Crossroads

 

Twenty minutes into our journey there had been absolutely no conservation, eye contact or attempt to reconcile our differences. It was a lovely morning, sunny with a slight breeze and a gentle rustling of leaves to accompany nature’s orchestration of bird song and cicadas. We walked at a reasonable pace and managed to cover three miles in pretty quick time – which would normally have been cause for joint self-congratulatory celebrations. There was no such celebration but we slowed down and looked for a patch of grass amidst the trees in order to lean against the trunks and relax in the mosaic of dappled shade. Mule decided to wander off because he sensed there was a creek nearby where he would be able to drink litres of fresh, icy cold water and cool off his hooves. I followed him, secretly praying his senses were behaving with their usual unerring accuracy and there would be a stream close by. When I heard the gurgling rhythm of water on rocks I flung myself to the ground and used my hands as a cup so that I could drink on and on until my thirst was well and truly quenched. We continued to ignore each other but to be honest it was unpleasant; Mule can be excessively stubborn and to my mind I had done nothing wrong

 

 

When I’d had enough to drink and filled our canteens I dunked my head as far into the stream as possible to get the sleep out of my eyes and enjoy the feel of rushing water on my face. I stayed there for ten minutes and then took a cloth from one of Mule’s backpacks so that I could use it to protect my hands in order to pick the leaves of nettles, safflower and dandelions that grew in abundance in the wood. Once picked I ground them between two rocks before pounding on them with a heavy stick until I’d created a small handful of powder which was more than enough to wash my hair. I harvested more leaves from a variety of bright yellow, orange, deep blue and purple plants that provided a natural if rather astringent cleanser. One year of life in Lemuria had taught me that seemingly every plant I’d ever seen or read about grew there, weeds were not things to be despised and almost everything could be put to good use.

 

Mule had finished his ablutions and thirst quenching well before me and was munching on some thick, green, luscious grass. He’d also spotted an apple tree so heavy with fruit he could chomp them off the branch and further on a gloriously abundant cherry tree plus a few strawberry plants just waiting for someone to come along and pick off their sumptuous berries. There was bread in the pack Mule carried and without saying a word I also took out nuts, a little cheese and some carrots, which I put down where he could reach them easily. I leant against the trunk of a comfortable beech tree and enjoyed quite a feast whilst my hair dried in the sunlight that filtered through the branches. Mule had a number of burrs in his coat, he could not reach them and I made a mental note to comb them out before we continued down the road. I was still cross with him but that was no reason to have him suffer from itching which might lead to infection and pain; I am not that callous and I certainly wasn’t prepared to watch him play the martyr. His tail attachment party popper had more or less dropped off with just a couple of crinkly coloured paper twirls swishing about to remind me of his nocturnal partying with the Chattanooga serpents! It was not even 11am but a combination of warmth, food, clean hair, and the emotional rigours of our furious row had made me very tired so I made a pillow from one of the blankets in our kit, stretched out, closed my eyes and fell into the arms of sweet sleep. I assumed Mule had to be tired and would enjoy the rest but if he preferred to crack on it was too bad – he could practise his dance steps whilst I snoozed.

                                      

                                   *   *   *   *   *                

 

 

“Jan. Jan. Wake up.”

 

I had slept for over two hours and Mule did not think he could leave me to sleep for any longer.

 

“I do hope you have a good reason for waking me Mule, a very good reason, a cast iron, silver plated, twenty four carrot gold diamond encrusted reason – for waking me!”

 

“I believe I have such a reason.”

 

“Okay, spill it.”

 

“I’m leaving you Jan. I’m going back to Duwamish.”

 

It’s difficult to know how to respond when your allocated Mule decides to abandon you to go off on his own journey. It’s one of those moments where both parties look at each other to make sure they’ve got it right, have they heard properly, misconstrued the sentence and understood the significance of what’s been said.

 

“You’ve got burrs in your coat. Would you like me to comb them out before you leave?”

 

“I can find a tree with ripped bark and scrape through my coat.”

 

“I know that Mule, I know you can look after yourself but it will be easier if I do it for you so is it a yes or a no?”

 

“Yes. Thank you. It will be a great help to me.”

 

I was still tired and rather shocked but reached for the comb and went through every inch of hair in long, sweeping movements. Had there been a competition for best-groomed mules he’d have biked it.

 

“All done Mule, you’re good to go.”

 

“I’m sorry Jan. This is not the done thing in Lemuria and I know I will never be allocated to another traveller.”

 

“Oh. What happens to mules that leave their companions on roads they’ve never been down in the middle of nowhere? Shot at dawn? Locked in a shed for the rest of their lives. Banished from the Kingdom?”

 

“No, nothing so extreme. I’ll be retired and put out to grass. I will request to be placed with Darlene…I’m not sure myself if it will be granted…I’ve never done this before.”

 

“It’s a shame for you to be retired if you’re not ready. If you are I’m sure no one will deny you a place at Darlene’s, you’ve been a great servant to Lemuria, loyal, brave and faithful. Who makes these decisions?”

 

“I will report to L’Enchanteur Jan, the Kingdom of Lemuria is hers and in doing this I will have broken with protocol, not kept my oath of allegiance – deserted.”

 

“Well you tell her from me that you have been my greatest and best companion. It’s difficult to travel with some people Mule, I’m difficult, volatile, uncaring, insensitive, demanding – I’d leave me.”

 

We looked at each other and then I filled his pack with apples and the remaining carrots. He looked completely downcast and I knew how much it grieved him to break his oath. I kissed his brow and felt my eyes glisten with tears but I could not, would not, ask him to stay. 

 

“Fare well dear Mule. God speed.”

 

I walked away from him and knew that he had set off on his journey up the Serpentine road and back to Duwamish. My face was frozen and the woods blurred. The time had come for me to decide on my own destiny and if it would be wise to turn back myself – not to Duwamish though or any other Lemurian destination. We all reach crossroads in our lives and with Mule gone I was alone, alone again and deeply troubled.

 

                                                                                             Jan

 

                                                                                   

                                                                                                                                                                                                       

Mnemosyne’s Stream

If there is somewhere you would rest,
it is beside Memory’s molten stream.
William Michaelian

When I left the Ouroboros’ cave, Joey stood waiting for me, a look of inquiry shining in his eyes. “Everything good, Bo? Want to talk?”

“I’m fine, Joey, but I don’t think I want to talk just yet. I need to think before I say anything.”

“Then climb aboard and I’ll give you a ride. I’ll be quiet and you think all you want. Once we reach the valley beyond that hill, I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised and feel quite revived.”

But I was concentrating on other ideas. “Eternity, night and day, completion.” That was my message from Ouroborus. But I didn’t understand. I could only ride along the Serpentine Road and contemplate the serpent underneath the ground. He had been kind, but so mysterious.

Joey and I had been traveling nearly an hour when he turned off the road and followed a narrow path covered with weedy overgrowth. The forest became darker as we moved on, the trees grew closer together, nearly obliterating the trail. Joey picked his way through the dense cover.

“Joey, where are we going? Can you find your way?” I could barely see Joey’s top hat from my perch on his back.

“Yes, Bo. I could walk to our destination blindfolded. I have been here many times. Lie your head upon my neck and rest. I will wake you when we arrive.” I only realized it when he spoke those words, but I was dead tired. I leaned against Joey’s shaggy mane and closed my eyes. I awoke when Joey came to a sudden halt.

The sky was lightening and sunrise would soon streak the sky. The air had taken on a fresh, salty smell and I could hear constant rumbling ahead. “Bo, it’s time. Please get down. We can walk side by side, and come upon the grand sight together. That seems a fair way to proceed.”

The trail was wide in this part of the woods. Evidently someone had taken a scythe to the overgrowth as fallen grasses were lying on the side of the road. Masses of sea daisies and sandwort popped from the sandy earth. I recognized the sound of waves sloshing to and fro as the moon’s gravity pushed and pulled. When I peered through the thinning trees, I caught glance of a large stream, surrounded by grassy stands of sand. Just as there had been a handwritten sign at Ouroboros, another simple sign was tacked to a lone tree near the stream. I slipped on my spectacles and read ‘Steam of Mnemosyne’. Always a puzzle. I couldn’t grasp the message from these cryptic signs.

Joey had advanced to the sandy ground, and whistled when he read the sign. “So we are here!” he brayed with delight. We were lost for a few hours back aways, but that was truly a grand piece of luck. We’ll sit by the Stream of Mnemosyne and enjoy the sunrise. Let’s rest first. I do believe there’s a Red Delicious Apple in my pack which I would love to munch. And rummage deep. Do you see the tomato juice and cheese sandwiches? Those are yours. I admit not breakfast fare, but I daresay you’re hungry enough to eat just about anything.”

Joey, of course, was right. I scarfed down the juice and sandwich in record time, even going so far as to lick the crumbs from my fingers. “What has happened to me? I eat like a savage.”

Joey laughed so heartily, he got the hiccups. They he could control himself, though barely, nodded and replied, “Yes. We are a bit on the wild side, though I anticipate we will be more so at the journey’s end.”

We both found this bit of information quite hysterical, and laughed hanging on to each other for support. Joey in his glee rolled over and over in the sand, and I followed suit. “What a fun time we had together”, I thought. We haven’t laughed so hard since the day Joey found me at the Outpost, the day we were re-united after several long years. “Oh, Joey. I haven’t felt so happy in such a long time.

“Before us is the Stream of Memories. Come gain knowledge from Mnemosyne. She is waiting for you.”

I looked at Joey askance. “How can a stream anticipate my arrival? More tricks up your sleeve?”

“No, Bo. This is legitimate and sponsored by She-Who-Knows-All. Perhaps she has tricks up her sleeve, but I am unaware of such. I am only to direct you to sit on the stream’s bank and dip your burning feet in the cool waters. Perhaps you recognize the name Mnemsyne?

“Why, of course. In addition to being a Goddess in her own right, she was the Mother of the Great Muses. Muses celebrating and encouraging music, dancing, poetry. Others that I can’t recall, but I think they were nine in all.”

“Good girl! Absolutely right! But the Nine Muses represent the Muse of History and Epic Poetry, (Cleo); the Muse of astronomy and astrology, (Urania); the Muse of the Tragedies; (Melpone); Calliope, the Muse of heroic poetry and the head of all the Muses); Euterpe, The Muse of flute playing; Erato, the Muse of lyric poetry; Tepsicone, the Muse of dancing and choral singing; Thalia, Muse of comedies and pastoral poetry; and Polyhymnia, the Muse of music and dance.”

“Joey, I’m truly surprised. How do you know such things?”

“We donkeys are trained in myth and magic.”

“Is that true? You can snap off the nine muses and what they represent? I smell a rotten fish.”

“No, Bo, not a fish, though perhaps a donkey fits that bill. Ahem! All the donkeys are capable of encyclopedic memory. And when that fails, there’s always Google. Tee-hee.”

“Google? As in the search engine Goggle? Never mind, Joey. I don’t think I want to know.”

“Whatever. Now go dip into the stream. I think it will be most eye-opening.”

“Joey, is is eye-opening good or eye-opening bad?”

“Stop procrastinating, Bo. Just go. Think I’ll take a dip myself. Can’t hurt.”

So Joey and I stumbled through the thick grasses and reeds at the river’s side, and reached the Stream of Memories.

“Hey, Joey it’s beautiful. Sparkling clear, lovely rock bottom. Maybe I should take a swim myself?”

“Uh, Bo. I think you should dangle your hands and feet in the water first. Ponder the thoughts that enter your consciousness. Then perhaps a cooling swim if that is still your wish.”

Was I Joey’s leader or was he leading me? He knew a lot about our trip. And obviously Enchanteur trusted Joey more than she did me. I supposed it didn’t matter, as long as we reached the House of Serpents safely. Okay! To the water!”

With Joey’s brown eyes watching me, I pulled off my socks and boots and dipped my feet in the stream. So refreshing, almost tingly. Then I danced my fingers upon the water, occasionally picking up a small pebble and skipping it across the waves. Funny how this stream had waves, but in Lemuria anything can happen and I had grown to expect the unexpected.

I became so relaxed, I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Instead I moved into a state halfway between sleep and awake. Everything was quiet for a while. Then a woman’s gentle voice whispered in my ear. I was in a trance, but I could hear and understand what she said.

“Bo, I am Melpone, the Muse of the Tragedies. Let me speak. Although tragedy does refer to performance art, I like to think it applies to everyday ups and downs, too. I know of your tragedies and can shed light upon your concerns and worries. Would you like for me to continue? Nod your head if this is your intent.”

I nodded.

“Very, very good. You have been dealt much tragedy in the last half-century. You have walked through the fires of calamity and at one time, these feelings conquered you and you were ill for many years. You have risen above your condition through sheer will. You have walked through the fires of calamity and despair and, with courage, you have re-appeared unscathed from your trials. You are very brave, very strong. I recommend you travel the Serpentine Road until its’ final destination. You will re-enforce the skills you have accomplished. This is within your power.” Melpone disappeared and all was silent.

From the highest reeds, emerged a second woman. I could feel the presence of another Muse as she approached me on cat’s feet. “I am Cleo, the Muse of heroes and heroines, epic poetry, and history. Would you like to listen to my words?”

Again, I nodded yes. More self-assured this time.

“So be it. You are a heroine in your own right, but your role of heroine is not complete. You have conquered personal loss and have saved many a lost soul by channeling their energy into constructive art projects for their benefit. You are well thought of in that circle of friends. Yes, they are friends, for your compassion and love transcended barriers and your clients now count you among their friends. It is with pleasure that I commend your work with those less fortunate. Your understanding and acceptance are acts of a heroine. Take my words and believe.” Her words faded and there was quiet. Only the waves lapping at my feet.

Soon a translucent figure came to me, walking lightly on the flowing stream’s water. “I am Erato, the Muse of poetry and lyrical poetry. You are a poet, yes?”

I nodded, though I felt unsure of my answer. Yet, I could not help but nod.

“Your poetry, of which I am aware, is truth-sharing, compassionate, and demonstrates your gifts of self-found strength and your large capacity to love your fellow humankind. Your openness and strength are signs of good spirit dwelling within you. You writing will multiply and bear fruit. You show determination and hard-working skills. Use these gifts wisely.” The Muse walked into the forest cover and disappeared from sight.

A womanly shadow stood by my side. She sat and slid her bare feet into the running water. “Do not mind my audacity at using the stream of memory. I am Polyhymnia, an old woman, the eldest of the Nine Muses. I am the final muse you shall meet this morning. Do you wish for me to share my words with you?

This was an easy question by now. “Yes, very much so.”

“I am the Muse of Music. Do you like that alliteration - muse and music? I send melodies to you and watch your response. You are very moved by song, a sign of acceptance of your feelings. As a child, you were thwarted in you determination to play a musical instrument. You were admonished with words of “There’s no money?” “Why do you want music - no one else in the family is musical?” and “You don’t have musical talent and you can’t carry a tune in a bucket.” There were also words of discouragement when you spent your time pursing art. “Stop wasting your time!” and “You can’t make money as a starving artist. Be practical. Put that nonsense out of your head and study a career.”
While these harsh words daunted your creative abilities, you are no longer a child listening to angry parents. You make your own decisions. To pursue a career in the arts is of importance to you. You have never let go of your dreams. It is time to pick up your pen and brush and create. It is time to play sweet melodies with an instrument. One is never to old. Remember my words. You are a creative woman and your art will bring you peace and joy. The Muses must now bid you farewell.”

There was braying in my ear and Joey brushed his soft face against mine. “That picked up your spirits, didn’t it? So what did they say?”

I wanted to share my excitement with my buddy. “Melpone said I was courageous, brave and strong. Cleo called me a heroine and praised my compassion and ability to love one and all. Erato said I was open-minded, determined to succeed in my own way and hard-working. And, oh my, Polyhymnia claimed I was creative. Oh, Joey, is this really true? I feel so inadequate most of the time.”

“The Muses are always correct in their evaluations. Now you must take your special set of skills, and improve on them, accept them, use them.”

“Joey, you are such a brilliant donkey. We make a grand team, don’t we?”

“Yes, Bo, a grand team. And now that you accept your abilities - courage, determination, compassion, and creativity - we shall conquer our enemies, both inner enemies and those from the outside. Success is yours if you use your talents.”

“But Joey…”

“We shall celebrate our journey now, Bo. Just you and me.”

Enchanteur being Enchanteur

Enchanteur, being le Enchanteur, has a habit of sitting around watching others. Here she is, on her chair, on the Serpentine Road, watching as travellers pass by and head along the Ourabous Way.

by Heather Blakey

Streams and Serpents

 George and I plodded along the road, following it up hill and down, around all of its curves and meanderings. I began to notice something consistent about the road, though. There was a spine of rock that seemed to parallel the road no matter where it went. The spine stuck out of a huge ridge that was almost always higher than the road it paralleled.

“George, what’s that rocky ridge that always seems to be beside the road?” I asked.

“Ouroborus.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ouroborus.”

“Geshundheit. Now do you know what that ridge is or not?”

George sighed. I knew he was rolling his eyes, even though I couldn’t see them. “It’s the Ouroborus, She Wolf. You know, the snake that encircles the world, with its tail in its mouth? The great serpent? We are heading for the House of Serpents, you know, on the Serpentine Road.”

“Oh, yeah. Okay. I’ve heard of that before. Is rocky ridge its spine? It sure looks like one.”

“Nope. They say it’s the spine of the world, though, because it runs above the world snake. The Ourobous is underground, under that long hill we’re following. This is one of the places the Ouroborus isn’t deep underground.”

“Oh. That makes sense.”

Yep. I’m glad you noticed it, here, though. You’ll need to meet it shortly.”

Meet it?”

“Yes, meet it. It’s part of your journey to the House of Serpents. Everyone needs to meet the Ouroborus.”

“Oh. Um, George, are you coming with me to meet it?”

“No, I’m not. I don’t need to. I’m George the donkey, not She Wolf the seeker.” George turned off on a small side trail as he spoke. Trotting now, he followed the trail up the ridge that was the back of the Ouroborus and slipped in between two of the spine rocks. They towered above us, ancient pillars of stone, part of the backbone of the world.

We came down into a small grove of trees at the base of the ridge. There was a cave there with a small stream issuing from it. George trundled over to the grove of trees. As soon as we reached it, he said, “Okay, this is it. All off.”

I slid off his back in the shade of the trees and looked around. The little stream babbled over small stones and wound its way through the grove. The cave it came out of wasn’t large, but I could see plenty of room to walk beside the stream. As I started towards it, George stopped me.

I turned around and he was grinning at me. “The stream. Does it look familiar?” he asked.

“No, should it?”

“Well, you’ve seen it before, quite a few mile from here and a lot larger than it is here,” he answered.

I looked at the little brook, babbling happily to itself. The area around it was green and verdant, even as it wandered away from the grove. A suspicion dawned on me. “This isn’t the start of the River of Creativity, is it?”

George nodded and smiled at me as if I were a particularly apt pupil. “One and the same, She Wolf!”

“In that case…” I took off my boots and socks and left them on George’s packs. Then I stepped into the stream. It was cold, but invigorating, not numbing. I splashed up the stream into the cave entrance, where I stopped and turned around. “I’ll be back soon, George. Wait for me here, okay?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be here. Now, just go, would you?”

I smiled at him and turned back to the entrance. Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the cool darkness of the cave and waded ahead.

On either side of me, I could see…things. I saw stars appearing and falling, and seasons rushing past like the wind. I could see colors and taste all manner of things in the air - some nice and some not. Smells assaulted my nose and then caressed it. I could hear songs and laughter and sighs, tears and snarls; they were all snatches of sound, little samples of the whole. Winds, rain and heat ran by me in moments, and then a brief flash of pain that was gone before I could really register it. It seemed like everything - anything anyone could imagine - was rushing past me in those minutes I waded up that stream to the headwaters of the River of Creativity and the head of the Ouroborus.

I rounded a bend in the cave into a lit chamber, and there before me was a glittering cascade of water, pouring down from above. A rainbow hung above the little waterfall. A man in flowing robes that seemed to be one color one moment and another the next sat beside the waterfall, his back to the glistening wall of the cave. I realized that it wasn’t the wall of the cave, though, it was the enormous side of the Ouroborus itself. I stood there, staring at it, until the man spoke.

“You are here to see the Ouroborus.” It was a statement, not a question. Without waiting for an reply, he continued, “Step beneath the waterfall, then, and follow the stairs.” He looked back down at a scroll in his lap and ignored me.

I walked up to the small waterfall and stepped under it. The water was every bit as refreshing as it had been when I swam the larger River of Creativity downstream. I paused underneath it and let it soak me thoroughly and then stepped through to the other side. To one side, a narrow set of stairs carved from crystal quartz and glistening with damp spiraled upwards.

I mounted the stairs carefully, afraid I might slip and fall, but the footing seemed secure for all it was wet quartz. The stairs went up and up and up. Finally, I reached a platform at the top and  paused to look around. This was a small chamber carved into a giant quartz crystal on three sides. The fourth side was the side of the Ouroborus itself, shining green like water on a living leaf, blue like the winter sky, red and yellow like flames. I could see his mouth gripping his tail, making him one huge circle. The waters of creativity seemed to be coming from a slit in his side. Then I looked again, and the slit opened to become a huge circle of colors, a rainbow in a circle, with a black spot in the center - it was his eye! The water flowing from it was made up of his tears.

“But you’re crying!” I said, in a loud whisper. This didn’t seem like the sort of place to shout. “They are your tears!”

“Tears, yes.” I heard in my head. “But not all tears are for sadness and pain. There are tears of laughter and tears of joy as well. Life is made up of all of these. My tears carry a bit of each of these in them. When you create, you feel these and pass them on to those with whom you share your works.”

I placed one hand in the stream coming from his eye and felt the tears falling over them. They were still cool and refreshing, not hot like tears usually are.  They were a little bit of distilled life, pooling in my cupped palm and running out again.

“Drink,” said the voice in my head.

I cupped the other hand under the flow as well, and drank. Then I knelt there for a while, in the wet, with my hand on the side of the Ouroborus, feeling the rhythm of life pulsing beneath his shining scales - beginnings and endings - and listening to the rushing of his tears as they flowed off into the world.

She Wolf (c) 2007

Ouroboros

I was in a grump. As we walked the beginning of the Serpentine Road, Joey contentedly hummed his donkey repertoire while I sulked in silence. I couldn’t shake my dispirited and bleak feelings; they stabbed at my thoughts and I was unable to staunch the bleeding. I was so absorbed in feeling sorry for myself, I ran smack into Joey’s rump as he called a halt.

He turned his head towards me. “Problems, dear Bo? You should stay alert on this journey. Oh, and you won’t bang into me again, will you?”

“Umm. Yes. I mean no. What I really mean is yes to the problems and no to banging into you.”

“Not an eloquent speech, Bo, but I understand what you say.” Joey peered at me through his tortoise-shell eyeglasses, the ones with no lenses. I sensed he saw more than he let on.

“We shall stop at this spot for awhile, Bo. I’m going to munch on that patch of luscious grass. There’s a flask of carrot juice in my pack. Why not have a drink before you look around? And there’s a handful of peanuts in the bottom. Are you hungry?”

The thought of carrot juice and peanuts brightened my visage. My throat was parched and my stomach was empty. I glugged down the carrot juice in three swallows and nearly ate the peanut shells in my haste to chomp on the salty nuts. Feeling a bit revived, I looked at my surroundings more closely. We were in a wide spot in the road, a clearing of sorts. There was, as Joey had already discovered, a snatch of overgrown grass waving above the road and trees fringing the circle of trampled, bare earth. The Northern winds had subsided and a pleasant warmth emanated from the shining sun. There was nothing much to see. Road, sky, trees. That was all.

Joey watched me from the corner of his eye. “Perhaps you should examine the…”

But I interrupted him mid-sentence. “Hey, there’s a sign on that ancient green oak.” I could read the rough lettering from where I stood, thanks to my long-distance spectacles.

“OUROBOROS. It says ouroboros, Joey. What in the name of Enchanteur does that mean?”

“Bo, get involved here!” After that not-so-gentle reprimand, Joey rolled over on his side and yawned. “I’ll be taking a teeny nap, Bo, as the road ahead is uphill. Go study the sign. Maybe you’ll be inspired to do more than mope. Now dear, don’t give me such a look. Just go. But do call me if you need my assistance. I’ll keep my ears pricked high.”

I shrugged. I was weary of fighting Joey at every turn, so I followed his bidding. “Bad funk,” I mused. “Really, really bad funk.” But I grudgingly admitted to myself that Joey’s intuition was often right on target. I dragged my feet as I walked to the sign. ‘Ouroboros’. Now what did that mean? As I moved closer to examine the scrawled writing, the toe of my boot struck a hard surface and I stumbled, landing squarely on my hands and knees. A metallic sound rang in my ears. Surprised, I brushed aside forest debris and discovered a manhole cover upon the wooded ground.

“What the…? A manhole in the woods? Wait! An ouroboros? Is this the ouroboros? Joooeeeyyy?”

But my donkey was happily sleeping, curled up tight with his top hat covering his eyes. I didn’t see any ears pricked high. “Guess I’ll let him rest. Perhaps this is a solo adventure.”

I pulled off my sweater and wiped carefully at the metal plate. An intricate design appeared before my eyes. The detail was breath catching. A serpent wound its way along the circumference, tail in mouth, reminding me of the circle of infinity. A lotus woman sat in the center amidst a depiction of the four seasons. Around that, there was a wide circular band imprinted with birds, clouds and sky, moon, sun and stars. Perhaps the symbols offered a message. But what?

As I intently studied the cover, I noticed a mild depression in the center - a depression in the shape of a hand. Curious, I placed my own hand upon the mark. My hand fit perfectly. I felt a rumble beneath my fingers and heard a mild grating sound. I jumped away, startled. The lid slowly slid open. A hole under the metal cover was pitch black inside, though I could make out a steep stairway of stone by the light of the sun. I glanced back at Joey, but he was still oblivious to the world.

For the first time since the conception of this journey, I was mesmerized. I felt a surge of excitement, of fascination. I knew instinctively that I must descend the steps and see what lay below this magical stone. Grappling in Enchanteur’s bag, I found the candlestick but no matches to light its’ wick. Without thinking, I shoved the candle in my pocket and cautiously descended the steps. As the sunlight disappeared, a small glow emanated from my pocket. The candle had lit itself, a tiny flame throwing off dim light. Just enough that I could see. I was in a deserted cave, maybe eight feet in diameter. As I squinted in the darkness, I saw a pair of glittery emerald eyes staring intently at me. I wasn’t alone. I hurriedly turned to leave, but the opening was closed. There was no escape route.

Then I heard it. “Hisss. Hisssssss. Come to me. Come to me.”

I felt pulled in the direction of a large shadow and trembling, I crept across the cave. As I approached, my candle’s flame was snuffed by a hot breath of air. A florescent-glowing serpent lay before me, loosely coiled with its’ mouth swallowing its’ tail. It rested on a heavy carpet and I vividly saw Egyptian figures snaking in a dance across the edges, moving figures, dancing, waving their arms in gestures of supplication. Again I looked into the serpent’s eyes. This time I could not look away.

“You have come. It is good. A lesssson. I shall teach you.” I shuddered at the idea of a lesson taught by this immense serpent. It noticed my discomfort. “You are ssssafe. I am Ouroborossss.”

Instinctively, I bowed to this beautiful creature. Its’ body was the size of a muscle man’s arm, thrice over. Its’ scales shimmered, like those of a mermaid just surfacing from the sea, and they melded into a dazzling array of metallic rainbow colors.

“Ssssit.” He motioned ever so slightly to a small hassock embroidered with gems - diamonds, rubies, sapphires, and especially, with emeralds the color of the serpent’s eyes. “Lisssten,” it murmured.

I could not help but listen. I was under the enchantment of Ouroboros.

“You are a traveler with Enchanteur.” It was not a question.

I took a deep breath and stammered in a strangled voice. “You…you kn-n-now Enchanteur?”

“Yesss, Bo. I know Enchanteur. Lemuria isss Enchanteur. Enchanteur isss Lemuria.”

“And…and…and you know my name? But how…”

“Yessss, Bo. I know of you. I know of your struggles. I carry a messssage for you. In time, you will underssstand.” He paused, then looking down at the Egyptian dancers he said in a sonorous hiss, “Eternity. Night and day. Completion.”

A headache was creeping behind my eyes, suddenly making concentration difficult. “But…I don’t…”

“In time, Bo. In time. I give you this gold bracelet as a reminder of our conversssation. ” Ouroboros closed its’ eyes. “Go to your donkey. And Bo, be kind. Joey loves you.” Again, I startled as the serpent spoke a familiar name. Then the glow from the serpent faded and a flame lit my candle. By its’ light, I saw the cover to the Serpentine Road was open.

Puzzled, but feeling a serenity I had felt only in a very distant time, I rose out from the cave. Ouroboros had wrapped his gift tightly about my wrist and I could not remove it. The bracelet shone with rows of emeralds, all reminding me of the glint in the serpent’s eyes. I felt his eyes upon me as his words floated with me.

My heart skipping erratically, I went to wake Joey.

Joey’s Intuition — Bah!

I slept awkwardly throughout the night, unaccustomed as I was to resting on a pallet of straw which poked me whenever I turned over. Other travelers appeared nonplussed as they slumbered, enjoying their interludes into the land of dreams. When I finally dropped off into a deep sleep it was nearly four. Within the hour, I awoke with a pounding headache and a stitch in my side.

“How am I ever going to travel the Serpentine Road?” I muttered. “I can’t ride in this condition. Hmm. Perhaps I’ll have to stay back.” I had doubts about this trip. I rolled away from the sun rays shining through the open door and closed my eyes again.

Thump. Thump. Thump. I startled. I didn’t have a headache. I had a donkey butting his head into the back of my head. I didn’t have a stitch. I had a donkey hoof poking me in my ribs. I must admit it was a ‘gentle kick’, but a kick nonetheless.

I was in no mood for a morning frolic with that bossy beast of mine. I was tired and grumpy, but I did open my eyes to glare at my wake-up call donkey. I frowned and squinted into Joey’s fluid brown eyes, but he tossed his head and smiled graciously.

“Breakfast is served under the linden tree. Five minutes flat. It’s quite cool — change in the wind — so better put on your warmer clothes. We have plans to go over before we move on.”

“Joey, everyone’s asleep. Go back outside.” I flung my arm over my face. “We planned to wake up at 7, and I haven’t slept an hour all night. AND I didn’t hear we were to begin traveling today.”

“Don’t you remember? Remember what Madame Viola predicted? Dire consequences if we don’t follow our intuition. Ahem. Especially my intuition. Surely you haven’t forgotten her message?”

“Fine. Okay. Lovely. Grand. I momentarily forgot you were the wonder donkey. Breakfast in five minutes. Let me wash my face and get dressed.”

“Pack all your gear, too, and don’t forget Enchanteur’s bag.”

Before I could protest, he pranced out the door with his tail swishing in rhythm to his steps. Sighing heavily, I dressed in jeans and a tee shirt. Then I threw a sweater over my shoulders and rolled my bedding into my bedroll. My rucksack was still filled with this week’s haul from the Outpost. I pulled on thick wool socks to help protect my sore feet from boots which were not yet broken-in. I was still a tenderfoot, even after previous forays into Lemuria’s back country.

Joey was right about the weather. A northerly wind blew into my face and even the bright sun added little warmth. I could see my breath in the cold air. I shivered and hurried to the linden tree, anticipating a warm fire and a cuppa hot tea. I was sorely disappointed. Joey had picked three tart apples for us to share. He was proud of his find, so I munched my apple without complaint, all the time wishing for a bowl of oatmeal and some steaming Earl Gray.

Still pondering over the emptiness of my stomach, Joey started nudging me again. Why he insisted on using body language when he had perfect ability to speak was beyond my ken. “Joey, stop bumping me,” I said more in a growl than in a genteel conversational tone.

“If you listened, Bo, when I speak to you, I wouldn’t resort to my tried and true method of communication. But your mind, my dear, is skipping about rather erratically, and I haven’t yet connected my mind reading skills with you. You’re being quite a difficult lass to decipher.”

“Oh, Joey. Quit the dramatics. And I don’t want you to read my mind anyway. That’s an invasion of my privacy.”

“Be careful what you demand of me. You would be smart to appreciate any manner of communication between us.”

“Fine! What is so important that you dragged me out into the cold to tell me? It better be good.”

“Bo, if you’d stop snapping at me, I’d love to have a reasonable conversation with you. I must tell you our plans.”

“Exactly what are these plans of ours of which I seem not to know.” My lack of sleep had wiped all civility from my manners, no matter how hard I tried to be pleasant. Evidently, pleasant wasn’t in my morning repertoire.

“Bo, if you can’t be more co-operative, we can begin without discussion about today’s plans. Or perhaps I’ll leave you at the outpost and find a wanderer along the Serpentine Road to accompany me. Surely a stranger would be better company than you at the moment.” Joey’s eyes were flashing with irritation. It was time for me to behave or drop out of the journey.

“I’m sorry, Joey. Really I am. Tell me our plans.”

“You’ve wasted precious time haggling over details. Listen up. I want to leave the Outpost within the half-hour. It is best if we travel off road for a few miles. There is a danger of some sort lurking near the road. Perhaps I can conquer this peril before others pass.”

“Mmm, Joey? Maybe we all should travel together. Safety in numbers and all that jazz.”

“Nonsense. Have you no sense of duty? Just let me adjust my eyeglasses and top hat and we’ll be off. Climb on.”

“You’re making a spectacle of yourself. You draw attention with that get-up. Anyway, shouldn’t we tell the others where we’re going? Warn them?”

“I have been in communication with She Who Knows and all is in order. Stop procrastinating and GET ON!”

“OKAY!” I stamped over to where Joey was standing, impatiently kicking at the earth and sending a cloud of dirt into his face. Pointedly coughing, I mounted Joey with a fair amount of angry flailing. Joey, being a better creature than me, ignored my silent tantrum. He gracefully took off and flew low to the ground until we reached the woods where we had previously visited the Serpentine Circus. How I wished Madame Viola and her crystal ball were still in operation! I could have used a few words of fortune telling and encouragement in this situation. Alas, the grounds were as vacant as when we had hurriedly flown away, several days before.

Joey yelled at me above the wind’s noise. “We’ll land here and walk beside the Serpentine Road for a mile or so. Then we must hide ourselves in the brush and proceed cautiously.”

“Joey, hadn’t I better know what we’re tracking? I can be useful, you know.”

Joey shook his head and snorted with disgust. “It’s best if you only come along for the ride, Bo. At least for the present. I’ll let you know when you will be of use.”

I was getting my fill of Joey’s bossiness. This morning had not been the celebratory beginning of our journey that I had anticipated. Just when I was about to let loose with a string of expletives, Joey swerved quickly into the undercover of the woods. A string of silver arrows shot past us.

“Hide, Bo. And don’t move until I come back for you. No matter what, you hear? Promise me!”

I refused to promise, but I did hide. Then Joey stealthily (as stealthily as a donkey can be) disappeared from my view.

I laid on the ground under a densely spreading bush and tried to steady my breathing, tried not to focus on this turn of events. There were puffy blue berries in the green foliage and I wondered if they were safe to eat. I was thirsty, hungry, and getting more annoyed with each passing moment. Yet all was still.

Then, without any premonition, there was loud shouting and braying in the distance. The sounds of splintering trees and heavy steps filled my ears. Fury boiled in my blood. How dare he dump me instead of letting me be beside him!

But silence came as quickly as the disruption had begun. I shifted my weight under the low hung branches, unaware of the long thorns on the woody support. I yelped as a thorn sliced my forehead open. Then Joey returned to me, looking a bit tired, but unhurt.

“We are safe for now, Bo,” he crowed with satisfaction. Then he took a closer look at me as I climbed from underneath the bush. “What the hell happened to your forehead? I’m the one in the battle and you’re the one with the battle scar.”

“If you had let me help, I wouldn’t have blood dripping down my face.” I put on my my most convincing angry look. “Don’t you ever leave me behind again. I’m not a golden-haired princess who needs protection!”

“Sorry, Bo. You’re right. This is as much your journey as it is mine, but until we reach the first ouroboros, I wanted to be extra careful. Is there anything in Her bag that could help us? Isn’t that what it’s all about?”

“I’m not sure. A candlestick? That’s no good. Dream seeds? I’m supposed to plant them along the Road; I don’t think that’s any help. Hey, the spectacles. Maybe…”

“Give ‘em a try, Bo. See what they do.”

I hooked them over my ears and tried to focus through the blurry lenses. My sight became clear. “Joey, I can see for a mile or so - both the Serpentine Road and the forest. There seems to be nothing up ahead, but no one behind us either. We’re on our own.”

“Great! We can work on your character development before the others catch up.”

“My character development? And what about yours, Mr. Show-Off Donkey?”

“I wouldn’t know about that. Let’s walk, Bo. We’ll be more aware of our surroundings if we move at a slower pace.”

I walked, but I was feeling as stubborn as a mule and I refused to speak to Joey, even when he started sweet-talking me. All we’d done was fight and disagree all morning. He softly brayed an old donkey folk song, while I silently seethed inside. So far, I hadn’t learned a thing on the Serpentine Road.

Only four hours had passed, and I was already ready to quit.

Rainbow Serpent

 

A traveller stops to commune with the beloved Rainbow Serpent and learn more about the House of the Serpents and the Order of the Rainbow Serpent Priestess who rules this house.

 

by Heather Blakey

Charming Enchanteur

Chanty likes to think she can charm the leg off a bed post. Here she is testing out her skills as a snake charmer. She is impossible really! Clearly she has been watching too many charmers on the Serpentine Road. She cannot be left out of anything!
by Heather Blakey July 2007

Snake Charming Oracles

Snake Charmers, like Lilith, who frequent the Serpentine Road are a font of information if you just stop to observe.
Heather Blakey July 07

Snake Oil

 

George and I traveled on through the morning, down the dusty trail that followed the river. This wasn’t the River of Creativity. This was a sluggish, silty stream with smelly, muddy banks which were well churned up by the hooves of oxen pulling barges upstream. I was hot, but the thought of a dip in that stream held no allure for me.

“George, I though you said this was a short cut back over to the Serpentine Road,” I complained. “Some short cut! We’ve been on it since noon yesterday!”

“Quit complaining. You were the one who had to go off the road, all the way to that one little town because the people at Pandora’s Wardrobe said they had alpacas and yarn there. You just couldn’t be satisfied with an alpaca cloak to go with your storyteller’s clothes, oh no. You had to go to the source. Now I  have an extra bag full of yarn on my rump. You, lady, have a little problem with yarn. Just a teeny, tiny problem. And now I am an enabler. Do you know how that makes me feel? I am supposed to guide you and keep you from going astray, help you find your true voice, and what do I do? I let you go off on a side trip, way off the Road, for yarn!”

“Yeah, but it’s alpaca!” I smiled dreamily. “Soft, wonderful alpaca. And the colors! I’d love to know what they used to get that shade of blue…”

“See, there you go again!” George gave a little buck and I came back to the present with a thump - in the middle of the trail on my backside.

As I picked myself up from the dust, I happened to glance into a small grove of trees on the side of the trail. “Hey, George, look over there - a wagon! It looks kind of like one of the ones from the circus! Do you want to go see if it is? We need to stop for lunch, anyway…”
“Sure, why not? Maybe they can tell us how much longer we’re going to be on this trail before it joins back up with the Serpentine Road.” George followed me into the copse of trees.

The wagon was bright red, with gold painted trim, and had little doors on the side which were opened up to display goods for sale. I could see bottles and little tins of stuff on the shelves. I was walking over for a closer look when a man came out of the wagon itself.

“Ah, good day to you! Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it? And what brings you out to such a secluded spot on such a fine day?” The man had about five hundred teeth and they were all showing in a glowing white smile of epic proportions. He had a perfect handlebar moustache and hair so shiny and slick you could see yourself in it. His black suit was a little bit on the shabby side, and the print on his bow tie was a tad too loud. I backed up a little bit. He made me feel a uneasy and just a little dirty.

“Don’t hurry off! I’m Excelsior Smith, Esquire, at your service! As you can see here, I have medicinal goods of all descriptions for sale, and I travel from town to town, helping the populace live the healthiest lives they can!” He smiled again, showing even more teeth, if such a thing were possible.

I backed up some more and then sat down suddenly on a fallen tree as I tripped over it.

“Excellent! You want to see my wares! Let’s see, what sort of goods would you be interested in ….” He turned to the open side of the wagon and began poking at the contents, muttering to himself.

I felt George behind me, pulling at my shirt with his teeth. “Come on, we need to get out of here,” he whispered.

Excelsior Smith turned around at that moment. “What a lovely little donkey you have there!”

George backed up slightly and brayed, his ears laid back and his tail swishing back and forth.

“You, know, I have something special I think you would be interested in - something for someone of discerning taste. Something for the quester, the person seeking something.” He stared at me with piercing eyes. “That would be you, wouldn’t it?”

I don’t know what the man did, but I couldn’t move. I was mesmerized. All I could do was bob my head up and down mindlessly. Somewhere inside of me, I was running away and yelling; I knew this snake oil salesman was bad news. But I just couldn’t move.

As he began his spiel, I sat there and listened, helplessly nodding or shaking my head in all the right places.

His promises were like those of any other snake oil salesman - a bottle of his magic elixir could cure all ailments, solve all problems, and make your life a dream. Dreams, yes, that’s all he was selling, and I knew it.  No doubt something in his secret formula was a narcotic or hallucinogen and would make folks think everything was hunky-dory when in fact it was just the opposite. I knew all this, and probably lots of other folks did, too, which was undoubtedly why he had this little mesmerizing thing worked up. It must have been his eyes, because making eye contact with me was all he had done. I needed to figure out how to break his hold. Meanwhile, he talked eloquently and gestured grandly and smiled stunningly.

As I sat there with my mind racing and my body refusing to obey me, he came to the end of his speech. “Now, isn’t this the most miraculous product you’ve ever heard of? And it does it all, all, with just one dose. Just one dose and you’ll find everything you’ve been looking for, without any of the fuss and bother, without any of the toil and grind! And what is the price for this magical elixir? Why, hardly anything at all, my fine young lady, a mere pittance, almost nothing. Especially considering what this will do for you!” He held up a bottle of dark red liquid, almost the color of blood. A shaft of sunlight streaming through the branches of the trees fell on the bottle, making it glow.

I was fighting myself and managed to keep completely still. I did not want to get caught in this man’s snares. He was worse than any spider.

“Surely you aren’t going to say no, now are you?” He leaned a little closer and I could smell the remains of his lunch on his breath. George brayed again, right next to my ear. I concentrated on George.

He leaned closer still, almost whispering now. “All this magic, in just one bottle, and all for the small price of your donkey. A trade, as it were. Really, when I think what it will cost to feed this beast, you will be getting the best of the bargain - your heart’s desire for a stubborn beast that eats too much.” He stopped, fondling the bottle in his hands right in front of my face.

He may have been able to mesmerize me with just a look, but he could also break the spell with a few ill-chosen words. Trade George!? Never! Fury helped me break free of his hold, and with a yell I tossed my hands up and knocked the bottle from his grasp. It went flying and smashed into a rock, the contents hissing and steaming as they ate into the leafy debris on the ground nearby.

 Excelsior Smith, realizing that his hold on me was broken, gave a cry and ran into his wagon, slamming the door behind him like the coward that he was. I ran for the trail with George following right behind me. I jumped on his back and we galloped away to safety. A few miles later, we slowed down and George said, “That was a close one. I don’t know what sort of magic that man had, but it wasn’t good. He is very, very dangerous!”

“I’ll say. I was fighting with everything I had. It wasn’t until I got mad that I was able to break free of his hold…I’d hate to see what would happen in a town full of unsuspecting and even gullible people! And to try to get his nasty hands on one of Enchanteur’s donkeys!  We need to stop that man somehow.”

“Well,” George smirked, “he won’t be going anywhere for a bit. While he was talking at you, I snuck over and chewed through the ropes holding his horses. Then I led them away. Last I saw, they were on the far side of that muddy mess of a river, heading for parts unknown!” He chuckled.

“Well, that gives us a little time. When we reach the Serpentine Road again, we can let people know what he’s doing. I’m sure Enchanteur could stop him!”

Soon after this, the little trail led away from the water and up into the hills. A few rises later and we could see the Serpentine Road again, sliding away into the distance, and on it, a few donkeys with riders. “At last,” I said. “The Serpentine Road may be hard work, but it’s real, and its rewards are real. They aren’t just snake oil.”

She Wolf (c)2007