26th February

Cissy, darling

Last night was the night of Violetta’s sixtieth birthday bash. The invitation was an elegantly monogrammed affair which stated that the theme for the evening was to be ‘Swing, baby!’ to be held at Diamond Joe’s, one of the popular local bars on White Owl Island. Marvellous! A chance to wear another of my spiffing new beaded dresses and fancy little feathered headbands. Violetta had been thoughtful enough to include Jack, Lottie and Teddy in her invitation to me. I was rather thankful for this. I’ve never been one to enjoy arriving to an engagement alone, particularly when running fashionably late as I am wont to do from time to time.

Violetta greeted us upon arrival. She looked incredibly handsome, dressed unconventionally in a man’s suit, not dissimilar to the one which Jack wore. The sight of him looking so dapper in his suit had caught me quite by surprise and I couldn’t help but run my eyes over him several times throughout the evening.
‘Something take your fancy, dollface?’ he winked. I blushed immediately. Damn and blast!
In a feeble attempt to regain my composure I made numerous trips to the bar for refreshments before circulating amongst Violetta’s many friends. Several of the women attending wore purple boas about their necks. I guessed these to be her friends from the Sixty and Sassy Society. All that I spoke to appeared to be more than a little tipsy and fawned over Jack, who charmed the socks off each and every one of them. One particularly well-to-do woman even spanked Jack on the bottom and suggested that he call her. At that exchange, I believe I made another trip for refreshments, unable to believe the woman’s audacity.

The big band that had been secured for the evening’s entertainment struck up with a favourite Duke Ellington tune soon after and the dancing began. Teddy and I kick up our heels often at our local dances and partnered one another more than once during Violetta’s knees up. We danced and drank and danced some more as the band played hit after hit in succession.  Jack cut in on our final dance and I was pleasantly surprised to find that he was quite adept on the floor. Each time I glanced up to meet his eyes, he smiled down at me and I found that my stomach flipped. I found it very strange that he should have this effect on me. Perhaps I had consumed too much alcohol after all, sister, though I feel no lasting effects this morning.

After the final dance, dear Violetta gave a speech, thanking all of us for the impression that each had made upon her sixty years. Then, Cecelia, as all of us wept at her kind words, she surprised us all by announcing her engagement to a mysterious beaux known only as Marco. Marco stood quietly by her side, a good-looking Italian much younger than our vivacious friend. He seemed besotted, as did she. Jack slipped an arm around my shoulders as we toasted this most surprising news. A smile played across my lips as I looked at him. This time when he winked, I took the cue from the Sixty and Sassy ladies, pinched his bottom and suggested he call me, turned and strode toward the ship, laughing all the way.

Elizabeth.

17th February

Dearest Cecelia,
I was correct in assuming that I would hardly sleep a wink. The warriors begrudgingly made us comfortable in one of their guest huts. I’m sure if it weren’t for fear of retribution from their leader, whose name I have since learned is Shala, they’d have happily left us to a fitful night on the packed hard earth of the copse floor. Our rooms were decorated in a minimalist fashion, with just the bare essentials at hand. I was rather taken with a set of tapestries which lined the walls, depicting waterfalls, a lush oasis and various cloudscapes. Several warriors appeared to keep a vigil in each one. One such tapestry was of a detailed hierarchy entitled ‘A Parliament of Owls’ with the Prime Owlister at the fore. Why, I had never heard of such a thing! Lemuria is so full of the most wonderful surprises!

Jack and I soon retired for the evening. Jack remained strangely quiet since being chastised by the warrior, Shala. We conversed briefly in anticipation of what to expect on awakening, but each was caught up in thoughts of our own and fell silent soon after. I slept fitfully, unused to the eerie sounds of owls calling to one another. Their calls haunted my dreams for much of the night and more than once, I awoke, startled and gasping for breath. As the sun began to rise, the sounds abathed and my tiredness soon gave way to excitement. I decided to leave the comfort of my bunk and take myself to sit upon the verandah which ran alongside the hut. I watched as the sun painted the sky in hues of magenta and gold. Shala approached as the last owl quieted.

‘The Councillor will see you now. There is no time to waste for he is old and impatient with the young.’

There we were, as simply as that, walking to meet one of Obas’ah the Benevolent’s councillors of old. My knees were as if made of blancmange. I looked to Jack for reassurance but all that he could offer me was a tight smile, his usual bravado and swagger were absent. The distance between our hut and that of the Councillor was not great, however, an age appeared to pass before we reached the humble dwelling. Shala rapped thrice on the door with the crook of her staff before vanishing before our very eyes! Jack and I sought one another’s hand for comfort and waited with sweating palms. The Councillor shuffled within, the door scraping back painfully on its hinges. We were greeted by the most wonderfully sweet and mischievous eyes, set in a face, currant brown and wrinkled. The Councillor, his head as hairless as that of a newborn baby, was small and dressed in a floor length woollen cassock.

‘Children, do come in. Let us not waste time no mince words. Shala has told me of your quest. She speaks well of you. I understand that The Enchantress is assisting you, that she has provided you with the means to grant you safe passage among the warriors. You seek to retrieve the scrolls of Lemuria. Tell me, what is it you intend for these scrolls once you have them in your possession?
‘Sir, we hadn’t really given it much thought beyond the safety of the scrolls. We simply must prevent them from falling into the hands of The Collector.’
‘Children, you are so naive. The scrolls will not be safe until they are returned to their rightful heir.’
‘But of Obas’ah’s two sons, one is dead, murdered by the one who has been banished for his evildoing.’
‘I speak not of Obas’ah’s sons. The heir need not be a direct descendant of The Benevolent One. The heir will be revealed by the scrolls themselves in due course. I am to understand that two of the scrolls are already in The Collector’s possession?’
‘Yes, Sir, we believe that to be true.’
‘Then you must take the one which I have given my life for. Guard it as I have. Do not let him possess this also.’
‘No puzzles or riddles to solve first, Sir?’
‘You would like me to devise a riddle for you, child? I have not the patience for such games.’
‘Well no, Sir, we wouldn’t ask you to devise such a riddle if one were not already in place, eh Jack, old chap? A puzzle would be most bothersome, wouldn’t you say?’
‘It is as I thought. The youth today.. everything handed to them on a silver platter..’ laughted the Councillor, his nut brown skin wrinkling further still. ‘Shoo! It is time for my mid-morning nap.’

Just like that, the Councillor pressed an engraved gold box, approximately three inches in length into my palm.
‘Peace be with you.’
‘And also with you, Sir.’

I tucked the box carefully inside my canvas knapsack. Jack and I clasped hands once more and clutching L’Enchanteur’s walnut, I uttered the chant which would return us directly to the Vulcania.

Elizabeth.

16th February – the copse

Dearest Cecelia,

As we approached the copse I gave an involuntary shiver. Six pairs of eyes watched us silently, glinting ominously in the failing light. Three pairs were almond shaped,  obviously human and the others were large and spherical, the eyes of great white owls. The owls shone as though basked in moonlight. Luminescent and quite the most magnificent creatures. Their round eyes held us in their gaze. I guessed from the look of their claws, sharpened to a lethal point that these birds could be formidable predators when necessary. I dared not move a muscle, for fear of upsetting these watchful beasts. Did they attack out of necessity only? I decided that a healthy respect for the unknown was in order. Better to err on the side of caution as Mother always says. Jack stood frozen beside me.

The almond eyes grew closer and I was able to ascertain that they belonged to three equally formidable and beautiful women. Broad and muscular, I felt small and insignificant in their presence. Jack’s jaw dropped and I had to nudge him sharply with my elbow. He let out a low whistle and I rolled my eyes in response. One woman stepped forward, quite clearly the designated spokesperson, perhaps even their leader. She beckoned toward me. These simply have to be the warriors that L’Enchanteur and the journal described.

‘State your purpose for being here.’
‘Um..’
‘Cat got your tongue?’
‘Perhaps she’s shy.’
‘Do we frighten you, girl?’

The others began to heckle. My tongue felt as though it was glued to the roof of my mouth and I blushed profusely, stuttering even more.

‘We’re here to..’ began Jack, moving forward. The warrior’s eyes flashed and Jack fell back, silent once again.

‘Let the girl speak for herself.’

Suddenly cross at being addressed in such a manner, I chastised the warrior, insisting that she show me the respect she commanded for herself. She smile indulgently at me and bade me to continue. I informed her of the reason for our intrusion into the copse. Nodding sagely, she spoke thus.

‘You do not require access to the tree to learn the secrets of its scrolls. You need only to show me what lies within your heart. The Enchantress has armed you with the means to do this.’

With that I passed to her the map of my heart which lay within the walnut’s shell. Within seconds she returned it to me.

‘You are innocent and pure and no doubt virginal also, unusual for one of your years. It is time for you to meet the Councillor who resides with us. I will commune with him and return at first light.’
‘W.. wait here?’ I cast around me. There was nowhere that would suffice for overnight shelter.
‘Fine,’ she sighed. Turning to her cohorts she ordered for them to take us to the village and make us comfortable.
‘This one looks sickly.’ I was horrified to find that she was pointing a long finger in my direction.
‘Wait a minute, I..’
The warrior held up my hand to silence my sputtering, ’she also does not know when she is expected to be silent.’

A Councillor, Cissy. A bona fide Councillor. we meet him tomorrow. I’m quite certain I shan’t sleep a wink!

Elizabeth.

16th February

Cissy,
Jack and I are afoot once more. We were delayed for a day while I recovered from a most debilitating migraine. I am recovered and so we have set out on a journey into the protected heartland of White Owl Island. We have permission to walk this way as long as we are careful not to remove anything from its natural environment. This area has recently been devastated by raging fires and is now undergoing a process of regeneration. We tread carefully, ensuring that our feet do not disturb the tender new growth.

According to our gracious hostess, L’Enchanteur, it will take us a full day to reach our destination. The day is warm and breezy, pleasant enough, and the scenery is simply breathtaking. Emerald hills undulate on either side of us. Jack and I walk at a leisurely pace through the Lol’ah Valley. We stop on occasion to take a closer look at the flora which is unique to this part of the world. Large, succulent, waxen petals turned to the sun, and the delicate, downy blossoms favoured by the bright flitting birds. We crossed the Lol’ah River at noon and began our climb toward higher ground, stopping only for a bite to eat. Pushing on, the climb became more demanding, the hills grow steeper, the ground beneath our feet, more treacherous. There are low outcrops of rock to navigate. More than once, I have required Jack’s assistance to pull me over a particularly difficult formation. We are growing ever closer now. Once we reach the Andus’at Plains we are on the last leg of our journey.

L’Enchanteur’s directions were concise and as accurate as one could hope for. As the sun leaves the sky, we can see the Plains stretching out before us. I welcome the relative ease of walking on flat terrain once more. L’Enchanteur’s hastily scribbled map can be folded away at last. I am grateful for her sound knowledge of Lemuria and its inhabitants. You will recall, Cissy, that each of us were given a gift of a walnut shell on departing for Lemuria. I have kept mine close to my person in the protective amulet about my throat. L’Enchanteur reminded me at the Potluck dinner that the walnut contains a map of the heart. Since only the pure of heart may pass into the copse where stands the Royal Tree, I aim to present the map to the Warrior who guards the way. I hope that this is enough to gain the entry I seek.

The light is beginning to fade now, Cissy, but we are here at last. The copse looms before us, the trees magnificent in both stature and girth. I gape in awe and forget for a moment the aching in my limbs. I wince with every step. Cramped and sore and in need of rest, I must bash on. We are still to locate the Warrior.

Something tells me though, that our approach has not gone unnoticed.
Elizabeth.

15th February

Dear Cissy,
There is much to tell. Last night’s festivities were splendid indeed! The ritual for the Charming of the Plough was magical to say the least. It was decided upon that our group would join together when presenting our offering. We set off from the harbour along a narrow country lane. Along the way we met a gentleman out for an early evening stroll with his sheepdog. The man, dressed in tweed knickerbockers suggested that we follow the lane for a mile or so where we would happen upon an old wooden stile. I had some difficulty in mounting the stile in my dress as you can imagine and rather annoyingly laddered my stockings. I was shocked when Jack suggested that I remove them altogether but had to agree that it seemed the sensible thing to do and so there I was in the middle of a field, doing the unthinkable!

We walked until we found ourselves confronted by a derelict farmhouse with pastures on all sides. Some of the fields were of a deep green, lush and others danced with rows of golden wheat, still warm from the sun. This was the perfect place to perform our ritual. In low tones we chanted, beseeching the Land Spirits to bless the soil, then crumbled our pieces of bread before us. The wind whispered as if the spirits had acknowledged our plea.

I decided not to turn back with the others, preferring to stay and meditate in solitude. The sky was beginning to darken and so Jack insisted that he remain with me. I stilled myself, which was nigh on impossible under the circumstances. Having Jack in such close proximity was rather distracting. I breathed slowly in and out, focusing on the rhythm of my breathing as L’Enchanteur had taught me. When I felt ready I turned and began to retrace my steps to the harbour in silence. I did not speak again until we neared the site of the Potluck dinner, quieting all of Jack’s attempts at conversation. The beach before us was alive with music and laughter. I waved to a few of my new friends from the Vulcania – Unity, wearing her trademark hibiscus in her hair, Sue dressed in a fairy costume, complete with cardboard wand and balancing a large dish of Cauliflower Cheese to rival our dear cook’s.

I turned my face to Jack and laughed at the frivolity surrounding us.
‘Tomorrow we must find someone to take us to the copse of Living Trees. According to the journal, the trees are home to the White Owl and are guarded by a powerful Lemurian Warrior. Only the pure of heart may gain access to the copse.’

Jack nodded in agreement and taking my hand, led me toward the festivities.

Elizabeth.

14th February

Cecelia, dearest,

Anticipation abounds as we prepare to disembark at White Owl Island. There is to be a ritual, honouring the Earth and asking Mother Earth and Father Sky for assistance in healing and nurturing the fertile soil. As we meditate on our dependence on the soil, we are to crumble bread and call upon the Land Spirits to keep the Earth safe from harm. This ritual is to be followed by a time of community between the island’s inhabitants and the passengers aboard the Vulcania. We are each to bring a dish to share with one another. Our evening will finish with the celebration of the Gala Ball.

Lottie and I have spent several days fashioning our costumes and I can now unveil them to you in their completed form. I am to be dressed as Clara Bow, the It girl and Lottie will be attending as Mary Pickford. I do so love the silent films and their glamorous stars! Lottie has always left her hair long and so is able to wear those divine ringlets which fall softly about her shoulders. My hair is cropped rather shorter. As a result, we have spent much of the day creating fluffy curls atop my head. I do look quite fetching. In fact, the resemblance between myself and Clara is rather remarkable. Drawing the eyebrows just so was a formidable task, but Lottie is simply wizard with a pencil.

The dish we are each to provide for the potluck dinner proved to be more of a challenge. I am so used to our dear cook preparing all of our meals back at the house in Yorkshire that I really haven’t a clue where to begin in the kitchen. I do rather hope there will be a place in which I can purchase such a dish once we are ashore.  I am quite well prepared for the festival offering though. There was something of an abundance of food at lunch today and I have managed to save some of the lovely warm, fresh bread rolls. I have distributed them among our group. Mine is in a small, satin drawstring bag which slips rather nicely onto my wrist.

Now to round up the others. I believe we are exiting the ship en masse. I hop I can navigate the gangplank in my heels without too much of a fuss!

Elizabeth.