Astoria and the Druid Part V
the final chapter(s)
For context, start here.
Welcome, friends, to the final chapter of Astoria and the Druid! No doubt you’ve been on tenterhooks (all five of you ;) ).
Part of the recent hiatus involved the chance to actually visit the North Sea herself; it feels a bit cheeky to describe landscapes you’ve never witnessed, after all. But now I can say with settled assurance that there’s no making up magic where she’s concerned - any archetype she bears in the story merely waves a candle toward the Goodness that is the North Sea (and any of the seas surrounding Scotland).
Astoria and the Druid Part V
And so it was that Astoria, covered by the wool and feathers of the Druid, led a trailing gaggle of children out of the fairgrounds as the sun began to blaze. They were headed for the sea. But first, but first, Astoria had to tell her sisters.
They arrived just as the women were lining up for their morning march to the cave.
Astoria excitedly ran to them, so familiar with each of their bruises and wounds was she. I’ve come back! I and these children with me!
The campfire suddenly gleamed a deep emerald green, hissing, And who is this? Coming with barbs and spears to the sanctity of our camp?
The women, at first blankly frozen, turned as one on Astoria and grimaced.
Astoria shuddered. It is - it is Astoria!
She then realized that she had never spoken her true name with the sisters. Shaking her head, she tried again, I am - I - was, was one of you - I would go daily to the caves and labor, and - I - I know your wounds, every one of you!
You- you have the piercing of your throat, and you, turning to another sister, were burned on your left ankle. And you - motioning to another, hesitating, you, my dear sister…you have lost your heart.
The sisters recoiled as though she had stripped them. How dare you speak to us as if you know us, you with the smooth untouched skin? You have certainly spent no time with us.
Astoria stopped and glanced down in shock. It was true. Her bruises had lifted and wounds were at long last closing up their mouths into scabs. But what was more, as she looked down in the light of the campfire she saw only the purity of the wool covering, with no trace even of the hurts that were healing underneath it. She gasped.
But - I - do know you! Many months have I sat by your fire and joined in the ceremony of weeping. I’ve come back now, back from the depths, to tell you of another way! A way to the sea!
The fire flashed darkly green as the flames crackled viciously. The singsong voice rose dangerously high and harshly wailed, Here we protect ourselves (the women echoed, ourselves, ourselves, ourselves!) from liars and cheats! From soothsayers who would capture and drag us back to the captors to be tortured and trapped!
As the women chanted the fire’s refrain, Litha and Peony, who had been huddled behind Astoria in the folds of the great woolen covering with the other children, peeked out from Astoria’s waist.
Astoria put her hands firmly on their shoulders and stood upright. I am no liar! The Druid, he—
And then all at once, Litha darted out like a shot straight to one of the sisters. She was one of the heartless ones, hollow like a willow reed.
Mama! rang out and pierced the chilly morning.
The woman wordlessly stared down at the girl.
Litha repeated herself, growing shriller by the second, Mama, mama, mama! It’s Litha! I’m alright, alright, I just had a very long nap! I wanted you to know!
She frantically shook the rough cloak of the woman. MAMA! What’s the matter with you? Wake UP!
Astoria could bear it no longer and tried to pull the girl away but Litha had somehow grown preternatural strength and clung to her mother like a leech. Come ON! It’s time to go! NOW! She bellowed.
At this the fire rose up to a hideous bonfire, with dark green flames shooting out like fingers and spouting inky tar that splattered and burned the women. The tar sizzled as it hit the feathers.
Kill the liar, girls! She must be sacrificed for the good of us all!
Litha was now beet red and screaming at her mother as the other sisters darted confused glances at one other. Astoria sickeningly realized that none of them could see the children. Litha’s mother kept peering at her like an ancient bird, empty eyes squinting down from an impossibly high and unforgiving cliff face. She craned her neck but could not see.
And then the sisters snatched at Astoria, pulled feathers and tried to tear the wool. The children all scattered behind the trees, unseen and unheeded by the sisters. All except for Litha, who had not stopped screaming.
Astoria felt them prod and grope at her as if in a dream. For they could not do it; none of their sharp nails or kicks could penetrate the wool. The covering held fast. She tucked her head far down within the wool and waited, heart pulsating with both terror and the heavy peace of the Druid’s covering.
After trying to carry her off into the flame (they found her to be too heavy), burning her with torches (the flames immediately snuffed out upon contact with the feathers) or smearing her with tar (it slid off), the exhausted sisters fell to the ground, panting.
The fire kept wending its way outward, prodding them to keep attacking and burning them in the process, but the women could do nothing further. Finally it withdrew, seething.
Tears streaming down her neck, Astoria slowly poked out her head. She saw a littering of burned, scarred bodies - these women that had given her what shelter they had from the isolated forest.
Litha stood trembling, a short pillar of weeping. Her mother had not moved. Bursting into fresh tears, Astoria pulled little Litha close. Let’s go, Litha. Let’s leave and go to the —
Litha gulped her tears miserably. She doesn’t be-bember be.
Astoria knelt and cupped her face. Darling - she would, I know she loves you, it’s just that… She trailed off. She would not tell the six year old that her mother had lost her heart.
Peony broke in impatiently. We have to kill it.
Astoria turned to face her. She was wrinkling her nose (She used to have freckles - Astoria sleepily thought. She needs to…she needs to have freckles). Don’t be ridiculous. These are my….well, they were my sisters. And anyhow, how could we…
Peony shook her head vigorously. No, the fire. It keeps on lying.
Astoria looked over at the campfire, regrouping and smoldering in smoky hate. Wearily she replied, Yes, Peony, you’re right. But I can’t stop it.
Peony sniffed. The Druid could.
Astoria swallowed a sob at the thought of him. Yes, I’m sure he could, but he’s not here right now. We just have to escape and then He’ll meet us—
Peony interrupted again. But you have his cloak!
Astoria frowned. All the forgotten obstinance of her little sister came flooding back in a rush of annoyance.
That cloak — she grimaced through gritted teeth—is the only thing that’s kept me alive, unless you’ve forgotten the last hour or so.
Peony’s wide eyes lasered into her own. You said they were your sisters!
The two sisters glared at each other for a long few moments before a shuddering whimper sliced the silence. Astoria broke gaze and whirled around - it was Litha’s mother. Her arm had jerked out and her fingers were spasming in the general direction of Litha even as her eyes still kept their desert emptiness.
Astoria swallowed hard her tears. So be it.
She knelt beside her sister, Peony - after I do this, you must run - do you hear me? Run with the other children down the path the Druid told us about. The way to the Sea. Drag Litha if you have to - just do not look back. Promise me- promise me now, Peony.
Peony clasped her hands and solemnly nodded. She and the other children receded to the circle of trees, peeking out at Astoria from a distance.
Astoria twisted away from her little sister’s earnest gaze toward the fire.
CHAPTER SIX
The green flames undulated before her eyes, billowing up ever larger as she stared until they loomed menacingly across the sky. In the hazy periphery she could see women creeping painfully on elbows and knees into little huddles, already beginning to soothe one another as they tended to fresh burns and woundings.
The fire’s song now wove inside her mind, As they have since the dawn of time, my dear. As they will forevermore. And who are you to think you could have ever defeated me, a lone girl in the forest, hallucinating the sea?
Astoria clamped down her lashes. The hypnotic flames still burned her vision, now inversely black upon her eyelids. She took a trembling step forward.
The fire simmered up to a low roar with vicious undertones a mile deep, It pains me to see you betraying your own, my poor, estranged darling. After we have saved you from the misery of the forest, given you all that we have - is this how you repay us?
Astoria opened her eyes into narrow slits and shot back, You mean stroking wounds that never heal? You saved me to weeping and hard labor, nothing more.
Instantly the fire spouted tar and this time it got her, lacerating her cheek and narrowly missing her left eye.
She screamed as the flames cackled, Idiot girl. It does not do to disrespect the sisterhood, my dear. Do not forget what we saved you from. Weren’t you weeping alone then, starving to death in the forest? And before that, remind me, girl - what was your life like while you were getting those bruises? At least now you have your sisters!
Astoria clasped her cheek, radiating pain. She shivered despite the pulsing heat of the burn. She glared at the flames. What do you know of my sister?
The fire guttered for a moment. Surely you mean—
You know who it is I mean! Astoria took another step forward. I mean the girl the circus abducted for child sacrifice-
another step
not half a mile from your camp!
The fire spluttered as if from heavy rain. The sky darkened and the air stilled to deathly quiet.
Astoria threw back her hood. Her name is Peony and she is my sister. And where was your protection then? As children were fed to the machine and dancers to the clowns?
She stomped her feet ever closer.
Night after night after night?
The fire spurted up and tried to bite her with its flames, but found itself contained to a three-foot perimeter. Frantic, it wailed to the sisters, Kill the liar, girls! Stop these dangerous heresies - we must protect ourselves!
But this time there was no resounding, ourselves, ourselves, ourselves…
The sisters were too distracted. They were listening.
Astoria, buoyed by this hopeful development, strode brazenly toward the flames in a burst of adrenaline, ignoring her smarting eyes that burned from the black smoke.
Immediately there came a hissing.
It will hurt.
Astoria paused.
Death by flames.
The fire smiled a slow, hard smile.
Those feathers will smell like a bird on the spit, my dear. As you curdle beneath them. And for what? Rescuing a couple dozen women from the clutches of the only comfort they’ve known in this cruel world? How cruel are you? At least here they have each other…
Astoria shut up her streaming eyes and clenched her jaw.
You. Lie. Here they do not even have themselves. I cannot save the world, I cannot even save them - but I can, bitter grandmother, KILL YOU!
She sealed off her thoughts and her fears like a faucet. Opening wide her arms like an albatross she charged, bellowing a guttural battle cry that clashed the eerie wailing like fury and spears.
And so it was that Astoria ran to the fire, lifting up the most beautiful covering in all the world and hurled it down upon the evil flames.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Black smoke churned up the sides of the campfire, and from within came strangled screaming.
The sisters, too, cried out in terror and anguish, arms helplessly outstretched as they watched their one comfort in the world slowly choke to death.
For the covering would not burn. The feathers shimmered.
Astoria knelt a space apart, fully expecting to be torn to pieces by the grieving women any next second. But as the smoke subsided they all heard a new sound.
Weeping such as had not been heard since the world began. The trees swayed with resonant grief, echoing their deepest sorrow through trembling branches and vibrating leaves.
The sisters ceased their crying out of reverent fear of an ancient primordial wound. At length, a few of them approached the covering, hesitantly lifting it up by the edges.
The wool and feathers now contained a little old woman swimming in wrinkles and snot. She held out an ancient hand and reached for the edge of the garment, spreading it back over her bony frame.
Not yet, she whispered hoarsely.
And then it began to rain.
A heavy mist descended upon the camp, drenching the women and soothing their burns. The mist continued to billow down into every corner of the dusty camp, and from the scorched earth there came great creaky sighs of relief.
The healing moisture clouded and perfumed the air with sweet honey and a sharp swab of vinegar, and soon became so thick that Astoria could scarcely see. But peace came alongside the cloud, and she did not strive to perceive. She let out a contented sigh and sat underneath a tree. Surely the Druid was near. Soon the children came to nest in her lap, Peony curling under the crook of her arm.
All around, laughter and weeping intermingled like bread and wine. Mist gingerly lifted away from one corner of the scene and there the Druid knelt, washing a sister’s wounds with a corner of his robe. She could not take her eyes off his face. Astoria sighed. She knew how it was.
Another billow of mist came and went and Astoria saw Him weeping over one of the heartless ones. The woman’s empty eyes were staring, staring, staring, until she suddenly burst into shrieking sobs and capitulated into his arms, clinging to his robes. He held her close for a long time, and Astoria could see honeyed light within Him slowly trickle out into her chest where it began to beat with a dull rosy glow.
She saw other figures, cloaked in light and feathers like the Druid, also caring for and caressing the sister’s broken frames. Some sisters shrieked and slowly slinked away from the rain-soaked campsite. But most stayed.
Astoria looked and looked into the mist until all of sudden she saw them - a little girl with streaming full eyes and dripping corkscrew hair curled up in a heap at her mother’s feet. Litha clung to her pale stony ankles as they hovered over the ground, as if to drag her by force back down from the ghosts. Every few minutes the mother tremored, glanced down quizzically, then resumed tiredly retracing her scarred chest.
And then came the Druid. He gently, ever so tenderly lifted Litha up in his arms and whispered into her tiny ears. She clung to his side like a baby monkey, curly head tucked under his chin. There was a wash basin full of rainwater and his hands grasped thick cloth as he knelt before the floating heartless one, looking up into the abyss of her eyes with a question. She stared at him uncomprehendingly, but after long seconds, she almost imperceptibly nodded her head.
He carefully washed her feet, still suspended with the ghosts a few inches from the ground. The pure rainwater, smelling of honey and vinegar from the mists, was mixed with his steady tears - and Litha’s. Drying her feet with the handspun cloth, he gently yet firmly drew her down to earth. She gasped, toes pawing the raw dirt like a toddler.
The Druid whispered again to Litha (she’s ready now, love) and hoisted her outstretched toward her mother. Litha’s arms were reaching, reaching, reaching until they clamped down upon her mother’s chest, fingers pressing on her hollowed out heartspace. Her mother jerked but did not pull away, her feet planted firm in the drenched earth.
All of a sudden light flooded the Druid like an exploding star, cascading in and through the little girl straight to the soul of her mother. Hope electric buzzed all through her body, emanating again and again from Litha’s tiny hands on her chest. At last there came a thump. Then another. First jaggedly syncopated, the fresh heartbeats soon settled themselves into a sturdy rhythm that fairly beat back Litha’s fingertips.
Litha’s dark eyes, enormous and boring into the light beneath her fingers, now fluttered up cautiously to meet her mother’s. The woman savagely gasped for air as she crested, at long last, the surface of the deepest sea. Her eyes became as wide as Litha’s as she snatched at her daughter hungrily. All the love that had been dammed up for years behind the wraith of heartbreak broke upon the little one like a tropical storm. Litha could scarcely be seen within a typhoon of kisses. But every so often Astoria could make out a muffled giggle.
She smiled.
Once upon a time and long ago, sunlight on the old North Sea awoke and skimmed over the waves, brightened up the wheatened sea cliffs and flowed out upon the long plains that had escaped the forest.
There it shone on a little girl named after a flower whose skin was gently freckling. She, now walking, now skipping, led a host of children who eagerly raced each other through the tall wavy grasses of the seacoast. Coming up more slowly were women of many different ages, calling their sisters by name. At last came a very old woman, old beyond imagining, clothed luxuriously in a beautiful covering of wool and feathers. Her tears snailed behind them; the sunbeams delighted to reflect and sparkle in her silvery wake.
They settled alongside a fishing village with a marvelous view of the sea. A ring of wildflowers encircled their village; in the center was a chalice. Legends of the deep peace and shalom of the village spread far along the northern coast, and many women and men came to settle there. Astoria’s mother was brought near. Even their old priest came, though he wore the rather scalped look of a penitent raccoon. He had spent time with the Druid.
There Astoria’s mother and her daughters built a new cottage with the help of the Druid and a few kindly fishermen. The ancient grandmother did not speak for many years but when she did her tongue was so cloaked in golden wisdom that travelers and troubadours soon came from hundreds of miles away to come into the presence of her keen sight and sagacity.
Often, as the sun was exhaling the last glimmers of light on the horizon and dusky lavender and russet haunted the sky, two figures could be seen slowly meandering the sea cliffs, picking wildflowers just to float them on the breeze.
