CIRCLES OF STONE (THE MOTHER PEOPLE SERIES) (66 page)

So far, the men
had not discovered the caves, but one day, Zena thought grimly, they
would.  Before that time came, she must take the young Zena away. 
Her daughter was the next guardian of the sacred knowledge, and she must keep
her safe.

The sharp sound of
pebbles hitting the ground brought terror to her heart.  Was it possible
that this time the men had found the entrance to the tunnels?  

She strained her
ears, listening, afraid.  But there were no more sounds.  Perhaps some
small rocks had fallen in the adjoining chamber.

For a long time,
the group sat in complete silence.  Even the children knew they must make
no noise at all.  After a while, Zena handed them some berries to eat, to
make the waiting less arduous.  They always kept food and water in the
chamber now, for times like this.  Finally, when the light that came
through the opening high above told them many hours had passed, Conar rose.

"I will see
if they are gone," he whispered.  Zena nodded and watched him slip away,
silent as a shadow.  The familiar agony invaded her heart, but this time
it was worse because she knew the men were nearby.  They could be hiding
in the woods, behind the rocks, where they could spot Conar as he left the
tunnels.

The young Zena
reached for her mother's hand.  Her small face was clouded with
worry.  She, too, suffered when Conar left.  Zena held the child's
palm against her cheek, tried to smile in reassurance.

"Protect
Conar for us, Great Goddess," she prayed silently.  "Keep him
safe, for we love him and we need him to warn us." 

The agony did not
dissipate.  It would not leave her until Conar returned; she knew that
from experience.  To distract herself, she began to think of the ones who
had already left, to search for a new home in a place where the violence had
not yet come.  Zena had sent them east, always east toward the sun, for
that was what the Goddess had shown her.

Lilan, now a wise
one herself, had led the group. Pulot and Nevilar and Gunor had gone with her,
taking Rofal and Sarila and their tiny infant, many others in the tribe as
well.  Even Katli had gone, for Zena had persuaded her that one who knew
the animals so well would be needed on the journey. To lose them had been hard,
but Zena was certain that one day they would be reunited. 

Probably she and
Conar and the young Zena should have gone, too, Zena thought, watching her
daughter's anxious face.  But it had seemed to her that only here, in the
place where the Mother had been born, could the young Zena learn all she would
need to know to speak for the Goddess in the years to come.  To leave
Menta and Lune had seemed unbearable as well.  In the last years, both of
them had become old and frail.  Menta especially had been too weak to
travel, and Zena had known that Lune would never leave her sister - and so she
had stayed. 

She glanced at the
fresh dirt at one edge of the circle of stones.  Menta and Lune were there
now, buried side by side in the Mother's chamber, as they had wished.

"When we
return to the Mother, you must bury us here," they had said. 
"It is a good place to be, for part of us will be here always, in the
sacred circle built by the Mother Herself." 

They had died
within days of each other, as connected in death as they had been in
life.  A sickness that had affected many in the tribe had carried Menta
away first.  Seeming then to lose all strength, Lune had followed. 
Zena had offered them herbs, thought of trying to heal them, but they had waved
her away.  "It is time for us to return to the Mother," they had
agreed.  "She awaits us."

Sadness overcame
Zena again as she remembered, but she knew, too, that this could be a signal
from the Goddess that the time to leave had come.

Conar was suddenly
by her side.  Relief flooded her, and she pulled him close.  He
pressed against her, and she felt his heart thud harshly against her chest.

"They have
gone," he told her softly.  A sigh passed through the chamber as the
others relaxed.  Some of the children began to chatter, their voices quiet
as if they were not quite certain yet that talking was safe.  They
understood the meaning of danger, Zena thought sadly, for they were children
she had brought to the caves after their tribes had been raided.  They had
watched as the men they loved were slaughtered, had seen their mothers and
sisters raped and taken away.  For this reason, too, she was glad she had
stayed.  At least she had been able to save some of the children by
bringing them here.

The young Zena
came to greet Conar, and he reached down to enfold her in his arms.  Ten
years had passed now since her birth, but she was still small enough to
hold.  Still, she was strong, in her mind as well as her body, Zena knew.

Conar looked at
Zena over the child's head, then his eyes returned to the child, and then they
traveled once again to Zena's face.  She understood his unspoken
warning.  To keep the young Zena here was no longer safe.  She must
hurry, to finish the training.

"I need one
more day, only one more," she told Conar, her eyes anxious. 
"Can you tell if the men will return?"

"They follow
the bison tonight," Conar replied, "tomorrow as well.  But they
will be back.  I know many of their words now, and I heard them speak of
caves.  It is possible they know of this place."  The warning look
returned to his eyes.

"I will be
ready tomorrow," Zena promised.  "After I have taken the young
Zena with me to greet the Goddess, we will leave."

Conar nodded and
slid through the tunnel to resume his watching.  Zena breathed another
prayer for his safety, then she led her daughter into a quiet corner of the
cavern.

"Tomorrow,"
she said, trying to keep her voice steady, "we must leave, to go to the
other caves, the ones Conar spoke of.  To stay here is no longer
safe."

Three days'
journey to the east, Conar had discovered a smaller group of caves.  They
would go there first; then, when they were certain the danger was past, they
would begin the search for Lilan and her group.

"I wish to
stay here."  The young Zena's face was stubborn.

"That cannot
be," Zena replied sadly.  "The men with knives are coming
closer.  One day, they might find the entrance to the caves, and then all
of us could be killed."

"But who will
protect the Mother's home if we are gone?"

"We must
trust that the Goddess Herself will protect it," Zena answered.

The young Zena's
face was a mask of sadness as she absorbed these words.

"Taggart and
Lipa are at the other caves already, waiting for us," Zena told her
gently.  "They went ahead to make sure the way was safe if we needed
to come."

Taggart and Lipa
were Pulot's oldest son and daughter, and were two of the people Zena had
chosen to help her guard the young Zena on their journey.  Both were
strong and fearless, and they loved the young Zena dearly, would give their
lives for her if that was needed.

The child's eyes
lit up at the thought of seeing two of her favorite people again, then grew
sober once more as she remembered what the journey meant.

"Now you must
eat and drink," Zena continued, "for a special task awaits us, one
that may take many hours.  As soon as you are ready, we will go together
to the Kyrie.  The Goddess Herself wishes to teach you now, through Her
visions.  Only in that way can you absorb the remaining lessons in the
time that is left to us.

"I will stay
with you," she added, seeing her daughter's eyes widen in apprehension, or
perhaps it was awe.

When they had
eaten, she led her daughter to the deep black pool and held her close as the
dark water closed around them.  The child pressed against her but made no
sound as the almost imperceptible current slid them gently toward the rocks on
the far side of the chamber.  No turbulence, no whirling vortex assaulted
them, as it had when she had first entered the pool, and Zena was
grateful.  There was so much already for the child to absorb, so very much
for one so young.

Pain spliced
through her chest as they clambered up the steep path to the cliff.  It
was not shortness of breath that caused her pain, or even fear, only the
knowledge that she would never again climb these rocks with the beloved
daughter who clung so tightly to her hand.  She had thought to bring her
here many times, to sit with her and listen to her thoughts, watch her grow in
the Mother's wisdom, and now she would not.

Zena stopped for a
moment, steeling herself.  To teach the young Zena and keep her safe was
most important, and she must not let sadness deter her from her purpose. 
Even if all of them were killed, even if she herself died, the young Zena would
have the sacred knowledge, and the Mother's ways would not be forgotten. 

They came to the
opening high on the cliff.  Zena led her daughter out upon the ledge and
stood, arms upraised, to greet the Goddess.  The young Zena watched, still
and silent.

"Great
Goddess, I bring You my daughter, who is destined to serve You, for she, too,
bears the name of Zena.  Help her as she learns Your ways; walk within her
as she journeys through her life.  Send her Your knowledge, Your wisdom;
guide her heart and mind as she leads our people in the years to come. 
Blessed Mother, we reach now for Your strength."

Zena waited until
she felt the Goddess within her, deep and secure, before she turned to speak to
her daughter.  The young Zena listened carefully, for she knew she must
never forget what she learned this day in the sacred place.

"For many
years, more than any can remember," Zena told her, "we have lived in
harmony with each other and with the life around us.  That is because we
have followed the ways of the Mother, the ways of peace and caring.  In
each tribe, there was a wise woman who taught the Mother's ways to her
daughter, or her sister's daughter; she, too, passed on her knowledge, and so
it has been, until now, for all the years of our existence.

“Some of these
wise ones were called Zena, like ourselves.  To us, the Mother entrusts
her most arduous tasks.  The first one lived long ago, before the time of
our people's memory.  Still, her love for her people, her suffering when
they were hungry or in pain, was no different than our own.  The next Zena
could see far more with her mind than any other, and she changed our world in
many ways.  Because of her, all people came to know the Mother, so that
all could live in peace.

"The one who
came after her was myself, and already you know  something of my
story.  But now you must know all; you must journey into my heart and
mind, into the hearts and minds of the others who bore the name of Zena, for we
are one even as we are separate.  Here, as we wait on the cliff, the
Goddess will bring you our lives, in Her visions.  You will feel our joy
and suffering, know our thoughts, our fear and wonder, see and hear all that we
have seen and heard, until you have become us.  Only in this way can you
fulfill the destiny entrusted to you by the Goddess: to keep the Mother's ways
alive in the time of trial to come.

"Come with me
now, child, come with me to  greet the Goddess, for She calls us. 
Pull Her wisdom into your heart, Her strength into your body, Her love into
your heart.  Feel Her deep within you as She takes you back to the beginning,
to the one who was first called Zena.  She will teach you, as each of us
will teach you.  Fill yourself with our lives, our knowledge and visions,
all that we have experienced, until we have become a part of you, a part of all
the Zenas yet to come, so that the ways of the Mother will never be
forgotten."

Hours passed,
hours that encompassed days and months, then years beyond counting.  The
sun vanished in an explosion of orange and red, and darkness crept across the
land, became black as the pool below.  Not until the moon was high in the
night sky did the young Zena finally slump to the ground.  Tenderly, Zena
carried her down the steep rocks, through the deep pool, and into the circle of
stones.  There the child slept for many hours.  And when she opened
her eyes again, Zena knew her daughter had fulfilled her mission.  The
visions were hers now, never to be forgotten.  When the time came, she
would pass them to the next Zena; she would pass them to the next, and so it
would be without end.  Thus would the Goddess live. 

*************************

The vast chamber
was dark save for a faint glimmer of early light that filtered through the
opening high in the cliffs.  Zena sat stolidly within the circle of
stones, her body heavy with anguish.  To leave the home she had lived in
for so long seemed more than she could bear.

"We go
now."  Her voice was barely audible in the cavernous space, but the
others heard.  One at a time, they came to kneel before the Goddess, then
made their way through the narrow passages to the entrance to the caves.

Zena rose and went
to stand before the image of the Goddess. "Great Mother," she prayed,
"we grieve that we can no longer guard the sacred chamber that is Your
home.  Keep it safe for us, so that we can hope one day to return. 
Protect all of us who worship You as we search for a new home where we may live
by Your ways.  Great Mother, we go now, from this place where You were
born.  May we keep it always in our hearts."

Slowly, she turned
away.  Conar came to take her hand; the young Zena went ahead, her small
body straight and purposeful.  They bent to crawl through the narrow
passage that led from the Mother's chamber, and emerged into the room Conar and
Lilan had painted.  The bison and reindeer and the other animals stared
down at them, as if they, too, were bidding them farewell.  Through the
winding tunnels they went, to the magnificent chamber with its hanging needles
and massive upright pillars.  The formations glimmered softly in the dim
light of Conar's flare.  The walls of the caves pressed in on them then,
as they had so many years ago when Conar and Zena had first entered the
caves.  Then, with startling suddenness, they were outside.