The Phantom Queen Awakes by Mark S. Deniz

and backward. It
made her dizzy to watch it, so she looked instead at the
ground.
    “You are not known to us.”
    Lys raised her head at the sound of the voice.
She gasped at the creature in front of her. It seemed to shift in
and out of dense pockets of shadow that had formed within the fog.
First one face appeared and merged before changing into another.
One minute a proud young girl with a warrior’s grimace and fierce
eyes watched her, the next a motherly face stared out at her, less
fierce but no less proud. Finally, a dark-haired woman with black
brows and full lips looked her over.
    “Tell us your name,” she said.
    “Lys ab Gysell.”
    Was this the goddess the women had spoken of?
Curiosity warred with a feathery feeling in her stomach. Was she a
tree spirit? Or a guardian of the sea? Lys had yet to meet such a
being in human form. “May I know your name?”
    A hand reached out to lift Lys’ chin, much as
Uxía had done, and the woman barked out a short laugh. “Well met,
Lys ab Gysell. What would you call me?”
    Lys tried to think. Her people paid homage to
many deities who transcended tribal borders. “Are you one of the
Valkyrie that the northern folk speak of?”
    She frowned. “Some have called me that, but
without good reason. The women here call me Cathubodua. But it does
not matter. I have many names, and not all of them are favorable to
me.” The face changed to an ancient crone with watery eyes who
appeared to wash clothes in an invisible stream. She seemed to
watch Lys, although her eyes were unseeing. Lys shivered under the
gaze. The crone was frightening in ways that the warrior woman was
not. Lys felt as if she looked into the face of Death.
    “You look young and strong. You will bear many
healthy children,” she said in a wheezy voice. “What say you,
maiden?” Her cross expression puzzled Lys.
    “Are you angry with me, respected
mother?”
    “Impatient for answers. Time moves too slowly.
You move too slowly.”
    Lys did not want to vex her and hurried to
give answer. “Our family has strong women. We do not shrink from
hard work or the pain of giving birth.”
    The warrior woman returned, laughing. “That is
good. What goes in must come out. Iaun’s seed is as strong as his
thirst.”
    “What do you ask of me, then? How may I serve
you?” Lys bowed her head to wait for the goddess’
commands.
    “Ach, Lys ab Gysell.” She spat to the side as
if to frighten an enemy. “I would have you ask me for a boon. It is
your wedding and your right.”
    Shadows danced around her. First one face then
another flew in and out of focus. Finally, a motherly countenance
appeared. Lys saw the moon reflected in her eyes. She turned her
head, but could not find the light’s source. She exhaled in a
burst, unaware that she had held her breath.
    “I can think of nothing other than long life
for my husband and me and peace for our people,” she
said.
    The woman smiled then. “I can offer you
something else, a valuable gift for your folk and those of your
husband.”
    Lys grew suspicious. She knew from the tales
of the holy men that gifts from the gods were something to be wary
of. “What sort of gift?”
    “The ability to walk in Ande-dubnos .
You may also pass it on to your children.” Her beatific face
radiated joy; it was meant to be a face to trust.
    Lys knew better. “Do you mean the power to
cross into the Anderwelt ?”
    She nodded. “Yes, child. A better boon you
could not ask for. With this gift you may form the dreams of your
people to guide them. You can rule them as you see fit.”
    “That does sound like a queenly gift. What do
you ask from me in return?”
    “Only this,” the goddess beckoned her forward.
Lys approached and knelt, feeling that it was expected of her.
Hands touched her shoulders, a light touch. She felt long
fingernails scrape over her skin. The feeling was not
unpleasant.
    “To Lys ab Gysell, should she choose to walk
with me, I hereby grant the power over