Overture ( Part 2)

Jade woke with tears on her cheeks. She touched them, shuddered as she relived the dream. She’d had this other person invading her dreams intermittently since she was a child. Her lips twisted. She’d always felt an empathy with her dream girl: she too had no real mother – hers, while alive had been too busy to concern herself with a child.

She shook her head briskly. She couldn’t afford to dwell on that aspect of her life.
What had unnerved her was the reference to Elves. Was it a coincidence or brought on by the strange encounter at the Lily Pond?

Restless, she rose. Today she was supposed to go to back the gardens. Making masks was not her first love, painting was and despite the night’s revelation she wanted, had always wanted to paint the Lily Pond. She bit her lip undecided and looked up as light streamed in through her bedroom window. It was daylight. Surely nothing could happen…
‘All right,’ she muttered, dressed then gathered her paints.

She came to the Lily Pond from a different direction, past the conservatory and the Botanic History building. The scent of crushed curry leaves tantalizing the tongue as she stopped in front of it. She set up her small portable easel and methodically arranged her paints. Once her brush touched the canvas she forgot everything else.

It was the strong smell of earth that eventually broke Jade’s concentration. She looked around to see one of the gardeners in a bed nearby turning the soil. It’s musty tang filled her with an urgent compulsion to bury herself within its richness. She swallowed. Turned away quickly. It was time to pack up. She placed the painting in a special sleeve inside her bag along with the easel. Hooked it over her shoulder and walked back down the grass.

She went through an avenue of Needle Pines and came out near the lake. Sitting on a seat feeding the ducks was Daniel. Her steps slowed, she felt a flush rising as he turned and saw her. Smiling ruefully she joined him.
“I’m sorry about last night – I came down with a migraine and had to leave.”
“ Fair enough,” he said eyeing her steadily enough, but there was an impression of banked fires simmering underneath. She stiffened slightly and he sat back, eyes veiled. “Want to share? “ and gestured to the ducks.

She felt his withdrawal and relaxed a little. “I’m about to get some thing to eat. I’ve been painting.” He looked at the large bag under her arm.“ Do you mind if I have a look at it before I go back to work?”
She hesitated. He gazed back at her steadily. She sighed. “O.K. If, you want to. I’ll be back in a second,” and she walked to the kiosk, clenching and unclenched her hands around the strap of her bag. Why had she agreed? She didn’t usually show anyone her paintings until they were finished. She shook her head, annoyed by his influence over her.

She bought a sandwich and went back and sat down.
“Where do you work?” she asked, munching.
“I teach at the Elder Conservatorium so I often come down here for lunch but I haven’t seen you here before though.”
“I’ve been away, painting in Tasmania.”
“And is this new painting for another exhibition?”
“Yes.” And he looked expectantly at her. Reluctantly she dragged the painting from her bag, wondered why she allowed herself to do so. She drew in a ragged breath too conscious of Daniel beside her, then the world righted itself as she focused on her painting. The colours, leapt off the page, steadied her and gave her back some modicum of control. She touched the painting lovingly and heard Daniel sigh. His eyes were riveted on the painting and around him glowed a golden light.

It reminded her of the dream. Her throat went dry. She looked down, paralysed. A hand touched her arm. She looked up. “I’ll have to go,” Daniel said and the light faded. He gestured to the painting, “It’s coming along beautifully. When will you be finished?”
“I’m not sure.”
“ But you’ll be back tomorrow?” and didn’t attempt to disguise his interest.
“ Yes, of course,” but she smiled distractedly.
He gave her a searching glance, hesitated, then nodded and left her.

Unsettled, Jade packed up her gear and walked back through the gardens. As she did so, the shimmer of another garden overlay her senses; an image of great trees singing with life force. She’d had similar experiences before, a tugging toward another place, but this time it was much stronger. Her skin prickled as she walked through the strand of Needle Pines and suddenly she fell into blackness, spiralling and then, with a terrifying swish was inside another body.

It was moving. She felt disorientated, alien, then looked down to see hands. They were long and thin, beautifully tapered. Her arm was covered in an exotic fabric of shimmering green-blue. Then she was looking up, focused forward and there before her was a Lake. It beckoned:

It was midnight and the moon above cast a silvery crescent in the water. She stepped from the trees and felt the first shudder of power reach out. It claimed a side of her that had been suppressed, but also that which she’d yearned for – power, steeped in the ways of mortal bindings and their worship of the Goddess. And they’re within the lake – ‘The Lady.’

Its was painful, this coming to awareness. She nearly drew back but there was a hunger in her that couldn’t be denied. She’d studied her father’s cryptic clue and was here now, to find out what she believed was true – that The Lady of the Lake was her mother.

She moved slowly until she reached the very lip of the lake. She looked into its still waters and concentrated. As its water lapped around her feet she felt fear and a sensual lure. She was up to my chin, drew a deep breath then dived down, into the deep and was engulfed, came to the realization that she was expected to give – everything of herself – and could not – would not give up her heritage. Then she was drowning.

She woke as a strong arm turned her on her side. She coughed and spilled water from her lungs, turned and saw a figure limed in light. She squinted.
“Are you all right my lady?” a voice said and she jerked upright then swayed.
“Steady,” and his voice was smoothly rich and calming.
She looked up and into the eyes of the knight, the one she’d glimpsed. He pulled her up carefully until she was standing. She was wet through, her clothes clinging to her but he looked at her face, intent, studiously ignoring her dishevelled state.
“Who are you?” she croaked.
“Sir Galahad.”
She looked back behind at the water and felt humiliation.
“You were floating on top,” he said and there was no censure in his gaze only a deep well of empathy. It was unsettling.
“I thank you for your rescue. I tripped and fell in.”
He nodded. “My horse is nearby by. Where should I take you?”
“My home is not far. I’ll be all right,” she said and started walking. He caught her arm.
“Are you sure – my Lady?”
She stopped. He had helped her – saved her perhaps and knew an almost irresistible urge to let him take her home but – she could not – dare not.

He frowned. “Are you sure we have not met? I have come through this way before, with King Arthur and Sir Lancelot, my father.”
She stiffened. Was that why she was drawn to him?
He waited patiently, eyes a clear, crystal blue that gave her access into his soul, the beauty and the passionate purity of it. Her knees weakened.
Sir Galahad took her hand and raised it to his lips. “I am ever at your service,” he said simply and it was those words that finally brought her to her senses. She was an elf. He was mortal and related to Lancelot.
“Thank you again, but I will be all right.”
“As it pleases you,” he replied and she walked away. Just as she reached the edge of the trees he called out and she looked back at him. “May I at least know your name?”
“Leiyana,” she whispered.

Jade returned to herself abruptly. Leiyana. The name she used on her paintings and the elf girl from her dreams. God. What did it mean? And felt that other soul getting closer, clearer almost as if… and frightened she hurried back to her car. It was parked next to the park across from the gardens and as she stowed her easel in the boot, had put it down when a light flittered amongst the Morten Bay figs. She held her breath. The light remerged further across the park.

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