Prologue:

Once upon a time, far away across the sea, there was a rich land. There were thick forests, green fields and silvery rivers. The soil was fertile and freely gave of its bounty to the people. The seas around the land were teeming with all kinds of fish. Gold, silver, copper and tin were readily available to be forged into beautiful jewelry and dangerous weapons. The residents of this favored land simply called themselves "The People." The People were farmers, fishermen, hunters, artisans and warriors. Like most peoples in their part of the world, they worshipped a pantheon of gods and goddesses. Each person in their society had a particular patron god or goddess that he or she would worship, based on his occupation or his needs at a particular time. However, each person would honor all the gods, to avoid falling into disfavor with them.

Then came the twilight time, when the Invaders came from across the Eastern Sea, bearing weapons of a superior strength that cleaved through the wooden shields and shattered the bronze swords of the People. Even worse, the Invaders brought a New Religion with them, with only One God, and anyone that they captured was required to convert to their religion or be slain on the spot. With their swords and crosses, their whips and fire, they tortured those who would stand against them. The remnants of the People were driven further and further west, until they came to the edge of the Western Sea and made their last stand. Those who fought there were cut down almost to the last man. Only one man escaped, a man named Clerigh, who hid in a thicket on the edge of the battle...

Equinox:

Clerigh, High Priest of the goddess Aine, was exhausted. His tunic and cloak were in tatters. His grey-shot hair was an unkempt bird's nest and his normally clean-shaven face was now covered in a ragged salt-and-pepper beard. He hadn't bathed in weeks. Life as a fugitive did not agree with him; it was difficult to forage for food and water with the Invader patrols scattered across the land like a pox. Clerigh had lost a lot of weight in the weeks since the last battle.

He crawled through the grass under the late afternoon sun, keeping low in case anyone was around to spot him, and slowly made his way to the center of a large circle of trees. It was a grove sacred to Aine, the goddess of love and fertility. Each year, on the night of the spring equinox, the sacred rituals were held here, to honor Aine and insure the fertility of both the people and the land. Clerigh scanned the nearby terrain, saw nobody around him, rose to his feet and walked to the north edge of the grove. Behind the trees was a rocky hill, rising perhaps twenty feet above the wood. Clerigh carefully crept up to the hill, looking for the concealed opening that he knew was there. He found it, barely wide enough for a man to squeeze through, and slithered into the cave beyond.

He waited a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the dim light coming through the crack behind him. Feeling his way forward, he found the area where torches were stored, as well as flints for lighting them. After several attempts, Clerigh finally managed to get the torch to light. The flame illuminated the small cave, showing him the items he sought: The stone Altar of Aine, and the carved oak statue of the goddess herself, which was a representation of a beautiful young maiden. Clerigh set his torch in one of the sconces on the wall of the cave, then started the process of pushing the Altar to the doorway of the cave. It was heavy and was normally moved by two people, but Clerigh no longer had anyone to assist him. He maneuvered the Altar to the doorway and pushed it through, then went back and got the statue of Aine. It was considerably lighter, and he got it through with much less effort.

Clerigh went back inside the cave and extinguished the torch, then emerged from the cave and picked up the Altar. He dragged it to the center of the grove, then went back to the mouth of the cave and picked up the statue of Aine. He carried it to the center of the grove and placed it on top of the Altar.

He thought back to happier days, before the Invaders came. Each spring, the people would journey here to this grove from all the surrounding villages for the sacred rituals of Aine. The highlight of the rituals would be when the High Priest would symbolically mate with the goddess to insure the fertility of both the land and the people. The goddess, of course, was not physically present, so a surrogate would have to take her place. Each year, all of the young virgin maidens who had become women in the previous year would draw lots, and the winner would receive the high honor of portraying the goddess. The people would gather in the grove at sunset, the pipers and drummers would play, and then the maiden-goddess would come, and lay down upon the ground. The High Priest would invoke the blessing of Aine. He then would pull up the maiden-goddess' dress, remove his trousers and ritually deflower the maiden before him. When he had done so, he would remove his penis from her and show the cheering assembly the blood of her maidenhead on his erection. Then, he would re-enter her and fornicate with her until he climaxed, symbolically sowing his seed into the goddess. Being the High Priest had certain perquisites.

On more than one occasion, the daughter of the High Priest had herself been chosen by lot to fulfill the role of the goddess. Ordinarily, it was highly taboo for any man to have sexual relations with his daughter, whether by blood or fosterage, but since it was believed that the goddess Aine herself was the one who decided whose lot was drawn, her choice was respected, taboo or no. A few years earlier, Clerigh's foster-daughter, Brighid, a maiden of thirteen summers, had been the one whose lot was chosen. She had been just starting to blossom into womanhood, and he loved her more than life itself. Still, his devotion to the goddess was absolute, and when the time had come, Brighid had fulfilled her role with honor. Clerigh had to admit that in his heart of hearts, he had been pleased with the way things had turned out. He had stood with Brighid's blood on his erect penis, showing her sacrifice of her virginity for the prosperity of the People. He had then made tender, passionate love to her as the crowd cheered him on, and then filled her womb to overflowing with his seed. She bore him a son nine months later. Now, they were dead or captured by the Invaders.

Clerigh's thoughts returned to the here and now. There were no maidens, none at all, for him to honor Aine with. There were no pipers and drummers, no cheering crowd. There was nothing except an empty grove, a smoldering land and a shattered people. Clearly the People had lost the favor of the gods.

He knelt down before the statue of Aine, closed his eyes and began to pray. He chanted the familiar invocation, asking for the blessing of Aine, just as the sun was starting to go down.

"Rise!" said a clear, bell-like voice. Clerigh's eyes flew open and he looked around, startled out of his wits.

The wooden statue of Aine was no longer on the Altar. Instead, there was a maiden standing atop the stone Altar, wearing only a dress of purest white. Her dark brown hair was braided into an intricate crown. Her face was serene, her mouth quirked into a sly smile. The body under the white dress was just budding into womanhood, with slim hips and small breasts. She looked to be around thirteen summers of age, but when Clerigh looked up into her face, he saw that her brown eyes were the oldest that he had ever seen.

"Rise, Clerigh," she said to him. He jumped to his feet, startled that this maiden knew his name. He already was having suspicions about who she might be. He threw himself on the ground in front of her, prostrating himself at her feet.

"I am not worthy!" he cried aloud.

"Stop that!" Aine told him. "Now get up, Clerigh. We have to talk and we don't have all night."

"What would You have of me, my goddess?" he asked in a trembling voice, rising again to his feet.

"Clerigh, what do you know of the gods?" she asked him patiently. "Never mind. Let me explain. You are the last of the People left free. The very last. The others all are dead or have converted to the New Religion. A goddess' power is measured by her worshippers. The more worshippers you have, the more powerful you are and the more things you can do. But what happens when you run out of worshippers? My brothers and sisters have found this out already. A god or goddess who has no worshippers fades away. They have no more worshippers and have left this world. I have one worshipper left, and very little power."