F is for Fulgurite

Fulgurite is a natural glass that has been formed by the four elements, in lightening.

Naisha Ahsian describes Fulgurite in her book “The Book of Stones” with Robert Simmons as:
“A cardinal storm element stone. It carries the energy of pure lightening captured in a moment within a matrix of molten silica. As the silica reforms it aligns its structure with the energy of the lightening and freezes that instant power in time, making it manifest on the earth.”

Fulgurite

This gave me quite strong imagery of such an ancient power, made up of the four elements, all frozen in time. Everything. All life. All knowledge. In one weird looking tube like crystal.

It is, to me, such a beautiful, intriguing and unique stone that it deserved to be tucked into a story somewhere. And, I’m so, so very sorry it’s a long one!

 

 

“Alys unwrapped the silk cloth with care, the fulgurites that had been fashioned into three needles were unusually thin, and the very nature of the crystal was brittle making them fragile pieces of equipment.

Yet, the most important of all.

Cole was stirring the sticky black substance over a fire and the smell of it made him gag. It reminded him of when he first came to Agnistead, so weak and unsure as to whether he had been captured by his enemy or had been delivered by death to the next world. Being wrong on both counts, he was offered instead, a new life. Nevertheless, he would never become accustomed to the potent stench of this fire medicine.
Emeline smoothed out some of the shingled land and sandy earth around them, and etched out a circle. She called upon the Guardians of each quarter in turn, requesting protection for the three of them as they entered into the domain of spirit and asked to be transported into the other dimension; one of secret things and hidden knowledge.
Her voice trembled, yet she felt so sure of her duty here. After all, Volva had told her what must be done.
They stood for a moment in silence, each of them could feel the vibration of Emelines actions.
Cole handed over the bowl to Emeline, and, dipping her finger into the tar like mixture, she placed it into her mouth. Alys did so next. As she passed the bowl back to Cole, he noted that even Alys, a native of the south, couldn’t stand the stuff either and this made him smile. A grimacing smile at that, as he tasted the foul stuff himself. 
He guessed you just never get used to it.

Then he started to laugh. A little at first, then a lot.

Uncontrollable, he felt as a child again, running through the forests with his brothers playing seek the hidden.

And isn’t that what they were doing: seeking something that was hidden. He opened his mouth to share his thoughts with her, but she was laughing too.

“I know what you know” She laughed hard then.
Cole laughed even more, her voice was slow and awkward, her mouth formed each and every syllable with precision.
“Aiieee nnn-oowww whaaaaaat yooooooou nnn-oowww” His own actions were just as slow as hers. Everything slow.

Cole saw flashes then, in his minds eye, of a little girl with jet black hair and amber eyes, staring at a baby wrapped in green and golden blankets, a flash of red hair and a pale face looking back out at her. Blinking up. He was viewing memories, not of his own, but of Alys’s past.

Then he saw Ellen. It was Ellen holding the babe, giving her to the Desert Chieftain. He stopped laughing as he realised what he was seeing. Alys stopped laughing too. They turned to look at Emeline. And by the look on her face, she had witnessed the same vision, the same memory.

Ellen had delivered the child to Agnistead, she hadn’t killed her after all.

Emeline, this one eyed girl with pale skin and red hair, was Maels daughter.

He had fathered a wytch and tried to have her killed.

Sand whipped around them, they stood in stillness in the eye of a tornado. Blurs of sand and dust flew from under their feet, around them in spirals over their heads.
“Now.” Emeline screamed at them over the noise the storm was creating.

“We have to do it now.”
Alys passed a needle to each of her friends.
With the sharpest end of the fulgurite, Emeline inserted it into her wrist, just above the thumb on her right hand. The vein allowed the needle in and the blood flowed easily out and down the tiny tube.
Cole and Alys followed suit. A steady stream of their blood mimicked the swirling of the sand around them and the three streams met forming one, red spiral.

Time stood still.

Head thrown back, Emelines hair billowed out in a halo of red, her eyes were closed and cheeks flushed, full pink lips slightly parted.
Alys, looked to be in mid jump, her jet black hair whipped up in a tail behind her, eyes and mouth wide in laughter, thoroughly enjoying the ride.

Cole in contrast was neither in the throes of ecstasy or hilarity. He was in a twisted and contorted position. Acid burned at his throat, his stomach had just started to push the contents of dinner up his body. Here he was, frozen in time, about to puke.

First they were moving slowly, then they were frozen, paused.
The outside world seemed beyond time, moving at a pace that was dizzying. Sands lifting them, carrying them, to a different time and space altogether.”

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About Saxton-Corner

I write. I read. I am the Queen of procrastination. I drink tea. I laugh. I play Xbox. I am. View all posts by Saxton-Corner

4 responses to “F is for Fulgurite

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