The Forest House (22 page)

"At the full moon before Samaine, then, you shall speak your vows in the presence of the priestesses. Lhiannon and your grandfather will be greatly pleased.”

Eilan stared at her. She was certainly not doing this for their sake! Caillean had asked her to choose, but had her decision in fact been molded by her family's expectations and perhaps other forces dimly hovering in the shadows beyond perception?

"Caillean—” she whispered, reaching out to the priestess. "If I vow myself to the Goddess, it will not be because I am the daughter and granddaughter of Druids, or even because I will never see Gaius again. There has to be something more.”

Caillean looked at her. "When we first met it seemed to me you had a destiny among us,” she said slowly. "I feel it even more strongly now. But I cannot guarantee that you will be happy, child.”

"I do not expect to be—” Eilan caught her breath on a sob. "So long as there is some
reason,
some purpose, in it all!”

Caillean sighed and held out her arms, and Eilan leaned against her, feeling the tightness in her throat ease as the other woman stroked her hair.

"There is always a reason, my dear, though it may be long before we understand it—that is all the comfort I can offer you. If the Goddess does not know what She is doing, what meaning is there in the world?”

"It is enough,” whispered Eilan, hearing the other woman's heart beating, steady and slow, beneath her ear. "If I also have your love.”

"You do…” Caillean's voice was almost too low to be heard. "I love you as Lhiannon has loved me…”

 

The full moon looked down from the heavens like a watchful eye, as if Arianrhod had personally decided to observe the ceremonies. As the chanting of the priestesses who had brought her here faded to silence, an inner chill pebbled Eilan's arms, though the night was warm. Had she been hoping for rain? It would have made no difference; if the Druids had allowed the weather to affect their rituals they would not have had much of a religion. She knew she should be glad that the skies had chosen to bless her initiation, but the moonlight made her uneasy.

At least the brightness should make it easier to follow the path, and all the priestesses had asked was that she walk through the forest back to the temple, which did not seem a great ordeal. Eager for it to be done, Eilan hurried into the shadows beneath the trees, away from the moon's implacable gaze.

She had been walking for scarcely the time it takes to spin a yard of thread when she realized that she was lost.

Controlling her breathing, Eilan turned. This, she supposed, must be the first test of her training, to see if she could use her inner senses to find her way. She drew on the steady power of the earth beneath her—that, at least, had not changed. The energies of moon and stars sang above, and as she opened herself to become the pillar that linked them, breathing out and in in regular rhythm until she knew herself to be at the center of the universe, the fear went away.

She opened her eyes once more. The panic was gone, but the moonlight that filtered through the leaves seemed to be coming from all quarters at once, and she had no idea in which direction the temple lay. Still, if she chose a direction and walked in it she should eventually get through the forest. Once, she had been told, all this island had been covered by trees, but now the land was dotted with roads and pastures and fields. Surely she could not walk for long without finding someone who could show her the way.

Humming softly, Eilan made her way forward, and only later realized that what she had been singing was the song the priestesses chanted at the rising of the moon.

As she walked, the dappled radiance of the moon transformed the world, and she understood why it had made her afraid. Each twig was outlined in silver; the leaves glittered, and light danced and flickered from every stone…but now Eilan realized that she was seeing something more than moonlight. Every living thing in the forest had its own glow—a radiance that increased until she could see almost as well as in the light of day. But it was not day, for this light was shadowless, a diffuse illumination in which the colors of the forest glowed like muted jewels. With a little shiver she understood that somehow she had passed the boundary that separates the fields of men from the Otherworld.

Truly it was as her teachers had told her; the Land of the Living and the world of men lay like the folds in a cloak, and where they touched, one could pass easily from one to the other. Or perhaps it was only sometimes that the worlds came thus closely together—at times like this, when the priestesses had sung the sacred songs.

The wood she had entered was filled with oak and hazel and thorn like any other. Now some of the trees she saw were familiar, but others were of no race she knew. Next to a thriving oak she glimpsed a tree with silver bark and little flowers of gold. A rowan tree bore white blossoms and red berries at the same time, though in the human world the flowering time had passed and the berries were not yet ripening on the bough.

Blossoms filled the air with a heady perfume. Now that she could see her way she walked with more confidence, her delight almost making her forget why she had come. Dimly she realized that this seduction of the senses might be the greatest danger, and tried to remember her goal. A lingering sense of duty, more than any other emotion, drew her to a halt in a small clearing where silver birches and rowans rustled in the fragrant breeze like maidens watching a festival. She closed her eyes.

"Lady, help me! Powers that dwell in this place, I honor you—” she said softly. "Of your favor, show me where I need to go…”

When she looked again, she glimpsed through the trees an avenue edged with rough stones. She moved along it, walking with the graceful pacing gait the maidens had been taught to use in the ceremonies. Presently the road passed between two great uprights carved with spirals and chevrons. Beyond them Eilan saw a pool whose waters glimmered as if reflecting the light of the hidden moon.

Hardly daring to breathe, Eilan moved between the great stones, and looked down into the pool. This at least had been part of her training, for one of her first skills was to see in the scrying bowl. A sudden wind ruffled the waters, and as they cleared she realized that the bowl had been like a candle to the sun beside the power of the pool.

In its depths Eilan saw the sea, glittering emerald and sapphire beneath a sky like translucent blue glass. As she stared, pool and forest and stones all disappeared and she floated like a bird on the wing above the waves. Embraced by those waters was an island girt with cliffs of red sandstone, crowned by white temples set among groves of dark trees. On the highest hill stood a temple greater than all the others, whose roof gleamed with gold.

Eilan swooped lower, and saw a white-robed woman pacing along the parapet, gazing out to sea. There was gold on the woman's neck and wrists, gold bound her brow, and her hair was like flame, but she had Caillean's eyes. A young man emerged from the temple and knelt before her, pressing his head against her belly. As the priestess blessed him, Eilan saw the tattooed dragons coiling up his arms. And it seemed to her that a voice like falling raindrops sang—

Even as the singing faded, the scene changed. She had the sense that many years had passed. Suddenly the center of the island exploded in a great gout of ruddy flame, and the waters rose like a wall of green glass and swallowed trees and temples and all. Even as the island fell, a fleet of ships sped away from it, leaping through the water like frightened gulls. One with a dragon painted on its sail she followed as it arrowed through the water, faring northward until silver mists blotted out the sun's radiance, and the sea grew gray and green as the waters she knew.

Now she saw land once more, white cliffs and high grassy downs. Over hill and dale she soared, and came to a high, broad plain where long lines of men toiled with ropes, dragging great blocks of stone. Part of the henge was in place already and she could envision the rest of it. She had heard the Giants' Dance described often enough to recognize the great circle of stones. The man who was directing the work looked like her father, but he deferred to another who reminded her of Gaius, shorter and dark as a Silure tribesman, but vibrant with power. The second man gestured towards the henge, and she saw the dragons that had been tattooed upon his forearms ripple as the muscles moved.

A wind stroked the high grass of the plain, and when it passed, the scene had changed once more. Fascinated, Eilan watched as one image followed another. Coloring and cast of feature changed as each new people came into the land. But again and again she recognized an expression or gesture that was familiar—her grandfather's touch on a harp; Lhiannon's regal grace; and even herself, riding in a chariot like a queen. A tall man rode beside her, and she knew that it was he whose touch had given her access to her own power.

Came that clear voice from beyond the world.

The last image was of a hill of knobbed granite where the purple heather grew. Chill winds swept eastward from the sea, scouring the rolling fields. In this windswept place real trees grew only along the strait where the island fronted the grim bulk of the mainland. Even as she realized that she was seeing Mona, the scene changed, and Eilan saw men of her own race clad in white, and women in robes of midnight blue, their faces grim as they piled wood into great pyres.

For a moment she did not understand. Then a shiver of light rippled along the opposite shore. She blinked, recognizing Roman armor. The people of Mona saw it too, and suddenly the pyres were blazing. The priestesses danced forward, their shadows contorting as they screamed their spells. For a time the Romans hung back and their leaders harangued them, then the first rank went splashing into the water. The strait frothed as the Legion pushed across it. They came out dripping, but their swords gleamed red in the firelight. With grim precision they pursued the Druids, and their swords dripped with a brighter crimson as they slew all those they found.

For a time then all was silent. The fading firelight gave way to the cold grey of dawn. Ravens were already busy at the bodies. As Eilan watched, they rose suddenly upward, screaming, their wings darkening the sky.

As she heard the song Eilan felt her heart pierced by sorrow, and the vision blurred as tears filled her eyes.

When she could see again, she was standing beside the pool once more. But she was no longer alone. Mirrored in the water she saw a figure, and looking up she realized that it was a man wrapped in a spotted bull's hide with a headdress framed by hawk's wings and crowned by the antlers of a great stag. Her eyes widened, for this was a costume the Druids wore only for their most sacred ceremonies.

"Lord—” she gave him the salutation due his rank, "who are you?” For a moment he had reminded her of her grandfather, but she realized now that he was younger, despite the silver in his beard, and in his eyes shone a wisdom and power she had no more than glimpsed in any mortal man.

This is what Ardanos was meant to be!
she thought then, like the great Priestess she had glimpsed sometimes shining through Lhiannon in the rituals. This was the reality.

He smiled, and it seemed to her that the light brightened around them until the pool shone. "I have been in many shapes, and had many names. I have been the Hawk of the Sun, and the White Stallion, the Golden Stag, and the Black Boar. But here and now I am the Merlin of Britannia.”

Eilan swallowed. She had heard something of this in her studies, for the Merlin was a title that had been borne by the Arch-Druid in previous years. But the soul to whom it belonged did not take flesh in every generation, and it was said that only the greatest of the Druids met him in the Otherworld.

She licked her lips. "What do you want of me?”

"Daughter of the Holy Isle, will you serve your people, and your gods?”

"I serve the Lady of Life,” answered Eilan steadily. "And I would do Her will.”

"This is an hour of omen, when many paths may meet, but only with your consent, for the way that opens before you will require that you give everything, and if you follow it you will find scant understanding or reward.” He moved around the edge of the pool.

"And what do the omens say this hour is propitious for?” Close to him, the reality of his presence was overpowering. Eilan was glad the old tales had taught her how to reply.

"It is propitious for the making of a priestess in the ancient way,” he said gently. "They have told you that a priestess must be physically a virgin, but it is not so. A priestess of the Goddess gives herself at her own time and season, and when the power has passed through her, resumes her sovereignty. She gives, but is never taken. She is the initiator who sanctifies the Sacred King, that he may bestow the blessing on his queen, and life may be renewed in the land.”