Divine by Choice (31 page)

Read Divine by Choice Online

Authors: P.C. Cast

BOOK: Divine by Choice
9.24Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

“What events?” I was intrigued.

Rhiannon's fall.
The Goddess's voice was heavy with sadness.

“You're right. I do want to know.” After all, in many ways Rhiannon seemed a part of me. I felt compelled to understand how she had become so twisted.

It will be a difficult journey, Beloved. We must travel through the layers of time, and we may stay only briefly. Do not speak. Touch nothing. You may only observe the past, not interact with it.

“Kind of like Scrooge's trip with the Ghost of Christmas Past?” I guessed.

I thought I felt the tinkling of my Goddess's laughter for a moment, then the words,
Ready yourself, my Chosen One. Remember that I am with you.

That sounded ominous, but before I could become too afraid I started
floating up into the dark, starless sky. I went higher and higher, through the thick layer of snow-filled clouds until I popped out into the cold, silent night sky. More stars than I had ever before seen, even in Partholon, surrounded me. It looked like a goddess had broken a diamond-stranded necklace, and scattered the faceted beads across a blanket of black velvet. Then in front of me the sky rippled and opened. I just had time to peer into the shaft of darkness when I felt my soul ripped from its place in the night and thrown down that tunnel of colorless, churning black.

Instantly it was cold. Normally, I can't actually feel my body when I am on a Magic Sleep journey, but in this shaft of timelessness I was only too aware of myself. Every nerve screamed at the frigid nothingness. I felt a thousand tiny frozen needles piercing my body. My soul quaked in terror and I tried to wrench open my mouth to scream, but the blackness of the tunnel absorbed all sound, and I was left to suffer in silent agony.

I burst out into the calm of another night's sky.

I floated over the distinctive pearlized marble of Epona's Temple. The fragrant air of a warm spring night wrapped my trembling soul in loving arms. I felt my terror abate, and I breathed deeply, instantly reassured and relaxed. A wealth of richly blooming lilacs surrounded the enormous mineral spring fountain that gushed heated water up into the night. I sighed in pleasure as I took in the beautifully familiar scene beneath me.

Then I blinked in confusion.

I didn't remember any lilac bushes anywhere by the plunging horse fountain. I studied the creamy walls of the temple. Stands of blooming ornamental trees surrounded by carpets of flowers dotted the area that spread outside the temple gates.

Those weren't there before.

The final shock was the long, waving strands of flowering ivy that dripped thick fingers of fragrant red and yellow blossoms from the balustraded walls of the temple.

None of this had been there when the temple had been mine. My temple was a beautiful place, yes, but it wasn't a palace dedicated solely to the worship of beauty, it was a warrior's temple. As such, it had to be kept in a state of readiness for war. This temple looked dressed for a party.

The One who was my Chosen before Rhiannon had grown quite old.

The Goddess's voice was still in my head, but this time her presence seemed more tangible than ever before. A movement in the sky beside me caused me to turn my attention from the odd scene below. My breath caught as I saw the glistening outline of my Goddess. Epona's body wavered once and then became visible. She was magnificent. A thick mane of blond hair, the color of ripe wheat, swirled around her, partially obscuring her face. She wore a linen drape that glowed with the same marbleized pearl as the walls of her temple beneath us. It floated around her like gauze, clinging sensually to her graceful curves.

I was wordlessly studying her when she turned to me.

“Oh! Goddess…” My voice trailed off and my head bowed in wordless supplication. I had never seen anything like her. She was beauty sculpted from time immemorial. She was what artists had been trying to re-create for age upon age. To be so tangibly in her presence left me speechless.

With a smile that radiated love and understanding, she passed a hand over her face and her image was obscured so that I was now looking into a glistening mist that had her form.

The One who was my Chosen before Rhiannon had grown quite old.
I realized she had repeated her earlier words.
She had a daughter, but as sometimes happens, the child had grown up with no affinity for my service.

I found I could breathe and think again, and now that her image wasn't as clearly discernible, I was able to focus on what she was saying.

With her passing I Chose Rhiannon as my next Incarnate, but she was just a child, toddling amidst her elders. So my
lesser Priestesses cared for my Temple until my young Chosen came of age.
I heard no reproach in her voice, only the fond amusement of a parent toward an errant child.
They allowed the flowers to thrive and the Temple to become less than I desired it to be. I knew my Chosen One would restore things to order when she came of age. What I didn't know was that the Priestesses who nursemaided her had indulged her so much that they caused damage within her which could not be so easily undone.

Let us witness her ascension ceremony.

The Goddess's hand waved and the scene below us shifted. We now floated suspended over a lovely clearing within the forest that surrounded the temple.

“It's the clearing with the two ancient trees,” I said.

Yes, Beloved. It is a holy grove. Tonight we witness the celebration of Beltane, the season after Rhiannon's first womanly courses.

Hugh bonfires were placed all along the edge of the clearing. Around each fire young men and women danced and drank—no one had on many clothes (which was typical for a Rhiannon-led ceremony), and everyone seemed to be having a riotous good time. Music swelled into the night and I felt my heart begin to beat in nameless anticipation.

Beside me the Goddess's laugh tinkled like a flowing brook.
You feel the call of Beltane even now, do you not, Beloved?

“I sure feel something.” I hesitated then added, “Something good.”

Epona's laughter filled me with unspeakable joy. Happily, I studied the glade. Next to the little stream and very near the huge twin trees a tent had been erected. It reminded me of something romantic and beautiful out of
The Arabian Nights.
It had a domed top and five sides that angled up to swirling mini-domes. There was a hole in the middle of the structure, and a steady stream of smoke lifted into the otherwise clear night sky. The flap that covered the entrance to the tent was closed securely, but light escaped from inside, lending the chartreuse fabric a magical glow.

Observe,
the Goddess said as we descended through the ceiling of the tent.

A single fire burning in a brass tripod in the center of the tent lit the interior with a flickering tongue of flame-colored light. The floor was richly carpeted with woven golden mats. The only furniture was gigantic piles of velvet-covered pillows, all dyed the bright crimson color of new blood.

“I said I won't drink it!” the girl's voice snapped. I grinned as I recognized the voice. It was me—or rather Rhiannon—as a teenager. Trust me; I'd know that smart-alecky tone anywhere.

“But my Lady, the Chosen One always drinks of the Goddess's wine before the ascension ritual.” The sweet voice of a very young Alanna sounded exhausted and worried. In the dim light I could see well enough to appreciate the incredible workmanship of the decorative goblet that she was offering her mistress. Then Rhiannon roughly knocked it from Alanna's hand. Rich red liquid rained on the golden carpet.

“I am Goddess Incarnate. I do as I choose, and I choose—” she hissed the words, foreshadowing her adult cruelty “—not to drink the potion.”

“My Lady,” Alanna tried to reason with her. “The Goddess's wine allows the ceremony to be pleasurable for the Chosen One. That is why Epona requires her Beloved to drink of it. It is only of you that the Goddess thinks.”

“Ha! Epona thinks of her own pleasure and of controlling me. Concern for me has very little to do with what moves her.” She sounded sullen. I remember using that tone with Dad once when I was a teenager. It had had something to do with wanting to stay out after curfew. I also remember very distinctly that he had promptly grounded me. His exact words were, “Shannon Christine, you're grounded until you're a better human being.” Unfortunately for Rhiannon, I didn't see any evidence of her dad (or mine for that matter), or anyone who could stop her from being such a damn brat.

“My Lady, you are the Beloved of a Goddess, Her Chosen. She wants you to follow the path that is best for you,” young Alanna continued, obviously distraught.

“I refuse. I prefer to keep my wits. Now leave me and let the ceremony begin.” Rhiannon made a haughty gesture of dismissal. Reluctantly, Alanna collected the goblet and backed slowly from the tent.

I watched the young Rhiannon intently. With jerky movements she stood and began pacing back and forth over the small floor space that wasn't filled with cushions. She ran her hands absently through her hair, and I gave a start at the familiarity of the gesture. I'd had the same habit for thirty-plus years. It was a surreal experience, observing this mirrored shadow from the past. She was wearing a golden robe that had only a slit for her head and two armholes. It tied together in the front, but every time she moved it floated open to reveal her firm, naked body.

“Ah, youth,” I muttered, appreciating the sleekness of fresh womanhood.

Rhiannon's hands suddenly rose to cover her ears, like a child trying to block a parent's words.

“No! Get out of my head! No one tells me what to do! I will have it my way, not yours!” she screamed into the empty tent.

I realized that she must have been yelling at Epona, and my gaze shifted to the mistlike figure beside me.

Always headstrong,
the Goddess whispered sadly.

“Tell me about it,” I agreed. I had certainly backed myself into many mistakes through my stubbornness (example: my starter husband, a man Dad had been dead set against me marrying), but I realized that though I had made mistakes I had also learned from them and grown because I'd been given structure and discipline, two things it appeared Rhiannon had been severely lacking.

Then the door to the tent was thrown aside and a remarkable figure entered. He was a tall male, human in every aspect, except on his shoulders sat the head of a horse.

“What the…?” burst from my mouth.

Do not fear. He is a human male. The head is that of the last stallion to mate with my Chosen mare.

“You kill the stallion afterward?” I asked, horrified. I was thinking sympathetically of Epi's mate.

The Goddess's voice sounded amused.
He is sacrificed painlessly only after he has become old and infirm. Until then he lives the cosseted life of a beloved Chieftain.

I took a deep, relieved breath and continued watching. Rhiannon had quit her frenzied pacing and had taken her hands from her ears as the man entered the tent. He strode purposefully toward her, but Rhiannon took two quick steps and backed away from him. This seemed to confuse the man, and he halted near the fire. Rhiannon and I studied him. The firelight was kind to a body that didn't need dim lighting to look good. He was gorgeous—a man very obviously at the peak of virility. Naked except for a small leather triangle slung low on his firm hips, his tanned skin glistened in the flickering light. He was breathing hard, and his muscular chest rose and fell powerfully. He looked like he had just walked off afield of battle. And he had definitely been victorious. I felt an erotic ripple of feeling in response to the seductive male image he represented so well.

“Where did you find him?” I whispered.

The male was chosen from my private guard. The right to usher My Chosen One into womanhood is a great honor.

So it was through a fertility ritual that Rhiannon ascended to power. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. My eyes found Rhiannon again. She wasn't even sixteen yet—and by her lack of response she must be a virgin.

She has remained untouched, as tradition dictates.
As usual, the Goddess anticipated my questions.
That is why she should have taken the potion. It allows the veils between worlds to be lifted. I enter my Chosen One and the passage to womanhood is a pleasurable one. But she usurped my will, therefore she must pay a price for that disobedience.

Other books

Pink & Patent Leather by Jackson, Candy
Anything but Mine by Linda Winfree
Stolen Chances by Elisabeth Naughton
Removal by Murphy, Peter
Gently in the Sun by Alan Hunter
The Exorcist by William Peter Blatty
Slaughtermatic by Steve Aylett
In His Good Hands by Joan Kilby