Thursday 19 May 2016

The Rockpool from the Tower of Medreil by Lorraine Poulter 2016

 The Rockpool


“Let me see.” SuraAnn said.
“Don’t push.” Miduel said.
“I want to see.” SuraAnn said.
“Don’t we all.” Mira agreed lazily.She was sitting on a rock a little away from them, listening to the departing waves. “The sun is setting.”
“Are you sure you have everything?”SuraAnn said.
Miduel patted his back pack. “All we need is the moon.”
They stepped back from the little pool of water and waited.
Ahead lay the vast expanse of damp sand and rocks that led out to the ebbing sea.
Miduel sat on a rock behind Mira and watched the pale sun sink beneath the watery horizon in a blaze of orange and yellow streaks.
The rocks merged into the sand as darkness fell and soon all they could see was the distant glistening black water still leaving the shore.
He removed a candle from his bag and lit it.
“Look at the stars.” He said gazing upwards. “We should have luck with us tonight.”
 “Do you think they’ll come?” SuraAnn said sitting down beside him. Her long, elegant legs sprawled ahead of her, her naked toes kneaded the damp sand.
She wore a long dress that even in the darkness luminesced with translucency.
“They said they would.” Miduel replied.
His soft features reflected the candlelight. His hazel eyes gleamed and the tenderness of his lips tempted her. He turned to look at her and smiled. Gone were the days when the witches of this world were gruesomely ugly.
“Will there be others like us?” she asked avoiding his gaze.
He said. “Others from all over the world have promised to join with us this night. When the water settles we shall see their faces and to the dimension beyond.”
SuraAnn paused. She wriggled her toes through the sand and then whispered. “Are you afraid?”
Miduel gave a shrug. “I used to be. I have lived this night many times and have been lucky enough to survive each time.”
“But tonight you may not?”
 He shrugged. “Where are the others? Our group is small. It could be too small.”
“Dane and Caris are fearful it might be their turn.” Mira said.
“Fools! They know that no one escapes. When your time is called to an end that is it.No matter where you are. If it is my turn then I shall face it with pride.”
SuraAnn smiled. She liked to see his eyes flash with anger and, dare she think, passion. “You are ready?”
“As always.” He said with a grin.
He went over to the Rockpool. The candle flickered as the cool breeze whipped round his face asthe impending night brought with it the promise of chill.
The Rockpool’sbrackish water was still as glass, holding a depth unseen during the hours of day.
Miduel stared into its blackness; all too aware that from deep within challenginge yes stared back at him.
“Mira.SuraAnn.” He called.
“I know.” SuraAnn replied.
“The moon is beyond the cliff top. It’s nearly here.” Mira said excitedly. Her youthful pale face framed with black hair and oval black eyes told of unbidden truths. She was the youngest of the trio, of the coven. Yet coursing through her veins were filings of steel, of fierce courage, and the blood of sacrifices past. She had seen more of the dead, the undead, kept the company of demons.More than Miduel and SuraAnn had seen together.
Maybe tonight it was her turn?
Miduel removed seven more candles and placed them on the rocks around the edge of the pool.
He flicked his lighter and soon all eight candles were aglow and shimmered. Eight marked the Powers of Night bestowed on Shua; the eight hours of sleep; the eight hours of nightly darkness.
“Almost there.” He breathed.
Over the edge of the water, glimmering on the navy rippling waves,Shua made her first tentative appearance. A round, pockmarked moon grey-white.A mere stone held in the night heavens.
 That chill pierced his heart.It was the first time Miduel looked upon the moon as less than friendly. It was the first time he felt the draw of the tides pull him down towards the watery depths and into the desperate unknown.
He was sure that tonight it was his turn.
Mira and SuraAnn stood behind him.
His fist tightened as the slow, steady the moon moved across the water, water so still, so calm.
She called out to the essence of his soul.
He felt a shiver; a footfall had stepped on his grave,
A salty coldness sent an ache through the marrow of his bones.
She was near.
And then, oh so majestically,
Amid the reflection of the ring of candles in the Rockpool,the face of the demanding Moon Goddess settled. It was time.

©️Lorraine Poulter 2016









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