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 woman
hood.
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.
Epona’s tone was not harsh or judgmental. It was resigned and sad, like she wished it could be another way.
Free will is not always an easy thing to bear.
I watched as the stallion-headed man once again moved toward Rhiannon. This time she backed away so quickly that she tripped on a cushion. Falling, she started to scream, but with a movement almost impossibly swift, the man leaped to her side and caught her in his arms, twisting so that when she fell she landed across his chest.
Her scream changed into a snarl.
“Do not touch me!” she spat.
Instead of obeying her he circled her shoulders with one arm, pulling her next to him and holding her securely to his side. With his free hand he parted her golden robe and began to explore the intimate parts of her soft, young body while he pressed her more firmly against his body. I saw her face grimace in horror as it inadvertently rubbed against the embalmed horse head.
She was trembling, but not with desire.
“I order you to unhand me!” She tried to keep her voice steady, but raw fear made her sound even younger than her years.
The man ignored her. Instead of letting her escape him, he reached between his own legs, ripping the leather covering away to expose an impressive erection.
“Why doesn’t he stop?” I asked breathlessly.
He cannot. He has taken the God’s potion, and the spirit of Cernunnos, Animal God and Hunter, lives within him. He must mate with my Chosen One to insure fertility for Partholon. My Beloved, you felt the call of the ritual when we entered the glade. Rhiannon’s ascension ceremony should have been filled with pleasure and desire, instead of horror and pain. There is no way to stop it. The Goddess’s voice was hollow. Not even my Chosen One is allowed to endanger Beltane and the fertility of Partholon.
The rape continued and our spirit bodies ascended through the domed ceiling along with the echoing screams of Rhiannon’s pain.
We floated silently far above the forest. I wondered what I wouldhave done at her age. Yes, I had been stubborn and willful, but I hadn’t been raised a cosseted, spoiled goddess whose every whim was indulged by nursemaids and slaves.
I knew that I would have taken the potion.
Observe the consequences, Beloved. As the Goddess spoke she waved her hand before us and the sky shimmered and rippled as if a stone had been thrown onto the smooth surface of a lake. When it cleared, images solidified and moved in front of us.
“It’s like a movie screen,” I said in awe.
Observe, the Goddess repeated.
I watched closely as scene upon scene flashed against the night sky. Rhiannon was growing older, so her appearance matured over the course of the vignettes, but that was all that matured. All of the images focused on sex. Sex with many different men in many different places and positions. The only factor that stayed consistent was that in each scene Rhiannon remained icily in control. Sometimes she would even stop in the middle of the act and order the man out of her sight. Sometimes she used a whip on her partner, even when it was obvious that he didn’t enjoy her sadistic play. I watched as she coupled with countless men, even when it was apparent to everyone involved that she received little pleasure from the act.
She does not allow herself pleasure. The act of lovemaking is a thing of darkness for Rhiannon, so that finally love itself became only darkness for her.
A thing of darkness—it was an insightful description. Time passed before our eyes and Rhiannon’s sex acts became more and more twisted, which seemed to reflect what happened to her personality as she gave in to the brokenness within her.
“I’m surprised she didn’t get pregnant,” I said.
My Chosen One can only conceive if she mates with the High Shaman I fashion for her.
At least that was some relief. I could only imagine what a horrible mother Rhiannon would be. Talk about Mommy Dearest.
The images changed once again and I felt a physical jolt as I recognized the form of a young centaur flash into the screen. ClanFintan approached Rhiannon and bowed to her. They were alone in the throne room of Epona’s Temple. I loved seeing my husband’s youthful image. He was not nearly as tall and muscular as he would grow to in adulthood, but he had the fine features that would be the foundation of what he would become. His shoulders were wide and his chest was deep. His jaw was already molded into strong, firm lines. His eyes were the same, dark and almond shaped, but they shone with naive pleasure instead of adult wisdom. He looked like an innocent, miniversion of his adult self.
“Well met, my Lady Rhiannon.” His voice was so boyish that it held only the shadow of the deep velvet base it would attain in years to come.
“I am informed that it has been foretold that you will become a High Shaman,” Rhiannon’s voice purred, which made my hair stand on end in warning. It didn’t have a similar effect on young ClanFintan.
“Yes, my Lady. So it has been prophesied.” He sounded proud and eager.
I remembered how guarded and withdrawn he had been when we had first met, and I wanted to leap into the screen and throw my arms around him, shielding him from whatever hurtful
things Rhiannon had planned. But Epona held up a mist-shrouded hand and I controlled my impulse.
Observe, Beloved.
Rhiannon stood, and then walked languidly down the steps that led from her throne. She slowly circled the young centaur, who stood almost motionless, curiously observing her.
“You might do very well.” Her voice was seductive and she moved close to him, letting one hand trail from his human shoulder down his chest to where man met horse. Then she continued the caress all the way around his body, walking with slow, sensuous steps. I could see the centaur’s skin ripple and twitch in response.
“I believe, my Lady, that we will do very well together.” His voice had deepened seductively. “I, too, am pleased that Fate has decreed that someday we can be mated.”
Rhiannon’s sarcastic laughter rang mockingly. “I was not speaking of mating, you fool. I was speaking of amusement.”
Before ClanFintan could reply, she reached up and unpinned the brooch that held the diaphanous material of her wrap around her body. She shrugged her shoulder in a movement that I had performed myself for this same centaur. Then she stood naked in front of him.
I saw ClanFintan’s breath deepen, and when he finally spoke, his voice trembled. “I am not yet a High Shaman. I cannot perform the Change into human form, my Lady.”
Again that mocking, poisoned laughter. “I have been with many human men, but I have never been with a centaur. If you could attain human form I would not find you nearly so interesting.”
I could see his young brow furrow in confusion as she stepped into his arms, her body already undulating to a rhythm she alone could hear.
I closed my eyes. “Stop! I don’t want to see any more of this!” Anger, betrayal and jealousy warred within me.
Observe, Beloved, she repeated. There is only one scene left for you to witness.
I opened my eyes slowly. The screen had changed again. I didn’t immediately recognize Rhiannon’s bedchamber. Hundreds of candelabra illuminated the room. A bier raised well off the floor had replaced her huge bed. On top of the bier lay a flat mat of tightly woven rushes. Rhiannon lay atop the mat. She was naked, and the small swell of her abdomen was easy for me to recognize.