S. Stirling - Dies The Fire

"We were around Craigswood, in Idaho," he said. "A bunch of bandits-they called themselves the Devil Dogs; a lot of them were in a biker gang before the Change- were trying to-"

Juniper leaned back with a cup of the mead and listened, smiling slightly to herself. Havel gave the story baldly, in what she imagined was the style of a military report.

The Chief of the Mackenzies let her storyteller's mind take them and weave in scent and sound and the thoughts of humankind; she could feel the beginnings of a song stirring and that felt very good indeed. Her fingers moved, unconsciously strumming-Mike Havel's theme, sharp as knife steel, but with hidden depths like rushing water, and a cold clear tang of danger:

It had been too long a time since she'd done much composing, and she'd never had quite this sort of subject.

S o that's Larsdalen," Juniper Mackenzie said.

Her clansfolk-the score or so who'd come along to escort their allies home-clustered behind her, their horses stamping and snorting breath-plumes into the crisp evening air. The clouds had parted for a while, and the sun gilded every grass blade and spiderweb with diamonds. The noise and bustle of the Bearkiller caravan and their herds were behind for now, though she could hear the lowing of cattle in the distance.

Ahead the broad valley narrowed, rising to low forested heights north and west, shaggy with Douglas fir and yellow-leaved oak, silhouetted against the setting sun. Below the rolling lands were silent, grass waist-high in the pastures, the blocks of orchard and vineyard gone shaggy with a year's neglect and sere with winter-save that not one bunch of grapes hung withered into raisins. Willows dropped their tresses into ponds, and ducks swam. The big house on its hill was yellowish-red brick, mellow, bowered in its trees-from this distance the broken windows and doors swinging free couldn't be seen.

No smoke came from its chimneys, but you could imagine it, and a bustle of life among the barns and cottages and outbuildings, under the musty damp-leaf smell of the dying year.

Havel and his Signe walked past them, leading their horses. Hooves and feet crunched on the gravel of the drive. The Bear Lord stopped, handed her his helmet with its snarling namesake crest. His people gathered around him, mostly afoot; from the saddle Juniper could still see him over their heads.

"I've ran far enough, come far enough. This earth is mine."

Signe whispered in his ear, and he nodded before he went on, a little louder: "None of its folk will want for bread or justice or a strong arm."

His eyes met Juniper's for an instant, wholly serious. He went to one knee, cut a section of turf loose, and plunged his hand into the moist dark dirt below. For a moment he looked at it, brought it to his lips for an instant.

Then he stood, his voice powerful, harder somehow than usual:

"And I shall be father to this land and all its people. So witness all of you here."^ t "So witness Earth-" He held out the handful of soil. His fist rose heavenward, clenching on the dirt:

"So witness Sky."

Juniper felt a sudden chill as the Bear-killers broke into cheers and waved their blades aloft; not fear or anger or alarm, but a whistling like great winds blowing through her soul. With an effort, she shrugged it aside and rode her own horse forward, Eilir at her side.

"Lord Bear," she said.

He turned, and something seemed to pass from his face; the crooked smile came back.

"You're still welcome to stay the night," he said. "We owe you Mackenzies, and it's a long ride back to your land."

Juniper laughed. "I'll take you up on that, and many of mine, often. But right now you'll have plenty to do settling in."

"God knows we do," he said, reaching up and shaking her hand. Then: "Sorry."

Juniper looked down and saw that the soil had rubbed off on her fingers as well.

"Not a problem," she said. "It's our Mother's earth, after all. Good luck-and blessed be. Merry met, and merry parting, and merry meet again!"

She nodded to Signe and turned her mount. They rode beside the graveled road, then cut across a pasture to let the great caravan pass, waving to faces they knew. Eilir turned in her saddle to exchange an exuberant two-armed wave to Astrid Larsson, before the youngster lifted her horse over a fence and rode whooping up the valley to her home.

Astrid is very cool, Eilir signed. I am most definitely going to visit my anamchara a lot.

Juniper nodded absently. Her daughter cocked an eye. What's with, excessively spooky High Priestess Mom? You've got that the-Otherworld-is-talking-to-me look again.

The Chief of the Mackenzies made herself shrug and laugh. "Nothing, my heart," she said.

Oh, sure.

"It's just: the King is Bridegroom to the land, and the Goddess:

"

Eilir looked at her. What is that supposed to mean?

"I don't know," Juniper said.

Suddenly she wanted to be home, very badly. She legged her horse up to a trot, and the clansfolk settled their longbows over their shoulders and followed, their plaids fluttering in the wind of their passage.

I don't know, she thought to herself, and made the Invoking sign. But perhaps You will be telling me, eh?

A Wiccanning was a merry sort of ritual, introducing the newborn or new-come children to the Lady and the Lord; it was usually done during the day. Today was cold, but there had been a break in the clouds, and the great snow-peaks towered over them like citadels, the firs deep green and secret. Her people sang as they trod the path up to the sacred wood, carrying the bundled little ones and leading those a little older by the hand, and there was to be a party day afterwards, with roast spiced apples and games.

": Come away, human child

To the woods and waters wild;

With a faerie, hand in hand: "

The oaks were leafless, and the spring burbled over rocks flecked with ice, but the last of the snow had melted; the grass within the trees was a soft muted frost-kissed green. The air smelled of earth and cold, a smell like deep sleep, and the chill freshness of the conifers. Eilir carried her brother-with the High Priestess and the High Priest both having children of their own to be welcomed, there would be a bit of juggling back and forth.

Outside the Circle they all stood silent for a moment, listening to the world. A crow cried somewhere, gruk-gruk-gruk, loud beneath the creaking of wood and the fall of water. Dennis sighed as he opened his eyes and looked down on the face of his daughter; Terry stood beside his mother and watched his newborn sister with something of the same wonder.

Sometimes casting the Circle was a thing that made the hair bristle along Juniper's spine with awe. Today it was as if a hand was laid gently on her head, bringing spring's promise, dancing in a meadow starred with flowers. Sword and censer, water and salt went about the ring.

Chuck's face was smiling behind the elk mask as he spoke:

"Now do I call you to this our Circle, great Lord of all, by Your many names; Green Man, Horned One, Trickster, Brother, Lover; mighty Warrior, strong Defender, wise Sage-"

Her own voice was soft: " I call You as Mother-of-All. Triple Moon, Ever-changing One, I invoke and call upon Thee."

The words and gestures flowed, as each child was presented to the Quarters. For Chuck and Judy, things were a little different as they brought Mary and Sanjay and Daniel to the altar in turn, lighting a candle for each; the ritual changed a bit for an adoption:

"We chose this child above all others. We freely bring Mary to the altar to thank the Lady and the Lord for joining her with us…"

But for the solemnity of the moment she would have laughed with joy as the girl sipped gravely from the consecrated chalice and tasted the biscuit, face brimming with the moment, as the voices rose in the cry of Blessed be.