Call of the Goddess: A Bona Dea Novel (Stormflies Book 1) (6 page)

In the Library, she searched the shelves for something to pique her interests. She found an illustrated field guide to the local plants and animals in Eastland. She immediately looked in the index for the packhound and turned to the pages describing the creature. The visage rendered in pen and ink struck her as quite gruesome. The drawing depicted a tall animal with a sleek body and nimble legs built for quick bursts of speed. The head sprang like an oversized knob from the body, sporting a mouth filled with sharp teeth. Two long fangs jutted down from the upper jaw. Oversized ears pointed straight up, each turned in a different direction to listen independently for the slightest sound. Thick fur bristled high on the back, and the tail tucked low.

She certainly did not want to encounter the likes of such a beast. The captioning stated that attacks on humans were rare, mostly because humans stayed out of the way of these beasts and the hounds kept to the open prairie, away from homes. However, packhounds would eat whatever they could catch and had little fear of people. They traveled in packs of at least eight adults. Only sick or dying animals ventured off alone, if they escaped being eaten by their own pack.

Amazing, she thought, that the wall had not been erected around the garden earlier. The Palace stood on this hill for the last two hundred fifty years and the packhounds roamed here long before humans left Earth.

Holding onto the book for further reading about the indigenous flora and fauna, Axandra moved on through the shelves. She pulled out a recently penned volume by a Southlander entitled
Tales of the Journey: A Collection of Short Historical Fiction
. The introduction made a quick read, explaining that the author based his fiction upon stories passed down through his family. It was printed in the year 304.

With a slight creak, the left side of the double entry door opened inward. Miri found her once again.

“Miss Korte, Councilor Morton would like you to meet with her and the Council members in the Council Chamber.”

“Already? That was much sooner than I expected,” Axandra said, instantly feeling her heart race in anticipation. Breathing in deeply, she lifted her shoulders, letting them fall again with the exhalation. Books under her arm, she followed Miri out into the corridor. The aide closed the Library door behind them and began the march to the Council Chamber on the main level of the building.

They stepped into a small anteroom just outside the main doors of the chamber. These heavy wooden doors were carved with a large tree beginning with a curled but thick trunk that wound from the roots toward the left, slightly to the right, and then left again with a small twist. Brass leaves covered the numerous branches. Tiny serif lettering etched many of the leaves, bearing the names of those who had served as Councilors. The mentions included all members since the Council's formation, just a few years after the Landing. The years of service followed each name. The names began in the bottom section of leaves and worked up to the most recent Councilors. Layers of unetched leaves waited to honor the future classes.

Axandra focused on the base of the tree for a moment, taking a deep breath as they paused before these doors.

Outside the open archway of the anteroom, the staff slowly gathered. They tried not to seem obtrusive. Miri smiled at them and rested her hand on the door handle. “Are you ready?” she asked with an encouraging smile.

Axandra handed the young woman the books and nodded. “I am.” She raised her head and straightened her spine.

Miri opened the doors.

Axandra walked straight into a round room set with desks upon rounded risers. At each desk sat a member of the Council, save a single councilor's seat. A second empty seat in the front of the room remained reserved for the Protectress.

Nancy Morton rose to her feet and wasted no time on pretense.

“Ms. Axandra Korte, the blood sample comparison confirms your claim of relation to the Protecting family. Tyrane of the Prophets confirms that you are Ileanne, the lost daughter of the Protecting family. I offer the Councilors the opportunity to challenge the claim.”

One rose, a younger man with a cynical expression. He donned a drab suit with a high keyhole collar. His raven hair was cropped below his ears, but slicked back at the sides. His skin gleamed deep bronze.

“Mr. Osander has the floor.”

“Ms. Korte, I find your timing impeccable. You waited to come forward when no one in the family is left alive to confirm your identity, and you wasted little time after the Protectress' death to come forward to claim your title. Do you do this simply for the fortune of the Protectresship?”

Believing that the overall presence in the room accepted her has the Heir, Axandra felt encouraged, not intimidated, by this man's harsh tone.

“The Protectress has no fortune,” Axandra reminded those present. “She exists to serve and protect her people as a voice in their stead. I have come to you now to fulfill the obligation I have owed since my birth.”

“You could have come to us long before now to begin fulfilling your duties,” Osander demanded. “What possesses you now? Glory? Fame?”

What an odd way to phrase the question, Axandra thought, for he did not know the true secret. Only three did, she remembered this from what little training she had received from the Prophets. Three Councilors knew about the Goddess—the only people in the world outside of the Prophets.

“If I could fulfill the duties of the office in obscurity, away from public eyes—I would prefer it. I have no desire for everyone to know my face or adore me,” Axandra stated honestly. “I understand these things come as part of my service. I want only to preserve that which our people hold most dear—our way of life.”

Morton interrupted the young man. “Thank you, Councilor Osander. She has sufficiently answered the questions. Are there any other challengers?”

No one else came forward.

“The Council has already voted to validate your claim and to begin your installation as Protectress. Do you accept this office?”

A quiver coursed along her muscles from her feet to the neck. She hoped no one could see her shaking.

“I do,” Axandra replied, willing the words to form on her breath.

“Then the Council orders it so. Your formal training will begin tomorrow morning. Your installation will take place in two weeks. Welcome home, Ileanne,” Morton said, smiling at last.

The Councilors applauded and rose to their feet.

Cheers and applause also came from the main hall as the staff heard the news. No doubt, as the news spread, everyone everywhere would be very excited.

The Councilors filed from the risers to introduce themselves. As they did so, Axandra tried to remember each one, but her mind reeled with the surreal sensation that she was truly about to become Protectress, a fate she long avoided. Here she stood in the Council Chamber, where she would take part in setting an example for the citizens. Her quivering intensified. She tried to take in a deep but discreet breath.

Each Councilor bowed to her in greeting and welcomed her back to the City. She appreciated the common courtesy of avoiding touch. They wouldn't be able to feel her trembling.

Eventually, the Councilors divided into smaller committees, each with a task to write the official announcement or plan the training schedule. They moved off to smaller meeting rooms.

At last, Axandra stood alone with Morton.

“I am pleased,” Nancy began, “that my doubts about your identity have proven misplaced.” Beneath the face value of her words, Morton retained other doubts about Axandra's abilities in the tasks to come.

“Thank you, Councilor. I know it hasn't been easy to convince people that I am … me.”

“Oh, on the contrary, it's been quite simple to convince most people,” Morton assured, clasping her hands behind her back. “That is one reason why I was so skeptical—to protect everyone. Most were convinced the moment they saw you. I erred on the side of caution.”

“Please make yourself more at home, Ms. Saugray,” Morton went on, emphasizing the use of the familial name of the Protecting Family, rather than the name Axandra had adopted. Morton gestured her toward the main entry. “Miri has already moved your belongings into the Residence. It's your home now—again.”

“Thank you.”

Axandra walked out into the main hall. The staff members scattered back to their duties, disappearing quickly into hallways and doorways, eyes flickering with excitement.

Two Elite, the standing guard of the Protectress, waited outside the doors. As Axandra walked by, they fell into step behind her.

Miri waited on the bottom step of the main stair, unable to quash a grin from her freckled ivory face. “I knew it was you,” she said excitedly. “This is so wonderful! All of your things are in the Residence now. I'll show you the suite—”

“I know it,” Axandra stated, her own enthusiasm fading out now that the decision was final.

“Oh, right. I'm sorry. I—”

“Don't worry about it. It's very strange for me too.” Axandra gestured for Miri to lead the way.

Miri fussed for several moments after they entered the official suite, showing Axandra where necessities were kept and offering to bring up a meal.

“No, thank you,” Axandra refused, too nervous to think about food. Every few minutes, her mood changed in an almost manic swing, from anxiousness to depression, from sadness to pride. She didn't want to touch anything. She stood in what seemed relative safety in the center of the bedroom. “I would just like to be alone for a while.”

“Of course, Your Honor,” Miri addressed, bowing in respect. “Please summon me if you need anything.”

“I'm not the Esteemed Protectress yet,” Axandra reminded upon hearing the title of respect. Bashfully, she requested. “Please don't call me that. I'm not ready.”

“Yes, Miss Saugray. My apologies.” Miri bowed again, backing from the room.

After Miri left the Residence, Axandra moved back into the great room, blind to the objects that filled the space.

The goal of being established as the Heir had been realized. The Council recognized her for who she was supposed to be. Everything happened so quickly, without time to absorb the moments or strategize what to do or say next.

The suns bowed just past high noon. Until tomorrow, she had little to do. Free time gave liberty to her brain to think. She would rather occupy her time with some laborious task than think.

This was Home, the place of her birth. Her world began here. She feared exploring, afraid that her parents had never cleared her room of those things left behind by her departing. Had her mother left the room a shrine to her lost child?

She would only know if she went to the room, the one in the northwest corner.

Her feet took her there, to that room, and her hand opened the door.

She wasn't sure if she should be disappointed or relieved that the room was empty of anything personal. A wide bed draped in a thin canopy, a dresser, and a vanity and mirror furnished the child's room. No toys, no drawings or children's books. They had taken it all away.

11th Quadrember, 307

For the next week
, Axandra woke at the break of day and spent hours engulfed in information on rules and laws and protocols and procedures. She returned to her rooms in a trance when evening came and fell asleep quickly after dinner, which she always took alone in the suite.

Lunch she took with whomever her instructor happened to be on that day, as several of the Council members took turns giving her lessons in certain aspects associated with her service. Moonsday she took part in visiting with citizens about the city, strolling the avenues with young Carmen Offut and introducing herself to the individuals who performed their services for the Palace community, including tailors, farmers and the mechanics who maintained the cars.

On Tinsday, she took part in the Council session, observing how each member contributed proposals to distribute surplus foods from their respective regions and discussed the most logistical and equitable options. The fishers in the southeastern areas of Westland were graced with a bountiful harvest of greenfin this season due to a bloom of the algae the species fed upon. Much of the fish could be shipped cold and served fresh. The rest would be dried for storage.

The third day she toured the hidden areas of the Palace that she would not normally see–the Archives, the Laundry, the Recycling and the Holds in the basement where emergency food and general supplies were stored. She toured the tunnels and the bunkers where she might be housed in a weather emergency, a place stocked with rations and water, cots and even games to keep the occupants entertained until the threat passed.

As her main function, the Protectress provided a visible, physical link between the rule makers to the rule followers. She represented the community as a whole, a single soul with the responsibility of hearing and seeing the needs of everyone in order to maintain their world as a safe and peaceful home. She was a balancing force between the Covenants and the people required to interpret the ever-changing world.

Publicly, this appeared to be a symbolic duty. Even with telepathy, a person did not have the capability to know all the needs of the people everywhere in the world. Even a powerful and adept telepath possessed a limited range. Admittedly, Axandra was the strongest remoter she knew, even if she kept her abilities reigned in. With the Goddess, hearing and seeing farther became possible, for it amplified her own mental talents. The Goddess filled her head with the voices of the people, even those hundreds of kiloms away. She could literally hear the concerns of the people in her mind. She could see what they saw. At night, when all was quiet and she lay still, her head flooded with the lives of strangers. However, the Goddess's involvement was kept secret.

Axandra understood why the Prophets trained so vigorously in blocking. Even that training, much forgotten over time, did not help her now. Sometimes, blocking anything seemed an insurmountable obstacle. The Goddess held her mind open, allowing everything to flow in. She begged at night for it to give her rest.

Tonight, the voices cried with distress, people in a small village somewhere south. They felt very afraid, but she could not pinpoint why. Their voices sounded like whispers where one could only hear the hisses of breath. In her dreams, blurs of darkened faces clashed with the sound of someone running, panting with strained lungs.

In the morning, Miri woke her early. The suns barely kissed the sky with dusty pink light. “Miss, a messenger came with terrible news. Councilor Morton needs you downstairs.”

Groggy from the restless night, Axandra pushed against the mattress to rise slowly, pulling her legs from beneath the light covers. She knew immediately that this news concurred with her dreams. She dressed quickly in whatever clothes the assistant pulled out for her, ignoring her hair and face to get downstairs in a hurry.

Residents of the village of Cutoff found a man dead in his home, violently killed. At first the Safety Volunteers suspected an animal attack, but the home was shut tightly with no way for an animal to enter or escape. The neighbors heard no cries for help, and no predatory animals were sighted near the village that evening. The Night Watcher discovered the body after noticing late in the evening that the lights in the house were still on, long after the owner typically went to bed.

They did not know who or what caused his death. The villagers were frightened to be vulnerable inside the assumed safety of their homes.

Along with this report, delivered in person to Axandra, Councilor Morton and three other councilors, came word that one of the villagers of the community remained unaccounted for.

“He was last seen by the Day Watcher 'round six o'clock yester evening. He lives alone, so nobody sent word out he was missing 'til late this morning when he didn't show up at the canning kitchen,” the Night Watcher stated. He appeared visibly exhausted and shaken by the incident. A tall man with thick upper arms, he stood before them in Morton's office, clutching his round cap in his hands. He could easily overpower another man or perhaps even a charging antelope, yet he stood before them white-faced and terrified. He had not rested since seeing the body.

“We grieve with you for your loss,” Morton said when the report ended. The Watcher sighed, struggling with sleeplessness and sorrow. “Please take rest here in the Palace. We will send assistance to your village immediately to find the missing man.”

“Thank you, Councilor, and thank you, Protectress. We are very happy to have you with us again.” But he said this without happiness, for he could feel none.

Axandra bowed in his direction. “I wish you a comfortable rest. The Assistors will work as quickly as they can.” She sent out her sympathy to him. Just the sound of her voice seemed to ease his distress. One of the Elite escorted him from the office.

“I will go with the Assistors,” said Antonette Lelle as she stepped forward before the small gathering. “These are my people.”

“As you wish, Ms. Lelle. We await your return.”

The councilor left immediately to gather the Assistor team.

The tension in the room escalated since the beginning of the report. The others let their imaginations get the better of them.

“Very strange circumstances,” voiced Casper Ross, opening the air for discussion.

“Surely this was some sort of accident,” Nancy purported, unwilling to accept the worst possible scenario, the one not yet voiced.

Axandra felt lightheaded. She tried to listen as the councilors spoke, deciding for the moment that she would only listen. Her midnight dreaming had not revealed any more information than the Watcher's report gave them. She eased into a seat, signaling the councilors to follow suit, and reached for a nearby glass of water.

“I've never heard of anything like this,” said Sara Sunsun in disbelief. “No one on this planet has been…
murdered
,” she whispered the atrocious word, “by another human since—since ought-six, at the end of the New World Conflict.” Sara's eyes glistened with moisture as she glanced upward toward the ceiling. One hand moved to cover her lips and hide a quiver.

The transplanted humans long ago discarded acts of brutality such as murder. The appointment of the first Protectress and her endorsement of the Prophets established peace centuries ago. Without peace, this planet would become like the world they left behind—disordered and destroyed.

Blood pounded in Axandra's temples. Her stomach cramped. Blinking rapidly, she attempted to remain alert.

“Now, now,” Morton soothed. “There is no proof that it is murder. We still cannot rule out other causes. The man may have done this to himself.”

The Goddess pulled at Axandra's mind, pulling her down and away from the present, pulling her into yesterday, when she had followed Sara Sunsun through the basement and observed the staff taking inventory of food, paper, toiletries and various sundries stored in the Holds. A sick feeling welled up in her stomach as she was pulled back. She leaned more deeply into the chair.

Stop it,
she begged, trying to focus. It kept drawing her back in time. The last few days flashed by in reverse.

Then the world went gray.

+++

When she woke again,
Axandra found the only people present were Miri and the Healer, whose name she couldn't recall. It was the same woman who performed the examination upon her initial arrival. With sticky eyes, she oriented herself to her location—Morton's office. She lay on the settee.

“Slowly, Miss,” the Healer instructed. “Eat this.” She gestured Axandra to open her month and inserted a sweet nugget of cone fruit, which melted on her tongue like pure sugar. “Miri tells me you ate very little lunch yesterday, no dinner and no breakfast.”

“We didn't have time for breakfast this morning,” Axandra defended. The sugar woke up her brain with a buzz.

“Well, your blood sugar dropped and your brain dropped with it,” the woman explained. “Feeling better?”

The sugar dissolved to a small sliver. “Yes. Thank you, Healer.” She began to sit up. Her head still ached with each heartbeat. Her sinuses felt dry.

“Slowly, please. Miri, breakfast immediately. She needs to eat regularly.”

“Yes, Healer Gray,” Miri disappeared to procure the meal.

“How long was I out?” Axandra asked as her body began to stabilize and the churning in her stomach settled. She didn't dare move from her seat. Her eyes swam as she tried to focus on the Healer's richly freckled face.

“Oh, just about fifteen minutes,” the Healer replied, sharing an understanding smile. Healer Gray helped her over to a small table where breakfast was being set and waited while Axandra ate several bites of whole grain bread with creamy butter.

“And seriously, Miss. Eat when you need to. This will happen again if you don't.”

“It's never happened before,” Axandra countered, sipping her tea.

“You've never been under this kind of stress before either, I'll bet,” the Healer inferred.

“No, I haven't. That's true. This is a lot different than my old life.” Axandra continued to eat, though her stomach did not want her to continue. The organ cramped as more food filled the space.

“I will check on you later this afternoon,” said the Healer. She packed her small bag and readied to leave. “Miri will keep an eye on you and report to me. Lunch and snacks.”

“Yes, Healer,” Axandra agreed like a chastised child. She bowed her head in thanks.

“Take care,” Gray wished, then excused herself, her pouch slung over her shoulder and across her torso.

Councilor Morton returned to the office, her face expressing annoyance at being evacuated from her space for someone's fainting spell. “It is good to see you feeling better, Miss. You gave us all a start,” she said insincerely, as though fainting were a common occurrence. “The Assistors are gathering in the City Square. They intend to leave shortly. Do you have a message for them?”

A short speech of encouragement was customary when Assistors left home to aid in calamities. Words from the soon-to-be Protectress needed to be hopeful yet truthful. She paused a moment as she decided just what to say.

“I wish them speed and success in finding the missing. And I thank them for their service.”

She felt inadequate, like there should be more to say, more of an explanation of why they were going. She hoped for the best, but feared the worst would come. The missing man most likely committed the ultimate sin against his fellow human.

Then what? The law supported no punishment for such crime other than detainment. Murder had been erased from their culture. The last murderer, by account, committed suicide out of guilt, punishing himself.

“I will tell them. We will continue with our training tomorrow. Hopefully we will have news by then.”

“I hope so, too. Thank you.”

“Take your time,” Morton offered, though Axandra sensed she really wanted to say Hurry up and get out of here. “I have an appointment with Principal Noel about restoration of the city gates.” With that, the Head of Council left the room again.

Miri, the young blonde, was appointed her personal aide by the Head of Council's decision alone, and not yet officially. Miri simply took over caring for Axandra's needs during the short time she'd been here. The woman's eyes looked at her brightly just now, and Axandra could see in them loyalty, faith and honesty. As any good server should do, she held her tongue in company, but often vocalized her opinions in private.

“She's been rather rude to you,” Miri said quietly after the Councilor passed from earshot.

Axandra left the comment alone, though inside she agreed. Perhaps Morton had the right to treat her in such a manner. After all, she had shown up out of nowhere with no idea how to do her job.

“Miri, I never got a chance to ask about the Elite in the garden earlier this week.” The memory came to her mind as she thought of the dead man and the description of his wounds. “They were looking for something—in the rain.”

Miri answered quickly. “After you asked about the packhounds, I thought it best to have the garden searched just in case one got in. They didn't find any unusual animals, but a gate was left open at the back of the garden, on the River side.”

“Can the gates be opened from the outside?”

“No. Only from inside the garden, Miss Saugray.”

“That's good to know.” Axandra returned her thoughts to her hopes that the missing man would be found alive and innocent and attempted to finish her meal.