Divine by Blood

  Escape through the Divide, child. The blood sacrifice has been made.

  Morrigan looked frantically around her. The voice in the wind seemed too real, like it belonged to someone who was standing beside her. It was a woman’s voice. She’d heard it before within the host of voices that populated her imagination, though not often. It definitely wasn’t the voice she’d heard exclusively since she’d entered the cave.

  More of the ceiling fell around her and Morrigan wiped tears and dirt from her eyes.

  You must escape now, child, the voice repeated.

  “I don’t know how!” she sobbed.

  Yes, you do. Believe in yourself and let the crystals guide you.

  Morrigan turned around and faced the boulder, embracing it as if it was the mother whose arms would never hold her.

  “Take me out of here!” she cried.

  We hear you, Light Bringer…

  While the world trembled and fell apart around her, Morrigan felt herself falling forward into the warm, soft mass of the boulder where she was engulfed in liquid and pressure. She tried to draw a breath, and could not. She tried to scream, and could not. Frantically, Morrigan flailed about, panic overwhelming her. She was suffocating!

  Believe in yourself, child…

  That voice! Morrigan wrenched her eyes open and felt shock suffuse her body. Standing in front of her, long red hair and gossamer robes suspended around her as if she was floating underwater, was the woman whose face had smiled out at her from countless photos. Morrigan realized that she had been right. This woman’s smile wasn’t as open and joyous as Shannon’s had been, but it was kind, even if it was so obviously sad.

  Come, daughter. Your destiny awaits. You have much yet to do.

  Rhiannon held her hand out. Morrigan grasped it and suddenly she was being pulled through the thick, suffocating pressure and flung out onto the jarring hardness of a stone floor. She couldn’t see and couldn’t breathe. Then, with a painful gasp, she was choking and vomiting bitterness from her lungs.

  Morrigan’s final thought before unconsciousness, thick and cloying in its darkness, claimed her was that if she had just seen her mother she was probably dead…

  PART III

  CHAPTER 1

  Partholon

  Right before my life was destroyed I was grooming Epi, thinking that the crisp fall morning would be an excellent time for us to go for a brisk ride. “We may be old,” I told the mare, whose silver-gray ears tilted back to listen to me, “but we can still enjoy a nice morning canter. My thighs are up to it, how about yours, old girl?”

  Epi snorted in response and reached around to lip at my leather riding pants. I laughed and gently pushed her head away. “You’re so fresh! Especially for an old—”

  “Rhea! You must come. Now.”

  Frowning, I turned from Epi to see Alanna running (running?) toward me. Her face was so unnaturally pale that I felt my stomach instantly tighten in response. Something was terribly wrong.

  I handed the curry brush to the stable nymph who seemed to appear magically, and gave Epi’s nose a quick kiss. I couldn’t help but notice that the mare had gone still and silent and was staring at Alanna with a dark, unwavering gaze, which caused a tremor of terrible foreboding to shiver through me. I hurried out of the stall to meet Alanna. She barely waited for me to reach her before she began to quickly retrace her path out of the barn. I hurried to keep up with her as we rushed into the temple proper.

  “What is it?”

  “Myrna. The baby is coming.”

  Instantly I was thrilled and scared shitless. It was the middle of August, and I’d been visiting my very pregnant, very moody daughter almost daily at her new home on Grant’s (no, I wasn’t calling him the troll anymore—or at least not to his face and, well, not often) family’s land which adjoined the grounds of Epona’s Temple. Myrna was beyond ready to deliver my granddaughter, and I didn’t blame her. I totally remembered the feeling of being too pregnant to do anything comfortably. So this should be a joyous day. I glanced sideways at Alanna’s colorless face, and the first of several awful thoughts struck me. We shouldn’t be hurrying into my temple. We should be rushing around, saddling Epi and various and sundry lesser horses (I don’t include my husband in this group), and hotfooting or hoofing it to the McClures’ vineyard to attend the birth.

  “What’s gone wrong?”

  Alanna didn’t look at me. “They brought Myrna in just a few moments ago. Carolan is with her. He sent a centaur runner to bring ClanFintan in from the archery range. I came to get you.”

  I grabbed her arm and forced her to look at me. “Is it bad?”

  She nodded tightly and I could see that she was fighting tears. “Carolan says there’s too much blood. Something…” She paused, swallowed hard, and then continued. “He said something has broken inside her.”

  “No…” I was barely able to whisper the word. Everything within me chilled. It was like I suddenly lost all the warmth in my own blood. Alanna took my hand and we ran through the courtyard for the part of the temple that housed the infirmary. My personal guards, silent and somber, pulled open the doors for us so that we entered the infirmary with no impediments.

  “This way, my Lady,” said a stone-faced young woman I recognized as one of the temple’s nurses. She led us to an inner room. Just before I opened the door she touched my shoulder, respectful yet firm. “My Lady, you should prepare yourself. Your daughter will need your strength.”

  Automatically I narrowed my eyes, wanting to strike out at her and vent my terror and rage, to tell her she shouldn’t presume anything about what my daughter needed, but what I saw in her eyes silenced my words before I could speak them.

  I saw the surety of death.

  I turned away from her and Alanna and leaned my forehead against the pale peach-colored wall. Oh, Epona, I prayed fervently, don’t let this happen! Myrna can’t die. I can’t lose her. I beseech you as your Beloved, as your Chosen One, if you need a life, take me! But please don’t take my child.

  Epona’s voice was almost unbearably kind within my mind. Sometimes fate works in ways even a goddess cannot change, my Beloved. But know that Myrna is my child, too, daughter of my Chosen Beloved, and that she will dwell eternally within my soft meadows and—

  “No!” I cried, covering my ears like a child. “No,” I sobbed brokenly. I felt Alanna’s arms go around me and I allowed myself to cling to her for just a moment before I pulled away and wiped my face with the sleeve of my silk shirt. There would be time enough for tears later. The nurse was right. Myrna needed my strength, not my hysterics. I nodded at the nurse. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  The room was immaculate and it seemed smaller than I knew it was because of the press of women who surrounded the narrow bed that stood in the center of it. I ignored them, though somewhere in my mind I registered that what they were humming was a variation of the Partholon birthing song I had never before heard. It was a softer, gentler version of the joyous welcome that had greeted Myrna’s birth eighteen years earlier. It was still sweet, melodic and anciently rhythmic—like a heartbeat put to music—but there was no laughing and impromptu dancing. As soon as they saw me the women parted to let me near Myrna.

  My daughter was between contractions. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing heavily. Instead of being flushed and pink-cheeked, Myrna’s face was as colorless as Alanna’s. Her lips were tinged with blue. She was naked. Her stomach was a huge, swollen mound, covered by a fine linen sheet. I glanced down toward her feet where Carolan stood looking gray and weary and stone-faced as he examined her. He handed one of his assistants a thick linen cloth that was soaked with blood. His eyes met mine and he didn’t need to say anything. I already knew what was happening. Grant was standing at the head of the bed, looking as pale as his wife. When I smiled at him and moved closer to Myrna he looked as if he was going to cry with relief.

  I took Myrna’s hand and kissed her forehead, pressing my cheek to hers. “Hello, Mama’s pr
ecious.” I whispered the endearment I’d greeted her with so many times in her childhood.

  Her eyes fluttered weakly and then opened to focus on my face. “Mama! I’m so glad you’re here. I meant to call for you sooner, but everything happened so fast and then it—” She broke off as a contraction took control of her body. Her grip on my hand tightened, viselike, and she cried out in pain, her eyes going wide and glassy with panic.

  “It’s okay, sweetie. Look at Mama—breathe with me, precious girl. Mama’s right here. Everything will be okay. Look at Mama…” Myrna clung to my hand and to my voice, seeming to anchor herself to me through the wrenching pain. When the contraction finally passed, both of us were panting heavily. I took a cool, wet cloth from one of the women standing nearby and wiped Myrna’s forehead, while Grant smoothed back her sweat-drenched hair and murmured endearments to her.

  “I can see your daughter, Myrna.” Carolan spoke in a calm, reassuring voice. “She is clearly proving how unique she is already, because she’s insisting on entering this world rear-end first instead of headfirst, so this next part will be the most difficult for you, but with the next contraction I want you to center yourself and then push with all your heart and soul.”

  Myrna didn’t open her eyes. “I don’t think I can,” she whispered.

  “Yes, you can, my Precious One.” I bent and kissed her wet forehead. “I’ll help you. Hold tight to my hand and use my strength.” I had the Goddess-given ability to channel earth power, but it was much more effective when I was physically in contact with an ancient tree. Frantically, I wondered if there was time to move Myrna outside. If I could get her into the forest that surrounded the temple, would that save her? Could I channel enough power through the trees to give her the energy to survive this birth?

  You cannot change her destiny, Beloved. It will only cause her unneeded pain. I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out in response to Epona’s words. Please don’t let her suffer, I sent the fervent prayer to the Goddess, and her answer came swift and sure. You have my oath, I will not allow her to suffer, Beloved.

  “I’m so glad you’re here, Mama,” Myrna repeated. Her voice was weak, but her grip on my hand was unnaturally strong.

  “So am I, Mama’s precious,” I said softly.

  She smiled up at me. “Mama’s precious. You haven’t called me that in years.”

  “I may have stopped calling you my precious, but that’s how I’ve always thought of you,” I told her.

  “Mama,” she said so softly that I had to bend close to her to hear her. “I’m afraid.”

  I put my arm around her, cradling her against me. “There’s nothing to be frightened of, sweet girl. I’m here. Epona’s here. And soon, your daughter will be here.”

  “Be sure you take care of her for me, Mama. And take care of Grant, too. He’ll need you.”

  I felt her words send a physical jolt of pain through my body. “You’ll be here to take care of your daughter and to take Grant’s side when we argue about her bedtime and me feeding her too many sweets.”

  Myrna’s eyes met mine steadily. “I know something’s wrong, Mama.”

  I was saved from answering by ClanFintan bursting into the room.

  “Da!” she cried.

  Again, women parted so that he could stand on the other side of her bed. As I had, he bent to kiss her damp forehead. “Ah, my bonny sweet girl, how goes it with you?” He spoke to Myrna, but he looked at me. I saw the despair within his dark, almond-shaped eyes.

  “It’s hard, Da, and—” Myrna began, then interrupted herself with “—it’s starting again!”

  “You must push with this one, Myrna!” Carolan ordered.

  ClanFintan, Grant and I propped up Myrna’s straining body, all three of us speaking encouragement to her while she gritted her teeth and pushed with all of her failing strength. Then there was what seemed like only a second’s rest, and again Carolan was calling for her to push. I did not count how many times this cycle repeated—push…a moment’s rest…push…I do remember glancing down Myrna’s swollen, struggling body to see Carolan take a knife from one of his silent assistants. There was an awful, ripping sound. Then before I could speak, another contraction hit Myrna and she screamed as her daughter finally slid from her body in a river of blood.

  Then everything happened incredibly fast.

  “Does she live? Does she live?” Myrna kept repeating over and over. I was trying to soothe her and see what was going on at the foot of the bed with Carolan and then, blessedly, the strong, distinctive cry of a newborn filled the room, echoed by a shout of joy from the watching women.

  Carolan handed the swaddled, crying infant to Alanna, who had been standing silent and pale not far from him. Alanna, cooing softly, brought the baby to Myrna. Myrna’s arms went eagerly around the bundle and we all peered down at the tiny, red-faced girl child who was quite obviously perfect.

  “Hello, Etain,” Myrna said. “I’m so happy you are finally here.”

  We were all crying, and Grant and Myrna were kissing their baby while ClanFintan and I touched her sweet, tiny arms and feet. I was filled with such incredible love and happiness that I had begun to believe that everything would be okay after all.

  Then Myrna gasped and moaned. Her eyes flew up to mine. “Mama…”

  Moving completely on instinct, I lifted Etain gently from her mother’s arms, kissed her amazingly soft head and then handed her to her father. “Grant, hold her close to Myrna, so she can see her and touch her.” I didn’t have to add even after she no longer has the strength to hold her. Grant’s tear-streaked face told me he understood. I took ClanFintan’s hand and drew him beside me, so that he and I were pressed closely to one side of Myrna, her husband and child to the other.

  A spasm rippled down through Myrna’s body and the fecund, metallic scent of birthing blood mixed with fresh hemorrhaging wafted over us. At some level I was aware that Carolan was working to try to stem the seemingly endless blood that was flowing so swiftly from Myrna’s body that it was spilling onto the floor and spreading in a scarlet pool. I could hear ClanFintan begin the soft chant of a High Shaman preparing to soothe the passing of a newly freed soul and to encourage it in its journey to Epona’s meadows. I knew he was weeping openly, but his prayer never wavered and the ancient magic in it filled the room so completely that I could feel its power brush against my skin.

  But I did not look away from my daughter’s face. Her eyes locked on mine, clearly searching for reassurance. I pushed aside my bottomless sorrow and focused on Myrna. My daughter needed me once more in her life. I was Epona’s Chosen, the Goddess’s High Priestess. I could do this. I could bring her comfort and ease her passing.

  “It’s going to be okay, Mama’s precious.” I smiled gently at her and stroked her hair. “You have nothing to fear. Epona has known you and loved you since the moment she rejoiced at your birth.”

  “I—I believe you, Mama.” Her voice broke. She turned her head so that she could see Etain. “Tell her I’m sorry, Mama. Tell Etain that I love her and that I’ll miss her.”

  I nodded and struggled not to sob. Help me, Epona! Instantly, I was filled with a sense of calm that I knew came from my goddess.

  “I will tell her, sweet girl.” My voice was strong and sure. “I will tell Etain stories of her mother’s beauty and wit and love.”

  Myrna looked from her daughter to me. “Thank you, Mama.” Another spasm shook her already exhausted body and she closed her eyes. I held tightly to her hand, willing the Goddess’s comfort from me to her. Her eyes opened slowly and refocused on me. “It—it doesn’t hurt, Mama. And I’m not afraid anymore.” Then her gaze drifted up and over my shoulder. Her eyes widened. “Oh, Mama! It’s Epona! She’s so beautiful.” Her face was suddenly lit by incredible joy. “She’s speaking to me. Epona says that she did give me a gift of magic, and that gift is Etain. She’ll be a great priestess, beloved and honored by Partholon, and her children will be great priestesses and warriors.?
?? Myrna drew in a rasping breath and her body shuddered again, but it seemed that she was already removed from the physical realm, because the joyous look on her face didn’t falter. Still staring over my shoulder, she said, “I love you, Mama. I’ll wait for you with Epona…” Smiling, Myrna let out a long, weary sigh, and then she breathed no more.

  I kissed Myrna and bowed my head. “Go with the Goddess, Mama’s precious. We’ll be together again someday, in Epona’s bright meadows, where there is no death or pain or sorrow. Until then, I will miss you every moment of every day, and keep you in my heart.”

  “My Lady.”

  I looked up to see Grant, tears falling down his cheeks, holding out to me the swaddled bundle that was my granddaughter.

  “She looks like Myrna,” he said in an utterly broken voice.

  I took the baby, who did, indeed, look like a miniature version of her dead mother, and, holding her close to my heart, I wept.

  CHAPTER 2

  Morrigan’s head was killing her. She’d had headaches before, but nothing like this pounding, splintering pain that was jabbing through her skull. She thought that this must be what a migraine felt like. No wonder people who had them said they sucked royally. Great. As if she didn’t have enough crap to deal with in her life—voices in the wind, the weird ability to make flames sprout from her hand, the weirder ability to hear crystals and to make them glow, the fact that her dead mom wasn’t her dead mom. Actually, that reminded her. Kyle was dead and—

  And Morrigan’s memory slammed through the foggy curtains of pain and disorientation in her mind.

  The cave-in! Kyle! Her grandparents! Moving through the crystal boulder!