The Stone by the Stream (Part 1)

They told Cynthia the stone had been exposed to the open air many years before.

“Back when your great-grandparents were young,” they said. “When the dam was first built at the edge of town.”

And the little stream still ran laughingly by the little meadow, downstream from the dam and the reservoir and the farmland. The stone that so called to her had been a minor landmark around the village ever since the dam’s construction had disclosed it to the light. Because of its remarkable shape, color, and distinctive luster, particularly around dawn and the twilight hour.

Not to mention that reputable witnesses would now and then claim to see naiads playing in the stream and basking in the sunlight near the stone, or even lying against it to enjoy its cool shade. Not often, mind you, at most once or twice every five or seven years, but still quite enough to set the place apart. More than enough to capture the fancy of a bright young girl with a bright imagination.

“I’ve never seen a naiad before,” Cynthia told one of the acolytes at the Temple of the Huntress.

“They were a common sight before the dam was built,” the acolyte said as she swept the temple’s cracked marble floor. She seemed intent on her task and gave only the barest answers to the girl’s inquiries.

“Why are they so rare now?”

“You can’t expect to see river-spirits where there is no river, child.”

“Where did they go?”

“Not here.”

“Is there something special about the stone in the meadow?”

The acolyte paused in her sweeping and laughed bitterly, a sound that echoed hollow through the temple’s mildewed halls. “How should I know? I just sweep the floors around this wreck. Go petrify one of the priestesses with your stony questions.”

Raising her eyebrows and drawing up her shoulders with crossed arms, Cynthia backed away from the acolyte. What gave her the right to be so brusque with Cynthia? Just because she was old enough to become an Initiate and Cynthia wasn’t?

As she left the acolyte behind, for a moment she considered leaving the temple. What kind of reception could she expect to find after being given a welcome like that? And why did she care so much about the stone and the naiads, anyway? Sure, it intrigued her, but she could hardly learn more here than she could by heading to the meadow herself and using her own eyes.

But then they must know something…

Cynthia headed through the entrance-way into the temple’s musty main chamber. Again the urge to leave assaulted her. The main chamber consisted of four sections of stone seats arranged around a square-shaped altar. Suffocating with moisture, the air combined with a scent of burning incense to give her a lightheaded but not-quite unpleasant feeling. Droplets beaded on the walls and rolled down like so much sweat. The raised altar at the chamber’s center appeared clean, but possessed a faintly pink tinge suggesting generations of sacrificial blood that left an enduring mark.

Pressing on, coughing slightly as she waved clouds of incense out of her way, she moved forward, promising herself she’d leave just as soon as she got a few answers.

In the dim light she could discern a blocked doorway at the back of the chamber. In front of it stood a woman. As Cynthia approached she discovered this woman wore acolyte’s robes, just as the first. She was a few years older than the other acolyte, however, no longer quite young. The roundness of her face and the warmth of her expression suggested an indulgent character, which gave Cynthia hope she might get a better hearing here.

After the customary greetings and pleasantries, Cynthia said, “The acolyte outside said I should speak to one of the priestesses, can I do that now?”

The woman’s expression hardened. “Why did she say that?”

An intuition told Cynthia candor would not help her cause. “I had a few questions she thought someone with a little more knowledge would be better able to answer.”

“Questions…?” the woman asked with a significant expression.

No use hiding it. The other acolyte would tell her soon enough anyway. No need to mention the stone, though. Cynthia said, “I was trying to learn a little more about the clearing where they say you can see naiads sometimes.”

The woman’s kindly face broke into a smile. “Well, I can’t blame you for that, child. It’s a rare sight to spot the spirits these days — out in the open air, at least. It’s a great blessing to be able to see one for yourself. A fearful blessing, to be sure. But a great one.”

“A fearful blessing?”

“Well, you don’t think the spirits that preside over the earth are exactly harmless, do you? They’re not merely human like you or me, after all. It’s wise to be cautious, is all… even if you’re just asking questions about them.”

Again Cynthia felt the urge to turn around and leave. But after a moment’s pause she asked, “So when do you think I can see one of the priestesses?”

“Not now, certainly.”

“Why not?”

“The priestesses do not accept visitors except by appointment.”

“Then can I make an appointment?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Why not?”

“The priestesses only make appointments when they issue the invitation.”

“So I have to be invited to have an appointment?”

“Yes.”

“Then can I request an invitation?”

“No.”

“Well, how does anyone get an invitation?”

Cynthia was by now growing ever-so-slightly frustrated.

The woman shrugged and said, “If it happens, it happens. There are things you can do to make an invitation more likely, of course, but even then there are no guarantees.”

“These priestesses seem harder to win over than the gods themselves!” Cynthia said. “Anyway, what can I do to make an invitation more likely?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why not?”

“Only Initiates are allowed to know that information.”

“But I’m not old enough to become an Initiate!”

The woman shrugged. “Even if you were, it wouldn’t guarantee anything.”