The Sisterhood is Forged
Chapter 6
I turned the last page of the small book I’d found open on the table when I woke up, it wasn’t there when I went to bed I’m sure. For a long time I just sat there and stared at the title ‘THE SISTERHOOD’ and knew somehow it had something to do with me. I picked up my quill to copy the story into my journal. “Legend tells us before the collision, in the dark years of King Jaconious’s reign there was a great winter. The winds blew frigid and snow fell for months on end. Temperatures never rose above -40o and only when the weak sun was at its zenith could a person survive for more than a few minutes outside regardless of how much clothing they wore. The deep forests which were protected from the worst of the blowing winds from the north held the only signs of any life. This is where the Mountain Bison took shelter. Things were bad unless you lived in the palace. There wasn’t enough food to feed the people and the king’s men patrolled the forest to keep anyone from gathering or hunting there, but many died trying. Those who tried in the daylight hours were shot down while the ones who dared venture out at eventide out of desperation were encased in ice where they stood. The people huddled in the long houses for warmth, during the short daylight hours they ventured out and hurriedly stripped bark from the dead trees and wood from the houses for firewood while the children dug in the frozen ground for roots. The bark and roots were then boiled in melted snow to make a weak soup and the wood from the houses was burned for warmth but still the king would not relent. Then came the time when the firewood was also gone. In the darkest hour of the Winter Solstice a flame appeared on the high hill, it became brighter until it outshined the pale winter sun and the villagers could feel the warmth from it even at that distance; yet, it consumed nothing around it. Then the flame moved towards the village and in its center walked a beautiful woman. Where ever she stepped the snow melted and the ground thawed, the people were amazed, they poured out into the streets to watch as she went by. When the woman reached the gates of the palace she stopped and raised her arms and spoke. “Hear me Great Mother. These Your people have suffered long under the cruelty of the ruler of this land. They parish and die at his hand, by design and the wish of His Lord. My sisters and I have come to right this wrong and breathe life back into Your World, We seek Your blessings and Your strength in this. So mote it be.” (“Hear me (“Great Mother. These Your people have suffered long under the cruelty of the ruler of this land. They parish and die at his hand, by the design, and the wish of His Lord and Master. My sisters and I have come to right this wrong and breathe life back into Your World, We seek Your blessings, Your help, and Your strength in this matter. So mote it be.”) As she spoke the last words more women appeared beside her. The sky above the palace became blacker then midnight. Lightening flashed, the sky opened up, and the winds blew from all directions. The palace burst into flames; it is said the screams of those trapped inside could be heard in the far villages as a wall of wind and ice prevented anyone from escaping. The ground shook and the people watched as the buildings crumbled. Then the women banged their staffs on the ground and shouted something. Suddenly, a column of purple light rose up around the wreckage. When it disappeared there was no sign the palace had ever existed. The next morning the people awakened to warm sunshine and the sound of singing coming from Bison Woods; the loved ones who had been frozen in their tracks trying to gather food were returning with fresh meat and wild foods from the forest. The villagers ran to greet them oblivious to the millions of new green plants shooting up under their feet. That night and every night for weeks after the balefires were lit. The people prayed and gave offerings of thanks to the mysterious visitors and The Goddess who had sent them. The land soon became prosperous and stayed that way for many eons but the people grew complacent and all too soon forgot the Olden Ways.” When I’d finished I ate some dinner and dressed for sleep then I sat down to brush my hair. Suddenly I knew exactly who I was and always had been. Forgetting sleep and my hair I picked up the quill and began writing. A child was born in a small hamlet under the shadow of a mountain covered by ancient forest on the eve of the Summer Solstice. She was a fair skinned child with hair the color of a sunset and huge dark eyes that seemed to flash sparks when she was angry; she bore a birthmark in the shape of a crescent moon on her right temple. Some swore she was the offspring of enchantment, born with a wild spirit. From the time she could walk she seemed much more at home playing in the springs and thickets with the Fairie and Wee Folk then with the other children, a preference she never quite out grew. Her name was Bella. In her eighth year her Mother died from a fever that spread through the entire land and Bella, like many other orphaned children, was sent to The Sisters of St. Bridget at the foot of the mountain. Life was hard, and she longed for her forest friends. There were thirty seven girls ranging from five to fifteen living at the orphanage. It was assumed most of them would become members of The Cloister or at the very least wives or servants to some Nobleman. They were taught to read and write and carefully watched to ensure obedience but Bella was marked, her strange appearance and disposition made her unsuitable for anything but the most menial of work. She was segregated from the others and sent to the fields where she was beaten and starved and worked from daylight to dark. There were others in the fields like her – marked in some way which made them different – she became friends with two of them. Lilith, like Bella was fair skinned. She was flaxen haired with grey eyes that could see right through you and moved with the grace of a bird in flight but didn’t speak. She was the same age as Bella. The other girl was called Loka. She was ebony skinned and beautiful and bore a white jagged scar on her cheek from a knife wound inflicted by her drunken Father. She heard voices in her head and was thought to be touched. They shared everything, their meager food supply, their shelter, a rebellious attitude, even their birthdays and together they would escape. The girls began carefully hiding small scraps of whatever food they could find and Loka managed to steal some water gourds from a wagon which they buried on the far side of the wheat field farthest from the main house. They had even managed to piece together capes from grain sacks and rags for warmth which they stained with walnut hulls to help them blend into the shadows better. As first harvest approached they waited for the time of the Dark moon. When the night was darkest they silently crept from the hut: all knew if they were caught running they would be beaten to near death and left for the crows and dogs to devour. They reached the open space between the fields and forest just as the sun began to rise. With the sound of the awakening camp in their ears they ran without looking back. From the shadows of the forest the three girls listened as they ate and rested. They could hear the distant sounds of angry voices and dogs barking and knew their absence had been discovered. Bella looked around and felt a sense of belonging like coming home; seeing a glimmer of light appear in front of her she led the way as they walked without fear deeper into the tall undergrowth. We stepped out into a clearing with blackberries, nut trees, and edible plants in abundance. It had a small stream running through it and a soft mossy area to rest on. The orb we’d been following flitted to the ground and stopped as the path disappeared behind us. The next morning we were awakened by the sound of tinkling bells and discovered that sometime during the night the rough cloaks we’d been using as blankets had been replaced by soft new ones, beautiful new dresses had also been left for each of us. Loka dug some Amole Soap Plants while Lillith and I buried the rags we’d been wearing then we bathed and washed our hair in the stream and put on our beautiful new clothes. I looked at my reflection in the still waters, fascinated by what I saw. The deep red and cream gown trimmed in a burnished gold design that I wore made my hair glow like a warm fire against my skin, I was beautiful. The other two looked equally as beautiful, Loka in a deep emerald green with hundreds of small multi –colored stones on the bodice and wearing a headdress of leaves and flowers looked like a forest nymph while Lillith sparkled in the colors of a summer’s sunrise. “Now you truly look like Guardians of The Elements. Welcome home My Sisters. It is time to meet your real family,” said a beautiful woman with blue hair that cascaded to her waist stepping into the clearing. Spring, as she calls herself filled us in as we walked through the forest. We are the human incarnations of the Elements. Earth is represented by Loka and given the name Ivy; everyone agrees this suits her much better. Lillith who represents Air chose to continue being called by her name and our newest companion represents Sea. I am Ember and represent Fire: and so we began our training as Guardians and Daughters of The All Mother under the guidance of the Crone and our sister, Spirit.” I put down the quill and stopped writing at this point. I am hungry so I eat and then bathe and get ready for bed. When I wake the next morning the cavern is gone and I am in a huge bedroom. My phone rings.
