The Warden and the Moon Sister: Lament

[Jim Roberts]

[Feb 8 AM -- Symbala]

> “GIT!” Keely exclaimed when the job was complete, waving the hairbrush
> in a way that suddenly reminded the Chief Scout of some of her Big
> Sis’ stories. Silklynx, rather wisely, GOT.

After a hasty climb, a rather breathless Silklynx clambered up onto a
ledge a moderate ways up the western wall of the caldera that protected
the Vale of Symbala. Above the ledge, the wall became more and more
vertical. Climbing higher WAS possible… if you could clamber up sheer
faces like Big Sis, or could draw upon Arcane assistance like Vilma. Or
preferably, both, Vilma’s Arcane Feather Fall ready to save a climber
from an all too possible slip. But this was as far as could be travelled
without undue risk, technical equipment, Arcane magic, or portions of
all of the above.

The ledge itself was something that she’d seen before, several times.
But only from a distance. It was decently sized, able to hold a small
crowd of people. And near its western edge that merged into the
veritable wall of the Vale was one of the many menhirs that were all
over the Symbala Temple complex, and beyond. As a newcomer, Silklynx had
not known much about these standing stones, though to her dim but very
much present Spiritual Sensitivity, she’d always known that there was
more to them than met the eye. And that the Great Star carved on each
was only hinting at their power. Now, after careful study, while their
CORE power was still a mystery, the Chief Scout did have a much stronger
understanding on how these menhirs fit in with the Wards that could
defend the Refuge, as well as the powers that Sisters could call upon on
need.

It was the eastern edge away from the Vale wall that had always occupied
Silklynx’s attention on her past visits to this location, always before
seen from below. The eastern side of the ledge, of course, ended in a
sheer drop. Not, perhaps, falling ALL the way to the Vale floor, but
certainly a good part of the ways down, given that the lower section
curved inwards towards the Vale floor, allowing people to climb up to
her current level without major difficulty.

But it wasn’t the drop that was captivating. It was always the curious
metal bell hanging vertically from its supports, as tall as she was, but
somewhat more slender than what the Tellics went in for in their great
Stone Worship House bell towers. Now, able to see it up closely, she
could see how intricately it had been wrought, or more likely cast; she
knew nothing in particular about metalworking, but even she could see
that it was a finely crafted artwork. And next to it was hanging a stout
horizontal beam, hanging suspended fore and aft to swing into the bell
as a form of external clapper.

And of course, she was not alone. Two Blue clad Initiates were standing
by the beam, and one Vowsister. Ought there not to be a fourth?
Inevitably a young Trainee or Initiate chosen to be the “sacrificial
victim” to have to lead the ceremony in front of the crowd that was
slowly gathering below the ledge?

Oh. Of course. This morning, that was to be HER role.

But immediately, Silklynx noticed some differences in the cast up on the
ledge. Besides herself, of course. Usually the two Senior Initiates at
the beam were some of the stronger girls. And this morning, apparently
Yerusha and Tyrla had been chosen, which made sense. But Vowsister
Neysa, who usually led these ceremonies, was curiously absent. Instead,
the Sisterhood’s Archivist, Vowsister Kenin, had taken Neysa’s place.

“Welcome, young one,” Kenin gently greeted the Chief Scout. “Never mind
apologizing for being late. You are not late, and it is not as if we
cruel Vowsisters gave you much notice.”

“Thank you, Nin’mah,” the Warden replied politely. There still were not
that many people arranged below, as more and more were still making the
climb up from the Vale floor. Eventually, the area below the ledge would
be an almost sea of Blues and Grays, with a few Greens intermixed. But
the scout could see by the position of the sun – or rather its lack –
that there was indeed still time, though not a lot. It was already dawn
up on the rest of the Shadow Mountains, but here in the Vale, the
eastern wall still cast a shadow over the hidden Refuge. For just a
little bit longer. Soon, the sun would peek over the far edge,
illuminating the spot they were standing on… and that would be the cue
for the ceremony to begin.

But they had a few minutes yet, which allowed Silklynx to indulge in her
quiet but always present curiosity, a common trait of those affiliated
with the Great Cat or other aspects of the mystical divinity of
unashamed felinity. “Nin’mah?” Silklynx began. “May I ask…?”

In the pause as the Majali tried to encompass the enormity of her
question, Kenin smiled softly and gently interrupted. “Why now, to what
purpose, and why you?”

“Yes, Nin’mah.”

“Not only may you ask, Ahatki,” Kenin began, “you MUST, so that you may
better do what is about to be asked of you. And the answers to all three
interrelate. The ‘now’ of it is to honour some visitors that have
arrived recently. The ‘what’ is that this morning, we celebrate those
who are very much in YOUR history. All of those who fell to the dragon
dear Satla Deepstone felled, to her cost. As well as to all of those
that she saved and their descendants. Which, of course, includes you.
Which, I hope, explains why you have been chosen to sing today’s ritual.”

“Yes, Nin’mah,” Silklynx agreed somewhat glumly. “But Nin’mah? I have no
training in singing. Dancing, yes, and even a little skill with a
tambourine. But singing? I am worried that I am being in more danger of
angering the spirits, than of honoring them.”

Kenin gave a gentle chuckle. “Few if any of the Little Sisters we task
with taking this lead have any skill relevant to the musical arts. But
all manage, and so shall you. And this morning, I will be singing
counterpoint, and I am confident in my OWN skill that I shall be able to
make both of our voices shine.”

“Thank you, Nin’mah.”

Kenin glanced over at the distant Rim wall, and nodded. “We still have a
few minutes yet, so let me suggest to you an avenue you may wish to
pursue that is not available to our usual Little Sisters still in their
Grays that we often use. Let your mind open, as if you were attempting
the very lightest of a Ziskur trance. And when you are ready, tell me
what you feel.”

Silklynx nodded, and did as she’d been asked. Not sitting crosslegged,
chanting out a hokey mantra; true stillness and connection with the Web
of the Worlds was from within. So she closed her eyes, stilled her mind…
and felt. And one immediate impression had the scout raising her
eyebrows, but then nodding uncomfortably over to where her two fellow
Initiates were waiting near the bell.

“Yerusha and Tyrla are both Sedu’nin,” Kenin said softly, in a voice
designed not to carry to the gathering throng below. “As are you, if
only some of my Sisters were not so insistent on formal ceremonies. You
may speak freely.”

“Yes, Nin’mah,” Silklynx replied. So everyone present were of the hidden
rank of Sedu’nin or higher… and in Kenin’s case, obviously MUCH higher.
That meant that all had been educated on the connection between the
Sisterhood and the Spiritworld, or La’atzu, as the Keerytes called it.
And all had travelled the Moonpaths into the La’atzu, there to meet with
one or more Sedu Lamadu, or spirit mentors. Or, to use a simpler term,
“ghosts of Keerytes Past”.

That allowed Silklynx to state out loud what she could feel… both from
her original training as a Majali Warden, and more recently as a
Keeryte. “The veils between the worlds,” the scout began, “here and the
La’atzu… are being particularly thin. Even moreso than they are in the
rest of Symbala.”

“Well done, Ahatki,” Kenin replied, her voice warm with approval. “There
are other locations that are similarly thin. Atop the Great Pyramid.
That grove that you, Gwelidien, and Alaelia have been using. And others
that I may not disclose. But this is a particularly auspicious place for
those first learning to travel the Moonpaths to use for their journey’s
beginning.”

Silklynx nodded, well able to understand the sense of the Vowsister’s
words. “And,” the Warden added after another moment’s consideration, “we
are not alone. On the Other Side, there are many, many friendly mentors
watching.”

“Well done, Ahatki,” Kenin repeated, somewhat more emphatically this
time. “You are a minor divine caster of your own chosen Greater Spirit,
so of course you have more sensitivity than many of your Sisters. They
may not cross here, nor can or should you try in daylight… but if you
further open your mind to them, they will help you, as much as they can.
And there is something happening now that will aid their efforts.”

“Nin’mah?”

“While still staying in the lightest of your Ziskur trance,” Kenin
suggested, “open your eyes, and look upon the nearby menhir.”

Slowly and carefully, Silklynx did as she’d been asked. The Great Star
on the standing stone was now glowing slightly, but intuitively the
Warden sensed that Kenin was looking for her student to observe
something a bit more subtle than that. And so Silklynx stared, not rapt
in concentration, but rather, with her senses open, trying to perceive
everything that might be happening.

A moment later, her eyes opened wider. “It is at a starpoint of a
Kakkab’mah!” she stated breathlessly, using the Ancient Tongue’s name
for the five pointed Great Star enclosed in a pentagon that adorned so
much of the mystical elements of the Sisterhood.

“The apex point,” Kenin agreed, “or anpa, to use the proper term.”

“Which puts us, bell and all, in the center part or ashtar,” Silklynx
mused. Her eyebrows shot upwards as she realized, “But that puts several
other star points…”

Kenin smiled, not bothering to elaborate. “Not here” would have been a
gross simplification, though it was indeed true that many of the other
key points would have been hanging out in the open air.

“Concentrate on the apex,” Kenin suggested, gently steering her student
away from topics too cumbersome for one new to these Mysteries to
contemplate just yet. “Recall what that particular starpoint symbolizes.”

“Self,” Silkynx stated confidently. “Or more appropriately, Serenity.”

“Which makes here in the ashtar…?”

The Warden nodded confidently, unaware that she was demonstrating that
unlike her Big Sister, she really HAD been paying attention in class.
“Enlightenment,” Silklynx breathed. “Totality.”

“Very, VERY good, Ahatki,” Kenin replied. “Now, continue to feel. No
need to speak aloud to describe the experience; all up here have felt it
before.”

Silklynx nodded, and concentrated. She could swear that she could feel
the protective ward of the Kakkab’mah strengthening… even though nobody
visible was setting the wards. But as the surrounding protection
strengthened, so too was the sense that ever so slightly, she was now in
two worlds at once. The “waking” or “material” world, as her Big Sis
called it… and of course, the La’atzu, or Spirit World. Not physically
in two at once, of course, but psychically… at least just a little.

And that feeling grew as she sensed the growing Ward around the unseen
kakkab’mah build to its completion. Once crafted, Silklynx felt… safe in
the Ward’s center. And now, VERY much not alone. She could not sense
individual spirits… but she was now very aware of their company. Their
supportive company. They KNEW what she was about, and highly approved of
her actions. So much so, that they were willing to help… if she asked.

And ask, Silklynx did. In the material world, all could see the Warden
silently reach out a hand towards the Vowsister, a handclasp that Kenin
softly accepted. What only those with deep spiritual affinity could see
was Silkynx reaching out her OTHER hand. And one would truly have needed
to have been fully into the Spiritworld to see that outreached hand
accepted, not by one, but by many in a manner that turned three
dimensional geometry on its head.

Half of her focus out in The Beyond, Silklynx slowly walked towards the
eastern edge of the ledge, hand in hand with Kenin, walking past the two
Initiates by the beam and the hanging bell. But never was she in any
danger; guardians both material, and possibly Beyond would not let her
walk off into empty space to plunge down into the now teeming throng of
Sisters below.

Silklynx was only vaguely aware of the morning sun peeking over the far
horizon, washing over the little ledge and its occupants. Nor, really,
was she fully aware of the two Initiates behind her heaving on the stout
wooden beam, letting the bell chime with a deep, melodic single ring. A
ring that was then repeated, again and again, each time softer than
before as the beam and bell bounced to meet a few more times.

All of these other sensations were secondary. In her core, Silklynx knew
that this was her time to begin; the bellchime was merely incidental.
Heedless of the numbers of eyes upon her, or of her self confessed
limitations at using her voice as an instrument, Silklynx sang. It was a
simple, wordless pair of notes, one low, one high. Other Trainees often
managed a thin and weedy presentation, and in more objective circles,
Silklynx’s “song” would not have won any awards.

But in that slightly heightened state of perception, Silklynx felt her
two sung notes echo forth, and even grow, possibly borne along by the
well wishes of the assembled spirit mentors. The quality of the notes
were, she understood in this heightened awareness, largely irrelevant.
What was important was their meaning. Two notes, sung by a young teen,
rising in tone, conveying a message of pure hope. Maybe optimistic, and
even naive hope… but hope nonetheless. Because without hope, nothing
else truly mattered.

Kenin’s answering lower pitched, sung reply formed a counterpoint.
Sadness, acknowledgement of suffering and pain. But interwoven with an
adamant core of unrelenting determination. And with her spiritual
guidance, Silklynx joined the Vowsister’s song in a wordless duet. As
the Vowsister had promised, Kenin’s vastly better trained and
experienced voice supported Silklynx’s own, the two voices interweaving
together into a whole that was vastly stronger than their two parts.
Hope… combined with pragmatism. Optimism, combined with experience that
understood that not EVERYTHING went well. That not all battles would be
won… and that sometimes, fighting and losing was better than not
fighting at all. While both honoring the spirits of those who had
fallen… and those who WOULD fall… while Silklynx’s optimistic melody
held fast to the celebration of those who WERE saved. All merging
together in a complex, interweaving duet that lasted all of a few bars.
At the end of which, all of the assembled Sisterhood joined in to the
final few notes, wordlessly singing their own individual agreements to
the message resounding over this corner of the Vale.

And in those closing notes, Silklynx understood something that up until
now she’d been missing. Yes, this was a lamentation. But perhaps
something was missing in the translation from the Ancient Language into
this thrice cursedly limited “Common” tongue that was simply not doing
the ceremony justice. It was MORE than a lamentation; it was also a
celebration. Of the souls that WERE saved… of the bravery and sacrifice
of those who faced what they had to, no matter the cost. As well as, of
course, the sad acknowledgement that not every tale had a Happy Ending.

And then, there was silence… made all the more profound by the intensity
of the music that had existed just moments before.

Silklynx blinked. No longer was she in a heightened state of spiritual
awareness. Her focus was now very much in the Si'ig Kalag, the Ancient
Language term for being fully conscious in the Waking World. A
consciousness that told Silklynx most clearly that she was the focus of
the entire Sisterhood at Symbala. Had she been her Big Sis, the Warden
might have expired from terminal blushing… and even the self confident
Silklynx found herself gulping. But Kenin gave the younger Keeryte a
reassuring hand squeeze, and a moment later, the attention of the crowd
below her had strayed as each and every Sister began the slow trek back
down to the Vale floor.

“Once again, well done, Ahatki,” Kenin congratulated her student.

“Thank you, Nin’mah.”

“And now,” the Vowsister continued, one eyebrow raised. “Hadn’t the
three of you best be making your way down? You do not wish to be late
for weapon practice.”

There was a confused chorus of “Yes, Nin’mah” and “No, Nin’mah” before
Silklynx and her two fellow Senior Initiates joined their peers picking
a safe way down to the valley floor.