She steeled herself to turn and face it. Then braving its
deepest shadows, she wedged the torch between it and a smaller stone,
half crushed beneath.
And with this action, thrusting stubborn light into a place of
darkness, she found the courage needed to perform the grim task ahead.
Kneeling in the dank ground with her back against the Stone, she shook
off the cold shudder that ran through her at its touch, and opened the
book before her, turning to the ribbon-marked page.
Holding his image ever before her, she began to read aloud the chant.
The words came haltingly at first, unwilling, then stronger, slowly
taking hold of her until it seemed another, far older woman spoke
through her: that she did not need her eyes to recall the words or
sound their meaning. The voice rose and fell.
By the Standing Stone, as dry as bone
Through ancient tales to walk alone
By moonlight stark, to spirits dark
We call to You
Their way be shown.
Back from the land, of withered hand
To islands where the living stand
With arms apart, and naked heart
This spell to Thee
I do command.
Pages:
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108