The Story of Jasmine notes continue:
Jasmine tossed and turned in her sleep, just as she had done every one. This night was the third encampment away from the White Throne Mountain and the last one before turning northward on their journey. It wasn’t that sleeping on the ground was too unbearable, or that there was so little peace between her companions. She was fighting the influence the ring was trying to impose upon her. Try as she may, she could not remove it physically from her finger.
To cope, she hid herself underneath her cloak for most of the three-day ride and trusted the horse under her to manage them both. The horse’s instincts were better than her own ,so she saw no need to impose her will upon the beast. She trusted her ride over her own judgment to react best in its own, familiar surroundings. She was not totally present or anchored in this world and oscillated between the two worlds.
She avoided looking out upon the sunlit landscape. It was the most gloriously beautiful, dazzling and oppressive landscape she had ever seen. The more they traveled, the more she experienced this convulsive beauty.
Jasmine concluded to herself, “If I accept this as valid, it means the ring commands me. If I am not ruled by a man, why would I be ruled by a ring?” She handled the uncertainty by rejecting it’s validity and limiting her senses. Both hiding and hidden underneath the refuge of her cloak, Jasmine meditated during their journey across the plains, all the while concentrating on keeping herself in a bubble, suspended between two realities.
She thought the days were more manageable because the collective sound of hooves crunching upon sandy, rocky ground could not be syncopated. But the nights were another matter.
At night, she heard voices oozing out of the stillness. Always, they addressed her. Until this night, she had successfully eluded focusing on their words. But, this time, she was so tired, she listened. She was greeted by people who seemed not unlike herself. Their features were very fine. All were frantically trying to warn her against taking the north road.
“Travel westward, ” they advised, “Seek the Meeting Place of the Winds and consult.” They identified themselves as the White Faeries, a race of benevolent beings who live in a corresponding world that “inter-penetrates your world.” The White Faeries seemed to be very well acquainted with the details of the Mid-Realm and promised to show Jasmine the best paths to take to avoid mishap. They also told her they were helping, “Because our fates are related and it’s in our best interests to look out for you in this world…”
That comprised the basic message. The heretofore incessant and insistent sounds she had tried to block from her head finally stopped its infernal buzzing. Only after she acknowledged the message did all broadcasts cease. The oppressive atmosphere she’d sensed before was lifted. So did her disposition. Finally, something felt right.
At first light, she succeeded in getting Glynn’s attention and spoke to him about a change of plan.
© 2018 DARLENE