The Dark Citadel (The Green Woman) (24 page)

Deborah held her breath as Sleipnir neighed and
bent his head to the ground. She took a hesitant step forward, and the horse
neighed in encouragement. She felt no fear, cared nothing at all for what might
happen next. If the creature wanted to pound her into dust, she wouldn’t move a
muscle to stop it. She took another step towards the arched neck, and Sleipnir
swung his head towards her. Before she could react at all, she found herself on
the horse’s back, grabbing wildly at the thick mane as he leapt forward into
the depths of the northern forest.

The Centaurs
stamped
impatiently as they prepared to leave. The darkening sky above them was
suddenly clear of the obscuring cloud and filled with tiny pinpricks of stars.
The night air trembled and shimmered with a silvery light.

“Look,” a fair Centaur cried out in an excited
voice, pointing to a brilliant light high in the eastern sky. “Something great
was born or died this night.”

They all stared in silence at the star that shone
hard and unbearably bright in a sky washed clean of all the hanging rags of
grey fumes. The star seemed to grow brighter and stronger, and even to move
higher, pouring a pure silver light over the velvet darkness.

* * * *

Far away, beyond the Great River of Death, high on the slopes of the
northern mountains, a girl who used to be called Deborah in another life sat wrapped
in her own thoughts while a great grey horse cropped the grass beside her. She
sat alone, the loneliest girl in the world. What she had always yearned for she
had not found; what she had found to love she had lost. She was empty. Hollow.
Nothing. Just a void in the air. Her old life had died, and she was not sure
another had begun. She had learned so much, let so much of her arid bitterness
go, and all she could see ahead was death. All she wanted was to walk the paths
of light, to follow behind Samariel and Jonah.

The girl raised her eyes and through a veil of
tears watched a bright star as it rose in the sky. The star glittered, bright
as the sparks of a funeral fire, and the girl understood the light of that star
would follow her all her life.

* * * *

The black Centaur broke the silence. “Come. The star moves, and so must we
if we are to meet the others at the Queen’s gate.”

While the wounded Centaurs were helped back to
safety across the river, the rest prepared to take Maeve and Zachariah to join the
Queen’s host. The time to open the prison of Providence had come. Zachariah
looked at Maeve, at the conflicting emotions that flew across her face, and
felt a surge of courage he had not known he possessed. Ezekiel and Grania were
perhaps dead by now, the Dananns torn to pieces by the mob, whipped up by the
Elders’ lies. Maeve’s face was pale but determined, and Zachariah knew she was
struggling to master her fears. She would fight the demon, whatever form it
took. And he would fight with her.

The wastes of
Providence glittered with an unaccustomed brilliance.
The brown desert had sprouted pennons and banners. Red, green, and gold cloaks
fluttered; red, gold, and green gems gleamed; bronze spear points sparkled. The
best horses in the world galloped the trackless wilderness while bright-haired
warriors bared white teeth in uproarious laughter as they discussed the coming
conflict. The army of the four provinces advanced, bringing with it a hint of
green mists, storm-lashed cliffs, placid rivers, and white strands. The army
yelled with one throat and dashed for the meeting place, their wild horses
shaking their manes and snorting excitedly.

 
Oscar’s heart swelled within him. His
kinsmen were around him, his friends with their magicians, each with a little
of the old magic in his fingertips, all racing to answer the call. The broken
Pattern was to be mended; the world was to be renewed. But there was something
else too, another call was drawing his heart, and the feeling was at once
exhilarating and daunting. It was a feeling stronger than any he had felt
before, and he longed to see the lips, the throat, the face of the woman, for
he was certain it was a woman, sending out the call. Yet his excitement was run
through with a ripple of fear—fear that he, Oscar of the Fianna, nephew
of the High Queen, would lose his heart somewhere in this wilderness far from
home.

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank the people who helped turn this story into a book:
Harriet McWatters, my friend and reader, who encouraged, commented, and
suggested until I had a plot that bore close scrutiny, with events in a logical
order, and most of the daftnesses removed; Susan Sipal who edited with great
sensitivity, as if she was sitting next to me and nudging me in the right
direction; my father John William Dougherty and great-grandfather James
Brennan, both poets and writers, who must have passed on a little of their love
of words and some of their gift for expressing it.

In
the Beginning
is a collection of three stories intended for readers
of
The
Dark Citadel
curious to know more about the dark world of Providence
and the harsh desert wastes surrounding it.

Of Dreams and Horses
tells how Rachel
discovers the magic and the burden of the Memory. Plucked from the clutches of
the Protector, she is set on a path of discovery and creation that leads to a
bittersweet destiny.

Fathers and Brothers
is about Hector, his
childhood introduction to cruelty and loss at the hands of his father, and how
Abaddon’s choice falls upon this small, broken creature to be his instrument.

Jonah’s Story
tells of another child
with a tragic childhood, but unlike Hector, Jonah’s humanity is not snatched
from him: it matures and grows in the solitude of the desert, until the time
comes to fulfil his destiny—helping another to fulfil hers.

The
Subtle Fiend
, second volume of
The Green Woman
.

When reality becomes a nightmare, only dreams can save the world.

Deborah, daughter of the fabled Green Woman, has disappeared, and Hera,
another grey-robed schoolgirl, has become the hostage in her place. Hera fears
she will be left to languish, unnoticed and forgotten, in her prison cell. But
the honesty in her eyes touches a young Black Boy, her prison guard—Amon.

Amon is destined for a military career, but
convinced of the innocence of his prisoner, he begins to question the laws and
values of his city. In befriending Hera, he risks his life by standing between
her and the most powerful man in Providence—the Protector.

The Protector’s new hostage will serve her purpose.
After all, one veiled girl looks much like another. But if Deborah has joined
her mother and her host of myths and stories, the sham will be revealed. To
hang onto power the Protector determines to destroy the Green Woman's allies
within Providence by lighting the sacrificial fires of Moloch. When the flames
have burned out none will be left, not even the child at its mother's breast.

As the flames of evil leap and dance in Providence,
Hera and Amon resolve to defy the Protector, with courage as their only weapon.

About the author

Jane Dougherty is a product of the Irish diaspora. She was brought up in
Yorkshire, educated at Manchester and London, then moved to Paris to work in
the wine trade. She now lives in Bordeaux with her family, a Spanish greyhound,
and a posse of cats. She writes fantasy with a touch of history and mythology
and enjoys retelling Celtic legends. She is a sucker for anything Viking.
Following a family tradition, she also writes poetry and has been published in
Poetry
Nook Magazine
and
The Bamboo Hut
.