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Bear Medicine is a site devoted to shamanism, reiki and spiritual healing. Training workshops and healing sessions are offered by White Feather in the Dordogne, France and, from time to time, internationally. I invite you to explore this alternative world... Bear Medicine est un site dédié au chamanisme, au reiki et à la guérison spirituelle. Formations, stages et séances de guérison sont offerts par White Feather en Dordogne, en France et, parfois, internationalement. Je vous invite à explorer ce monde alternatif... |
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(Bentôt en français...) One of the first talents of the shaman, and one which is often glossed over by western neo-shamans, is that of storyteller. I have been a story teller all my life, having written my first "mini-novel" before my 11th birthday (it wasn't very good)! Indeed, much of history's best known literature has been inspired by shamanic journeys: Homer's Odyssey, Milton's Paradise Lost, Lewis Caroll's Alice in Wonderland, to name but a few. Even Star Wars has a classic shamanic theme! I have decided to add my contribution in little "bits" of storytelling each day. My stories are not necessarily about shamans, but are very much inspired by shamanism and my love of the spirit world. I hope that over the years my storytelling has improved, and I invite you to read... The Eyes of The Serpent
Archives: The Eyes of The Serpent Chapter 4
The villagers had seen Xandor escape into the woods on horseback, albeit from behind their half-closed shutters, and they had seen the dark-riders leave almost immediately afterwards, flying their black dragons over the woods in pursuit. No one had dared move. With the women and children hidden away in the most secure rooms of the little stone houses, the men had continued to watch from their windows, occasionally calling warily to a neighbor. When it seemed that the dark-riders were not going to return, Jospehr, the village leader fought back the fear that was threatening to choke him, and carefully opened his front door. He called to his wife to lock the door and the window shutters immediately after he stepped outside. As she did so, he told her not to reopen for anyone but him. He scanned the air above the village, seeing only stars shining brightly in the full dark of night. There were no stars obscured by, well, by the shapes of … dragons. Despite the friendship that he’d shared with the boy, he had to admit to himself that he’d thought that Xandor had lost his mind that night at the end of winter when he’d called the villagers to help, shouting that his father had been abducted by dark-riders who’d arrived in the village on black dragons. He’d been screaming like a fool, accusing the other villagers of seeing the dragons as well, though they everyone denied seeing anything. Even me, he thought to himself with a fleeting sense of shame despite the fear that was still coursing through his veins. It was true that they’d never seen Gihlus again, and some of the villagers even went as far as to suggest that perhaps Xandor had murdered his own father and then fabricated the fantastic story to cover everything up. But others in the village argued against that, claiming that Xandor was simply crazy. It occurred to Jospehr, now, that those villagers were, in fact, the same ones who Xandor claimed had witnessed his father’s kidnapping by the dark-riders. Even me. The words formed again silently in his mind. The villagers, not wishing themselves to be thought crazy, had tried to come to terms with the impossible event they’d actually witnessed, so they had denied everything, even to themselves. Not really surprising, he thought. It was a time that was becoming increasingly difficult for everyone, what with the never-ending heat and the lack of food. And now dragons. Jospehr knocked gently at the window shutter of one of the elders. “Cahrin,” he called quietly. “It’s me, Jospehr. Open the door and come outside. We need to search for Xandor.” He heard a wail from inside. Cahrin’s wife was pleading with her husband to stay inside. But after a moment, Jospehr heard the metallic clank of the latch being opened, and he saw the elder step out into the dim light of the stars, the door immediately re-latched behind him. There was no light within, he noticed. “Thank you for coming out, Cahrin,” he said simply. “Keep your wits about you and let’s try to get some more help.” Cahrin nodded his head, but didn’t move from the doorway, his eyes regarding the sky above Jospehr’s head, searching. “It’s no use, you knows, young‘un.” His eyes briefly made contact with the village leader’s before continuing their surveillance of the heavens. “We won’ finds him ‘ere. He’s gone. He won’ be back. Dark-riders don’ never brings peoples back, you knows.” “You know something of this, don’t you, Cahrin?” Jospehr spoke softly, placing his hand on the elder’s frail shoulder. Cahrin was the oldest of the elders. In fact, he was the oldest person alive in the canton, which comprised a dozen villages, and it was said that he might be the oldest person alive in the county. Jospehr felt strange trying to comfort such a man, with so much experience, for he, himself, was barely 21. He was the youngest “elder” ever elected, and he was the leader of the elders. “Aye, Ise do.” “Who are the dark-riders? I thought they were just stories and legends.” Jospehr turned his body so that he was standing shoulder to shoulder with the elder, to comfort him with the knowledge that he, too, could help watch the skies in case of another attack. The two men stared at the heavens in silence for a few moments, their eyes gradually coming to rest on an unusual sight. It looked like a shooting star, but it was stationary: it did not slice through the night sky like others that Jospehr had seen. It looked like any other star, though brighter and larger, and it had a long faint tail of white trailing behind it. When Jospehr looked more closely, he thought that he could pick out two points of light at the head of the phenomenon, but he could not be sure. He blinked to clear his eyes and looked away from the night sky to stare once more at Cahrin. “Oh, real enough, theys are; the dark-riders. Theys comes from Balthador awright, an’ Balthador’s a long ways off, but iss there, real enough, jes’ the same.” He trembled slightly as he spoke, the fear shuddering in his shoulder and felt by Jospehr. “True enough, iss awl tol’ like legen’s, nowadays, but there was times when the dark things from Balthador came offen into our worl’. They stole sheeps and tooked the young girls and e’en some of the young women. Theys tooked Gihlus’ mother, you knows, jes’ after Gihlus was born. Then theys tooked Gihlus an’ now theys tooked his son. Theys tooked Xandor. Tha’s what the legen’s said would happ’n, you knows, it was told tha’ three generations would be tooked, an’ tha’ then would be the en’ of the worl’. “In the ol’ days, when the dark things came offen, there was lo’s of battl’s, an’ our people’s e’en killed some of the dark things. It was possible, see. An’ the legen’s came outta those battl’s. But the real legen’s was e’en before that. Theys was the ancien’ prophecies, what was tol’ long before the legen’s. That the dark things would come into our worl’ an’ takes three generations of peoples, an’ that their worl’ an’ our worl’ was goin’ crash together one hundred days after tha’, durin; the longes’ hottes’ summer. An’ the real legen’s tol’ that it would be up to the youngster of the three generations to stop the two worl’s from collidin’. An’ only he could do it, if it could e’en be done at awl. An’ he’d hafta kill a giant snake that was pullin’ our two worl’s together. Ours an’ Balthador. An’ if the young’un was captur’d by the dark things, then he wudden be able ta save our worl’s. Tha’s the real legen’.” Cahrin paused, breathing fast. His hand had grabbed Jospehr’s arm while he told his story, his grip surprisingly tight for such an old man. He relaxed his hand and let it hand drop to his side, trying to control his breathing. His eyes were still fixed on the faint comet glaring at them from the dark sky. His eyes were glinting with fear and he closed them for a moment, to block out the present while he seemed to be remembering things once again. His eyes still closed, he said, “Sos tha’s why he won’ be comin’ back. The dark things got wha’ theys wanted, jes’ like the legen’s said. Theys has the three generations of peoples now.” Jospehr looked into the frightened eyes of the oldest man. “But why would the dark things want the two worlds to be destroyed? Ours and theirs?” “Oh, the legen’s is ol’, and no one really knows what theys used to say. But in my days, it was whisper’d that when the two worl’s came together, theys would become one black an’ dark worl’. One ‘orrible place for awl the dead peoples in the universe. One Balthador. An’ the ruler of Balthador would rule over awl the dead peoples and all the dark things for all eternity.” There was a sudden noise that startled the two men, and Cahrin shrieked with fear.
Continuing daily... |
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