Horn Crown (Witch World: High Hallack Series) (19 page)
Read Horn Crown (Witch World: High Hallack Series) Online
Authors: Andre Norton
“Go!” There was force, was it also colored by a faint fear. That command heightened the pressure on me. If she held firm I could well be swept from this place, and neither of us would ever be whole. Always we would know a lack to keep us hungered until we passed through the last Gate of all.
“Dians!” When I had not obeyed, Gathea turned again to the altar, to that pillar of light above it.
I could see, but not clearly (I do not think any man would ever see that presence as she was). But there was the shadow of a slender maiden there. The face she wore, misty as it was, had a kinship to Gathea's—closed, proud, keeping to vows which held against the fullness of life.
“Dians!” the girl cried again.
The face grew colder, showing a ghost of enmity. I remembered out of my newfound knowledge that Dians could kill a man who tempted or forced one of her maidens against that maiden's will.
I called upon nothing, no one. This struggle I must win for myself.
“Dians!” Was there a questioning rather than a foreboding in Gathea's voice now?
There formed above the cup, spiraling upward from the leaf's bounty, a golden mist—the color of Gunnora's harvest robe. Then that became amber and there was a heady fragrance to fill the space between us.
“Dians—” Gathea did not call; she murmured. Now she half turned from that silver figure to look at me. I spoke and my words came from a ritual older than a time any of my race could reckon:
“The field awaits the seed, the Power of the Lady opens the field to the seed. There comes the other to whom is given the duty of awakening—that the harvest may follow—that it may be for the nourishment of body, mind and spirit.”
Gathea came to me, one reluctant step and then another. The struggle was plain to read in her face. I held the cup, waiting. Choice, the choice was hers—I would not bring it to her, she must come to me—willingly.
For a long moment she stood so close that I might have stretched out my hand to touch her soft flesh. Only that was not the way. Yes, the power passed from man to maid—from new-made woman back to man. Only when the pattern was done so would the whole be greater than the parts. Still, the choice was Gathea's.
“Dians—” a fleeting whisper. Around us the silver light pulsed, now hot, now cold, as if the struggle which was within Gathea was measured thus.
She was looking deeply into my eyes. Nothing passed between us. I do not know what she sought to see, or if she could indeed find it. Slowly her hands arose from where they hung by her sides, and—Would she dash the cup from me? Or was her choice otherwise?
Above mine her fingers curled around the bowl of the goblet, curled and held. Then she lifted it out of my grasp. As she took it, I stooped a little more and touched her white feet, the old words ready on my tongue:
“Those who seek shall also find, and rich shall be the treasure found. In the Maiden lies the Queen, and in the Lady's name do I salute her, even as I salute thee.”
I raised my hands and laid them to where her slender thighs joined her body:
“In the Maiden awaits the fulfillment of the harvest. In the Lady's name so I salute thee.”
Rising to my feet, I touched her small, firm breasts.
“In the Maiden stands another who cometh forth when the time is ripe. In the Lady's name do I salute thee.”
Gathea held the cup level now between my lips and hers. In her eyes there was an awakening wonder—a change.
I drank from the cup she proffered, and then she drank also. Between us the cup was empty and she tossed it from her. It did not fall to the pavement, rather was carried through the air to stand upon the altar. That pillar of silver light there was deepening, changing, into rich gold. I took Gathea into my arms and the kiss I gave her, even as Gunnora had promised, was to seal my fate and open the last barrier.
The golden light—the warmth—we forgot all else. What remained was priestess and Lady, man and HornCrowned Lord. From their union would come power with which much could be wrought. As I took one who no longer would follow the sterile path of Dians, I felt that weight settle upon my head—the crown. Liegeman I had been, in this hour was I Lord.
Kinless—clanless—and crowned!