Tales of Downfall and Rebirth

by S. M. Stirling

  “‘England’s green and pleasant land,’ indeed,” she said, with pleasure. “We won’t run out this winter, not even with more mouths to feed.”

  “I have a mind to use it for more than bread and soup,” Ben said. He swept up a punnet that sat on the ground at the corner of the field and presented it to her. “My wedding gift to you at the solstice next week, my lady dear.”

  A wave of heady perfume rose from the mass of tight little white blossoms nestled within it.

  “Hops?” she asked, hardly daring to believe it.

  “Aye,” he said, thickening his natural lilt to a countryman’s drawl, and matching her delighted grin with his own. “We’ll have beer to drink to the longest day and our future together.”

  “So mote it be,” Rebecca said.

  Brewing was a messy and smelly job that was impossible to conceal. Ben and Rebecca had to resort to all the tools in their power to prevent anyone tapping the tanks in the microbrewery before the beer was ready. At the crack of dawn on the solstice, almost before the birds were up and singing, all twenty-three surviving souls put on the best clothes they had left. Julie wore a new dress she had made herself entirely out of scavenged T-shirts. The entire coven assembled in the Alice Lisle’s microbrewery and waited avidly around the enormous copper tank. With solemn ceremony, Ben opened the cock and let the golden beer pour into a waiting keg. Rebecca thrust a huge tankard under the stream, poured a little on the stone floor for the gods and took a sip, and sighed with pleasure. The heady, yeasty scent tickled her nose, and the flavor made her tongue dance. It was good! Though she longed to drain the whole mug, she passed it to Ben. The first taste was only ceremonial. He held the beaker high.

  “To a new day, my friends! Let the festivities begin.”

  The others cheered. He drank and handed the tankard to Mary Valentine with a bow and a flourish.

  Beer, Rebecca thought in delight, watching him. Beer, celebration, and love. The latter thought made her heart twist with regret. She glanced at her children, each taking their sips from the big pewter mug and making faces at the strong flavor. Ah, Noel, you’d be so proud of them. But, as always, Ben was watching her, too. He reached out to touch her chin with his calloused fingertips.

  “Now, now, my dear,” he said. “This is the new normal. It’ll be good. You’ll see. We can live with this.”

  The day started out with a surprise for the adults. The children had been very secretive, whispering to one another in the shadowed corner of the sleeping room. Nora came around with wreaths of climbing roses and ivy for everyone’s head. Rebecca shook down her hair under the fragrant circlet, feeling quite like a girl again. Ben wrapped his right arm around her, squeezing her tight. Then, to the strains of Tim’s acoustic guitar, the children sang the ancient lay, “Sumer is A-Cumen In,” with acrobatic dancing that would have done credit to Cirque du Soleil. The adults battered their palms with applause. The children bowed, gratified, but were even more delighted when Rebecca rewarded them with a rare treat of barley sugar candy.

  Nearly everyone had a turn at the impromptu cabaret. Tim knew every word of every skit ever performed by Monty Python, and chanted Eric Idle’s scurrilous “Philosopher’s Song,” to the cheers and whoops of his audience. Frank Valentine had been practicing in secret with a whip, and took a mug off his very trusting wife’s head without hitting her.

  A feast was laid out upon the pitted, elderly wooden tables. Sweet young peas still in the shell went down like candy as an appetizer. Roasted haunch of venison surrounded by tasty browned parsnips and carrots put everyone in a good mood. Rebecca had permitted a drain on the larder that she would never allow at other times, but this was a doubly joyous occasion. Ben went from person to person filling their mugs from a pitcher refreshed often from the first of the wooden kegs.

  “Drink up, friends! There’s five barrels to get through!” he announced. The others cheered.

  “Two for today only,” Rebecca corrected him. “Ethanol poisoning is no joke, and you have all lost your tolerance. Don’t be silly. Today’s an important festival.”

  “Enjoy yourself, love,” Ben said, stooping to kiss the serious look off her face. “It’s our wedding day. Remember the Goddess’ charge. Reverence and mirth, both. Don’t be a doctor for once. Be the priestess and my bride.”

  She put in the effort to let go of her most serious self, and found it was easier than she had thought. As Tim played tune after tune, she danced in a circle with her children and Ben.

  “Are you happy to let him be your step-papa?” she had asked them again and again after Ben had proposed. “You know he will never replace your father, but Ben loves you.”

  “We’re fine, Mum,” David had assured her. Julie and James added their assent. “He’s pretty great, you know.”

  “Yes,” Rebecca remembered saying, and meaning it from the depths of her heart. “He is.”

  So it was no trouble, in the midst of the evening’s rite after sunset, following the prayers for the midsummer, to stand before the candle- and flower-laden altar in the greenwood, hands bound together with a silk scarf, to repeat the words of the ancient vow. Fragrant resin gathered from fir trees that had come to substitute for the frankincense they could no longer obtain wafted its sacred scent upon the air. They took the aspects of God and Goddess into themselves, but also remained priest and priestess, man and woman.

  “I, Rebecca, plight thee, Ben, my troth . . .” He repeated the vow, with their names reversed. No one needed to marry them to each other. They were priest and priestess, and the gods were eminently present, in tree, root and leaf, in bird and beast, in water and sky, and in the hearts of their loved ones around them. Her heart welling with joy, Rebecca kissed him. Ben wrapped her in his arms and picked her right up off the ground, squeezing her so tightly her ribs squeaked. She couldn’t wait until the evening was over, so they could sneak away and consummate their marriage. By the light shining in his eyes, neither could he. Everyone cheered. Tim whistled and stamped.

  A wind blew up suddenly, bringing with it a foul odor. The flames of the point candles danced, and two of them went out.

  “Pretty, very pretty,” said a man’s voice. “What’s this, a Renaissance fair?”

  Rebecca spun. Everyone reached for their weapons, which were never far away. James slipped an arrow onto his bow.

  Three men in canvas trousers and heavy leather jackets stumped toward them, hunting bows stretched in their hands with razor-pointed arrows nocked. Rebecca’s heart pounded in her chest. They didn’t look like the crazed cannibals that had stalked them before. They certainly weren’t king’s men. They were too filthy, and none of them had a badge on his sleeve. The weapons in their belts looked well used and well handled.

  “Smelled your fires and thought we’d join you,” said the leader, a stocky man of middle height. His brown hair was going gray at the temples, and he was missing two teeth in the front.

  Rebecca glanced at Ben. Normally, two or more of the scouts would have been on watch outside the grove, probably up one of the enormous trees. It had been days since anyone had tried to attack their home, so he had taken a chance on allowing everyone to be in the circle for the festival.

  More fool us, Rebecca thought. She trembled, but to her surprise, she stretched out her hand to the men.

  “Welcome,” she said. “We’re celebrating the summer solstice.”

  “Witches?” the man at the leader’s left shoulder asked.

  “Nature worshippers,” Rebecca said.

  “We never put spells on people who don’t deserve it,” Mary Valentine said, her little dried walnut of a face set. All three arrows came around to point at her.

  “Shh, Mum!” Frank Valentine hissed.

  Ben glanced at Rebecca. She knew what he was thinking. Where had they come from, and how many of them were there? Their group was so small. While they might ov
ermatch three men, they’d almost certainly lose one or more of their number, and what if there was an army of brutes in the shadows?

  “I’m Ben and this is my wife, Rebecca,” Ben said. “We’re about to have our supper. Join us.”

  “We’ll always take food,” the first man said, trying not to look too eager. “Call me Boss Green. This is Jax and Tiger. Toss over all your weapons. Now! Not taking a knife in the ribs from someone who wants to be a hero.”

  Ben nodded carefully, and signaled to the others to comply. Rebecca tried to sum up the men. They were lean, as who wasn’t these days, but fit as fighting dogs. Their gums and skin looked horrible, hinting that their diet was inadequate. They certainly hadn’t been as well fed as Beech Grove. An idea began to form in her mind.

  “We have food,” she said. “And beer.”

  “Beer?” Even Boss Green’s muddy eyes lit up at the word. He let the bowstring relax. “Hell’s bells, where the fook did you find beer three years after the end of the world?”

  “We made it,” Ben said, giving his new wife a strange look. “Just tapped today. Come and try it.”

  Rebecca couldn’t enjoy a mouthful of the succulent roast boar she ate. She was too worried about her children, who sat on their benches at the far end of the long table, pretending they weren’t scared and wary. The strangers tore at their meat like the starving wolves that they were, and guzzled down beer as if to put out fires in their bellies. The pitch-soaked torches that lit the feast made the visitors look like demons.

  In spite of their greed, the strangers were still cautious. They kept their feet on top of the pile of swords and bows they had taken. They had even collected the ritual athames.

  “Why do you want to know where we live?” Boss Green demanded, angrily, as Ben asked for the seventh or eighth time. He pounded a fist on the tabletop, making the chewed bones around his platter jump.

  “Well, there are only a few of us left practically in the world,” Ben said, leaning back to show he was at ease. He toyed with his single glass of beer. “Stands to reason we might all join up. Against them cannibals out there and all.”

  “Don’t want to join up with no witches,” Tiger said, grouchily. The beer was beginning to affect him, but not quickly enough for Rebecca’s taste. “T’others won’t like it, neither.”

  “Sha!” Boss Green snapped. Tiger stopped talking and drained his glass. He waved to Nora to come and refill it. She did, although she had to keep dodging the hand he tried to put on her backside.

  Others? Rebecca exchanged glances with Ben. Not close by, though, or he might have summoned them when he realized there were only twenty-three in Beech Grove.

  “Well, perhaps you can take a vote on it,” Ben said. “If there are a lot of you, we might move close to where you are instead of the other way around.”

  “What do you live in?” Boss Green asked. His voice was starting to slur, but he still sounded too alert.

  “Huts,” Rebecca said at once. “Lean-tos, mostly. We built them from garden fences. They’re very cozy.”

  “Not a chance in hell. Got better digs.” Boss Green realized that he was starting to speak too freely. He pulled himself to his feet. Curses! Rebecca thought. “Got to go. Men!” His bark brought Tiger and Jax upright. “Take the weapons. They ain’t so good as ours, but better we have ’em then they.”

  “Thank you for joining us,” Rebecca said. “Merry meet and merry part.”

  Boss Green spun to level a glare full of hate at her.

  “You’ll stop that pagan shite when we’re done with you, madam,” he said. “Maybe you’ll be one of my wives instead of this mealy-mouthed bastard.” He threw a scornful gesture in Ben’s direction. Tim growled, and Boss Green pointed a dangerous finger in his direction. “Be back soon. Count on it.”

  Rebecca’s belly roiled with seething anger and fear. If she had a knife, she might actually throw it into this monster’s eye. She never wanted them to come back. If they made it out of the woods, a horde of barbarians would come and destroy the place that was just beginning to feel like home. They had nowhere else to go!

  The idea that had been dancing in her mind came roaring to the fore, demanding to be heard. It was their only chance. The only thing she could think of. But she hesitated. What else could she do?

  “Wait,” she said, standing up. She held out both hands to them. “It’s the summer solstice and our wedding day. Let us give you a gift.”

  Boss Green echoed it uneasily.

  “A gift?”

  “You liked our beer,” she said. She forced a trembling smile to her lips. “I have something special that I was saving for our full moon celebration later on, but I’d rather use it to seal our new friendship. Moonshine, the Americans call it. Grain alcohol.”

  “Moonshine?” Boss Green asked, his expression incredulous.

  “It’s absolutely delicious, but I couldn’t let the children have it. It’s too strong. Tim, won’t you go and get it for me?”

  Tim’s small eyes widened, but he caught her meaning immediately.

  “Do we have to give it to ’em, mum?” he asked, reluctantly. Thank all gods, the lad was a born Olivier.

  “Yes, we do,” Rebecca said. “Go.”

  The young man dashed off into the darkness, too swiftly for either Tiger or Jax to follow. He returned shortly with the enormous glass jug clasped in his arms.

  Jax threw down the armloads of bows and swords. He seized the bottle from Tim.

  “Try it,” Boss Green said.

  His henchman uncorked the container and splashed some of the contents into a cup. He took a small mouthful, and grinned widely.

  “It’s good, boss. Real good.”

  “Wanna get us drunk?” Boss Green snapped. Rebecca cringed, but she held herself erect. “Think we’re stupid? Not stupid. Take it home, boys. We’re going. Don’t follow us unless you want an arrow in the guts. Be back again soon!”

  He and Tiger drew their bows. Jax hurried out into the darkness. The other two backed out of the circle of firelight. Ben counted ten, then signaled to Julie and David. The scouts retrieved their own bows and glided silently after them.

  The threshing footsteps receded. Rebecca found herself trembling with reaction. Ben sat down beside her and put his arm around her. She leaned against him, too frightened to cry.

  “We’ve got to move!” Frank Valentine burst out. “Once they get over their drunk, they’ll be on us in force! They’ll take everything we’ve worked for. We’re trapped. God help us!”

  “They’re not coming back,” Rebecca said.

  “What do you mean? We just fed them the best food we have all year, let them drown themselves in our beer, and now you make them a gift of white lightning? ’Course they’ll be back.”

  “They won’t, Granddad,” Tim said. He knelt at Rebecca’s feet. “You think we’re brave, missus. You’re the bravest of us all.”

  “Brave? She just let them take a year’s worth of spirits!”

  “She told them a little lie,” Ben said, holding her close. “’Twasn’t moonshine. It was the rubbing alcohol from the surgery. Smells just the same. How long do they have?”

  “Not long once they drink it,” Rebecca said. “Four ounces will kill a man. That container holds three gallons. As David might say, do the math. Goddess forgive me.”

  Ben smiled fiercely.

  “Well done, my love. I’ll recover our weapons and probably theirs as well in the morning. They won’t need them any longer.”

  “How did you think to do that?” Ben said. “You’ve never wanted to be on the sharp end of the dagger.”

  She nestled close to him, staring up at the full moon almost exactly overhead, and listened to the owls calling to one another in the treetops.

  “I never thought I could kill, until someone threatened the people I love,�
� she said. He nodded understanding. “It’s as you said before, Ben. We’re trying to find our feet in a world that’s different from anything we knew before. This is the new reality. I’m the only one who hadn’t changed, and now I have.”

  “Ah, no, you haven’t,” Ben said gently. “The Goddess has many aspects. You just never wore this face before.”

  “How does it look on me?” Rebecca asked.

  He studied her in the dying torchlight, then kissed her on the forehead.

  “Surprisingly normal.”

  “Then it will be all right,” Rebecca said. “I hope.”

  A Missed Connection

  by Emily Mah

  Emily Mah

  Emily Mah Tippetts writes science fiction and fantasy as Emily Mah and romance as E. M. Tippetts. A former attorney, she now runs a cover design and book formatting company for independent authors and publishers. She lives in New Mexico with her family. In the Change universe, she is the Premier of Western Canada, a place she’s never really seen but would like to someday.

  The doorbell rang at seven a.m. Marc stumbled out of bed, put on his bathrobe, and went to answer it, grateful that his roommate didn’t seem to have awoken.

  He assumed he’d see his ex, Chrissie, on his doorstep, but instead found himself face-to-face with Chrissie’s older brother, Kevin; her younger sister, Rory; and Marc’s own sister, Millie. Everyone from his tiny hometown of Bend, Idaho, who lived within forty minutes of the University of Utah campus.

  “We need to talk,” said his sister. The three of them pushed past him into the front room and Marc was powerless to stop them. They were all typically broad shouldered and muscular, good Bend farming stock. Marc had always been the scrawny, nerdy one.

  “Mom says you’ve dumped Chrissie,” said Millie.