The Tower: Part 6: Ostara
Post #64: In which old love confessed ...
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The Dvorgdom portal was guarded by an ancient underground site sacred to Pele. A narrow, twisting rock chimney provided fresh air from aboveground, and generations of Dvorgs had taken advantage of this natural feature, hollowing out a small cavern and carving a shallow pit into the stone floor for fire. Niches were hewn out of the walls. Once they’d held jewels like underground stars and other offerings to Pele, but the site had recently fallen into disuse as Slate and others like him worked to undermine the Dvorgs’ traditional spiritual framework.
In spite of this, fire salamanders still favored the cavern, and when Ash and Beatrice came through the portal and flitted into the cavern, they found a burning pile of the little creatures lying comfortably together in the shallow firepit like a heap of cooling embers.
Ash flew low over them, emitting the sonic sound he used to locate insects and letting them feel the stir his wings made. A salamander raised his head and looked at Ash out of shining black eyes.
“Hello, Glowing Brother,” said Ash formally.
“Winged Brother,” returned the salamander, equally polite.
“Others will follow us through the portal,” said Ash. “Will you and your people light the way and guide them to Offrir Cave, where the Dwarve Rumpelstiltskin makes offerings to Pele, Earth-Shaper?”
“For those who still remember the old ways, we will do this,” said the salamander.
“Thank you,” said Ash. “Perhaps the old ways will return.”
“In Pele’s name.”
“In Pele’s name,” said Ash, and flitted away into a tunnel.
Ash and Beatrice flew into the large cavern where they had seen Pele emerge from the crack in the floor. The cave smelled faintly of roast pig and tobacco but was empty and quiet. They found Rumpelstiltskin outside under the paling dawn sky, smoking his pipe on a porous-looking chunk of rock overlooking the sweep of a bay, lined with bare rocks. The humid air smelled strongly of the sea.
Next to the Dwarve sat the figure of a man. His dark hair, slightly long, fell tangled and wet above broad naked shoulders. He too smoked, a pipe clenched between his teeth. He sat in the relaxed fashion of a big cat, sensual and at ease, secure in his own power and beauty. A trident lay on the ground near his hand.
“Poseidon!” said Beatrice softly to Ash as he spiraled above the two.
“What brings him here, I wonder?” said Ash. He spied a convenient wedge-shaped crack near enough to eavesdrop and they settled down to listen.
“… after we left Sedna, I couldn’t stop thinking about what it is to be a woman,” Poseidon said. “So powerful and vulnerable at the same time. I like women, you know.”
“Humph,” said Beatrice.
“Hush,” said Ash repressively.
Rumpelstiltskin grunted.
“I like them, but I’ve never thought much about what their experience is until now. Sedna and her lover, Akhlut, shared such passion and joy, and then he was gone and her suffering is unending. Her power frightened me, the power of her love and the power of her suffering. She is life and death to those people, an angry, bitter, vengeful goddess. And why not? How could she be otherwise, outcast and alone with her grief and her mutilation? Yet at the same time she’s like any other women. If you could have seen her come back to life with a bit of kindness and attention. Combing her hair and letting her share her story healed her more than food, water and new hands. She only wanted to be seen, to feel she possessed value beyond providing for the needs of her people. She wanted to be appreciated for who she was, not only what she could provide.”
“Mm-hmm?” said Rumpelstiltskin encouragingly around the pipestem.
Ash heard a single sleepy bird call.
“Well … Sedna made me think … she made me remember …” Poseidon squirmed uncomfortably like a small boy.
As they talked, they both looked out at the distant wall of the arrested sea. Now Rumpelstiltskin turned his head to look at Poseidon and cocked an interrogative eyebrow.
“Pele and I were lovers,” said Poseidon in a rush.
He puffed fiercely on his pipe.
“We were lovers,” he continued on slowly, “but we argued. And I left. And I haven’t spoken to her since. I’ve always thought about her, though. There’s no one like her. Then the Yrtym began to break down and I began thinking about connection and disconnection. I even visited my brother, Hades, who I hadn’t talked to in a long time. We’re not … close. My fault as much as his. But I started thinking about the way I left things with Pele. Then I persuaded Baba Yaga to allow me to participate in the fertility ritual at Imbolc, and the new Sacred Consort revealed himself.”
Beatrice snorted.
“The Rusalka welcomed me. It was an amazing ceremony. And beautiful. And powerful. And it fixed the portal at the bathhouse. Then Vasilisa, Clarissa, Morfran and I met Sedna, and again I understood the power of connection and interconnection.”
“Mmmm,” said Rumpelstiltskin.
“Sedna made me wonder what kind of a story Pele would tell – about me.”
“Mmmm,” said Rumpelstiltskin again, as though wondering too.
“I thought about the volcanic activity and vents in the sea, and I thought about everything breaking down and going wrong, like the way the sea withdraws from the land. I wondered if Pele’s angry – at me.”
Rumpelstiltskin removed his pipe from between his lips and shook his head. “She may be angry with you, but not only you,” he said. “Some among the Dvorgs are attempting to erase her. She’s maligned because she’s a woman, and Dvorgs dislike and distrust anything female. They view all of aboveground as dangerously female, in fact. There’s a new and rising hatred for anything having remotely to do with females, deepening the distrust between the Dvorgs and Dwarves. Few continue to make offerings to Pele, and they must do it in small groups and secretly for fear of being punished and outcast.”
“But the Dvorgs and Dwarves are her people!” said Poseidon, astonished.
“Yes. But some no longer want to recognize her. There’s talk of male purity.”
“But male and female define each other!”
Rumpelstiltskin nodded his head and put his pipe back in his mouth.
Poseidon drew his heavy brows down into a frown. “Pele is not one to take an insult lightly. How long has this been going on?”
The Dwarve shrugged, inhaled one last fragrant breath of tobacco and laid his pipe aside.
“That’s why I’m here. I wanted to see what was happening for myself. I’ve watched and listened to rumors and talk. I’ve ferreted out at least one of the leading troublemakers. The Dvorgs are a proud and stubborn race. They’re easily led and manipulated by fear and pride. I persuaded a few, a very few, to participate with me in a ritual offering to Pele, and then I requested her presence.”
Poseidon sucked in his breath. “You’re brave. Did she come?”
“She came. She accepted the offerings I made. I sent to Rowan Tree for Heks and Ginger, a dancer, to come and help soothe Pele. Women understand women, and Pele has no quarrel with the humans. While I’m waiting for them, I’ve made other offerings, with the help of some of the people here. Last night we roasted a whole pig in Pele’s honor, and the people brought brandy and silk and tobacco. For a long time, we ate and drank out here, and when I returned to the cavern, everything we’d left for her was gone.”
“She was unaccountably grouchy at the end of our time together. I wonder if she was already hearing rumor of the Dvorgs’ nonsense even then and didn’t tell me. We fought. She threw rocks at me.” Poseidon grinned reminiscently. “I doused her with a wave. She screamed and I roared.”
“It sounds to me as though they were made for one another,” whispered Beatrice dryly.
“Sshh! I bet, he’ll tell the story,” said Ash.
“Who won?” inquired Rumpelstiltskin.
“Just between you and me, she did,” said Poseidon. “She got right under my skin and made me care about her. I’ve always laughed off female histrionics and tantrums, but she was the most exciting, passionate, infuriating woman I’ve ever known. The truth is, I ran away. I didn’t want to deal with how deeply I felt and her power to hurt me made me furious. So, I blew up a storm and left in a crash of waves and chaos of wind to distract myself from my own cowardice.”
“Just like a man,” muttered Beatrice.
“What did you fight about that last time?”
“Nothing. Everything.” Poseidon sighed. “Shall I tell you? I’ve never told anyone.”
“Look,” said Rumpelstiltskin. “The sun’s rising. Let’s welcome Yr with a story.”
Poseidon chuckled. “Very well. Perhaps if I make a clean confession to you, I’ll find it easier to make one to her.”
“Long ago, when the world was young and I with it, the sea became my domain. I was careless and restless, uninterested in the responsibility of looking after my new realm. Among the merfolk, certain revered and respected elders became sea kings by long tradition, and I left most of the difficult work and organization to them. I was more interested in racing Fasari Barahi, breeding sea wolves and pursuing females.
My travels and exploration had unintended benefits. I met many strange peoples and creatures. I discovered hidden connections between the sea, land and skies. I met humans and learned about their ships and merchants who sailed back and forth across the waters, buying, selling and trading goods. I heard stories and songs, rituals and poetry, oracles and portents. I saw deep magic. I was building a foundation from which to watch over my realm with some measure of wisdom and justice in my maturity, though I didn’t know it.
One day I came here to explore the turquoise waters and steep cliffs and caves. These waters are looked after by Nama, who is Pele’s sister. Nama welcomed me –”
“I bet she did,” muttered Beatrice. Ash chuckled.
“Nama told me about her sister, Pele. They had fallen out over a man they both wanted, and their bitter rivalry long outlasted the man himself, whose affections were only temporarily won by Nama. In a jealous fury, Pele left and searched for a place where the sea could never again touch her. When she came here she felt at home and settled down to continue her work as Earth Shaper. She vowed to have nothing to do with the sea, though her sister followed her and begged for reconciliation.
Nama’s description of Pele intrigued me, and I began searching for her. Nama longed for renewed unity with the earth and realized her power diminished with the loss of her sister. I thought Pele might feel the same way and be too proud to admit it. Perhaps I could soften her attitude.”
“Altruistic,” said Rumpelstiltskin gravely.
Poseidon chuckled. “Well, I do like to see families getting along. But I admit I felt curious about and attracted by the powerful woman Nama described. She sounded like a challenge, and indeed she was, more of a challenge than I bargained for.” He shook his head, rueful.
“I first saw Pele through a crack in the rock,” he continued.
She stood in her kitchen, stirring an enormous sooty cauldron of soup. Her skin and hair were black as cinder, a deep, velvety color of endless depth. She was naked, her body lush and gleaming with heat, her hips magnificent, her thighs like columns before a temple, her breasts jutting and proud, solid as melons. A thick yellow and brown snake coiled around her neck and broad shoulders. Her nipples were jeweled, and she wore an orange garnet in her navel and a ruby in her nose.
Over the years, I’ve seen her adorned in ferns and flowers, in silk and jewels. I’ve seen her dance, in the ecstasy and abandon of lovemaking, in fury, and in her full and fearsome power as the mother of her people. But I always think of her as she looked that first time, so proud and beautiful, stirring her soup and singing like the purring of a steaming kettle.”
Poseidon sighed, his eyes full of memories as he looked out across the bay, streaked by the first rays of sunlight.
“I spoke to her. She was as shy as any young maiden. Her snake, fire salamanders and bats were her only company. Her people revered her, but they feared her mighty power and her rage. For long ages she’d lived alone, dwelling in Webbd’s center, shaping the land and building mountains, sleeping hundreds of years at a time. She was old beyond age.
She’d been alone since she broke with her sister, and she’d never had a consort.
I courted her the way I’ve never courted another, before or since. Her passion equaled her vulnerability. I asked her about her soup, her snake and her fire salamanders. I asked her about her rocks and her songs.
Her curiosity about me equaled mine about her. I told her about the sea, cool and restless, the violet, green and blue of it, the salt, the ceaseless murmur and the kinds of life I’d discovered within it.
For a long time, we met and talked through the crack. I did not go to her every day, but I always returned. She was not always there, either, but I knew I’d see her again.
As I explored, I looked now for vents in the ocean floor where Pele’s heat warmed the water and strange creatures dwelt. I noted the cone-shaped volcanoes on the ocean floor with new eyes. Sometimes land volcanoes erupted, sending columns and clouds of ash and smoke into the sky, and molten rock flowed like orange and red rivers into the sea, hissing and boiling. Now I knew these were Pele’s expressions, her passion, her violence, her power. The land is never truly still, just as the ocean isn’t, but shaping land takes ages upon ages and power upon power.
One day I told Pele I loved her and she put her hands on either side of the crack and pulled it apart, muscles bulging under her midnight skin, and I fell into her mighty arms.
That was how it began. We fascinated one another. She inflamed me, and I quenched her. We made the earth shake and the waves surge with our passion. Tendrils of fiery rock crept from volcanoes when I put my lips to her navel and tasted her jewel and her dusky skin.
Centuries passed, and sometimes we were apart for long periods, she on her business and I on mine. She necessarily worked alone, and she was jealous of the people I knew. I didn’t dare tell her about Nama, who was equally beautiful in her own right. We were lovers only briefly, Nama and I. Once I saw Pele, I wanted no other.”
We fought now and then. She screamed, sulked and threw things. She tortured me by refusing her body. She withdrew to halls of her kingdom so deep not even the salamanders and bats could find her. But we always reconciled, until the last time.
Pele grew preoccupied and gloomy. I was used to her rages, intense but brief, but I’d never seen her smolder and glower for such a long period of time. She stopped singing and humming. She took no interest in cooking, drinking, smoking or dancing, as though her sensuality withered. I asked her what was wrong, but she refused to tell me. She turned away from my advances and avoided my touch.
She hurt my pride. I lost my temper and told her she was a tiresome woman and if she wouldn’t have me, plenty others would, including her sister, Nama. That roused her. She made the earth shake with her rage and she began throwing rocks at me, breathing on each until it flared red-hot before hurling it. Her snake writhed around her until she looked like a scorched Medusa.
I dove into the sea and left, and I never returned.”
“Huh,” said Rumpelstiltskin after a long pause.
“I acted like a fool,” said Poseidon, gloomy now.
“You’re here now,” Rumpelstiltskin pointed out.
“She’ll probably throw me into a lake of molten rock,” said Poseidon.
A band of bright sunlight moved nearer and nearer the crack where Ash and Beatrice were concealed. The brightening light hurt Ash’s eyes. He squinted. A gargantuan yawn nearly split him in two.
“I need some sleep,” he said to Beatrice. “I’m going back to the cavern.”
He launched himself soundlessly into the morning air, hasty and fugitive as a night shadow overtaken by dawn, and sought a roost in the cave’s cool darkness.
They slept.