Divine by Blood. P.C. Cast
and rattled and shook them until they sounded like rain sloughing through autumn leaves. Rhiannon opened her eyes. The shadows beneath the giant sacred oak, the twin to the destroyed tree under which she lay, began to stir and her heart fluttered in panic. Had Pryderi returned to claim her, despite the presence of the shaman and the power of their ancient drums? Then a ball of light burst into being, chasing away the darkness. From the center of the light a figure began to form. Rhiannon’s breath caught and tears filled her eyes. The old shaman bowed his head respectfully.
“Welcome, Great Goddess,” he said.
Epona smiled at the old man. John Peace Eagle, know that for your actions tonight you have my gratitude and my blessing.
“Thank you, Goddess,” he said solemnly.
Then Epona turned her gaze to Rhiannon. With a trem-bling hand, she wiped the tears from her eyes so that she could see the Goddess more clearly. In her childhood Epona had materialized for her several times, but as she had entered her rebellious teenage years, and then become a selfish, indulged adult, the Goddess had quit visiting her, quit speaking to her, and eventually, had quit hearing her. Now Rhiannon felt her soul quicken at the sight of her goddess.
“Forgive me, Epona!” she cried.
I forgive you, Rhiannon. I forgave you before you asked it of me. I, too, have been at fault. I saw your weakness and knew your soul was being courted by darkness. My love for you blinded me to the level of your self-destruction.
Rhiannon bit back the excuses that always so readily came to her tongue. “I was wrong,” was all she said. Then she drew a deep breath, fighting against the numbness that sought to steal away her words. “Epona, I ask that you break the bonds Pryderi has on me. I have renounced him, but as you know, I am near death. His hold on my soul is strong.”
Epona studied her fallen priestess carefully before asking, Why do you ask such a thing of me, Rhiannon? Is it because you fear what will happen to your spirit after death?
“Goddess, I find now that death is near many things in my life have become clear.” She glanced down at the child she still held in her weakening arms. “Or perhaps it is the presence of my daughter that has allowed the scales to fall from my eyes.” She looked up at the Goddess. “The truth is that, yes, I am afraid to spend eternity in despair and darkness, but I would not have called upon you to save me from the fate I know I deserve.” Rhiannon choked, coughed, and took several gasping breaths before she could continue. “I called upon you because I could not bear the thought that my daughter would be claimed by the same darkness that has poisoned so much of my life. If you break the bonds Pryderi has upon my soul I do not ask that I be allowed to enter your meadows. I ask that you allow me to exist in the Otherworld, where I can keep watch on her and try to whisper good when the dark god whispers evil.”
Eternity in the Otherworld is not an easy fate. There is no rest to be found there—no meadows of light and laughter to succor your world-weary soul.
“I do not wish to rest while my daughter is in danger. I do not want her to follow my path.”
The years of your daughter’s life will be only a tiny ripple in the pond of eternity. Do you truly ask an interminable fate for something that is in essence so transient?
Rhiannon leaned her pale cheek against her daughter’s soft head. “I do, Epona.”
The Goddess smiled and, even so near death, Rhiannon was filled with a rush of indescribable joy.
Finally, my Beloved, you have conquered the selfishness in your spirit and followed your heart. The Goddess stretched her arms over her head. Pryderi, god of darkness and lies, I do not relinquish my rightful hold on this priestess! You shall not claim her soul without first vanquishing me! Light shot from the Goddess’s palms, splintering the shadows that had skittered to the edges of the clearing. With a terrible shriek, the unnatural darkness dissipated completely, leaving what Rhiannon now recognized as only the normal and comforting darkness that twilight foretold.
“My spirit feels light,” she whispered to her daughter. That is because for the first time since you were a child your spirit is free of the influence of darkness.
“I should have taken this path long ago,” Rhiannon said faintly.
Epona’s smile was, once again, filled with limitless kindness. It is not too late, my Beloved.
Rhiannon closed her eyes against a wash of emotions that drained her of the last of her waning strength. “Epona, I know this isn’t Partholon, and I am no longer your Chosen One, but would you greet my daughter?” Her voice was almost inaudible.
Yes, Beloved. For the sake of my love for you, I greet Morrigan, granddaughter of The MacCallan, and I bestow upon her my blessing.
Rhiannon opened her eyes at the sound of the whir of wings. Epona had disappeared, but the sacred grove had been filled with thousands upon thousands of fireflies that dipped and dived and soared all around her and the infant who rested in her arms. In the fading light they illuminated the air around them as if the stars had temporarily taken leave of the night sky just to dance about the glade in celebration of the birth of her child.
“The Goddess heard your plea,” the old man said reverently. “She did not forget you. She will not forget your child.”
Rhiannon glanced at him, and had to blink hard to focus on his face. “Shaman, you must take me home.”
His eyes met hers. “I do not have the power to return you to the Otherworld, Rhiannon.”
“I know that,” she said weakly. “Take me back to the only home I have known in this world—to Richard Parker, who is the mirror image of my father, The MacCallan.” Rhiannon grimaced and pushed back the memory of Shannon Parker’s voice telling her that in Partholon her father was dead. “Take my body there and present Morrigan to him as his granddaughter. Tell him…” She hesitated, trying to speak through the numbness that was quickly enclosing her. “Tell him…that I believe in his love and know he will do the right thing.”
The shaman nodded solemnly. “How do I find Richard Parker?”
Rhiannon managed to gasp simple directions to Richard Parker’s small ranch outside Broken Arrow. Thankfully, the old man questioned her little and seemed to understand the words she whispered between gasps.
“I will do this for you, Rhiannon. I will also offer prayers for your spirit in the Otherworld. May you watch over your child and keep her safe.”
“My child…Morrigan MacCallan…blessed by Epona…” Rhiannon whispered. She found that she could not fight against the numbness any longer. Still holding her daughter to her breast, she allowed her head to fall back so that it rested on a gnarled root. And while firefly lights played all around them to the tune of ancient drums, Rhiannon, Priestess of Epona, died.
3
Partholon
“Okay, so here’s the absolute friggin truth. If it was fun, they wouldn’t call it labor.” I grimaced and tried to find a more comfortable position on the huge down-filled mattress I’d dubbed the marshmallow, but I was so damn tired and my body was sore in so many intimate places that I gave up and settled for sipping more of the mulled wine a helpful nymphet offered me. “They’d call it something like party,” I continued. “Women would say, ‘Oh, boy! I’m going into party now and having a baby. Yippie!’ Nope. It’s definitely not called party.”
Alanna and her husband, Carolan (who had just delivered my daughter), glanced over their shoulders at me. Both of them laughed, as did several of the nymphlike handmaidens who were clustered around the room, tidying, fussing, basically doing the handmaiden stuff they loved to do (and, quite frankly, I adored their abject adoration).
“I don’t know what you’re laughing at. In a couple months you’re going to know