Robert Adams - The Death of a Legend

“As for your own death, no matter how tight the weavings, the deeds or misdeeds of mortals always can change, or rather realign, certain threads, slightly altering the final pattern. You, yourself, if you heed My advice and My portents, can do much to prolong your life, child. So, too, can the man Bill of Morguhn. Also, there are two other men, whom you have yet to meet… and another who is not really a man, at least, not wholly such.

“But you and your Moon Maidens must give over the ways of the Hold, to a large degree. I know that it will be very hard for you all—especially so for sworn lovers like you and your dear Meeree—but you all must adopt many of the ways of the outer world, the world of men, if any of you are to survive in your present husks.

“Times of great danger lie ahead for all those who camp about the place where your body now lies, Rahksahnah, and not all of them will live through those times. The Moon Maidens who do survive will be those who have courage to surrender the ways of the dead past for present life and a chance for future happiness.

“Although you all must remain warriors for some while yet, you must all give over the other ways of the Hold, are you to live on to serve Me. I can feel that you know My meaning, my child. In the beginning, the change will be very difficult for most of you, for the men who now share the camp and will soon share the deadly danger with you are none of them at all akin to the meek and biddable men who were your sires and brothers. You and your sisters must learn to treat these men as equals. Each of you must pair with a man who appeals to her, take him as war companion and

lover, share all things with him, both the good and the ill. Yes, it will seem strange and unnatural, at first, but those who persevere will soon find each succeeding day brighter and more fulfilling. On this, you have My word and My promise, dear Rahksahnah.

“But now. My sweet and ever-faithful one, it is time that your return to your flesh, that you may repeat My words to the Moon Maidens and prepare them for the new, changed life they must all so soon begin to live are they to survive the near-future dangers.”

And with no sense of transition, the cool comfort was gone, the silver radiance was become the utter darkness which precedes the dawn, the jewel-flowered trees above her head were metamorphosed into the frost-crusted evergreen boughs thatching the roof-wall of her lean-to.

As she slowly turned her head to stare at the gray ashes and few, dim coals which were all that remained of last night’s fire, the warm, sweetly moist breath of Meeree wafted over the fine hairs on her nape… and then she could have wept yet again when she thought of what she and her sisters must so soon give up.

But then she thought of Dook Bill, thought of the height and breadth and immense strength of him, thought of the savage ferocity with which he had shaken the man who would have offered her insult. She thought of that invisible but unmistakable aura of leadership which was so naturally his and which had brought almost everyone—Moon Maidens and diverse races of men alike—to accept him instantly as war chief of their heterogeneous band.

She thought, too, of the consideration he had shown her and her poor, homeless sisters in so very many ways, of his courtly courtesy to her, personally, on the night just past. All the Ahrmehnee warriors she had ever seen or dealt with had been obviously resentful and contemptuous of her and every other Moon Maiden, and brutally callous toward their own poor women; but this Dook Bili, for all his strength and vigor and fierce starkness in battle, had dealt with her and all her sisters as respected equals and had proved solicitous, gentle and caring toward her in her illness of shock and grief—she thought that not even another Moon Maiden could have treated her more tenderly than had this massive man. Lastly, she allowed herself to recall that tingling warmth which had coursed through every fiber of her body when he had taken her arm to guide her stumbling steps around the council fire, last night; she recalled too that the touch of no other mortal—not even dear Meeree—had ever so thrilled her; only the Holy Hands of the Lady could do the like.

Was this then the answer? The Lady had said that She could see that the brahbehrnuh knew the answer, and She had also said that this singular young man-warrior, this Dook Bili, somehow had the power to alter the pattern so as to make the weaving one of life rather than of death. Yes, this must be the answer, she thought So she began to mentally frame the words she soon must speak to her Moon Maidens.

As the boles of the stunted hardwoods on the lower’ reaches of the surrounding hills became black-on-black, Meeree stirred beside her and the brahbehrnuh turned onto her right side to receive the wet, sleepy kiss which was her lover’s customary morning greeting. She responded briefly, meeting Meeree’s questing tonguetip with her own, but then gently disengaged and drew herself back. Smiling languidly, Meeree pressed her hard palm upon the brahbehmuh’s left breast and commenced to caress it through the fabric of the shirt with slow, circular strokes.

Feeling her body beginning to respond to the familiar and long-loved touch, the brahbehrnuh quickly gripped the young woman’s wrist and stilled the hand. “No, my darling, I’m sorry, but I must talk to you, now. There are many things I must tell you, and some will be very hard to bear… for us both. But you must listen and you must obey, as you love me and as you love Her, the Lady. For this night I was again with Her, our Silver Goddess, and all the words that I will speak to you and to our sisters come from Her.”

In each succeeding generation of Moon Maidens had their brahbehmuhs been the acknowledged mortal voice of Her, the Silver Lady of the skies of night, so Meeree listened dutifully to her lover’s words. So, too, did the rest of the Moon Maidens, in a private place, far up the narrow, twisting vale, where a spring-fed pool gave birth to the brooklet. But it was only after their scanty breakfast was eaten, the wounded women comforted as best was possible and the horses looked to.

“Last night, my sisters,” she began gravely, “I wakened to hear an owl. Twice did the holy bird call, then did I hear the beat of her wings, loud as distant thunder. She flew low over the clearing before my shelter, and I prayed that she would bear my message to the Lady.

“And, my sisters, my prayer was heard! The Lady did take up my spirit to bide for a while with Her, in Her place. There She did comfort me and console me and impart to me that which I now must tell you.”

The brahbehrnuh’s audience of warrior-women stood or sat or squatted attentively, no slightest shadow of disbelief on their faces, for ever had it been thus that their leaders were taken up and counseled by the Goddess in times of crisis, that they might partake of Her wisdom and by it guide their race, Her hereditary servants.

But a single, ill-omened time in all the long history of the folk of the Maidens of the Moon had a brahbehrnuh been ordered by the Council of Grandmothers to act against the counsel of the Goddess. And fewer than five out of each hundred of that doomed sortie had won back to the Hold; even fewer had been sound of body, none had been sound of mind, and most had died within bare moons of their return. Only that wretched brahbehrnuh had lived long enough after her return to conceive and bear a daughter, of which soon-orphaned child the present holder of that title was the direct descendant.

Therefore, as she lowered the pitch of her voice—for these, the Silver Lady’s words, were not for the ears of men—they crowded in closer, so as not to miss a syllable of the Sacred Words, Her Holy Counsel, as transmitted by the lips of the most recent descendant of uncounted generations of priestesses.