by Rex Sumner
One of the girls tried to cheer her up. “Aren’t we lucky, Soo Zann, to be here? We are Acolytes, Acolytes to the Gods! I never dreamed I could be so lucky. We shall spend every day with the Gods, or helping ordinary people worship. Imagine, seeing the Tuatha de Danann at first hand, talking with them, doing their bidding for the good of all.”
“Fuck the bloody twats,” said Susan, unimpressed. “I don’t want to be a bloody acolyte. We’re just going to be their slaves, doing whatever they want so they can sit on their fat asses and laze about drinking mead.”
“They are the Tuatha de Danann, it is not respectful to shorten their name.”
“Well, I think they are all twats and it is a good name for them.”
“Now, now, don’t speak that way. You know how special they are, and we are here to serve, it is our duty.” The girls weren’t really listening to Susan.
“You are so grumpy today, darling, I’m worried about you. What is the matter?” Fionuir showed a fraction more understanding.
“If I’m bloody barren, why do I still have such awful monthly pains?” She snarled at them, smacking with ineffectual swings at their hands. “I’m not going to their stupid lessons. I want to go home. I haven’t got a home. I want to die!” She wailed as she let them drag her to the healer, who shooed them away.
“Your body is changing, girl,” said the old woman, peering at her through rheumy old eyes from her dark brown face. “Happens to us all, but for you the gods have chosen a special fate. Your body is becoming that of a goddess, no longer will they call you Aine, for rather you are becoming the very embodiment of Danu. Here, drink this tea, it will help.”
She left Susan to sulk in her misery by the fire, wondering what it meant to be the embodiment of Danu. She feared she didn’t want to know.
*
A despondent Susan came into the clearing to find all the acolytes with their tunics up and inspecting their private parts. Susan groaned, she so was not doing this today. Every wretched fold claimed its own name and the instructor expected them to be able to move it independently. She backed away, intending to escape but the instructor, relatively young for these Tuatha de Danann, spotted her and waved a hairy arm at her.
“Susan, I have good news for you. A great honour, you are selected to partake in the dreaming ceremony tonight with the Umpir herself, the Royal Queen-Priestess Danu. You are excused the lessons and must go to the bathing house for preparation.”
Well, that was better than a lesson, and preparation in the bathing house sounded rather fun. Nevertheless, experience showed trusting the Tuatha de Danann led to disappointment.
“What is the Umpir?” Susan tried to keep her suspicion out of her voice.
“She is the Overlord, the High Priestess, the Goddess Danu.”
A small young Tuatha de Danann awaited her at the bathing rooms where she first plugged Susan’s menstruation with a waxed cloth before allowing her to luxuriate in a hot bath steeped in herbs and flowers. A long massage followed, fingers working deep into her muscles. Dressed in a pure white robe, another dark-skinned girl teased her short hair into a shape reminiscent of a helmet. The girl pursed her lips at the results, unhappy with the shortness of the hair. They fed her with lamb’s liver lightly poached in ewe’s milk, not allowing her to touch the food but placing it in her mouth, before escorting her to a Sidhe, one of several in the town. This one stood stark against the evening sky, made of dressed granite blocks, built in a pyramid. The Sheelagh na Gig above the entrance caught Susan’s eye. No rough figurine this, but an intricate carving of a young girl with long hair, in exquisite, perfect detail, beautiful and dramatic, but still reaching under her legs to open her vulva wide.
“This is the Rath,” said her guide, leading her inside by the hand where a tall, regal girl awaited her. Her guide left, and the girl smiled at Susan, who gaped at her and her dress. Tall, slim and red-headed, with a flawless white skin and a high forehead, this was no Tuatha da Danann. She wore trousers with scales sewn into them, so they looked like a large fish and she realised they were armour. Her bodice consisted of a leather harness, beautiful designs worked into the leather and a glowing golden jewel hung between her eyes from a thong. She clasped a short, savage spear in her right hand, while the left beckoned Susan to follow her.
A short passageway, lit by a single burning brand, opened into a large room. In the centre, a circle shone in the light of candles around the side of the room. Three figures sat cross-legged inside the circle, and Susan returned their gaze with interest. Again another race, like her guide, tall beautiful women. In the centre sat a lady, long red hair failing down her back with golden serpents worked into bracelets on her arms and legs. An intricate woven gold necklace hung between prominent breasts, sagging a trifle, over a kirtle of woven gold. A band crossed her brow with a jewel the size of a pigeon’s egg glowing from the centre. The figures on either side wore less jewels and gold. Hard put to take her eyes from the majesty of the central figure, Susan realised that the woman on the right was old, her breasts hanging free and down but her hair still bright and vibrant in the candlelight. On the left sat a girl, her slim waist and small breasts proclaiming her youth.
The sound of a zither played through the room, a young man sitting in the shadows while beside him another raised a low voice in a language she did not recognise. The hand maiden led Susan to a stone table, on which waited a stone goblet. Susan drank deep as instructed, before her guide gestured for her to lie down. She did so, her limbs feeling heavy and her eyelids drooping.
The hard stone dug into her back and she tried to shift into a more comfortable position only for her body to fail to respond. Her hand maiden left, the replacement another of these beautiful people, long red hair falling past white shoulders down a white robe, embroidered with symbols. She ran her hands over Susan as the song became a hypnotic chant, into which her attendant joined.
A curved red knife appeared in her hand, the candle light winking off the blade causing Susan’s heart to miss a beat. Her body might not move, but her mind still worked, taking in the room again, now seeing bones and corpses at the rear in the deep shadow and the awful realisation she lay on an altar, not a table, swept over her.
Her scream echoed through her skull while her lips moved not at all, and her eyes swept to the doorway, wondering who would come to save her from sacrifice at the last moment. King Richard? The Pathfinders? How could she have been so stupid to leave them? Oh, what had she done? Why did these awful things always happen to her?
Her attendant’s body moved now to the music, swaying in the candle light, the knife moving in intricate patterns in front of her face, now dropping to touch her chest, now rising high. She moved round behind Susan, out of sight though the knife kept appearing in front of her terrified eyes, still moving with the music. She felt a touch of cold against her neck before agony blossomed as the music rose to a crescendo and she felt her life’s blood pulsing out of her veins, trickling down her neck.
Numbness crept over her, the light fading as she searched for the light circle, the gate to the next world. Her spirit tugged at her bonds, seeking release, ready to move on, when a firm hand on her neck brought her back, fingers pinching at the wound. A momentary sear of pain followed by blessed release and she could no longer feel the blood pulse out of her.
Her attendant came into view, chanting, holding a bowl up in front of her as she made her way to the opposite end of the altar. Reverently placing the bowl between Susan’s legs, she whisked up her pure white robe and insistent fingers probed into her, finding and releasing the wax plug. Susan felt the contents of her womb trickle out, a spurt at first before a steady flow, mortification added to the tumult of emotions racing through her.
After an age in which Susan died several times, she felt the prying fingers return, first to push her stomach and pulse out the last remnants, then to replace her plug. Hands smoothed h
er robe down and the music dropped to a low, steady beat.
A firm grip on her legs swung her body round and pulled her to her feet where she stood, somehow upright, and followed the tugging to the circle. The three women sat with eyes closed, lips moving in soundless chants. Susan collapsed in front of them, closing the circle. Something pushed against her back, supporting her, and the attendant swayed into the centre, holding the bowl full of blood high as the song started again. She swayed and turned before settling down in front of the Umpir, the bowl held forward in supplication, lowering at a slow and gentle pace till it just rested on her hands.
Danu raised the bowl to her lips, and her throat worked. The eyes shot open, the pupils contracted to a pinprick, unseeing in the gloom. The attendant repeated the process, first with the crone, then the maid before turning to Susan. Just a gulp remained, warm and clotting as it flowed into Susan’s mouth like fresh honey. She couldn’t control her throat and she swallowed.
Her vision blurred and fled, darkness coming around her, but she was not alone. A bright flame pierced the darkness, revealing Danu, the light pouring from her body, her aura pulsing like a living thing. She floated in the air, one hand outstretched to Susan who rose and took it, finding herself floating in the room, a light blue cord running down to a white robe on the floor containing flesh. Danu soared and she followed, sensing the crone and the maid beside her.
They flew for an age, circling mountains and skimming over trees, before settling beside a waterfall from which a fine black dragon emerged, fire flickering from his maw. The dragon saluted Danu, who now wielded a shining sword which she thrust into Susan’s hand.
The dragon snarled at Susan, bathing her in flames which slid round her, and she faced him, unflinching. He scuttled forward, opening his mouth wide to engulf her and her body followed the lessons learnt eons ago in the Pathfinders’ training grounds, lunging forward with her foot stamping. The golden blade disappeared into the roof of his mouth, her strike sure and smooth as it penetrated to the brain and the monstrous lizard arched his back, thrashed twice before dissolving into smoke, eddying away.
“Fiotr?” Susan whispered after the last wisps..
“No, child,” said a golden voice in her ear, for Danu had gone. “You slew your fears and doubts. Now, return.”
Susan looked around her as the waterfall slowed to a dribble, to see her blue cord entwined round her ankle. Without conscious thought, she grasped the cord and pulled, flying through the night while the landscape turned to a blur. She crashed back into the room and into her body and all went black.
*
A wet world greeted her eyes, grey and dank from the window, yet her spirit soared and sang as she jumped out of bed, realising she slept in a different room. She sang as she splashed her casually naked body with water from the jug by the bowl, selecting a beautiful light blue gown from the rack in the corner. She admired her prominent breasts, the way the gown enhanced and revealed them. She threw open the door and bounced into the corridor, following the scent of fresh bread to an airy room where a red haired girl, tall and willowy, rose from the table, indicating she should sit beside her. She thought she recognised one of the attendant assistants from the previous night.
“Good morning,” the girl said in Elvish, “my aren’t we looking happy this morning.”
“Oh, I feel wonderful,” said Susan. “Can I have some bread? Who, and what are you? I have not seen you people before.”
The girl smiled. “We are the Siddhi, the Scythians, or the Tuatha de Danann as the Elves call us.”
“But I thought the instructors, Arthur and Oona, they said they were Tuatha de Danann and you are so different.”
“The Brownies?” The girl sniffed in disdain. “They are the premen, who do our bidding. They fetch people for us, till the fields and provide the food. Good workers, but they wish to better themselves and be like us.”
Memories from the previous night drifted into Susan. She smiled at the flying, the slaying of the Dragon of Doubt, before the act of swallowing bread brought back a different memory. She gagged. The girl smiled.
“Finish your bread. I will not explain; it is not my place. The Goddess awaits.”
“Goddess? The Umpir? She drank my blood! Like a vampire, wait, what?”
“Come,” said the girl, rising and would say no more as she hurried Susan along a corridor. They scaled some stairs to reach a small, circular room at the top of a turret, where the maid from the previous night sat cross-legged on a pillow, her palms resting on her knees and eyes closed.
Susan took the proffered cushion in front of her, accepting a mug of something hot from the attendant who left without a sound. As the door closed, the girl’s eyes opened, and Susan could see the eyes roll down to focus on her, blinking a couple of times.
“Soozann,” said the maid, her attention focusing. “Welcome to our palace, the home of the Goddess Danu, the Umpir. You are the first of your race to join us, and we speak not your language. Elvish will suffice.”
Susan smiled in pleasure as the maid poured herself a chalice of water from a golden ewer. “Thank you, Elvish is fine, I speak it quite well. I am still in shock at finding you here, beautiful, red haired people where before I had thought the, ah, Brownies were the Tuatha da Danaan. May I ask your name?”
The maid paused, studying Susan intently, this confidence and poise unexpected. She was used to the elves being subservient and scared of the Goddesses. “I am Diana. We are Royal Scythians, the Tuatha d’Anu, the Children of Danu. We are seekers after truth, exploring the mind and the mysteries, adepts of that which went before. We help people understand and grow in wisdom.” She sipped her drink, green translucent eyes considering Susan.
“Tuatha d’Anu? I thought it was Tuatha da Danaan?” Susan asked.
“I speak of my family only, the Royal Scythians. We are the living embodiment of the Feminine Divine, the teachings passed from mother to daughter. We show people how to touch the infinite. Our people came from a sea far to the east, after a war between a red-haired, bronze-skinned race of horsemen who came from the rising sun and the new yellow-haired, white-skinned people who came up from the south, the first of their kind. Our people, the Scythians, the Tuatha da Danann, arose from the ashes.”
“Yellow haired? Like me?” Susan’s eyes widened.
“Yes, I suppose so,” said Diana, considering her. “In truth, I have no idea. This is what we learn, an oral tradition, part of our history, the very beginning. Just a few words.”
“So, you are talking about a very long time ago,” said Susan, thinking maybe as long as five hundred years, an incredible amount of time.
“I can’t tell exactly, as the older the stories, the longer ago it happened. But at least five thousand years ago, maybe as many as twenty. Nobody really cares, to be honest. I expect it took a little while, it didn’t just happen. Anyway, we were beside the sea for a long time, thousands of years, studying the lore and the mystery of this world and the other worlds behind the veil, before we were driven from our homes by a wild race of warriors, multitudes of them, the Aryans. We are few now, and no longer exist in the outer world, residing here in secrecy. The people of the world remember us not, instead turning us into myth, legend and gods.” The maid smiled, a secret laugh.
“Wait,” said Susan, still having difficulty with the scope of the story. “You mean that you escaped, and came here?”
“My ancestors did, and others went elsewhere. Many people were happy to take us in, for they revered our teaching and consider us gods. The Brownies welcomed us at first, before our cousins, the Milesians, came and drove us out. We hid here, led by Manannan mac Lir, whose knack with water enabled him to hide us, with the aid of Fiotr, the Black Dragon.”
“What happened to the Milesians? I’ve never heard of them.”
“They slaughtered the Brownies, who came to us for shelter, befo
re they settled and became the Elves over the millenia. Now they remember us as gods, not people, and worship us.” Diana laughed, a pretty silvery sound. “They seek our counsel and we take their promising youth to train and enable them to become seers, priestesses and healers, for the betterment of their people. In return they provide us with gifts and offerings for we love not to labour in the fields. Our Brownies do this work, although we must chide them for they are not human, but pre-men, the Mother’s first attempt at creating a wondrous creature, from which she learnt enough to create ourselves. Elves and humans rose later, perhaps by mistake, and sought to destroy us for they feared us, we who taught and raised them.”
She drank again, and meditated for a while, before continuing while Susan sat entranced.
“Our numbers are few, and remain few for our blood is precious and not to be contaminated. Beneath us are our artists, artisans, poets, singers and warriors. You will meet them. You know of us, but think we are legend, yet we persist, here in the Other World. My name,Diana, is not forgotten in your world, Harrhein?”
Susan’s eyes widened and the maid smiled.
“Sh, sh, should you not have a bow?” Susan cursed herself for stammering, but it wasn’t every day you talked to a Goddess.
“Good, I am pleased you recognise me. I don’t carry a bow, I’m not very good with one. The legend persists because my ancestor gave the Milesians the bow. We brought the skill with us from the Far East.”
“Your ancestor? It was not you?”
“Oh, we are not immortal. We just like people to think we are, so our names are titles, really. When my grandmother dies, my mother will become Dianne and I shall become Danu. We haven’t decided who will be the next Diana. Several of my sisters are training, and I will have a daughter soon. Danu will know when she becomes Dianne, for then she will be able to recognise the spirit in the child.”
