I am Ran son of Dahan, master stonecutter. This is my stone. Deeply rooted in the earth, it still stands twice my measure, broad as my outstretched arms, and thicker than the width of my shoulders. In the summer sun, by moonlight, or shrouded in clinging fog, it stands here patiently, waiting to cast its true shadow at midsummer's sunset.

I.

The stonecutters of our village had been working for decades on a project to cut large stones, much larger than any of the blocks or panels that we quarry for commerce. Many years ago, Jossen the Loremaster had commissioned the master, my father, to assemble a crew of stonecutters and carve those monstrous pieces, which would be dragged away, one by one, by scores of men to a place far away. The work was slow; a single stone required three or four summers of careful cutting before it finally broke free from the quarry wall.

When a stone fell away and was dressed, Jossen would visit us with remarkable promptness to arrange for it to be dragged away. He was a fascinating man, very long in years, and full of knowledge about the land and peoples. When he visited us during my boyhood, Jossen would always insist that I start working with my father. Any time was a good time, by his reckoning, for a strong lad to learn a trade. And so it came to pass.

I grew to manhood as my father's helper, bringing refreshment and news to the quarry wall where he spent his days. I watched as he struck flakes from the edge he was forming. I listened as he spoke of the stone's ways. My hands grew callused as he taught me how to cut and smooth the unyielding surfaces. I was looking on when his nearly-finished piece unexpectedly broke away from the quarry wall and toppled over, crushing him.

The stone survived the fall. Our comrades helped me lever it up. I gathered my father's remains and we placed him under turf, with his tools, on the hillside across the cartway from the quarry. It then became my task to complete his work.

Jossen visited our village shortly thereafter. Somehow he received word of my father's death, and was there to offer guidance to a group which had suddenly lost their leader. He saw the fresh flat surface of my father's last stone, seemingly more perfect than Nature alone could contrive, and declared that it should 'greet the rising sun'.

I was mystified. It had never occured to me to ask my father about the purpose for those large blocks we were quarrying, nor did he volunteer any information. I had assumed that Jossen was building a strong-house of some kind, for indeed there were no weapons powerful enough to batter or shatter those massive stones.

Jossen spoke to me at length during the evening. He spoke of a plan that was conceived centuries in the past, and the slow building of a clan of adepts who were capable of executing that plan. Certain of his people were visited by dreams revealing a project, which would give them a focal point for the sublime influences of the world. The structure, being erected on sacred ground, was to be composed of large markers, set in a precise configuration. Simple stonecutter as I am, I found this information too abstract for my wit.

Jossen spoke on: 'Ran, your father was my friend and compatriot. Dahan was one of us that had that dream. He saw the plan as we contrived to understand it, and knew exactly what stones were needed. The work is almost complete, after these many years. There is yet one more stone to be cut and delivered, and you are the one to cut it.

'Furthermore, this here being your father's last piece, it is right that you carve his name on the base of the stone.'

Next morning, I carved the runes Jossen showed me on the stone's base. 'What are the runes for my name, Loremaster? I should like to commemorate my own last work.'

He looked at me long and thoughtfully. He then traced the runes in the dust with his finger.

We surveyed the wall that yielded the sunrise stone. And looking past the fine edge that my father had cut, we saw the thin, straight crack that had allowed it to suddenly break away. 'Here then is the sunset stone,' said Jossen. I scratched the outline on the face with my chisel, hanging from a rope ladder to reach the upper end.

'Take care with that, Ran,' the loremaster warned. 'I should like for you to remain alive to carve your name on your last work. Also, since Dahan was our friend and an important participant in this endeavour, I believe that he should rest in that hallowed place along with his life's work.' He then departed, giving word that a gang would arrive within days to move the stone, and my father's remains, to their final destination.

There was no reason to keep my father's dead shards in this stonecutters' village. My mother had died several winters ago, and her body was cremated along with others that had perished about the same time. My sister...well, a fisherman up the coast had cast his net, and she was caught up. I had relinquished my father's hut to a young family, and spent my nights in a lean-to against the quarry wall. My comrades brought me food and drink.

I decided that when this final stone is dragged away, I would travel with it. The land is wide, and I was becoming eager to see more of it. But in the meantime, I was the Master Stonecutter.

We pecked away at the outline I scored on the wall. We chanted as we worked, voicing our prayers and hopes for a perfect cleft when the time came.... Ahh, and what a festive occasion the cleaving was!

Festooned with ropes, buttressed by timbers, the final piece awaited the decisive stroke of my chisel.

The maul fell. My stone trembled, shifted, and lurched away from the wall. The ropes stretched, and held. The timbers bowed, and held. My comrades, with grunting chants and heaving bodies, eased the ropes and shifted the timbers to allow a slow descent. I stood on the stone's crest, riding it down, with my chipped and splintered tools held in salute. The freshly sundered face was as smooth as any stone surface I had ever seen.

We celebrated through the night, feasting on venison and good strong mead. By torchlight, I carved my name-runes on the stone's foot.

II.

Jossen appeared the evening of the next day. He inspected the sunset stone, resting upon its carefully-prepared bed of timbers. He smiled at the beautiful surface exposed to the sky. He walked slowly around the stone, touching its sides and whispering to himself. He stopped at the base. My name-runes were cleanly and deeply graven.

'Have you decided, then, Ran?'

'Aye, Loremaster, this is the last piece, true?' Jossen nodded. 'This is my father's life work, and I finished it for him. I know so little about the world, and I would not gain much new knowledge by remaining a stonecutter. I told myself I would leave this place with my stone. There is nothing keeping me here.'

'Whither--?'

'With you. I want to see where all these pieces went, and what you built with them. I want to see the sunset place you plan for my stone. And after...' A shrug.

Another nod, with a smile. 'I believe you are your father's son. We will travel the same roads as...your stone. The way is long, for its new home is far away. There will be plenty of time for questions and answers during the journey. We will spend a month on our way, and the stone should arrive well before midsummer next.'

The crew that I had worked with all my years, had assembled as we were speaking. Some had proud smiles, some had troubled expressions, and a few were still bleary and unsteady from the mead the night before. The contract that my father had undertaken many years ago was now fulfilled.

Jossen paid them all with what, to me, was an extravagant amount of gold. The few troubled expressions were replaced by broad grins.

'Tomorrow a gang will arrive to start the stone on its journey. Give your farewells, Ran. We depart at dawn.'

Farewells were few and quick enough. These men and boys who worked with me were my only family. I gripped their rock-scarred and callused hands with mine, and wished them a good life.

The sky was dark when I entered my shack. Not bothering to strike a light, I found my pouch and packed my few small possessions. My hand brushed my chisel, and reached to grasp it...No. I leave you here, chisel, with my best wishes.

I took my cloak from its peg, wrapped it about me, and settled on my pallet for my last night at the quarry where I grew up.

I had a dream. I was at the edge of a large clearing in an incredibly lush forest. I saw beasts come and go, most of them simply resting in the clearing. The odd thing was, there were boars and badgers and deer and goats and foxes, as well as myriad smaller creatures, mingling together as if it were a completely everyday occurrence to have predators and prey in peaceful conclave. There were birds in the branches, and no doubt there were serpents in the mould. A strong warm power touched me. I saw people come at intervals, all quite naked. There was a wounded and bleeding man, then a crone, next a mother with her child, even at one point a young couple, hand in hand. I then perceived that these folk and beasts would sleep in the clearing, and presently rise, healed of their hurts and diseases. As daylight left the clearing, a diffuse golden light came, glowing from the surrounding trees.

I stepped forward into the clearing, and looking down, saw that I was naked as well. I raised my battered stonecutter's hands, with the outer two fingers of the left one crushed and twisted, nigh useless. Perhaps.... I dropped to my knees, surrendered myself to the soft warm turf, and knew no more.

Daylight woke me. I was in the crude shelter at the quarry. I reached my hands to push myself off the pallet -- and experienced the joy of feeling my fingers again! I looked at them, hardly daring to believe my eyes, but saw two good hands, with healthy nails, straight fingers, and smooth knuckles. Even the calluses were missing!

Jossen was waiting for me in the cartway. As I approached him, he was staring at me thoughtfully.

'What?' said I.

'What what?'

'You are looking at me as if--'

'You look as if you have just had a powerful dream.'

'Aye, I did,' and showed him my hands.

III.

I did not need to ask many questions. Jossen spoke to me at length as we walked, day after day, past meadows and orchards, through moorland and mountains and cool fragrant forests. We took our repose in the village hostels along our path, or wrapped in our cloaks under the sky.

'The glade you visited in your dream is one of those places in our world where the power of Gaia is strong. All living creatures are beneficiaries of Her power. That is what healed your hands, that is what has given barren women the flame to create new life within them, that is what over the years has healed all manner of grievous hurt; and one only has to travel to one of Her rare sheltered glades, caverns and dells to become whole again.

'These places are instinctively known by all creatures, but when they are found and used heavily by people, they have a way of being tainted by the overbearing wills and lunatic fancies of men. You saw the glade as it existed more than seven hundred summers past. The spot is still there, but the forest is gone. In its stead is a carefully-placed ring of standing stones that were cut from your quarry.

'In the years long gone, there were many peoples drifting across the land. Some were content to wander, and lightly touched the bounty of a fertile country. Others saw fit to settle in that hospitable land, and prospered in their various occupations.

'But seven hundred years ago, a band of bloody-handed reavers invaded the land, enslaving those folk that escaped sword and flame. The chieftain was an especially brutal man, and he had no regard for anything beyond his cruel lusts. In his encampment he would torture and maim his slaves, and laughing, release them to live or die as they would.

'Those few who lived long enough made their way to Gaia's glade, and received Her healing. As a rule, they were later recaptured and subjected once more to that dark monster's insanity. He began to recognise some of the choice pieces of meat that were strapped to his bloody altar, and began to ask questions. His spies went forth, and brought back a curious tale.

'He then ordered the forest razed, and a huge circular wooden hall built surrounding the glade. He moved his equipment to the precise centre of the circle, and continued his gruesome play.

'His victims on the altar would swoon, then heal, and be murdered again. In spite of the power of Gaia, scores of innocents would have their last breaths ripped from them, some of them condemned to the death-and-healing cycle for many days and nights before their ends.

'His last plaything was a woman, Derwen the Dreamer, an exceptionally strong soul. He applied his blades, brands and bludgeons in every way known to his grotesque mind. His sport with her started at the full moon, and continued until the next full moon. Her final message to him, delivered through a shattered face from a slashed throat, was the direst curse that was ever uttered in this land. Derwen gave her life back to Gaia then, and her poor corpse never again twitched or gasped.

'He was beyond rage. She thought she could curse him! He would follow and punish her for that. He cut open his own dark heart, and along with his life's blood, his foul spirit flowed into the earth.

'Gaia had retreated. In Her place now was an obscene thing that devoured life. All the living people within that circle perished. The survivors dug a moat, raised a dike, and torched the hall.

'People and beasts alike shunned that place thereafter. The nameless filth that abides there has become somnolent over the years without blood to feed it; and the indomitable spirit of Derwen the Dreamer ever stands watch.

'Dahan is there as well, Ran. Of our time, he is the strongest and most determined foe of the Evil. He is a Dreamer, too. For us, to lose our mortal bodies is merely an inconvenience.'

IV.

We stood in the village Woodshade, in the quiet time before dawn. We were well-provisioned, and our flasks were filled with the refreshing Woodshade wine.

Jossen was in a hurry. 'You have an appointment this dawn, not far away. We must get you there before the sun clears the horizon. You will spend the day there.'

No further words were forthcoming, so we set out. We followed the forest-path, lit by the brightening sky before us. We stopped by an overgrown track which I would have overlooked, but Jossen told me I would follow it to its end. He took my flask and added a measure of powder from a phial. 'You are about ready. Give me your clothes and gear.'

'What?'

'You are visiting one of Gaia's homes. There are two things to remember: Gaia wishes to see Her human children unclothed; and do not ever carry the dead substance of another creature into Her presence. I have prepared a potion which will assist your Dreaming. When you arrive, drink half.' I undressed; he took my clothes and returned my flask, which I hung over my bare shoulder by its strap.

'When you return here, follow this path to the east. At the edge of the forest, I will be waiting with your things. Go now.'

The way was smooth, level, and straight enough. There was nothing in my world at that moment other than a narrow footpath in that twilit wood. The first sleepy peeps from waking birds hit my ears, and presently the world about me was filled with birdsong. I walked on, feeling quite like a woodland creature.

Within a short time, and safely before the Sun's rays spilled over the horizon, I came upon a clearing. I unslung my flask, drank half as Jossen instructed, and dropped it to the turf. I wandered further into the clearing, the spices of the potion benumbing my tongue, and I felt the need to rest. I reclined on the cool soft grass under the open sky, and closed my eyes.

I heard a curious call, and found myself standing facing a woman. She stood revealed in the sunrise, pale of body, dark of hair, and simply standing there she displayed all the virtues and beauties of a loving mother.

'Welcome to my Dream. I am Derwen.

'You, Ran, have been working through your young life to help fulfill the plan that I set in motion, hundreds of years ago. It was I who uttered the curse which caused the death of that glade, and it is my sworn task to undo that harm. You, like so many others in my long family, have been an agent of my plan. Your name-stone, safely on its way to its appointed position, is the final key to an event which has been awaited by me for seven hundred years.

'As a maid, I would lovingly tend that glade, keeping the paths clear, and removing any debris from that lovely soft turf. I lived there, and my clan started calling me Dryad. And Dryad I had hoped to be, I suppose, but that never came to pass. I grew into a woman in the usual span, and in due course bore two daughters.

'My daughters were still very young when I was taken away. Their father was dead for two years. They were hidden, and cared for, in a far forest.

'You see me now as I was, before that monster's first brand touched my flesh.

'In that last insane month of my life, Gaia taught me to Dream. I was away from the bloody twitching wreck of my body much of the time, learning and becoming strong.

'That monster who killed me over and over again...I cursed his works, I cursed his seed, I cursed his people, and I vowed that the place of his death would forever be barren: his abominable spirit would remain imprisoned in that place for all time.

'I never expected him to follow me so closely in death.

I returned to my daughters after my body's death, and taught them the Dreamers' way. I accepted responsibility for that hideous mischance, and though I had no solution yet for centuries, I knew that having a clan of Dreamers around me would help me succeed.

'Gaia could not destroy nor expel that foulness, for She could only nurture. After two centuries of fruitlessly casting my dreams for a solution, I petitioned the gods of sun and storm and mountain. They agreed the situation was deplorable, but no promises were forthcoming.

'Yet soon thereafter, a male branch of Dreamers emerged. Until then, we were all women, with the power given from mother to daughter. A male line, which for some reason held the keys to action that were denied me. Jossen is the longfather of that line, and he remains to this day my most hardworking agent.'

Derwen then grew tall, towering over me as she stood. No, I was shrinking. I reached out a chubby arm to steady myself against her leg...and fell on my bottom. Her warm hands scooped me up and held me against her shoulder. 'The word was given,' I vaguely heard, 'that if we succeed, a child will be born to us, who would have the power within himself to vanquish evil things like that in our world.' I wished then to suckle; she gave me her breast.

'But soon, soon...I shall lift my curse. In payment, I shall resign myself to Oblivion. In spite of that, I know that the essence of what I was will live on in the hearts of my children.' I finished my meal, and she put me up to her shoulder to burp me. I glimpsed a man's body lying comfortably spreadeagled in the grass, and beyond, a glimmer of motion in the shadowing wood.

Mama Derwen then laughed, gaily, musically. 'Ran my child, are you ready to meet your life's love?' She wiped my chin with her thumb and placed me on the ground. My body became that of a three-year-old at that moment, and I stood firmly on my sturdy legs. 'Lys is her name.' And she was gone.

V.

I forged a path through the tall grass toward the edge of the glade. Mama had told me her name... 'La-la-li-li-Lyth,' I sang to myself as I ploughed through the greenery.

A quick giggle answered me from somewhere very close.

'Lyth-ee!' I called. Show yourself! I turned in various directions, vainly peering over the ocean of grass. I was afforded only a glimpse of a cloud of fair curls and a flash of honey-brown skin before she was upon me. I was tumbled through the tickly grass and came to rest on my back, pinned to the earth by the prettiest little lass I had ever seen.

She sang a lisping, lilting song of innocent wonder, of happy discovery, of a dream come true. And between us, our eyes shared tales of rainbows, starry nights, and timeless enchanted sunny days such as this day.

We played as puppies play, dashing, leaping, and falling to earth in a tangle of sturdy young limbs. We touched, we hugged, we caressed, and we gamboled about the glade. We stopped briefly to tease the happily sleeping body of the adult Ran, beginning to grow pink in the noontime sunlight. We burrowed through the tall grass, and prepared a nest where we curled up together and napped.

I awoke to a quiet song of confiding, of sharing, of trusting. We were taller now, more slender, yet we were still children. Her eyes still held some of that happy sunshine, yet also showed the beginning awareness of the weight of the world. We spoke at length of lessons learned, of dreams and hopes; yet more of our doubts and fears. Our eyes shared the message: I can be brave and steadfast if you are with me. We walked quietly about the glade, stopping to drink from the spring. We followed the careless path of our younger selves, and presently came upon the sleeping Ran.

'Oooh. Pink,' said Lys, shaking her golden head with a smile. The sun had reached the midafternoon position by then, and hand in hand, we sought the shade of the surrounding wood. We foraged for fruit under the eaves, and shared every morsel.

We stood at length in an embrace, Lys singing a song of thankfulness that echoed in my heart. We were together, as we should be. The larger world beyond our glade ceased to exist in our shared Dream.

We sat by the pool of spring-water, sparkling in the light of the westering sun, and Lys sang. Under the gentle pressure of her song, my eyes grew heavy, and I drifted off to sleep.

I awoke again, to three things: a harsh burning sensation on the front of my body; a cool pressure, again on the front of my body; and a gentle song exhorting me to open my eyes and gaze upon my beloved. This I did. The sultry eyes that gazed back at me in the sunset were full of a tender humour.

'You foolish man! Next time you drink too much and pass out, choose a shaded spot to sleep!' She gently raised herself off me, and I saw how red I had become. I also saw my playmate, my friend, my cherished one, as a finely grown young woman. I gingerly raised myself to my feet, and wordlessly clasped her hands.

'Come, Ran. I shall bathe your pain away.' She led me to the spring-fed pool. The water was pure bliss on my skin. She glided her cool wet hands over my burning body, and the angry redness surrendered to a smooth healthy bronze.

I had become familiar with the body of Lys as a child, but this was much different. I understood the lore of woman and man well enough, but....

'Lys, are you Dreaming here?'

'What?'

'I mean, you - we - if you can--'

'Oh, you think I'm only sending a Dream to you?'

'Well, I don't know enough about these things. I'm not sure...'

'I would not cheat myself in that way. Or you, Ran. I am really here. For you. Stab me and I shall bleed.'

'Stab you! Never! Even if I had a weapon--!'

'You have the weapon. You will stab me. I will bleed. Tonight...very soon, in fact.'

She began a song of stirring blood and rising passion. I suddenly understood. Laughing, I caught up my singing bride in my arms, and stepped from the pool.

* * *

'You are so easy to see in the starlight, Ran...'

'How so?'

'...from behind, anyway. Your buttocks glow like moonstones. Your front is well-darkened, but your back needs more work. I should say you need to spend another day in the sun, on your belly this time. Expose your backside to the sky, hmmm?'

'Must I?'

'Well, I had planned to spend most of tomorrow in your body's shade.'

'Aye, but Jossen--'

'Jossen changed his plans, when he learned I was here. He has gone on his way now, and he took your gear with him.'

'My clothes?' A flurry of confused thoughts clamored to express themselves.

'Everything. All you have now is that flask. And....'

'And a beautiful singing Dreamer.'

'Don't you forget it.'

'I will get used to that, I'm sure.'

* * *

'I think we will abide here until the leaves start to turn.'

'That means the frosts will come!'

'And we'll still be naked.'

'Don't you--?'

'--Wear clothes? No, never.'

'Then how--'

'I can sing the chill away from my nest; I can sing up a fog to conceal me.'

We lay comfortably together in the place where I had slept through the day. As I fell into a blissful doze, my heart was filled with gratitude for having this amazing woman in my arms. But why? Why should a simple stonecutter be favoured so?

VI.

I stood on the new cartway bridge at the quarry site. Well. You are gone for a fortnight, and your home village, which has never changed within memory, suddenly shows a new look.

The bridge was a fine piece of work. A single stone arch spanned the channel where a brook flowed. That was new as well. Whence--?

I looked up and saw what was becoming a sheltered garden. The quarry that I remembered so well, grey and dusty, was turning green! A lake had formed in the cove we had cut out of the hill, fed by a cascade from a crevice in the face that yielded our final two stones. My old shack was half submerged. Grasses and vines had already gained a toehold.

'Aye, as a quarry it's worthless now,' said a familiar voice behind me. I was smiling even before I turned. My father was sitting on the hillside where I had placed his remains. He appeared the same age as when he died. His bones were gone, of course, but a shallow depression remained. There he reclined, with a smile on his face. 'Comfortable turf, and a nice view as well, Son! I thank you for that.'

'I was hoping to see you, Father.'

'Well then, come here, you naked rascal, I've things to tell you. What, did that wild young wench steal your tunic?' We both began to laugh. I climbed the hillside and stopped below him.

'No, it was Jossen. I believe she had a hand in it, though.'

'Jossen, eh?' His smile faded. 'He had no right to make you claim that stone. A young fellow like yourself, and that old goat had to trick you!'

'Wait. I have no idea what you are talking about.'

'Sit then.' I sat.

'This is the scheme: Every stone that is planted in that circle is carved with the name of a Dreamer man, and when that stone drops into its slot, the named man is at the bottom to catch it. With two exceptions, they are all volunteers, older men who had no regrets about leaving their bodies. You and I are those exceptions. I fit the scheme simply because I died by the stone falling on me...I felt so foolish when it crushed me, I should have paid more attention. So, anyway, they trundled off with my splinters and dropped them in the hole. Neat work. Yes, my spirit is connected to that stone. Because my name is on it. Because he told you to carve it. That's all well and good, because I enjoy a good solid block of rock. But you--'

'So I'm supposed to die at the Midsummer?'

'Aye, your body anyway. Since you're a Dreamer, you can suffer the blow, and persist. It's not the same as being alive, though...the Dream person does not have the same energies as the live one.'

I had my doubts here, but held my tongue. He continued in a somewhat softer tone.

'The main thing I can see in your favour is the fact that Lys loves you. I believe she could sing a corpse out of his grave.'

'I was wondering, Father, why she loves me.'

'Everyone was surprised to learn you had already claimed your stone, and all the womenfolk were powerful happy to hear of it.'

'Derwen--'

'You talked to her?'

'Aye...'

'Well then?'

'She said something about a powerful child to be born.'

'I hadn't heard that.'

'And also, she expects to...really die that day, I mean with the evil thing, she's supposed to sacrifice herself for the curse.'

'A child, eh? There are other schemes in action, then. Well, if you and Lys are expected to bear that child in time, you'd better get to work! It's almost the equinox now.'

'Me and Lys?'

'Yes, you. By all I've heard (and by no means do I want to hear everything), Lys is the chosen daughter of old Derwen's line. Her father belongs to a clan of singers elsewhere in the land, and the mixture was potent.'

'Yes, but still--'

'D'ye know that there are two lines of Dreamers, male and female?'

'Aye.'

'And you are one of the many young bucks of our line, which started with that conniving old scoundrel.' He uttered a sardonic snort. 'He looks old, because he was old when he died. All these noble sacrifices did not apply to him. He did not die with confidence like so many others had. He stayed on as long as he could.'

'Well...if he was the first, how would he know for certain that he would continue?'

'Hunh. I say. That makes sense, I guess.' He gave me a wry smile. 'Anyway, here you are, then. A young Dreamer man; a Stonecutter, stronger and finer than those farmers, herders and poets; and, a man who has claimed the final and most portentious Stone. So here you are. If that child is part of that larger scheme, you and that free-running vixen need to get started.'

'We've already...started.'

'Gods and demons, boy! I envy you.' His voice became gentle. 'Love her then, son. And accept her love. Do not feel as if you are being used, even if you are. She's carrying a good-sized load of it herself.'

'Aye, Derwen told me that many people were, well, used. But Jossen didn't trick me. I asked him for my name-runes.'

'Did he tell you what it meant to use them?'

'I guess not...'

'Sneaky old bastard. But he could have done much worse than choose you.

'At any rate, Ran, it would be splendid for you to join me out there. Those other fellows wouldn't know a good stone if it struck them between the eyes.'

VII.

The Sun is exalted as He traverses the horizon, His light gleaming fully upon the proud stones aligned to His ecliptic.

The Moon pours Her shadows into a bowl of cool stone.

The wayward Wind whistles through those stone teeth on the meadow.

In the centre of the circle, a dark thing slumbers, caged by massive adamant blocks anchored by the spirits of Dreamers. No living thing has entered the inner circle since the pyre swept all life away. The soil is at best a bitter dust, spurning even the nurturing waters that fall from the sky.

Along that perimeter of guardian stones, a team of diggers prepared the socket for the final piece.

Belas the philosopher has abided in the region since the plan was conceived, and has come to know to a nicety the courses of Sun and Moon along the paths of the sky. His task had been to reveal the precise placement, in a perfect circle, of the stones Dahan's people had prepared.

When still endowed with a living body, Belas could only enter the circle in Dream form for his surveying. The presence of flesh and blood would provoke the buried menace into instant violence. Beasts needed no moat nor dike to deter their steps; birds did not even venture into the greater meadow, within the surrounding woodland more than a thousand paces distant. Even the grasses were tentative in their growth, providing only sparse browse for the herders' beasts.

Belas reflected that his long participation in this project was complete, barring only the erection of the Sunset stone, and the coeval sacrifice of the young Stonecutter's living body. It was fated, he mused, that Ran should give this service, and he wondered how Jossen had managed to convince him.

* * *

He recalled the experiments he performed at the dead circle. He had captured a rodent, and flung it toward the centre. At first impact, that small unfortunate was instantly impaled upon a cruel obsidian needle thrust up by the evil thing, and within heartbeats its poor dried husk crumbled and mingled with the dead grit.

The Dreamer philosopher then took a weasel's form, and he thoroughly scouted within the circle with his eyes, nose, and clever paws. Not a trace of anything untoward; in his mind he crafted the next phase of the experiment.

A living weasel was destined for the circle this time, a trusting and affectionate little fellow. Belas met him in weasel's form, and merged with him, enveloping the soft sleek body in invisible armour. Becoming one with the creature's will and sinews, he boldly entered the circle of death.

The weather was brisk and cloudy that day, and the weasel sniffed the breeze, which carried a foul taint as it wafted across the barren zone. He felt a tremor beneath his paws as he crossed the boundary.

With deliberation, the weasel proceeded toward the centre. A spike of obsidian erupted from the earth, aiming to pierce his body. The Dream-armour deflected the spike, and it snapped and shattered, the black shards immediately burrowing back down. A few steps more. Stalks erupted on both sides, each sending a macabre web of clutching tendrils to whip around the creature, trapping him mid-leap. Thorns grew to pierce his flesh, but again were thwarted by the armour.

With a sinuous contortion, the weasel broke free. The shards again disappeared into the dust. The circle trembled; at the centre, a crumbling mound raised itself, forming a foetid pustule on that tainted ground. The weasel proceeded yet a few steps more.

A head issued from the mound's summit, wedge-shaped and with jaws wide enough to engulf the weasel. A neck followed; soon a dead-black serpent was coiled on the mound, with its questing head pointed unerringly at the weasel's living warmth. It struck with lightning speed--

A dazzling sunbeam broke between the clouds, transfixing the serpent. It fell to earth in a torpor, its deadly snout only a hand's breadth from the surprised weasel. Sullenly, painfully, it retreated to its hole and disappeared. The mound subsided, and the circle became quiet. The weasel scampered to safety, and bounded away to find Derwen.

* * *

All this, thought the philosopher Belas, was due to a curse. Seven centuries had passed, and Derwen's spirit was bound here just as surely as the evil one's was. She never flagged, she never forsook her obligation to see the circle cleansed. And Derwen's long-held plan was now close to fruition. As he inspected the diggers' work, Belas smiled wryly. I resolve, he thought, never to give a strong woman any cause to curse me.

VIII.

We had played, and spoken, and Dreamt in our glade, during the fading days of Summer. We Dreamed, one of the other, one with the other, one as the other.... I learned to Dream in the full guise of a solid living man, as Jossen had always appeared to me.

We travelled to my new home, through woodland glowing in autumnal colours, astride a chestnut stallion. I was nervous at first, never having ridden even a pony; furthermore, horses were reserved for chieftains and warriors! Lys laughed, and assured me that this horse, her friend, would not accept such a fate. We rode at a brisk pace along uncharted trails, with the morning sun in our faces.

We arrived at the meadow in the grey morning, with the circle of stone rising above the mists. A faint glimmer of sunlight touched the sky, and we proceeded to the eastern face. Our steed stopped at the moat, so we dismounted, Lys sharing a fond farewell with the beast, and finished our journey on foot.

I paid my respects to Dahan, standing before his stone, casting a dim shadow upon its face.

We spent the cold months with our people, in a cosy hut under the eaves of the woodland, with a southerly view of the Circle. We watched as the sunlight and moonlight played upon the stones.

When the first chants were heard from the haulers approaching with my stone, the whole clan rushed to the roadside to cheer them, help them, and offer refreshment. I was handed forward by the crowd and bidden to ride my stone to our resting-place. Lys walked happily alongside, her taut glowing belly held proudly forward.

At the end of the slow but short journey, I looked down to see the neatly-dug socket that would be my body's long home.

* * *

Midsummer was fast approaching. Belas had been explaining the process of the Sun's northward advance as Winter progresses to Summer. He indicated the precise point on the horizon where the Sun would show itself on Midsummer dawn, and the point, not far south, where it had risen on that day's dawn.

The day finally arrived. My Lys and I were feted since dawn, when we all joined in procession to visit the Sunrise. Dahan's man-form sat atop the stone, gazing into the dawnlight with a blissful smile. With a wink to me, he was gone.

All things considered, I was having a joyful time for a man who faced his body's death at sunset. Lys and I had no regrets, as we shared the Dream-bond. I was impatient to see this thing done!

The shadows had grown long when I met Derwen, Belas, and Jossen. We stood by the hole, where my stone was waiting, upright on a frame, held from falling by a latch of timber. We stood in amiable silence, waiting for the moment.

Belas gestured; I dropped into the hole and reclined in the comfortable space. I saw the elders' smiling heads above me, with the darkening sky beyond them. I could hear the clan chanting now, and I sang the old stonecutter's chant from the quarry. The latch was pulled, and my stone slid eagerly into my embrace.

The night grew quiet.

IX.

...Blood red gushing fresh flowing sensuous dripping I want I need I crave I wait. She bled so long so full so full everywhere everywhere SHE CURSED ME DAMN HER DAMN HER I LOVED HER BLOOD dripping dripping I loved...Her...Heavy thud shake sleep fresh blood beyond my reach beyond forever I want I need I crave I wait....

X.

Lys spent the night at my foot, comfortable and warm in her nest of grass. The clan spent the night quietly, resting in anticipation of a truly portentious day.

As the first hint of dawn touched the world, I came to her in man-form, and held her gently as she awakened. She smiled, stood, embraced her large belly, and said, 'We have work to do today.' I merged with her body, building the armour on her skin in the manner Belas had suggested. 'Closer,' she said. I snuggled deeper, becoming one with her bones and muscles. 'More.' I ranged deeper yet, encompassing her beating heart and warm core. 'More yet.' I flowed into her womb and touched our son. He flexed his body happily as we met, and invited me to share his space. 'Almost there.' I sought, found, and gave myself fully to the essence, the spark, the flame which was my Lys.

Woman, child, and man were now One.

We broke our fast with a hot spicy infusion provided by Belas; we waited for the broad shadow of the Sunrise stone to recede from the tainted centre of the circle.

Derwen stood by our side. 'Today is my end. I will find peace, yet I will always carry the blame with me, somehow.'

We sang a long, slow, gentle Song of forgiveness, expressing the sum of the loving devotion of a strong united clan. Derwen would indeed find peace. Our armour softened for her long embrace.

'Announce me now, my Love.'

We entered the stone circle alone, and began to pace the circumference of the dead circle. The evil thing was stirred into wakefulness by the presence of our warm rich mother's blood; and by the life-within-life, which stirred expectantly in our womb.

We sang then, of a centuries-long doom. We sang of two spirits who would finally find surcease from their long torment. We sang of the arrival of Derwen--

The circle of death violently contorted: a mound thrust itself up in the centre, and a large dense darkness erupted, forming itself into a crude man-shape. 'DERWEN!' it roared. Billows of stinking smoke gushed forth, darkening the clear morning air within the encircling stones.

'I am here, Lord.' She walked calmly past the sunset stone, touching me briefly one last time with a living hand. She walked with fateful decision, directly into the circle of death, and knelt in the dark foulness at the base of the monster's mound.

'I lift my curse now, Lord.' Instantly, the nodules on the underground web of darkness stirred, and writhed, and ripped through the bitter crust in their eagerness to rejoin the central body. Freed thus from the earth, the monster stepped down to the spot where Derwen knelt. Its left arm ended in a hooked blade; the right was a cruel spiked bludgeon.

It thrust its blade deep into Derwen's breast, and lifted her swooning body to hang helplessly. It raised its bludgeon high, and brought it down upon her skull.

Derwen disappeared in a flash of golden fire. The monster's arms now ended in smoking stumps, which were quickly replaced by crude hands. It howled in triumph.

'NOW...YOU!' It advanced toward us, arms mutating into tentacles tipped with finger-like blades. We stood our ground, our will reinforced by the Dreamers around us.

It clutched at our belly, and the armour shattered the blades. It reshaped its weapons, and came howling at us again.

Our collective will to endure was suddenly augmented by a decisive boldness. From our belly, two bolts of golden fire erupted, leaving our body unscathed but meeting those deadly appendages squarely. They burned with a foul smoke, and withered to impotent ash.

The howl wavered. Two more golden bolts. The howl became a wail. The dark body shrank and writhed. More bolts of fire, in quick succession. The wail receded to a moan, then to a whimpering sigh, then to silence.

A gentler golden fire spread throughout our body. We stepped to the top of the mound, raised our golden arms to the sky, and sang a song of healing. Our light suffused the foul air around us and the dead crust beneath our feet, and the lingering stench of evil was cast away. The Sun shone bright again in a clear sky.

Our water broke then. The top of the mound where we stood was drenched. And in response, a spring gushed pure clean water between our feet.

* * *

The afternoon was spent in preparation. We wandered as one, Lys and I, and watched as the water spread throughout the circle, and as the new grasses and flowers grew with preternatural speed. We then reclined on the grassy mound, and as one, surrendered to the birth.

Our son was born at sunset. His first cry in the free air of the world was a song of inexorable power. The people quieted, the breeze was hushed, and the spring at the centre was stilled. A second breath, and his song was now a joyful greeting to family, clan, and home. Sound and motion returned to the world, and we all rejoiced. My sunset stone glowed proudly from within, and the other stones took this glow in their turn, as the last fading rays of the midsummer Sun were quenched.

Merl is the name we gave him.

Epilogue

Our son Merl grew tall, strong, and merry in his garden, in the company of his sire and grandsire, resident in our respective stones. He had no thought for the strangeness of this, but took it as the natural way of things. He grew into a strong young man, departed into the wider world, and was said to have accomplished wondrous things.

His mother, my beloved Lys, happily relinquished her body soon after. Our Dream together now is quieter, yet richer, and ever fulfilling.

* * *