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Stone Guardian

  Iris Versluis

  Copyright 2015 Iris Versluis

  Translated from the original “Steenbeschermster”

  Edited by: Maria DeBruin DeSanto

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  Stone Guardian

  Sila gasped when the standing stones came into sight. She had seen them many times before, but the upright giants that marked the ritual route to the circle impressed her every time. Silently they stood there, black figures against a sky that was painted red by the setting sun. A gust of wind stroked her arm and played with the fabric of her gown. She shivered. She wasn’t sure if the shiver was caused by the coolness in the air or by the cries of pain and fear in the distance.

  “How are you feeling?” Brea had picked up her pace and was now walking next to Sila. The wise old woman smiled at her. Her braids were interwoven with the silver of the moon.

  Sila sighed, “I don’t know. I feel proud, afraid, nervous and happy all at the same time.” She looked up to the old woman. “I’m very excited for Ava and so proud of her. But I’m also afraid of losing her; she is my big sister after all.”

  Brea stroked Sila’s hair. “I completely understand. I felt exactly the same way forty years ago.” She chuckled. “By the Goddess, forty years already, I am getting old.”

  “Have you been in contact with your sister today?” Sila asked.

  “We are connected every day, Sila. That is the privilege you have when you are the sister of a Cireara.” replied Brea.

  Sila asked “Can you talk with each other?”

  “Not really, it’s not like talking, it is…” Brea paused. “You’ll have to experience that yourself. I’d better go back to my place in the procession, before Fara notices that I moved ahead of the line. Save your questions for later.”

  Sila walked alone. Her mother and Ava walked a few paces in front of her. Before them walked Fara, the high priestess. In the distance a man approached.

  “Dad!” cried Sila when she recognized her father. The wolf skin that was draped around his shoulders was covered in blood.

  “How are you?” asked Sila’s worried mother.

  Panting he replied, “There are more of them than ever before, but we are holding our ground. The ritual can proceed.”

  “Good,” said Sila’s mother, the tension still noticeable in her voice. “Let’s proceed then.”

  Sila’s dad put his hand on her mother’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. It was a similar gesture he had made last night, when Sila had listened in on her parent’s conversation. Ava was with the high priestess and they had sent Sila to bed early. She laid in bed feeling restless and wide awake for hours, eventually slipping outside to relieve herself. It was then that she had seen her mom and dad sitting outside and overheard what they were saying. Her mother cried and had said that she did not want her daughter to go to the Cireara. Dad had put his arm around mom and said she should be happy for Ava. Their eldest daughter was chosen to perform the most holy task for the Cireara. Especially now, with the yellow haired attacking again and again it was of the utmost importance that the stones be protected.

  Sila’s stomach flinched by the thought of those barbarians her dad and men of the village would have to fight. The yellow haired wanted to take their land and wanted to use the standing stones to build houses. Again she heard cries in the distance. Silently, she prayed to the Goddess and asked for her protection.

  The voice of her dad pulled Sila out of her musings. Father turned to his eldest daughter and said “I have some more good news. Litu has allowed me to attend the ritual. Only when things get really bad, he will send someone for me.”

  “Really?” Ava beamed. Her hands that she held tightly clutched together, relaxed a little. “That’s great, Dad.”

  Their father smiled. “You do know that I have to keep my distance.”

  “I know,” she replied. “But it strengthens me to know that the four of us will be together one last time.”

  The high priestess walked towards them, although walking was not really the right word. Fara seemed to float in her deep blue robe. Her black hair lay around her head in a complicated wicker of dozens of braids. Fara’s light blue eyes seemed to look right through Sila. The young girl lowered her eyes respectfully.

  “Ava,” said Fara with the low, deep voice of a high priestess. “It is time to make your choice. Are you willing to join the Cireara?”

  “Yes, I am,” answered Ava. Sila could hear the tremble in the voice of her big sister. As discretely as possible, she took Ava’s hand. It was cold, clammy and trembled like a leaf in the wind. Sila squeezed it encouragingly.

  Fara put her hand on Ava’s head and the other on her heart. “Then you will be blessed my daughter. Walk the road that many of our ancestors have set foot on before, speak the words spoken by the first Cireara, and dance in the footsteps of the brave, young women that went before you. Lead the way, my daughter, for today I am nothing more than a humble servant of the Cireara.”

  Two priestesses walked forward from the procession. Sila could see that they were young as they wore only three braids, only two more than Sila. One of them bore a torch, the other a can with oil. Ava held out her burning stone, a bowl made from a hollowed out stone. Her hand was still shaking violently. “Not too full,” she said with a crooked smile. The priestess poured a little of the oil in the bowl, after which the other lit it with the torch. Sila did not yet have a bowl: she would get it after she had completed her priestess training and that would take many more years. The priestesses walked to the other women in the procession and soon the lights lit up as stars on a clear night.

  “You have to let go of my hand now,” whispered Ava.

  Sila looked up to her big sister. Ava smiled her big sister smile. It was the same smile she gave Sila when she had fallen or had to cry, or when she came to give her a kiss for the night.

  “No,” whispered Sila, her throat suddenly sore from tears. The realization that she would never see her big sister again, hit her like a rock. She tightened her grip around Ava’s hand.

  “Sila,” Ava kneeled before her. Sila quickly wiped away a tear that had escaped. “I will always be with you. If you miss me, go to the stone of Buwch. You will feel my embrace there.”

  “But I will never see you again,” sniffled Sila. Brea had also said that her sister would still be with her, but it would never again be as it was now.

  A cry sounded in the distance, it made Sila shiver.

  “If the child cannot control herself, we will have to continue the ritual without her.” The voice of the high priestess was cold and hard. “Our men are in a fight to the death, we cannot linger.”

  Sila let go of Ava’s hand. She took a deep breath and felt the earth under her feet, the power of the stones that vibrated in the air, and the wind that dried her tear stained cheeks. “I love you,” she said in a husked voice.

  “And I love you, little sister,” replied Ava. “I need you, Sila, please stay.”

  Sila straightened her back and swallowed her last tears. “I will be strong.”

  Ava pinched her cheek. “That’s my sister.” She stepped forward and raised her voice. “Follow me priestesses of the Goddess, the Cireara await our arrival.” She stretched out the hand in which she hel
d the burning stone. With the other hand she grabbed her wrist so it would shake less.

  Together with her mother, Sila followed her on a respectful distance of five paces. The light purple of Ava’s dress could only be discerned with difficulty in the dusk. Purple was also the color that the Cireara would give her sister. Sila had helped Ava when painting the fabric. First they had gathered blue and red berries, which they had grinded to a purple paste in which they had covered Ava’s dress.

  They had reached the top of the hill. A shallow descent would take them to the middle of the circle. The night was clear and the Goddess appeared round and full on the horizon. The standing stones were big and dark in the light of the moon, but they did not instill fear in Sila. The stones were their eternal connection to the Goddess. As long as the stones stood upright, the Goddess would grant them protection, fertile soil, and healthy children.

  Ava reached the middle of the circle and waited there till the other women had gathered around her.

  “Daughters of the Goddess,” Ava said with a raised voice. “The moon, the face of our Goddess, has just ascended above Arbeon, the biggest stone in the circle. Welcome her blessing light and let her strength flow into you. Only today she is strong enough to bring about the birth of a new Cireara. She will guide me on my journey, but I need your help also. Will you help complete my task?”

  “Yes!” They cried