Under a Pagan Moon

Under a Pagan Moon

    A small light trickled down through the trees, bathing the small circle with its beams. The trees rattled quietly, swaying to the soft touch of the wind as it swept down through the small valley and over a large river that divided it. In the sky, the stars chatted amongst themselves, their shimmering sparkles their own silent language; and if one were to listen closely, they could almost hear the child-like laughter the stars themselves made. The forest itself was quiet, save for the hoot of an owl or cawing of a crow.

    Flakes of snow graced their hoods, melting slowly into the embroidered fabric that bore the stitches made by hand. It fell around their feet, landing gently upon the stones that surrounded them, piling up slowly. The two stared at one another a moment, their faces set in reserve as they watched the moon slowly float across the sky. They closed their eyes, a prayer coming from their lips, and then silence.

    The wind picked up, ruffling their cloaks as it whipped about them.

    The woman smiled, a small giggle left her and she took his hand. "You will play for me, yes, Cadhla?" she asked. She seemed to spin into his arms, her head pressing against his shoulder. When he did not respond, she stepped out of them, her hands reaching for the hood to let the tresses of orange-red hair fall from its confine in one long braid.

    Cadhla stared at her for a moment, silent as a stone with hazel eyes peering down at her beneath the shadows of a cloak's hood. He sighed, turning his eyes heavenward, feeling the hood slide from his head, revealing raven hair that trickled down about his shoulders and danced in the air the moment the cold wind touched his face. For a moment he fumbled with something behind his back, searching for the small case strapped to the belt about his waist until at last he pried the lid open and pulled from it a wooden piccolo that caught the moon's light on its silver keys.

    "And you wish me to play by what light, my beloved," he said at last. His voice was soft yet deep for one seemingly carved from stone.

    "By the light of Mother Moon. Is that not enough?" She laughed. "Oh! Let us build a fire, so high that even the stars bathe in its warmth! Let the fire dance upon the sky as the stones about it look on with their secret eyes! Then you will play for me, Cadhla Fine?"

    Cadhla let the smile widen upon his muscular, etched out face. The high cheek bones seemed to give his smile an impish quality, the lips two thin pieces that gave a soft, natural rosy color to his pale complexion. His eyes sparkled beneath the pale light of the moon. He nodded, a hand touching his forehead as he bowed and stood. The piccolo was returned to its sanctuary as he set himself the task of building a fire for his lady fair.

    "Yes, Ulrica. By the heavens I will do what you wish!"

~~~~~~~~~~

    Lachtna watched from a distance as Cadhla and Ulrica laughed about the small fire whose sparks slowly took to the air before an inferno of heat and energy was created. He'd been watching the whole time, listening to their every word, waiting for the perfect moment to strike, though he knew no better time than this. His hand brushed along his thigh, feeling the for dirk strapped there before letting a chill sweep over him: his skin danced with goose- bumps. With a scowl upon his broken face-it had been torn during a horrendous fight where he had been the loser-Lachtna cracked an empty smile. He ducked behind the tree as quickly as a mouse scurrying back to its hole before the night owl gets it, for Cadhla had sent Ulrica that way to gather more wood to dry near the small blaze.

    Oh, how lovely she looked to Lachtna, with her soft skin, ample breasts that were revealed part way due to a low square neck, and hair the color of carrots. So delicious. But then Cadhla came into view and Lachtna's expression changed from that of a pallid, compassionate beast to one that twisted and deformed his lips into the scowl he had before.

    Cadhla Fine was his brother, the youngest of four children. As a child, when the Gatherings were held, and the family joined about hand-in-hand around a fire much like the one burning now, it was Cadhla who was called upon to lead the ceremony in song and dance. A great leader, they called him. Praises drifted his way by the age of ten when he'd learn to master the art of the pipe, flute, piccolo, and the mandolin.

    But it wasn't just Cadhla that Lachtna envied.

    His sisters, Méabh and Saraid, had been blessed with parental lovingness and the right to tell the long forgotten tales of faeries, goblins, and the other stories children begged to listen to before drifting off into their quaint little dreams. But they were gone now, having died two seasons before of things unknown or unknowable.

    It was just Cadhla and Lachtna now. And he hated his brother with every passion, every fiber, every inch of his demolished soul. He too loved Ulrica. But what goddess would fall for such a beast who found pleasure in a sibling's strife when things would not go their way? He'd pondered it many a time. He pondered it now with a scarred hand pressed lightly to his bearded chin, which bore the traces of tangles throughout the small web of hairs.

    How ugly he was.

    Lachtna drew in his breath as Ulrica flitted away, the small breeze she created catching the ends and folds of her cloak and dress so that they looked a sea of never ending waves. A slight groan escaped him as he reached for the snow she had stepped in with her tiny slippers, taking a bit of it into his hand where it melted instantly. Then realizing he could be caught, he disappeared into the snowy shadows, watching with a stern eye as the two before him laughed and placed stones closer to the flames.

~~~~~~~~~~

    Cadhla drew the piccolo from its case once more, a sweet smile upon his face as he held it up, laughing quietly as he watched Ulrica wait patiently for her serenade to begin. Slowly, he pressed his lips to the small mouth piece, his eyes closing as his fingers found their places along the holes, and soon the slow, vibrations, melodic notes, and the story of a Pagan Moon sang out from the deepest part of his heart. He swayed to the rhythmic beat of the music he made, getting lost within the tale quickly.

    Ulrica, with her arms stretched high above her and her head thrown back, gazed heavenward and laughed quietly while swaying from side to side as the music touched her. With her arms lowering, her head bowing and tilting to the left, she took up the cloak's edges and opened them wide so that she revealed the purple silk lining and the embroidered cotehardie beneath. Like a butterfly she moved, pulling the edge of one side forward in on long arch skyward so that it seemed a wing flapping to the beat of the sweet, sweet song, skimming the fire's flames as she spun about the circle of stones. She dropped that first side before pulling the other in the same motion. Gently, she let the cloak go and spun, feeling the cloak and skirt expand and create ripples along the air. Her braid fell before her shoulders, or went about her neck, or returned into place within the small dip her back made when her shoulders arched backwards, as she spun and danced within the song's magic.

    There came a sudden screech, a high note gone too sharp during the sweetest part, then silent when it wasn't supposed to. A sound as if someone hit the snow followed.

    Ulrica stopped immediately.

    When she turned, a frightened look upon her face, she screamed at the sight before her: Cadhla Fine was lying face down, the piccolo off to the side and buried halfway in the reddening snow. A silver handle glistened in the light of the moon that caught the red and yellow jewels surrounding the dragon's head. Ulrica shrieked again as she rushed to his side, her hands turning him over in one burst of energy that faded quickly save for the rushing of her heart pounding deep in her bosom. She held him close, rocking back and forth, her tears splattering against the cold forehead of her love.

    Lachtna withdrew from the shadows and pressed his fingers deep into her shoulder. He retracted his hand just as fast as he had placed it on her because Ulrica screamed and whipped about and shrank back.

    "What have you done to Cadhla? What have you done?" came her frantic questions. She scrambled to her feet as Lachtna went to touch her again, almost falling over her own two feet. "Stay away, changeling. Stay away!"

    "Ulrica, don't fear me. I won't harm you. I ... I just-"

    "Oh, changeling. What have you done? Done? Done!" Ulrica could feel the fire's warmth as she inched her way towards it, her eyes trained on Lachtna. She held a hand up, looking to the fire, to Cadhla, then to the hideous man before her, the tears streaking her face.

    Lachtna took just one step and stopped. He turned away for a moment lifting his face skyward to look at the pale shafts of light filtering in through the trees' branches. His eyes closed as the wind licked at his strands of tangled hair and the cloak hanging almost heavily around his shoulders. When he opened them at last, he caught Ulrica staring deep into the fire, her body leaning forward slightly. He called out to her, "No, Ulrica, don't step closer to the fire anymore!" causing her to jerk and stiffen. She turned a wide-eyed expression on him.

    "Ulrica, listen to me, please. I beg of you; by your Mother, I beg of you. I love you, Ulrica. I've loved you always. Please, Ulrica. Don't turn away from me. Don't you see? Don't you understand? I want you, Ulrica. I've taken my own brother's life to show you my love. You're mine, now. All mine. I even fell to passion when Cadhla had you.

    "Oh! How I hate my brother. So handsome he was. Look at how, even in death, he is still beautiful. Vile creature! My parents loved him more than me. Cadhla was given everything, and everything he could have gotten. Oh, Ulrica. I wept and grew with such hatred when he'd taken your heart and given you his! My darling," a strange laugh, "sisters, blessed be, were just like him. Hags, they were. I was glad to see them dead.

    "I was locked from my parents, their hearts. But I wish to be taken in by yours. Can you, you, you just love me as I love you? See me not as some beast!" Ulrica drew up her arms, pressing the heel of her hands into her drenched eyes and wept loudly. She trembled, the cloak fluttering about her so much that they could have caught fire if they would have fluttered any closer to the blaze.

    "No! You killed Cadhla, and now you want me to listen to your decrees?" she screamed, her fists landing against her thigh. She held tight to her sides and hunched over, weeping louder. Her eyes drifted to the fire's silent dancing flames as she rose, shaking even more. "Speak if you must. Beg if you must. But do not stand there and ask for my pity or love. I give you nothing, changeling. Nothing, I say.

    "My soul belongs to Cadhla Fine!"

    Lachtna ran towards her as she threw herself into the flames. High pitch screams filled the air as sparks drifted towards the sky. She twisted and writhed within the great pit of deadly heat, screamed and scratched, and cried out Cadhla's name until there came a silence, save for the crackling of the flames.

    He watched, motionless, and took in the smells before turning away.

~~~~~~~~~~

    The rain came in one hard torment that pelted Lachtna in the head and the bloodied ground around him. A ghastly wind whistled through the trees that stood naked and susceptible to the storm's madness. The moon disappeared for a time, heavy black and gray clouds rolling over it so slowly that the area was dark. Lightning forked the sky, lighting it one second then rendering it just as black as before.

    Lachtna ran. He ran deep into the woods, clawing at the trees that reached for him with their branches. His feet came across a fallen log and he fell, face first into the snow and gathering puddles of muddy water. His breath came quick, in stuccato breaths that were a chore for him to take in. Everywhere the trees seemed to come alive as the wind howled and sky wept her freezing tears.

    Lachtna fell once more, and once more he was on his feet, running from the terrible sights around him. He stopped short of a cliff, whose edge over looked a river canyon that dropped off at a large waterfall. He screamed as the lightning danced across the sky and the wind fell against his skin.

    Suddenly, the ground moved beneath him and the cliff began to crumble from under foot. A flash; a crackle: and Lachtna was falling fast down into the canyon, crying his beloved's name as he went.

    The winds died down shortly, leaving but soft whispers that eventually faded into silence as the rain slowed and stopped as well. Clouds drifted onward and soon, a light trickled in through the branches and bathed the valley and its river pallid shards of light. Mists from the fire now mingled with the forest dew and a crow, far out into the distance, cawed.