Between Darkness and Light Trilogy (36 page)

~~~

I am a child, dancing and singing with
Mathair; her voice is music and her words always filled with love.
I sit in her lap, amidst a field of flowers.

“Look around you, Shi'ahn, you are
surrounded by the Circle of Life. The plants draw nutrients from
the soil, absorb gases from the air that do not nourish animal
life, they absorb sunlight and give off life sustaining oxygen.
They make sweet smelling flowers that draw bees, who spread the
pollen, helping the flowers make more flowers. Some bees collect
the pollen and make honey, of which you are so fond. The bees
eventually die, as do the plants, but their discarded bodies decay
and become nourishment in the soil for future plants. All that is
living eventually dies, and then becomes nutrients for others to
thrive upon. That is the Circle of Life, and it is sacred. All life
is sacred, Shi'ahn, always remember that. The simple blade of grass
is not equal to the sentient being, but it is nonetheless sacred.
Everything is a part of the greater whole, everyone and everything
has its part to play, and together we create the symphony that is
the Universe.”

I look questioningly up into her beautiful
eyes, “What do we give back to the world?”

“That is up to each of us to decide. Our
lives are not as simple as the plants or animals lives, we must
discover our purpose and then do all that we can to fulfill
it.”

“But how do I learn what it is that I am
meant to do?”

“Listen
to all around you, the
Universe will reveal what you are to do, if you learn how to
listen
to her. Until that day comes, though, try to spread
love and joy to all around you.”

“Will you
listen
for me again,
please?” I lay my head against her chest, willing her essence to
engulf me.

“As you wish.” Indescribable beauty washes
through me as I
hear
the perfection of the flowers around
us; I give myself completely to their song.

~~~

Another lesson. Now we each stand on a small
raft tethered out in the lake during a windstorm. She says, “You
keep asking how to know what you should do, but mere words will not
suffice. Existence is like the waves and wind; they buffet and rock
us as they please. You must become one with your surroundings so
your body and soul can conform to the needs of the moment. Balance
is the key.”

I fall many times, yet soaked and chilled,
Mathair keeps telling me to climb back up and give myself over to
the storm that surrounds us. “Life does not pause and wait for you
to figure it out, you have to learn to adapt instantaneously. Use
every sense you can, listen to the shifts in the wind, to the roar
of the white-capping waves. Watch the waves, see how they grow and
subside, feel both the rocking of your raft and the buffeting of
the wind. Become one with all you hear, see and feel – become a
part of the storm so that you belong, and you will find your
balance.” She is right.

~~~

On land we dance together to the music she
projects – it is much like the music she
hears
and sometimes
shares with me, as though she is translating it into audible sound.
We give ourselves over to the music, letting it control our
movements; sharing in the ecstasy of life.

~~~

Mathair takes me to the Lunarium. Its
guardians do not ask her the proscribed questions, at the mere
sight of her they become deferential; she tells them to always
treat me the same, then we enter. The deep blue of the night sky
drops away, leaving black filled with tiny specks of light.

“This is the Universe, Shi'ahn; a small part
of she whom we serve. Take my hands and
listen
with me.” The
memory abruptly ends, as though I had been peering through a
doorway that was unexpectedly slammed shut.

~~~

The waters around me turn suddenly cold; I
hear Mathair’s cries as she is led away, they are filled with
sorrow yet accompanied by an undertone of necessity. She is gone,
taken away by a completely unremarkable man. It strikes me for the
first time that my memory of the man is odd – who overtly thinks of
anyone of significance as completely unremarkable? I try to swim
closer to the vision, but I find there is no depth to the figure,
as though he isn’t really there. He backs away from me and
disappears.

~~~

I’m back on the surface again, and cold…
terribly cold. ‘I’m so lonely Mathair! I miss the warmth of your
loving embrace, your musical voice, the depth in your eyes as you
hold my face cupped in your hands.’

I’m drawn further down the stream, I’m older
now… I walk through villages at night and hear families laughing
and playing, and later yet – love encounters. They sound so happy.
During the day I can see the looks these couples exchange – no man
ever looks at me that way. I want one to, I want to be loved. It
isn’t that the people don’t love me, they do… but not the way they
love each other.

William doesn’t have this problem, all he
has to do is smile and any woman who meets his gaze nearly swoons.
I don’t understand! My skin is quite pale, yet beyond that I don’t
think I’m ugly… I know that something about my presence is
different, but William has the same unusual feel and complexion,
yet if anything they increase his attractiveness! Why would they
work to his advantage while destroying mine?

In self-defense I do the only thing I can
think to do – I deny the very existence of my misery. Instead of
pursuing unattainable happiness, I study. Knowledge does not warm
the soul as love would, but it does keep the mind busy. It
distracts from the pain.

~~~

Keep swimming… I’m older yet, and the water
around me is still cold, unshared; when men look at other women
they feel… heat, a wanting… lust. When men look at me they feel
reverence, no one even fleetingly thinks of me as a woman. I’m so
lonely. Keep swimming, searching… I sense an intense memory below –
I dive. The water is warm, welcoming, I immerse myself within
it.

I am older, and though I do not look it, I
am nearly twice the age when most marry. I’m studying with the
Technologists, talking with a friend. I have known Margarette for a
long time; she is the closest thing I have to a human friend
anywhere. It’s strange in a way to have my only friend come from
this hard continent at the bottom of the world, but destiny brings
us what it will. In a moment of unusual openness, I confess to her
how I long for men to see me as a woman. Smiling in a way I’ve
never seen her smile before, she mentions that there are actually
some areas nearby that have never heard of ‘The Shi'ahn.’

I feel overcome with curiosity and
anticipation. “Really? Where? I had understood that my image has
been cast through your news network to all who can see.”

“Not everywhere. There is a region, far
below, where the occupants pay no attention to the world above
them. They prefer their own world, they sing their own songs,
though I do not know if you would care for their din.”

“They are poor musicians?”

“I didn’t mean to imply that they are bad –
as you so often say, as long as even one observer enjoys the music,
it is not bad, merely different. Their music just seems… more
different than any other I have heard.”

I find myself intrigued on many levels, in
fact I have a hard time not thinking of that unusual conversation,
and so on the last night before my departure, the night before I am
to return home to lead the Beltane dances yet again, I decide to
try to celebrate Beltane myself, one night early. I sneak out of
the University grounds, carrying far different clothing to change
into when I am away. I don’t go for the tattered look I’d learned
they like where I’m headed, but more… wild… naughty, yet according
to Margarette it is plausible for the area. I carry a mid thigh
length tight black dress, the neckline low and off the shoulders.
It’s made of a strangely elastic material that shows every curve
perfectly. That would be problematical with underclothes, but this
is my Beltane – I will not be wearing any.

Close to my destination, but still a few
levels above, I go into a restroom, sneak into the ventilation
system and travel down the final levels. Dropping down into another
restroom, I clean myself up, change clothes and apply a special
perfume I created myself – based on an aphrodisiac scent often worn
at the Beltane celebrations. It is partially magical, of course, it
will not wash off or rub onto anything or anyone else – it
essentially becomes a part of the wearer until dispelled. I have
added to it my vial of pheromones that I'd collected during the
final rounds of the Beltane dance… it should prove irresistible if
I can just find the right man. I hide the vial and my good clothes
in the ventilation shaft for later.

I tease my hair out until it resembles a
mane, and apply makeup intended to bring out what provocative
traits I may have. Fortunately I don't have to do anything about my
skin, as Margarette informed me that these technologists are even
more pale than the norm in this underground realm, and many
purposely lighten their skin even further – I'll look much like one
of them. No one has ever seen me as I am tonight! When I’m certain
I shouldn’t be recognized, I stroll confidently out of that
restroom doing my best to look as though I belong in this strange
place, and cast my eyes boldly about in search of an interesting
looking ‘bar’, a place where Margarette said people often go to
meet others.

~~~

At first I don’t recognize anything that
might be a bar; I have to work at keeping the air of confidence and
allure about me as I scan my surroundings. Eventually a man who
looks like a guard on duty in front of some important installation
meets my bold gaze.

“Hello beautiful, you look like you could
use a drink. Follow me, I’m sure we can find something for you
inside.” He takes me to a high counter and indicates that I should
sit in a tall chair.

The man behind the counter asks, “What would
you like, my pretty?”

I keep my voice low, provocative.
“Companionship?”

His expression turns almost wistful, “I
can’t give you that, I’m on duty - but I can mix up a drink that
will make you feel warm all over. On the house.”

I have no idea what his last statement
means… but I try not to let him know, “That sounds like a good
start.” He turns his back to me and whispers something to another
man, who leaves with an air of purpose about him. Just as I finish
my drink, an unusual looking man sits down next to me. His hair
sticks up in spikes and is colored strangely, and his clothes are…
well, I would say tattered, but somehow purposefully so - they are
not old, and are perfectly clear. Odd.

He says, “May I buy you something?”

“I don’t accept gifts from strangers.” He
seems taken aback momentarily, but my smile is playful, so he
smiles back.

“I’m no stranger, I’m Rock, everyone knows
me here. The question is, who are you, my pretty?”

I like the way he says that, he sounds
possessive. But what can I call myself – what doesn’t sound the
least bit like Shi'ahn? “I’m… Maiair.”

“Maiair, that’s pretty. Now that we know
each other, would you care for another drink?”

“Why not?”

“What would you like?”

Rats, I don’t know what they call these
things, what should I say? I try to cover my pause by gazing deeply
into his eyes, and will my perfume to waft toward him. “Whatever
you think I might like – surprise me.” Strangely, all he does is
lift a finger toward the bartender, then gesture toward me, and
nod. The bartender begins to mix something far more complicated
than what I had before. Some of the ingredients come from what I
suspect is a hidden compartment. “So, what kind of rock are you, my
new friend?”

Yet again he looks slightly surprised, but
intrigued as well, “I am all kinds of rock, my pretty.”

“A conglomerate, then? Interesting,” I
glance up at his hair, “but yes - somehow it suites you.” He looks
as though he isn’t really used to something about our conversation.
Oh Shi'ahn, don’t mess this up! Recalling the heated gazes often
exchanged during the later Beltane rounds, I smile invitingly
again, hoping he will forget my strange comment. I also send
another wave of my perfume his way, wishing it to have the desired
effect. His expression returns to one of interest, perhaps mixed
with intrigue. Whew.

The drink he ordered for me arrives, the
glass is warm when I pick it up, and I’m apparently meant to drink
it through a very thin straw that widens out at the top. I sense no
magic, but the strange straw molds itself smoothly to the roof of
my mouth as I suck on it… This new drink is quite thick, I have to
pull fairly hard, but all my doubts are wiped away as the hot
chocolate/coffee creaminess of it slides down my throat, growing
seductively hot as an unusual amount of alcohol and… something else
is absorbed into my mouth and throat. I completely fail to hold
back a moan of decadent pleasure as I lose myself in the
experience. His smile looks interesting – amused? It’s so good I
drink it all without pausing, but slowly, luxuriating in the feel
of it, in the warmth first sliding down my throat, then spreading
throughout my body. His eyes never leave me.

After I finish and take a moment to recover
my senses, I smile invitingly, “That was very good; I’ve never had
anything like it before.”

“Hmm… a good drink isn’t the only thing that
can make a person feel good. Do you like to dance?”

I smile radiantly, “Yes, I love to!”

In a motion belying his strange attire, he
offers me his arm and leads me out to the area where others are
dancing – an unusual amount of space is made for us.

The dancing here is quite informal. They
give themselves over to the music, moving as it demands without
conscious thought; a concept I well understand - but they move
jerkily, as though they feel driven to refuse most of what is
around them. My style is quite different from theirs, I have a
purpose after all. My motions are graceful, fluid, and as seductive
as the music will allow. I dance around Rock, revolving around him
like Shiral around the sun, and almost touch him constantly, nearly
caressing his remarkable chest and arms as though worshiping them.
Nothing about my dance implies refusal. And while the other dancers
do not make eye contact with those around them, I hold Rock’s eyes
as much as possible, and do my best to make it a Beltane fire
worthy gaze. His eyes wander over my body, but they do not leave
me.