~ Juno Lucina ~

by

Mandy Hager

Wind-cowed pine trees sprinkled the rugged landscape, the nightmare silhouettes of kid’s cartoons. She followed the track up the hill, head jerking towards each faint sound. Her eyes scanned gloomy mounds, fear of the dark never quite exorcised from childhood. The climb steepened. Halfway up, her foot slipped. She threw herself forward to avoid damaging the camera gear, the tripod jabbing into the back of her head as she thudded down into the lupin. The acrid smell of crushed plant-life mingled with the burning sting of knees and elbows. Tears of self-pity ripened in her eyes.

As she brushed off the dirt, voices--disconnected and haunting--wafted down the hill. Thud-thud, thud-thud--her pulse pounding in her ears. The rhythm of a chant seeping into her, matching its beat with her own.

She reached the crest of the hill. Perched above the crashing swell of the sea, the Cook Strait an infinity of water. And above, the moon. Huge and fierce. Spotlight for the stage below.

There they stood on a grassy plateau. Six or seven...no, eight figures circling the feeble flicker of a candle. The tops of their heads shimmering in the unearthly starkness of the moonlight.

Tess dropped to the ground, grazes smarting, and crabbed gingerly towards a stand of manuka--to burrow amongst the scratchy branches. Shouldn’t be here.

The women stomped around the candle, their voices loud and powerful. "She shines for all. She flows through all."

She eased the camera from the duffel bag and attached the lens. The 600mm. Perfect for capturing their faces, even at night. She’d used the lens before, many times. But never like this. Never to--spy.

She checked over her shoulder, insecure beneath the floodlit sky. The camera, steadied on a branch, punched through the foliage like a sniper. With each click of the shutter, her unease compounded. Shouldn’t be here.

They weren’t the misfits she’d expected. Quite ordinary, really. Bank queue faces; school market-day faces. Not young. Not too unlike herself, if she ignored the smattering of ethnic skirts. But there was something in their faces that she knew her own lacked. A strength. A certainty.

They paused, evenly spaced around the unwavering candle. How was that? Had the wind dropped? She could see the round stones at their feet, markers for the sacred circle. Water stirred far below, whispering secrets.

The tall woman moved to the center of the group, turned towards the rocky entrance of the harbor, and brandished something high above her head. "Hail, Guardians of the East, Powers of Air! We invoke you and call you. Come! By the sweet air that is Her breath, by the raging winds of your Soul, send forth your light, your flow. Be here now!"

As she spoke, she drew a shape in the air--a star that flashed silver from the instrument in her hand. "Hail, Guardians of the North, Powers of Earth, Most Powerful of All…" The words calling, imploring the powers to rise and seek them out.

Tess hunched closer to the ground, the air so charged that any moment the trees must explode in revealing, shameful flames. The words of the chant bored into her consciousness. Tiny hairs rose in spiked protection.

"...by the earth that is her body, Send forth your strength, Be here now!"

Arm outstretched, the woman pointed the silver object toward each of the group in turn. Her arm swung in Tess’s direction. Did she pause? Had the silver object seen, and acknowledged, her presence? One by one, the women joined hands, linking the circle together.

"The circle is cast. We are between the worlds. Beyond the bounds of time where night and day, birth and death, Joy and Sorrow, meet as one."

As one, they lifted their faces to the moon and called: "We who look on her shining face are filled with love."

Tess released a painful breath, unaware she’d been holding it. Her fingers ached, and the camera fell into her lap. She slumped back and stared through the branches, into the face of the moon. Intense light rippled from its center into the dark pool of sky. She closed her eyes, but the image of the moon remained--a burning white ember that branded her cheeks and inflamed her body. Ah yes. This moon. The moon who kept her safe from the wolf.

Such an overwhelming sense of calm. Relief so vast, it formed like a warm sob in her chest.

Heightened buzzing drove her upright, just as a new member approached the circle. In her arms a bundle. A shrill, wailing bundle. Hands unlinked to let the pair inside. The tall leader raised her arms, the glistening shape held high above her head. Tess lifted the camera and adjusted the lens, focusing in.

Christ! No! It was clear now, that shape. A knife.

The knife was plunging, plunging. Tess scrabbled to her feet, sharp branches clawing at her cheeks, her hair. Pounding heart threatening to explode her head. Hearing the excited, rising pitch of women’s voices. Bloodthirsty women who... Through the pounding haze she saw it. Saw the knife move past the baby. Dig deep into the earth at the woman’s feet.

"Goddess of Life, instill in this child the force which created this glorious universe. Protect her life, to maintain her in the incarnation. Blessed be!"

A blessing, that’s all. Not a sacrifice. Tess slumped onto the hard ground, realizing too late that her camera lay in the carnage of leaves and broken twigs. The flap sprung open, uncoiled film glistening in the moonlight. How could she have been so stupid? She rolled onto her back, staring up at the moon, relief draining her. "Forgive me," she whispered.

~ * ~