Hades’ Daughter. Book One of the Troy Game by Sara Douglass

The Mothers were silent. They had never seen anything like it—nor had they ever thought to see anything like it. How did this pile of stone—this artifice—protect and nurture the land’ ?

‘This city itself will be the magic,” Genvissa said, seeing the expressions in the women’s eyes. “It will

be as a talisman to us, protecting us for an eternity against all evil and ill favor, and using an ancient magic called the Game.”

‘Tell us of this ‘Game,’ ” Erith said.

Genvissa cast a glance Erith’s way, but was satisfied by the curiosity she saw there. “The Game is used at the foundation of new cities, played first when the initial course of the city walls are laid down, then again when the walls have risen to their full height and are gated. It is a powerful spell-weaving that binds the city to this land as its protector, but,” she stressed, as a few Mothers murmured again, “its most potent benefit is that it attracts and then traps all evil besieging a country. Who can deny that evil and blight spreads over this land and through our families?”

Genvissa paused, and when she resumed her voice was low but powerful. “The Game will absorb that evil, trap it, and the blight that has plagued us will vanish as if it had never been. Llangarlia will be strong again, stronger than previously.”

‘How does it work?” asked a Mother called Lilleth.

Genvissa smiled. She knew she would have them with this next. “It is danced,” she said, watching delighted surprise light up many faces. “A labyrinthine dance, very much like Mother Mag’s Nuptial Dance, that uses the power of the male and the female to bind and empower the spell-weaving. There are two dances, the first is performed when the foundations of the city walls are laid, and this is called the Dance of the Torches. This first dance raises the evil and blight from the land and traps it in the labyrinthine enchantment of the Game. Then, when the walls are completed, comes the second and last dance, the Dance of the Flowers, and this will trap the evil forever by erecting a gate of great beauty and sorcery at the entrance to the labyrinth.”

‘And who will dance?” cried one of the Mothers.

‘Myself, and Brutus,” said Genvissa. “I need a strong partner”—she looked sadly to Aerne, who, humiliated, turned his face aside—”who can withstand the forces of evil the Game shall attract.

‘Brutus, the Kingman of the Game, and I will be the male and female force that weaves the Game and ties it to this land. Mothers, I know you distrust strangers, but within a few generations we will all merge into the one people. Look how easily I and my foremothers assimilated into your society!”

Ecub opened her mouth to say something, and Erith clamped a hand on the woman’s arm and sent her a warning glance.

‘The Trojans are our only hope,” Aerne said. “They are the only thing that stands between us and total annihilation. If we refuse them entry, if we turn them away, then we risk two fates. One, the Trojans will not accept our denial, and will attack us as enemies, seizing our land. Second, even worse, is that they will sail away, taking their magic with them, and our grandchildren or great-grandchildren will suffer and die under the swords of the blue-faced invaders. Without them, Llangarlia is doomed. With them, it will survive into glory.”

Aerne and Genvissa continued to speak, arguing persuasively that the Mothers needed to make this great step for the future of their peoples. It was a difficult decision, it was a decision that went against everything they’d ever thought right and proper, but it was the decision they must make, and it was a decision that they, the Gormagog and the MagaLlan, knew the Mothers were courageous enough to make.

‘Do you think that this has been easy for me?” Aerne said. “First watching as the Blangan Darkwitch stripped me of my power, and then as Og failed into death? Watching this land succumb to blight and pain and knowing there was nothing I could do about it? You cannot imagine what a bitter blow it has been to me that my long struggle to ease Llangarlia’s plight has been in vain; what a bitter blow it is that now I say to you that I, and Og, are useless. Accept this Trojan magic, accept their Game and their Kingman, or die.”

It was enough.

When Genvissa asked if there were any dissenting voices, the Mothers gave her only silence.

* * * “THEY CAPITULATED?” LOTH SAID, HIS EYES BLAZING.

‘Aye,” said Mais.

‘And you added their voices to theirs?” Loth said, looking at Mais, Ecub, and Erith individually.

‘We had little choice, Loth,” said Erith. Then at his frown, she continued. “If we had spoken out we would have been dead by dawn. As it is, Genvissa will undoubtedly suspect us.”

They were standing on the northern bank of the Llan, slightly to the east of the White Mount. It was deep night, long after the Mothers had agreed in Assembly to MagaLlan and the Gormagog’s plan to allow the Trojans to not only settle within Llangarlia, but to allow them to build over three of their sacred hills. Ecub, Erith, and Mais had been circumspect in meeting Loth, leaving it until late at night when most others were well in bed and gathering in sleep the strength they would need for tomorrow’s Slaughter Festival.

‘She may not be confronted directly, Loth,” Erith continued. “You must know that.”

He snarled, more in frustration than anger, and turned away.

‘What is this Trojan magic Genvissa speaks of?” Loth eventually said over his shoulder. “What is this

‘Game’?”

They told him what they knew, and at the end of it Loth was even unhap-pier.

‘Evil? This Game will attract and then trap evil? What if it goes awry? What if it attracts… but doesn’t trap? I do not like this!”

Erith shrugged. “The Game will take the evil from this land, Loth. No Mother was going to argue against any means of doing that.”

‘Not even you,” Loth said bitterly.

‘What do you want , Loth?” Erith said, her nerves strung so taut that she was prepared to confront a man she normally only showed total deference to. “For Mag’s and Og’s dear sakes, what do you want?”

‘I want this land to shake off the Darkwitch’s power! I want this land to lie blessed under the benefice of Og and Mag, our Father and Mother, not some stone monstrosity that sits atop trapped evil! Is that so wrong, Erith? Is that so damned, cursed wrong?”

She hung her head, and it was Ecub who spoke next.

‘She has taunted you with having no weapon, Loth. There is nothing left with which to fight her, not you, not your dying father, not even Mag, who none of us can touch anymore. The Mothers have agreed, the Game will be played. There is no weapon we can use against Genvissa.”

Loth was silent, then he looked up, his green eyes alight. “Yes, there is!”

‘Cornelia,” said Erith.

‘Yes!” said Loth. “Cornelia is the weapon. I don’t know how, or why, but even Genvissa is instinctively afraid of her as I am instinctively drawn to her. Cornelia is the weapon. All we need to do is learn how to wield her.”

‘What can we do?” Erith said.

He grinned. “Tomorrow is the Slaughter Festival,” he said. “There will be power about, as weak as it might be. I will ask Coel to bring Cornelia to the summit of Pen, but I will need you there as well.”

‘We will be there,” Erith said.

ecevejxiHEY AGREED,” GENVISSA TOLD BRUTUS AS SOON as she met him at her house that evening, and he visibly relaxed.

‘Good,” he said. “Tomorrow I can send Corineus south to arrange the passage of the rest of my people north.” He’d chuckled at that. “I hope they have not settled in too happily while waiting for word from me.”

Genvissa smiled, content at the light in his eyes, and, taking him by the hand, led him into her house.

Now Brutus sat with Genvissa by the fire, replete with the tasty meal her three daughters had prepared for their mother and Brutus.

‘They are lovely girls, Genvissa,” Brutus said, watching lazily as the three girls sat gossiping and laughing over their spindles at the far end of Genvissa’s house.

Genvissa smiled, and leaned against Brutus. Apart from her daughters, she and Brutus were alone: Aerne, ill and weak, had elected to stay at one of the houses in Llanbank.

For the moment, almost dozing with the effects of the meal, Brutus was content to watch the girls. He almost grinned, remembering the performance they’d put on in the serving of the food. The three girls had been all wit and smiles and (perhaps) unconsciously provocative movements as they laid dishes before him. In feature they looked much like Genvissa herself, save that they were slightly shorter, and much slimmer and more girlish.