"This water will not be easy to cross," Lotar said with a puzzled frown. "It never stays still for long enough."
Zena opened her eyes again. "We will sleep here tonight and think more in the morning. Perhaps by then I will remember more," she said, unable to rid herself of a nagging feeling that there was something the Mother had shown her that would help, if only she could see it.
Sleep did not come easily. The moon was full, and the moving water made a ceaseless clamor that soothed Zena in one way but made her anxious in another, because it did not let her forget that she had brought her people here, the Mother's people, and she must not let them down, not now when they were so close. She fell asleep finally but woke again a few hours later, in the middle of the night.
She sat up and stretched. Her arms froze in the middle of the gesture. "Torlan," she whispered urgently. "Torlan, look!"
He sat up groggily. "Look at what?"
"The water," Zena said. "The water has gone. We can walk to our new home. Torlan, we can walk!"
Torlan stood and saw that it was so. The water that had come almost to the base of the plateau had receded, and now there was a clear path of sand between this land and the land that held the standing stones. It gleamed in the moonlight, showing them the way to their new home.
"I think the water goes back and forth many times," Zena whispered. "Sometimes we can go across, at other times we cannot. That is what the Mother was trying to show me when the water kept coming forward and then going back."
Aroused by the whispers, Lotar awoke and sat up abruptly. When he saw what Zena and Torlan had seen, he let out a great cheer that woke everyone, though the smaller children quickly fell back to sleep.
"Perhaps we should go now," Marita suggested. "We are already awake, and the moon is bright."
And so it was that they set out by moonlight for their new home, carrying the sleeping children. Each grain of sand sparkled under their feet, on the crest of each wave danced brilliant bits of light. Before them the path was clear and wide, luminous in the bright moonlight. Zena gazed at the sight, her heart filled with a joy so deep she found it almost hard to breathe.
Behind them came the other groups of Mother People. On and on the line of travelers came, walking toward the home that waited for them. And then they were there, facing the great gleaming stones. Without a word, they laid the sleeping children down in the soft grasses, then joined hands and slowly formed a circle around the stones.
Torlan carried Zena to the center of the circle. She raised her arms to the sky, to the stones, and spoke words, words that later she could never remember. They poured from her lips in a torrent of love and gratitude that came not just from her but from all the wise ones, all the Mother People who had ever lived, from every creature, large and small, that inhabited the Mother's earth. Together, they thanked the Goddess for all She had given them and assured Her of their enduring faith. The others added their voices in a chorus of gratitude and love that filled the air. When all the voices were finally stilled, they dropped down beside the children and slept.
In the days that followed, as they explored their new home, they found abundance beyond anything they had imagined. From the great water came clams and mussels and crabs, and fish of many kinds. The forests abounded with game, bushes and trees were full of berries and fruits, grains came from the fields and meadows. At first, they had worried about water, because the water by the shores was too salty to drink, but they soon found streams and a long, finger-shaped lake, where still more fish lurked and many animals came to drink. To Lilan's unending joy, there were even caves, deep inside the pale cliffs. She went there almost every day, sometimes with Torlan, at other times with two of her children, who were also talented at painting. But the most important task for all of them was to clear a path around and between the standing stones, so that when the time was right, they could perform the ceremony Zena had envisioned.
Soon, more Mother People began to arrive. The older children were sent to greet them and show them how to cross the sand each time the water receded, as it did at regular intervals. After two cycles of the moon had passed, and they thought that all the Mother People tribes had come, Zena performed the ceremony, exactly as she had seen it in her vision from the clouds above. This time, Torlan held her in his arms as she led the long line of worshippers around and between the great stones on the smooth path they had cleared. In and out they wound, so unified in purpose and belief that they seemed not to be many people but a single living creature made up of many hearts, many limbs, that moved together as one. Zena could feel their unity, see it, as if she were once again above them in the soft clouds even as she was here, on the ground, speaking words of thanks and celebration. Over and over, she led them through the intricate, graceful pattern; then, in the long, rippling movement she had seen in her vision, they formed a huge circle around the standing stones. Their hands were clasped before them in a gesture of respect, and there was reverence in all the faces.
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Later that night, the first contraction pushed through Zena's body. She smiled in welcome, glad that the baby had chosen this perfect time to come, then she gasped as another followed. Soon the wrenching spasms were coming hard and fast, and by morning, to everyone's surprise, two infants had emerged, both girls. The first-born was dark and lusty, and screamed in protest as soon as she had taken her first breath. The second-born was small and frail, with hair so light it could hardly be seen. Lilan and Marita worried because she made not a sound, only peered up at them with inquiring eyes when first she saw the light of day. They decided to call both children Zena, concerned lest only the first survive; concerned, too, about Zena herself, who was tired and weak for a long time after the birth. But both Zena and her second daughter were stronger than they looked, and as the months passed and both thrived, the others ceased to worry.
They decided then to call the first daughter Zena-of-the-earth, the second, Zena-of-the-sky. The names suited. Zena-of-the-earth began to explore the land around her as soon as she could crawl, and she never stopped after that. She wanted to see and understand every creature that crawled or flew or swam, and kept everyone busy watching to see that she did not harm herself. Zena-of-the sky, like her mother, lived more in her mind, her imagination. Visions came to her even in childhood, and so did understanding. She was like the moon, people said, still and pale and full of luminosity, while her sister was filled with the power and energy of the sun that warmed the earth she loved.
The other Mother People groups stayed nearby for a time, to welcome the new Zenas, to commune and celebrate together; then as their numbers grew, they gradually dispersed. Some went further east into a long peninsula beyond the stones, others went north and south along the great sea, or inland to the fertile plains they had crossed. Still others set out across the water in boats they built from hollowed logs, to the many islands that dotted the area. But none went too far, for they knew that twice each year, without fail, they would return to the standing stones to perform the ceremony in the sacred place the Goddess had given them. Always, they came at the same time, on the day when the sun stayed longest in the sky, and then once more, on the day when the sun sank earliest behind the horizon.
Each time they came, Zena remembered why the Goddess had brought them here. "The violence has gone from our lives now, but one day it will come again," she reminded the people. "This we have always known. That is why, from this time on, the Mother People must always gather as we are gathering now - not just here, but in many sacred places as the years pass. Only by strengthening our bonds with each other, renewing our faith in the Goddess as we do today, can we keep the ways of the Mother alive in the years to come. To gather together in worship and celebration will be our defense, our salvation."
For many years, Zena conducted the ceremonies; when she became too frail, her daughters performed them for her, with Torlan helping, as he had always helped Zena. And when the time came for Zena to return to th
e Mother, she was content. She had lived long enough to see her daughters almost grown, she told Torlan, and that was more than she had ever expected. Now, the thought of joining the Goddess in the endless circles of the sky she had always loved brought only happiness.
Strangely, not long after her death, another stone, a small one, with a particularly beautiful shape, like that of a bird, some said, emerged from the earth during a great storm that took more earth away. It stood in the midst of the other stones, and whenever they saw it, the people thought of Zena, remembered how this fragile woman who could not walk had led them to their new home, how she had grown from the child who tried so hard to the wise one who had saved them from the evil that threatened them, how she had advised and counseled and loved them, and led them in their ceremonies, for all the years they had lived in this sacred place of the tall, standing stones.
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As the years passed, the great sheets of ice slowly melted. The water rose then, lapping at the shores of the peninsula where Zena's descendants made their home, until one day it covered the land bridge on which they had crossed and never retreated again. Further and further the water came, until finally all that was left of the sacred place the Mother People had called home were a few islands dotted in the sea, the Mediterranean, as it came to be called. As the sea encroached, the Mother People left their ancestral home for islands that rose higher above the water, for the fertile shores surrounding the great sea, for the mountains that rose beyond them, where the ice was fast disappearing. The paintings they had created in the deep caves disappeared beneath the waves, and so did the standing stones. Perhaps by now they have succumbed to the relentless abrasion of water, though if someone could go deep enough they might still be seen, gathered around the smallest stone, the one shaped like a bird that rose from the land to honor Zena.
Though they had lost these stones, the Mother People took their legacy into the new lands where they made their homes. Everywhere they went they searched for tall stones, or mountains with peaks that were like the great stones they had known. When they could not find them made by the Mother Herself, they learned to create them. They are still found in many places, some small and unremarkable but still mysterious and haunting to those who come across them, others so huge that even today no one can comprehend how they were transported and raised. We may never know, for the hands that performed this monumental task and the minds that held the knowledge are gone now. Only the standing stones remain, magnificent testaments to the enduring faith of the Mother People, who for so long lived in peace with each other and with the earth that sustained them.
Notes from the author, Joan Dahr Lambert
I hope you enjoyed CIRCLES IN THE SKY. ICE BURIAL, Book Three In the Mother People Series, is now available and has received stellar reviews. Here is a selection
Reviews of ICE BURIAL: A Five Thousand Year Old Murder Mystery
this book had me sniffling and wiping my eyes....what a beautiful love story.....highly recommended . a very good read indeed
Great background story to help understand how this mystery could have come about. Story has many twists and turns unraveling the mystery of what may have led up to the "Ice Burial."
I was so into this book that I cried. And then I cried again as I tried to explain why I cried. This was a wonderful story and it would make a wonderful script for a movie too. This could have been the way the iceman ended up where we found him on his mountain under the ice. Well done!!
This book intrigued me from the beginning although I suspected the end but won't tell you. It is well worth reading. The characters were interesting and the author has a good imagination. Altogether, I would recommend it as a good story imagined in prehistoric times.
A very good spin on a historical find. Good mix of fact and fiction. Easy reading and very entertaining as well.
5.0 out of 5 stars cry reading, July 30, 2013
5.0 out of 5 stars One Answer to the Mystery, May 10, 2013
Couldn’t wait to finish..Wish there were more..Great reading..Read all in the series..You will enjoy it..Start with the first in the series
Several good subplots within the main story. You come to understand the characters well. Hard to put down. Well worth it.
Great Read--But I Wanted More!
Joan Dahr Lambert is also the author of four light-hearted mysteries:
WAKING INTO MURDER
WADING INTO MURDER
SKIIING INTO MURDER
FORGOTTEN SISTER
or
Tripping into murder
CIRCLES IN THE SKY (The Mother People Series Book 2) Page 26