Call of the Goddess: A Bona Dea Novel (Stormflies Book 1) (3 page)

“I'm not really certain what to tell you,” Axandra admitted, cautious of revealing anything. Her pace slowed. She felt exhausted from her exertions. If her head would quiet down, she thought she might be able to get some sleep. Even now, hints of voices echoed in the space between her ears. “I'm very tired. I don't feel like myself.”

“When did Jon start acting so strange?” Lilsa prompted. “Usually he's fawning over you, ready to respond to your every whim? Today he just abandoned you in the street.”

“A couple of nights ago,” Axandra replied honestly. She remembered it too clearly, the spooked look on his face when she laid her hand upon his cheek. “It's my fault.”

“Your fault?” Lilsa asked, abashed.

Axandra nodded. Her eyes followed the ground in front of her, concentrating on counting the dark pebbles along the way, hoping the exercise would clear her mind. “I've changed.”

“People don't change overnight,” her friend rebuked. Lilsa bent to grab a stone from the side of the road, the black surface scratched from decades of treading.

“I can't explain it, but I know Jon doesn't want to be with me anymore.”

“Sounds like he's the one who's changed,” Lilsa insisted. She was not willing to let her dear friend take the blame for the fouled relationship.

“Lilsa, you've been a very good friend to me,” Axandra said gratefully. “I hope I've been the same to you.”

Her companion stopped her, reaching for her hand and holding it tightly, a gesture reserved for the most intimate of friends. “Of course you have. And I will always be your friend, no matter what happens.”

Yet, even as Lilsa said this, the expression on her face changed. Her charming smile fell away and was replaced with a perplexed wrinkle of her high forehead. She reached out with one hand to touch Axandra's face. “You do feel different.”

Lilsa's mind seeped into hers like water through the seams. Her pink lips quivered. “You're in pain. Someone is hurting you.”
Why is someone hurting you?

Lights flashed in Axandra's eyes, and she sensed the Goddess reaching out to Lilsa with hurtful intentions.

Shaking her head, Axandra shrank away from her friend's touch and stifled the Goddess, at the same time wresting her hand free. “Stop! Don't! You sh-should go.”

Axandra turned and dashed over the impacted ground, leaving Lilsa where she stood. Her friend did not follow.

First Jon. Now Lilsa. Axandra didn't want to scare anyone, but she did not have control over the power the creature possessed, nor control over the flashes in her mind of memories both hers and not. The noise in her head pained her. Stopping her ears with her fingers, she continued up the road, not looking back.

Before she realized what she was doing, she packed a travel bag with a few of her belongings—clothes, shoes, a couple of books and a necklace Jon had given her as a token of affection when they first began their romantic relationship.

The half-packed bag rested upon the mattress. She paused in her work and stared at it, confused that she felt an undeniable urge to flee her home. The compulsion was so strong, she continued packing even as she tried to restrain herself. Her body continued to act in ways her mind did not wish.

Her hands, moving independently, closed the packed bag and lifted the strap. Forcing herself to stop the progression, Axandra suddenly understood why she yearned to leave.

The Goddess wanted to return to Undun City. The creature belonged to that city, with its host standing in a position of power before the people as it had for centuries. Images of the stone city impressed upon her eyes, red granite buildings with terracotta shingles, a hill topped with a large white structure like a fortress. The spirit pulled her back there.

I don't want to go. This is my home!

Her body jerked, her resistance limiting the forced movements. The being forced her to pull the strap of the bag to her shoulder. The weight dragged her down so that her feet scooted across the floor, the soles of her sandals scraping the wooden planks. With a surge of force, her feet propelled her to the outer door. Throwing her arms out stiffly, she blocked her own exit.

No! You cannot control me!
Even as she thought to it, her brain became saturated with more images. Ocean waters lapping at the hull of a ship. The wind whipping her hair and dress. Roads. Bumping over gravel and brick. The Palace, brightly lit by the afternoon suns.

Voices swelled in her ears.
We must come to a resolution soon. The people are already growing restless to know who will act as Protectress. (But there is no one else.) There must be someone—

“Stop!” Axandra screamed aloud, raising her hands to her ears. Unsteady on her feet, she felt her spine meet the door frame as she stumbled. The heavy pack caught up in gravity and dropped like a stone in the sea.
Please stop! You're hurting me!

The Palace stayed in her mind, as though the creature said,
Go there. We belong there.
The pressure of the image felt as though the building itself sat upon her chest.

With tears, Axandra conceded to go. “All right. I'll take us to Undun City. But why would they believe me?” she asked it. Worn down from the fight, she slid to the ground, her head to knees. “They think I'm dead.”

A face fixed before her eyes, an old man, very pale with a full head of silver hair cut short. He possessed a round, bulbous nose pock-marked with scars. Red patches of capillaries dotted his pasty complexion. The likeness evoked a sense of familiarity in her. He was a Prophet. She did not remember his name. She long ago banished those people and their identities from her memory.

Without conscious movement, she stepped over to the writing desk and retrieved a few sheets of paper and a pen bloated with indigo ink. Her hand scripted a letter to the Head of Council. Her eyes watched her cursive script on the paper, but she did not compose the letter herself. She didn't even know what it was going to say until she read each word that appeared. Her fingers folded the letter and sealed it with a dab of sticky from the bowl on the desk. After addressing the outside, she slipped the letter into the pocket of her dress. They would send it from the town office before they set sail on a ship to cross the Ocean.

They.
Two creatures locked together. She wanted to be herself again.

Axandra insisted that they write a second letter to Jon. The words that flowed on paper this time were her words. She apologized for frightening him. She explained that it was time for her to go home, a journey that required her to go immediately and one that required she go alone. As tenderly as her crude vocabulary allowed, she reminded him how much she loved him. Usually, she did not need words to express these things. She only needed to touch him, kiss him and let her gifts open up to him. Lastly, she invited him to come to Undun City and find her. “
I will be waiting for you. But I understand if you do not want to see me again,
” she added. “
All my love, Axandra.
”

This letter she folded once and used the sticky to post it to the door where he would most certainly see it.

With the pack on her shoulder again, she left the cottage and began a long journey.

30th Trimont, 307

The letter arrived
in Undun City seven days after leaving Port Gammerton.

Addressed to the Head of Council, the folded parchment arrived in Nancy Morton's hands unopened. The outside bore no return address and only a single word in the upper left corner. “Ileanne.”

Pursing her eyes and mouth, Nancy cracked the sticky seal and unfolded the sheet of paper with a gentle, curious touch. She reviewed the words written in elegant swirling characters that were almost difficult to read.

The Councilor frowned at the letter. Nancy feared that someone would attempt to lay claim to the identity of the long missing child. In fact, she anticipated many such claims as the weeks tarried forward. Her plan to deal with them consisted of politely acknowledging each claim. Then she would send a representative to explain that the enthusiasm to fill the shoes of the Esteemed was appreciated, but at the same time unwelcome. So far, this was the first such claim to be made. Unable to send a representative to the claimant, she would wait for the impending arrival.

The Council would indeed require tests to provide proof. Only a few individuals possessed the ability to confirm the identity of this mysterious visitor. And she would share this letter with no one but the few whom she needed. No use giving the people any false hope.

The audacity of anyone to pretend to be a long dead child! A distasteful grab at honor! Nancy could barely palate the thought that anyone would make such a bold and clearly false move.

Sitting at the wide desk in her office, Nancy read the letter a second time, focusing on different words of the composition, seeking out anything in the language that would indicate who this woman was or where she was from. The letter contained no regional references and no date. The family name meant nothing to her. Nor did the letter contain any details that were not publicly known. The letter represented a feeble attempt to excite her. Nancy felt no excitement. She suspected that no one would come. She dreaded her duties if the writer of this letter actually arrived. The visitor would not be welcomed kindly.

+++

5th Quadrember

Councilor Morton kept watch over the front entrance of the Palace for several days, distracted her from her other duties. The staff observed her preoccupation, and they attempted to discover what secret she kept while staying well out of her way. Nancy caught one of the kitchen staff snooping in her office one afternoon and chased the young man out with a disgusted shout.

However, on a planet inhabited by people with telepathic abilities, secrets proved difficult to keep, especially when on the forefront of one's mind. Nancy couldn't help thinking about the letter. After six days, she grew restless waiting. She was about to give up that anyone would step forward to claim the note. Her inquiries into the location of a person named Axandra Korte turned up nothing. No one could find record that such a person existed. A fictitious name on a fictitious piece of drivel.

Miri caught the first stray thoughts about a visitor coming to Undun City, an important visitor, though the reason for the importance remained indiscernible to her from a mere peek. Morton shielded the thoughts whenever Miri lingered nearby.

But Miri let slip to other staff that the Councilor anxiously anticipated a visitor. Everyone in the Palace began to keep an eye on the front entrance to catch a first glimpse of the awaited stranger.

A council aide overheard that an Heir was coming to claim the Protectresship. He babbled this to everyone in the Palace, unable to contain his excitement that soon the Protectress would be with them again.

Morton frowned realizing the news spread around the staff like a prairie fire, deepening the creases in her already dour face. She reminded herself to keep her mind more shielded.

The seventh day after the letter arrived, a visitor appeared on the front walkway. From her office window, Nancy found a woman dressed in pale pink being escorted through the front doors of the Palace. She was a petite woman with dark brown curling hair loose about her shoulders.

For days Nancy had practiced how this first meeting would proceed. She decided she must march into the room with a cool head and skeptical temperament. She would dictate the tests to be performed. She half-expected that the show would quickly fizzle, that the imposter would give up immediately. If not, the Healer stood by to gauge the woman's state of mind and truthfulness. A Prophet would arrive tomorrow to determine the identity of the stranger, one of the Prophets who had last seen Ileanne the child.

Morton waited impatiently, tapping her foot on the stone floor beneath the window ledge. Frustrated with waiting for notification, she started out the door of her office just as Miri arrived with the news.

“Councilor Morton, Miss Axandra Korte awaits you in the Library,” the young woman announced, careful not to display her own excitement that the visitor had finally arrived. The server kept her pink-painted lips in a straight line, but her pale blue eyes betrayed her hunger to hear the verdict.

“Thank you, Miri. Have tea served. I will be with her momentarily.”

“Yes, Councilor.” Miri bowed and turned from the office, leaving the door open as she left.

Alone for a moment, Nancy breathed deeply and steeled herself for the task ahead. She very much doubted that the woman could be the lost daughter. The child had undoubtedly perished under the Great Storm. To attempt to pass oneself off as the lost child displayed gross impudence.

These thoughts set Morton in a sufficiently sour mood, so she headed to the Library on the second floor of the Palace to find out just who this woman thought she was.

Stepping into the expansive room lined with bookshelves, Nancy first saw the woman's back. She observed a short woman, slender yet curved. A pink dress with one slightly tattered hem flowed over the slight frame down to her knees. Miss Korte wore only light sandals on her feet. An islander. The woman handled a book from one of the shelves and read the first page.

Looking up as she sensed someone watching her, Axandra Korte turned to the Councilor as the elder woman entered. She drew a somewhat sheepish smile on her sun-kissed face, perhaps already aware of the distrust brewing in her host.

“Greetings, Miss Korte. Welcome to Undun City,” Morton greeted flatly, making the gesture less of a welcome and more of a formality. “From where did you travel?” Nancy asked curiously.

“I came from Gammer Island,” replied the young woman without hesitation, trying to retain her smile despite the less than cheerful welcome. “From the village of Port Gammerton.”

“That is quite a distance” Nancy stated. She knew well for she too was from the Western Islands, though not from Port Gammerton. “I judge by your arrival that you are determined to see this through.”

“I am,” Axandra replied seriously, more closely matching Morton's demeanor. She replaced the book carefully on the shelf before more formally addressing the Councilor. “As I suspected, you have doubts about my claim.”

A server arrived with tea. Miss Korte waited silently with Morton while they were served. Neither moved to sit down among the lavishly upholstered furniture. Nancy watched the visitor as the woman surveyed the room from ceiling to floor.

When they were alone again, Axandra reminisced, “I loved the Library. My mother would let me hide in here from time-to-time to read picture books.”

Nancy scowled listening to such a contrived story. The books on these shelves were rarely touched and the Protectress-Past had never mentioned her daughter's love of books. Elora rarely mentioned her daughter at all in recent years, and when she did, the thoughts sent the sick woman into a fit of grief.

“Let's get down to business, shall we?” urged Nancy. “With your permission, I have arranged two identification studies to be performed to validate your claim.”

“Of course,” the young woman agreed.

At that moment, Nancy took a good look at the woman standing a meter in front of her. Though disheveled from her travels, her resemblance to the Protectress-Past was unmistakable. From her oval face to her large almond-shaped eyes, round nose and soft lips painted in a natural shade of pink. Dark tea-colored curls contrasted her ivory skin tone, tanned from time under the suns. Miss Korte must have spent much of her time outdoors. Her mother's skin had never darkened to such a shade.

And those eyes—those lavender-colored irises that seemed to swirl like clouds in a whirlwind. Only the women of the Protectress' family were ever documented to have such color of eyes. The longer Nancy looked at them the more she decided that their color was true and not a trick of the light.

“First, our staff Healer will examine you physically and mentally to determine if you are being truthful. She will compare your physical examination to notes made by the Healer who would have cared for you as a child. Any birthmarks or scars will help determine the authenticity of your claim. She may also request a blood sample for further comparisons. Secondly, a Prophet who is familiar with the child Ileanne will examine your thoughts. I believe his examination may be the most definitive.”

With that, the Councilor summoned the Healer, a middle-aged woman named Eryn Gray, who politely asked for the Councilor to wait outside while she conducted her examination. Nancy imagined the procedure to include a thorough examination from head to foot, making notes on a sheet of paper of paper, and then continuing with the entrance into the mind. For privacy, Nancy felt no concern being asked to vacate the area. When the door to the library opened, Nancy noticed Miss Korte fastening the last button of her dress and rising to her feet from where she had perched on a wall-mounted bench. Eryn slipped a vial containing a blood sample into her pack.

“I find no reason to believe that this woman is lying to us,” the Healer announced openly. “She bears a pink stain birthmark between the spine and left scapula, similar to the one described in Healer Cardra's notes. I will compare the blood sample to those records as well.”

“Very good,” Nancy bowed gratefully to the Healer. “Thank you for your assistance.” She ushered the Healer out of the Library and stood alone with Miss Korte once again. She thought she spied relief in the young woman's eyes. One obstacle overcome successfully.

“Tomorrow, the Prophet will arrive. I will summon you at that time to meet with him. I trust you're prepared to allow him to enter your mind.”

“I have nothing to hide, Councilor. I wish you to understand the truth, as improbable as you believe it to be.” Morton observed that Axandra remained calm about the situation, as though she had no doubt what they would find.

“Very well. We'll proceed. Do you have accommodations? I take it you just arrived in the city.” Nancy eyed the wrinkled dress the woman wore and the stuffed travel bag that rested to one side of the doorway.

“I came straight here,” Axandra confirmed. “This is a very urgent matter for many people. I'll find a suitable inn in the city.”

“Nonsense. You may stay here in the Palace. I will have Miri show you to a guest room.”

Nancy thought the woman about to protest, but saw her think the better of it. Miss Korte appeared tired and in need of rest.

“Thank you. That is much appreciated.”

“You're welcome,” Morton said with a snort, still putting on an air of distrust. She turned on her heels and marched from the room. She sent Miri in to see to her guest's needs and returned to her office for a final task of the day. As part of her daily ritual, she cleared her desk of all papers and arranged her personal items suitably on the dark surface. While doing so, Nancy discovered that her staunch disbelief of the young woman's claim was quickly replaced with overall acceptance. This both relieved her, as the office needed filled desperately, and disturbed her. Miss Korte's emanations emitted a pervasive pulse of persuasion.

Once the task was complete, Nancy left the Palace for her residence.

+++

Releasing a breath
of great relief, Axandra allowed her shoulders slump as soon as Councilor Morton exited the room. The Head of Council, to her credit, did not allow the prospect of filling the position blindly lead her into accepting the claim. As frustrating as it was to go through the rigor of people stepping into her mind and eying her body, the ritual was also comforting. Not just anyone would be able to pose as the lost Heir.

And at least the Goddess rested quietly for now, having kept its promise to calm her mind if she came to Undun City. The creature still weighed heavily in her head, a physical weight that strained her neck. She hoped she would get used to the burden.

Soft pattering footsteps alerted her that someone else approached. Straightening her posture, she made herself ready for another round of questions.

Miri, the young blonde woman who had greeted her in the main hall, appeared in the Library again and asked that Axandra follow her. The aide moved lithely and quick, every move purposeful. They walked quietly up a flight of stairs in the center of the Palace and turned right into the south wing of the elaborate edifice, where the guest residences lay opposite the Protectress' residential suite.

Many memories from her childhood returned, things she had long ago buried in her strife to be someone else. She was never allowed in the guest wing, though she had wandered down this corridor a couple of times. She'd been just four or five then. The details were unclear, except for the feelings she remembered, a curiosity about everything and the desire to explore. She used to escape from her nanny and tutor and sneak around all over the Palace, much to their chagrin.