Pentacles Five: The Six Inversions of Purpose: Ii/Vi

By C. R. Bryan

A gently shining aura, shaped coffin-like, formed closely around William Wimmurs rigid, grimacing body. Mortimer the Magnificent Dragon sighed nonchalantly, Oh well, another day, another demon. Morty took a ring of running rainbow fire off one of his dainty, long fingers. He did a calliope version of one of his favorite tunes, Find a Ring, and slid the ring onto Williams left index finger. The flaming ring adjusted to fit William, as if it were an old possession.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Oct 23, 2015
• ISBN: 9781490763521

C. R. Bryan

C. R. Bryan is a well-known character at several Renaissance and Medieval Faires. He is an artist, author and musician with 65 years of playful experience. These original songs are inspired by the music and musicians he knows. You will find Pirate ditties, pagan songs, bar songs, Irish folk and Celtic, medieval and renaissance styles, and even a Romany tribute dance-song. If you sing or play these tunes, you will be living in two worlds of the present and one of the past. The author is enamored of modal and irregular rhythm, so look out for bumps in the path!

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Copyright 2015 C. R. Bryan.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental and unintended.

ISBN: 978-1-4907-6351-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4907-6353-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4907-6352-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015913167

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Pentacles Five

Contents

Part I Dragon’s Breath

i Halcyon Mists

ii Ejection from Unika

iii Sardonic Cities

iv Pentacle of White Flame

Part 2 Aigle’s Stone

i Desert Soul

ii Holy Cave

iii Empty Temples

iv Pentacle of Water

Part 3 Bone Flute

i Star Angel

ii False Cadence

iii Psychic Fugue

iv Pentacle of Air

Part 4 Doom Rock

i Boxed Oracles

ii Dark Flights

iii Embrace of Death

iv Pentacle of Sky

Part 5 Morty’s Ring

i Wiccan Thoughts

ii Numbered Words

iii Healer’s Pain

iv Pentacle of Earth

Postlogue

This Book is lovingly dedicated

to one who may be an

incarnation of

the Centauress, Rean,

for whom Freedom includes Love,

in despite of fear.

Shall we learn this together?

Pentacles Five

Part I

Dragon’s Breath

i

Halcyon Mists

A gently shining aura, shaped coffin-like, formed closely around William Wimmur’s rigid, grimacing body. Mortimer the Magnificent Dragon sighed non-chalant, Oh, well, another day, another demon. Morty took a ring of running rainbow fire off one of his dainty, long fingers. He did a calliope version of one of his favorite tunes, Find a Ring, and slid the ring onto William’s left index finger. The flaming ring adjusted to fit William as if it were an old possession.

Azak! Morty said, with a guttural clicking. The ring became flesh and disappeared.

William’s painfully contorted face was already relaxing toward a sad repose. The black cloud from which Loki had called Thor’s thunderbolt was dissipating, allowing starlight to play on William’s rigid body, giving him a cosmic massage. Morty began another of his favorites, She’ll be Coming ’Round the Mountain, and the Dragon gave special attention to the sound effects when he got to the part about the old red rooster.

William looked more peaceful now and Morty grinned.

He then puffed a bit more life into the misty aura he had created to shield William from accident while the novice went through this traumatic cycle.

Whether William would decide to emerge from his grief was entirely up to William, but Morty had a vested interest in the lad, and thought a coach and four was the least he could do. But he must pay attention to the grinding of old Kronos’ teeth, for Loki might forget his victory revels and reach out to squelch William, just for the mischief of bill-cracking bugs.

Ah, chuckled Morty, and what a flea this mortal mite will be! Dragon-glow laughed in the night.

Rean, the Centauress, lovingly lifted William in her arms, thereby partially sharing the cloud of illusion Mortimer had placed about the young man. Rean breathed softly of William’s changing odors. She knew he would return, but in some different aspect, and she quivered with eager but timid anticipation. She held him close to her breast, wishing he would respond to her breath. He almost floated in her arms. Rean stamped impatiently with her near fore hoof.

Yes, indeed, Morty sighed, we must get him safe away, before Loki remembers to scratch this flea. The Dragon placed himself between the council fire on the hill and the vulnerable mortal in Rean’s arms.

Frea the Unicorn trotted up softly and nuzzled William. Morty and Frea then flanked Rean as she carried the still bundle -almost weightless, slightly glowing - toward the trees which circled Octal’s pool. There, that wisest daughter of Ocean kept herself hidden from Loki, and could hide William and succor him through this transition. Rean fervently wished to be the one to awaken and to nurture William, but she trusted Octal. Rean knew Loki would seek out any missing creature, and he was aware of the Centauress. Who but Octal would be safe? Rean shuddered and almost stumbled at the dark edge of the glimmering pool.

A phosphorescent ripple quietly spread from Octal’s calmly smiling face. She reached for William with her lovely white arms.

Rean sighed long as she passed the stiff, but more peaceful-looking body of William down to the star-flecked waters and to the goddess Octal. Tears, an unfamiliar sight in the Vale of Unika, flowed from Rean’s large brown eyes.

Octal smiled at Rean and playfully flicked some water from a pink tentacle, at the Centauress. Rean shook herself and whuffed in agitation. Frea laid her white head and neck comfortingly across Rean’s withers. Rean hugged and stroked the velvet-muscled Unicorn, and offered thanks in a pulsing tone for Frea’s strength and for Mortimer’s magic.

Mortimer blended with the tree-shadows cast by the moon and then he disappeared. Frea and Rean watched Octal float William in his mist, out of sight behind reeds and broad-leaved, water-loving elephant-ear plants.

Rean and Frea reluctantly turned toward the scene of Loki’s re-transformation. Frea would limit Loki’s mischief if she could. Rean must endure whatever was to be the fate of the Unikai under the domination of Loki. She would have run away if there had been a place or a friend she could trust. But all her friends were here in the Vale of Unika, at Loki’s mercy. Rean sniffed the breeze for news or for relief from her sadness. The fumes of the council fire drifted down from the hill, where most of the Unikai were dancing the revels of All Hallows. Frea and Rean trotted anxiously toward the dancing circles in the air and on the hill.

Octal hummed to William as she undressed him. She smiled at the pleasure to come, when she would sooth and caress him back into consciousness and calm. She laid his panama hat, his glasses and clothes on a rock at the edge of her pool. Then she began to stroke and knead the young man’s taut muscles. Octal knew just how to relax his nerves, to restore his circulation, to awaken William’s body once more to pleasure, so that his mind would regain the desire for life it had lost when Loki claimed Zair.

Octal mused as she worked. The Unikai had known something of what might happen if Loki escaped that form: Alecto, the magic cock, one of that fabled trio who will crow at the end of the world. Where in the Vale might the real Alecto have gone when Loki ceased to possess him?

William began slowly to relax and to respond to Octal’s expert and playful massage. She began crooning softly into his ear, as Morty’s cloud of illusion began to evaporate and shred away into the light breeze. Octal gently lowered William into the warmer waters which flowed into her pool from Gynothóe’s spring. Then Octal wrapped some of her legs about William, for her own pleasure as much as for his sensory awakening. When his eyelids began to flutter in the starlight, Octal kissed them and succeeded in getting a soft, hungry kiss from his lips.

William sighed. He felt like he was awaking from a nightmare into a paradise. He encircled the Woman’s body with his arms, and returned her caresses dreamily.

Her warm breasts were so pleasantly soft against his own that he felt a surge of tender yearning. He responded to her kiss with passion. Then he realized that he had been rigid in the terrible shock of sadness only moments ago and some of the sadness returned. He wanted to believe he was holding Zair; but he knew it was Octal.

The Goddess felt the changes in William’s awareness, his return of consciousness, and she hoped he would allow her to excite him and to purge the hurt of his loss, in lovemaking. William sensed her kindness and embraced her thankfully, but his shattered hopes were too recent, too strong, too bitter. The vision of Zair smiling at him just before Loki had called down Thor’s thunderbolt was as real as the actual event. It seemed to him that Zair had said something to him that was lost. The vision went black. He opened his eyes and withdrew his lips from the warm delight of Octal’s kiss. He clung to her however, feeling safe in her embrace. He smiled in a twisted and bitter way.

Octal… William began.

Shh… She kissed his nose and cheeks and let her tentacles play over his firm and pleasant body. She tried to speak in her special language of touch and William felt the thoughts, but Octal saw that he could not yet understand all she said. Words would have to do until he would let her touch him with full understanding. She was pleased that his hands, fingers and lips were already sending simple, delighted phrases. Octal giggled.

William was amazed at the sensations Octal was causing in him. He felt guilty that he could be responsive to her, so he began to get tense. He tried to recall the vision of Zair but he met only the night’s dark phantoms.

Please relax, William. It’s all right. Pleasure is a healing emotion. Octal massaged the tense muscles and caressed William until he let himself feel once more the pleasure of her touch. But he closed his eyes and began to cry. Octal sipped his tears and knew his thoughts. You will learn insight from this loss, William.

He clung to her tightly as he grieved. When his pain lessened Octal once more tried to communicate by her touch. She knew he was almost ready; but he was blocking her message with guilt and fear.

What have I done? He asked, as he let his hand follow the form of her back. What can I do?

You have brought Loki Alecto into the Vale of Unika at his direction, although you knew it not; and Loki found a way or the right moment to regain his old form and powers, and he has taken control of what he could because that is his nature. It was foreseen. You were only the messenger, not the evil. Octal kissed William’s painfully wrinkled forehead.

Then I must undo the evil, William moaned.

If you accept that purpose you may doom yourself along with us.

Octal was pleased at the rate of recovery of her patient. She stroked the soles of his feet with admiring touches.

But what can I do against a god? William despaired.

If Loki disturbs Zair’s dance, transformations will become self-destructive. Loki’s mischief is strong. Octal voiced her own fear and pressed the meaning into the small muscles of William’s lower back with the delicate tips of her tentacles. She also felt of the warm spots on William’s shoulders and wondered what they would become. Zair has touched you, she smiled and licked his lips.

I love her, William confessed. His heart was in his throat.

We all do, Octal replied. She grinned playfully. Don’t you love me, William? She felt his mixed, painful feelings. Don’t you love the Vale and all of us? She pinched his bottom, teasing him.

He nodded. Yes, very much. What can I do?

Make Loki change his purpose. Octal petted William, a reward for his honest reply. She wished he would open his feelings to her.

But how? William caressed Octal without thinking, but with great and shocking pleasure. I have no power.

Oh, William. You learn so quickly. I am certain you will discover that your strengths are equal to your purpose, a - ah, if - your will is firm. Octal kissed William with fervor.

William totally shared in her intense embuscade but after a while, he thought he must act for himself and not let his body rule his mind. He broke the kiss reluctantly.

I will, he said quietly, but firmly.

I know, Octal whispered. She gently uncoiled from him, but kept a mere touch for comfort. She felt the beginnings of his resolve and knew he would soon leave. She wanted to touch him more but she let fate have its way. Octal hoped he would not fail, but she knew how Loki’s mischief could change everything; perhaps destroy everyone, even the Unikai, forever.

Even Ocean himself was not immune this time to Loki’s insidious machinations. That was why Octal had been sent to the Vale of Unika.

William gave Octal a goodbye kiss which admitted a loving passion to her. He trembled with desire.

Wouldn’t you like to play before you go, Lover? she teased.

Too dangerous. Both you and Loki. He grinned back at her and then he climbed onto the rock where his clothes lay. He sparkled wetly with phosphorescence and the light of the stars.

Octal admired his form. Maybe, William, you are a god. Truly, you look like one.

He was embarrassed and he dressed in haste. Was Octal only playful? Was she ever serious? But he was shivering and he had been warm in her arms. Could he understand a goddess? Could he even understand a mortal? He rejected his criticisms. He remembered he was, in Sam’s words a blood-bag, nothing more. He wasn’t worthy of the attention he had received, but nevertheless he forced himself to admit he needed these positive, encouraging, friendly words and touches. He had consciously compared himself to Loki as a rival and William found himself wanting. Thank you, Octal, his teeth chattered, although he was warming in his clothes. Thank you for your love and encouragement. He put all his humility and sincerity in his words. He spoke softly, worried that Loki’s attention might alight in him, although the Council Hill was out of sight and even the music of Silan’s pipes was muffled among the trees.

Octal smiled her wise and knowing, playful smile which was impossible to resist. William smiled deeply in return. She was seductively beautiful in the pool, in the moonlight. The vivid memory of her touch sent shivers through William. These shivers warmed him thoroughly, made his cheeks flush and made his breath steam his glasses.

William knelt down on the rock to say goodbye. Octal floated closer, her luminous blue eyes looking up, inviting him. He took her smooth white hand and kissed her pearlescent fingers tenderly. She stroked his lips and cheeks. His eyelids fell again, as his self-doubt revived.

It is easy to be powerful, William, Octal said, with soft words and the touch of her fingers. One simply does something necessary. She felt the resolve harden in his mouth and she slowly removed her hand from his face. He still held her and his hand was reluctant to leave hers. She kissed his fingertips and slid away, waving with her hand and the tips of her tentacles. Her eyes seemed pools of blue fire. She blew a kiss to William and rose up in the water to let him see her luminous white body. She knew he liked that part of her.

William waved, then as he watched her slowly sink, he adjusted his Panama straw hat - rather worn and limber now - and he set his rimless glasses once more in place upon his upturned Irish nose. His wild curly brown hair was drying. He pushed it back and resettled his hat, delaying, postponing his departure.

Octal slowly sank beneath the water’s surface. She became a glow then she was gone. William broke the spell by gripping the cold rough rocks as hard as he could. Then he arose and turned away, to leave Octal and the Vale of Unika and Zair, and Rean, Cherny, Hanuman, Brün, Azam and all the others. A long sigh escaped him.

Doubt overwhelmed him as he turned away. What was he? What could he do? He had been so happy creating the animated replicas of his friends, building his idea, Unikaland, to pay the taxes and to educate the public about the spirits and gods of Nature, while protecting the Vale and the real refuge of the real, extraordinary, unique beings who had become his only companions.

Could he function outside of the Vale? Could he meet ordinary people and not long for the arms of Octal? The pettiness of the outside world seemed monstrous. But then, he had no choice.

William felt a great need, a great wanting. Morty! he whispered urgently, hoping the Dragon would appear from the shadows or from the fireflies or from anything, to give to William some kind of help no matter how enigmatic.

Some warmth on his index finger made him look at his left hand. He discovered a faint glow, a ring of rainbow faintness which brightened then faded away. But Morty did not appear, nor did Red the Dragonfly buzz in William’s ear. He felt very alone. As he began walking away from Octal’s pool, he heard a little splash and turned to look, but he saw only the still reflections of a few stars.

A tisket, a tasket, a green and yellow casket…

Pentacles Five

Part I

Dragon’s Breath

ii

Ejection from Unika

The full moon was rising above the trees now, showing William his path. He knew it was easterly towards unknown tests and a mighty struggle and an uncertain goal. He resolved his doubts somewhat, accepting his growing sense of despair, the feeling of almost guaranteed defeat. But he clung to his desire to fulfill his promises, to become as strong as he could become, to do whatever he could to change Loki’s plans. William must save Unika and the fabulous creatures if possible.

William and his inner child Willie played Indian in the moonlight, silently stalking the path, staying in shadows. When Willie reached the edge of the woods he motioned great big William to crouch lower and to run silently through the tall grass and flowers of Rean’s meadows and Cherny’s warrens. They headed for the iliac rise where Vanir the van was parked beside the dark Watching Woods. Loki had insisted while he was Loki Alecto, upon naming the old van, Vanir. William hoped Vanir would not trick him nor betray him to Loki. The clouds were forming again, massing and blocking stars in the southeast, chasing Luna across her stellar stage. William and Willie hurried silently.

On Council Hill the dance was whirling and the fire was blazing. William didn’t see, didn’t want to see details because he feared he might see Zair in Loki’s arms.

The cloud of souls above the dance of All-Hallows glowed violet in the firelight and the Queen of Hel shone a soft yellow-white among her wraiths and bats.

William heard an indecipherable music, mixtures of syrinx, drum and harp notes so swift and soft that the melody was lost. William felt of the bone flute to be certain that it was still safely tucked away in his pocket, next to his tormented heart.

Luna played with her veils, encouraging mysterious wisps of cloud to hide her partially from view. She didn’t much care for this phase of her glory, being fully exposed and vulnerable in her rôle to the taunts and jeers she imagined coming from the revelers. She preferred the fashionable wispiness of her New Moon self but she nevertheless played her part like a trouper, in her clown-white face encircled by rainbow rime at a respectful distance. She noted the impatient thunderhead below, like a crowd of grey elephants soon to steal the show. Luna gave of her best while she held the center ring.

Frea and Rean trotted up and joined the dance with firelight gleaming on their flanks. Silan played wildly; for creatures of earth, sky and underworld enjoy their annual revel most when it is exciting, thrilling, fast and sweet. Frea’s white coat and glittering necklace added brightness to the circle which cheered all the Unikai, even those who thought it might be their last revel. The Queen’s harp laughed more merrily and Silan’s syrinx trilled and arpeggiated the melodies in a yet more lively spirit, all for the Unicorn.

Frea studied her old antagonist, Loki. Did he know her in this form? He would certainly know her necklace Brisingame, and he would know her name. Perhaps he would not believe the goddess survived. Frea nickered, Uinta, I am called Uinta, to each creature she passed. Frea-Uinta danced and pranced but warily eyed Loki as he embraced Zair, who seemed as lost in the embrace as was Loki.

Would Zair transform the god or would his force pervert or still Zair’s perpetual becoming? There was something strange here which made Frea’s nostrils quiver. It was calmness. This embrace between hunter and prey was not the struggle Frea expected. And Frea knew Zair better than any other of the Unikai except for the vanished Mrs. Bump.

With a snort and a cavorting leap, Uinta hid her joy at the discovery she had made. Loki was embracing the too-easy, too-accepting form of the New Zair, that William had created, which Mortimer Dragon had infused with life.

Loki the master of tricks was being tricked by an almost-Zair, a life-like machine! The meaning of the substitution was clear. Zair must be in hiding. But why would the New Zair give herself to Loki, when William had made her to serve his own needs? Perhaps the breath of the Dragon was more complex than it had seemed.

Frea-Uinta dreaded the moment when Loki would discover the substitution. She felt sorry for the New Zair. Frea danced with abandon, and with grace, and she let her gold-tipped horn draw rune-signs in the air as she and the Unikai circled the fire and the god who embraced a life-like machine.

Uinta felt the spells of moderation being cast inward upon the couple; she felt the subtle waves of force and design, pattern and feeling which Cherny and Hanuman, Ganesh and Ochs, Arachne and Caun and many of the others dancing, cast repeatedly inward upon the enraptured pair. Many forces wished to dull Loki’s keen, mischievous wand. The god wore the multi-colored cape of Frea, the feathers he had stolen. It was pinned with a rune-disk. He wore a girdle of silver links on a short kirtle of iridescent yellow silk. The hateful wand was stuck in the girdle. Uinta-Frea noticed with delight the small tufts of feathers still growing from Loki’s elbow and thigh, disrupting the god’s golden-pink body. His blonde, wavy hair still had somewhat the shape of a cock’s comb. A millennium of shape- shift had left its mark, even on the irrepressible Loki.

Rean noticed many of these things, but she devoted her dancing to her emotions, seeking oblivion from the sadness and future tragedy in her own sensuous movements. The future would take care of itself. She breathed the musty aura of the god and she shivered.

The towering cloud approached Luna with slowly roiling billows like an elephant waltz ball, filling the arena of the sky. William toiled up the hill of the grapevines; the iliac crest of the Vale of Unika, toward the place Vanir was parked.

He thought he smelled bear. Had Brün been at the feast? William rested a moment watching the cloud roll over the Vale of Unika, swallowing the moonlit beauties of the Vale in a fuming darkness. William felt a pain around his heart, a pain that he had done so well and so poorly at the same time.

He had been so happy that Unikaland had been such a success, and at Morty’s speech of commendation and at his wish for the love of Zair, and at the smile on her usually reserved face; and then he had felt the awful pain of rejection when Loki had transformed in the lightning and had called Zair to him, to the god’s side. She had run happily, joyfully to the god. But something kept William from a deathly fullness in that pain. He saw Zair’s brilliant red eyes calmly watching him and he remembered his promise to Mrs. Bump, to save Zair and the Vale.

With a heavy shrug and a sad shake of his head, and a shiver because of the gusty wind arising, William continued up the hill. His head began to hurt and his ears were ringing. He began to think about the futility of his continuing struggle. He was temporary, and Loki was not. Zair was not a mortal.

What foolishness for William to think of contesting Loki, to win Zair from him. The sky was quite dark now. William felt he should have already arrived at Vanir. He saw a dark mass ahead, and assumed it was the Watching Wood. He put out his hand when the ground leveled off and presently felt the trunk of a tree. He had missed Vanir.

A burning sensation in many divided points on his skin, began hurting his hand and arm. William tried to brush whatever it was, off, but he only spread it more widely across his skin. He heard the sound of weeping. Who is it? William cried. His arms burned as if covered with acid.

Betrayer! the voice of Nyax replied. She moaned sadly.

William realized he was at the barn, instead of at the van. I beg your forgiveness, Nyax! William was on the point of tears from the pain on his arm. I didn’t know what Loki would do! I did my best. William tried to rub off the burning drops with his bandanna.

The moon peeked through an edge of the elephantine cloud, to show Nyax beside the pomegranate tree. She looked pleadingly up at William.

You said you would save the Vale and the trees, she replied, crying red tears.

They are saved from the taxman and the developer, Nyax, William pleaded. I don’t think Loki wants to hurt your trees.

Don’t you know or care what he will do to me? Nyax touched William’s arms and the pain subsided. Hold me, William, she asked, like a child.

William knelt and put his burning arms gently around the dark dryad’s smooth brown body. The backs of his arms became numb. Nyax put a fruit between her teeth and offered it to William. He didn’t want to make her unhappy, so he bit into the fruit as he looked into her hazelnut eyes.

The fruit was incredibly bitter and William grimaced. Nyax changed into a giant shiny larva in his arms and began to twist and turn, spreading foul-smelling ooze wherever she touched. William let her go, in horror and revulsion. The larva crawled away as the light of the moon failed again.

William, wretched and weeping and forgetful of Loki, fell face forward in the dirt and bawled because he was thoroughly miserable and as unhappy as he knew how to be.

Suddenly William was drenched with cold water. At first he thought it was rain, but no more water fell. He opened his eyes, and saw a large shoe in front of his face. We’el, Lad, the familiar, oddly-accented voice of Augie said, you seem to be in a moderately sorry condition, as I might be saying.

William looked up through his tears, and recognized the tall silhouette of the ancient clown, William’s closest friend in the Vale. Augie had done an amazing amount of work on the creatures of Unikaland. William sat up, embarrassed and disgusted at his own state.

Belike ye might be wantin’ a cup of coffee? Augie mused. The wind is comin’ on to a chill, I believe. Augie stood philosophically looking out over the Vale. He showed no sign of apprehension.

William struggled to rise, trying to brush off the mud and slime to no effect. His wet shirt and the wind made him sneeze.

Augie led William to the dark barn, sliding open the broad door and hurrying William inside, then shutting out the chill breeze.

Augie uncovered a dark lantern with a bright candle inside. He gave William an interested, appraising look. A slight twinkle was in his eye. Best shuck them rags, Lad. I’ll fetch ye somewhat dryer togs. He left with the lantern, going toward the Vardo, which showed only a slender glimmer of light from its dark-curtained windows.

William agreed silently by stripping the wet, filthy khakis off his shivering body. He wiped his glasses on a semi-clean spot of his shirt-tail and felt the goose bumps arise all over his flesh, over every last bit of skin he owned.

Augie soon returned from a corner of the barn where circus chests were stashed, stacked two and three high like a comic Ishtar Gate from which armies of clowns and jugglers might issue momentarily.

Augie brought a long white clown shirt for William, who thankfully and quickly donned the extra-mundane garb. He was relieved there was no giant bow tie or gorilla feet attachment with which to contend. Augie tossed William’s dirty clothes into a pail and pumped water onto the mess.

Let’s have a taste of Java, Lad, and you can tell me what brings you.

A soft, Baa-baa, from the darkness startled William. The old clown held up the lantern. William barely could see three or four enormous sheep or goats. It was too dark to tell which sort of animals it was.

Ordinarily, William would have liked to meet them, but his sneezes and a cough, his headache and low spirits made him follow docile after Augie up the steps of the Vardo, the beautifully carved and painted caravan, past the brocaded curtain and into the cozy cabin, so white and plain. A kerosene lantern lit the inside. It had its own vents in the wall and roof of the Vardo. William fair collapsed on one side bench.

Thanks, Augie.

The Ancient busied himself with the coffee, which was already made. Think naught on it, he said as he handed a small white cup and saucer steaming with the aromatic brew to William. Augie had a wry smile.

William shoved up the long, long sleeves of the clown shirt and took the warm cup and saucer.

Mind the hot, Augie cautioned as he settled back to the opposite bench and sloping wall.

William remembered when he had burned his mouth on Mrs. Bump’s coffee. Then he had swallowed (painfully!) an ice cube when he had first met Zair. He blew across the coffee. He breathed in the thick dark aroma and he felt light-headed. At last he sipped the coffee. It seemed even richer than he remembered. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the smell. He was sitting on the bank of a small stream, surrounded by flowers and clouds of butterflies.

Above him was a cypress spreading a canopy of dark green leaves. Someone was walking toward him, someone with rich red hair. As the figure daintily came closer, it waved. The movements were not like Zair’s grace. This figure was more bold and direct. The daintiness had been an effect of the distance and of William’s expectations. William got up, not recognizing the place or the stranger who waved.

William was apprehensive and distrustful. The figure came closer and began to look more familiar, but still William couldn’t place the young man. At a distance of twenty paces, the smiling youth held out his arms in a welcoming gesture, just as William realized that the youth looked almost exactly like William except for the flaming red hair and violet eyes. Who could it be? William was uncertain and distrustful.

Was this a vision? The young man began striding swiftly to close with William but William ran, screaming and afraid. He stumbled and was caught in arms small, but strong. The electric sensation of Zair’s touch calmed and thrilled William at the same time. He opened his eyes and saw the beautiful face of the goddess he loved but couldn’t have. He let himself relax.

Zair vanished and William was once more in the Vardo. Augie sat peacefully on the far bench, his long legs folded like a carpenter’s rule.

William saw his own hands still holding the coffee cup and saucer, and he remembered to breathe, letting go of a long sigh. He looked hopefully all around, but Zair was not to be seen in the simple interior of the caravan.

What can I do? William despaired. What on earth can I do?

We’el, now, if you be askin’ me, I suppose, ye can do most a mite ye set upon with your mind, Lad. Did ye happen to notice those little miracles ye set a-goin’ in that tent up on yon cliff? Augie slightly smiled, and toasted William with the coffee.

William returned the toast. Too late he remembered the strange vision, alas. But this time he remained in his own time and place. That is only toy-making. I have to know much more to defeat or change Loki’s plans.

Seems to me, ye’re a ninth wonder at studying, Lad. Augie patted his knee, in silent applause.

But he’s a god, Augie. A god. William’s ears no longer rang. He vaguely heard the wind outside the barn.

I’ll only say, Lad, ye might ha’ noticed, the one ye shouldn’st a’ mentioned the name, please ye, he seems to have spent a wee bit of time dr-r-ressed as a humble chicken, and it did na’ seem to suit him weel, belike. He was almost tolerable as a cock.

You’re right, Augie! William was astonished. Maybe it can be done, after all! He gained sudden hope. But can I do it, is the question.

Aye do, that’s a Wizard’s aye. Wicca do. Augie winked.

William failed to understand Augie’s meaning. Silently William stared into his cup looking for an answer, or at least a portent. The grounds made a shape like an inverted U, or perhaps it was a tent-like form.

Why don’t ye just lie down an’ rest a spell and maybe the answer’ll come a-trompin’ into your mind? Ye might shake that cold and fever comin’ on.

William quickly shook his head. I’ve got to leave while he’s distracted or he might do something awful, I don’t even know what. He wanted to be in his own clothes, his own space, somewhere he could think and plan.

Take a vacation then. I might be able to run Unikaland the few days it’ll be open this fall, Augie volunteered.

I’ll bet you could run it and the Vale by yourself and never miss me, Augie. You’re on, and thanks. William set down the cup and saucer then gathered the sleeves and tail of the clown shirt as he rose unsteadily from the bench. He felt filled with motivating desires.

Mebbe, mebbe not. Ye enjoy yourself, and a solution will sprout. Ye be lively dirt. Best sip one more time from yon well out there before ye go. It’ll do ye some good, as like. Augie set down his cup and saucer and folded his long arms.

William thought of the well, with its mysterious bronze centaur bucket and vine-covered posts. The water of the well had refreshed him before and had not seemed too unworldly although the water had phosphoresced in the moonlight. He shoved the long sleeves back up on his arms and adjusted his glasses.

Well all right. I’ll miss you, Augie. William let himself out of the Vardo, into the vast darkness of the barn.

Scurry, scurry, echoed faintly from all directions.

But the wind told William where the door was and he visualized where things were in the familiar dark spaces. Nevertheless, he bumped into the pail, sloshing cold water on his feet. He found his keys, coins and pencils in the cold water, and then his fingers warmed at the touch of the bone flute. It seemed encouraging. William remembered vividly how the flute had saved and strengthened him in the terrifying Grotto of Hel.

With these talismans William could face the danger-laced gloom outside, the pall which Loki - and William - had caused to shroud the endangered Vale of Unika. The heavy door of the barn slid silently open. A burst of wind snatched at the Panama hat. William saved the hat and pressed forward in his flapping and billowing clown shirt. He grinned at the thought that he looked like the ghost of a clown, in the spectral, lingering glow of a few stars and a little bit of moon not yet overwhelmed by the parade of elephantesque clouds.

William found the well of the Centaurs. He wasn’t sure he wanted to have any dealings with spirited things but he wanted to feel the shapes of the centaur bucket one more time. He pulled on the rope, discovering the bucket was down in the water.

Vague, pearly lights floated in the water, reminding him of Octal. He spoke to the water-lights.

"If comfort you can give, please comfort me.

Naiad or spirit, honor to thee,

I wish enlightenment, so let it be."

William hauled on the rope, landing the bucket on the coping of the well. The water glimmered faintly. William sighed and drank deeply from the full bucket. His hands felt the sculpted forms on the sides of the bronze casting. Suddenly he was seeing rainbows, carnival lights, comets passing, fireworks redly dazzling his eyes, fireballs of yellows and blues. He couldn’t tell if they were inside or outside him. Sometimes they seemed to have figures: Morty, or Loki, or Rean. Rean cavorted in radiant, shimmering rainbows, and she beckoned urgently. William held on to the carved posts of the well for support. The visions slowly faded as William heard a silvery, bubbling laugh echo up from the well.

Your wish, William, is our desire, the voice giggled.

William’s eyes were still dazzled, and he could not tell whether he saw anything in the well or not. He was not thirsty any more; he only wanted to get to Vanir and escape. He blinked his eyes, waiting for vision to return as he touched the leaf-forms of the well-posts and the Centaur-shapes of the bucket to press them into his memory.

Finally dark forms in the black night and the distant light of the Council fire and of the Tholos Temple let him know that he might navigate. He lowered the bucket back into the giggling waters. He did feel better but he was terrified that something else might go wrong.

William set out on the familiar path, perhaps for the last time.

As he passed the shadow-shape of Mrs. Bump’s house, where faint lights played through the colored glass of the door, outlining the carousel animals which girded the porch, he was tempted to accuse the empty house and Mrs., Bump and all of Unika, of using and abusing him, deceiving him, because all the Unikai acted as if they knew what was coming, but they had not warned him.

He paused among the topiary bushes, breathing the aroma of the soil and the fragrance of the wisteria, roses and passionflowers. William started toward the house, angry, wanting to announce to Mrs. Bump’s empty bedroom how mistreated he felt.

But he stopped, remembering that other marvelous bedroom, where woodlands seemed to replace walls and the light was the cycle of the sun and moon, twilight and dawn, where Zair had taken him.

William felt a new anguish that he couldn’t remember, had never known whether or not they had become lovers there. She had been so close that evening. The ferocious storm outside had held no evil threat, for William had felt only his warm, passionate desire for Zair’s love.

A menacing distant rumble from the sky brought William back to the present. Then a warning flash of sheet lightning changed his mood. He began sprinting toward Vanir, past the Watching Wood. There was a deep silence as William quietly opened the door of the van, allowing its warm, bookish, oily air to escape. More distant rumbles disturbed the air.

Loki’s box of fortunes glinted with reflections of the lightning among the nephritic, mundane cargo of packs and books and boxes of rocks and notes William continually expanded.

William entered the van as if it were the tomb of an Egyptian scribe. Premonitory shivers made him hope Loki would not hear the engine.

If Vanir were a silent barge, he could float away.

The engine sputtered to life. William hoped again that Loki would allow this escape without harm. William had no idea of the extent of Loki’s powers, but mistrusted every possibility.

William drove as quietly as possible without lights, away from Mrs. Bump’s circus-relic house and the Watching Wood, past the park of circus trucks, into the little glade where he had first seen the marvelous beauty of this Vale of Unika. Now all he could see were the bright Council fire flickering on the near hill and atop the far hill, the steady glow of the Oracle’s flame in the Tholos temple. The cloud now covered the stars and moon completely, plunging William into darkness. He used his flashlight to find the narrow, steep road-ravine, and kept his headlights dark until he was well within the high-walled cleft which was both entrance and exit of the Vale.

Would he be able to return? He made Vanir climb carefully in low gear up the rugged, winding, corrugated passageway. Would he find his strengths? He felt weak, powerless, defeated, rejected and condemned.

But he remembered Octal’s kiss and her confidence in him, and somehow gathered courage to go onward. He thought of Morty, and the ring of rainbow fire glowed softly on William’s finger. William jerked to a stop. He thought he saw the Dragon in front of the van. If it had been, it had gone. No Dragon was to be seen.

Morty? William whispered. A transparent image of Mortimer Dragon giving children rides in Unikaland appeared beside Vanir, and then faded. William shook his head to clear it and let Vanir climb the rest of the way up the narrow road past the new-cut entrance to Unikaland, up to the original entrance gate hidden among trees.

William set the brake and got out to open the gate. The floppy clown shirt reminded him of the frustrations of the Vale and of the Unikai, who didn’t seem to care whether William was either successful or loved, or even here or gone.

He opened the cargo door of the van, putting the Panama inside, so he could take off the long white shirt. The temperature was warmer in the road-cleft than in the Vale and the night air felt good on his bare skin. It would be difficult to find another place where being naked, running and swimming, simply being, were so beautifully important.

William turned around. Frea confronted William, almost challenging him. He admired the beauty of the Unicorn, but respected or feared her power. Frea lowered her gold-tipped horn toward William.

Then William saw in the Unicorn a tall blond goddess who wore a white gown, and a silver, jeweled necklace. Her hair was bound with a circlet of gold. Her blue eyes plunged deeply into William, who felt that nothing could be hidden from her. Then she smiled and both goddess and Unicorn vanished. William sighed, suddenly understanding who the Unicorn was and why she was so protective of Zair. But why did she not protect Zair from Loki?

William remembered finally to dress. He got fresh clothes from his pack, a bright red flannel shirt and dark blue corduroy pants. It might be cool tonight. Then William tried to visualize Zair but he felt blocked, deflected. He tried to call the ring but couldn’t find it on his finger. He shook his head, ran his fingers through his hair and sighed then put on the Panama hat and settled his glasses.

A familiar Whoof, in the darkness made William look around again. He felt, but did not see Rean. He smelled and heard her and his skin tingled, the blood rushed to his cheek as he remembered her sensuality. He had a very vivid memory of her.

Then he felt her breath on his cheek and neck. He raised his hands carefully, and felt her smooth, warm flanks. She blew into his ear just as an enormous crack and flash of lightning scared them both. Rean leapt and cantered away, leaving her image in his mind like a snapshot.

Rean had both aroused and confused William. She wanted him, but for what? Was he only useful as a…? William couldn’t even say the word. He mocked himself, he made fakes and he serviced illusions. He wasn’t full-time material, not in anthropology, nor in anyone’s affection. Even Loki Alecto had merely used William, to enter Unika, William was a reject. Sheet lightning turned even the dark gulch into a setting for William’s defeat and ejection. The gate beckoned. The lightning pointed his way.

With bitter feelings William unhitched the gate, letting it swing away in a gust of wind. The lightning intensified and the air felt hot. William drove Vanir through the gate, when suddenly all was dark and quiet. The hairs on his neck and arms stood stiffly erect.

William closed the gate, hitching the chain onto the giant hasp. Oppression was in the air. The engine of the van seemed to be struggling for life and the heavy, hot air was hard for William to breathe.

He cried. He held onto the gate and sobbed. He thought of all the wonderful creatures he had come to know and to love. He thought of each of the New Unikai he had so enthusiastically modeled, molded and constructed with Augie. They had come to life with the help of the Dragon, whose breath was potent with anima.

William would miss both Unika and Unikaland. He threw out his bitterness and wished all the creatures well, with love and loss overflowing in his heart. And he fervently wished that Loki would be thoroughly confounded.

A mountainous crash of thunder made William cringe; brilliant lightning startled him; and, an instant heavy rain came down on him. He rushed into the driver’s seat of the van, gunned the engine, turned on the wipers and began driving slowly toward the highway. The noise of the rain on the camper top lessened slightly at the intersection of gravel and smooth wet asphalt. William laughed bitterly at the thought that the reply to his wish was so overwhelming.

I wrote a letter, to my Love…

Pentacles Five

part i

Dragon’s Breath

iii

Sardonic Cities

The rain settled down quickly into a lighter patter and the air became cold. While William waited to get onto the highway, dozens of cars raced toward Austin. The rain and the road spatter in William’s headlights seemed like a magic aura around each speeding vehicle. A few cars went the other way. Lights glowed from the nearly-complete shopping center across the highway. William pulled out onto the road at last. Now the rain became a foggy drizzle.

William looked sadly toward the empty parking lot of Unika-land. He couldn’t quite see the great tent. He hoped the New Unikai were safe and dry, resting and getting recharged. He would miss them. A truck horn honked and blared at William, who swerved and had to regain the road from the gravel shoulder. He began to concentrate on the road but he was distracted by the beat of the wipers, which seemed to be criticizing him, William, Wimmur never wins, never wins, never wins… William angrily turned off the wipers. The rain cleared away at about the same time, so only the wet pavement sang to him, Hiss, hisss, hiss.

A purple-red glow in the sky above Austin showed William one possible destination. He had rather camp than go into town, but it was late and a weekend, so it would be hard to find a camping spot.

William also discovered he was hungry. He thought - contrary to his vegetarian principles - about barbecued chicken, fried chicken, blackened chicken, chicken salad and chicken soup. He mentally cooked Loki Alecto in several ways.

Then he grimaced at himself, both from revulsion at the idea of eating an animal and at his distaste for vindictive behavior. He would not displace his frustrations onto an innocent bird. He asked himself what time it was and decided it might be two in the morning. It was certainly after midnight, because of the dance of All-souls and the emergence of the harp-playing Queen of Hel.

William began wondering what eating-places would be open. It was Austin’s favorite holiday, Halloween. People would still be crowding Sixth Street. William decided to try there first. The crowds might change his desperately morose mood for the better.

Luna began peeping through the elephantesque clouds again and the road was dry closer to the city. The moonlight pacified William somewhat. He sent a hopeful, Thank you, to the showgirl in the sky. The street lamps entered into competition with Luna, who paled in their glare. William saw ballooned and streamered cars with howling make-believe ghouls inside. The spook cars flew all around him like the Queen’s bats. He drove through Zilker Park, which was peacefully dark, but when he reached the auditorium area, the road and the walks became more filled with people in bizarre costumes, trying to scare or just impress other revelers. William drove Vanir across the river and parked on Congress Avenue. He pulled the curtains closed, settled his hat and straightened out the cargo area somewhat, in case he had to sleep in the van. He got some of his money from his pack and waited for a lull in the crowd of masques before he got out. He locked Vanir. He felt out of place with neither mask nor costume.

He actually began to enjoy himself, seeing the craziness on the street. There were lots of feather masks.

One man was made up as a Mongol Shaman, beating on a drum and rattling the many iron tokens and ‘bones’ on his costume and chanting in a spirit language. Some Women-cats wore body paint and leotards with tiger-stripes.

Punks were out in force, looking bored and angry at the same time. A woman wore a plastic muscle-torso, jogging shorts and spike heels. William found himself laughing. He looked for a restaurant. The lines outside of the bars and restaurants were discouraging.

Someone in a stuffed-jersey elephant costume danced all around him and then a Fairy Queen tried to get William into a conversation. Most of the people were drunk or stoned, and William was being continually jostled.

Sometimes he thought someone called his name but he could not recognize anyone. A person in a gorilla suit came up and gave William a vociferous hug. grunting, Ugh, Ugh! then trying to throw William over the hairy beast shoulder, for an abduction.

William resisted and the gorilla said, You blew that one, Willie, and scampered off. The voice had been muffled by the mask so William had no idea who it could have been. He looked around warily, about to decide to give up on eating and to go back to the van. But a girl with long blonde hair was falling into the street.

William leaped forward and caught the girl just in time to save her from being run over by a jeep dressed as a banana. The driver honked savagely and squirted seltzer water on the crowd.

William set the girl upright but she stumbled into a light pole. Then she walked toward a trash can and fell limp across it. William picked her up again, only then realizing it was Patty. She had makeup and glitter all over her face in zigzags and she wore several layers of torn tee-shirts and net hose with spangles and strings tied on, and one spike-heeled red, shiny shoe.

Patty! Patty! William tried to get her to respond.

She didn’t even notice him but she began to slide down toward the ground, leaning on William.

He pulled her back up and she lay her head heavily on his shoulder. William walked her slowly, pulling her upright when her legs gave way. She looked blankly out from her daze. She still had her vampire teeth in and her brilliant red lips curled voluptuously about the white fangs. There was no place to set Patty down. A police officer looked quizzically at William and Patty, who managed to produce a Vampire-smile just then. The officer looked away.

William tried shaking her head and patting her cheek and calling her name. He asked if she wanted to be taken home but he succeeded only in getting Patty to look vaguely in his direction. Then she tried half- successfully to bite his neck. She laughed in a high, far-away manner.

William finally got her to the van and lifted her into the passenger seat. He looked for a purse or wallet and found a nylon pouch on a string hidden in her shirts. She didn’t even notice him searching her. He opened the pouch and found a driver’s license with an address. He asked her if she still lived there, but Patty only stared blankly. She licked her lips and drooled. William buckled her in and shut the door, went around to the driver’s side of Vanir and got in. Patty had closed her eyes and relaxed into her seat.

William drove away from the crazy scene, to the expensive apartments near the University where Patty’s license showed that she lived. He hoped for the best. Cars still honked and devils still howled but the noise was abating. Before William unbuckled Patty he got some of Cherny’s herbs from his pack, to make tea if possible at Patty’s place. He got her keys from her pouch, then unbuckled her and lifted her down.

She moaned and giggled and mumbled something as William guided her slowly toward her door, He was glad it wasn’t up the stairs. Her door looked out on a swimming pool, into which Patty tried to walk.

She was quite strong for a little while, pushing toward the pool. William was afraid he would have to rescue her from drowning but eventually he managed to turn her to her door and to unlock the door. She walked in under her own power. William shut the door and guided Patty to a large, many-pillowed divan.

In between the Gamma rays, the ideologies of native artifacts elect a reproductive strategy that priorises, yes? Patty announced, seriously.

William laughed. If you say so, Patty. Her thoughts sounded almost as well organized as when she was sober.

She began a monologue in the same vein. Once she said, Professor Wimmur. William made some herb tea, keeping an eye out in case Patty did anything dangerous. He tried to understand what she said. Sometimes her voice trailed off silently and sometimes she seemed to be arguing with someone. William put an ice cube in her tea mug, to cool the aromatic brew, and then he brought it to her. She looked at him directly for the first time and said, Doctor.

Drink some tea, Patty. You’ll feel better. William encouraged her. Patty smiled with Dracula teeth. William asked, Would you like to take out those, uh, extra teeth you’re wearing?

Patty opened her mouth a bit wider. William bravely took out the appliance, amazed that she did not bite him. He set down the teeth on the end table and held the cup of tea to Patty’s mouth. She stared at him. The tea ran out of her mouth, down over her makeup and onto her shirts. She looked down at the spill. William tried again, holding her chin up. He stroked her throat to get her to swallow.

She began talking more intellectual nonsense. William decided to try taking her makeup off of her. He found cold cream and tissues in the bathroom and hurried back to her. Patty had closed her eyes but she kept talking.

William got most of the paint and glitter off her well-shaped face, built on a long nordic skull. ‘She is really pretty,’ William thought, ‘Especially without makeup.’

He tried to get her to drink tea again with a little more success. Patty alternately stared at William or closed her eyes halfway. William decided to put her to bed if she would go. He was getting tired and needed to find a place for himself. But he wasn’t sure he should leave her unless she went to sleep. Patty wouldn’t or couldn’t stand up so William picked her up, weighty monologue and all and carried her to the frilly, ruffled bed he saw in the other room. Patty clung to his neck.

William set Patty down on the waterbed, but she gripped him firmly by the neck and arm and talked forcefully at him. She mixed all her topics and repeated phrases she wanted him to confirm and she looked somewhat wild. William was very uncomfortable. He managed to sit on the padded edge of the bed and he removed her one spike shoe so she wouldn’t stab the waterbed. She began to be somewhat vociferous, yelling something odd about Kant and Hegel and Nietzsche and she shook William violently. William pried her arm away from his neck but she grabbed his sleeve. She was yelling and someone was pounding on the wall or ceiling.

I wish you would just be yourself, Patty, William objected.

Suddenly Patty was crying and curling up in a ball. Don’t spank me, Daddy, I didn’t mean to, not my fault, no, Daddy, no, please! Please! She let go of one of William’s arms.

He patted her shoulder soothingly, saying comforting things. Then Patty whirled around and clung to William like a child and she whined a terrified whine. William patted and soothed her.

You hurt me! I’m gonna hurt you back! Patty squealed as she began hitting and scratching him.

William controlled her as best he could and kept saying soothing words, trying to break through into her consciousness.

Then Patty changed and laughed at him, made faces and called him, Fake doctor, play doctor, and she mocked him. After more of this behavior than William cared for, she suddenly sat up and put on a seductive face and pose and she put his hand on her breast and screamed. William pulled his hand away with difficulty.

The pounding resumed on the ceiling. William hushed Patty by saying, Sh, sh, it’s all right. Patty, sh, you’re disturbing the neighbors.

Serves them right, Patty said.

How is that? William asked. He was glad to get any coherent response.

Patty took a long time to reply. She relaxed a little. They bump the floor all night long. She grinned and covered her mouth.

Why don’t you lie down and just rest, Patty? William suggested. His own eyelids seemed made of lead.

I type a hundred-fifty, Doctor. Patty giggled. She still had a firm grip on his arm. Her eyes were less staring, more alive now.

Good, Patty. Just lie down. You’re at home. It’s okay.