Lady of the Moon

by Mary Gillgannon

  Chapter 10

  Sirona sat down on a rock and opened her pack. She took everything out and searched the bottom, hoping to find some crumb or particle of food she’d overlooked. Finding nothing, she sighed. A short distance away, the wolf waited, lying down like a hound before the fire.

  They’d been traveling like this for four days. The wolf would set off and she would follow. When she grew tired or hungry, she would stop and the wolf would come back and wait for her. Once she’d left out food, but the wolf hadn’t approached the dried meat. She’d understood then. It was a spirit, not a real animal. Which was why she continued to follow it. She believed the gods must be speaking through the wolf and it was leading her where she was meant to go.

  But there were times when doubts overwhelmed her. She had no idea where the wolf was taking her, and she was haunted by what she’d left behind, the loss of everything she cared about. At those moments she felt like giving up. Lying down and surrendering to her fatigue and hunger. The dried meat and barley bannocks in her pack were gone and, despite the verdant green forest, there was little to eat but a few berries here and there. She hoped the wolf realized they must reach their destination soon or she would collapse from starvation.

  Sirona took a drink from her waterskin. Maybe quenching her thirst would revive her. That morning they’d entered a thick forest of oak, pine and yew, so dense and impenetrable that without the wolf, she wouldn’t have been able to travel a stone’s throw without getting hopelessly lost. She glanced at the animal, and the wolf raised its head expectantly. It was a beautiful creature. Much darker than the wolf Cruthin had killed for his man-making, so many cycles of the moon ago. This wolf had black fur tipped with silver. Its face was silvery gray, with dark eyes. They weren’t wolf’s eyes, but seemed human.

  She wondered if the wolf was Lovarn. He’d told her his name meant wolf. She had tried talking to the animal, asking it to appear to her in human form. It continued to gaze at her with those strange, compelling eyes. She decided it didn’t matter who or what the wolf was, only that the animal had been sent to guide her.

  But guide her where? She knew they were traveling north. If she encountered another tribe, what would she tell them? How could she explain how she came to be there? And why should any tribe take her in? Her hair was disheveled, her clothing dirty. She’d lost the bronze comb Rhyell had sent with her, and she had only one change of clothing, and that gown was nearly as old and soiled as the one she wore. All the jewelry from her mother was gone. Except for what was in her pack, all her possessions had been stolen by the Romans.

  Thinking of these things, she grew even more discouraged. For all she knew, she was going to die here, lost in these endless woods. Forgotten. Alone. Cursed. Tears welled up in her eyes. She was so tired. She’d been walking for days, with no clear destination ahead. Now she was out of food. What was the point of going on? Why not stay here until death came?

  She slumped over, head in her hands. Then she heard a sound. The wolf. It began to circle her, growling. Not threateningly, but as a sign of impatience. “Go away,” she whispered. “Leave me alone.”

  But the animal wouldn’t relent. It circled ever closer, finally darting in to nip at her clothing. Sirona sat up and watched the wolf stop a few paces away. “What do you want?” she asked. “Why won’t you leave me in peace?”

  The wolf again moved in a circle, whining. Obviously, it wanted her to get up and follow. She groaned, but didn’t rise.

  The animal rushed toward her, grazing her body. Even this close, it had no odor. The awareness reminded her that this was no natural creature. It was one thing to defy an animal. Another to ignore a messenger of the gods. She stood up wearily and began to follow the wolf.

  The forest was a blur of green, endless, oppressive. If she kept on like this, she would eventually collapse and die. Her body would rot away and she would become part of the earth again. Her flesh and bones would feed the animals and nourish the soil. Her spirit would return to the warmth and safety of the great mother’s womb, from there to be born again into a new life, a new body. The idea soothed her. It wasn’t such a terrible fate. Perhaps in her next life she would be more fortunate.

  A short while later the forest ended, and Sirona halted, staring. Pink campion, blue harebells and mauve heather grew in profusion around a mound like the one on the sacred isle. The wolf ran to the mound and disappeared behind it.

  Sirona followed, her despair replaced by wonder. On the other side of the mound was a small doorway, much like the one in the mound on the sacred isle, except there was no stone blocking the entrance. Seeing no sign of the wolf, she decided the animal must have gone inside. She dropped her pack on the ground, then ducked down and stuck her head inside the passageway leading into the mound. It smelled earthy and pungent, like a fox’s den. She felt a hint of fear, wondering what sort of animal might wait within. Then she decided the wolf wouldn’t have gone in if she weren’t meant to follow.

  She crawled inside, where light filtering down through an opening in the top revealed a cozy dwelling space but no sign of the wolf. Sirona was puzzled. After guiding her for days, why would it simply vanish?

  Unless this was her destination. She glanced around. There was a small hearth, with animal skins and large, flat rocks for seating arranged around it. Numerous baskets and jars were pushed back against the sloping sides of the stone wall of the chamber. She went to one of the baskets and opened it. Inside was some ground-up meal. She dipped her finger in the powdery substance and licked it. The meal tasted like hazelnuts. Another of the baskets was full of dried berries. She picked up one of the jars, removed the beeswax seal and sniffed. Then she brought the jar to her lips and drank. It contained a strong, vaguely sweet beverage. She drank some more. The drink made her dizzy, but also revived her.

  She explored further. The baskets and jars and other objects in the chamber were tidily arranged, but there was a layer of dust over everything. Someone had been here, but a long time ago. She puzzled over why the wolf had guided her to this place. Was she supposed to rest here and eat the food? What if the people who had stored it away came back and were angry she’d dared to help herself to their hoard?

  But she was too hungry and exhausted to agonize over these matters for long. She pulled the baskets and the beverage jars over to the hearth and began to eat. The nutmeal was rich and nourishing, but difficult to consume by licking her fingers. She wondered if she added water if she could make a kind of mealcake over the fire. If she had a fire. She took several deep draughts of the beverage. It made her sleepy. She decided to go out and get her pack, so she could wrap up in her cloak.

  It was getting dark, and there was no sign of the wolf. Now she was completely alone. Then Sirona saw the faint outline of the moon, gleaming through the trees at the edge of the clearing. The increasing moon, when the lighted half circle resembled a pregnant belly. She felt certain she’d been guided to this place for a reason. Although that purpose hadn’t yet been revealed, she must trust that the Goddess had a reason for bringing her here.

  Turning back to the mound, she noted that it was also shaped like a pregnant belly. She would be safe inside the earth mother’s womb.

  * * *

  Sirona woke to find the underground chamber filled with fire. She jerked upright, terrified. The flames danced before her eyes, gleaming and bright. Then they died back, and she realized she was looking into an ordinary hearth fire. She blinked in amazement, trying to understand what had happened. Then she saw someone seated on the other side of the fire. A woman, small-boned and gracefully built, with long, thick dark hair and a beautiful haughty face. She gazed at Sirona with a patient expression.

  Sirona immediately had the sense of being in the presence of someone incredibly strong and powerful. For a moment, she wondered if she were seeing a vision of the Great Goddess herself. Then, even as she had the thought, the woman changed. Her hair turned white. Her face became as thin and hollo
w as a skull. Her body grew stooped and wizened. Sirona took a deep breath. “Who are you?” she whispered. “Are you the Great Mother?”

  The woman gave a cackling laugh. “If I were, you would have been burned to nothingness. The power of the Great Mother is awesome. To come in contact with even a tiny portion of it is to risk annihilation.”

  “Then, who are you? What are you?”

  The old woman laughed once more. “I am Itzurra. I have come to claim you.”

  Claim her? The implication of her words chilled Sirona. “Why?” she asked. “What have I done?” She looked around. “I didn’t mean to eat your food... but I was so hungry. And I didn’t mean to intrude upon this place either.” She thought about mentioning the wolf guiding her there but wasn’t sure the woman would believe her.

  “It’s not what you have done, but who you are. It’s time for you to face your destiny.”

  “My destiny? What is that?” Sirona’s heart was pounding. Her whole body went rigid as the woman moved nearer.

  “You are the one who will carry the past into the future,” Itzurra said. She grasped Sirona’s arm in her claw-like hand. “The blood of the Old Ones runs in your veins. You have it from both your mother, Banon, and from your father.”

  “My father? What do you know of him?”

  “He was a warrior of one of the Brigante tribes. He’s dead now, because he couldn’t endure the legacy of his mixed blood. Many people can’t. They want to be from one world or the other, and can’t survive in the twilight space between. But do we not all live our lives in the doorway between two worlds?”

  “You mean, this world and the Other Side?”

  Itzurra smiled. Despite her great age, she had all her teeth. “Although much of what the Learned Ones teach is nonsense, some of it is true. I suspect it won’t be difficult to instruct you. You will understand some things because of your Drui training, and the rest will come easily because it’s already in here.” Itzurra touched her chest.

  “You’re going to teach me magic?” Sirona asked excitedly.

  Itzurra’s smile wavered. “I wish I had more to offer you. But much of the power has been lost.”

  “What about my visions?” Sirona asked. “Will you tell me what they mean?”

  “Your visions aren’t from our world, but the other. I can’t help you with those.”

  “What other world?”

  Itzurra’s expression grew grim. “The world of men, of warriors.” The old woman shook her head. “It’s the mixture of your blood that torments you. You can never truly belong to one realm. This conflict led to your parents’ deaths, but I think you are stronger. I think you will be able to learn to balance the two kinds of power and use them wisely.”

  Sirona nodded. This was why the wolf had led her to this place. So she would finally learn the secrets of the Old Ones. She thought of Cruthin. If she ever saw him again, she would be able to tell him she’d finally discovered what they’d sought.

  “Sit by the fire,” Itzurra said. “Let me tell you the story of the Old Ones from the beginning.” Sirona settled herself on the animal pelts. Itzurra began, “Long, long ago, the gods came down from the sky. They taught us all about the realms of thought and being. They taught us magic. For a time, our people prospered. Then we began to fight among ourselves, to use the sacred knowledge and power to hurt each other. The gods grew angry and went away. All except one god named Dyeus. He’d fallen in love with a woman named Ane. He mated with her, and they had children. Their children had not only the knowledge of the gods, but some of their blood. Their female children were especially gifted and could do great magic.

  “When Ane died, her children buried her in a great mound of earth. Dyeus came and took her with him, back to the sky. Their descendants are the Old Ones. At first, their descendants had great power and knew how to do great things. But gradually their magic dwindled. They became desperate to entice the gods back. They erected the standing stones and monuments, trying to convince them to return. When one of their number died, they buried them in mounds of earth, hoping that Dyeus would come and take the deceased back to the heavens, as he had Ane.”

  Itzurra raised her head and looked at Sirona sadly. “The fact is, the descendants of Dyeus and Ane became so obsessed with the realm of the gods, they squandered their magic. That’s how most of it was lost. But the things they built still possess a little of their power. That’s why this mound remains green and fertile even in the dead of winter. For someone like you, who possesses some of Dyeus’s blood, these places call to you. You feel the power there. But like all who possess the blood of the Old Ones, the part of you that belongs to the gods is always yearning, longing to return to the stars. Always you are in turmoil. Your flesh is drawn by the earth, which represents Ane’s blood. Your spirit, by the stars and the realm of Dyeus. And you also have the blood of the newcomers, those who call themselves the Pretani.”

  “No wonder I feel so confused, so torn in different directions,” Sirona said.

  Itzurra nodded. “It’s the blood of the Pretani that makes you afraid. While the Pretani raise their children not to fear death or pain, they are still uneasy with the realm of the Other Side.”

  “I have another fear,” Sirona said. “I fear I will end up like my mother. That I will have a horrible death and be trapped in the lonely realm of spirits who are unable to pass over to the Other Side.”

  “Your mother was nothing like you. She refused the training we tried to offer her and became caught up in the world of men. She never learned how to use the power she possessed. She was like a child who hurts itself as it unwisely struggles to have its own way.”

  “You knew my mother?”

  “Aye.”

  “What was she like? I have only the tiniest memory of her and...” Sirona grimaced. “... what I’ve seen in my visions.”

  “She was beautiful, like you. But she didn’t have your wisdom or your spirit. Her spirit was weak, and so, in her confusion, she sought out the power of the Pretani world rather than that of the Old Ones. She used her gifts to meddle in the world of men, of politics and power, and she died because of it. You won’t make the same mistake. Already you know what true power is. It’s not possessing great herds of sheep and cattle, or, in your mother’s case, jewels and fine garments. It has nothing to do with how many people defer to you or heed your will. Power comes from your connection to the earth and the sky. To all life. To the energy of everything around us. To all we can see and all that we cannot see.”

  Sirona nodded. Old Ogimos had said these same things. She felt in her heart that it was true. “I understand,” she said.

  Itzurra smiled. She reached under her crys, which was made of some sort of animal fur, brown and soft and amazingly thick, and pulled out a narrow strip of leather with a large blue-green attached. Pulling the necklace over her head, she handed it to Sirona. “Put it on.”

  “What is it?”

  “Something passed down through the women of our line. Although this is not the same one, it’s said that Ane possessed an amulet made of this special stone. It’s also said Dyeus gave it to her, and it came from the stars.”

  Carefully, reverently, Sirona looped the thong over her neck. When she touched the stone, cradling it in her fingers, it felt warm and alive.

  “Ah,” Itzurra said. “It knows you. Recognizes Ane’s blood. Perhaps it would have done the same with your mother, but she refused it. She favored gold and silver, and shiny stones that caught the light.”

  Sirona looked up. “I can’t imagine refusing such a gift.”

  “You would not. And because you know this stone and it knows you, it will protect you and aid you. As long as you wear it, you will be safe from the dangers of the world of men. You must never take it off. Or, if you do—perhaps to put on a new thong to carry it—you must still hold it close to your heart all the while.”

  Sirona nodded. “Thank you. It’s a wonderful gift.” She gazed at Itzurra. “How c
an I repay you for... all of this?”

  “Merely to see you smile is repayment enough. I have waited many, many years to find someone to whom I might pass on my Goddess stone. Now, I can die content.”

  Itzurra’s words alarmed Sirona. “Die? What do you mean? I thought you were going to teach me the magic of the Old Ones?”

  Itzurra lay back on the animal pelts. Her breath seemed to come harsh and shallow. “You already know nearly as much as I do. And the rest, the rest you must learn for yourself.”

  “By the Goddess, what’s happening?” Sirona knelt beside Itzurra. “You can’t die now. We’ve barely met! I’ve only begun to learn.”

  “It’s time.” Itzurra’s voice was barely audible. “One last thing, I ask you.”

  “What? Anything! I will do whatever you wish! Only... please don’t die...” Sirona’s words ended in a gasp of despair.

  “Lean closer,” Itzurra whispered. “Aye, like that. Please leave my body here, in this place. Perhaps...” Her voice grew fainter. “Perhaps Dyeus will come for me.”

  The fire, which had started to flicker, suddenly went out. Sirona was left in pitch black darkness. Even the smokehole in the top of the mound let in not the faintest light.

  “Oh, no,” Sirona moaned. “How can this be?” She clutched her head in her hands, wondering if it were all a dream. Then she touched the amulet. The feel of the warm stone provided some reassurance, but she still felt empty and despairing. “How could you leave me?” she whispered. She sniffed loudly, feeling the tears course down her cheeks. “But I must be strong. Itzurra said that as long as I wore the amulet, I would be safe.” The words didn’t alter her sense of loss. Sighing, she lay down next to Itzurra. The old woman’s corpse felt tiny and frail, her bones like a bird’s. Already her flesh was growing cold. Sirona moved her hand so she was touching Itzurra’s garment. She kneaded her fingers in the soft luxuriance of the fur. It seemed warm and alive, as if the essence of the creature it had come from still lingered there.

  * * *

  She was woken by sunlight filtering down through the smokehole in the top of the mound. Looking around, she was startled to realize that Itzurra was gone. As she had the night before, Sirona reached for the amulet. It still hung between her breasts. That meant Itzurra had existed, that it wasn’t all a dream. But where was the old woman now?

  Sirona glanced around and was startled to find a gold necklace lying on the fur next to her. It was made up of disks of gold etched with strange symbols. She puzzled over it, wondering what it meant. Had Dyeus come and taken Itzurra away, leaving the necklace behind? She stroked the gold lovingly. If this was all that was left of Itzurra, then it was fitting it should remain here. But for her, it was time to leave. The sense that her destiny lay elsewhere was very strong. When she touched the amulet once more, it seemed that it spoke, telling her to go.

  She thought of taking some of the food and a few jars of the tart beverage, then decided against it. Those things were meant to remain here, for the next traveler in need. After one last glance at the necklace, gleaming brilliantly in a shaft of sunlight filtering down through the opening in the top of the mound, she crawled out of the entrance. Outside, the wolf was waiting for her.

  “Hello, wolf,” she said, smiling. “Where will you lead me today?” She’d come to this place feeling overwhelmed and hopeless, but now that dark weight was gone, and her mood was expectant, almost joyful.