Chapter 15 - The Sleeping Rose Awakens







"...Her footprints led to a mound of stones. It looked like a big gray igloo, but it was a cairn -- one of the Neolithic tombs after which Cairnholm was named.



The cairn was a little taller than me, long and narrow with a rectangular opening in one end, like a door, and it rose from the mud on a tussock of grass...The opening was the entrance to a tunnel that burrowed deep inside. Intricate loops and spirals had been carved on either side, ancient hieroglyphs the meaning of which had been lost to the ages.



Inside, the cairn tunnel was damp and narrow and profoundly dark...I crawled back on my hands and knees...unfolded myself from the cairn tunnel and stepped outside only to be blinded by light.



Shielding my eyes, I squinted through split fingers at a world I hardly recognised...the same bog and and same path as before but for the first time since my arrival it was bathed in cheery yellow sunlight...no trace of the twisting fog that, for me had come to define this part of the island.



Where this morning a battalion of tractors had plied the gravel paths, hauling carts loaded with fish and peat-bricks, now those carts were being pulled by horses and mules. The clip-clop of hooves had replaced the growl of engines."



Ransom Riggs
Miss Peregrine's Home For Peculiar Children




                                                                 

                    . . . .




"Queer things you do hear these days, to be sure," said Sam.



"Ah," said Ted, "You do if you listen. But I can hear fireside tales and childen's stories at home if I want to."



"No doubt you can," retorted Sam, "and I dare say there's more truth in some of them than you reckon."




J.R.R. Tolkien
Fellowship of the Ring


                                                                           . . . . .



                                                             

                              . . . .



Vous ne trouvez pas le Saint Graal, c'est le Saint Graal qui vous trouve.


                                                             

You do not find the Grail, the Grail finds you.


                                                                    . . . . .


"Most of Disney’s hidden messages dealt with religion, pagan myth, and stories of the subjugated goddess. It was no mistake that Disney retold tales like Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, and Snow White—all of which dealt with the incarceration of the sacred feminine. Nor did one need a background in symbolism to understand that Snow White—a princess who fell from grace after partaking of a poisoned apple—was a clear allusion to the downfall of Eve in the Garden of Eden. Or that Sleeping Beauty’s Princess Aurora—code-named "Rose" and hidden deep in the forest to protect her from the clutches of the evil witch— was the Grail story for children."


Margaret Starbird


                                                                                   

                                                                   
                                                                           * * * *




It was not early morning when Emlyn awoke, although it was hard to tell; clouds covered sun and sky and, as Athena had predicted, yet more snow had engulfed the surroundings.




Although late morning, it was chilly still. Em thought she was used to cold, waking in the Sierra foothills to freezing temperatures of a winter, but this cold was decidedly colder. Below freezing, and with air that held a certain dampness that inland California lacked, it seemed to seep into her skin. She shivered as she recalled Rosa pining for the Bay Area when she was here; moaning that her 'bones were cold'.
  Em knew just what she meant.




After her ablutions and hurried dressing, Emlyn headed downstairs to the kitchen for tea.
   No dainty cup would do today; she took hold of one of Daryl's big earthenware mugs and added honey and lemon both after brewing a stiff hot pot.




Idly, she wondered where Daryl and Mr. Yeats could be as she sipped.
  Warming up her mugful, she padded past the silent parlor and headed toward the library, pausing at the big double doors; one of which stood partially open. She could hear voices inside...yes, they were deep in discussion about something in earnest tones.



  Without actually meaning to, Em wondered what they could be conversing upon so intently, and leaned to listen from without...




'Trying to track exactly where and when things began to...go south, let's say, is certainly a needle in a haystack full of needles...' Daryl growled, sounding frustrated. 'The truth is like that old saying, 'a condundrum within an enigma wrapped in a mystery' or some such...'




'"JFK", I believe. Camelot,' was Mr. Yeats laconic reply. He sighed. 'Indeed, Kennedy fared about as well as Arthur.'
  'Yes, well, trying to abolish the Fed...talk about fighting a dragon!' Daryl added. 'We can't go there.'
  'JFK, perhaps not. But, Camelot? Perhaps.' Yeats breathed out slowly.


                                                                         

   T'was then Em detected the smell of sweet pipe tobacco. Yeats smoked a pipe? Ah, that was why the door was conveniently open. She inched closer to  better listen:
  'You know as well as I, that truths throughout time, have always remained hidden within the seemingly innocuous.'




Daryl chuckled softly. 'Indeed; it was through intensive study of mythologies as well as folk tales and legends, that I was able to discover many of the hidden antiquities that I have been able to unearth.'




'Much like Schliemann did with Troy...' Yeats breathed. 'You know, there were modern myths also which disguised terrible truths; in the treaty signed by the Japanese in WWII, Japan was never to mention the bomb. Taboo, that. And so, they created a monstrous horror which attacked and decimated their cities and population: --  Godzilla.'



Em could hear more soft growling noises from Daryl but she couldn't make out his reply. She recalled Jack had mentioned that name before; something about a giant lizard.
   They were speaking again; Daryl this time...



'The genius of Einstein led to the horror of Hiroshima, someone once said...but, yes. Those in the know do not lightly dismiss the goldmine of forbidden knowledge hidden within myth and folk and fairy tales. Such was driven underground by the heavy hand of the Church, which conveyed as much power or more, than monarchies...' Daryl paused and then recited:


        "Goosey goosey gander, whither do you wander? Upstairs downstairs, in milady's chamber. There they found an old man who wouldn't say his prayers, they grabbed him by the left leg and threw him down the stairs..."'




'Ah, Cromwell...' Yeats commented. '...and the bloody Puritans, whom no one missed when they came here, and started burning witches and becoming a thorn in the natives sides.' Em could hear a knocking sound echoing; ah, Yeats emptying pipe ash.



   He continued: 'They really did that, you know, during the Reformation, checked people's houses to make sure they were properly prayerful with no Papist contraband about. If all was not sufficiently Puritan, a type of torture was enjoyed by the Roundheads of tossing people repeatedly down stone stairs. Just as Jesus would have done, no doubt!'


                                                                     

'Second-guessing gods has ever been the way of despots and madmen,' Daryl agreed.




At this point, Emlyn was too intrigued to linger outside. With a soft tap at the door, she entered as though she had just come upon the library this instant.
  'Good morning,' offered the Innocent Maiden to the Wise Council.




'Ah, and here is our good lady of the house!' Daryl held out a welcoming arm toward her.
  '"Softly she comes upon her hour..."' Yeats quoted, hefting a mighty brow skyward at her approach.




'Please, don't let me interrupt!' Emlyn went to the sofa and seated herself, idly examining the piles of books, papers and maps upon the table before them.
    'Or was your subject matter unsuitable for a lady's ears?'



Daryl slithered behind the sofa and bending, put a light hand upon her shoulder and breathed softly into those ears:
 '...In which case yours would be burning, non, ma chere'?'



   Em blushed, knowing Daryl had been aware of her...lurking. He feathered a kiss at her ear and straightened. '"A little touch of Harry in the night,"' he chuckled, and tossed pieces of firewood onto the grate.




Yeats, thankfully, gave no sign of their exchange.    However...
   'I am happy to see the both of you coming round to taking on your new duties with all the seriousness they deserve.' He set his tea down and clasped his hands before him, one eyebrow elevated in inquiry as he regarded them both with a weighty eagle eye.




Both Daryl and Emlyn looked chagrined as they met one anothers gaze.
  'Actually, Sean...' Daryl seated himself at the  the sofa's other end. 'I'm rather unclear on all of that. I, we, are hoping you might be able to enlighten us. I, ah,' he ran a guilty hand through his hair, 'have had some ideas about these particular items being somewhat a cut above the usual, even in my collection...'





Yeats snorted softly, and tapped his pipe onto the hearth. 'That's putting it mildly,' he whispered hoarsely as he put it back in his pocket.
  'I think you may not have known, positively, what you were getting, but I do believe that you decidedly were hoping...' he cleared his throat then continued, '...that 'the Items' could be, what they, in fact, ARE.'




'Alright. Let us just for a moment, accept all this,' Daryl tried his best at naivete'...
  'What, exactly, is our role to be? To whom do we answer? Yeats, man, I...I know I may have stumbled into something perhaps more than I bargained for...'




'-- When did you come to that conclusion? When you were staked out on a pyramid about to become a human sacrifice to the elder gods?' Yeats murmured as he poured more tea.



Daryl was so positively humbled he nearly blushed.
  'Yes. Then, too.' He did not add that he had gotten his first inkling when Yeats, as a crusader for the pope's inquisition, had taken Daryl's head, back during the Albigensian crusade.
 -- But he knew they were both thinking about it.



'Alright. First then, no more of that!' Yeats frowned at Daryl, crossing his arms before him. 'You cannot afford to play such dangerous games. Especially now...' His gaze wandered down and his frown deepened.




  'We cannot afford to take such chances,' he continued, 'however it has come to be, you are now both caretakers of a dangerous secret, and are being given this chance to make it work. FOR us this time. No more of your own personal side trips! You both have certain responsibilities now.' He paused, crossed his legs before him and sighed.
   'Becoming engaged though...I wonder...' he murmured. 'Well, too late now.' He tapped the edge of the table thrice to punctuate:'The Lodge has accepted you as sister and brother. It is to them, you will answer.'



Emlyn spoke, 'Do you mean, the, ah, initiation we experienced? With Raimundo and Sebastiao?'



Yeats answered, 'I do. It is their Order which has the possession of and rights to, the Items. Of course, no one can actually possess the pieces; They travel where, and to whom, They will.'



Daryl sat forward, hands clasped on his knees before him, eager suddenly.
   'Tell me then; the Items...could they possibly be traced back to Portugal then?'




Both eyebrows flew skyward. Em imagined them taking wing, heaven-bound, from Yeats' brow as he answered...
  'Yes. If you must make that connection, you may. When the Templars were being hunted, Portugal was a comparatively safe place of refuge.'




Yeats stood then and strode slowly to the mantle piece, feeling about his pockets. As he tipped more tobacco into his pipe, Daryl slid a glance at Em and smiled as he leaned back and made himself comfortable, preparing for another Lecture by Yeats.
   Truthfully, Em adored these...
   '...If, the lady in question will not object to my pipe?'
   Em smiled. 'I personally like the scent. Smells of cherry-wood.'




The older gentleman smiled and retrieved a stick from the fire and lighting it, applied it to pipe, puffing away like Gandalf at his Old Toby.



   'It was widely supposed that the Newport Tower, long thought to be a Templar edifice, was built by Miguel Cortereal, who was shipwrecked in the early 16th century searching for his brother Gaspar.
  'Gaspar, you may know, was a member of the Portuguese order of the Templars, renamed the Order of the Knights of Christ in 1320, to avoid persecution.  The king of Portugal himself became grand master of the order, as did Henry the Navigator. Oh, yes, Portugraal,' Yeats paused, emphasizing the word's last syllable, 'has had a hand in the history of...the Items. Off and on. For many years. As had Scotland, and France, and Spain, of course, as you well know...'


                                                                   

Daryl 'hmm'd' and began to search through the piles on the table. He opened a portfolio and pulled forth a large-ish map. This he spread upon the table as Em helped clear a space.




Daryl's own eyebrow elevated itself to Yeats' latitude as he regarded his auld acquaintance.
   'You mentioned the Newport Tower...' he looked down at the map. 'I suppose you are familiar with
legends of the Templars in the New World, then.'


                                                                                         

                 



Yeats' brows remained upon high, but his lids sank low over his golden eyes like the setting of the sun, in mimed boredom.
  'Who isn't...?' he answered dryly, blowing a lazy smoke ring.
   Daryl seemed slightly frustrated at that.
  'Alright, well...so, there's nothing to it?'




'My dear boy, why do you insist upon playing the innocent? We here ALL know what you are hinting round about.' Yeats leaned his chin upon the hand upon the mantle. 'Oh, very well, then...' He bent low and knocked his pipe out into the fire.




'If you MUST know,' Yeats resumed his seat in the wing chair, 'yes, Axelis and I are ah, 'in the neighborhood', seeking titanium. Not exactly plentiful in Massachusetts, no, but, close enough for us to stop by, whilst en route...'




'Ah. I thought so!' Daryl breathed, studying the map. 'Light blue steel. The secret of the Templars success during the Crusades. And it was never found in such a great quantity as it was here, in the New World, was it?'




'He with the best sword wins. And the Knights Templar did, with their light blue steel. Until the Damascus steel of the Saracens bit back harder, and Jerusalem was lost.' Yeats stared into the fire, drumming his fingers on the chair arm.



  'But enough of all that. We are here, to deliver a warning: do not use the Items unless under instructions by the Order, or myself, or Axelis, to do so. No one else!' Feathery salt and pepper eyebrows beetled menacingly at Daryl. 'Well, perhaps Thelene...,' he added, as he stroked his chin.



Having captured their gaze in his talons, he continued,
  'And, another warning, take heed! Keep in mind that the Others are up to something, and the Professor as well.' Yeats sighed as he looked down.



  'I hate to say as much, but you might also want to keep rather more of an eye on Jack as well. He was with the Others longer than any we know who was ever able to escape. Either he may have some new insights, or he might show signs of manipulation by them. Remember, he himself did not recall what all was done to him whilst under their control.'




'How did it all come about though?' Emlyn's brow was knotted with confusion. 'I know what happened after, the outcome, basically, but, when the takeover happened, -- how, exactly?'




Daryl's turn to sigh.
'It had been millennia in the making. There was a brilliant novel by a 20th Century science fiction writer, Marion Zimmer Bradley, called 'World Wreckers'. It is based on what in the old financial world was known as 'corporate raiding' -- a group or corporation that coveted a smaller company would insidiously sabotage that company, bringing it to its knees, really. Then, when the company had to ask for help, the larger corporation would 'generously' offer to bail it out, for only the price of a sizable take-over.'


                                                                           

                         



Yeats leaned forward and engaged Emlyn. 'Here, they were brutal. The government, the culture, religion; all were geared toward entropy and excess; complete wasting of the planet and its natural resources was the plan. No conservation or control was ever allowed to really make any difference in the long run.'



'Anything related to saving the earth, the planet, the air, water, food...ecology, as we called it, had been systematically tainted for centuries,' Daryl broke in, '...tainted by the primordial mud of the earth goddess. Mother Earth, the sacred feminine, conservation, cooperation, was frowned upon as not only anti=Christian but unpatriotic.
   'It was considered 'unmanly' to do anything but pillage and plunder and lay waste to the world; never mind that the world would be made a wasteland and the end of us all, ultimately.'




Yeats sighed. 'And then, when the people were drowning in garbage, without air, water, food...then they were offered, 'assistance'...'




Daryl continued, 'People had no choice but to accept the help of the Others. The pollution, the poison, the devastation was such that the planet was effectively dying. Our future had been sold to the highest bidder. A devil's bargain...which we are still paying for.'



Suddenly all heads turned to the door, for there stood Athena.
   'Ah. I see I am come just in time!'

                                                                                           

                                                                                 . . . .



'Ah, my dear! Entre', do!' Daryl stood and smiled, holding forth an arm toward Athena, who, apparently, had a key.




'Hope I'm not interrupting...' Athena smiled as she took the chair next to Yeats.
   'Not at all, in fact, we would welcome your input,' Emlyn assured her. 'Tea?'
   Athena nodded, 'Thank you. Rather chilly, out.'




Although Emlyn was anxious to hear what all Athena, (and Axelis) had been up to, she also was finally getting some concrete answers to some long-standing questions from the men, and wished for them to continue.
   'So, these Others are in control of at least two timelines on earth, now, yes? The 2076 of Athena and Daryl's time, and when or wherever Athena and Jack traveled?'



Daryl and Yeats locked gazes for a moment.
  '-- At least,' Yeats answered solemnly.




Athena sat back with her tea and sipped. 'Umm. Wonderfully strong, Em, thanks.' She crossed her shapely legs and smiled.
  'You know, when Daryl first brought me over, back to 1876...the first thing I thought was,
'It isn't all ugly anymore!' She poured more tea.
   'Well, actually, I think the first thing was, 'I can breathe the air!' But oh, I shall never miss the sight of grey, concrete block architecture or pink plastic anything...'




Daryl smiled at her. 'I remember. Gods, how glad I was to get you safely out of that, that wretchedness...'  He stared out the window, a pained look to him.



Athena turned to Emlyn. 'You see, even before the Others took over, people were becoming more and more like them, like machines. More artificial, more enslaved by computers and seduced by them. And, yes, Em, in your time, is when it began to take hold en masse'...'



'Partly,' Yeats added, 'when Martin Luther cracked the power of the Church, and the Iron Fist of the Pope was no longer the Witch Hammer that it was, it did open the path for science, somewhat,'
  'When folk were burnt at the stake for thinking the world is round and the earth revolves about the sun, it had put rather a damper upon scientific exploration...'



'Yes, but then the Protestants began seeing the devil in their oatmeal of a morning...' Daryl growled to himself. 'Then, it was the Pope being characterized with a forked tail and horns, for a change.'



'...After all that,' Athena wrangled the conversation back to the point, 'along came the Industrial Revolution, and the machine was the new god. Art, and architecture, music, and writing, even dance, all devolved, into something less fine, more robotic, more abbreviated, and always, more 'practical...'




'Mercy...' Yeats put a long hand to his long-suffering brow, '...the horror of modern art, architecture and music!' He muttered; closing his eyes and saying nothing more for some time.




'Yes, that's what I mean,' Athena continued,'I know I should have been more...appreciative of the basics: clean food, water, air, and freedom at last!
  'But,' she grinned, 'oh, how I was starved for beauty! It was nearly all gone in nature, and what served for buildings in my time, were these horrid great blocks of concrete! Just square, plain, grey warrens built for business and for domiciles. Of course, when the population became untenable, this was indeed the only practical application...
         ' Such is what comes of people who are no longer in touch with themselves, the earth, nature, the world about them. And when reverence is lost for the planet, for Gaia, for the goddess and womankind, then the wasteland becomes the peoples' only legacy. If people had been told the truth, they would have planned better unto the 7th generation to come, as the First Nations People would say. The world awaited a savior, whilst, unbeknownst to them, she lay, waiting for the world to awaken and acknowledge her, Gaia, our only planet of choice. Until then, she lay as in limbo...'

                                                                                                 

'But even before,' interrupted Daryl, 'when we were just recovering from the war, we were a more hopeful planet then...population wasn't out of control, quite yet, and folk were so decimated by the two wars, that all the world wanted was peace for a while, and home, and security. People craved the comfort of family and a sense of place.'




'Wars?' Emlyn asked. 'There seem to be so many, I can't quite keep them all straight...'
   'We came to be a country with a war-based economy, Em,' Athena told her soberly. 'All would agree that World War II was a battle against nothing but pure evil. But, when there weren't enemies actually at the gates, the elite would create war. Saber-rattling, it was called...they had found that war was 'good business'. Indeed, empires were built upon armaments.'



'Gulf of Tonkin, 'Remember the Maine'! -- and all that...' Daryl growled softly. 'No one knew why or what the hell the first World War was about! A bloody waste and a crime...the first of many more to come.
  'Keep folk in a state of constant anxiety and terror and they won't even consider anything other than basic survival; eager to comply with their 'Protectors' demands...all our tax dollars go to war? Wonderful! Can't have it any other way!'




Daryl stood and began pacing, he'd worked himself up again. '...Henry Ford, Vanover Bush, the Koch empire; all were delighted to find there was gold in them thar wars...'



                                                             

Silence for a time. Yeats leaned over and added wood to the fire.
   'It was a march toward entropy, and perhaps, extinction,' he admitted, 'It is the Kali Yuga, the Iron Age. Supposedly the Golden Age is to come, as it has before, as the wheel of karma spins round...'



'I suppose that's why I tried to preserve what I could of the best of what was left of it, with all my old books and films...' Athena mused.
  'I loved the old movies, books and art; especially films shot 'on location' as they called it. Very expensive to make, and so were out of fashion in my time.
  'But oh, how marvelous to actually see the beautiful old Gothic cathedrals and stately homes and castles, libraries and museums, built by architects who knew and cared about such things as balance and perspective in geometry, the Golden Mean, Fibonacci sequence, how to create harmony and resonance...'



'--We are back in ancient Egypt now, my dear,' Yeats smiled at Athena's reminisces. 'That is where it all began. Solomon's Temple owed all of its might and grandeur to the Egyptian arts of architecture.'



'Indeed, Sean. That is why I mentioned 'resonance', or assonance. The Egyptians were masters of Son et Lumiere long before the sound and light shows of modern times blasted the pyramids with garish lasers! Ah, how the mighty have fallen...'
  Athena slipped a wink at Em.




'Sound and light. Yes, the old structures, Newgrange, Stonehenge, the pyramids, were built
with such delicate, precise angles as to capture sound and light, sometimes only at specific, power-infused times of the year,' Daryl said.


                                                               

   'Sound, light, and above all, music...it's always there, though,' he pondered, 'the music of the spheres. Einstein was right when he said that genius lies in the power of receptivity. Even if all the Mozart, the Beethoven, the Rachmaninov were irretrievably lost, someone, sometime, somewhere, would pick up on it again. It is timeless. It is eternal...it's out there,'for those with ears to hear.''



'I have ears to hear, Daryl!' Athena curled up in her chair, settling in. 'How about it, eh?'
   The others added their encouragement, egging Daryl on, until --



'Ah, very well, then!' Daryl grinned half a smile on one side of his face, as he ambled over to an armoire and brought forth a violin. Tucking it under his chin and tuning it casually, he inquired, 'What would you care to hear?'



'Tchaikovski.' Athena offered.




Daryl bowed and raised his fiddle, plucking notes.
The others spoke softly meanwhile, and made themselves comfortable with more tea...and then...
    ...such notes arose from the instrument that all their spirits lifted aloft, bearing them far from entropy and ennui.



Athena smiled wide and began to hum, and then to softly sing:
   'I know you, I danced with you, Once Upon A Dream...'



Emlyn joined Athena, humming in harmony, moving slightly in time to the music. Sleeping Beauty Waltz...it was perfect.
   Mr. Yeats unfolded his lanky self from the heath chair and approached Athena, bowing.
   'May I have this dance?'



Athena nodded, and arose gracefully, taking his hand in hers, and they began to flow lightly about the room, waltzing away the heavy mood of the morning...
Athena still hummed quietly, as Daryl smiled and plied his bow.


                                                               

Emlyn enjoyed it all immensely. She had always suspected that the dour Yeats had a softer, nearly playful side. This was confirmed when, after spinning Athena about, he bowed to her, and then approached Em's seat.
   'Milady?' He inquired, holding out an entreating hand.



Em grinned and joined him; noting his great height as she did so...goodness but Mr. Yeats was taller even than Daryl. One did not notice until one was so close up; she felt rather tiny as he spun her about,   '"Skating away on the thin ice of a new day..."' he intoned deeply, as she noted his eyes leave hers and focus somewhere over her shoulder. He brought their dance to a sudden halt.



Daryl's notes faltered then, too.  His were eyes directed behind her and he seemed to turn a whiter shade of pale.
   Emlyn turned around, completely unprepared for what she now beheld:
   Axelis. Her father. All seven or so feet of him.
...Yeats now seemed dwarfish.




Axelis smiled softly. 'May I cut in?'


                                                                           * * * *                                                                                
WATCH AND LISTEN!!
                                      KIROV BALLET
                      . . . .The Sleeping Beauty, Waltz

Chapter 14 - E = All That Is

Chapter 14 - E = All That Is


.::Arthur as Astronomical Principal
   The 4th of the traditional astronomical seasons is Alban Arthuan, the light that is in darkness, for Arthur is in the place where the sun never comes, around the pole star.
   There is the mystic sky area of Arthur, the circle gorola; Arthur means the bear, and he is both the Great and the Little Bears.

His kingdom is the sky area of the circumpolar stars; his soul or high self points to the pole star, the axis of the universe.  Fixed as the standard of an unchanging truth, stella polaris' ray is received into the forehead of everyone whose concern is with truth.
   Of this, the Great Bear is the appointed guardian and the Little Bear the demonstrator.

Changing the figure, Arthur is Aradr, the ploughman of the heavens, when the Bear is called the Plough.  He sows the seeds of truth perpetually into dark soil.
  

Aloft Arthur rides, guiding us, guarding us, perhaps saving us, with the regularity of the ever-turning apogee, the heavens at their highest point for the northern hemisphere::.

Ross Nichols
The Book of Druidry


                              

                              . . . .

"I am convinced that for man to survive now, his perception must change at its social base."

"What is this social base of perception, don Juan?"

"The physical certainty that the world is made of concrete objects.  I call this a social base because a serious and fierce effort is put out by everybody to guide us to perceive the world the way we do."

"How then should we perceive the world?"

"Everything is energy.  The whole universe is energy. The social base of our perception should be the physical certainty that energy is all there is.  A mighty effort should be made to guide us to perceive energy as energy.  Then we would have both alternatives at our fingertips."


Carlos Castaneda
The Art of Dreaming



                              

                            * * * *


Once the shock had abated, Mr. Yeats was welcomed most fulsomely with warm brandy to the fireside...

 Daryl seemed especially discombobulated, but very glad to find Yeats here suddenly at his hearth.
  'My dear Yeats...,' he began, running a hand through his hair, and grinning as he shook his head slowly, '...you amaze me. I am never more happy to see anyone, here, now,' he stammered, confused.


Mr. Yeats crossed his long legs seated at the wingchair vacated by Daryl and sipped his cognac slowly, sighing. He observed the room about him serenely.
   'I happened to be in the neighborhood.'


This response sent Daryl into a quick fit of hastily stifled giggles. 'Indeed?!' He rubbed his forehead, then took hold of himself and sat in the chair beside Yeats.
  'And, what brings you to...the neighborhood?' He noticed he was still shaking slightly. Fearing Axelis at any moment no doubt.


Yeats let his gaze rest upon Emlyn a moment. He then looked over to Athena who sat upright now, intent upon him. He leaned forward.
  'I do not believe we have been properly introduced, milady...'

'Forgive us, Mr. Yeats!' Emlyn recovered herself, 'Allow us to present our dear friend and neighbor, Athena...' Em realized she had forgotten, perhaps never known, Athena's full name. She was simply as the goddess herself.

Yeats and Athena stood as one and, taking her hand, he brushed lips atop her fingers. 'Sean Devin Roland Yeats, at your service,' he murmured.
   Athena dropped a small curtsy, eyes lowered. 'Milord,' she answered, a wisp of a smile upon her features.
   Yeats had the same smile. They seemed to be sharing a mutual secret as yet unguessed by the others.
   Emlyn shot a look to Daryl; he glanced back her way, a finger across his lips, wonderingly.


Yeats straightened and gazed about the parlor. 'Seems odd to be, here. A long time gone.' He looked pointedly at Daryl. 'So much has happened, yes?'
   Daryl dropped a sigh. 'Yes.' He hardly knew where to begin.

 The older man went to his side and put a hand upon his shoulder. 'It has been a hard road, for you all. I'm aware, in part, of what has transpired recently.' He removed his hand, finished his drink and set his glass upon the tea table.
  'I believe you, and Emlyn, have now become Keepers...is this not so?'


Emlyn looked at Daryl. Apparently, so they had. What all that entailed, however, she'd no idea.
    Yeats turned to her then. 'That, is why I am now here, my dear,' he answered her thoughts. Dear old Yeats...
   She smiled. 'I'm glad.'

Yeats broke into a rare smile himself. 'That is well, for I may be here a little while...a night or two. If I may impose?'
   'We would like nothing better, my dear Yeats!' Daryl assured him. 'May I offer something from the kitchen?' Daryl tried to recall exactly what he had on offer...

 Mr. Yeats held up a hand. 'Ah...some coffee, perhaps? You and I, I am afraid, may be in conference for a while.' He turned then to Em and Athena, 'If, you could excuse us, ladies; we will be getting our ducks in a row, so to speak, and then we may all have a confab together...in the library, I believe, yes?'
He held out his hand in that general direction, as a shepherd directs his flock.

Daryl realised then that some things were indeed not so easily hidden...from some.

                             . . . .

'So, you know Axelis, but not Mr. Yeats?' Emlyn inquired of Athena as they sat with their own coffee in the kitchen.
   'Ye-yess...' Athena demurred, 'I have seen him, about...but we have never come face to face before.'


Hm. Interesting answer, Em thought. 'Well, I, for one, am rather glad of our chance to chat a bit ourselves.' She regarded Athena, who looked every bit as pleased as herself at this prospect.
  'Meanwhile...we'll get something rather supper-ish together, I suppose.'

'"Supper-ish", I can do,' Athena assured her. As the two women poked about the kitchen, Em soon found Athena knew her way about Daryl's house more than she, and so gratefully acquiesced to Athena's directions.
 

Chopping vegetables for a quiche, Emlyn decided to inquire further into the dangerous unknown.
   'So...what of your midnight ride tonight, eh?'

Athena smiled at the bowl full of ripe persimmons she was squashing to make spice bread.
  'You know, you can draw a very large hexagon from Capella, to Castor/Pollux, then to Procyon, Sirius, over to Rigel at the lower/right corner of Orion, and back up to Aldebaran in Taurus. That is the “Winter Circle” or “Winter Hexagon.”' Athena told her, circling about Em's question.


                              

 

 

  '...Of course, Orion and the Pleiades are bright in the winter skies...' She paused, '...it is a lovely night for star-gazing.'

'Is it? I thought a snow storm was threatening.' Em's eyebrow was at its zenith.
   'The sky is a very wide playing field...' Athena commented, unruffled, as she added chopped pecans to the mix.

Emlyn considered this, and found herself somewhat jealous of Athena's gadding about the galaxy with her ever-absent father. Unworthy thoughts, true, but still...
  Well, she had been busy gadding about with Daryl, and others in Otherworlds herself, sans Athena. Silly indeed, to be so mean-spirited.
  'I do wish you joy of one another,' she spoke low as she beat her eggs to death...

Athena calmly shoved her bread pan into the oven. 'It's hot enough now!' She announced, as she washed her hands.
   Em's quiche was placed next to the bread.
  'Both should be done at about the same time.' Athena
smiled at Emlyn.

'Yes. We work well enough together,' the older woman put an arm about Em's shoulders. 'You know, there is nothing your father would wish more than to be able to spend more time with you, and Anara, as well. It simply is not safe. These are dangerous times, you know...both yours and mine.'


She took a seat at table and Em joined her there, bringing the bowl of pecans.
   'I am always being told that now; that 'my' time, as you say, was rather a turning point, in many ways,' she commented, pouring coffee.


'You have read Marx and Engels, yes?' Athena regarded Em, who nodded. 'You know Karl Marx wanted to write a book on art, which he loved. However, after witnessing the horrors of factory life for workers in Manchester, he said his conscience would not allow him to rest until he wrote that little book on economics...' Athena wore a small sad smile.
                             

'Yes.' Em looked pensive. 'I used to have hopes for women's voting rights, and for socialism, but, after knowing the future...nothing has changed, and in fact, we nearly come close to destroying not only ourselves but the very planet itself.' She sighed.

'There were changes made by both movements, good ones.' Athena touched her hand briefly. 'But the elite could never allow the people to have any power, of course, and gains were always followed by a war, usually, or economic collapse, or a so-called 'natural' disaster, which always pushes the masses back down in the hole again. Keeping minorities and women in a 2nd class citizen position, has always been the goal of politics and religion. Truly, alas, even in my day, nothing much has changed there.'

They sat quietly with their coffee listening to the weather outside.
  'Wind is up,' Athena noted.
  'That shouldn't be a problem, if you are taking the conveyance I believe you might...' Em murmured.

'Emlyn, dear...' Athena poured a warm-up. 'You do realise that Axelis and I are friends. I think of him as a mentor. Much as, I would suppose, you think of your Mr. Yeats.'

  
She stirred in honey and continued:
   'I can't imagine ever wanting anything from Axelis except his vast fund of knowledge. He is, a very interesting being. But, well...if you seek someone who may be a real father...' she slowly shook her head, '...I don't think he has it in him. I do not think that their culture runs along the same lines as ours. For one, I believe that much fostering is done. One does not remain with one's birth parents long; much like what once was done amongst Keltic tribes, way back when.'
  Athena paused. 'I guess I'm trying to tell you that, well, he isn't exactly a 'warm' sort of...person.'


Emlyn couldn't think of any fathers who were, really.
Even the human ones. Which Axelis certainly wasn't.
   'It's a shame really...'


'Yes, the whole set-up is a shame, and shameful...' Athena returned to her earlier subject. 'Most people I knew, grew up with, worked with, were still ferociously inculcated with the notion that, even though the planet was running out of air, land, water, food, resources, space...that there was no reason not to have as many children as one wished, or to cut back at all on having everything one wished, for any reason, ever.
   'We knew that an economy based on endless wars would only doom us all, but no one seemed able to do anything about it. Our lives were not our own. It was out of our hands. Frankly, it never had been. It was all an artificial construct, the world-view enforced by various demagogues.'

'Are we doomed, then?' Em inquired, laconically, playing Old Nick's advocate.

'Of course not. That is, we are not...you know better, as do I. As does Daryl, and Mr. Yeats. You know that a human is something other than a brain, a nervous system, a body. Amazingly, most people do not. And worse, they refuse to even consider anything else, any available potential. Such has been the success of society and religion; to make people believe they are dumb and docile as possible. Do not wonder. Do not strive beyond what a blind worm thinks may be 'possible'.'

Emlyn laughed and Athena chuckled. 'We know, beyond any doubt, that the possibilities are endless, and infinite as the stars...'

                            

The kitchen door swung open then, and Daryl's head poked round. 'Something smells inviting...' he smiled and entered then, with Yeats hovering on his heels.
  He went to the oven and held his hands over it, inhaling. 'Quiche? I believe?'

'You had ham, and mushrooms...preserved artichoke hearts, peppers...' Emlyn smiled at him.
   '...Divine...' Daryl's hands hovered over the oven.
'I shouldn't open it, I know...but, ah,' he sniffed, 'some sort of spice bread; can't quite place it...'

'Persimmon.' Mr. Yeats was adamant.
'Got it one, Yeats!' Daryl nodded. 'Yes, that's it!'

'It is, indeed,' Athena arose. 'You are somehow just in time for supper!' She went to the oven. 'Nearly there...'
   'Let us eat in the kitchen, shall we?' Daryl began setting places at the old oaken table. 'Warm in here.
And smells so lovely, yes?'

                      . . . .


A more European supper followed then, as it was late evening.
  The storm picked up strength and all paused occasionally to listen to the rising wind and tattoo of occasional hail on the windows. They kept the woodfire well stoked however and were in no hurry to leave the kitchen.

Daryl resumed his seat after adding more wood to the stove.
  'So, you have seen the Professor also,' he addressed Mr. Yeats, '...recently, then?'

'We...became aware of him not so long ago. Around Samhain,' Yeats answered slowly.
   'He actually was working with the Others. That is how we discovered him. They had found a means to extract him from the time warp and reintegrate his mass there, and put him to use.
   'Where Jack was taken, to the subregions below, in that same alternate timeline Athena experienced, that is where he now lives, moves and has his being...such as it is.'

Athena frowned. 'That horrible plastic world, ruled by the Others, in that alternate earth...where Jack was held captive...,' she drifted off, '...that awful place...'


   Yeats nodded. 'The same. Yes, it is a synthetic world, ruled by synthetic creatures. It is their wish to make all of humankind such as they are...
   'You see, in part, it was WE who created them. And then, it rather quickly became a rather eleemosynary relationship at best; but it was and is in actual fact, simple slavery...'


'A.I.' Daryl interposed. 'Artificial Intelligence. I knew that was a Frankenstein monster in the making...even back in my day.'


'Is this the analytical engine of Babbage's?' Emlyn asked.
  'It is an outgrowth of that,' answered Yeats, 'First, came the early computer models, and then...well, the parvenu became convinced that thinking faster, like a machine, would be the next step in 'evolution'. Imagine!' Yeats managed to look aghast and bored at the same time. 'Vitiation viewed as progress...'

Daryl cracked a nut. 'People became desperate to give up the only thing that could free them from the wheel of rebirth; that which makes us human.
   'And so, began implanting themselves with chips. Eventually, they doomed themselves to an inimical ennui...a soul-less existence, without relief, without feeling, and without end.'


All were quiet for a moment. They could hear, above the wind now, the soft sonorous chime of the Grandfather clock in the parlor announcing the witching hour...

And then --
  A flash of blue light streaked by the window suddenly.


Athena stood.
  She smiled at the assembled company.
  'I believe that's my ride...'

                         . . . .

                          

Ring Out Solstice Bells Jethro Tull Songs from the Wood
Ring Out Solstice Bells

Chapter 13 - Organisms Above and Beyond

Chapter 13 - Organisms Above and Beyond


"...They are  so ridiculous, these English magicians! They do everything in such a roundabout way. I tell you, Stephen, watching this fellow try to do magic is like watching a man sit down to eat his dinner with his coat on backwards, a blindfold round his eyes and a bucket over his head!  When did you ever see me perform such nonsensical tricks?  Draw forth my own blood or scribble words on paper? Whenever I wish to do something, I simply speak to the air - or to the stones -or to the sunlight - or the sea - or to whatever it is and politely request them to help me.  And then since my alliances with these powerful spirits were set in place thousands of years ago, they are only too glad to do whatever I ask."

-- The Gentleman, (a Fairy), to Stephen

from:
Susanna Clarke's
Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell

                          . . . .


"Your flaw is to remain glued to the inventory of reason.  Reason doesn't deal with man as energy. Reason deals with instruments that create energy, but it has never seriously occurred to reason that we are better than instruments: we are organisms that create energy..."


'Don Juan'
The Fire From Within
Carlos Castaneda

                               

                            * * * *


'Daryl...?' Emlyn called as she entered the big cold House.
'Wuf!' She kept her coat wrapped tightly about her as she went first to check the parlor where she noted a weak fire  beginning to catch there, but no sign of the Master of the House.


Kitchen, perhaps?
   Ah, a bit warmer here; someone had the woodstove going and a kettle on. Still no Daryl.
   The library, of course; that surely would be Daryl's hideout where he could secret and gloat over his Infernal Objects d'Arts...


As Em trek'd to the library's double doors she had a mental construct of Daryl bent Scrooge-like over his antiques and insalubrious acquisitions, rubbing hands together and chortling over his baneful booty...
  -- Ah, and so he was!


Well, perhaps not altogether so; He was standing hands on hips regarding Cup and Box before him upon the study desk. At least a fire was burning brightly here...Em removed her coat at last.


  She sidled up to him. 'Alright, luv?' She inquired, eyebrow at the arch and ready for action.
  'Hm. Yes...' He frowned at Cup and Box. Sighed. Then he seemed to see Em at last.
   He turned to her, smiled slightly and put an arm about her shoulders. 'You're cold still...' he hugged her to his side. 'It will warm in here soon. Manuel lighted the fires and then left, fast as a Chilean fleeing a snow storm, back to Fog City!'


'It is beginning to warm up here, a bit...' Emlyn tried to repress a shiver as she clung to Daryl like a heat-seeking lizard to a rock.
   'The...items are all here I see.'

 'Yes. Odd, though.' He chanced a glance her way, and back.
  'Just a moment ago, I thought I detected a sort of blueish glow about them both. It came, and then went...' His hand stretched toward the Things, and then flew off, and away.
   He suddenly recalled something, turning to Em. 'Where is Athena?'
   Em sighed. She had an idea what may have just caused such a glow.
  'Shall we sit at the fire a moment?'


Daryl nodded, and took a key from the desk drawer. Opening the armoire, he then sheathed the Cup and stowed it within, then setting the Box beside it, locked up.
 

'Daryl...the oddest thing just happened...outside,' she began as he took a seat beside her.
  'Athena and I were walking here, when we both saw a silver streak in the sky; it headed behind the birch grove and seemed to settle somewhere in the woods beyond.' She looked at Daryl closely to see if he understood what this might portend.
  She touched his arm to get his attention. 'I saw Athena meeting someone then, someone I knew.'


Daryl frowned before him, not looking at her. 'Who?' Daryl had an idea then, whom it may have been. He was not happy at the notion.
  'It was Axelis. My, ah, father. MEETING with Athena!' Em rubbed her forehead. 'I don't know what to think!'


'That explains the blue glow...' Daryl sighed. Ah, gods...Lord and Lady, this did not bode well.
  Daryl stood then and went to the mantle, drummed his fingers upon it. Put hands in his pockets and began to pace.
 -- Athena and Axelis!


Daryl had suspected, and in fact, had known, that Athena went timewalking and made journeys into Otherworlds on her own, for as long as he had known her. However...he never did enquire too closely into her personal business.


  Theirs had always been a friendly relationship; Daryl as her young admirer, had wished to offer his favorite librarian a refuge when he had made his escape into the alternate Timeline here. Athena had been more than willing to come.


But, just as she hadn't delved into Daryl's personal life, neither did he feel he'd any right to mind Athena's business; he'd enough of his own.
  He had noticed certain oddities about the skies, and around the Gatehouse, but that could have been attributed to almost anything, with this place...


                                       

  Then, too...this may be something new; he'd a thought just then: Oh, diosa...!
  Daryl's head fell forward into his hands; a low moan escaping him...


'Querido? Are you alright?' Emlyn sat forward, regarding Daryl.
   'Ooh...I, I don't really know!' Daryl scratched his hair, and turned a half-grinning, half-frowning countenance toward her. He looked like a man who, having played a practical joke upon someone, suddenly found it had blown up in his face.
   'I, I am just thinking that, you know...maybe...ah,' Daryl grabbed the poker and thrust it about the fire, then laughed, mirthlessly. He straightened up and leaned upon the poker, looking at Em.


'I, eh, just wondered if Axelis...if he KNOWS, Em! -- Ah!' Daryl shook the poker at nothing, then looked at it as if he had no idea what it was. Put it back in the rack.
   'Oh, Emlyn...why did I not even think of this?!' He plopped himself upon the sofa beside her once more, and bent over, head in hands again.
   'Diego -- ?' Emlyn put a tentative hand upon her suddenly unhinged partner.


  'Ooh...' Groaning again, Daryl looked up. 'Of course, he knows, he must. Emlyn...you are his daughter! I did not even consult him, before we...' Daryl swallowed, and choked, coughing.
  'Ah, gods...naturally he would be concerned about whom weds his daughter! Bloodlines tracked; in the making, bioengineered over the centuries...' Daryl regarded the fire in despair. 'I am in deep, dejecta...'


Emlyn stifled a chortle. She put her arm though his. 'Diosa, Diego! He knows you!' (Daryl flinched a bit at this thought.)
  'We are adults, cher! We need not ask permission, and even if -- I mean, how to accomplish such a maneuver? To get hold of Axelis? Ring him? Send a wireless? He is about the most insubstantial, amorphous being one could find...even more so than my other father...'
  Em simply couldn't believe Daryl was quaking in his boots at the thought of Axelis taking him to task for not asking for Emlyn's hand.


Daryl just looked at her. He simply couldn't believe that Emlyn was so dismissive of such egregious effrontery as he had surely presented toward his 7 foot tall future father-in-law with a Pleiadian warship...
   '-- Oy...' Daryl groaned, his head falling into his hands once again.


Emlyn bit her lip to keep from grinning. How quaint that Daryl would suddenly recall such tender niceties after the fact. She patted his shoulder in sympathy. Doofus.


Daryl tried to recall the last time he had seen Axelis...when it was he'd no idea, but it was decidedly whenever they had rescued Jack from the Maelstrom in the Bermuda Triangle, with said warship. It was rather something else again to think of such just outside his windows...


                             

  

Yeats had been aboard, also; he had been instrumental in Jack's deliverance. As had Thelene...but not Anara.
   Daryl's head jerked up. My gods and goddess...he'd forgotten that rather sticky aspect; he had once wooed Axelis'
other daughter as well, Anara. Emlyn's sister.


   Could it be any worse? What could Axelis possibly think of him, other than to consider him an opportunist of the worst sort?
   A revolutionary, a thief, (that is: some would argue the legality of some of his acquisitions), not quite an arms-dealer, (although some would argue this point, also), a conniving, womanizing rapscallion, kidnapping Emlyn and dragging her across centuries and worlds not her own, embroiling them in wars, duels, battles and beheadings (his own), natural disasters and possible human sacrifice...(his own again, as well; having only been just saved by Em.)
   Oh, he had much to recommend himself as a prospective son-in-law, alright...


'Was that a knock at the front door?' Emlyn glanced behind her.
   Daryl leapt up like a scalded cat. His fur would have stood up if he'd any. Defenselessly human in his skin, his stomach roiled and he broke out in a cold sweat. He ran a hand through his already-much-disheveled hair and wondered if he could flee out the window. Or into another century...another planet.
   He'd a sinking feeling the infernal warship could follow him to the Otherworld and take the hounds of Annwn after him with it.
   -- Nothing for it.
  'I'll...go see,' he croaked hoarsely.


                          . . . .


Walking as to his doom, Daryl slowly approached the front door which rattled under the knocker's blows. His mouth was dry as Martian dust and his bowels suddenly felt rather loose... Emlyn strode amiably by his side.
   'Diosa have mercy...,' he whispered, lifting a shaking hand to the doorknob.


The door opened to a snow-frosted Athena. 'About time! What took so long? I'm frozen as a popsicle!'
   '"Pop-sickle?"' Em inquired, taking Athena's long white fur-trimmed coat.
   'Umm...rather like carbonated frozen sugar with artificial color and flavor, or was at one time. Best done without, now. Thanks Em!' She shook out her long silver tresses. 'What's got into you now?' She studied Daryl, 'You look as though you'd seen a ghost!'
   Daryl smiled weakly. 'I...it's nothing. Come in and warm up, we should have a decent fire in the parlor by now.'


Athena cocked a wry eyebrow, but kept her peace for the nonce as she gratefully settled into the sofa beside the fireplace, and removed her mukluks.
  'It's a fine night, the storm is just now blowing in off the coast! Should be another foot or so of snow soon...'


Daryl stood silent by the mantle, rubbing long fingers over his chin. He poked the fire and added a log, as Emlyn entered bearing a tea tray.
   'Oh, hot tea...lovely!' Athena rubbed her hands. 'So! Will you be staying on a while here, then?'
  

'We...aren't really sure, as yet,' Emlyn began hesitantly. 'It was a rather impetuous trip, this.'
   '"Impetuous", eh?' Athena sipped her tea, gazing at Daryl. 'That describes you to a "T".'


'I'm not all that bad!' Daryl looked at her, as though truly pained.
  Emlyn smiled at him. 'No, Daryl, you really are not! So don't worry about it!'
  'Worry about, what? I'm missing something here!' Athena leaned back, arms behind her head.


Emlyn decided that perhaps it was time for a bit of disclosure.
  'I don't think that you miss much, Athena luv.'
  That good lady regarded Em. 'Do tell, then? There is something that has Daryl worried as a turkey on Thanksgiving -- you can't hide it, you know...' she added, shooting him an inquiring look.
   Daryl stared off into space, silent.


                                      

'Perhaps...it has something to do with...your rather, long friend, whom you met with just now, out in the birch forest,' Em decided to leap in head-first.
   Athena threw back her head and laughed heartily. 'My "long friend", indeed!' She smiled with narrow cat's eyes at Em.
  '...Is someone rather close to YOU, I think, Emlyn!'


'Oohhh...' A piteous soft groan escaped from Daryl, head now in his arms upon the mantle piece.
   Emlyn sighed, regarding Athena. 'Daryl is somewhat concerned about Axelis, my father, just now.'
   'I see-ee...' Athena's eyes flickered over the distraught Daryl, who now began pacing once more. He stopped when he reached the walnut bar.
   'Ah. Worried about your girlfriend's father, is it?' Athena threw at him over her shoulder, winking at Em.
   Emlyn merely thought, Oh, that's not but the half of it...


Daryl sighed and regarded his decanters. Armagnac, or cognac?
A Courvoisier sort of evening coming on, he decided, grasping the cut glass crystal.
   'Anyone care to join me?'

                               

Athena grinned at Emlyn, who was torn betwixt grinning back at her, and enjoying Daryl's misery, or showing genuine concern over poor Diego's plight.
   'Perhaps a wee dram, Daryl, merci...'
   'I'll pass,' Athena sat forward, pouring more tea. 'I may go for a midnight ride, later tonight.'
  

'Surely not with the horses!' Daryl handed Emlyn her snifter.
   Athena smiled languidly, sipping her tea. 'Oh, no. Horses would not be involved at all. Not tonight. It's not that sort of ride.'


Em took a sip of encouraging brandy. 'How do you know Axelis, Athena? I only recently met the man myself a year or so ago,' she admitted reluctantly.
  Athena was grinning no longer. 'Yes, he told me. I'm sorry you didn't know sooner...he wanted to tell you from the beginning, you know. It wasn't easy for him to keep his silence all this while.'


'You have known Axelis long?' Daryl turned to her accusingly.
  'I have known him oh, not all that long. I came upon him and his ship, one winter much like this...a few years ago,' Athena began, her eyes staring out into nothingness as she recalled a personal mindscape.
   '...It was like nothing I'd ever seen in real life, you know. Out there, by the frozen lake...I came through the evergreen wood and what I saw there, I simply had no words for.
  'That silver ship! Big as a house, as YOUR house, Daryl!' She glanced his way, 'Just sitting there, silent...no birds, no wind, nothing; as though the world had all the noise sucked out of it. But, I wasn't frightened. Intrigued. So sleek, and beautiful, and not at all part of the natural world.'


                                   

Emlyn and Daryl both listened, rapt, recalling their own sighting of Axelis' ship.
  'So!' Athena poured more tea, 'I walked up to the thing. And, I was NOT expecting anyone to be...home. But, there was.'
   She held her cup before her, looking down into her tea. 'A
sortof opening appeared and a ramp to the ground. A man was framed in the doorway. A tall, fair man. I thought I was seeing the return of King Arthur or suchlike...' Athena's lips ghosted a smile. 'Well, I'd hoped, you know.'
   Em smiled in return.


'Well, long story short, that was how we met. And, he has been stopping by, on occasion, ever since.' Athena ran a hand through her hair, settling against the sofa's back once more.
 'And, that's really all there is to it.'


Daryl was rubbing his forehead by the fire. He didn't look at Athena or at anyone as he commented:
  'You...have been meeting with an Ultradimensional 7 foot tall being, most likely over a hundred years old or twice that, who not only is Emlyn's and Anara's father, but commands a millennium-old Pleiadian war ship? And, you think it is of no consequence whatsoever? Hardly worth mentioning?'


Emlyn took objection, 'It IS her own personal business, Daryl...'
  'Yes, Daryl, luv...it is,' Athena added, '...And I had always valued our friendship, for many things, not the least of which, that we each do mind our own business and not poke noses into one anothers personal lives...yes?'


Daryl's fingers drummed upon the mantle.
  Athena sighed, soft and short. She stood. 'Perhaps I shall take a wee shot of firewater...'
  'Courvoisier is NOT firewater...Really!' Daryl did his best Dorian Grey-cum-Jack Benny.


A sideways smile slid upon Athena's features as she glanced at Em briefly, picked up the decanter and poured an amber stream for herself and freshened Em's glass.
  She offered it to Daryl then, who deigned to acknowledge her at last and nodded.
  Athena topped him off, and let her eyes range over him.


'I, for one, think it's fine that you know one another!' Emlyn
declared.
  Athena set the decanter upon the tea table and resumed her seat upon the sofa, tucking her long legs beneath her as she turned to Em.
  'I'm glad. He's a fine man, your father. He would have spent more time with you, if he but could.'
 

'There has been, there have been...some developments, since we last shared a cup between us,' Daryl had decided to return to the living, and address the company suddenly.

   What could this all be about, Em wondered, anxious now. We'd just agreed not to delve too deeply into one anothers lives...Athena need not know...
   Em twisted the emerald ring upon her left hand. She'd been in such a hurry, leaving the Bay Area for Massachusetts...she had forgotten to take it off. Should she, in fact? Where was Daryl heading now? Where were they both heading? They'd hardly had a chance to speak together since the Solstice...


'Yess...' Daryl sauntered over to his wingchair, taking a seat by the fire, brandy at the ready...this discussion would require some lubrication.
  'Upon the Solstice, Emlyn and I found ourselves in Sonora once more. Only we were our gypsy selves; she, Josephina, at 17, and I, Diego, at 20.'
   Athena gave him all her attention, but said nothing.


Daryl continued, 'Naturally, chaos ensued...kidnappings, a volcano blew, and I was staked upon a pyramid as a sacrifice to the elder gods. Thanks to Em, or Josephina and friends, I was rescued, as you see.
   'However, upon our return, we found ourselves embroiled in something perhaps even stranger...' He flicked a glance Emlyn's direction, 'We 'accidentally' ran into a timewalking Condomble practitioner, who had dealings not only with my antiques contact in the City, but also with friends of Emlyn...and, I believe now, that Axelis may not be Em's only paterfamilias still hovering about.'


'WHAT?!' Em sat up. 'What exactly are you suggesting, Daryl?'
Her innards felt frozen suddenly.
  Daryl leaned forward, 'I'm sorry, Em, but, it seems to point to that. I believe that your father, the mundane one...is still lost in a timewarp somehow. I have suspected this as far back as when I appeared to you in the flames at Crowley Place. You had seen a vision of your father in the flames then as well, you recall?'


Emlyn had. It had given her quite a fright at the time. She frowned, and twisted the ring on her finger.
  'What should we do? What CAN we do, anything?'
  Daryl sighed and took a deep pull from his glass. 'I...haven't been able to think of anything. Or I'd have tried to free him long ago.'


'I don't suppose, Jack...' Em didn't wish to think of Jack. Or her father...the other one.
  Daryl stared at the fire. 'Jack never thought it a good idea to even try, Em. While it was through your father's notes, as well as Dr. Stein's, that we were able to develop modern Time Travel, many lasting mistakes were engendered when they had first loosened such rough magic. Some with such long-lasting pernicious malignancy...' He ran both hands through his hair in frustration.
  'Well, we all agreed to abide with the decision not to, ah,
attempt a rescue.'


'You agreed...?' Em frowned.
  'Yes. Jack, Aleister and I...and others as well.' Daryl hoped she would not inquire further.
  'Well...' Em sighed, at last, 'I have to concur. I am certainly not anxious to see him again. Why are you thinking of this now, then?'
  'Just a hunch,' Daryl demurred. 'Perhaps it was having Axelis here now, after all this time...' He set his empty glass before him. 'I, don't know...'


'--You had better trust your hunches,' came a voice from the hallway. A familiar voice. One not heard in seeming ages...


All stood as they heard him, and, to their unbelieving eyes,
appearing out of the hallway's gloom into the flickering firelight of the parlor, suddenly loomed the tall and commanding figure of their former benefactor...
   '-- Mr. Yeats!' Emlyn exclaimed with gleeful relief.


'As you see...' Yeats, big as life and twice as improbable, deigned to crack a soft smile as he removed his long coat.
   'Care to share your hearthside with an old friend?'


                               

                          . . . .
WATCH AND LISTEN!
"TROIKA" Sergei Prokofiev

Chapter 12 - The Great White Cold

Chapter 12 - The Great White Cold

                                   . . . .


..::In Kabbalah, Renaissance magic, and alchemy, the language of the birds was considered a secret and perfect language and the key to perfect knowledge, sometimes also called the langue verte, or green language.

In medieval France, the language of the birds (la langue des oiseaux) was a secret language of the Troubadours, connected with the Tarot, allegedly based on puns and symbolism drawn from homophony, e. g. an inn called au lion d'or "the Golden Lion" is allegedly "code" for au lit on dort "in the bed one sleeps"

In Norse mythology, the power to understand the language of the birds was a sign of great wisdom. The god Odin had two ravens, called Hugin and Munin, who flew around the world and told Odin what happened among mortal men.

The legendary king of Sweden Dag the Wise was so wise that he could understand what birds said. He had a tame house sparrow which flew around and brought back news to him. Once, a farmer in Reidgotaland killed Dag's sparrow, which brought on a terrible retribution from the Swedes.


In Greece, Tiresias was also said to have been given the ability to understand the language of the birds by Athena::..

                         . . . .


"Women are peerless dreamers," Esperanza assured me.
"Women are extremely practical. In order to sustain a dream, one must be practical, because the dream must pertain to practical aspects of oneself. 
   "My teacher's favorite dream was to dream of herself as a hawk. Another was to dream of herself as an owl. So depending on the time of the day, she could dream about being either one, and since she was dreaming while she was awake, she was really and absolutely a hawk or an owl."

Florinda Donner
Being-In-Dreaming

                      . . . .

"...I just want a little bungalow, where I can call home...and tell my wife I won't be there for dinner."

Groucho, as Capt. Spaulding
Marx Bros
Animal Crackers



                              

                               . . . .

"Snow!"
-- Emlyn exclaimed.
   Daryl had decided to deposit them outside on that particular offchance which now blanketed the expanse before them.
   Em was delighted; she smiled, shut her eyes, and held her face up to the softly alighting crystalline flakes...this, this was what she had longed for!
   Daryl spoke not, but quietly turned round and, bending over, briskly fashioned sommat with his hands, then stepped back...
  

-- Twack! 'Pon Emlyn's back splat the speeding snow sphere!
  'The devil -- !!' Em cried, as she scooped up her own frozen artillery, and the formerly anxious couple were magically transformed into laughing, yelling children again as they chased each other about the grounds, ducking behind bushes and letting fly with their melting missiles...a folie au deux.


 Em was hiding around her trees, snowball in hand, looking for Daryl; who meanwhile, had crept up silently behind...
   '-- Gotcha!' He cried, as he grabbed her about the waist and swung her about, the two screeching and laughing as though they were Diego and Josephina again.
    (-- If their young selves had frolic'd in snow and not sand, that is.)

They stood hugging one another, catching their breath, when...
  '-- Listen!' Daryl held up a finger...
  'Ahh!' Em gasped, '-- Bells! Sleigh bells!'
  Daryl looked down and grinned at her. 'Athena!'

Hand in hand, they ran to view the narrow gravel lane that served as a road to the estate, now snow-blanketed, and soon beheld in the distance such a scene as would only emerge from a Norse fairy tale...
  
Accompanying the light silvery belling, in the distance appeared a pale blue dappled and piebald horse drawing a blueish-silver sleigh piled all about with white sheepskins.


   Holding the lines was an exact visage of the Snow Queen -- leaning forward, an eager, softly smiling pale woman sat driving, wrapped in a coat of white and trimmed with ribbands of Norse/Celtic embroideries about the front and and wrists. A fluffy milk-white collar encircled her neck and framed her white-gloved hands.


    Her long silver hair flew streaming behind her in the wild wind like a trailing cloud sparkling with snowflakes; she held her face to the wind, and laughed for the sheer joy of it...
   ...A lone kestrel flew behind her, calling.


                              

Emlyn and Daryl were enraptured by the sight.
  'Oh! Isn't she glorious?!' Glancing up, Em noted Daryl was smiling now, his face relaxed for the first time that day.
  '-- Let us go to her, Diego! May we?' She put her arm through his.
  Daryl regarded her from on high, his smile quirked slightly to the left. 'I think that a fine idea, Josephina.'

                                 . . . .


By the time the two reached the Gatehouse, they found horse and sled put away in the stables.
   'It IS a real horse!' Emlyn marveled, as her awestruck eyes roamed over the odd dappling of actual pale stars upon the horse's blueish-slate coat.


'Yes,' answered Daryl as he ran a hand over the horse's back, patting his neck. 'Although with a name like 'Hermes', he may have been lent a magical bent...'
      Daryl stood, gazing about the old stone stables, tack room and yard. 'They're a fairly new breed; a Chocolate Silver Dapple Pinto.'

                        
                                 

'Chocolate Silver! He seems unreal...a fairy horse.' Em was delighted to see such a myth come to life. A unicorn couldn't have thrilled her more.


   Such a brave new world, indeed! Crop circles, horses with star-coats! And no one appreciated these awesome everyday miracles, according to Daryl and Athena; most folk of their day were either too poor and struggling to survive, or so rich they were jaded to the gills. By all accounts, everyone lived a virtual life untouched by anything natural. Indeed, nature had long since vanished from the World of Man.


'Shall we knock up Athena?' Em inquired.
    'Eh?' Daryl looked nonplussed momentarily. 'Ah, yes, let's...'  They shuffled off through the snow to the Gatehouse proper.

                       . . . .

Em's light tapping was soon answered by a smiling Athena.
  'I had a feeling you were coming! Entre', do!'
  Em and Daryl kicked as much snow from their boots as they could against the door step and shook their coats free of flakes, then sat and removed boots in the entryway.
  ...Homecoming.


'I'm heating cocoa...' Athena called over her shoulder as she headed for the kitchen.
   'Excellent, luv!' Daryl answered. 'When did the snow begin?' He ran hands through his hair and sauntered in to the parlor.


'Oh, sometime around mid-November, actually! This is nothing new around here!' Athena brought a tray into the room and set it upon the large sea chest that served as table before the fireplace. 'Do have a cuppa and warm up. You saw us on the road, I suppose?'   


Seating herself on the sofa, she took up her mugful and curled her legs beneath her, ala Emlyn.
  Em soon followed her example and helped herself to a steaming cup of chocolate. Daryl sat in the armchair across from the ladies and sipped, feet propped upon the hearth.
  'Mmm...marshmallows...' He smiled a Diego-like mischievous grin.


'This feels so good...your cosy place, the warm fire...snow!' Emlyn enthused. 'Thank you for the hospitality...did you really think we were coming?'
  'I did.' Athena leaned back, a small smile at the corners of her lips and eyes. 'I dreamed it. Last evening.'
  'You knew before we did, then!' Daryl replied. 'Very spur of the moment, this trip.'


The three friends sat companionably for a while, enjoying chocolate in silence and defrosting; no sounds but the crackling of logs on the fire and the occasional 'whump!' of snow falling from branches about the cottage.

   Emlyn wondered how much Athena knew. A canny lady, she; Em wouldn't be surprised to find she knew all. Actually, however, Em simply wished to soak up life in the moment; the Here and Now, as she and Diego had sworn to do...

Daryl stretched his legs out before him, crossing ankles and sighed.
  'We were feeling rather bereft of real weather in the west...I was hoping that Old Man Winter may have made an appearance here by now.'

Athena returned from the kitchen with a tin of biscuits.  'Oh, yes...well, you popped in and out again not so long ago, you know.'
 

Daryl accepted a rich Scottish shortcake. 'Just to check on you, luv. Couldn't stay long, and didn't even notice the weather outdoors then. T'was late at night, last time I recall...'


  'It was. Luckily I am a night owl...' Athena's gaze went to the many representations of owls about the mantle. Owls carved in wood, an owl clock face, owl statues...one, very life-like, turned its head suddenly and looked at Emlyn with wide orange eyes.


'The...that's...' Em stammered, '...a real owl!'
   'Minerva, yes...' Athena smiled, a genuine fondness showing for her feathered companion. 'I found her with a wounded wing a month or so ago. She visits now, occasionally. Sleeps here days, and leaves me to hunt at night. I've rigged a door for her up an unused chimney; she knows how to open it, comes and goes as she pleases.'

                           

'She is recovered?' asked Daryl, craning his neck behind him, afraid to stand and upset Minerva.
  'She is. And mice are no longer a problem.'


Minerva shook her feathers and closed her jack-o-lantern eyes once more, leaving the visitors to their own business.
  'She seems most at-ease for a wild creature,' noted Daryl. 'What of your hawk now?'


'Falcon, actually. American kestrel. Grace, I call her. Amazing how they can hover, you know, even inside a barn, say. They were once referred to as 'Windhovers'. She, too, comes and goes as she pleases, but I've made a place for her in the stables, when she wishes to visit.' Athena gazed out the frosty windows, sleepy-eyed and mellow from her outing in the great white Winter world.

                             

She regarded them after a pause. 'So you are come here seeking Winter.'
   'We are, we do,' Emlyn replied. 'It is still so dry back west...'
   '...While we're in a state of stormy siege here, always, I know.' Athena acknowledged. 'But, after my brief foray into that other world, I am more than content here.' Her eyes went to Daryl's, and he read  truth therein.


'Also,' Daryl began, 'I needed to secret some...antiques, back at the House,' Daryl frowned, remembering. 'They must remain there, I now know.' He shifted uneasily. 'It's been quite the adventure twixt the Solstice and now...'


'But, the Solstice was only, what, yesterday?' Athena puzzled.
  'For most, yes.' Emlyn left it at that.
  'For us, however,' Daryl continued, 'it has been...
rather a rough go.' His eyes took on a haunted look, and Em knew he was recalling his near-death experience staked upon a pyramid as sacrifice to the death cult.


'We're come here, to put all that behind us, and for a fresh outlook on things,' Em briskly asserted.
   Athena took the hint and did not inquire into their
alleged 'adventures', but she did wonder...

'Well, you came to the right place,' she smiled.
  'Here, nature holds sway. All this,' her hand made a graceful arc, 'is ruled by wind and snow, the thunder and rains, the owl and the falcon. I fancied I even heard a wolf howl the other evening.' Athena paused.   '...And, at times, even stranger things do surprise. The Northern Lights, upon occasion. The skies round about are full of silent mysteries...'


'Ah,' Daryl sat back, and, clasping his hands across his belly, he intoned: '"There are strange things done neath the midnight sun, by the men who toil for gold. The Northern Lights have seen queer sights...,"' he paused, frowning; '...eh, how does it go now?'


Thinking of queer sights, Emlyn couldn't resist;
'Athena, I hope you don't mind, but, we did stop in the stables to look at your horse and sled! I have never beheld such a gorgeous creature! He seems unreal!'


'I assume you mean Hermes? My dappled chocolate star-horse?' Athena smiled wide, gazing into the fire.
  'Yes, he is a beauty. Did you meet Freya? She's my Norwegian Fjord Horse...also quite lovely; another fairy-tale beastie.'

                                  

                               


'Indeed?' Daryl sat up. 'We missed Freya.' His eyes went to Em. 'But we'd love to become acquainted sometime. Soon, perhaps?' Em nodded with anticipation.

  'But just now...' he finished his cocoa and took a ginger snap, putting it in his pocket as he rose.
  'I'm afraid duty calls.' Again his glance went to Em, who regarded him with questioning eyes. 'There are some items I am having transferred to the big House. Manuel is probably there by now...'
 

Daryl went behind Emlyn and put his hands upon her shoulders, bending to her...
  'Just to settle us in, luv. Warm up the place sommat. You may join me, or stay here with Athena awhile longer?' His gaze searched that lady's own, who nodded smiling.  

Athena took Em's hand. 'Do stay on a bit. It has been long since we've had a chance to chat, no?'

Em touched Daryl with her free hand. 'Oh, I'd love to stay, Diego! Just for a bit, to warm up. I don't mind walking back alone...'
   Athena spoke up, 'Nonsense, I shall come with you. The paths look much changed in the snow.' She regarded Daryl, 'Off you go then! We shall meet anon!'


Daryl kissed Em on the cheek, and bussed Athena as well before he donned his winter gear and made his exit with an 'Abientot, cheries!' He stamped his feet and began singing as he shut the door...something about 'The Great White Cold Walks Abroad...'



Athena gazed after him for a bit, then sighed and stretched. 'Now, we shall have a good talk. I shall make us some coffee, yes?' She floated off the sofa and came behind Em, as Daryl had. 'I have missed you, little sister.'
   Em patted the hand upon her shoulder. 'And I, you, Athena.'

                      . . . .


As Athena puttered about the kitchen, Emlyn went to the fire and stirred it up, added a fresh log. She studied Minerva upon her perch, surrounded by fresh straw studded with cedar leaves. The owl had gone back into dormant statue mode, her eyes closed. Upon the mantle piece she had found the warmest spot in the house.


'Is the gatehouse heated by wood fire only, Athena?'
Em inquired as she moved about the welcoming room of amber-hued cut log and grey stone.

                           

   'Aye, so it is!' The older woman called over her shoulder. 'The forest is generous with windfalls, and it's truly all we need. This woodstove cooks and bakes better than anything, really. Upstairs, in the loft, the heat rises so I hardly need a thing...the hot water
heater is attached to the woodstove, see?'
 

Athena soon re-entered the parlor with a tray; upon it a French press coffee server and two cups, some nuts and sliced apples.
   'I do have a generator for backup, however. Rarely needed. We are wired for electric, but we are off the grid here.'
   '"The Grid"?' Em inquired.


'Umm. The electric or gas or whatever companies who dominated the energy corporations. Daryl has his own way of generating energy here. A good thing, since the CME decimated the grid long ago.'
   Athena's explanation made little sense to Em, but she did catch an inkling of what all that entailed, in the broadest sense. She was cognizant of electric magnetic storms which had disrupted communications in her time.


'I see...' Memories of Jack came to Em then. 'Back in California, Jack succeeded somewhat in getting more local folks to use vegetable oil in their cooking instead of lard, and then to save the used oil for a sort of bio-diesel fuel to run machines.' She accepted a cup of the dark fragrant coffee from Athena.


   'It smells divine...' Em sipped, sighed, then continued: 'Jack maintained that it was my time, in the late 1800's, that the Industrial Revolution began to create the great schism between humans and nature. Indeed, that humans began then to lose their humanity then, and to become mere cogs in the machine...'


'Indeed,' Athena was quick to agree. 'It was called 'progress' but it was merely subterfuge; cloaking incipient invasion, and eventual devastation of humanity.' Her eyebrows rose as she made this pronouncement, studying Em's face.


'I can see this now...' Emlyn did, or was beginning to, after all she'd learned from her timewalking friends and, Others.
  'Not to mention, the child laborers in factories, the relentless long hours forced upon all...the miners to feed the ironworks, held in thrall by corporate trusts to a life of danger and disease, simply to survive...oh, progress, indeed...enriching the pockets of the few at the expense of the many...'


Em had heated up to the subject, and fondly recalled her time with Lev Kopalski and her adolescent self then in league with his ideals.  As well as the unionizing and other socialist activism, they had raided the rich haciendas for food and silver, to distribute to the poor.
   She smiled, and sighed, to think on their youthful shenanigans...they had envisioned themselves as a modern Robin Hood and Maid Marian back then.

                     

She wondered then about Lev, and what had become of him? She recalled that Alice had mentioned he and Orez had become rather close! Dear Lev, he hadn't changed.
All to the good, that...
  She wished she had had time to speak with Alejandro/Raimundo privately; before leaving the Inn of Sopa and Fog.


'Tuppence for your thoughts?' Athena inquired, smiling.



Emlyn regarded her friend, an older sister so she seemed, now; they had been through so much. But Athena and Daryl had seemed rather...intimate also. She wondered just what their relationship was, in fact. She did not wish for anyone to come between anyone else! All rather convoluted, her relationships...
  And...best not to even think of Jack, just yet.


'Oh, just memories...' Em poured more coffee, refreshing Athena's cup and her own. 'This, here and now, is the first chance I have had to sit and think!'
   Em sighed, falling back upon the sofa.
  'I'm rather weary of all this timewalking and tearing about!'

'I see...I think,' Athena nodded once. 'Although the Solstice was, what, a day ago? I'm beginning to intuit that for you and Daryl, it has been rather longer?'

Emlyn bit her lip. 'The bloody Solstice again! What is it with the sabbats anyway? "The thinning of veils betwixt the worlds", I know...'


'Exactly, cher.' Athena sounded like Daryl now. 'So it is. At these times, there are...forces, and energies that either you can act upon, or which will act upon you. Especially upon folk like us, who operate somewhat out of the agreed-upon Timeline.' Athena then became pensive, and frowned into the fire. 'It's all a matter of energy and perception.'


'Athena...' Em decided to voice something that had been upon her mind since meeting the enigmatic Athena.
  '...I, hope you don't mind my asking but, are you ever lonely out here, by yourself so much?'


That lovely lady with her silken mantle of silver locks blinked at the flames before her, then turned smiling to Emlyn.
  'But I am not alone, cherie...'

Em decided to leave it at that...

                        . . . .

Later, as the sun began to lower over the creamy landscape shining with a peach and golden glow beneath the slate colored clouds gathered above; as promised, Athena accompanied Emlyn over the frozen trails back to big House.

It was quiet all around them, except for the crunch of their boots in the snow. Emlyn breathed in the crisp, clear almost painful air, smelling like ice, and longed for wee Dylan's company then; a frolicking pup would have loved this winter playground.

                              

'Do you see that silverish, somewhat darker spot over between the big oak trees there, beyond where the wood ends?' Athena was pointing to a place where the snow seemed to stop, and a darker patch began; it traveled along the edge of the lighter snow drifts, and Emlyn wondered if this was the lake that Daryl had spoken of.

'That's the lake!' Athena confirmed. 'Frozen most of the winter months, it is wonderfully safe. Do you skate?'
  Emlyn laughed. 'I? A California girl? Oh, alas, no.'


Athena smiled back. 'You mean, 'not yet!'' She nodded.
'It's easy. All you need is a good stiff pair of skates.' Athena picked up the pace and Em had a time keeping up, trying to follow in her footsteps wasn't easy; Athena's Amazonian stride was rather longer than her own.


Eventually, however, they weaved their way through a grove of silent silver birch trees, crowned with tufts of white upon bare branches. Athena put an arm out, halting Em mid-step. She put a finger to her lips, and pointed --
  There, looking like something from a picture book to Em's western gaze, sat a vision come to life: a scarlet Cardinal sitting upon a tree branch, unconcerned with either snow or human.
   Em was duly enthralled.
   Athena turned and smiled and continued on their way; the bird did the same in the opposite direction.


                             

   'We're there,' she announced, and so it was; back at the great House, Em could find but little trace of the sport she and Daryl had stirred up in the snow upon their arrival but hours ago.


   'Red sky at night...' Athena studied the massing dark clouds now lowering upon the last rays of the sunset. 'There will be a snowstorm tonight!' She grinned in anticipation.


Emlyn remembered Athena's fondness for storms. 'Athena Stormcrow!' She teased her, thinking in Tolkien terms.
  The elder woman laughed aloud. 'Right you are, little elf!' And putting an arm about Em, they trudged up the row of snowy steps to the front portico.


  'Do stay with us here tonight, Athena? We would so welcome more of your company. I know Daryl would...it has been a long time, for us, you see.' Em felt renewed and refreshed by Athena's gentle serene presence; she welcomed her here as a buffer against Daryl's mercurial moods.


'We'll see...' Athena replied, noncommittally. She released Emlyn then and turned about, scanning the grounds they had traveled.
   Em glanced the way her older sister was looking and bethought she detected a flash of silver in the sky.

'Go on in, won't you, Em? I will follow in a moment, yes?' Athena nodded, and began to descend the steps, heading back toward the birch grove.

'Don't be long!' Em called. Athena held up an arm and waved, but did not turn around as she glided back the way they had come.

Emlyn gained the big front doors and was about to enter, when something made her turn again, to see if she could still find Athena, curious as to what had given her friend pause...

To her surprise, she caught that same flash of silver now beyond the birch grove, amongst the tops of the evergreen forest they had trekked though en route.
   Straining to see, she could barely discern in the distance, a moving figure that was surely Athena...and, incredibly, coming to meet her, Someone Else.


Someone Else, indeed, no mistake there; for whoever it was coming alongside her friend, was a giant of a figure...at least 7 feet tall...
   Emlyn caught a glint of gold in the long locks of the giant who had dared the silent frozen realm of Daryl's secret fortress.
   Viking invaders? Odin himself, perhaps?


Something about that figure seemed oddly familiar to Emlyn, in the strictest sense. Athena's silver hair,  beside the tall man's long golden locks, gleamed in the last flash of setting sun.
  A name came to her then, to tag this chimera --    Axelis.
  Her father.
  Or, at least, one of them...

                              

                       . . . .


WATCH AND LISTEN!
Great White Cold
Hanover Winter Song - Dartmouth Aires

Words by Richard Hovey (1864-1900), 1898

Music by Frederic Field Bullard (1864-1904), 1898
MP3 (copyright 1994-1995 Dartmouth College)

Both were 1885 graduates of Dartmouth College, Hanover, New Hampshire

Ho, a song by the fire;
Pass the pipes, pass the bowl.
Ho, a song by the fire
With a skoal, with a skoal.
Ho, a song by the fire;
Pass the pipes with a skoal,
For the wolf-wind is wailing at the doorways,
And the snow drifts deep along the road,
And the ice gnomes are marching from their Norways,
And the great white cold walks abroad.


But, here by the fire, we defy frost and storm;
Ha, ha we are warm, and we have our heart's desire.
For here, we're good fellows, and the beechwood and the bellows;
And the cup is at the lip in the pledge of fellowship.
Oh, here by the fire, we defy frost and storm;
Ha, ha, we are warm, and we have our heart's desire.
For here we're good fellows, and the beechwood and the bellows.
And the cup is at the lip in the pledge of fellowship,
Of fellowship


Pile the logs on the fire;
Fill the pipes, pass the bowl.
Pile the logs on the fire
With a skoal, with a skoal.
Pile the logs on the fire;
Fill the pipes with a skoal,
For the fire goblins flicker on the ceiling,
And the wine witch glitters in the glass,
And the smoke wraiths are drifting, curling, reeling,
And the sleigh bells jingle as they pass.


But, here by the fire, we defy frost and storm;
Ha, ha we are warm, and we have our heart's desire.
For here, we're good fellows, and the beechwood and the bellows;
And the cup is at the lip in the pledge of fellowship.
Oh, here by the fire, we defy frost and storm;
Ha, ha, we are warm, and we have our heart's desire.
For here we're good fellows, and the beechwood and the bellows.
And the cup is at the lip in the pledge of fellowship,
Of fellowship


Oh, a God is the fire;
Pull the pipes, drain the bowl.
Oh, a God is the fire
With a skoal, with a skoal.
Oh, a God is the fire;
Pull the pipes with a skoal,
For the room has a spirit in the embers,
Tis a God and our fathers knew his name,
And they worship'd him in long-forgot Decembers,
And their hearts leap'd high with the flame.