A/N: Finally, I'm posting again! I was originally going to post chapter 5 along with this one, but I'm not done with it as yet. It will be coming soon though! This chapter is a lot deeper than the last one and much more interesting! I think you all will like this chapter ! By the way, I updated my profile too, if anyone was interested.
To my reviewers:
Analey: Thanks so much! After reading "Mists", I was completely entranced by its beauty and complexity, so much that I felt I had to write a fanfic on it! I decided to make Mirouaene a lot like Morgaine, because I loved Morgaine's character a lot. And yes, your story is so sweet! I just love stuff about characters and their lives as kids!
Andromahke: Thanks! Your review is so nice! I agree, it's hard writing a fic on "Mists", but it's such a good book! I'm trying to weave in some extra Arthurian Legend stuff into the story that wasn't in the book as well.
Raistlins Lover: How nice of you to review both my story and my poem! Thank you so much!
Morgan Scarlett or Mneme: Thank you! I'm still thinking about who Mirouaene's real parents should be…not Viviane or Morgause b/c she falls in love w/ their sons later in the book…eh…I'll think about it.
Disclaimer: Do I always have to keep writing one? sigh. Once again all I own is Mirouaene and any other characters that I have made up which I am too lazy to mention at the moment, but you get the idea.
Chapter 4: Intelligence and Mysteries
I stepped awkwardly into a large room touched with a warm, spicy fragrance and the lilting voices of about fifteen soft instruments. I came into view of a small group of priestesses lightly caressing the golden strings of their instruments, which looked very similar to my own. I stood in awe as I listened to the beautiful sound—or sounds. It was so stunning that I could not tell whether it was one girl playing or many. I shyly brought my hand to the gold in my hands and stroked two strings, producing a rather dissonant sound. I flinched as one girl raised her head slightly, but a beckoning wave of her hand loosened the tenseness in my body, and I slowly made my way towards the priestesses. Still feeling timid, I stopped halfway into the room and began to examine the golden beauty in my arms. I cautiously plucked different strings, carefully discriminating which had the higher and lower sounds. I went on, beginning to stroke many strings at once, when a thin, tanned hand rested on top of my own. I looked up from my playing to see the priestess who had beckoned me to sit with her and her friends. She smiled, lighting her face, golden as the wires on the instruments. The girl was very slender, with long, graceful hands, similar to my own. She closely resembled a deer, and as she moved back, her elegant step made me think of a fleet-footed fawn. I held out my hand to shake hers, and she spoke in her melodious voice.
"You play beautifully for one only beginning to learn the art of the harp," she said softly. "Our mistress has not arrived yet, so we are allowed to hang around, play music, and do anything."
"Oh thank you! I was quite fascinated by this massive piece of gold that you call a harp! I am very eager to learn!" I was comforted by her sweetness.
"You have an advantage, then, for those who love what they are taught are those who are taught the most effectively. You will pick up quickly, I am sure."
A darker-skinned priestess came and stood beside the deer-like one. "Tessa can probably teach you herself. She is one of the cleverest, most learned priestesses in the House, I can guarantee!" The younger girl piped.
The girl known as Tessa blushed deeply. I could tell she had been victim to this compliment many times, for she hid a small smile between her red cheeks. I sighed, so Morgaine had been right. Avalon would have a variety of people, intelligent, kind, critical, even some rude. Tessa was one of the more fortunate. I counted on my fingers the number of essentials she possessed. Character…for sure, intelligence as I heard it, leadership…well, she seemed to be the role model for some such as the young priestess who had complimented her. Though I had only just met her, the desire in me had already built on itself, the desire to experience Tessa's eternal happiness, to find a road to joy through this girl, to be her. But you will never earn that privilege, for the Goddess has given to you what has been earned through many lives past. Mourn, as you are doing, or smile along with Tessa, and all for that matter. I heard the voice speaking, bellowing from my heart, flowing through the many complicated passageways of my body. It filled me with a fear, an awe. A fear that would lead me to heed it. However, I only had the ability to fall as prey to my envy, my wicked desire. I had no knowledge of whether I had disobeyed the words of the Goddess, or my own. I gradually melted out of my muddled trance, and silently nodded in response to the dark girl's kind word as an older lady entered the room with a harp in hand, ready to educate all of us. I realized that in my selfishness I had forgotten to introduce myself to Tessa and the other girls.
For the next few days I traveled from class to class, feeding my mind with the knowledge of the Earth Mother, the awareness within me. I often hungered for more, especially knowledge of past lives and what was happening outside of Avalon. I would hear about the constant raids of Saxon armies, as well as stories about how the king-making and other rituals came about and the order of events within those rituals. I had become so keen in learning that I would sometimes manage to filch a scrying bowl from the hall and run off to the mirror pool, which I knew my way to now. I would cup my hands to drink some of the cool, refreshing water, and then fill the bowl with the clear liquid. Using my increased power, I would summon my Sight, in order to glimpse the activity of the outside Britain, of my brother, Lancelot, and his love for horses and weaponry. I would sit there through the night, numb, but content.
On a cool, breezy night, when the Goddess almost drew her whole face behind the veil of darkness, I ran with a scrying bowl to the mirror pool. I completed my same routine that I had repeated almost every night, when I began to think of how I had come to Avalon. I remembered Morgaine's kind, serene face, when suddenly I wondered what had become of her. In a mixture of haste and worry, I filled the scrying bowl and invoked the Goddess. At first, all I could see was my own reflection and the blue crescent on my forehead, but eventually the features shifted into those of a young man, the same golden-haired youth I had seen the day I had shattered the mirror pool's surface. He held a blood covered spear in his hand and his face looked drunk with the blood spread across his lips. The water began to ripple, and the visions I could see began to move extremely fast. I saw a maiden covered in blue paint, who I recognized as Morgaine. The visions moved still faster and I could see a child, a dark child. The boy grinned evilly, unsheathing a sword at his side which suddenly seemed to cut through the scrying bowl in a rush of black metal. The image blurred and the bowl broke in two, resounding with the echo of evil laughter. The water immediately thickened into a red liquid, and from the musty scent filling the air I recognized it as blood. I jumped away, horrified as the blood spilled across the smooth stone walkway of the Tor. I screamed frightfully, unable to control myself, and scurried down the large hill, incapable of catching my breath. I had full knowledge of the vision; I had unlocked its mystery easily. Unknowing of my destination, I fled from the sight of Avalon, of the Tor, of the Goddess Herself, all the while haunted by the deathly laugh of the dark child in the vision.
Through the mists I dashed, sometimes faltering, sometimes my legs carrying me swiftly through the dark. Visions filled the cursed path I walked upon, blurry but colorful, like the near future that they shaped. Moods flung themselves into the sights, eerie and magnificent. An arm clothed in white samite brandished a large, jeweled sword, which all of a sudden flew into an armor-protected arm. It was soon joined by a host of swords, held high in victory. A glowing cup was shown, brightening each vision. The happiness was remarkable, marvelous, one that I would never experience but in my visions. However, such would be destroyed by the haunting laugh, the black sword, the dark child. It tore a hole in my heart, knowing that the only happiness I would ever accept was not to be eternal. I swooned and collapsed, yielding to exhaustion, allowing the earth's cool body to connect with my own.
I awoke from my daze in a wood blooming with trees of every shade and hue. Dew stained my crumpled blue robe, as I rose stiffly, surveying my surroundings warily. My stomach churned desperately as I slowly realized that I was not in Avalon, but in…some other land I could not name. I frowned between my brows while walking every possible way out of the dense forest I had been caught in, but finding myself only deeper into the trees. I looked around, scared, alone. Alone…not so alone…for I felt that I could see somebody. I darted my head around, surveying the thick foliage, inhaling deeply. I could see a shadow, standing beside my own, then having left without a trace. I jumped when a shoulder scraped past mine, and a woman stepped in front of me, face stern, observing me from head to toe. I smiled fearfully upon the middle-aged lady, somehow recognizing her simple, but ripe beauty, yet assuring myself that I had never met her.
"My lady, I am sorry. Are…are we in Avalon?" I asked, choking madly over the straightforward statement.
"No, my child, we do not stand in the land of the Druids. Young Mirouaene, you have ventured far deeper into the mists, to the land of the Faery. Ours is the land of the mysteries, where people are learned in magic and writing, future-seeing and such." The lady spoke in a deep, echoing voice that sent a chill through my spine, into my bones.
"Is the Faery land not part of Avalon? For the Druidic people are very similar to your kind, for we are skilled in the arts and educated by bards and priestesses in the House of Maidens. Priestesses are exceptionally skilled in the Sight, and we can see what is happening in different parts of the world and into the near future." I said, feeling more confident and relaxed. However, I marveled at how she, like Morgaine, knew my name.
"No, our land is past the mists, into the forested kingdoms. I saw you resting late in the night, disheveled and bedraggled. How is it with you?" She asked calmly, smoothing my hair.
I searched my memory for the night before, remembering the evil laugh, the rough, black blade slicing deftly through the scrying bowl. I shivered when I remembered the blood, pouring, flowing in little rivulets.
"Mirouaene?" The faery woman inquired, raising her eyebrows.
"My lady, please…I was scared half to death…" I stammered, not knowing what words would come out of my mouth.
"Tell me child, what was the worry about?" The woman smiled, her long, silky hair shimmering in the dim light. Somehow, I could see a resemblance between her and me.
"Lady…I saw it…the end…clearly. I saw the beginning as well…the climax…but the end…the end…horrific…" I spoke, panting while recollecting the visions full of their mysteries, their solvable mysteries.
"What did you see? Please tell me. I will help you."
"The splendor…the beauty. A new monarch is being assigned to the throne following the ceremony of the Hunter and Huntress. Viviane has offered the position of the Huntress to sister Morgaine, and…and…" I shivered. "The hunter is her brother…son of Uther Pendragon, the former ruler of all Britain. Viviane…the wicked lady…she brought shame, sorrow, disaster, upon us…for no reason that I have heard. I have seen the uniting of the two…not brother and sister, but man and woman. I saw it…clearly…in the scrying bowl…we must prevent them from getting together! Tragedy, ruin, catastrophe, is the seed planted in the womb of my dear Morgaine. The son of the King Stag…the Dark Son…who will end the days of glory, success, and triumph. I could envision the whole reign of the future king…Arthur…I could see his Companions, many of them, trustworthy Companions. I saw my brother Lancelot among them, I saw him embark on adventures, keep his vigil. I saw his virtue, as well as his sin. I saw the Queen…the Queen who loves, yet hates her King. I saw…everything. But…but it will end…sadly…the only happiness for Avalon…the only happiness for me." I shook, half sobbing.
"Oh my dear, there is nothing we can do about it now. The king-making is in Viviane's hands, and we must not meddle with her affairs. She only tries to help Avalon, though she will not succeed, and instead damage it. Yes, I know what you know, though it may not seem so. However, we…I do have control over Morgaine's child. I mean, I do not as yet, but I will. I can raise her child; I can ease Morgaine's tortured soul and mind."
"But how must we summon her to this place? It is nowhere near Avalon, and I do not even know how I came! Oh, what shall we do? Arthur's rule is important to Avalon…by performing in the king-making he gives his loyalty to both Avalon and the woad tribes nearby. It…it is important to our land. In the end…in the end Avalon will be no more…will it? Britain will be no more…I do not think it will." I held my breath, hoping that the lady, with her wits, truly meant what she had just recently said. She darted into the trees, like a nimble dancer, and immediately returned with a handful of large leaves, some as green as the wet grass, some as red as the fiery sun when it sets.
"I will not be able to send for Morgaine without your help, Mirouaene. In the future, you will be vital in the sustaining of Arthurian rule. Though you have just found out about it, there is not much more to learn, and I know you are keen on learning, are you?" She handed me the large leaves which I took to be herbs.
"Yes, yes I am! Now what must I do with these?"
"Morgaine will return when the sun begins to fall asleep. By then, I will instruct you to make a salve from these herbs. When you return to Avalon, you will secretly spread the ointment across Morgaine's forehead as she sleeps. The salve contains instructions that will lead her to my land without her knowing. When she arrives, I will coax her into allowing me to raise her child, therefore, having a job done easily."
I beamed, proud of my participation in such an important act. Suddenly I was reminded that I had no way out of the faery woman's land. "How do I reach Avalon from this place?" I asked, looking all around me. "There is no route back to Avalon!" I was terrified for a moment, knowing that I truly was to be at the House at the time, and that I would be in a severe dilemma if I was to be found roaming around the open land.
"Mirouaene, both the faeries and the priestesses of Avalon have always said, 'find a way or make one'." And with a flick of her fingers and the short strand of grass she was twirling, the forest suddenly parted into a dirt pathway. She grasped me by the shoulder before I had the chance to take off eagerly.
"You must stay with me, in my palace, so we may feast enjoyably while discussing the topic at hand. You may know me as Nuria, queen of the faeries. Come now." I hesitated before scurrying quietly after the faery queen.
