Divine by Choice (32 page)

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 would
have 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.

“She's pregnant?” My mind whirred. I studied her closely. She couldn't be much older than she had been in the last scene I had witnessed.
My Chosen One can only conceive if she mates with the High Shaman I fashion for her.
Memory of the Goddess's words whispered through my mind. If she was pregnant it had to be ClanFintan's child.

But the young ClanFintan had yet to be made a High Shaman. By his own admission he could not perform the Change into human form.

My stomach clenched at what her ripe belly implied.

“Drink, my Goddess.” The hypnotic sound of the words made me blink tears from my eyes and refocus on the scene.

The unmistakable form of Bres had entered the room. He was obviously much younger than the man I'd seen recently. I was surprised to note that his lean body held a kind of sculpted elegance. I could imagine him being used as a model for Calvin Klein in those black-and-white photos that show seminaked people lounging on a beach.

Guess he didn't age well. How tragic.

He held a goblet filled with thick red liquid to Rhiannon's lips. She drank greedily. I noticed her eyes had a glassy look that suggested she had already done quite a bit of drinking.

Not good for the baby, I thought.

Her head lolled back and Bres moved to the foot of the bier. He put the empty goblet down on a small table that stood next to him. Then he picked up a long, thin, wicked-looking object. It reminded me of a crochet hook, only it was longer and the top of the hook had been carved into a barbed point. He turned to face Rhiannon's feet, which were about chest level with him.

“Now you must come to me, my Goddess.”

Without speaking, Rhiannon scooted down toward him while she bent her knees and spread her naked legs.

It looked like she was getting ready for a bizarre Pap test.

With leather thongs that I had not noticed before, Bres tied her ankles in place. I could see that Rhiannon's hands were gripping the edge of the mat so tightly that her knuckles were white.

Rhiannon's legs had fallen open, and her sex was clearly visible, as was the soft mound of her belly. For a moment Bres's unnaturally bright eyes studied her exposed body, then with one hand he spread open her labia. With his other hand he inserted the evil-looking instrument deeply into her vagina.

Rhiannon's body tensed and jerked spasmodically. At the same instant the candles began to flicker wildly, like a vengeful Goddess had just loosed a breath of warning.

“No!” Rhiannon screamed, spittle flying from her pale lips. “I will not be used! I will choose! I will choose!”

As her tirade ended, Bres jabbed the hooked barb far within her writhing body, and in one swift motion he twisted and pulled it back out. With it came a gush of clear liquid tinged with blood. Quickly he wiped his hands clean on his thick robe and moved to the head of the bier.

“Now you will expel it.” Gently he wiped tears and sweat from her face. She buried her shaking head in the curve of his arm. “The juice of the poppy will ease your pain. It will be finished soon.”

The scene rippled and faded into night sky.

Tears were streaming unheeded down my ghostly cheeks. “But you said she couldn't get pregnant unless it was by a High Shaman. ClanFintan wasn't a High Shaman yet. He couldn't even change into human form.”

A High Shaman is not made, Beloved, he is born. As such, ClanFintan was a High Shaman from his first breaths.

“She killed his baby,” I said in disbelief.

As she orchestrated the death of the child, so too died her ability to feel compassion or mercy for others. Ruthlessness and self-indulgence consumed her, and I was compelled to sever the link between us. Soon guilt destroyed anything else left of good within her. And in place of that good, true evil began to take hold.

“So she really isn't Your Chosen.” I still felt shaky and nauseous.

I withdrew my favor, thus allowing her to exchange herself for you, my Beloved.

“Then why did you let me get pulled back to Oklahoma. Why am I not still in Partholon where I belong?”

Rhiannon and the darkness she dallies with must be
stopped. I cannot allow her to loose Nuada's evil upon your old world.

The night sky rippled again, then split and opened to expose the frigid blackness of the time portal.