The Tower: Part 6: Ostara
Post #65: In which preparation for dance for the Mother ...
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HEKS
When Heks stepped out from among Yggdrasil’s roots, she found Verdani seated in her accustomed place under the tree before her spinning wheel, which steadily whirred as Verdani spun thread. Urd sat on a broad branch above Verdani, skinny legs dangling. Mirmir’s giant shield-shaped head rested in her lap. Skuld lounged on the grass at Yggdrasil’s foot, her scissors behind one ear.
Upon seeing Heks, Skuld leapt to her feet and embraced her eagerly. Released from her bony arms, Heks found Persephone and Ginger standing beside her, Persephone looking amused and Ginger rather intimidated.
The wheel stilled and Verdani bustled to Ginger and took her in her arms, stroking her rich red hair with a maternal hand.
“What a joy, my dear, to meet you at last! I know your whole story, your mother and all those sisters and Radulf, good man that he is, helping you find a new life. Yours is one of my favorite stories! Mirmir enjoyed it too, didn’t you Mirmir?” she shot a quick look at the snake, who nodded his head.
Ginger’s eyes widened. Heks had told her about Mirmir, but seeing was believing, Heks thought. Words were really inadequate to describe Mirmir.
“Don’t worry,” Urd said to Ginger, springing down from her branch. “He’s quite harmless." She turned to Persephone and bowed her head. “I’m Urd, Queen Persephone. You are welcome.”
“You must not bow to me,” said Persephone, smiling at her. “Call me Persephone. I don’t feel like a queen.”
After introductions, Heks refused anything to eat or drink or even to sit.
“We must go on,” she said. “Rumpelstiltskin is waiting.”
“We know all about it,” said Verdani. “Ash and Beatrice came through during the night and woke Mirmir to tell him the news. How is our dear Eurydice?”
“Everyone’s well,” said Heks.
“I’ve spun all morning,” said Verdani. “It appears Poseidon is with Rumpelstiltskin.”
“Poseidon!” said Persephone. “I wonder what he’s up to.”
“He’s your brother-in-law, isn’t he?” asked Urd.
“He is. He and Hades have lately reconnected.”
“The news is patchy now, what with one thing and another disturbing the Yrtym,” said Verdani. “I can’t always see the details. Poseidon has some connection to Pele. That’s all I know.”
“And Pele herself?” asked Ginger shyly.
“Pele is there, my dear, and in a fine temper, too, especially with the Dvorgs. Silly creatures. They’re doing a great deal of damage right now.”
“We can’t stop,” said Heks. “We must go see if we can help.”
“I was hoping for at least one game,” Skuld said mournfully to Heks.
“No time. Perhaps I’ll come back with some new toys.”
Skuld brightened. “Poseidon plays too, doesn’t he?”
Heks grinned mischievously.
Persephone laughed. Ginger looked mystified.
“Come along,” Heks said to Ginger and Persephone, allowing her face to fall into its usual expressionless lines.
Persephone picked up her bundle and a pair of drums, and Ginger followed suit.
“Stop on the way back and tell us about it!” said Verdani as the three women stepped down among the tree’s roots, Heks leading.
“Goodbye! Good luck!”
Heks ducked her head and stepped into darkness, framed by Yggdrasil’s roots, the other two women close behind her. She took three steps forward, a hand outstretched in front of her in the absolute darkness, and stepped into a dimly lit cavern.
Niches were carved out of rock walls, and a shallow pit chiseled into the floor. The air was dry and scentless, but fresh. There was obviously an outside outlet for air movement.
“Fire salamanders,” said Persephone. “We don’t use them in Hades, but I’ve seen them before. They work with Pele, I believe.”
“Can you speak to them?” Heks asked.
“I don’t think we need to,” said Ginger, who had ventured a few steps to an arched opening in the cavern wall. “I think they’re lighting the path we need to take.”
“Ash and Beatrice knew we’d need a guide,” said Heks.
The salamanders placed themselves every few feet along the tunnel wall. As the women walked along, Heks glanced over her shoulder and saw as soon as they passed salamanders left their places and fell in behind them.
The tunnels were broad and reasonably smooth underfoot, as though well used, but no sound of voice or tool broke the silence. Heks wondered how many miles of tunnels and caves stretched under the Green World, and how many dwelt there, invisible, unthought of and unknown. It felt like a different galaxy. The first time she had walked these tunnels, she felt blind, vulnerable and helpless, trapped in a world of stone.
Her steps slowed and Persephone came to walk beside her. “It’s good to be underground again,” she said happily. “It makes me think of home, but this rock is different than what I’m used to. Look, see how porous it is? Like a stone sponge. I suppose that must be old volcanic rock.”
Her obvious ease and interest comforted Heks, and she quickened her pace. Fire salamanders rustled behind them in an ever-larger crowd.
Heks could not have said how long or far they traveled through the maze of tunnels. Without sunlight and moonlight she couldn’t measure the passage of hours, and without known landmarks miles were uncountable. She felt both hungry and weary when at last they stepped into another cavern, larger than the first one, and smelt the humid breath of the sea, along with a mouthwatering odor of cooking meat. A shaft of sun fell onto the cavern’s stone floor, and Heks could see a path among jumbled rocks climbing a steep slope and exiting out a large gap.
Eager for the sun, she paused only to put down her bundle, which had grown heavier and heavier, before following the path up and out onto a high hilltop above what had once been a curving bay, though now the sea bed lay bare and dry. Moisture thickened the air, along with a fecund mixture of exotic flowers and rampant green growth from the jungle. She could see a distant blurred blue wall of water, sparkling and glittering in the sunlight.
Rumpelstiltskin squatted over a stone-lined fire pit turning a skewer threading lumps of meat. Heks’s mouth watered. The Dwarve grinned up at her.
“Good afternoon. Hungry?”
“Starving,” she said.
The Dwarve rose and greeted Persephone with dignity.
“My Lady Persephone.”
“I’m pleased to meet you,” she said, sitting down near him so he needn’t look up at her. “Rose Red has told me about you.”
“How is Rosie?” he asked, his green eyes warm.
“She’s well and sends her love. Artemis is with her. Rosie killed a bodark last night.”
“And the Sacred Consort?”
“Chattan is there as well,” Heks put in.
Ginger sat beside Persephone, listening silently to the conversation and examining Rumpelstiltskin with interest.
The Dwarve turned to her.
“My dear,” he said, taking her hand. “Thank you for coming. You are who I most needed.”
Ginger smiled. “I hope I can help.”
“Verdani said Poseidon was with you?” Heks inquired, looking around.
“He is. He showed up last night. It turns out he and Pele were once lovers. They parted on bad terms. He’s come back to try to make amends.”
“Has she seen him yet?”
“Not as far as I know.”
“I thought it best to make a plan first,” said Poseidon, appearing from around a rock face.
“Are you procrastinating?” Persephone teased.
“Absolutely.” Poseidon lay down his trident and sat beside her, leaning to kiss her fondly on the cheek. “Lovely as ever, I see.”
“This is Heks, and Ginger,” said Persephone.
“The Red Dancer,” said Poseidon to Ginger. “I’ve heard about you, my dear, but they didn’t tell me how beautiful you are.”
“I’ve heard of you, too,” he said to Heks, his eyes keen. “I understand you’re something of a mibster.”
Heks smiled. “I like a game now and then, my Lord. I’m sure I have nothing like your skill.”
Persephone laughed. “All right, you two, save it for later. Watch out, Posey. She’s very good.” She turned to Ginger, who looked bewildered.
“Marbles. They both play marbles.”
“Would you be interested in seeing some new ones?” inquired Rumpelstiltskin, eyes gleaming.
“Certainly: Seeing, buying, winning, trading,” said Poseidon airily. “In fact, I was hoping you’d ask! But Persy is right. Business before pleasure. What’s the plan?”
Rumpelstiltskin and Poseidon between them had made friends among the islanders, and the practical Dwarve had collected a store of fresh water, fruit and meat. The five of them spent the afternoon bringing one another up-to-date with events in Baba Yaga’s birch wood and Rowan Tree. Poseidon told Rumpelstiltskin about Sedna and her successful reconnection with her people, a story Persephone, Heks and Ginger had already heard from Clarissa. Rumpelstiltskin then told them what he had discovered in Dvorgdom, including the far-off catastrophic tunnel collapse, and of Pele’s response to his offerings.
“So,” Heks summarized. “It appears the Dvorgs are in a state of uncertainty and chaos. Some will follow your lead, at least some of the time, and others are with Slate?”
“That’s it,” said Rumpelstiltskin. “I hope Pele will show herself. If she proves herself to be real instead of an old story or hoax perpetrated by the nefarious –” he grinned “– fire salamanders, it will help. Even if only a few see her, word will spread.”
“Will that be enough to repair the damage Slate’s done?” asked Persephone.
“No.” Rumpelstiltskin frowned. “It’s gone too far, and Dvorgs aren’t quick. Getting them to change their view is like moving a mountain a pebble at a time. I think the best we can do is weaken Slate’s position and put doubts in the minds of the others.”
“You want to destabilize Slate as well as repair the relationship between Pele and the Dvorgs.”
“As much as I can, yes. I’ve spent some time talking to the local people. The abovegrounders haven’t forgotten Pele. They still make offerings to her. I asked them to come up here and we roasted a couple of whole pigs. They performed a sacred dance in Pele’s honor, wearing traditional clothing and flowers. They have chants and stories and use special instruments for their Pele ritual. I put their offerings in the cavern for Pele, things like flowers, brandy and tobacco, and when I checked later, they were gone, a sign of acceptance. The abovegrounders are affected by the withdrawal of the sea, of course, but what has them most worried is the increased volcanic activity in the area. There’s been quite a bit of rumbling and smoke lately, and now and then an ash cloud. They’re anxious to placate Pele if they can.”
“The real problem is the Dvorgs,” Persephone mused.
“Pele thinks of the Dvorgs as her people,” put in Poseidon. “The abovegrounders are not so important to her, although she accepts their honor and respect. Pele is much bigger than this island, though. She is everywhere, and all Dvorgdom lies in her kingdom. Since the beginning of time Pele has shaped the land, and the old stories tell it was she who taught the Dvorgs to use tools and shape and quarry her stone in the service of others. In exchange, she expects honor and gifts, including the finest gems and stones.”
“She must be hurt,” said Ginger, “and lonely. No wonder she’s so angry.”
Poseidon looked abashed.
“I wasn’t blaming you,” Ginger said.
“I’m partly to blame,” said Poseidon. “You’re right. She is lonely. She’s lonely in the way Sedna was lonely. Everyone wants something from their mother. They give in order to get. Yet Sedna and Pele are the sacred female making life possible for their people. They give everything they are. I suspect they’d both prefer love to offerings, but offerings are they best they can get. To have even those withdrawn, to feel completely unloved and unwanted and yet still be expected to nurture your children – no wonder she’s angry!”
“That’s why I thought about dance,” said Rumpelstiltskin. “During the Imbolc ritual with Baba Yaga I understood how powerful dance can be. We Dvorgs and Dwarves don’t dance. I never did until Imbolc, but I discovered movement expresses deeper truths than words. Pele is passionate. Perhaps she can dance her passion and shed some of her hurt and anger in the company of other dancers. She can do more than receive the offering of dance. She can be part of it, dancing with those who want nothing from her but her dance.”
“I understand,” said Ginger. “I think you’re wise. I can help with that.”
“I want you to start playing the drums, Persephone, as a sort of a call,” said Rumpelstiltskin. “Pele has come to the cavern before, so I’d like to set up there. When it gets dark and Ash and Beatrice wake up, I’ll send them into the tunnels to spread the word among the bats and fire salamanders to come to the cavern and join us. I’ll persuade as many Dvorgs as I can to come back and watch, in the hopes Pele will show herself. They needn’t dance or be seen at all. I only want them to witness.”
“I think the best thing for me to do,” said Poseidon, “is join the dance. I’ll wait until you’re well started,” he nodded at Heks, Persephone and Ginger, “and then I’ll simply appear and share the space and energy, adding my own, and see what happens.”
GINGER
As the sun touched the horizon and covered the empty bay with a thin skin of glassy light, Ginger helped Persephone find a shallow alcove from where she could play the drums and watch the dance.
They had eaten and drunk well, talking until Rumpelstiltskin yawned hugely and expressed the need for a nap. Poseidon left them and went down into the sea, promising to return at sunset. Rumpelstiltskin curled up comfortably in the shadow of a rock, and Heks and Persephone stretched out in the sun.
Ginger, who had not traveled until coming to Rowan Tree, explored.
The cavern entrance was situated on the volcano’s flanks. The cone towered above them, a pale wisp of steam and heat hanging above the caldera. Jungle climbed the volcano’s lower flanks. Ginger walked to the edge of the trees and stopped, amazed by the rich scents and sounds. The dense growth appeared impassable, and she didn’t venture under the trees, though she examined a thick vine bearing a riot of red flowers, sticky and heavy with perfume.
The area of the cavern entrance was part of a bare chute down the volcano’s side, shaped, perhaps, by a more recent lava flow. Ginger climbed, and eventually found an outcrop from which she could see much of the island spread out below her, the hazy wall of sea on every side.
It was a queer feeling, perching on this piece of land in the midst of so much ocean. She imagined the sea purring rhythmically on crescents of sand and pebbles like a contented cat, in a thousand shades of green and blue.
Ginger bared her skin to the sun and stretched out on the rock, her sensuality fully awakened. The power of dance, she knew, dwelt in the fullness and honesty of expression. Her ability to create and hold space for others depended on her ability to fully inhabit her own experience and allow it to be seen by others.
Now, she did not think of Pele, the Dvorgs or Poseidon. She ran her hands over her body’s familiar landscape and relaxed in the sun. She drew in deep breaths of the humid, perfumed air, stretching luxuriously and then relaxing. She had not swum in the sea, but she imagined doing so now, the water’s cool touch and its lovely colored embrace. Perhaps Poseidon would take her swimming before they left this place.
She thought about recent events at Rowan Tree. She remembered Clarissa’s face in the firelight as she told her story, Heks’s expressionless determination, the strength in Rose Red’s face as she divided the linen pillow case with the poisoned copper blade and released the feathers into the night. Had it only been last night?
She would dance with the smell of burned feathers. She would dance a prayer of victory for Rose Red. She would dance the ugly shudder that crept over her when she’d glimpsed the hair under Mingan’s tongue in a moment of open-mouthed coarse hilarity. She would dance the astounding hidden strength of women and the mysterious union of the Sacred Consort with the female caretakers of the earth.
And she would dance for rage, for grief and for betrayal. She would dance for the long history of the Dvorgs and Pele, for rock and fire, for the underground tunnels and caves and the fields and forests lying over them. She would dance for the glowing fire salamanders like animate jewels, and the bats, soot and velvet shadows nestled among the stones.
She would invite Pele to dance a woman’s dance of red tide and milky seed, of sparks and steam, of breast and belly and a lover’s insistent body and demanding mouth.
She would invite Pele back to life, back to the unfolding story, back to a fine lust and passion, back into connection, even though her own children turned aside.
Ginger closed her eyes and slept.