thorhammer's Pentacle Suit Story
"It is time," decreed the King. His voice was quiet but utterly inarguable. A little reluctantly, he turned his face from his comtemplation of the Moon and the Winter night and stalked off in search of his Queen.
The Queen nodded. She watched her mate walk away, considering the implications. It would all happen, all over again. She knew it was necessary - nevertheless, her kind heart was a little sad, knowing as she did that hardship awaited the Dragon's spirit. She sent for her champion.
Wordlessly, the Knight set forth on his patient horse. The horse knew better than the rider the pace to set. Rider and horse were linked in a mysterious bond so that each had a portion of instinctive wisdom and shared that with the other. The horse would make sure they met who they sought at precisely the right moment.
The wild-eyed, unpredictable Satyr took the message. He laughed, a sound that would have unsettled any but the stolid Knight, and turned, prancing madly off, among his ragtag entourage of shady characters. They had a Dragon to wake.
Ace:
The Dragon, the very Earth enspirited, matter made live, has emerged from his cave. His nature urges him to kindness and an amicable attitude, but he is formless and clumsy with great clawed feet. His attendants, wise, wry imps, take both his innocence and the world's infinite teachings for granted. They know how it will turn out, for they are outside and have a different perspective . . .
Two:
The dragon has learnt the world is cold, but being of the Earth and its timelessness, it does not bother him. He experiments with his new physical limitations. He learns - the hard way - about gravity and momentum, of the physical properties of things, of the need of this new body for fuel to continue its feats of manipulation upon the wider sphere of material Creation. He is good at certain things . . . not so good at others . . .
Three:
He has found something at which he excels. The feeling of bending stone and wood and iron to his will, the feeling of shaping raw material being into what exists only in his mind - the feeling of Creation - is a heady drug indeed. The praise of his betters intoxicates him and he is swept up by a tumbling wave of self-perpetuating inspiration, working ever harder and faster and amassing more skill, praise and wealth, until . . .
Four:
Others now do the work. Somehow, he has lost sight of his inspiration. his hands have no memory of tools now, or stone or wood. They know coins, though, and ledgers. His eyes follow lines ruled on a page and his mind calculates and counts incessantly. He looks over his shoulder - does he hear a sound? Who has come in at this hour? What do you mean, bankrupt? . . .
Five:
It's cold now. He feels it now, far as he has gone from his Source. He has taken others with him. The fire reminds him of the fire that rumbled deep in him so long ago - where is it? Has it been extinguished, irretrievably? But wait - there! In the light thrown by acceptance, his offspring has rekindled their flame. So fragile, it is; she shields it from the cold. He will remember this . . .
Six:
And he does. He has remembered himself at last. his mind is expanded, broadened, to allow for the possibility of give and take. The uneven scales in the Four, which told of his imbalance, are here righted and full. He not only gives succour to those around him - redressing the imbalance brought about by others through no fault of his - he teaches the children about the flow of give and take . . .
Seven:
Time has passed. He has learnt how, in his spirit, to accomodate the material flow back and forth by working with his source - the Earth. He has slowed from the hectic pace set in his early years - lives? His hands remembered the use of tools and he rebuilt. This time, though, he does not mind a little distance. He is happy to contemplate from a few paces away and confident enough in the world to turn his back . . .
Eight:
He is old in this body. How many bodies has he been through? This has been a long, slow lesson. Things move slowly, through Earth. Creation of beautiful things still brings him pleasure, but now he shares it with others skilled creatures and needs no praise from his fellows. Only a couple to go . . .
Nine:
Another body. The dragon has learnt, now, the love and receptivity that bring peace to acquisitive Earth. Feminine understanding courses along his/her nerves. He/she is almost ready to return, but before then, there is work to be done for the creatures. A wider concern tugs at his Spirit. Less evolved creatures are damaging the Being of his Spirit and he feels the pain now, in this compassionate, connected body. . .
Ten:
Many years pass. The dragon is tired. In this body, he has fulfilled his journey. He has become strange. Ancient innocence has returned to his consciousness and he waits at the gate , the final portal, to be returned once and for all to his Source. There is still enough himan consciousness and humour in his mind to experience a twinge of anticipation . . .
\m/ Kat