no other.
She barely noticed when the procession reached the outer edges of the city, when the crowd itself fell away and they stepped from streets to paths, from between buildings into open space. The force of them followed her, pulsed in her veins, pooled between her thighs. She had no doubts, now, no need to prove herself. Only a need to fulfill her destined purpose.
She was the Bride, and she would bear this year's harvest in her belly.
The litter slowed, stopped, and eased gently to the ground. For the first time, Ninia saw the bed of fresh turned earth that she had so dreaded at dawn, sun warmed and gleaming a deep, rich, life-giving brown. She laughed at her own folly, the sound rich, bearing a power of its own, and stepped down, feeling the ground sink and steady beneath her steps.
"Come to me, Earth King!" she called, with a flirtatiousness in her voice she had never heard before. The ritual words were suddenly imbued with a force and meaning they had not carried when she learned them, drilled into her mind as if, at the appointed time, she might forget, as if they were not the most natural thing in the world. "Come to me, my husband! Come know your bride!"
Power gathered around her, invisible, powerful as a gale wind but gentle as the early spring breeze that caressed her bare skin. Ninia stood, arms outstretched, waiting, soaking in the weak warmth of the sun and the deeper, more certain heat that radiated from the ground and through the soles of her bare feet. Doubt nibbled at the edge of her mind as she waited, the four litter bearers shifting and murmuring off to the side, not quite forgotten.
Ruthlessly, Ninia pushed the doubts aside. He would come. She could feel him gathering himself, feel him in the fertile warmth of the turned earth she stood upon. Come to me , she thought, the words humming unspoken in her throat, pulsing through her body like the heat of desire. Come to me.
The air turned to stillness, while the sense of power grew, prickling the skin of her arms. An ox-length away, the ground shifted, as if disturbed by some small burrowing animal, then, with no further warning, the tilled soil fountained upward, a geyser of earth that solidified into a pillar, then into the rough shape of a man.
Ninia watched, unable to look away, her heart quickening. The rough shape took form before her eyes, broad and tall, dwarfing every man she had ever laid eyes upon. Rough dirt softened into flesh, a few shades lighter than the ground which formed it. Eyes blinked open in the perfectly-formed face, deep and verdant green. Vines erupted from his bare scalp, falling down his back in a wild cascade that the elaborate braids on her own head poorly echoed. Between his thighs, a root protruded, reshaping itself into erect flesh, while around it tiny tendrils drew and coiled into tight curls.
At last, no pillar of earth stood before her, but a man. Ninia's eyes drank him in, beautiful and proudly erect, brimming with life-giving power, fully human in appearance for all that he was often depicted as half-beast. There was nothing of humanity in his eyes or the force crackling the air around him, though, and she was distantly aware of the litter bearers retreating.
"Bride." The Earth King's voice was a rumble, deep as mountain stones shifting together. "Come to me. Know my bounty. Let us usher the harvest in."
Ninia had not been drilled in this part; it was too obvious to need speaking of. The god would come; she would lie in the bed of earth and submit herself to him. But something had awakened in her under the eyes of the worshipful city, something that stirred fully to life in the presence of the god. She laughed, arms still outflung, dried flowers rustling as they swayed in their carefully-crafted display.
"Catch me," she called, and danced nymph-footed across the ground. She was a mare teasing her stallion, a vixen daring her fox to the chase, the life-bearer to his life-bringer, and if a god could feel
She barely noticed when the procession reached the outer edges of the city, when the crowd itself fell away and they stepped from streets to paths, from between buildings into open space. The force of them followed her, pulsed in her veins, pooled between her thighs. She had no doubts, now, no need to prove herself. Only a need to fulfill her destined purpose.
She was the Bride, and she would bear this year's harvest in her belly.
The litter slowed, stopped, and eased gently to the ground. For the first time, Ninia saw the bed of fresh turned earth that she had so dreaded at dawn, sun warmed and gleaming a deep, rich, life-giving brown. She laughed at her own folly, the sound rich, bearing a power of its own, and stepped down, feeling the ground sink and steady beneath her steps.
"Come to me, Earth King!" she called, with a flirtatiousness in her voice she had never heard before. The ritual words were suddenly imbued with a force and meaning they had not carried when she learned them, drilled into her mind as if, at the appointed time, she might forget, as if they were not the most natural thing in the world. "Come to me, my husband! Come know your bride!"
Power gathered around her, invisible, powerful as a gale wind but gentle as the early spring breeze that caressed her bare skin. Ninia stood, arms outstretched, waiting, soaking in the weak warmth of the sun and the deeper, more certain heat that radiated from the ground and through the soles of her bare feet. Doubt nibbled at the edge of her mind as she waited, the four litter bearers shifting and murmuring off to the side, not quite forgotten.
Ruthlessly, Ninia pushed the doubts aside. He would come. She could feel him gathering himself, feel him in the fertile warmth of the turned earth she stood upon. Come to me , she thought, the words humming unspoken in her throat, pulsing through her body like the heat of desire. Come to me.
The air turned to stillness, while the sense of power grew, prickling the skin of her arms. An ox-length away, the ground shifted, as if disturbed by some small burrowing animal, then, with no further warning, the tilled soil fountained upward, a geyser of earth that solidified into a pillar, then into the rough shape of a man.
Ninia watched, unable to look away, her heart quickening. The rough shape took form before her eyes, broad and tall, dwarfing every man she had ever laid eyes upon. Rough dirt softened into flesh, a few shades lighter than the ground which formed it. Eyes blinked open in the perfectly-formed face, deep and verdant green. Vines erupted from his bare scalp, falling down his back in a wild cascade that the elaborate braids on her own head poorly echoed. Between his thighs, a root protruded, reshaping itself into erect flesh, while around it tiny tendrils drew and coiled into tight curls.
At last, no pillar of earth stood before her, but a man. Ninia's eyes drank him in, beautiful and proudly erect, brimming with life-giving power, fully human in appearance for all that he was often depicted as half-beast. There was nothing of humanity in his eyes or the force crackling the air around him, though, and she was distantly aware of the litter bearers retreating.
"Bride." The Earth King's voice was a rumble, deep as mountain stones shifting together. "Come to me. Know my bounty. Let us usher the harvest in."
Ninia had not been drilled in this part; it was too obvious to need speaking of. The god would come; she would lie in the bed of earth and submit herself to him. But something had awakened in her under the eyes of the worshipful city, something that stirred fully to life in the presence of the god. She laughed, arms still outflung, dried flowers rustling as they swayed in their carefully-crafted display.
"Catch me," she called, and danced nymph-footed across the ground. She was a mare teasing her stallion, a vixen daring her fox to the chase, the life-bearer to his life-bringer, and if a god could feel
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