Red Solstice (Alfheim Book 1) Read online

  We have a coffee and make small talk before John leaves to start his shift. Hilda has a medium sized outbuilding and this is where we are going to start our lessons for today. The back garden has a decent lawn but also a well stocked vegetable patch and some sheds. In one these the chickens are out in their run section pecking at bits and pieces. It all looks so normal. Everything looks so normal but I no longer feel normal. It is as if I had grown up believing I was a marigold only to find out I was a cactus. Yeah I know that is a weird way to express it but it is a damn weird feeling to be having.

  Hilda's outbuilding is brick built with a proper tiled roof and inside it has bookshelves with some strange looking books and an assortment of candles and other things with witchy connotations. Still no visible cauldron and definitely no skulls or ravens, I start to giggle again turning it into an embarrassed cough.

  She pushes me hard on the protective circle thing, until at least I can see why she wants me to make it almost an instantaneous reaction and I applaud that because I need to be able to do it. It is all I have to truly protect myself. She has given me a word that will raise the protective circle and this I can do just using the word Orbis to raise a bubble around me so it is like being in a protective shell, and this will hold him off and also any other of his kind, although no one will tell me what his kind actually is. I am working really hard there and learning as much as I can to be free and safe but I really do want someone to tell me what is really going on.

  Turns out Aylsa, who appears in the afternoon, has a talent I did not expect. Many years ago, well three of them to be specific, I took kick boxing lessons and it seems that Aylsa is a black belt who teaches this and other martial arts. I wonder if I should tell my brother as he regularly practices kick boxing himself. Aylsa has soft dark ,blonde hair. She really does look like a girlie girl and it is strange to see her in her martial arts kit as it is such a contrast to the smart dresses and skirts that I associate with her. However she is a real mean toughty when it comes to martial arts so I would not like to underestimate her in any situation. She is a few years older than me. I thinks she said she was twenty two which is four years more than my eighteen, however she does not make me feel like I am just a silly teenager as many of the older girls do. Mind you I think they only treat me like a pain because I am part of the band and they would so so like to be in my place.

  She takes me out back and we go through some gruelling exercises to try and reawaken my meagre knowledge and hopefully extend it. We must have put in a couple of hours before the wind rises and rain clouds gather. There is the long throaty sound of thunder rolling some distance off and then a cloud burst hits us. I am beginning to feel exhausted from all this activity so I welcome a break where I can soak in a bath and prepare for this evening. Hilda has some aromatherapy oils so I add lavender to my hot water and boy does it feel good.

  On Friday before the main set, my younger brother Ben and I do an acoustic gig. He plays guitar or violin and I have a mandolin, and we sing old English folk songs, and occasionally sneak in a new one as well. Not the usual ones but the more freaky, as they seem to be what the regulars prefer. The whole things lasts just thirty minutes with then a thirty minute break before the main set. Ben really enjoys it, he is more of a true musician than John and he can turn his hand to a variety of instruments despite being only sixteen. I just love the complex melodies and the sometimes racey content. This night I am using some numbers from Mr Fox and the firsts main lyrics concern a shape shifting bird called “The Gay Goshawk”. By “Gay”, they are not saying that the bird is only interested in its own sex but the poetic gay from the Middle Ages which means more happy or full of energy. I always sing the first line “A gay goshawk came to my window sill” with my eyes shut as I imagine the scene in my head, and when I open them, there he stands, safe in his jacket. His eyes fixed on me as if they are boring into my soul, it's heady stuff and my voice falters before picking up the rest of the verse and the one following. Ben has noticed I can tell from the way his eyes flicker first to me and then out into the audience. His voice picks up the third verse, and I allow myself to ease back into the set. After all there is not much he can do to me whilst I am on stage and the crowd is with me which I admit makes me feel quite cocky at first. Hilda taught me how to close my defence system down tight but music seems to open it slowly, surely and inevitably. I appear to myself to be growing languid, pliable and I am grateful when the set ends and I can make a break for the back stage area. John, Harve and the other guys are out there just chilling and John looks up as I arrive, his face taking in my expression and putting two and two together. He jumps up from the barrel that has been his seat and heads towards the stage, Ben following me places his hand on John's arm. “It's okay,” he says, “the guy has gone for the moment”.

  I slump down on the barrel and pick at my sleeve, nervously. Harve mutters something about a good hiding. He has muscle on his muscle from the drum playing and equipment loading. I let out a laugh which eases the tension and shake my head. I can imagine what Harve could do to our skinny friend. John shuts his eyes to show he is thinking. He always does this when a problem confronts him so I am not totally surprised when he says “okay, you can go and stay with that Hilda for the time being. I can take over the vocals and maybe Ben could stay on and do some backing.” Ben grins in agreement.

  “What about my clothes ,” I throw out to the room in general. The guys laugh at that and John continues, “We will get some to you tomorrow, okay?” I mutter darkly about press gangs and bullies but in fact I am relieved far more than I can say.

  I am back at Hilda's and Aylsa is happy because my brother has brought me there and she is talking to him in a low voice just out of my earshot. Well what ever turns them on say I but I wish it was not so behind my back. To be honest they would suit each other as both of them have similar values although you might not see that if you saw him in his stage gear. He could do with a permanent lady and also one who would make a great wife and mother. I snigger at the thought but I hope it does work out for John at least. The more this harassment goes on the more angry I am becoming and I do know that makes me difficult to deal with. Hopefully Red will get the message and leave me alone but then part of me hopes he won't leave me alone. It is not a good place to be.

  Dreaming Saturday 17th

  I selected a book from Hilda's collection that she thought might benefit me and with this in mind retired to bed to read in peace. Part of me is having a really hard time trying to get my head round some of the concepts but others feel easy and there are a few items that I feel are over explained, as if the author was deliberately trying to throw the reader of the scent. I jotted down little bits where I thought a short cut might be better than going all round the houses. I must have enjoyed this study thing because before I realised I was asleep still propped up with the book and sunlight streaming in through the curtains yet again. Only trouble with too much physical practice and the additional mental stimulus is I am ravenous. I really must get some shopping in for Hilda before she is left with an empty larder. To this end I suggest that I go to the market in the town square this morning. Hilda has things to do but Aylsa is very happy to accompany me and after numerous eggs and bacon we set off, I have an ulterior motive as well as food shopping in that I want some coloured ribbons for my plait. I can't trust my brothers to remember the niceties of my dress code.

  We are carrying two large wicker baskets courtesy of Hilda's pantry and Aylsa has a shopping list. It is nine am and the market is still setting up in places but the butcher is up and running so I go there to buy a large piece of gammon and some stewing steak. Aylsa is after fish and then some exotic vegetables. They make their own bread and do not need any herbs as these are also home grown. It is all quite exciting, and I add a bottle of wine from one of the traders stalls. I find the stall that sells ribbons and interesting lace and spend a happy ten minutes or so bargaining with the proprietor. We are enjoying a very naughty flirtation
when a young boy comes over to me and hands me a lovely white rose. Without thinking I say thank you and place it in my basket convinced it comes from one of my flirts. I wink at the ribbon man and say, “Hey you have competition”. He laughs and we part company. Aylsa joins me at this point and we are giggling about the attention we are getting. It does you good sometimes to feel you are a desirable woman but hey to the traders all women from sixteen to seventy are fair game! I shall miss the gig tonight at the Docks when they send over all the beers to show their appreciation. We are still exchanging jokes as we visit the dairy and I buy some butter and milk, although I cannot drink milk I can have it in cooked meals so I am trying to show I acknowledge their needs as well as my own. It is almost eleven before we arrive back and start unpacking. Hilda is interested in what we have done and seen and also grateful for what we have brought back. I laughingly toss the rose to her and say how it came to me but she stiffens and suddenly I realise there is more to this gift than I had light heartedly imagined. I assure her that I had not smelled the rose, although I was certain it was innocent but I cannot deny that one thorn had penetrated my finger. I do not remember much else but it appears that before lunch I had passed out, and they had placed me in the living room on the sofa.

  I am lying on a moss covered bank close to a slow flowing stream, above me sparkles of sunlight are breaking through the canopy of early spring leaves. Something soft and floaty covers my torso and thighs I reach down and touch smooth silk hanging loosely around me like a kimono held together with a strip of the same fabric. The colours look like a water colour that has somehow run a little, and I am totally amazed at the strength of this vision because vision it must be as I do not own anything like this and I distinctly remember putting my jeans and T shirt on earlier. Where ever this dream came from it is indeed a master class in artistic imagination. I raise my head and lean on my right elbow. I see him standing about six feet away from me, at first just looking at me as if I am something desirable. He moves towards me slowly and purposefully. He is naked and I am aware that what appears slim is in fact rippling muscle. I do not fear his approach. I ought to fear it as he means me some form of harm, if, if I am to believe the others. He kneels down next to me and his hands cup my face pulling my head up to meet his and I feel his lips soft and insistent. It is the most incredible kiss. I feel as if I am melting in to him, fusing my psyche into his so we are one, a brilliant, seductive fusion of one as if I had finally found that which I had long forgotten was missing, and his hands run gently and urgently down my body, one cupping my left breast. I cannot help myself. I moan and push myself towards him. My legs parted and raised to wrap themselves around his waist. I grab his buttocks so firm and muscular and moan again as he thrusts into me over and over, and waves of passion take me so high I want to explode. I can hear voices. This is not fair. The voices are jabbering away calling my name and they are dragging me back away from this amazing pleasure. I protest screaming “No, no” and try to fight them off but they are insistent and I am suddenly awake attempting to open the front door against the combined efforts of Hilda, Aylsa and Truthy. It is a bit if a shock not to mention a great disappointment. Luckily I really am in my jeans and T shirt.

  There is not much I can say and I certainly do not want to tell them of my dream. I am completely bewildered as if I have had a shock of sorts. My head is spinning a little and my legs want to give way. Hilda is genuinely concerned and blaming herself but it is not something that anyone would have expected and I am surprised that neither of us saw him lurking in the crowd. It was cunning as well to chose a white rose as I would have run a mile from anyone offering a red one. They have me seated in the kitchen and whilst Truthy pours black coffee into me at a fast rate. The others do a quick tour of the lane. There is no sign of him and we have no way of estimating how far from the house I would have been drawn anyway. Everything is getting to me and I suddenly find myself bursting into tears. Poor old Truthy gets her second shock of the day. She is so used to me being the strong one.

  I have known Janice since we were seven. There are just six months between us. I guess I have always been the more adventurous, within the limits that my brother John set. She has always been a bit of a dreamer and likes to write poetry which is just a little sloppy but she can be great fun. We have survived her numerous crushes on the local boys and even my brothers. These days Benjamin and her are more like brother and sister than I think she had secretly hoped, but to be totally honest, I do not think they would have worked as anything more. If pushed I will admit she does better than me academically and we both take the creative writing class at college where we are rivals to the last. My poetry is really good but she can spin a story that is a knock out. She got her nickname through some of the taller tales she used to tell when we were growing up so Truthy she has remained and I don't think she liked the name Janice much anyway.

  Like me she lives in jeans although usually these are complimented by quite feminine tops. Not tacky but showing just enough cleavage to get the boys looking. Unlike me she is still a virgin, which would probably come as a shock to her family who long ago decided she was as alley cat as myself. Yes she is a bit of a follower, but hey not to that extent. When I thought of the future and the part she might play in it, I hoped that she made it out of the town and maybe went to a university because she certainly needed more than the town had to offer.

  There is a loud knock at the door during all this and finally John and Ben are there with my clothes. Hilda brings them up to speed with the events of the day so far and John has to be talked out of going off on a fruitless search for Red. To be honest I would worry more for his safety than anything else at this point in time as I feel as if I am dealing with someone whose abilities far out stretch anyone I have ever met.

  Aylsa suggests that I spend an hour or two honing my kick boxing skills and John offers to join us so we set up on the back lawn and I get a thorough if ruthless work out which actually makes me feel good on more levels than one as I can see a friendship blossoming between Aylsa and John. I then have the pleasure of another long soak in the bath with scented oils and a welcome change of clothes. Admittedly jeans and yet another T shirt, but clean ones. Then the boys offer to go and get a pizza for us all and I get to have a whole one for myself which borders on paradise.

  Hilda wants to take me through some more paces this evening and as the boys are heading out to their gig, they suggest that Aylsa and Truthy might like to join them. Two more enthusiastic groupies I have never seen as they all go forth.

  I had jotted down notes about ideas that had begun to form in my head relating to sound and how colours vibrate trying to link all this together with auras and other things that had been in her books. I had managed to leaf through another couple whilst having my bath and consuming the pizza. Not much had really made sense but I just felt on the verge of something that was huge and all I need is the ability to communicate some of it to someone like Hilda who might be able to make head or tail of where my mind was taking me. I could see that the complex rituals and patterns in the books were just tools to focus the mind clearly and I felt that this must be why she had wanted me to meditate in the first place so that I could clear myself of all negative and unrelated thoughts. However, I did not have time to fully absorb the rituals so that they were all tight in place before Wednesday night . It would take years at the pace the authors seemed to want me to travel and my time had somehow become too precious to accommodate them. So, I am attempting to explain theses ideas and feelings to Hilda and she at first looks bewildered and then appears to grasp some of the principles I am playing with. I explain to her that what I need is to make a chart that links between the odd ideas and what she knows can be achieved and that is what we set out to do for the evening.

  We end up with sheets of paper pinned to her outbuilding walls for ease of movement as we need to establish an order for them first. I have told her how music seems to open doors inside me that need to be saf
ely bolted in place from the likes of Mr Red and this reminds her of something that she read a long time ago about how the people could use music to enchant or even kill. I cannot see how it could kill but certainly some does tend to drain a person and lullabies send babies and small children to sleep. It is definitely a mood shaper in its own right so maybe it could be subverted in a more magical sense. I have heard of great musicians influencing theatres of people and at least one composer that caused a riot when his music was played. Even in our small way we influence the people that come to hear us and I know when the crowd is with me because I can feel the emotion quite tangibly in the air, although I am not certain how I know this and maybe I should ask the others what they feel on stage and compare it to my feelings. I just know for myself that I can get an amazing buzz from the crowd that are there listening to us and this seems to give what I am doing more energy. Like I am reaching out to them and they are reaching back so we are suddenly something bigger. I can sense in some way this is all important to what I need and also that it should be familiar, because it feels familiar, but like a headless chicken I cannot fathom why or how. I am growing more and more frustrated with myself. I start systematically going through Hilda's books and putting markers in on any pages that relate to music and sound. There are not many in the actual magic manuals, apart from where you need to say certain words numerous times with rising volume, but I do identify quite a few in the ones concerning religions and their practices and also some connected to healing. First it is best if I separate these out and then they can be added to the wall of ideas to see if and where they fit.