Free Medea by Kerry Greenwood Page A

river, the sky lowers and herdsmen bring in their flock, was as astonishing as her size.
    'She is unique,' said Trioda softly, as the guardian drank delicately, flicking her grey tongue into the milk. 'There is no other serpent in the land of Colchis. She has grown, daughter, since last I saw her - yes, see? She has lately cast her skin.'
    Hanging in rags between two close-grown holly trees was the serpent's cast cloak; complete, even to the scales over the eyes.
    'Walk slowly, daughter, gather that skin, and bring it to me,' said my mistress, and I did as I was bid. The skin was dry, thicker than papyrus, and very light.
    'Strip and don the skin, daughter,' ordered Trioda, and I did so. Against my own human skin the scales of Ophis dragged and scratched, like the glass paper which craftsmen use to burnish bronze. Yet it was smooth over my breasts and so cold that all my nerves flared, and I flushed and then shivered. I was desperately afraid.
    But I was a priestess of Hekate, and she would protect me.
    If I was worthy.
    It was darkening in the grove. Outside the moon would be rising, Selene, who is also a maiden. Trioda ordered me to lie down. Then my mistress knelt, very slowly, and thrust something against my mouth. It was alive, no more than a handful, and it was clammy and squirming. I knew what it was. A toad, companion of Hekate, a sacred creature. I forced myself to kiss its slimy back. My lips numbed instantly. I felt something very strange beginning to happen to me.
    Ophis' discarded covering, which had been cold, warmed into life, wrapping me as securely as my own skin. The chill receded, and the fear grew. I felt the snakeskin curl and enfold me, so that my limbs were confined and then forgotten. For a moment, I rolled helplessly on the leaves. Then I found the muscles and nerves of Ophis. I moved as Ophis moved, by shifting my scales. I saw as she saw, through the strange lidless eyes which know no night.
    The ilex grove reddened to blood, against which a bright figure glowed; Trioda the priestess of Hekate, burning brighter than a hearth-fire. Little lights moved on the ground, and I leaned forward, counterbalancing my weight with my tail, flicking my tongue to taste the air, which was full, not of scents but of vibrations. The world sang.
    In Ophis' ears we all had our own tone, our blood hummed through our veins, and our life felt warm or cold in the air. The toad which Trioda held burned cool, dependent on the temperature of the air; a greenish glow. In the branches of the trees were the points of light which were roosting birds. They were golden.
    Then there was the bulk of the great serpent herself, turning to regard me. Ophis was a column of white fire, so hot I could hardly bear to look at her, and I could not close my serpent's eyes. I heard her shift over the crackling leaves, and her tongue flicked out at me, tasting my breath. I could not speak while in serpent form, but in my mind I chanted the invocation to the Goddess for protection, as a weight passed over my body, a monstrous weight. There was an instant of blind terror, then she twined herself around me.
    Sweet, sweet! The touch of scale on scale thrilled through my nerves. The clasp was strong but not crushing, her touch was delicate and soft as water. She slid and I twined myself around her, and I burned too, as bright as the great serpent. I would have cried for joy but I had no tears. The inexorable embrace melted us together, one body, serpent and priestess.
    This was the mystery of the grove, which Trioda had brought me to experience, and it was cruelly sweet. I wanted to lie with Ophis forever, on flesh, all skin, but then I was blinded by a starburst, and became Medea again, lying on the dead leaves, slick with sweat and weeping because the joy had departed, leaving me shaking and vomiting into the thorns.
    Ophis withdrew from me. I heard her overturn the empty milk-pot and slither away to the other side of the grove, deeper into