
Lark could feel he wanted time between the new life and the old, and she knew also that he was still concerned about Deva and anxious not to hurt her in any way.
But as time went by and Deva seemed to return to her old teasing, volatile self, loving towards him but more as a sister than as a lover, they began to relax and meet sometimes.
Isar found more and more that they did not need to use words between them. He seemed to have such closeness with Lark that her thoughts could blossom in his mind as though they naturally grew there.
To speak with others she developed a language of hand signs which he knew how to interpret.
Kyra was told of the old man in Lark’s vision and tears came to her eyes.
Maal indeed had kept his promise, but Kyra was still lonely for him.
Later there was great rejoicing when Karne returned in triumph, a great collar of beaten gold about his neck, a cape of woven cloth flowing from it, and the handsome Gya at his side.
* * * *
The wedding of Lark and Isar was quiet and gentle.
That of Deva and Gya was full of noise and merriment, the gayest one the Temple community had ever seen.
* * * *
All locations are both actual and mythic, existing at once on the material plane and in the spirit realms. The adventures occur in actual Time and in the Timeless zone of inner transformation. All the protagonists exist today.
About Moyra Caldecott
Moyra Caldecott was born in Pretoria, South Africa in 1927, and moved to London in 1951. She married Oliver Caldecott and raised three children. She has degrees in English and Philosophy and an M.A. in English Literature.
Moyra Caldecott has earned a reputation as a novelist who writes as vividly about the adventures and experiences to be encountered in the inner realms of the human consciousness as she does about those in the outer physical world. To Moyra, reality is multidimensional.
Books by Moyra Caldecott
Titles marked with an asterisk are either available or forthcoming from Mushroom eBooks. Please visit www.mushroom-ebooks.com for more information.
FICTION
Guardians of the Tall Stones:
The Tall Stones*
The Temple of the Sun*
Shadow on the Stones*
The Silver Vortex*
Weapons of the Wolfhound*
The Eye of Callanish*
The Lily and the Bull*
The Tower and the Emerald*
Etheldreda*
Child of the Dark Star*
Hatshepsut: Daughter of Amun*
Akhenaten: Son of the Sun*
Tutankhamun and the Daughter of Ra*
The Ghost of Akhenaten*
The Winged Man*
The Waters of Sul*
The Green Lady and the King of Shadows*
NON-FICTION/MYTHS AND LEGENDS
Crystal Legends*
Three Celtic Tales*
Women in Celtic Myth
Myths of the Sacred Tree
Mythical Journeys: Legendary Quests
CHILDREN’S STORIES
Adventures by Leaflight
eBook Info
Identifier:1843194406
Title:Shadow on the Stones
Creator:Moyra Caldecott
Rights:Copyright Moyra Caldecott, 2006. All rights reserved.
Description:Shadow on the Stones continues the story of Kyra, priest of the Temple of the Sun, who, with her husband the Lord Khu-ren, has guided their civilisation to a time of spiritual strength, psychic energy, and communal peace. But there is a shadow on the Stones -- the spreading influence of the terrible god Groth, dark god of chaos and barbarity.Only the priests of the Temple have the means to resist the tides of destruction... (50000 words)
Publisher:Mushroom eBooks
Date:11/2006
Type:Text
Coverage:Bronze Age Britain
Subject:English eBooks
Subject:Novels
Subject:Fantasy
Subject:Historical Fiction
Language:en
Keyword:bronze;age;stone;sacred;circle;prehistoric;britain;stonehenge;avebury
Critic:
Price:4.99
Currency:USDollar
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