Amongst the Heather

Thunder rumbled over the moor. Clouds roiled. Their darkness extinguished the glow of the sun. From deep within them, lightning flashed, illuminating the figures draped in white as they spun between the standing stones. Wind whipped the flaming hair of the woman who had hidden in a copse of trees to watch the gathered druids dancing amongst the heather.

Their ethereal voices hung in the air as they sang. Candles flickered and the crowns of flowers woven into their hair bobbed as they danced. She knew she shouldn't be here. Knew it was forbidden for an outsider to bear witness to these sacred events. But the lure of seeing something no other person had seen for centuries was too strong. Her scholarly mind raced at what she beheld. Though times had changed, it appeared the modern druids hadn't altered their ancient traditions in the slightest.

She had read about these ceremonies in great detail. Books and drawings had filled her imagination with how this was meant to transpire, but it had absolutely nothing on the real thing. Her breath caught at the beauty of what she was seeing, her eyes were wide as they drank in the druids weaving gracefully between the stones. Not a single dancer stumbled. No one bumped into the stones or each other. There was perfect synchronicity as they moved faster and faster.

Spinning and twirling, their bare feet carried them over the worn heather. Faster and faster they spun. The wind howled, amplifying their voices as they sang in ancient Gaelic. Lightning flashed over head and the thunder crashed with a ferocity she had never heard before. The hairs on her arms stood on end as an electrical charge filled the clearing. A shiver raced down her spine. Outside the stone circle rain began to pour, lashing the ground in waves.

Soon she was soaked, her hair plastered to her forehead and neck as she squinted to observe what happened next. Her vantage point had become obscured by the rain, and she looked around to see if she could move without being caught. There, about ten feet ahead to the left, was a small juniper bush. Thick with leaves, it would do to keep her hidden from sight. Taking a deep breath, she quietly eased from the trees she hid behind. The rain helped muffle her movements as she wove lightly between rocks and heather bushes.

Her hiking boots sunk into the soggy earth as she snuck forward. The absence of the rain was deafening as she stepped up behind the juniper bush. Behind her was a wall of water where the rain fell heavily. Where she stood, and stone circle itself, was completely dry, not a single drop of rain fell, and as she looked to the druids once again, their white dresses still flowed crisply around their ankles as they wove through their dance.

Her mind raced, heart pounded. How could this be? There was no natural phenomenon that she was aware of that would cause a such an occurrence. Her mind jumped to the next cause, as impossible as it seemed. She knew the Druids were once deemed witches, but she thought that was a result of superstition and the heavy influence of religion during an era of terror and uncertainty. Not because magic was real. Not because they were truly witches. She now knew why no one was allowed to bear witness to these events. If they had, they would know that it was not some legend or story or myth. This was real. Their faith and ability to alter the physical world was real.

She should leave. Her mind felt torn in two. The intrinsic human fear of the unknown squeezed at her heart, encouraging her to run from this place. But her academic mind, the one that had spent the last decade studying these women and their craft, held fast. It needed to see where this was going. Were they summoning something? Was it an offering to some long-forgotten God? Or was it something else entirely? For the sake of her sanity, not to mention her research paper, she had to stay and find out more.

A metallic taste filled her mouth as a powerful electric current filled her body. The singing and dancing had built to its climax. The druids were a blur of white as they spun faster and faster. Lightning struck just outside the circle of stillness and she flinched. Dropping to her knees, her hands flew to cover her ears as eight resonating booms echoed through the clearing as the charges hit the earth one after another.

Absolute silence rang in her ears in their wake. There was no sound of rain, nor thunder, no singing or swishing of linen. Just complete silence. Rising from her crouch, the woman gazed around in awe. Behind her the wall of rain had taken on a crystalline appearance, the droplets hung suspended in the air. The druidic women appeared as statues, frozen mid-twirl, not a single hair moved, not even the flames in the candles they bore flickered.

Her heartbeat roared in her ears as she looked around in terror. It was as though the world had frozen and only she was left mobile. All scientific logic and reasoning was thrown out the window. There was no rational explanation for what was happening. But there was a magical one. Whatever the Druids were doing, it must have caused this pause in time. But to what end? Why do all this if you were immobile and couldn't use it?

"I see they have found you at last, Saviour," a lilting feminine voice floated across the clearing. The red haired woman jumped, spinning to face the stones once again. Movement from between the Druids made her stumble backwards. A woman with hair as black as night and skin like porcelain stepped forward. Her floor length, ivory gown flowed around her as she moved, her graceful foot steps muffled in the heather.

"It has been an age since I have seen another of my kind, but events have made it necessary to bring you forth sooner than expected," her voice was soft, calming. The kind of voice you would use on a startled animal, and it took the other woman a moment to realise that it was because as the figure approached, she had been shuffling backwards in shock. "I will not hurt you, Freya."

She froze at the sound of her name on this apparitions lips. She stared, mouth agape as the figure froze a few feet from where she stood. Her kind, amber eyes took Freya in, from her sodden khaki jacket, to muddy jeans and boots. Once she had made her assessment, she smiled. "Perfect," she said.

Freya's reeling mind grasped for answers. What became clear first was the woman's dress, it was in a style like something noble women from the 16th Century wore. It was simple, with long flowing sleeves obscuring her arms, the skirt pleated and pulled in to her waist with a belt. Her long, unbound hair flowed around her like a shawl of ink. Next, was the druidic Triskele symbol that had been artfully embroidered in ivory into the cuffs of her sleeves and around the neck line, almost making it invisible.

"What's perfect?" Freya stammered, still too shocked to fully process what she'd said about a 'Saviour'. "Who are you? What's going on here?" her next questions rushed forth. She needed to make sense of this, but at the moment she was so out of her depth she didn't know where to start.

"Dear Freya," her pale lips twitched into a smile as she spoke. "It is understandable for you to be full of questions, most of us were when we discovered our destinies. It is a part of you that you cannot escape. I wish I had more time to fully explain it to you, but my hold in this world weakens." Gesturing to the frozen Druids behind her she continued, "Our sisters strength is waning, once it breaks I will be returned to the after-world and unable to help you. Choose your questions carefully."

Cool, calming air blew the drying strands of hair from Freya's face, her mind cleared of the jumble of disbelief and confusion enough for her to realise her time was limited and she had a unique chance to gather as much knowledge from this Druid woman as possible. Allowing that thought to ground her in the here and now, she decided to go with the most obvious question first.

"Who are you?" she asked.

A knowing smile answered her, "I am Ciara, High Priestess of the Druids, and Saviour of my time." When she didn't elaborate further, Freya asked the next obvious question.

"What do you mean 'Saviour', and what do you mean 'your time'?"

"The Saviour is the one chosen to drive the darkness from this land. Once every five hundred years, a new Saviour is chosen to bear the ultimate sacrifice and restore the delicate balance between nature and humans. Eradicating the Darkness for another five hundred years to come. If that balance is not kept, demons and beasts will roam these lands once more, and we will have lost this realm to the Darkness for all eternity."

"Sounds delightful," muttered Freya sarcastically.

"You have been chosen from amongst the Druids to stand as our Saviour," Ciara continued, ignoring Freya's comment. "And fight the Darkness that once again threatens the natural balance."

"Wait, what? Me? No. I-I'm just a history major from Trinity College. I'm not a Druid. I just study it!" Freya protested.

Ciara smiled knowingly. "You just picked this topic out of thousands to focus on? What drew you to it?"

"I just did, ok!" she shouted, her voice startlingly loud in the clearing. Reining in her fear and shock, Freya countered more levelly, "I have always had a fascination with the history and mythology surrounding Druids, but I can assure you there was no higher reasoning for my selection. I am a scholar, I study what interests me."

"There may not have been a higher reasoning, Freya, but I can assure you there was a higher power involved here," Ciara replied cryptically. At her words, the frozen Druids came alive. Their voices once again filled the air. Half wound their way from the standing stones to where she and Ciara stood, their dresses flowing around them gracefully. The other half moved through the stones, moving things she could not see.

"It is time child," Ciara said, her regal voice carrying across the sacred space. Two of the Druids, beautiful, young women, took hold of each of Freya's hands and guided her to the towering presence of the stones. Ciara's raised voice echoed from behind her as she followed at the back of the procession, "Our Saviour has been chosen. It is our sacred duty to guide her in her path to banishing the Darkness."

As she got to the edge of the stones, Freya took in the scene before her. A large fallen stone had been decorated with garlands of flowers, an empty space had been left in the centre and candles flickered between the petals. Their sweet scent wafted to her across the damp earth, making her head spin. One of the older ladies approached, still singing their hypnotizing song. In her hands rested a bundle of white cloth. Red thread wove across it and Freya recognized the symbols that it created. The Double Spiral that represented Life and Death; the Triskele that showed how life carried on; and, the most commonly known, Triquetra, which related to the three-fold Goddess - Maiden, Mother, and Crone.

Without warning, the two maidens who held her hands began undressing her. Her protests went unheard as they stripped first her jacket, then thick thermal undershirt, her jeans were a bit harder to remove as she fought to keep them firmly around her waist. A breeze carrying the cloying scents of the flowers from the stone shoved it's way up her nose and her protests died on her lips. Her head spun and vision blurred, and it was all she could do to focus on remaining upright. Her bare toes touching the cold grass startled her back into focus as a shiver raced it's way up her spine.

Goosebumps pebbled her naked skin as the cold air nipped at her exposed flesh. Looking down at her bare body, Freya threw her hands across her intimate areas as her bra and underwear were cut away. The elder Druid holding the fabric moved forward and the two younger girls stepped up to meet her. Unravelling the white material revealed a dress. It was shapeless, with billowing sleeves and a hem that would certainly reach the floor. Sliding it over her head before she could react, they gently took hold of her hands and guided them through the sleeves. The material was warm and heavy on her shivering body, the red thread contrasting vividly on the white fabric, reminding Freya of blood.

"Much better," Ciara said, causing Freya to jump as she appeared at her elbow. She flinched again as she felt a tug on her hair. Spinning around she saw three different young girls, even younger than the last. One bore a basket of flowers, another with two glass vials of what looked like oil, and the last had a mug of some golden liquid. The one with the mug silently lifted the basket, her green eyes quickly alighted on Freya's face before dropping deferentially to the ground.

"Drink," Ciara murmured. "It will help." A hint of bitterness laced her words, though her face betrayed no emotion. Gingerly taking the mug from the girl, she lifted it to her nose, surprised to find the sweet scent of mead greeting her. Taking a sip she savoured the warmth the honeyed liquid provided. She looked around, surprised to find all of the Druidic women had paused to observe her as she continued drinking. Clearly she was expected to finish the mead before they continued to the next step of the welcoming ritual, or whatever it was they were doing.

Once every last drop had been drained, she gently placed the empty cup back in the basket the girl held. The middle one then stepped forward and was met by an elderly woman. Her hands were gnarled and her white hair was wispy and thin. Lines creased her face, and her back was slightly hunched. Despite the years carved into her, her blue eyes were clear and Freya could see the intelligence that hid behind her withered façade. Picking up the first vial, she removed the dropper full of yellow oil and raised it to Freya's face. Placing a single drop in the middle of her forehead, she watched with sharp eyes as it ran down the bridge of her nose and across her lips. When it dripped off the peak of Freya's chin, she place it back in the basket.

Delicately picking up the second vial, whose contents were clear with a faint golden tone to it, she again removed the stopper. Placing the end against Freya's cheek, she squeezed the rubber head and let one drop go. Quickly moving to the other cheek, she repeated the process. The scent of citrus filled the air as the oil swiftly ran from her cheeks and splashed on the collar of her tunic. Lastly, the girl holding the flowers stepped forward and produced a pre-woven crown of beautiful purple, blue, and white flowers. The crone took it from the girl carefully and placed it on Freya's slowly drying hair.

The flowers on her head matched those laid out on the stone behind her, and their scent quickly wound it's way into her head with every breath. She tried to grab onto thoughts as they swirled past. Questions swarmed her mind demanding to know what was happening and why she was letting it. But when she tried to grasp them, they floated just out of reach, dancing away whenever she got close. Mixed with the effects of the mead, her vision swam as they turned her toward the fallen stone. Their singing grew in volume once more and drowned out any other protests she could muster as they gently lead her forward.

They reached the display of flowers in the centre, allowing her to see clearly the shape the flowers made. It appeared to be a silhouette, with a gap in the flowers about halfway down the length. Without a word, a middle-aged woman stepped forward, guiding Freya onto the stone. Pushing her to lay down with a soft hand, she shivered as the cold stone bit into her through the material of her gown. From her prone position she could see the faces of the gathered Druids as they circled the fallen stone. Their hauntingly beautiful song bounced off the standing stones, causing it to echo as if they were in a cathedral.

Ciara appeared at Freya's head, her hands clasped in front of her, obscured by the billowing sleeves of her dress. Behind those gathered in her immediate vision, more swirled and spun as they continued their dance, smoking bundles of herbs in their hands as they blessed the space. The sweet smell of sage floated to Freya over the cloying smell of the flowers she was surrounded in. Her vision swam, growing dark around the edges with each passing word. Over the building voices of the Druids came Ciara's, clear as a bell despite Freya's head feeling as though it was stuffed with cotton wool.

"Sisters, we gather today in this most sacred of places, to bring forth our new Saviour. She has been chosen to rid the Darkness from this world with her selfless sacrifice. Through her devotion to the Old Ways, she alone will stand between the evil of this world, and restore the Natural Order as it should be. We are witnesses to her sacrifice, but first must bestow the gift of the Light, so that she may fight on our behalf, the Darkness lurking within."

Her muddled mind attempted to understand what Ciara had said. Sacrifice? Old Ways? Fighting Darkness? She tried to pull free from the muddled state of her mind, but before she could, a tingling sensation began in her fingers and toes. Creeping its way through her body, it progressed as the Druids voices grew. It was suddenly all she could think about. Her back arched from the table in shock as her body was filled with Light. Pleasure swept through her, her body felt weightless and her mind hummed as her soul shone through.

To an outside eye, she glowed with an inner radiance. Growing brighter, her body rose from the table, levitating with the power of the Light. The gathered Druids gasped in awe, their signing finally trickling into silence as they all watched in amazement at the miracle before them. A smile grew on Freya's face as her head gently lolled back, her crimson hair falling in a curtain beneath her. Slowly, her body returned to the altar, the light within fading once more, yet not disappearing fully. Her striking blue eyes fluttered open, wholly clear and bright once more. No cloudiness or confusion filled them as she gazed up at the stones towering high above.

Sparks danced at her fingertips and the Druids gathered closer, eager to catch a glimpse of their new Saviour. Freya looked around at the awe-filled faces above her. Her body tingled with the after effects of the power of Light filling her. Her mind felt crisp. Clearer than it had ever felt before. For the first time in her life she felt whole. Cleansed. Content. Her past floated away, untethered. Any remorse or regrets she may have had were inconsequential. All that mattered now was the Light. Being the Saviour. Her path was finally clear and she knew what she must do.

A smile graced her lips as she looked into Ciara's unreadable face. "How can I thank you?" she whispered.

"Don't thank me yet child," she responded, her words as expressionless as her face. Ciara's hand came to rest on Freya's shoulder, preventing her from sitting up. Trying again, panic flared in Freya's chest as Ciara's hand held her firmly to the stone altar. Blinking in disbelief, Freya could only stare as shadows seemed to coil from Ciara's ebony hair. A murmur of shock rippled through the gathered Druids as they also noticed.

Her features blanched to an unnatural paleness, her depthless brown eyes became ringed in red and wispy shadows clung to her like a second skin. Ciara grinned, leaning down until her lips brushed against Freya's ear. "It's time for the Darkness to reign supreme, Saviour," she hissed. Her lips trailed along Freya's cheek as she lay immobile in shock, pressing a mocking kiss on the edge of her mouth before pulling away suddenly. The glint of steel flashed as she drove a hidden dagger into Freya's exposed chest.

Crying out at the unexpected pain, Freya stared at the blood that welled around the hilt with wide eyes. With as much viciousness as she had plunged the blade in, Ciara tore it free of Freya's heart. Blood splattered her cruel face as she raised the blade to the sky. Droplets of her life force fell on Freya's face, mingling with the tears that left their salty tracks down her cheeks. Her hands fumbled uselessly at the gaping wound in her chest, her cold hands warmed by the hot blood gushing forth with each weakened pump of her heart.

"The blood of the Saviour shall be our awakening. The Light shall fall, and Darkness will rule once more," her eyes glowed fanatically as she recited some dark, twisted curse;

"Ye beware when Day turns to Night,

When monsters roam and eat the Light.

Darkness rules with wicked delight,

Haunting those who fear its might.

It tests the marrow of thy bones,

Casting away who quivers like stones.

For ye soul the Darkness now owns,

For eternity on darkened Thrones."

Lightening flashed over head and the sun that had started to peek through the heavy cloud cover was smothered once more. The sky darkened before their eyes, turning a deep red through the breaks in the swirling clouds around them. The protective circle around the gathered Druids vanished and the heavy rain regained control as it fell in icy waves as the ladies panicked. Some took off through the heather, hitching their skirts to enable them to run faster. Others remained staring at the Light leaking from their Saviour. Their only hope against the evil in their midst. Dying in front of their very eyes.

A crazed cackle escaped Ciara's throat as she beheld the mayhem around her. A sudden chorus of baying howls raised goosebumps on Freya's already chilled skin. Screams of terror quickly followed. The remaining Druids vanished from Freya's line of sight as she felt the icy rain seep into her bones. More screams of pain followed as dark, hulking shapes tore through the sacred circle. Staring up at the rain falling gently on her face and mingling with her silent tears, she took her last breaths. Freya watched through the growing darkness blurring her vision as Ciara looked down on her once more, and whispered, "Bíodh dorchadas ann."

Let there be Darkness...