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"Why would your people do such a thing?" Medb asked.

"If we do not give it what it wants, it would destroy us all. Through her bravery and generosity, she protects us for an entire generation."

"I understand," she replied, and indeed she did. The people from her homeland of Erin had often made human sacrifices to appease their bloodthirsty gods, and with few exceptions they were like this girl: beautiful, unblemished, born and raised for this purpose alone, and, strangest of all, ready and willing to fulfill their appointed destiny.

Even so: "Why do you not fight it instead?"

The man hung his head in shame. "Because we are cowardly and weak. We have not had the strength to defend ourselves for as long as this curse has been upon us. When I was a boy, I remember that a hero came to us and offered to go and confront the Black Ram, but he failed, and it came and decimated our village, consuming many of our souls. If one who's strength and courage was far greater than ours could not prevail against this fiend, what hope have we?" And he buried his face in his hands, as if to hide from his shame.

Medb took pity on him then, and placed a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. "How long has this gone on?" she asked gently.

Dropping his hands, the old man replied, "Longer than anyone can remember." He paused to wipe his eyes, then added, "I remember tales of it told to me by my great-grandfather, who had heard them from his great-grandfather, who had heard them from his. We are an accursed people, and we have borne it for centuries, yet we still pray for our gods to rid us of this monster."

"Why?" she asked amazed. "It seems to me they have abandoned you."

For the first time the elder showed some defiance. "They have not abandon us!"

"How do you know this?"

"It may not be their will to remove this scourge from our lives, but they pity us and each generation send us one such as she," he indicated the girl, "that the rest of us may remain safe from the wicked grasp of this archfiend."

"And why would they do this if they refuse to deliver you?"

"Because we have remained faithful to them even in the face of this abomination."

"But what of her?"

"We . . . do not know, but all we can do is pray that our gods take her soul before the Black Ram can consume it." Distressed by this slim hope, the man once again buried his face in his hands.

Medb marveled at the simple, stubborn faith of these people, that it could survive, let alone flourish, under these circumstances, that it could still inspire hope of a miracle even after ten generations and longer. Among the people of Erin, the inability of any deity to save them from a fell supernatural force would be proof of that god's inferiority, and they would freely abandon it for another, hopefully stronger one. Though she knew the supernatural world was as real as the natural, she did not herself believe in gods, but still, the idea that any people would cling to them against all reason, especially those as uncaring or ineffectual as these gods seemed to be, defied her ability to comprehend it.

With her curiosity satisfied, she should have simply turned and walked away, leaving the people to their curse. Instead, she found herself saying something quite inexplicable:

"I will take her place."

The oldster lifted his head and gave her a stunned look. "Are you serious?" he asked in disbelief.

For a moment she wondered that herself, then she gave him a pointed stare with an enigmatic smile. "I would not have said it if I was not."

His face beamed as, for perhaps the first time in his life, hope filled his heart. "Are you a maiden?"

"I am," she lied.

Taking her by the arm, he pulled her towards the bride as he said, "Then we must hurry, before she passes through the gate."

Indeed, the girl was stepping up to the pillars when the elder called out for her to stop. She did and whirled around in surprise. The old man pulled Medb up to her, then turned to address the people. He told them of Medb's offer to go to the Black Ram in place of the girl, and then began arguing with a few of his neighbors who opposed it out of fear. But Medb paid no attention. Instead she examined the girl, who looked back at her with sea-gray eyes. Medb just now realized how young she truly was; she had just entered full womanhood, but still had the appearance and build of an adolescent. Yet for all that, her face displayed a calm strength Medb had seen in few adults. She was convinced that this girl was acting of her own free will, and that she would go to her fate willingly, with greater courage than even the most stalwart warrior.

The man eventually turned back towards the two women and said, "It is agreed; you may take her place if you truly wish it."

"I do," Medb announced, her voice raised so all present could hear her.

"I will not consent to this," the girl said. "As the chosen bride of the Black Ram, it is my right to give of myself for my people; no one else should be sacrificed for my sake."

"What is your name?" Medb asked.

Taken by surprise, she replied cautiously, "Íonait."

Medb nodded. "You are well named; your faithfulness to your village and your purity are self evident. But just as you are willing to surrender your life to save that of others, so am I willing to surrender mine to save yours. Besides, should I fail, you will yet have your turn. You have waited your whole life for this; surely you can wait a day longer."

The girl bowed her head then and acquiesced to the wishes of the massive woman. Satisfied, Medb proceeded to shed her cloak, belt, shoes, and gown. When she was naked, except for the ring of heavy twisted gold around her neck and the band of silvered bronze over her brow, Íonait removed her flower crown and silk shift and passed them to Medb, who put them on. The flimsy garment covered even less of her than it had Íonait, yet the sight of her muscular, voluptuous body elicited awe and fear rather than lust in those present.

She in turn laid her cloak over the girl's shoulders to protect her from the chill air. Then she bent and removed her dirk from its scabbard, gripping the hilt of the heavy, foot-long, dual-edged blade in a resolute manner with her right hand, and turned towards the gate. She saw that beyond it lay a trail covered with flagstones, that disappeared into the depths of the forest. Trees lined it on either side, like the support columns of a temple, and their crowns stretched over the path and merged to form a long domed ceiling.

Just before she stepped between the obelisks, the old man touched her on one elbow. When she looked back at him, he held out his necklace and ornament. "Please, take this with you; may it provide you with comfort and fortitude."

"I thank you," she replied as she took it and slipped it over her head. She noticed that the beads were made from rowan, while the ornament itself—a cross with S-curve arms inside the circumference of a circular frame—was made of iron.

The man then addressed her, saying, "May the gods bless you and give you strength; may they smile upon your sacrifice and rescue your soul from eternal torment at the hands of the Black Ram. And, if they so will it, may they remove our curse for your sake." He then made a sign before her. She bowed to him, then turned back towards the pair of obelisks. Behind her, she heard the villagers intone a hymn she knew all too well:

"Iä! Iä! Shub-Niggurath! The Black Goat of the Woods With the Thousand Young!"

They continued repeating that phrase for several seconds, as Medb waited for some signal to proceed. Finally, Íonait stepped up beside her, placed a hand on Medb's back between her shoulder blades, and urged her forward.

Medb stepped though the gate onto the path, and in the same instant the chanting ceased. Surprised, she stopped and spun around. Behind her the pillars and the forest's edge had disappeared. Instead, she saw the path stretch off through more trees to eventually disappear in the distance. She thought at first that perhaps the view had been obscured by some sort of illusion, but try as she might she could sense no glamour. The only other explanation was that somehow she had been transported deep within the forest. She speculated that it was to prevent the sacrifices from being able to escape back between the obelisks. She smiled grimly. If true, that precaution was unnecessary where she was concerned; she had no intention of leaving until she had accomplished her task.

In that same vein, it probably would not have made any difference which direction she went in, yet she deliberately turned back in the direction she had been facing when she walked through the gate. As she started down the path, she became aware that the forest was completely still. There was no movement: no breeze, or swaying of branches, or flitting of birds or small animals; nor was there any sound: no sigh of wind through the leaves, or birdsong, or the chatter of squirrels. It was so still she could hear her own breathing; the soft, muted padding of her feet against the stones; and the beat of her heart in her ears. It was as if all around her was the peace of death, and her lone life was an unwanted intrusion into the silent tableau.

In time, though, another sound did manifest itself, a weird, monotonous piping unlike anything that could be produced by human lips. It was weak at first, but it grew stronger by the moment, as if she was approaching its source. She could feel a magical compulsion in the music. It was nothing she could not resist, but she understood that someone who's will was weaker than hers would be drawn towards its source against her will.

Yet the atonal and alien rhythm nonetheless lulled her into a complacent state, because before she realized it she had entered a clearing. The flagstones of the path spread out from the entrance, covering the floor as they formed a patio. In the center stood a ring of rough native stone blocks. The piping ceased as soon as she walked onto the patio, but Medb realized that no further compulsion would probably now be necessary. Sure enough, when she looked behind herself, the path had disappeared and a solid wall of tree trunks now blocked off the entrance.

Smiling ferociously, she walked further into the clearing until she stood between two of the standing stones. Inside the circle sat an altar constructed of four stones: a flat table-stone set on a tripod of smaller blocks. Walking up to it, she found that its top came up to her hips. Nothing else was present, nor were there any other structures, yet she could sense the ring was saturated with magic. She felt the stones tapping into her body, drawing energy from it even as she could draw power directly from the earth. She also sensed the presence of a powerful outré force, one that fed upon the magic of this place, whose strength was as far beyond hers as a conflagration was beyond a candle. Suddenly, the true purpose for the sacrifices hit her like a physical blow. The magic stored in these stones, which nourished the outré force, was derived from the life-energy of the brides. Somehow it was drained from them and transferred into the ring, to be drawn off as needed to sustain whatever entity resided here, and being young, beautiful, unblemished maidens, the magic distilled from them was the most potent of all.

Then she became aware of a new presence, one she heard and smelled rather than felt. A snuffling accompanied by bleating growls grew steadily louder, as a stench like that of a battlefield after three days under a hot sun wafted into the stone ring. She turned towards the approaching sound, the dirk at the ready, before realized that whatever it was, it almost certainly could draw power from the stone ring even as the entity it served. Even were it no stronger than she, it would be nearly invincible, so that she could not hope to prevail against it by force of arms. Coming to a decision, she turned and placed the dirk on top of the altar, then removed the rosary and laid it over the weapon, before stepping around to where she could see the creature approach.

It stood in a gap between two of the stones, as if waiting for her. It was as tall and massive as she was, stood upright on its hind legs, and had the torso and arms of a man, but beyond that its resemblance to humanity ended. Its legs were those of a goat, complete with cloven hooves, and every inch of its armor-like hide was covered in short, fleecy, ash-gray fur. Its head was a nightmarish cross between a dragon and a ram, with three horns, one on each side that curled around in a complete circle and one in between them that curved in a high arc to the base of its neck. Its long snout was full of razor-sharp, serrated teeth, and as it gaped at her a long, sinuous tongue lolled out, dripping with saliva. Once she saw it, it strode towards her purposefully; between its legs a pendulous male appendage dangled, and as it came closer that organ swelled and stiffened until it stood out erect from its loins, leaving no doubt in her mind as to its intentions.

She made no move to evade or attack; instead she threw open her arms and declared as loudly as she could shout, "Íai! Íai! Siobnigurot! Reithe Dubh le Míle Caora!"

It halted when it heard her words, then threw back its head and pointed its snout to the sky as it shrieked a bleating roar, its arms bent upwards and its hands balled into fists. It then stared at her, its eyes glowing in pure carnal lust. For her part, she turned her back on it and walked up to the altar. She leaned over, braced her hands against the edge of the table stone, and spread her legs apart.

The Black Ram was upon her in an instant. It ripped the filmy shift from her body, then threw its arms around her chest, clutching her voluminous breasts in its hands, as it penetrated her. It began thrusting its hips against her ample backside as hard and as fast as it could manage, while it massaged her breasts in its hands. It braced its head against hers, cheek to jowl, and slavered her face, neck, and shoulders wetly with its tongue. As its frenzy increased, it gouged deep scratches out of the flesh of her bosom and stomach, and began biting her shoulders. Eventually, however, it reached the point where it could only concentrate all its effort on the act of intercourse itself, so it grasped her hips and held its head above hers, and simply abandoned itself to its monomaniacal drive.

Medb endured it all stoically; she had more important things to focus on. She wanted to discover if this was just some ritual preliminary to the actual sacrificial act. It didn't take her long to find out. She could feel her strength, her vitality, her very life-energy itself, being drained from her body, subtly at first, but soon more forcefully as the Ram's ardor grew. She understood that any normal woman would not realize what was happening to her right away; at best, she might assume she was merely getting tired. By the time she realized what was really going on, she would be too weak to resist it, and soon every dram of her soul would be drained into the stone ring. Medb was able to draw upon the power of the earth to replenish her life-energy, so she was in no danger, but it gave her an idea for how to beat the Black Ram at its own game. She then abandoned herself to the experience, relying upon the strength her body consumed to sustain her endurance.

The Black Ram continued its mindless copulation for a considerable time, as Medb moaned and shrieked in a mixture of ecstasy and agony. It tried to drain every last erg of energy from her body, but even its stamina and lust was no match for hers and when it could continue no longer, it climaxed explosively. She felt the hot spray of its juices inside her as her own body convulsed. She cried out involuntarily as the Black Ram bellowed its own relief. It then withdrew from her and stepped away.

That was when she pounced. Turning, she seized its arms and grappled with it. Because of the power she could absorb, her strength—which was normally quite prodigious—was increased ten-fold. Taken by surprise, the Black Ram resisted but was unable to break free before she tripped it and threw it onto its back. She fell with it on top of it, dislodging the crown of flowers, which fell onto its face. She straddled its hips as she pinned its arms behind its head, and impaled herself upon its still swollen organ. She then rode it without mercy, flooding it with as much energy as she could channel from the earth. The Black Ram kicked and struggled, roaring not only in frustrated rage but also fear. It seemed weaker after siphoning off so much of her life-energy, and now the more energy she force-fed it, the weaker its struggles seemed to get. It was reacting exactly like a warrior who had gorged himself on too much food and drink, and was becoming sluggish with satiation. Even so, her constant stimulation drove it to climax over and over again, as if it strove to sate her before she could engorged it.

Yet it sorely underestimated her libidinous appetite, which because of the power she had absorbed, like her strength had been increased ten-fold. She not only continued to copulate without pause, but also managed to steadily increase the tempo and force of her rhythm. By now the Ram was bleating in agony and terror, yet she did not stop. Its final climax came when it could take no more, but this time it did not fill her with ejaculate, but rather vomited up blood from its mouth and nostrils as its heart burst, spraying a crimson shower all over her face, chest, arms, stomach and thighs. The Black Ram then collapsed and lay still, its tongue lolling out of its gaping mouth as its eyes first dimmed, then clouded over.

Exhausted, she nearly collapsed as well; instead, she managed to hold herself erect by bracing her hands on its shoulders. She had just about reached her limit as well. Had the Black Ram been able to hold out just a short while longer, it might have been her heart that burst instead.

As she leaned over the dead being, panting, blood and sweat dripping off her face and body, trying to regain enough strength to stand, she gradually became aware of a slow, mocking clapping. Slowly, she leaned back until she was kneeling over the Black Ram's hips, then she stood and turned back towards the altar.

Sitting in the center of the table-stone was an appalling sight: a naked, ancient hag, with corpse-gray skin and long, stringy, ash-blue hair. Her oblong head terminated in a block-shaped face, dominated by a hooked nose and high, prominent cheekbones, a pointed chin, and stone-gray eyes. Her sagging, pendulant breasts were long enough to throw over her shoulders. She sat in a parody of the cross-legged posture, with the soles of her feet pressed together and her knees spread wide to expose her obscene, oversized vulva.

"Sighle na gCíoch," Medb whispered.

The hag grinned without mirth, exposing a great mouthful of needle teeth. "And I recognize you, Medb of the Friendly Thighs," she cackled. "You have certainly lived up to your reputation this day."

It was not until that moment that Medb fully realized just how much danger she was truly in. She had been expecting an avatar of Shub-Niggurath, but the being she now encountered was far worse. The Sighle was the black earth mother of Erin, venerated and feared by all the races that had inhabited the island, including the formidable Fomóraigh. Her worship had been brought to the island by the Heidhbernigh, descendents of the antediluvian Hyborian tribes, when they sought refuge in Erin from the numerous invasions that destroyed the Hyborian world. They named Her Uidíla, which became corrupted to Sighle in Erin and was itself a corruption of Her Hyborian name, Idyra. In their hymns they praised Her as the restless but bountiful Life-Giver, Mother, and Lover, but to the Ancients, who had named Her Yidhra, She was also known as the Dream-Witch, the Shrouder, and the Devourer.

Suddenly, everything snapped into focus. The actual nature of the "Black Ram" should have warned her, but she had been too concerned with beating it to perceive the clues. It resembled the real Black Ram, the male aspect of Shub-Niggurath, only superficially, yet it carried the combination of bestial traits that marked all of Yidhra's servitors. She had been one of the first forms of life to appear on the ancient Earth. She was immortal, but could only adapt to the changing global environment by consuming other creatures and absorbing their traits. Over the thousands of millions of years that followed, She had not only survived, but thrived, and grew powerful. Devouring intelligent creatures made Her intelligent, while their memories and talents gave Her knowledge and cunning beyond the grasp of any individual mortal. In time, She split herself into numerous independent beings, both to spread Her influence around the world and to absorb as great a variety of unique traits and as much knowledge as She could acquire. Many of these beings established cults among the various races that had appeared throughout time, for the fear and awe of those She had devoured, which She also absorbed, had convinced Her that She was a god. Such worshipers She did not consume outright, but rather merged with in a blasphemous ritual akin to physical mating, which still allowed Her to absorb some traits and knowledge along with some of their life-energy, but even as She became more like them, they became more like Her, until the taint of their association was visible in the form of the mark of bestial traits. Yet the worshipers served another, more important purpose. For Yidhra suffered from a strange curse: She had become so dependent upon the life-energy She absorbed that, whenever She was unable to acquire more, She fell into a strange state of dormancy, like a dreamless sleep.

The Sighle was one of Her avatars, and apparently She had discovered a means to keep Herself awake and aware in the absence of worshippers or new victims to consume, by absorbing the life-energy drained from the sacrificial virgins. To hide Her true nature, She impersonated Shub-Niggurath by creating a counterfeit Black Ram, to demand sacrifice and so harvest the life-energy. Had the villagers known who She really was, they could have escaped Her by simply leaving the vicinity of her forest, but they could never have escaped the real Black Ram, hence the ruse. The destruction of Her servitor now threatened Her continued existence, but the same fickle trick of fate had also presented Her with an unprecedented opportunity. If She could consumed Medb, She would absorb the massive woman's ability to drink power from the earth, and thus become truly invulnerable. And as Medb looked into Her eyes, she understood that the Sighle had realized this as well.

Medb glanced at the dirk, where it still lay on the tablestone just in front of the Sighle, the rosary still draped over it. It was too far away for her to reach, but she might be able to jump for it, if she could reach it before the Sighle could react. For Her part, the Sighle cackled and said, "Yes, you would like to have your weapon, would you not? Well, come then; try to take it, if you can." And She grinned Her crocodile's grin again.

Medb knew she had little choice but to fight. The Sighle would seize her if she tried to run, and there was no spell that could harm Her. Of course, fighting had no better chance of success, but at least she would go down as a warrior and not a coward. As such, the Sighle had barely finished speaking when Medb leapt forward. She moved more quickly than the eye could follow, but in the same instant the Sighle reached under Her legs, grasped either side of Her vulva, and pulled it wide open, as a mass of tentacles, like huge, wriggling worms, exploded out of the opening. They engulfed Medb even as she reached the knife, lifting her off her feet as they entwined around her limbs, body, neck, and finally her head. Frantically she grasped for the weapon before she was lifted out of reach, but she caught the rosary by mistake. She grabbed it out of reflex before she realized what she had, but by then it was too late. The tentacles wrapped her completely, like the windings of a mummy, leaving only her hands, feet, hair, and eyes exposed. A fat tentacle penetrated her vagina and pushed up into her womb, as another forced its way into her anus and deeper into her gut. Several pried her mouth open as a third pushed its way in and down her throat. All the while the Sighle screamed a wild, mocking, mad laugh.

With no other weapon available, Medb began beating the tentacles with the rosary, but she was held so firmly she could only move her hand at the wrist, so her blows were pathetically feeble. Then, as she watched in horror, the Sighle pulled Her vulva open wider and the tentacles began to retract, pulling her towards it. The tentacles also turned and lowered her so that they would pull her in feet-first, in a monstrous reversed parody of birth. Desperate, Medb summoned all her strength and managed to swing the rosary more strongly, yet she was still unable to hurt her target, until her feet began to disappear into the vulva. At that moment, she accidentally hit the Sighle across the face with the twisted cross.

It was only a glancing blow, but the Sighle screamed as if mortally wounded and let go of Her vulva to clasp Her face. The tentacles lost most of the their strength then, and Medb lashed out, striking the avatar again and again on the head and shoulders and across the neck and chest. The Sighle tried to fend off the blows, but cried out just as loudly when the iron ornament hit Her arms. She tried to grab hold of the rosary, but shrieked in agony when She touched the wooden beads. All the while the tentacles steadily lost their grip. Medb paused long enough to pull the large ones out of her mouth, anus, and vagina, then began flailing the Sighle in earnest.

The tentacles released her suddenly, dropping her onto her backside on the tablestone, and snapped back inside the vulva. The Sighle then rolled over onto Her stomach and tried to crawl away, whimpering in pain. Medb was stunned for a moment; then she got her feet under her and threw herself on top of the Sighle. She pushed the avatar's face down onto the rock as she rose to a kneeling position, then she planted one knee in the middle of Her back to hold Her in place as she wrapped the necklace of the rosary around Her neck. Twisting it twice around to close it off, she then pulled as hard as she could, lifting the Sighle's head and bending Her back against her knee as she garroted Her. The Sighle clawed at the wooden beads and kicked and struggled weakly, but Medb's grip was unbreakable, and in moments the avatar went still. Still, Medb continued strangling Her for many seconds more, until she felt the life within Her extinguished.

Relaxing her grip, she collapsed, exhausted, onto her back beside the body, which was already beginning to decompose. Even as she watch, panting, the body dissolved into a pool of gooey corruption, that then thickened, curdled, and finally congealed into a stinking sludge. Disgusted, Medb rolled over onto her hands and knees and crawled to the edge of the stone. She then sat on the edge, dangling her feet, as her strength replenished itself. Glancing back over her shoulder, she looked for the rosary, but could not find it. Most likely, she thought, it had been dissolved by the same corruption that claimed the avatar's body. She chuckled then, as her nervous tension released itself. She should have thought of it sooner. Cold iron and the wood of the rowan tree were the strongest protections against fell supernatural forces, even such ancient and powerful entities as Yidhra.

When she at last recovered enough to make her departure, she slipped down off the tablestone and retrieved her dirk. The filmy dress was too badly torn and fouled to wear, so she abandoned it. When the avatar was destroyed, Her control over the forest vanished, and Medb had no problem finding the path. Nor did she walk for long before she spied the twin pillars framing the exit onto the field. As she stepped through, she found that all the villagers had left, except for Íonait, who stood in front the gate waiting for her, still wearing her cloak.

The two women said nothing, until Medb came to within six feet of the other. She stood there for a minute, gazing into the girl's mist-gray eyes. Finally she said, "Sighle na gCíoch is dead. Your village is free of her curse."

Íonait smiled, a gesture both happy and sensuous. "My people will be most grateful. They do not possess much, but all they have is yours, and they will reward you as generously as they are able." She then lifted Medb's cloak over her head and dropped it behind her.

Stepping close to the former queen she continued, "All I possess is my body, but I offer it to you, now, as my personal payment for saving my life." Then, seemingly unconcerned over the gore that covered Medb's body, she pressed herself against the massive woman, folded her arms around her neck, and stretched up to kiss her.

Medb bent her head down to meet the girl's lips halfway. As they began to probe each other with their tongues, Medb brought the dirk from behind her back and stabbed it into the other woman's abdomen, deep enough to sever the renal arteries.

Íonait shuddered and pulled away, the tentacle that substituted for Her tongue thrashing about wildly. She didn't speak, but the look of surprise in Her eyes asked the obvious question, how did you know?!

Grasping Her by the throat as she pulled out the heavy-bladed knife, Medb replied, "You could not know the correct identity of the being at the circle unless you were one with her." She then thrust again, higher up, through the liver to sever the aorta.

"Besides," she added, as the avatar gurgled defiantly, "the villagers could never have produce a child such as yourself, unless the Sighle directed the conception." She then withdrew the blade and stabbed again, this time up under the ribcage into the heart.

As Íonait's eyes clouded over, as Her life flowed away with Her blood, Medb concluded, "You have been draining the life-energy from the villagers all these years, collecting it to deliver to the Sighle so that she may survive for another generation. That ends now." She grasped the hair as the body slumped, and when she held it suspended, she swung the blade and severed it in one clean slice; she then turned and, swinging it by the hair, threw it as far into the forest as she could. She stayed to watch the body dissolve as the Sighle's had done, just to make sure. She then collected her clothes, cloak, and remaining weapons, and walked down the gentle slope towards the village. She did hope Íonait was right about the villager's generosity; she was hungry and badly in need of a bath, though for once she wouldn't need any sex.