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Cybele awoke to five anxious faces peering down at her. She promptly turned and vomited down the gown of the nearest. Thomias. Oh, an accident to be sure. He wiped himself with a cloth and a tolerant smile. She apologised weakly, and everyone laughed with relief. "You are alive, at least." It was Jenna, the Healer. Was it her that Cybele had to thank for this? "I was so worried," said Kelle warmly, then burst into tears and bent forward to embrace her. A sweet girl. "And I." smiled Cabirius. He kissed her on the cheek. Attis knelt beside her and took her hand and held it to his lips. She could scarcely believe it, but tears were streaming down his cheeks. He whispered to her. "I thought you would both surely die." She remembered suddenly her pregnancy, and looked down to see her belly still looming large beneath the bedcovers. She felt a little hurt that Attis cared as much for this swelling within as he cared for her, but he stroked her hair with such tenderness that she could not be angry with him. "Who gave you the poison?" Jenna asked her. Her mind was still a little vague, but this much she remembered. "I drank only from Attis's flask," she answered. None thought Attis suspect, and so they were all clearly disappointed that she was not able to tell them her poisoner. "I had no flask that day," Attis said, shaking his head. "That day? How long have I been unaware?" she asked anxiously. "Two days and three nights," Cabirius answered, "for which Jenna and Attis have attended you faithfully." "Thank you for your kindness," she addressed the Healer. "I know I am no friend, and barely ally to you." "You were ill, so I gladly tended you. It is my calling," Jenna explained simply. "Well, I thank you anyways. It will not be forgotten." "Did you see nothing strange, then? From where did you take the flask, for surely it was not from me," Attis queried her. "I found it in the byre, and I thought surely you had left it there. Perhaps I was overcome by some further enchantment, for I felt an overwhelming thirst and drank from the flask. It tasted strongly of juniper berries and spirit, but I drank it all. The next that I remember was running like the wind after some small creature of the forest..." "A fawn. We found it later," offered Cabirius with a strange look on his face. "Then I awoke here, to your faces. I can see I am of little help to you all. Is the mystery so deep?" she asked. Attis looked at her with a grave seriousness. "Make no mistake, Cybele. They intended your death, and the death of our child." That child again. She fleetingly thought that she would just have soon had the thing purged from her womb, were it not too late. "Well, they have failed," she said dismissively. "I will not give them a second chance," he said, holding up a sharp knife from his belt. "They, they, they!" she said. "Do we still have no idea who stalks the Isle with murderous intent?" "The panel has got no further toward that answer in six moons," Attis said regretfully. "From the burning of Kore and this attempt on your life, we have gleaned few clues. It seems we take a step forward, then fall two steps back." "Perhaps if Jenna joined the panel..." Thomias suggested. It was not such a foolish idea. Her expertise in medicine and the herbal arts woul d make her valuable if it were a poisoner they now sought, not to mention her ability with magick. Cybele nodded her assent. "That would make the members ten," Attis pointed out. "It must be nine, for the Goddess. I have been of little use, so I shall withdraw from the panel myself." Cybele went to raise protest, but then realised that most of his suggestions had been when they were alone together, and this could continue without the need for him to appear at meetings. "It sounds like a wise move. Perhaps a change of membership may give the panel a new direction," she agreed. She went to pull herself up, but her head spun with dizziness and she fell back onto her pillow. "Take care," warned Jenna. "The poison has not yet all gone from your body. You were given the most dangerous herbs on the Isle, and you will not be well for many weeks. It is astounding that you are even alive at all." "That is only thanks to your skill," Attis said to Jenna with little gratitude in his voice. He was still angry that it was probably she who had unwittingly trained the poisoner, and was unable to identify which of her pupils was the most likely murderer. "Yes, Attis," Cabirius said emphatically, "it is thanks to Jenna that Cybele lives, and we would all do well to be grateful to her." "Let us have no bickering," Kelle interrupted. "Cybele needs to rest." "No, Kelle," Cybele said, "I wish to strike while the brand still steams. We should discuss what evidence we have here and now." "Convene the panel?" Jenna asked. "Yes, but first we here should offer suggestion. Of the five of you, there is more direct experience with Cerridwen's supporters than any member of the panel," Cybele pointed out. "Kelle, tell what you have seen." "Ummm... Not so much, really. My mind was addled by the potion still, and I only recall the most vague detail." "That is probably why you were left alive when Annia was killed," Cabirius commented. "I remember the calls of the ravens in the forest, and as we neared the clearing, I saw movement all around us, rushing shapes in the underbrush." "People? Wolves? Deer?" Thomias prodded. "At first, I thought wolves, but then I saw that they were people, leaping as fast as beasts through the wood despite their heavy hooded garments. They ran on all fours sometimes, but then raised up to full height to capture little Annia. I was then stuck from behind, and remember nothing more." "You said nothing before of the way in which they moved," said Cabirius. He had seen Cybele's victim, the mutilated fawn in the forest, and was beginning to think that perhaps there was something to the ancient legends of people being changed by sorcery into wolves. "I am only just remembering in more detail," Kelle explained in her own defence. "My memory may not be true, though, for it seems more like a dream in my mind." "You have done well, Kelle," said Cybele supportively. "What of your tale, then, Cabirius?" "I have no direct experience of my own, but I was first to speak to the terrified nurse who ran into the village screaming of the burning Hall of Kore. She said that she had seen a figure disappearing into the night, hooded and robed in black, and moving faster than a mortal would be able. Think you our enemies may be not of this world?" he asked. "Magick and sorcery blur the gap between the worlds," suggested Jenna. With a few powerful herbs and a strong pull of Moontide, the inhuman is possible for even we mortals. Think you Cybele could have hunted a deer and torn open its throat and belly in her normal state?" Cybele looked at them in shock. It was the first she had really thought of her own dim memory of that chase through the wood. A fawn, yes. She remembered leaping after it through the brush. On all fours, she realised with a creeping horror. It stumbled and fell, and she pounced onto its small struggling body and... It was too terrible. Was she a monster? A she-wolf? Or was it just a spell to make her think herself such a creature. She tried to imagine looking down at her own hands - or paws - as she leaped after that deer, but she could not tell whether they hand been true hands or covered in fur. Would it do any of them any good for her to admit this unspeakable memory? It seemed though that in some ways, they knew more of it than she did herself, and perhaps it held the key to the whole mystery. "I believe I may have been changed into a wolf by some curse or sorcery," she blurted. No-one seemed surprised. Perhaps they had all come to this conclusion already, in her long hours of delirium. Perhaps she had been still covered with fur when she had been brought here?! Attis seemed to read her thought. "You were quite human when I found you in the wood," he told her gently. "Poisoned and near death, but quite human. It is more likely that you were enchanted to believe yourself a wolf." "And the fawn to believe it as well?" she asked cynically. "Your strength would have been ninefold with the potion, Cybele," explained Jenna. "That is part of its poisonous effect. The body is torn by exertions too much for fragile human bones to bear." "But then it would have no bearing on Kelle's attackers, for Cerridwen's pack would scarcely poison themselves, would they?" Cybele argued. "That is true in some measure, but also remember that the single herb which produces that strength has an antidote. If taken soon afterward, the after-effects would be greatly lessened. Priests and Priestesses take the mushroom to help visions, do they not, even though it causes sickness and delirium?" "Yes, but it still seems impossible that I could have thought and moved so much like a beast," Cybele protested. "And more possible that you actually changed into a beast?" Attis countered with a protective smile. Jenna agreed with him. "I know herbs, Cybele," she said with authority. "You were poisoned, is all. If it were more than that and a little sorcery, how would I have been able to save you? Trust me, you were she-wolf only in your own mind." "Tell me then, Healer, what you know of Cerridwen's followers. Surely you have seen something of them in your fire?" Cybele asked. "No, never. They are strong, and veil their minds as well as they hood their faces. I am more able to read the minds of their familiars than themselves." Cybele looked at her with a little confusion. "What then do their familiars think?" Jenna laughed heartily. "Of flying and worms and stealing eggs. And on rare occasion, of crying warning when a stranger approaches. Ravens are not strong on intellect, after all." All laughed with her at the thought of knowing what filled the small mind of a bird. "Truly, you know nothing then of our enemy?" Cybele pressed. Jenna shrugged. "I see nothing, know nothing. I can feel a chill when they weave their darkness on the Isle, but no more than that. I would have no idea who they are. Any of you could follow her, and I could not be sure." "I think that unlikely," Cybele said. "I think we all here have an alibi for each murder." "Only each other, and you have felt yourself the simple spell to render a deed invisible before your open eyes," Jenna warned. That was true enough, but Cybele would not consider for a heartbeat that any of those present were involved. Except perhaps... "Thomias," she asked, "what know you of the Crone and her followers?" The old Priest seemed to have been roused from a daydream by mention of his name. "Hmmm?" he asked. "What is your knowledge of Cerridwen's pack?" Cybele repeated. "Errr, not much," he said slowly. "I think that they must be all Priestesses of the Goddess..." "Why?" challenged Attis. "Well, what man would follow the Goddess at all, let alone the Crone?" Thomias explained. Attis did not follow up his challenge, but merely turned away as though dismissing the validity of anything the older man had to say. "Ummm.... Well, I think they carry a brand...." Thomias added. "Yes, we had guessed that much," Cybele said impatiently. "Do you want it?" he offered helpfully. Cybele cocked her head in confusion. "You know it?" she asked. "I think that is what it is..." he mumbled. He started to wander out of the hut. "Where do you go, Thomias?" Attis demanded. "You may come with.. me..." he said in a vague tone, then continued out the door. Attis leaped after him and followed him to the small reading hut in the village. He and Cabirius had once spent long and fruitless hours here in private tuition. They were tormented times, he thought, but far simpler. He had had no real enemy then but his own desire. Thomias rummaged amongst some books and slates on a table, then produced a tiny metal badge bound to a long wire and handle. The whole thing was no longer than a hand, and looked so insignificant and fragile. On closer inspection, however, Attis knew it to be of great significance. It was certainly a brand, to be heated in a fire then pressed onto skin. Not the thick hide of an animal, though. It was far too flimsy for that. A brand for human skin, and in the shape of a wolf's head. This was the most important clue in their long investigation, and it had lain here unmentioned by this doddering fool for who knows how long. It was all he could do to refrain from striking the old Priest. "We must take this back to Cybele at once. This may unravel the whole mystery," he said, then rushed back to Jenna's hut with Thomias trailing behind at a slow amble. As he burst into Jenna's overheated hut, Cybele was vomiting again. This time, Kelle sat beside her on the bed, stroking her hair and holding a large bowl for Cybele to be sick into. "I think we have strained you too much for one day," Jenna told her between her violent spasms. "I think you should rest now." "Not here," said Attis. "She would feel much better washed, in her own bed in her own hut." Cybele could not answer, but nodded her agreement. When she had finished her final retch, Attis gently helped her from the bed. Her belly seemed more enormous than ever, and it was with some difficulty that she struggled to her feet. With Kelle's support from one side, and Attis on the other, she made the short journey to her own hut slowly, but on her own two feet. Cabirius had gone ahead of them to prepare a steaming bowl of water from which she could be washed. They stripped off her soiled gown and the three of them worked busily to make her bed, sponge her body and dress her in a clean bedgown. When finally she was placed in her bed, warm and comfortable, the three of them stood beside her attentively. "You need not all sleep with me," she jested lightly. They laughed, and Cabirius bent to kiss her on the cheek. He held Kelle's hand as the two left with wishes for her speedy recovery and the like. Attis sat beside her, facing her on the bed. He reached under his gown and removed a small shapeless jewel of amber. "You should wear this at all times," he told her. "It will protect you from Cerridwen's spells. Of course, you should also avoid drinking from strange flasks." She smiled at him and blew him a kiss. "Do you mind if I share your bed, as an additional protection?" he asked. "Have you not shared my bed for over a year?" Cybele replied. "But I thought you may feel the need to be alone." She shook her head. "Snuff the lamps, my dear Consort, and come to my bed. What I feel is the need to be wrapped in your strong arms." Later that night, Attis had a dream. It was vivid and sharp, filled with every sense. The bite of the frosted ground on his barefeet, the smell of pine needles and wood-smoke, the sounds of the night creatures of the forest, the unnatural half-light from the moon, and even a distinct taste in his mouth, of juniper spirit. He was moving quickly through the forest to the clearing. A hooded figure led him by the hand and stood him in the centre of Cerridwen's Ring. The figure then fell to all fours and changed shape beneath the gown. There were others, one on each of the stones set in the ground. Ten of them in total, he thought, thinking even from within the dream that this could be a vision to help him solve the mystery. The gown fell from the figure in front to reveal a huge she-wolf. She had her white Winter coat, with thick rich fur contrasting with her black eyes. She watched him with clear intelligence, then spoke as easily as a person. "Fill me with your seed, my most holy leader." Without thinking it even unusual, he fell to his knees, stripped off his gown and entered her, his hands holding her furred flanks as he thrust into her. She raised her head and gave a chilling howl. On the verge of spilling, he heard a distant call. Cybele was crying his name, trying to warn him. The she-wolf let out a deep growl which rumbled through her body, vibrating his erection within her. "We do not need her, kill the lapdog bitch," she said to the other wolves. They leaped up from their places, and he felt her pushing harder back against him. He suddenly realised in horror that this was no dream. An enchantment perhaps, but no dream. He pulled from her just as his seed burst forth, spilling all over her fur and the icy ground. She yelped as though pained, and turned to lick desperately at this seed. "Why?" she pleaded to him. "You are our leader, you cannot refuse us!" His head spun, and he struggled to his feet. He suddenly felt a sharp stabbing pain in his chest, and all went blank for heartbeat. He opened his eyes to Cybele's hut in darkness. The hut was filled with hooded robed figures. Cybele was struggling with three of them fiercely. He tried to go to her aid, but found his feet and hands were bound tightly to the bed. He cried her name and strained on his bindings. She managed to free one of her arms from her captors, tore the amulet from her neck and threw it to him. Despite his ties, he caught the thing easily in his right hand. He squeezed it tightly and invoked the most powerful force he could - Cerridwen herself. The room filled with a sickly green glow, and Attis's deep voice rang with an unnatural resonance. "Cerridwen, Hecate, Kali, hear my order, hear my plea. Tell your bitches they must leave. If Brigit dies, then so will thee." Cybele had ceased struggling, and been released. The dark-robed figures moved so quickly out the open door that they appeared almost to vanish into the very air. She pulled off her hood and ran to Attis's aid. She cut his hand-bindings with her food-knife, then lit a lamp as he undid his other restraints. In the warm comforting glow of the lamp, he was relieved to see that she appeared unharmed. She looked at him with horror, though. He remembered the pain in his chest - was he injured and gushing blood that she seemed so afraid? He hardly dared to look down, then wished he had not when he did. They had marked him with the brand. The outline of a wolf's head had been burned directly onto his crescent birthmark. "Cursed bitches!" he hissed. If he tried to cut the very mark from his flesh, he would lose his precious and sacred New Moon. "It is alright," Cybele tried to comfort him. "They cannot claim you by the touch of a brand. You are no bull to be bought and sold." Attis was not so sure. He felt distinctly uneasy that his defence had been to call upon the very one whom he had been struggling against. Of course She had ceased her attack when he acknowledged Her power. He felt like a submissive beaten dog. But had the large she-wolf not called him leader when she begged for his seed? What did it mean? What did any of it mean? Cybele held him close. Cybele, so simple and clear with her Goddess of the light, of growth, of birth. She managed to repudiate the Crone aspect of the Goddess altogether, but Attis could not deny Her hold. Cybele was washing him now - the weeping brand, the sticky patch on his thighs where he had spilt his seed. She bolted both the doors and left the lamp burning brightly as she curled in is arms and they fell into exhausted sleep.
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