The Phantom Queen Awakes Read Online Free PDF Page A

his
life.
    Pwyll’s vision grew dark and then his body
weakened and he fell to his knees. He refused to make a sound, and
he valiantly tried to remain upright.
    The ground about the woman’s feet was a
tapestry of the rich red of his sacrifice.
    Pwyll swayed, and the goddess caught him
before his head hit the ground. She held him to her chest, and
muttered, “You poor boy. You poor, stupid boy. I guard your death.”
He died in her embrace, his last breath rattling against her
neck.
    The twin crows that had remained overhead
swooped down to land on her shoulders, their wings setting her
wispy hair fluttering like a battle flag. The crows pecked at his
eyes as Pwyll gazed blindly into the clear sky.
    “What a waste,” said the Morrigan. She
abandoned the body and rose to her full height, the crows flapping
to keep their balance. For a moment, three women stood by the
stream, before three crows rose into the air, flapping determinedly
away.
     
     
    ****
     
     
    Afterword
     
    I am drawn to the knotted darkness of the
Celtic Twilight. Fairy tales were never meant to be politically
correct; they were originally about the dangers leering in the
shadows beyond the glow of the hearth, at the bottom of a loch,
behind that smile with the too-sharp, too-white teeth. I like to
walk into those mossy shadows and bring back the stories lurking
there, armed with my word processor and a pure heart. As a
mythogynoclast, it is my destiny to bring back the histories of all
the old goddesses, including the Morrigan. You asked to see the
Phantom Queen awake after all. I didn’t promise you that she would
be a tame goddess.
     
     
    ****
     
     
    Biography
     
    Lynne Lumsden Green is just about to finish
her second degree and embark on a further academic adventure:
Honors. Her topic will be firmly based in the genre of the Fairy
Tale, but not the sweet and twee sort; she prefers the older
stories still rife with sex and blood. (And if you want to know
what a mythogynoclast is, go look it up.) This year saw her helping
judge the Aurealis Awards for the third time, and working as a
volunteer for the Reality Bites Literary Festival and Voices on the
Coast Festival. If you run into her, give her a big hug...she needs
all the support she can muster.
     
     
    ****
     
     
    Mari Ness
    Ravens

    She crawled along the roofs, harvesting black
feathers.
    The first raven had fallen from the sky at
dawn, crashing upon a rock in front of the tanner’s cottage. The
fall had cracked its skull, and it bled while the villagers stepped
around it. The second had fallen but an hour later, landing outside
of the small chapel, hand built by one of the monks, a chapel many
of the villagers still avoided. The third fell as the sun reached
its peak, landing on the crossroads at the village center. By late
afternoon, clouds of ravens fell from the sky, their feathers and
blood blanketing the three small streets. By midnight, each straw
roofed house was littered with ravens.
    The villagers shook their heads, and pretended
they did not know what this meant.
    Maire knew. But still, she gathered the
feathers, soaking her hands in blood. The others stayed beneath the
roofs with their children, their mouths forming prayers in a mingle
of languages.
     
    ****
     
    The first to die was a child, also at dawn.
Maire gathered feathers as she heard the cries of the mother; tried
to shut her ears against the father’s sobs. The monk emerged to
comfort them. They wrapped the child in rowan and rue, and sang the
old prayers over her.
    The second to die was an ancient man, in the
evening, clutching at his heart and then falling to the floor.
Fewer wails this time, and stronger songs. He was buried under the
light of stars, over the protests of the monk, who wanted to say
more prayers.
    The third was a young woman, just married, who
had never learned to bake decent bread.
    Three days passed.
    And then another raven fell.
     
    ****
     
    “ I’m going to the mound,” Maire
said to