Fire

Orphic Hymn 66 to Hephaestus (trans. Taylor) (Greek hymns C3rd B.C. to 2nd A.D.) :"To Hephaistos, Fumigation from Frankincense and Manna. Strong, mighty Hephaistos, bearing splendid light, unwearied fire, with flaming torrents bright : strong-handed, deathless, and of art divine, pure element, a portion of the world is thine : all-taming artist, all-diffusive power, ‘tis thine, supreme, all substance to devour : aither, sun, moon, and stars, light pure and clear, for these thy lucid parts [of fire] to men appear. To thee all dwellings, cities, tribes belong, diffused through mortal bodies, rich and strong. Hear, blessed power, to holy rites incline, and all propitious on the incense shine : suppress the rage of fire’s unwearied frame, and still preserve our nature’s vital flame."



Urgent drumbeats - frantic among the braying of beast and horn - brought both Dee and I to our feet. It had been a wonderful day, spent for the most part with Dee. Conversation had slipped into that easy give and take, laced with humor, sprinkled with girl talk and spiced with darker paths I found easy to take with her. The edginess and distance were memories of the past and we laughed and smiled through most of the hard work of the day.

Settled upon a crinkly bed of grass, we both bent over handwork - special projects intended to be special gifts upon completions. Dee's was tooled and stitched leather while mine was intricately stitched and beaded pieces. I am not an artist by any means, but I love painting a picture with thread and embellishments, giving life to a shape through subtle variations of color- hues nearly identical save for a hint of darkness or light. Our matched focus was intense, and neither of us realized a thing going on around us.

I blame that for missing the sky - my blissful comfort with a friend coupled with an enjoyable task. When the drums and horns sounded, however, everything changed. Somewhere on the plains I am sure a strip of crafted leather coils beside an embroidered piece, lazily taking in the day. Perhaps they remained untouched by the happening. Perhaps they turned to ash together, taking the effort and beauty to the sky and leaving only the skeletal shell behind.

The sky had turned into one of the wonders of my childhood. When I looked up, hearing all the commotion, I instantly had the memory of my feet dangling over the crooked top railing, my head pressed back firmly against the broad chest of Uncle Dray. On either side of me, more family and friends lined the rough boards of barrier and all eyes stared at the same spectacle. To me it was a wonder. A gift of mother nature that my young years couldn't make sense of yet.
The sky was turned upside down. Thick gray clouds that usually brought storms didn't hover high above, but were now at the bottom of the bowl of the sky. Far in the distance the spikes of crisp grass reached for the topsy turvy world, mixing their blades of yellow green into the yellow orange of the Central Fire. The light of Lar' Torvis was tied down, captured beneath those clouds instead of on top of them. Fingernails of orange reached into the slate sky and kept it upside down. I had wondered then, in curious naivety, if it was raining upside down too.

It never came close - that upside down world. It hung in the distance like a painting on the wall. Many of the men rode out into the odd landscape, returning days later with saddlebags filled with stories and a few injuries. Yama wouldn't let me stay near the gatherings to listen, usually shooing me off to bed or to play out of earshot. I never equated that with the raging terror that was fire.

Until today.

Everything around us erupted into screaming, scrambling, shouting and heat. Dee clasped my hand and tugged, and we quickly joined the frantic movement of Tuchuk and animals. One moment it seemed like there was plenty of time....time to gather up possessions, time to find a loved one, time to prepare. In the next instant all that time was consumed by a fiery breath preceded by the chokehold of smoke.

Run...Dee...Run

Hand in hand we followed the desperate lines of people, wagons, and animals. I was the runner, Dee was not. Countless times I turned back to her, pulling her along with me in some frantic attempt to keep ahead of the monster of heat and terror behind us. Panic soaked every nerve in our bodies, adrenaline rushed crazily through our blood. We clung to each other, calling out faces we recognized as we passed. There was, in both of us, an insane hope to find the faces of those we loved and cherished above all.

In the midst of it all, in the middle of all the screaming, racing people, a voice cried out. It demanded help, it pleaded for it, it had to be obeyed. Dee and I turned to help push a wagon wedged in a rut of stiff mud. Shoulder to rump with the bosk we both tried to jostle it, shake it, move it just enough for the tethered beasts to take over. It all happened so fast. A kailla raced by, clipping Dee and pushing her into the wagon wheel just as a billow of gray swarmed over us both, leaving us gasping for a sip of sweet air. The snap of whip came just as a roar of heat barreled closer, and before my eyes the orange tongues of fire licked at the wood and canvas of the wagon. It hardly seemed real, watching the series of events. The panicked bosk trying to be free of the searing heat, that pulled on the yoke and pitched the wagon to it's side. The woman caught beneath the wedge of wheel, now crushed beneath the weight of wagon bed. The laughing cackling fire that swept through it all as if it were mere kindling. The curl of fingers that reached for me...one...final time.

"She's gone! Run! It's just a slave! Run..Run for your life!"