Sunday 19 February 2017

Through the Mist - The Resurgence of the Old Ways and my Journey Thus Far



On my journey on the winding path of life, I have noticed many people referring to paganism and shamanism as branches of "New Age" spirituality. What amuses me about this is that many of the practices which fall under the said category have been common for many thousands of years, some forgotten for centuries but are now being rediscovered. Our civilisation is changing, and this is because we as a species are changing; we in the western world have grown comfortable, complacent, lazy, and ultimately weak. But with what some refer to as the "ascension upgrade" or "great awakening", has emerged an ever growing draw towards our past, the traditions which have formed the basis for our society, our culture, our politics, the ways of our ancestors, and a reverence for nature. Through the mist of time, our forebears have been calling to us, urging us to reach out and connect with them and their way of life, a way of life which is as important and valid now as it was then.

Among modern academics there seems to be a general consensus that we are better off now than we were a thousand years ago, and to some extent this is true; we have access to information which would never have been available to us, and what's more we can access it with the touch of a button; we can archive our entire known history in something so small it can be lost in an ear-canal; we can communicate to anyone in the world instantly, and we have the means to keep ourselves clean, warm, dry and fed through the harshest of winters with relative ease. But this is where the benefits of our privileged society run out. the down side of this advancement is that we are dependent upon it. We need electricity to light and warm our homes at night, to generate heat and cook our food for us; we depend upon vast factories to prepare and ship our food to us so that it is readily available for us to eat with little to no effort; we are so connected to one another that we invest our history and culture and currency into electronic abstractions which have no physical value. What if all of this were to be taken away? This frightening and very possible future is explored in J. J. Abrams' series Revolution, in which nano technology destroys every electrical system on the planet, plunging humanity back into the dark age. How many people would know how to make fire from nothing but leaves and twigs? How many would know how to grow their own food, or to hunt or fish to feed themselves and their families, or better yet, how to prepare the food once it has been killed? Who would know which tools to use for such things or how to get them, or make them if such things were not already available? Nano tech may not wipe out the world, but war is certain to reduce any civilised nation to a land of scattered, divided, leaderless, desperate and primal individuals and tribes. The situation in the middle east is a prime example of what happens when our comfortable bubble of civilisation is suddenly burst. Our reliance is not confined simply to technology but also to the societal structure itself, the hierarchy of governors, military, law enforcement, merchants and workers has softened us to the point where 80% of the population would flounder and drown when dropped into the deep end of the survival pool. We rely upon merchants to provide our home wares, on the police to protect us from crime and deliver justice, on the military to defend our borders and on our governments to decide our fate; this is what must change, and bit by bit, slowly but surely, this IS changing.

I was raised from an early age to know where my food comes from. I was taken over the fields, nets and rifles at the ready, and shown what it is to catch and kill in order to feed oneself. I was taught to fish at the age of 7 and I was shown how to de-scale, gut and fillet the fish, or how to skin and stew the rabbit. I have never agreed with hunting for sport, but the importance of the hunt in all of its primal brutality has been a part of me ever since that time. I then moved away from that life and lived for many years in a privileged and comfortable state of blissful ignorance, eventually forgetting those lessons I was taught as a child. I, like so many others, questioned the value of such lessons in a world where food is only a 5 minute journey to the supermarket away, and where it is not my place to fight against attackers on the street or at home but to call the police to apprehend them. Then the path was revealed to me, and I engaged in research into the old magicks, the old legends, the old ways of life, and through this I became connected to my ancestors, and through them, connected to the Gods. I am now rediscovering the knowledge that was entrusted to me, to be nurtured and passed on to my children and to my children's children, so that they will know what to do when this age of the earth draws to an end.

These words were uttered to me in a vision just days ago; "First and foremost, home and hearth". This is the first and most important lesson I will convey. Above all other things, strive to establish a suitable home for yourself and your family, look after it, keep it tidy and comfortable, warm and free from damp. Make it a place to be proud of, in which to welcome guests, be they friends of old or new acquaintances. Your family, be they blood relatives or soul family, friends and kin, should be the primary driving force in anyone's life. Live for those you love, fight for them, and do not be afraid to die for them if destiny calls for it. They make us who we are, they sustain us and encourage us to be the best versions of ourselves. This should urge us to adopt somewhat of a tribal mentality towards all things in life; take what you can and share it evenly among your kin. Do not fear your prosperity being at someone else's detriment, for they would not afford you the same consideration, but never take what you and yours do not need if it will result in another starving.

Forming close bonds with people is important in order to make one's way in the world, but what our ancestors teach us is that forming closer bonds with animals and plants is even more important. People can deceive one another, they can be selfish and cruel, even to their own kin, but trees will offer comfort, healing, advice and grounding to those who are willing to sit and listen long enough to understand their language. Animals, though driven by their primal nature and therefore wild and sometimes dangerous, respond to the correct communicative conventions in the same way that people do. If you know how to approach an aggressive dog or a nervous horse, then you will find that they can be as amiable and communicative as any human. The plants and animals are our brethren and our guides, even down to the tiniest of insects and for this reason, harming a living being should not be undertaken unless it is for food or the resources to gain food or shelter, and in these circumstances, thanks and praise should be given for their sacrifice to sustain you. Kill if your need is great enough, but never do so with a light heart; feel the suffering of others so that you may know what it is to die in preparation for when you do. To feel the suffering of the world is to know the world and through it, to know the Gods. Many would argue against killing, even for food, and state that we can get all of the same nutrition found in meat from various vegetables and fruits; however, what people fail to consider is that in a situation where one is lost in the mountains or stranded in a forest, such foods will not be available, and so one will be forced to hunt to survive. Therefore it is my belief that despite living in a society which removes the need for such a skill, one should cultivate it nonetheless to be prepared for any eventuality of misfortune.

Faith is paramount for any individual. It doesn't matter what you put your faith in, just as long as you have something to hold on to in your darkest hours, when you feel lost, alone, hopeless and afraid. To have faith in nothing is to throw oneself out of a plane without a parachute; one can enjoy the free-fall until the ground comes rushing up to meet you, then in the last moments of panic one reaches for the pull chord only to find they are grasping at the open air. Even the most steadfast of atheists will resort to prayer when faced with despair, be it to a god or simply calling out to a loved one who is far away. That person, in their hour of need, in the deepest reaches of their soul, has faith that their call will be heard, even though everything they have come to understand about the world would dictate otherwise. This is what our ancestors are trying to achieve; to demonstrate to us that although we cannot see them or feel their touch of reassurance, they are still with us, and that all we have to do is have faith that they are there for us. Only then can we hear their words of wisdom in our minds, feel their warmth spread through our bodies, catch their scent on the air to remind us of where we come from. If we have faith that there is more to the world than what we can see and measure, then we suddenly discover the ability to move through the world devoid of fear, knowing that the pull chord is there for us if we reach for it, and with this comes the ability to change our own lives as we see fit, to reshape our destiny. Trust in your ancestors to guide you and protect you from harm, trust in the Gods to receive you when you die, and trust in your own abilities to delay that eventuality for as long as the Gods will allow.

With regards to treating guests and enemies, the old ways are finding their place in modern society again. For a long time, western culture has pushed the mindset of "welcoming" guests into the home in such a way as to show off one's decor or shower the guest with so much hospitality as to make them uncomfortable, sparking a contest to see who is the more generous host. The old ways are slightly different, for when inviting people to your home, it would be for the purpose of their company, spending time with them and celebrating their presence in you life. For this reason, it is wrong to make the visit about oneself; our ancestors would not seek to invite guests simply to inadvertently belittle them by showing off how much bigger their house is. Make the guests comfortable, ensure that there is adequate space for them to lounge, and attend to their needs to keep them sated. A large spread of food is not necessary, but rather be sure to give them just enough food and drink as to feel satisfied, making sure that you each have an equal portion. An old Norse phrase states "talking and silence in equal measure", indicating firstly that neither the guest or the host should dominate the conversation but rather both should have an equal share of speaking and listening, and secondly that there should be a balance between conversation and other pass times, e.g. eating, enjoying music, playing games etc. When strangers call, we have a tendency to turn them away and deny them entry, but the ancient Norse and Gaels would invite the stranger to sup with them. It is always wise to regard strangers with suspicion, but it is always beneficial to at least invite them in for a cup of tea/coffee, for one can find friends and allies in the most unexpected ways, and as the Havamal states, one can never know when a stranger is a God in disguise to test us. Occasionally, one might find themselves in the company of a friend's friend whom they do not know personally, and if this stranger is not to one's liking, it is always best to avoid open disagreement with the person for the sake of the mutual friend; but if the third party causes trouble, swift action must be taken to assert one's position of dominance in the situation, for this demonstrates to the mutual friend that such company is unwisely kept. On the matter of enemies or assailants, our society discourages direct action to stop criminals for our own safety, which leaves a majority of people vulnerable to the wickedness of others. Many ancient cultures understood and taught that those who did not wield swords could still die upon them, and therefore instructed all members of their societies in the art of combat for the defense of the home. So many who are called back to the old ways are drawn to martial arts, marksmanship, swordsmanship and archery in the knowledge that these skills will aid them in defending themselves and others from attack in a world which is still as dangerous as it has always been. All that is needed is for the western judicial systems to revert back to recognising the individual's sovereign right to use whatever force they deem necessary in pursuit of ensuring their own safety and the safety of others.

Part of returning to the old ways is spending more time outdoors to get in touch with nature. This is possible even in the middle of a city; focus on those elements which are natural and ignore everything artificial, the wind, the clouds, the play of sunlight and shadows, wild birds, the sound of flowing water from a stream or fountain, trees and even ordinary grass on a verge or lawn can be gateways for the consciousness to pass through and connect to the old Gods. One of my favourite quotes is from the TV show Vikings, in which Athelstan says "in the gentle fall of rain from heaven I hear my God, but in the thunder I still hear Thor." Nature is all around us, and to connect to it we must open our eyes and see it in its full glory. Connecting to nature can help to bring us into balance within ourselves, to establish equilibrium between our higher and lower natures, our masculine and feminine archetypes. When venturing beyond one's front door, if it is short journey then go on foot as our ancestors did. Afford yourself a little extra time to walk rather than take the bus, for this gets you out under the open sky for longer while benefiting your health. Furthermore, on free days, rather than sitting at home and watching television or playing video games, go for a walk, even in the rain; venture out into nature and be with your own thoughts. Talk to yourself and to the trees, sing, observe those aspects of nature that are prevalent and try to imagine how the land would have looked long ago before it was built upon. Listen to birdsong, and if you are able to, whistle back to them; birds will respond when you mimic their calls. These are sure ways to help connect to nature. If you keep pets, spend a little time with them every day and talk to them as you would a human. Look into their eyes as you talk and focus on the meaning of your words, imagining that the meaning is a substance like water which flows back and forth between you. The more you consciously communicate with your pets, the more you start to develop a psychic link with them.

In our modern age, everything is increasing in velocity, so much so that we have little or no time to stop, breathe, think, feel or imagine. Undertaking a ritual practice  can help us in many ways, even if said practice is nothing more than meditating or praying for your first 10 minutes of the day. Lighting a candle is in and of itself a magickal act, for in lighting the candle, one imbues it with their intentions and hopes for the coming day, and the light of the flame is always a warming sight to ward off the low mood which heralds a bad day to come. If you are drawn to a spiritual tradition, then thanking the God or Gods of that tradition for being blessed with another day to learn and grow. If you are not drawn to a set tradition or do not know which one to go for, you could mix traditions as I have, or simply give thanks to your ancestors for living and creating the lives that went on to create you. Any of these can help to connect us to the old ways when we commune with the ancestors and the old Gods. They will guide you through your dreams and intuition and help you to make decisions when you are uncertain. they will give you courage to do the unexpected and strength to overcome challenges. If you are working with natural healing remedies then they are especially helpful in this area. Shamanism is also on the rise as a means of healing mental and emotional ailments, as well as treating some physical ones, but this is too broad a subject for me to discuss here; however, shamanism is definitely something to be explored and seriously engaged with if you wants to get back to the old ways and connect to the ancients. Shamanic journeying and vision quests are a means by which we can communicate directly with the Gods and ancestors.

I have seen so many people who have heard the call of the old ways, and wish to live more closely in accordance with nature but don't know how or where to start. I too have begun working to revive the knowledge I was gifted when I was younger, using trial and error to perfect the skills which I had forgotten over the years. As followers of the old ways, we yearn to know how to live in the wild, to live as our ancestors did so that we can realign ourselves with them and with the Gods. Orienteering is an extremely useful skill to possess, and it is one which our ancestors would have had inherently. If you are drawn to pagan spirituality, it helps to know the cardinal directions and be able to orient oneself to them at any time of day in any location. Studying ritual magick can help to develop this ability if you are not already practiced in it, for to perform rituals on the sabbats, it helps to know where the sun rises and sets at each time of the year. On the shortest day of the year, winter solstice, the sun is at its lowest point in the sky and only has a small arc, starting in the south east and setting in the south west; in contrast, on the longest day of the year, summer solstice, the sun has a high arc across the sky and thus rises in the north east and sets in the north west. On the vernal and autumnal equinoxes, the length of day and night are equal and so the sun rises due east and sets due west. By knowing the time of the year, one can determine where the sun rises and sets and can therefore know roughly which direction is which without the need for a compass. At night, it helps to know the positions of key constellations in the sky through the course of the year for the same purpose. Of course, cloud cover is always the enemy of the wanderer in this pursuit, and so another method is to examine the trunks of trees or rock faces, for you will often find that moss will grow thickest on the southern side of trees or rocks, as this is the direction from which the moss receives the most light to grow.

When it comes to living as our ancestors did, I have found that my two most valuable tools are my knife and my hatchet. With these one can do almost anything to survive in the wild. But what if one is lost in the wild without these tools? The answer is simple; stone. stones come in all shapes and sizes; large, broad, flat stones can be chipped to create a sharp edge and used like an axe to cut wood or bone. Long, thin, flat stones can be used in the same way as rudimentary knives for precision cutting. Do not use sedimentary rocks as blades, for they are soft and will break easily against hard surfaces. instead, look for stones near bodies of water, preferably fast-flowing, for they are more likely to be smooth and flat from water erosion, as well as harder than other rocks from the complex mineral build-up within them. Use large, round, hard stones like a hammer to chip away at the flat stones, and also to soften wood for cutting or crack open nuts. If one is fortunate (or prepared) enough to already have a knife and/or axe, then one should keep them close at hand at all times. In the Havamal it is written "a wise man on the road never strays far from his spear, for he never knows when he might need it.", the same is true of your blade in the wild. A bush knife, if properly sharpened, can whittle through wood as if it were butter, and can be used for almost every task, from stripping bark to shaping staves, to making rope, to preparing a kill for cooking, and of course for defending oneself from attackers. A sharp axe is extremely useful for the more heavy duty cutting of large pieces of wood or cutting through bones of a carcass, but it is not essential, as the knife can do most of the same jobs with a little more time, patience and exertion.

Knowing how to make and maintain fire is an essential skill for anyone surviving in the wild. the elements will often be against you in this pursuit, so it is important to know the various methods of starting a fire in various weather conditions. Friction is the easiest way to get a fire going and is relatively easy to achieve even in the harshest of weather. If the ground is wet, find a thick branch and split it open; the innermost sections of the wood are most likely to be dry. Ensure that the wind and rain are at you back when trying to ignite the fire, for your body will act as a shield against the elements and protect the wood from becoming saturated or your flames from being blown out. Bore a small hole into the dry section of wood, but not through it, then insert a thin stick of dry wood into the hole ensuring that it is a tight fit; the tighter the fit, the more friction there will be and the more heat will be produced. clasp the upright stick between you palms and rub your hands back and forth, causing the stick to drill into the hole in the branch. This generates the heat. Next, having collected small dry wood shavings from the split wood, sprinkle them like dust into the heated hole in the wood, then repeat the process until you begin to see a steady stream of smoke. dry grass or very thin twigs should be pressed onto the hot wood, but not so tightly as to deprive the area of oxygen; allow a constant flow of air to the heated area to feed the fire. If the twigs do not catch fire, repeat the first few steps to further increase the heat output, then try applying the wad of twigs again. Once the wad catches fire, the flames must be fed instantly. I have found that the best fuel for this is 'bark bouquet' which is formed by shaving a branch up to halfway along its length, allowing the strips to curl and remain attached to the rest of the branch. hold this in the flames to help them grow. Once you have a strong flame, set it on a bed of leaves and small twigs, best arranged like a tepee to help the flames climb and grow. Add gradually bigger pieces of kindling until you have a fully formed fire; it is always best to strip away the bark as this retains the most moisture, so removing it will allow the flames to take hold of the wood easier and consume the fuel faster. This is but one method of making fire; there are countless more which I haven't the space or time to convey here.

Other useful tools include rudimentary spear and a survival bow, the latter of which is difficult to make and requires animal sinew to make an adequate bow line. In both cases, the raw wood should be your own height in length, and devoid of knots along its length as these can weaken the shaft, causing to crack and split under strain. The spear can be made by simply whittling down the end to a sharp point. The bow however, requires much attention to be paid when shaping it. The hand grip should be no more than a hand's length in the middle of the shaft, and both limbs at either end must be the same length as each other, as well as the same thickness with the same taper from 2" thick near the hand grip, to 1.25" at the tips, which must be perfectly in line with one another. This will ensure that the bow draws and fires straight. Next you must get the tiller as close as possible between both limbs; this is the arc or bend of each limb, and should be no deeper that a thumb's length from tip to hand grip, so that when the bow line is knocked there is only a thumb's length of space between it and the hand grip, (this is where the phrase 'a rule of thumb' comes from). The bow line can be made from animal sinew, cut into thin strips and stretched with application of low heat, or from plant fibres, although finding and harvesting the correct materials for the job can be impossible depending on where you are in the world. A survival bow, if made properly, can deliver enough force to bring down large game such as deer, and if the measurements and alignments are correct, it can be fast and accurate enough to hit a bird in flight, so you'll never have trouble getting your next meal with one of these.

For now, I have rambled enough about my  experience of following the old ways, so I will sign off for now. I hope that this article has conveyed some useful information, and I hope that it has been of value in some way. For more information on survival tips, I recommend visiting the Native Survival Guide Youtube channel on this link: https://www.youtube.com/user/Nativesurvival
It has been a huge help to me and I'm sure it will be to you too. Until my next installment, have a great day or evening, and may the Gods be with you.

Enki Endymion. O(

Tuesday 14 February 2017

The Burning Sky Chronicles: Storm Front - Prologue



Prologue

The world is strangely calm today, the waters so empty, so still; even the currents that are usually so strong in the deepest parts feel subdued, lethargic for some reason. At least it’s warmer though; a bitter chill has been carried down from the snowy peaks these past few moons, but now the first rays of the springtime sun are heating the surface again; and less disturbance on a day such as this means the light penetrates deeper. It warms the icy blood, invigorates the muscles and gets the old stiff limbs moving. Creeping out from the shade of the river bank, and into the shifting golden rays, there is an odd smell, a thick, rich, mouth-watering, meaty aroma. It’s good, so good, and irresistible like the urge to follow it to its source. The feeling is strong, similar to when the dark shapes appear on the surface and we just have to go to them. Maybe that’s why it’s so empty now? Too many of us give into the urge and disappear into the light outside. But this feeling is slightly different, the smell, the urge, they are one. They are food.

Following the scent, it seems to be coming from up river where the falls make the water rough and difficult to see through. Moving slowly upstream, the smell gets stronger and sets all of the senses tingling. The hunger burns as the scent intensifies, and there it is... the source. Two huge lumps of meat wrapped around one another, still wriggling. Worms. Big, fat, lovely, juicy worms! Drifting in the current, tantalisingly close now, they smell so good they’re impossible to resist. Blinded by hunger, excitement and the churning foam from the waterfall, it is easy to miss the shiny steel hook impaled through the two worms, or the dark, fine line that rises and vanishes into the blurry brightness above the surface. There’s no pain, not really. There is just the “pop” as the hook sticks into the side of the mouth, then a sharp tug, then the lack of control as the dark shapes on the surface draw swiftly closer. Then the panic sets in, when we realise that we cannot let go, cannot escape. The line pulls slowly and relentlessly, and the real struggle begins. Have to fight, have to get away, can’t give in and disappear like the others. Fight! But it’s no use; the water parts and blinding light and cold air engulf and disorientate us, and all the weight of the world seems to be suspended on that tiny steel hook. The end is coming, somewhere from behind there will come a sharp thump, and then...nothingness. Waiting. Waiting is the worst part...

***

“Bloody ‘ell lad, that’s a big’n!” yelled Jeremiah, impressed, “feed yer sisters for a week that will!” The old man stood with a groan, feeling the all too familiar cracking in his joints and back as he stretched before ambling over to his grandson, Brandon.
“How much d’ya think it weighs, granddad?” he asked excitedly, holding the trout in front of his face on the line, admiring it with a broad grin.
“Ooh, at least 7lb that one, sunshine. C’mon, let’s un’ook ‘im and put ‘im out ‘is misery.” Jeremiah slipped the hook from the fish’s mouth and reached for his mallet. A quick thump on the head from behind was always the kindest way to go, poor thing wouldn’t have a clue what happened until it was too late. Brandon leaned in, intrigued to watch the fish die. There was always something about death that fed on his attention ever since his uncle, Cornelius, had died in the Seven Hour War. But before Jeremiah could land the fatal blow, a shadow on the surface of the river caught his eye; something akin to a bird, but not, seemed to be moving swiftly in tight circles above the cliffs to the west. Holding his mallet steadily in the air, he looked up across the river towards the cliffs that towered above him over 500 feet high, but he saw nothing vaguely resembling a bird in the early morning sky. He returned his gaze to the fish and tightened his grip on the mallet, and his breath tightened with it when he saw the same dark shape in the reflection on the water, circling above the slabs. It must have been one large bird to be so visible at such a height! He scanned  across the river a second time, but again saw nothing. He straightened unsteadily and looked at his grandson with an expression that appealed for some reassurance that he was still sane.
“What’s wrong granddad? D’ya feel funny again? Should I go ‘n tell ma’?” Brandon asked, jumping to his feet and dropping the struggling trout which flopped and thrashed its way back into the water. Jeremiah shook his head and held up a hand to silence the boy’s worry. The shape still adorned the water’s face, and yet there was still nothing in the sky above.
“Come away from ‘water, lad” he said, eyeing the apparition with suspicion and concern. As he pulled Brandon away from the water’s edge he noted that the shape had increased in size dramatically, and rather than moving in tight concentric circles, it appeared to be spiralling downwards in wide arcs…straight towards them! With mounting anxiety, Jeremiah scanned the skies one more time and again saw nothing; and yet the shape continued to spiral, growing in size, though there were no details to be discerned in its silhouetted form on the river. Jeremiah dropped his mallet and began to back away hurriedly, fearing that some dark magick was at work, nymphs perhaps? There had been rumours among the villages, children seen wandering by the rivers and lakes, people disappearing in the night. Now Brandon seemed to notice the strange apparition and backed away also, his eyes fixed on what he believed to be a monstrous fish in the river. The two retreated behind a nearby tree and crouched in the undergrowth, waiting. For what, they didn’t know, but wait they did.
“What is it granddad?” Brandon asked, the fear now evident in his voice.
“I don’t know, lad. But whatever ‘tis, I don’t like it.” He paused in an attempt to steady his nerves. “We should ‘ead back, don’t worry ‘bout the gear. Let’s just get outta dodge.” He was ready to move and head for the bridge that would take them back to the village; but as he took his first step, the surface of the river became tumultuous and began to ripple and heave as if caught in high wind. The air fell still and heavy as if enclosed in a glass dome, and a deep rumbling vibration made the small rocks on the ground tremble and dance. Within seconds all light on the river was blacked out as the shadow seemed to descend and squeeze all other images out of the reflection. The pressure in the air increased, keeping pace with the quaking of the ground until it was too much to bare, forcing Jeremiah and Brandon to their knees and covering their ears in vain efforts to alleviate the pain. It all came to an abrupt end as the surface of the river exploded, sending spray and sediment flying 200 feet into the air. The stillness was shattered by a thunderous scream, and as the spray settled it revealed the gargantuan hulking form of a winged serpent, mottled slate grey and sandy brown, over forty feet long with a wingspan to match. It had no legs, but hauled itself onto the riverbank with talon-tipped claws on the central joints of its wings, its body winding from side to side, slithering out from the muddy creek. Jeremiah and Brandon watched in horror, the former with his hand clasped tightly over the latter’s mouth, still crouched in the scrub behind the tree. The beast raised its head, slim and narrow with a short snout, it’s crown adorned with short blunt horns like those of a young ram. This monster was not yet fully grown! It surveyed its surroundings through sharp, slit-like pupils set into almond shaped, golden-green eyes, then parted its maw to allow a long, thin tongue to whip out and taste the dewy air. Jeremiah’s blood froze in his veins as the beast turned its gaze in their direction, still tasting the air with apparent satisfaction before turning its body and lowering its head to the ground. It had found them. Jeremiah knew it was hopeless trying to run at this point; he would tell Brandon to head for the bridge while he attempted to distract the creature’s attention for as long as he possibly could. He took a deep breath and tightened his grip on Brandon’s shoulder, steadying himself; but something occurred to him in that moment, a strange and unfamiliar feeling that caught him off guard. It was as if the fear that burned through his body and set him shaking like a leaf in a gale was not his own. He was terrified to be certain, but his was a fear for his life and that of his grandson. This was a different type of fear, one that was alien to him, for it was more similar to the fear one feels when lost in a deep forest at nightfall, the longing to be back home, safe by an open fire surrounded by those you love; fear, mixed with the agony of separation. Somehow he knew that the creature before him felt the same way as he did, or that he felt as it did. And as quickly as it had come the feeling passed, and the creature’s attention passed with it. Turning away from the pair’s hiding place, the beast spread its immense wings, coiling itself into an upright position like an adder ready to strike its prey, and with a mighty thrust and a rush of wind it took flight, following the river for some quarter of a mile before spiralling upwards and banking in the direction of a valley to the South West into which it vanished from view. It was over ten minute before anyone spoke or dared to move. Brandon was shaking and weeping silently, and Jeremiah felt that familiar stabbing sensation in his chest which urged him to make a move.
“Now lad, no need fer them tears. What d’ya think yer mam’ll say if she saw ya like that, eh?” he tried to comfort the boy as best he could, “You need to head back to the village ‘n let folks know what’s just ‘appened. ‘N tell yer mam to bring my ‘erbs will ye!” He pushed Brandon to his feet and slumped against the trunk of the tree. The shade was nice, relaxing, and he felt calmness wash over him as he watched the sunlight dancing on the emerald grass. Brandon recognised the signs, and with assurance that he would return shortly, he sprinted at full speed towards the bridge and made all haste for home.
***
Miles away to the North, a dark figure stooped low over a shallow pool of water in a forest clearing, rinsing the still warm blood from shaking hands. The sacrificial offering lay arranged as described in the ancient tome which sat open on a tree stump; the girl’s torso, pale and shapeless in its pre-pubescent purity, lay in the centre of the clearing. Etched into the previously flawless skin were the glyphs of the desert language of the birds, an invocation to the one true God. The vital organs were spread evenly from the bottom end of the torso in a Westerly direction. The arms were nailed to a tree to the South, the legs were nailed to one to the North, and the head with its flowing golden hair, now think with black drying blood, sat in a raven’s nest in a tree to the East. The eyes and tongue had been cut out and burned in the brazier by the side of the pool, while the offering was alive of course; the suffering emits an energy powerful enough to resonate through the planetary spheres. The water in the pool was crimson by the time those wretched hands were clean. The monk straightened and sighed. It was impossible to stop the satisfied smile from creeping from one side of the face to the other. Scrying was a useful art to master, for it had shown the monk that the offering had been accepted. After years of devotion and prayer, years of searching for the sacred texts, all the deception, torture and death had finally culminated in this historic moment, a moment that would be remembered by none, but one that would re-write history and shape all that was to come. The Void Mother had answered the call and opened the first door; the arrival of the dragon was proof of that. There were more doors to be opened, more signs to stitch into the fabric of reality, and this would be the first sign of many to herald their dominion over a new world.