Willow's End - Jera Skyspear
Elvish words/phrases linked to Glossary OR hover mouse to see translation.
Raumo Korda

Long past nightfall, while everyone gathered around their fires to share the day, the storm call went out through the minds of all upon the mountaintop. It was only a formality because the storm had been visible for a candlemark or more. The passage of clouds preceding it were creeping across the waxing moon.

Most had made their preparations and were just idling until the event. Obviously this storm was slow moving. That was always of benefit. This storm carried sheet lighting too, also fortunate. The dark roiling clouds were now and again brightly lit with an exhilarating display of lightning sprawling out horizontally from a central core. While independent jagged cloud-to-ground strikes carried more raw power, they were more intermittent and wilder to handle. Conversely, the crackling spread of many light fingers in a comparatively slow but steady succession were easier to attract and redirect.

Jera was excited by the coming of a storm, as always, but tonight the designates included her good friend, Telvea, who would take up the post to the left of Jera's father, while Jera's post was on his right. Telvea was as close to a sister as Jera had, except that they truly only had storm interests in common. It was a rare thing for all three of them to be on the same designate rotation. Jera felt it was a good omen for success.

Most of her days were spent assisting in teaching the children of the clan. She was involved in special efforts to acquaint the children with the languages and habits of their neighbors, all in the interest of promoting peaceful co-existence. Jera worked to make it fun to learn and had the freedom to do so as playfully as she wished since she worked with the very young. In this she took up some of her mother's interests in learning and teaching languages, but it was not what gave her the most joy. Standing with her father and working with the power of the storm is where her heart soared. So, she did her best in between, but came alive when a storm appeared on the horizon.

The other clanfolk stayed within the village and commenced their ritual support for this night's proceedings, while all seven of the designates assembled on their stone platforms at the Storm Temple. The designates were distributed around the half circle of steps backing the natural reflection pool. The storm was moving closer such that the edges of purple, blue and white flashes could be seen mirrored on the water.

On cue from Jera's father, the seven singers began their chorus. They stood completely unfettered by clothing or other adornments. Nothing must distract the lightning from the pool, nor veil their ability to draw and channel the wild light. Seven tall lithe pale bodies shone brightly with each flare of lightning. Long silky silver-blonde hair sparkled as it whipped about their faces in the storm's charged breeze.

Slowly the group raised their upturned palms as they stretched out with their collective focus, while singing a siren song to the power in the storm and reaching out toward its erratic light. The storm clouds indeed drifted closer, shattering the black sky repeatedly as the center exploded into colorful spidering light.

As the storm singers gave themselves over to the song, to the good graces of Elbereth, to the cool air whirling around them, and the fresh raindrops tapping their skin... their arms opened up wide to the storm, inviting it into the temple.

And so it came.



Again, on the cue from Uuringar, a mental image from each singer manifested above the reflection pool. Each established a vector, a triangle of pale twinkling light, angled open and pointing downward at the water. These sheer constructs merged into one wide chute which began to move in a clockwise fashion, spinning to appear almost solid and forming a barely visible funnel of light, a collector for the storm's gifts. The movement of the light construct began to hum in harmony with the singers' voices. The storm singers created a magnetic vortex into which cooperative lightning might be fed and channeled.

Still with lyrics of praise to the gods and goddesses, particularly to Elbereth and her gifts of Light; with praise and thanks to this storm and all storms, the singers invited the lightning to visit them, to give itself to the world in this place.

As they watched the storm clouds, some of the fingers of light began to crackle downward instead of outwardly. On the next starburst of lightning, nearly all the small blades of power were sucked into the vortex. Even the thunder of them seemed to be pulled in. They converged into a shining ribbon of light, a jagged sword of brightness and energy. The power was fed directly into the pool and from there into the veins of metal ore which began up here but traced raggedly downward throughout the mountain, spreading out, just as lighting is wont to do in the skies.

Three times the storm clouds displayed their magnificence and three times the singers persuaded the tempest to share its bounty. Through the guidance of the storm singers, the monstrous energy of the blades of light were infused into the depths of the mountain.

The storm began to fade and Uuringar led the seven singers to gradually withdraw their appeals to the skies. They sang more softly, in gratitude, all descending to kneel before the power in the firmament and its blessings, even now rumbling beneath them through the mountain. The storm clouds rolled back and moved on their own course again.

The seven storm singers at Raumo Korda, designates of the Clan Hyandakalan, descended further to sit cross-legged, palms resting open on their knees, heads bowed and eyes closed. Their voices were scarcely breath as each reflected upon their own need to draw back individual reserves, to balance and center their own spirits and to once more give great thanks to the power, the forces, the grace, in all things.

The night sky became calm again. The cloudiness thinned into a steady sprinkling of light rain beneath a sparse blanket of only the brightest stars. The clan's home on the mountain was once again quiet except for the perpetual whispers of the wind over stone and its chatter as it danced among the trees.

Quietly the seven designates donned their robes and filed out of the Storm Temple to go back to hearth and kin. Jera simply exchanged a warm understanding smile with Telvea, then she and her father walked home in silent contentment together. Neither of them was aware that this was the last time they would share their art.

DHP © Jun 02 2002

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