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Save Point: Standing Stones

What reasonable person would take a three-hour walk in the soggy, misty morning, just to view a not particularly impressive stone circle in the middle of nowhere that no-one had seen before?

Well... no sane person would, but he's going to get his value for money, aye, and so he's coming along. And he's not the only one there of course, on the tour, and there's the guide and all that, most of them are perfectly normal folks, but there's these two really strange people who've come along and he's really not sure why. They seem to be tourists and speak English right proper, eh, even more'n he does, but with a really strange accent that he can't quite place. One of 'em said something about being from New Zealand, but that accent really isn't right, kind of like something slightly South American or similar. Maybe they're part Brazilian or some-such?

The girl is hot, she's blonde, totally fit, gotta be at least six foot tall. And damn, those green eyes and long elegant lashes, that tawny tanned skin. Only word he can come up with for her is feline, like a gorgeous tall kitten in human form. Can't quite seem to place her ethnicity, not quite white, too far from black, like she's Asian or something. Amazing white perfectly capped teeth.

The guy he can't understand either. What's a hot piece like her doing with such an average guy, at least two inches shorter than she is? The two of them are clearly close, like friends with benefits every night type close, but he's far from handsome, kind of dark around overly intense eyes, but otherwise nondescript. Maybe he's got loads-a-money and she's his mistress?

Still can't place why a rich mans mistress would be up for a three-hour hike in the morning. You'd think she'd be getting those long, sharp nails done, drinking champagne.

And then when they finally get there, after all that, it's not really a very impressive stone circle at all, no Stonehenge, just a bunch of rocks laid out in an oval with a bunch of grass in the center. A conspicuous absence, like, same as that thing he read in the paper.

The girl goes cheerfully nuts, hugs the guy and then dashes out into the exact center of the space and starts spinning around with her arms out, like she was a kid or summat, playing that game where you spin about until you get dizzy and fall over. Only it takes her a really long time to get dizzy, and she's breathing hard and staggering all over the place before she finally falls down and stares up at the sky. The guy goes over and sits next to her, and she grabs his hand and pulls it down hard on one of those fine, firm breasts, so he can feel her heartbeat. Lucky sod.

The guide seems a bit disapproving but starts her spiel, all about the newly rediscovered history of the place and how there was a battle here once. Very mythic sort of a battle, apparently, lots of guys in armour and stuff fighting each other and then a dragon knight who fought everyone and killed them all. Thousands a' years after the stone circle was actually built, of course, but there are graves all about, except inside the circle itself, low mounds all over the surrounding country.

The council archaeologists have dug'em up and found the remains with sword cuts on the bones and shattered skulls where maces hit them. It must have been a truly thrilling battle, blood and limbs everywhere. Why, it practically makes you breathless just thinking about it!

~*~

"How could I ever forget that battle? Near the end of the day, the Dragon Of Shadow took to the field. We never found out exactly what it was, actually. It certainly looked like a dragon but it wasn't from around here, oh no sir. Supposedly it claimed to be fromsomewhere else.... as in other than this world. But we never saw it again after the fight was over.

"In the middle, where the worst fighting had been, there was literally a ring of corpses, all of them radiating outward from a central space that was completely empty. It was the only piece of untouched dirt on the entire field. The bodies went outward for a distance of several hundred feet or more. Some of them must have already been dead but they'd pretty much been been killed a second time by whatever happened.

"We didn't ask any questions. We were too damned tired for that, and everyone who survived had been wounded at least once. We slept, and then we dragged the remains into a huge pyre and set fire to it with anything we could find, just to make sure.

"But sometimes, I ask myself....what was it, really? Why was it so conveniently there and willing to fight in our defense? I can't help but wonder if perhaps it knew more than it was letting on, or if it perhaps had more responsibility for what happened than anyone ever knew. But more importantly, what I wonder is this....

"Will it be coming back? And if it does, will it be on our side?"

~*~

What reasonable person would take a three-hour walk in the soggy, misty morning, just to view a not particularly impressive stone circle in the middle of nowhere that no-one had seen before?

Well... Cleo would, thinks Terrowne, because she's come with him on the tour and he has yet to hear any complaints. He watches as she spins around happily at the very center of the circle, arms outstretched and looking outward to the sky, a dance or summoning or child-game that ends with her falling over, flat on her back, staring up into the morning light.

Breathing hard and smiling like laughter.

He sits down next to her, at the center, and she takes his hand, heart beating in its usual strange triple-time rhythm under her skin.

The stones are not that impressive, true, but this far up toward Scandinavia they shouldn't exist at all. Up here you get barrow tombs and other ancient structures, not stone circles, and the low triangular Dragons Teeth that protrude from the ground are carved with complex patterns, swirls and circles, a ward against something that happened here once, constructed long after its original time, using knowledge of ancient customs long forgotten everywhere else. It's about as recent as a stone circle can be and still be the real thing, not just some reproduction of the past. Of course the archaeologists are excited.

The guide, rangily muscled and statuesquely nordic in her bleached-blonde way that is the exact opposite of Cleo's richly coloured mane, tells her tale of death and woe about the battle rendered here, made somehow sparse by time and a lack of details and too much speculation. The annoying British tourist who has been hanging about blustering daftly throughout the whole trip relishes every word, naturally, practically salivating over all this death and mayhem, and also of course the good-looking tour guide who is more conveniently unattached and less inaccessibly exotic.

"You know, if there really was that much death and carnage here, isn't it kind of wrong to try and bring it back?" Terrowne objects. "If you really truly believe that places have a memory, then surely some things deserve to be forgotten? It was thousands of years ago. Shouldn't we just let it lie, and let the grass grow over it, until even the memory is gone?"

The tour guide is clearly preparing some sort of rejoinder about the importance of knowing their history and the preservation of their priceless ancient culture when she sees the look in his eyes and finds herself at a loss for a response. There is an anger there she fears to answer.

Cleo interrupts before it can go any further, grasping him by the shoulder and levering herself to her feet, still panting joyously a bit, wobbling slightly as she regains her balance. It takes a lot to put her off her stride, and just as long to regain her co-ordination, because there's so much more of it to restore. He helps her up and she gives him a hug.

"The view is beautiful here," she tells the guide, deeply sincere, working the words into a totally unspoken apology with her speechcraft. "I think it was well worth the walk."

The tourists wander around taking their photographs of the stones and completely ignoring the stunning scenery that is all about, while the British idiot seems to have found a stick somewhere and is playing at sword-fighting with a series of moves that would get him killed instantly whilst uttering trite phrases such as 'have at them!' and 'tally ho!'. Meanwhile, in the empty space at the center of the circle, Cleo and Terrowne, quietly facing one another, their foreheads pressed gently together, eyes closed and arms around one another, disregarded except by the tour guide, who has already decided that there is something uncanny about these two and they could bear having an eye kept on them. Obscure local words for an assortment of mythical creatures of various sorts keep flitting through her head for some reason.

Wisely, it is a mystery she has no intention of further investigating. When it is time to continue the two of them look deeply into each others eyes and catch their breath, then follow her onward as though nothing has happened. There are other places than this.