A Heart's Crucible
Disoriented

Joq compared the Mediterranean below to the tips of Perdita’s wings. Crete lay in the distance, covered in groves of olives, hillsides of vines and vibrant red currants. As Joq and her companions descended from the clouds, nearby timber cutters hewed a massive cypress.

Today Joq avoided focusing on hulking bare-backed males swinging axes. Instead, she steered her company towards the dual acropoleis of Idalion. A ruin in a world yet to age through time. The homes, the loves, the losses, the beliefs and the wealth of the city’s inhabitants, piles of fallen stone.

Laid back on a sun-warmed marble wall in the former forum, Joq noted they occupied the site alone. Only a lost or wild goat broke the silence, bleating, “Maaah.”

“Secret entrances aren’t a Peri forte,” said Zarella.

“I know my preference! So let’s join those woodcutters whilst they have energy!”

Joq gripped Zel’s olive arm.

“We must replace an entrance.”

“What? Squeeze in behind a cockroach,” said Zel.

The bug scuttled in a crack between Joq’s sandals. Her hand shaded her eyes.

“I’d prefer the goat showed us an imposing portal.”

“Lunch first,” flapped Perdy, and her eyelashes fluttered, so Joq let her go.

Minutes later, she swished into the forum, laden with green olives, sea snails drizzled in oil, juicy figs, crunchy almonds, a shank of goat meat and a half-full wineskin.

“Apologies for the wine,” Perdita threw the cask in Zarella’s direction.

“Those cutters below are thirsty dudes.”

After the redhead overindulged and Zel swigged excessive booze, Joq and her friends poked here and there. They leaned headfirst, peering into an abandoned well.

“Whoops,” said Perdy, in a dizzy spell, spilling half her lunch.

Joq cocked an ear, waiting for a splash or thud below. Only silence greeted her.

“Well, cupcake,” patting the redhead’s shoulder, “We found out this way is too deep.”

Next, they pried into a forsaken temple where Zel’s tipsy feet broke piled funerary figurines.

“Uh-oh,” squatting and hangdog attempting to piece together terracotta humans and clay animals.

Perdy raised her, “Bah, to hidden passageways behind altars, let’s sit in the sunshine.”

The pair sat in the forum and checked for chipped nails and split ends. Only Joq maintained spasms of concentration, watching a bird flit or a mouse scurry, hopeful of spying a passageway.

Later her buddies chased tawny butterflies and forgot the scrutiny of holes. Finally, bored and frustrated, the Peri perched and finished the olives and almonds.

Perdy eyed the tired woodcutters, “Oh, let’s skydive and surprise the boys. Their work day is over.”

A dwarf grey bat darting towards a cypress ignited Joq.

“There,” and running beneath an arch, “Follow me.”

And sure enough, as a wineskin started under the blistering sun will empty, steps appeared leading into darkness.

Joq paused.

“We looked over here. Yes, we did.”

She frowned, believing they missed the obvious or a trapdoor opened!

“Scorpions!”

Perdy stepped aside, holding her copious red hair high, tracking the creepy-crawly scuttle under the late sun. The Celt hoiked her earasaid and balanced on a fallen fluted column.

“Spider webs,” said Zel.

Her body-hugging sari resisted a yank to cover her hair.

“Can we search for the backdoor, the quick way in and out!”

Her bronze wings dulling fast.

“Wait,” said Joq, fluttering towards the village by the seaside.

The flaxen Peri returned holding strips of bright blue Minoan cloth. With speed, they bound their hair.

Perdita crossed her fingers and led into a netherworld. Twenty steps into dimness presented no problem. However, at the base of the stairs, an unexpected intersection did.

“Well, left or right, smartie,” said Zel.

“Oh, let’s wing it,” Perdy crossed her toes.

Joq waited beside Zel until the redhead pointed her elegant finger and started, “Eenie, Meenie, Tipsy, Toe….”

Zel grabbed Perdy’s wrist, a tad firm.

“Where’s your ball of thread, honey? Seer mazes are no game.”

Joq interceded.

“Oh gorgeous; do Peri select a path taken? So as we Peri-do every day, let’s trust intuition and luck; I will lead the way!”

And off they traipsed, dainty and jumping behind Joq over wet seepage pools and muck. Sidestepping piles of God-only knows what types of bones — ducking their heads, avoiding bats flying out for dinner. They had a modicum of success, and sometimes morsels sustain a quest. The tunnel narrowed, and the walls hemmed close. In tight cramping, Joq thanked the stars; they were not big-hipped or buxom-bottomed. Eventually, they hit a dead end and wended backwards, Perdy in the lead. Zel, craning in a disoriented web-avoiding second, detected a hole overhead.

What followed involved insane squeezing and sullying of wing tips as her friends pushed Joq upwards. Next, she extended her arms downward and pulled Zarella up, supported by a rump heft from Perdita. A hand each, and they shoehorned the redhead through the gap.

“A tad less fruitcake, honey,” huffed a puffed Joq.

After spying ahead, she said, “We have found the labyrinth within the maze.”

Joq sensed the route wound ever tighter inwards and downwards. Their descent included a regular snapping and cracking, which broke the eerie greyness. She hoped Perdita ignored what crunched beneath their feet.

“Sticks, sweetie pie,” crushing another scorpion beneath her sandal and squishing a spider on the damp tunnel wall.

“An old net girlfriend,” the redhead reassured Zel.

Joq appreciated how Perdy eased aside the flapping remains of dense cobwebs brushed fast by herself.

Intent can be luck on a quest. The Peri showed plenty. But does good fortune solve a puzzle?

The narrow shaft opened into a chamber where high flames burned using a dripping pitch stream. The pine torches cast an intense but shadowed light.

“Oh, my God!” shrieked a googled eye Perdy on seeing a niche full of the lushest, exotic fruits. Lychees, half peeled, glistened. Decadent mulberries lay purple and plump. Apricots, blueberries, pineapples and mangoes. A riot of colours, textures and heady lip-smacking smells.

Zel’s fingers caressed long shelves of refined weaves. Bolts of silk, fabulous Tyrian purple, interlaced wool, and cotton twill.

Perdy poked at a juicy watermelon slice.

“Don’t eat the treat, honey,” Joq wagged a finger.

“I fear no free banquet.”

Perdita’s finger itched, and her wings flapped fast. Joq understood; Peri never denied a pleasure whim. Yet they faced a puzzle, blocking their audience before the seer.

“I suspect a choice! A dangerous one, where our decision either ends or prolongs our seeking.”

Joq pulled back her companions, clutching skirts by the handfuls.

“Let’s decide what will lead us to the seer.”

Zel shaped her hands in a market scale balance, calculating how much fabric she could carry.

Joq swallowed hard.

“Careful girls, I sense a challenge to our unreserved nature.”

“Okay, let’s be logical,” Perdy offered, miming eating grapes.

Zel said, “Sweetie, what’s your aim? A reasoned Peri first! Go stylish, I always say!”

Joq pinched her lips and tapered her fingers because Perdy started, “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe.”

And Zarella lapsed into a dreamy distraction, admiring her form in an enormous mirror.

Joq agreed the looking glass flattered her buddy whichever way she posed, front-on, side-on, peeking over her shoulder.

“Concentrate and help, please. We are likely dealing with a devious soul behind the wall?”

Joq eyeballed her friends.

“Okay, but what does the display mean? I see no theme,” said Perdy, fingering the lushest peach in creation.

“My God,” screamed Joq, though she didn’t believe in the Almighty, “The theme! The seven deadly sins. Well, for humans! Peri, don’t subscribe!”

Joq steepled her fingers, thankful the library of Alexandria’s endless scrolls provided more than stories.

“Explain, quick,” said Perdy, “I can’t resist the aroma of this split coconut!”

“Well, gluttony, greed and lust, your fruity wants cover those.”

“And the rest, you well-read, miss,” said Zel, petting a silk bolt.

“My cute friend, the human term is pride or vanity. We love what we wear and how we look. The mirror, honey.”

Zel completed a three-sixty sari swirling twirl.

“Sloth, who wants to work? Peri take!” said Joq, after a gentle tap on Perdy’s straying fingers seeking mulberries.

“And our envy piques at others’ enjoyment and brassy fussing when a scheme collapses.”

“Ah,” said Perdy. “Every Peri or human hanker lays in these phials, fruits, clothes, mirrors, and intoxicating liquids. Whilst the one piece of exquisite jewellery exists to bitch over or create a fight. The torc exudes refined craftsmanship!”

But she ignored the gold bracelet and sniffed a mango and a pineapple.

“Let’s have a snack while we decide!”

Perdy pretended to grab the lychees but slapped Joq’s thigh.

“Stop kidding, Sweetie. Do we choose for ourselves, or do we choose for the seer?” posed the Kazakh.

“Create a fruit salad,” said the redhead.

Joq suspected her playmate of a mixing and a matching, deciding which two fruits to gorge in a melliferous combination—followed by a skin of mead!

“Go stunning,” Zel interrupted.

After sliding a fingertip on a bolt of Tyrian purple, “No! Select the jaw-dropping!”

Joq said, “Girls, stay serious; this is serious.”

Her hands flew up high and wide — self-confronted — Peri were never solemn. At a loss, she slumped. Her thoughts darkened, so not a Peri. She questioned the point of being here. The stalking imp on the beach. The swarm above the empty fete at the sacred mound. Beyond contemplation, their Peri brethren a pile of bones.

Her friends raised Joq. After a rare set jaw, Perdy made the call.

“There is only one way, sweetie. The Peri way; choose, true to your heart’s desires at the moment’s whim.”

Joq clapped in agreement. So easy, their snappy way. Quicker than a magician’s hands, Zel snatched a bolt of fine Egyptian cotton. Typical Perdy grabbed the whopping juicy peach? And Joq confronted her complexities, balancing a pink phial potion in her left palm as she clutched the comely gold torc in her right. The label on the flask promised a love potion but commonsense, and the bouquet suggested honey and rosebuds.

Joq joined, feet tapping on a basalt floor. Nothing happened. She squinted at her sidekicks. She blushed, and so did her mates. The mutual; we look frickin stupid, clutching what we covet.

She screamed in unison beside her companions because the floor jolted and lowered. Joq stared ahead and quietened into independent fear. Black walls enclosed a steady drop. She resisted the temptation to use her wings and ascend. Trust, the promise on a beach, held Joq beside her friends. Come what may!

Their fall halted. Dread hung in the smothering air. She peered through a misty veil of dimness — no shape formed beyond a murk. A silhouette pirouetted. Joq’s eyes glanced at and away from the seer’s mutilated face. Her action synced with Zel and Perdy. Crucified silver eyes pierced the murk whilst a black-draped body pulsated in a dark-framed chair.

“No welcome but expected! Yes.”

The repulsive youth quaffed from a goblet. Joq gulped and chewed the inside of her cheek.