Priestess of the Fire Temple by Ellen Evert Hopman

Author:Ellen Evert Hopman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Pagan, Cristaidi, Druid, Druidry, Celt, Indo-European, Princess, spirituality, Celtic
Publisher: Llewellyn Worldwide, LTD.
Published: 2012-01-22T16:00:00+00:00

[contents]

20

Alvinn and Coreven were delighted to have their horses and weapons back as we resumed our journey. Lasar seemed to have calmed down a bit; one night in a snug barn with other horses, and apples and carrots aplenty, had reassured him that not all the world was a fearful place. Caur was his usually stoic self, while Bláth minced about and even kicked up her heels. She had been admired, curried, and combed to perfection by the stable boys and seemed to know that she looked gorgeous.

That night, after a simple supper of sausages, apples, and oat bread, we bedded down around the fire. Almost as soon as I lay down in my blankets, I dreamed.

In my dream there was a large white bird. The bird was singing insistently, using her sweet voice to lead me ever onwards, through a thick grove of rowan trees to a little house in the wilderness. I peered inside the yellow light of the open door and saw a woman giving birth. I entered the house and found a silver basin filled with water, sitting on an oaken table. I scooped some water into my hand and placed three drops upon the child’s brow to welcome it to the earth realm. Then I sang to the mother, which caused her milk to gush forth.

The bird lured me outside again with her singing, and this time she told me to go to a particular place.

“Where am I going?” I asked.

“Don’t ask any questions; just go,” she answered.

In the distance I could see a village or settlement of some kind, with smoke rising from every roof tree. There were flocks of sheep and enclosures for chickens and ducks fanning out from the settlement like the petals of a flower. I seemed to be seeing everything from the air.

I landed lightly on the ground, and the white bird told me to take up a holly stick and dig into the earth at a particular spot.

“If you dig here in this field, you will find holy water,” she sang. And then she disappeared.

I awoke with a start, clear headed, remembering the dreams I used to have of the terrible black raven—when I would feel blood coursing down my face from the force of her talons.

That black spirit bird had pulled me forcibly away from Irardacht, a move that I had desperately needed to make. This dream was very different, yet I understood that the white bird was leading me somewhere new, just as the black crow once had. The image of the woman giving birth stayed with me. Perhaps it means a rebirth for me? I thought to myself.

“Thank you,” I whispered out loud to whatever spirit was guiding me.

On the afternoon of the third day, we arrived at a crossroads marked by an ancient standing stone that was covered over with moss and delicate yellow and white lichens. The stone was so old that it listed slightly to one side. There was a faint triple spiral

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