The Last Matriarch

By Kisma K. Stepanich-Reidling

In this gripping new novel, interspersed with authentic ancient earth rituals and magic, Stepanich-Reidling takes us on an adventure into Land Bann, where priestesses communicate through the art of sounding and the land has been ruled by a succession of Matriarchs. When Lord Mahnet and his men arrive on the shore of Land Bann, life is threatened. When learning of Mahnets secret mission -- to enforce a male god upon the people -- Captain Garthe creates anarchy and he and his faction form an alliance with the kinfolk. When the kinfolk learn of the invaders, Priestess Muiranda, the next Matriarch twists fate by desperately seeking help from the Ancient Ones and evoking the dark side of Goddess. Garthe and Muiranda join forces and lead their people into battle against Lord Mahnet, but the damage wrought by Muirandas meddling in the supernatural creates chaos. The Ancient Ones withdraw from the world, taking with them the magic of the land. Murder, rape and moral battles ensue. Only Muiranda and Garthe can bring a balance to the land, but Muiranda is lost to the Dark One. Garthe must find a way to reach her before its too late.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jul 8, 2004
• ISBN: 9781418416522

Kisma K. Stepanich-Reidling

Kisma K. Stepanich-Reidling is the author of the popular new novel series The Faery Chronicles, including Faery With Teeth and the new, Oceans of Time. She has written numerous books on the Irish Faery-Faith tradition, including Faery-Faith Traditional Wisdom~Codex 1; Faery Initiations, Stone, Swords, Spear & Cauldron; and, Faery Wicca Tarot. She has also authored three books on women spirituality and Earth awareness, including An Act of Woman Power, still in publication after two decades. Kisma lives in Southern California with her husband and son. Together, they conduct annual sacred pilgrimages to Ireland. Visit Kisma's website at http://www.FaeryFaith.org

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© 2004 Kisma K. Stepanich-Reidling.

All Rights Reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the

written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 05/12/04

ISBN: 1-4184-1652-5 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4184-1652-2 (ebook)

ISBN: 1-4184-1653-3 (sc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2004105317

Contents

PROLOGUE

THE INVASION BEGINS

LAND BANN

TWO WORLDS COLLIDE

OUTBREAK OF WAR

A NEW WAY

UNDER THE NAME Kisma K. Stepanich

An Act of Woman Power

The Gaia Tradition: Celebrating the Seasons of Mother Earth

Sister Moon Lodge: The Power and Mystery of Menstruation

Faery Wicca, Book One

Faery Wicca, Book Two

Faery Wicca Tarot

UNDER THE NAME Kisma K. Stepanich-Reidling

The Druid Clan of Dana

The Beauty of Morrigu

The Love of Dana

The Truth of Brigid

The Art of Meditation, Book One

The Art of Meditation, Book Two

Faery Faith Traditional Wisdom, Codex 1 and 2

FICTION

Faery With Teeth, Book One of the Faery Chronicles

Oceans of Time, Book Two of the Faery Chronicles

Children of the Stars, Book Three of the Faery Chronicles

…For My Family…

"… from the looms of Life are spun,

Warp of shadow and woof of sun—"

~ Fiona Macleod

PROLOGUE

"I find under the boughs of love and hate

Eternal Beauty wandering on her way."

~ The Rose Upon the Road of Time, Fiona Macleod

Muiranda stared at the water’s surface, waiting for it to still. She leaned over the edge. Her own reflection, white and silky, shimmered before her like the elusive image of a face held in the mind before waking. She forced her attention to the reflection of the moon and watched as it slid into the center of the pool. Once there it came to life, producing etheric bodies of dancing sprites.

The spell of the moon pulled at Muiranda, drawing her vision deeper into its enchantment. The sprites beckoned with long slender arms, reaching out, twirling away. Their bodies, enfolded with layers of gossamer, glistened like jewels in the misty world beyond.

Come to us, their chiming voices whispered upon the surface of the water. Come to us and let us flow through you into the wise one.

Entangled in the web of magic woven by the moon-maidens, Muiranda stretched her hand toward the water, stretched it to take hold of one of the moonbeams.

Cool energy stabbed the palm of her hand and rushed up her arm. Energy exploded in her head. The ground beneath her knees seemed to physically shift. Her body felt as light as the misty clouds floating lazily above the world on a soft summer day. A wave of nausea forced Muiranda to swallow. She closed her eyes trying to stop the spinning in her head. Each heartbeat echoed in her ears, pumping wetness to the surface of her skin. Blurry-eyed, she focused on Matriarch Elana as the shining face of Goddess Bann appeared.

Matriarch Elana’s eyes snapped open. White light flashed from them. A silent shudder went through the crowd. The hair on necks prickled. All standing instantly kneeled. Silence shrouded the Ritual Yard. Matriarch Elana, filled with the energy of the Great Bann, became the force of life, of the universe.

The power of Bann rushed through mortal veins, a channel, and a voice for the feminine principle of life. In stepping aside to become such a channel, Matriarch Elana was, in one respect, gone, and Goddess Bann walked the earth once more. The magnificent Bann looked through the eyes of a mortal. Her deep sultry voice rang into the night.

"I AM the Star above you. I AM the Star within you. I AM the Star deep within the dark earth. Dreams fulfilled and Destiny. The cycles of life, flowing and receding, weaving round, spiraling out and within. I AM all that you see of the natural beauty of the Green Earth. Mother to each element. Sovereign of all things spiritual, Queen of Heaven, Queen of the Underworld, Queen of the Living, Queen of the Dead, Queen of the Blessed Immortals. I AM.

"Hearken unto My words. Look to Me for the answers. Forget not from where you came, where you are now, the future into which I call you. Know always, that I AM that which is with you, and in you, and of you! Thus shall your spirits attain to the deepest mystery of life. Thus shall your inner most Authentic Self be enfolded in the ecstasies of the Infinite. These things have I made law, Enduring for the million ages.

Oh, My children, her husky voice choked. I come to you this night to reveal the changes. Free will is My gift to kindred-kind. Free will to serve whom you will, and you, My children, have revered Me since time began. Yet know this, there are men who do not serve Me, but seek to destroy Me and anyone who serves Me.

An audible gasp rose from the congregation. A hissing of whispers spread like wildfire through the Ritual Yard. Goddess Bann raised her hand into the air, silencing the ruckus. Her voice came again.

The world is changing and the time has come to allow the Destiny of man to have his time of fulfillment. Other civilizations journey, seeking new lands, new trade, new blood. This land that worships Me is not as isolated as you believe it to be. One day, it too shall fade away. Know this, that though My worship will be denied, those of you who continue to seek Me, and know Me, I will not forsake you. For I shall be there, within you, within your heart. I AM with you for all time. I AM that which is attained at the end of desire. So live, and rejoice in our togetherness. And remember who you are: Children of Bann.

THE INVASION BEGINS

"… Sure, now, it’s a blind man I am, but I’m thinking I see

The shadow of you crawling across the dead.

Soon you will twine your arm around his shaking knee,

And be whispering your silence into his listless head…."

~ Torcall Dall

Sweet Jessica. Such a young lass. So fair. So full of life and promise, with long curls falling down her back like an ebony waterfall.

Garthe, I’m going to Lucine, her delicate voice sang. The Mother calls me. I want so much to be Her Maiden. She threw her arms around Garthe’s neck and kissed his cheek.

Promise me you won’t tell father until I’ve sent you word I’ve arrived safely in Lucine. He’ll be so angry with me. Her gray eyes shined. She had turned the wheel into her thirteenth year and the bleeding had come upon her. She was becoming a woman and needed the guidance of other women.

Garthe pulled her arms from his neck and held her tiny, delicate hands in his own, looking at them before bringing them to his lips and kissing each fingertip.

Ah, blossom, he said, smiling. I only wish your Ma could see your beauty. She would smile never ending. ‘Tis not fair when birthing takes a woman’s life.

His words brought a frown to his little sister’s brow. He cradled her head between his hands, kissing her frown away.

She must have passed her life into you, Jessica, for if memory serves me right, you are the splitting image of her. You must remember that I am nine years your senior and helped raise you, you little no-good muskrat.

Jessica giggled and pulled away. Flinging her head back, she raised her arms to the heavens and danced in a circle, the hem of her dress flaring

I am so happy brother. I know I shall make a fine Maiden. Jessica fell to the ground. Promise me, if I be able to get word to you of me Dedication day that you’ll come for the celebration feast? Promise me.

Garthe looked down at her slight form; a foolishly proud smile splashed across his face.

Yes, blossom, I promise. Now up we go. He held out his hand to her. And let’s not have any more talk of this kind, lest we both be skinned alive. I’ll make the arrangements for you to leave in two nights. I’ll be sorry I did, I can tell you that for nothing, but, he caressed her soft black hair. Your Ma told me once that not every woman hears the calling of the Mother and those who do should hearken to it or be plagued with sorrow all their days through. And you deserve happiness.

Jessica threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek.

Land Ho!

Garthe’s body jerked at the intrusion; the memory flew from him. He peered up to the first mate and followed the man’s pointing finger. A slim shadow of land appeared on the horizon. Garthe sighed with relief. Their expedition had been at sea four months. The sighting brought a roar of excitement from the crew.

Captain Garthe, Lord Mahnet asks for you.

Garthe’s blue eyes focused on Aragon’s face. As usual, the lad wore a snarl. Aragon was Lord Mahnet’s nephew and insisted on being treated differently than the other men in Garthe’s crew, but Garthe would have no favoritism on his ship, least of all to one as undeserving as Aragon. With a nod of his head he dismissed Aragon, who stood ground.

He said now!

Unruffled, Garthe turned to his first mate, who had shimmied down the mast and now stood at his side.

Gaelann, my good man, see that the other two ships have sighted the land, and see that their captain’s come aboard for dinner in me quarters.

Yes, Captain, said Gaelann, side-glancing Aragon before turning away in execution of the captain’s orders.

What you be looking at? snarled Aragon. His beady black eyes sliced into Gaelann.

A rat, said Gaelann, to which other members of the crew responded with laughter.

You’ll be sorry for that, snapped Aragon, pushing past Garthe and disappearing beneath deck.

Mind yourself Gaelann, said Garthe, running his hand through his black hair. I’ll be catching shit from that comment?

Yes, Captain. Sorry, but that lad gets the worst of me, said Gaelann.

Garthe raised his eyebrows and nodded. He turned and made his way below deck. He gave a sharp rap on the door of Lord Mahnet’s quarters.

Enter, boomed a voice from the other side of the door.

Garthe pushed the door open and stepped inside. At a broad wooden desk sat Lord Mahnet, an older image of Aragon. He glanced up at Garthe.

Yes?

I’ve arranged for a captain’s dinner in me quarters this evening, Sir, said Garthe.

Good. You’ll inform Jason that he and his crew will return at first light to Mooremere for reinforcements. They are to make haste. He is not to waste more than one week’s time in port. Further, I will transfer to Treudlor’s ship this evening. We will maintain a safe distance from land, while you take your ship to shore. Send out a scouting party to scour the immediate area.

Yes, Lord Mahnet. Will this scouting party use the horses?

Lord Mahnet fingered his closely cropped bearded chin. His thin lips pursed together tightly.

The horses would need to be transferred on board. Too much of a risk. They’ll go on foot, he said. You’re dismissed. He waved his hand.

Garthe closed the door behind him.

Beyond the Tarian Mountains rested the North Plateau, and beyond the North Plateau rested the northern tip of the island, a fairly large expanse of land that lay desolate. Off the shore of the northern tip, Garthe’s ship anchored. Six men rowed ashore to scout the relatively flat land. Their mission was to find inhabitants and take a closer look at the great plateau that loomed in the distance. Once on land, the six men paired-up and moved, on foot, in opposite directions.

Ten days later, the scouts returned to ship. The reports Garthe heard were the same: no inhabitants, a few wild animals, large cats and wolves among the biggest, ocean surrounding both sides of the land. The most important news was the height of the plateau.

It looks treacherous alright, said one scout. But sure we can scale it. The other scouts nodded in agreement. And I found this stuck in a niche near the plateau. The man handed a small figurine to Garthe. What make you of it, Captain?

Garthe studied the small stone rudely carved in the shape of a pregnant woman. I’d best keep this, he murmured, sliding the statue into his pocket. Garthe suspected its meaning and if right, it was a possible sign that the people of this land either worshipped the Great Mother, or at one time had. This alarmed Garthe. Lord Mahnet was allied with a warrior god, and didn’t think twice at desecrating goddess temples or annihilating any man, woman or child, who refused to change allegiance.

Without further discussion, Garthe sent a rower to Lord Mahnet’s ship with a message that all was safe to go ashore.

Within a month, a crude town was contrived. For the most part it was a tent-settlement, although two structures had been built with wood and other materials carried on the ships. The main building was Lord Mahnet’s abode and the other building, not quite as large, became the council hall, wherein the first council was being held.

Garthe stood looking out a window, fingering the goddess figurine in his pocket. He’d not told anyone about it; wasn’t quite sure if he should. His deep-blue eyes rested on the plateau, rising in the distance. His chiseled face portrayed a handsome strength. Full lips, edged with deep dimples, softened the harshness of a scar that spread down his right cheek. He wore his black, shoulder-length hair pulled back in a ponytail.

Garthe turned and looked upon the thin, chiseled face of Lord Mahnet, whose cold eyes, Garthe thought, looked as equally weary as his own. Lord Mahnet sat in a bulky chair at the end of the table occupying the center of the room. Graying hair at the temples, with a strip of gray down the center of beard, gave the man a demonic appearance. His attention was fixed on a piece of paper.

The truce officer had written a proposal and sat quietly, with eyes steadied on the table before him. Four other men sat scattered around the table. Garthe’s eyes jumped from face-to-face, coming to rest on Aragon, who sat cleaning the dirt from under his fingernails with the tip of a dagger.

Aragon’s jet-black eyes watched the accountant, a squint-eyed man, with bitten fingernails, absorbed in his figures. To Aragon, the men his uncle had chosen as Board-of-Arms greatly irritated him; to him they were all incompetent sowbellies. Aragon looked around the table with evident disgust scrawled across his face. He stabbed the point of the dagger into the wood table, causing all eyes in the room to distract to his interruption.

Aragon, Lord Mahnet boomed. Must you fidget like a child?

Aragon hated the way his uncle spoke to him as if he were a buffoon. A crisp grin spread across his thin lips. He balanced the dagger delicately on his fingertips, his left pinkie raised, before laying it on the table.

Garthe turned from the window and met Aragon’s hateful eyes. He returned to his seat next to Lord Mahnet, who glanced up as he leaned forward, lowering head to hands.

Alright Captain, Lord Mahnet motioned to Garthe. What be your concern? You’ve acted like a pouting puppy all morning. Let’s have it out ‘fore you burst your stuffing.

What concerns me, Lord, Garthe said, looking up, is the motive behind your plans. Are you telling us your full plan, Sir? With all due respect, my Lord, you said we were coming to find trade. Now, we’ve been here for a month. We’ve got us a colony built, an army headquarters, if you will, and you’re speaking of sending six of me best men to scout the land beyond the plateau. You keep saying ‘tis for trade, but last time you said that we set out to over-take Lucine. Against me better judgment I might add, and, Garthe motioned to Treudlor, the truce officer and captain of the second ship in their fleet. We fell on that clan like a pack of hungry dogs.

Treudlor’s brown eyes met Garthe’s gaze. The weary man gave a curt nod before lowering his gaze back to the table. Treudlor had been forced into coalition with Lord Mahnet after his land had been overtaken. Lord Mahnet, acknowledging the man’s fairness, had made him a truce officer between the two lands. Treudlor was the only one in the room whom Garthe trusted.

Alright, Lord Mahnet said. He held-up his gloved hand. What are you saying Garthe?

What I am asking is to please be included in your full plan or I’m afraid I’ll not be needing this sigil of arms I wear upon me breast. Garthe pulled the badge from his tunic and tossed it on the table; it landed before Lord Mahnet. The older man picked it up and tossed it back.

Hold your tongue, Captain. You’ve made your point. As commander of me men I’ve certainly been less than honest with you. All of you! Lord Mahnet included the rest of the men with a nod. He rose from the chair, walked to the window, keeping his back to the men. We be in a changing world. The time has come for us to form a unity with as many lands as possible.

Treudlor stood; the force of his movement spilling the chair he sat in on its side. Unity? he spat. And this unity, how shall you propose to do it? The same way you imposed unity upon me beloved Lucine?

Treudlor! Must I remind you that you are a truce officer between our two lands. Lord Mahnet turned and faced the man opposing him.

Treudlor spat on the ground.

Truce Officer, come now Mahnet!

LORD Mahnet, I warn you.

Treudlor’s eyes sparkled with fire. He bowed to the red face of Lord Mahnet.

LORD Mahnet, he mimicked.

Garthe eased back in his seat; the tension in the room taut. He cleared his throat to bring the attention to himself.

’Tis a sensitive subject we be speaking on, gentlemen, he said. Let us not forget we are on the same side, especially here in a land we know nothing about. Garthe smiled at Treudlor. Sit down, Sir, the anger you feel is my fault. Had I not been so quick to accuse Lord Mahnet of withholding his plans from me none of these heated emotions would be flaring.

Treudlor held his stand and the stare of Lord Mahnet, who raised both hands in an appeal for peace. Treudlor hesitated, then righted the spilled chair and sat down. His shoulders slumped forward.

Lord Mahnet moved to Garthe and grabbed him by the shoulder.

You’re a good man, he said, and a wise one at that. I understand what your trying to get at with your words and let me reassure you, all of you, his cold eyes jumped from face to face, my plan is to unite with this land in a peaceful way and to find a trade we can take back with us. It is no secret that I plan to claim this tip of the land as Mahnet. But look around you men. Have you seen any life that forbids us from doing so?

The men looked at each other, shrugging, shaking heads, no attempt made to challenge him.

Well then. Why not bring our domain into this part of the land? If the rest be colonized then we shall allow them to continue their colonies while introducing a new way of life into their midst. They’ll be richer from it and so will we.

Mahnet clapped both hands on Garthe’s shoulders, tightening his grip.

The season of spring is all around us, and the time has come to send our scouts beyond the plateau and find out what lies out there, he nodded toward the window. But until your scouts return, Garthe, we shall continue to make plans towards a possible solidarity with the Lord of this land.

All heads but one nodded in agreement. Treudlor sat still.

I’ll give more consideration to your proposal, Treudlor, said Lord Mahnet. He gave a nod to Treudlor as the man looked-up, then turned to Garthe.

Today the men celebrate. I’ll announce the claiming of the land as Mahnet. We’ll have us a feast this night. At first light you send out your chosen scouts. That is all for now, so on your way, all of you. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the men.

Garthe walked down the dimly lit hall, past sentries, nodding to both, and out into the morning light. He heard someone call his name and turned to find Treudlor hurrying across the courtyard.

Treudlor, how can I be of service?

We need to talk, he whispered.

Certainly. Now?

In private.

Garthe followed Truedlor to an unoccupied part of the courtyard.

Mahnet’s not telling the truth, Treudlor said, taking hold of Garthe’s arm. He plans to over take this land and massacre anyone who stands in his way. You know that, man. No one has to say it, we all know it.

Sir, you best be watching what you say.

I speak the truth, and if you have any sense left in that head of yours, you’ll be waking up to the plans of that man. You trust him too much.

Garthe turned his back to Treudlor and looked at the desolate plains that stretched toward the plateau. Shades of tan faded into white. It was a barren land, given over to drought and loss of life.

Garthe, Treudlor whispered, for Goddess sake, man. What if these people worship Her? What then? The slaughter, just like me wife? Like your sister?

Sweet Jessica. Garthe’s mind reeled. It had been ten years since Garthe had helped Jessica go to Lucine, to the Women Sanctuary, and now…. his hand instinctually felt for the concealed figurine in his pocket. He turned to Treudlor and placed a gloved hand on the weary man’s shoulder, squeezing lightly.

Yes, we have both lost kin, but whose fault was it—I’m not quite sure, said Garthe.

Ah, you’re not that big a fool. You know whose fault it was. I be ashamed to stand here talking with you if you don’t know. Mahnet is right about one thing, the world is changing right under our noses. With a slight bow, Treudlor took his leave.

Garthe watched the man’s slumped-shouldered frame move across the courtyard and disappear around the side of a tent barrack. His hand moved to the sigil pinned on his tunic, his fingers traced the metal. He knew. All along he’d known whose fault the massacre was. He’d just never had the guts to really believe it. Well, he would not let that happen a second time. He’d see Lord Mahnet hanging by a rope before he’d let that man take the lives of innocent women and children again. That’s what this sigil meant to him: an honor pledge; a personal vendetta.

Laughter lifted Garthe’s attention to a crowd of men gathering outside the barracks. The day’s festivities were beginning. The land would be claimed and called Mahnet, and Lord Mahnet would elicit the men’s support by dulling their minds with ale and filling their bellies with roasting pig.

Aragon sat spinning the dagger in a circle on the wood table. Lord Mahnet stared at his nephew.

Alright, Aragon, he barked. Let’s have it. His nephew both pleased and annoyed him.

Aragon flattened his hand against the spinning blade, forcing the movement to an abrupt stop. He picked up the dagger and jabbed the blade into the wood.

Death to Treudlor! Aragon’s jet black eyes fixed on his uncle.

Humph, Lord Mahnet folded his arms across his chest, and sat back. Would you care to explain yourself, you foolish imp?

Aragon cringed at the belittlement. He pushed himself up and strode over to the edge of the table and sat.

Uncle, his voice had a slight whine to it, must you always speak to me as if I be a child? I am, after all, twenty turnings of the wheel and I’m beginning to resent your disrespect.

Lord Mahnet roared with laughter and pushed Aragon’s hip off the table.

Yes, Aragon. Respect is want you want, is it? Than earn it you dung-heap! He spat. The spittle landed at Aragon’s feet. Aaron turned to storm from the room. Lord Mahnet’s voice boomed. Aragon, sit down this minute. I’m not through with you yet. I said sit, man. You better do as I say or I’ll not think twice at seeing your arse plastered across the plain as food for any wilds creeping and crawling out there.

Anger flared from Aragon’s eyes. He jerked around, hands curling into fists. He would prove his worth to his uncle, gain respect, and then he’d take his dagger and grind it into that old man’s gut, twisting it until he was disemboweled. Then he would claim Lordship.

Death to Treudlor, his words squeezed through gritted teeth. You can’t trust him. He’ll turn on you when the true design of your plan becomes evident. He’ll turn on you and he’ll take that no good commander with him.

Lord Mahnet fingered his chin. He eyed Aragon.

Yes, Treudlor is not to be trusted. So, what are you proposing?

Let me take him. I’ll do it and no one will be the wiser. They’ll think he took off in an attempt to save the people from what he feels will happen to them. Everyone knows how he feels, that he’s sure your going to rape this land as you did his beloved, stinking Lucine. And then I’ll take Garthe!

Leave Garthe out of this, commanded Lord Mahnet, he slammed his hand on the table, enforcing his order. Lord Mahnet eyed the idiot standing before him. The boy had an idea though and maybe if he did rid his Board-of-Arms of Treudlor it would be easier to sway Garthe over to his plans. He needed Garthe. The men listened to Garthe. No, he couldn’t afford anything to happen to the commander of his men, but Treudlor? Treudlor was another story, he was useless and in the way. Treudlor was expendable.

When and how I want no details, he said, noticing with distaste how quickly a grin spread on his nephew’s face. And I warn you, if you be caught by anyone, this discussion never took place. Do you hear me?

Aragon