Call of the Goddess: A Bona Dea Novel (Stormflies Book 1) (9 page)

Tyrane came forward to retrieve the token, holding the metal casing between his pale hands. He did not bow as he approached, but opened the mirror toward her.

“Your Honor,” he said. “We, the Prophets, provide you with this mirror so that you are constantly reminded that you are one of the people, lest you forget that you are a human being. Peer into the mirror and see yourself. Peer into the mirror and see your people.”

Looking into the mirror, Axandra saw her face and her violet eyes, and remembered exactly the opposite, that she was more than one of the people. She would always be reminded by those eyes.

With that, Tyrane placed the mirror in her hands and turned away. Then the three Prophets disappeared once again, back into seclusion.

Morton turned to the audience now.

“Citizens, please give honor to our most Esteemed Protectress. May she guide us in our living so that we may continue to share knowledge and live in peace with this world.”

“It is by the will of these people,” the gathering recited in unison, “that we accept the leadership of the Protectress.”

Cheers rose up from the Hall and spread to the gathering outside the Palace. The words of the event had been channeled outside on speakers, so that as many as possible could bear witness to the installation. Axandra waved and bowed again to the crowd.

The time came to speak a few words of her own. With some assistance from the Councilors, Axandra had composed a short statement, hopefully to explain her absence without admitting to any character flaw that would undermine her position. She wanted to be as open as possible, but the councilors coached her that doing so might not be the best idea.

“Citizens,” the Protectress began. She had practiced for many days, memorizing the words, rehearsing the intonations. “Thank you. I understand that many of you have wondered about my absence from Undun City since my childhood and many of you are relieved and exhilarated that I have returned to take my place here. To truly understand the people I speak for, I have lived among you. I have experienced firsthand the way of life I must protect. I have a much better understanding of what I am charged with preserving, and I thank everyone I met along the way for teaching me the lessons other protectors have been without. I will serve the people for the good of all people. Thank you. Enjoy the celebration.”

As the applause rose up, Axandra descended from the stage and, preceded by two Elite and more following behind, made her way toward the main doors and out into the crowded courtyard in front of the Palace. She told the Councilors of her plan to do this instead of escaping through a rear door to avoid the crowd, as some had suggested. They warned her that many would want to touch her, as though it would bring them luck to do so. To solidify her own statement about being one of the people, Axandra insisted she walk among them. She braced her mind for these contacts.

The Elite watched the crowd carefully as Axandra extended her hands to the people. Each touch was brief, but each mind touched hers all the same. They felt overwhelmingly happy. Some hands felt warm, others cool, some clammy, some dry, some smooth, some rough. Each mind left an imprint on her, from the grandmother who watched her young grandchildren during the day, to the young boy who pictured her in a fairy tale. Yet one touch sent a different emotion through her body. It wasn't anger, but it was powerful. Someone wanted to cause harm. Resentment clung to her

You do not belong here.

The touches changed so swiftly, she could not pick out which person thought these things. The line of people swept her along. Thousands wanted to be close, but she knew she would need to stop soon, before she suffered from shock.

The Elite began to lead her away from the crowd. She waved and bowed again to the gathering of people before she walked back into the Palace to prepare for the banquet with the Councilors, Principals and Governors.

The Commander of the Elite led her escape back into the Palace. He directed her off to a narrow hallway that led along the front edge of the North wing, taking her away from the crowd in the main entry. Soon, the Grand Hall would be reset with tables and chairs for the banquet. For the moment, Axandra was taken away to refresh herself.

In a quiet room, Axandra gestured for Ty to give her a moment of his time. The Commander, a stocky man with bronze skin, acknowledged her by removing his feathered cap. At attention, he stood a half-head taller than Axandra. “How may I serve you?” he asked, bowing his head in her direction.

Through the windows, they could hear the cheering crowd outside. The glass and stone muted the deafening sound.

She looked directly into his dark brown eyes. “Outside the Palace, does anyone ever know of an attempt on the Protectress's life?”

“Madam, no one has made an attempt to harm the Protectress in the last 200 years,” he stated firmly.

“I believe someone is going to try.”

“They would be unsuccessful,” he said with even more conviction.

“I hope so. Someone in the crowd touched me, and I felt they wanted to do physical harm. I believe toward me.”

He didn't take her seriously, she sensed, but he kept that hidden from his face. His service was to protect the Protectress, to keep her safe to the best of his ability, even if it meant accepting possibly ridiculous notions.

“As I said before, Madam,” Ty leaned forward to emphasize his point, “they will fail.”

She thanked him and asked for a few minutes alone, to which he exited the room, no doubt hovering just outside. After using the lavatory and looking herself over in the mirror, she sat down to wait for summons to the dinner. She sighed tiredly, though she didn't feel sleepy. In fact, she felt quite restless, in need of a long night of activity to release a lot of pent up physical energy. She'd spent so much time inside, studying, reading and talking, that she hadn't even taken a walk in the last week.

When the Councilors beckoned her to make her entrance and join the party, she did so eagerly. Everyone ate a lavish meal while she moved among the guests and spoke to them each personally, even if only for a few minutes. She didn't try to remember any of their names; she knew this was an impossible task. But she did make an effort to remember something about them. No doubt she would see many of them again.

Hours later, exhausted from the celebration and tipsy from the wine, Axandra got out of her evening gown and into her nightgown. After some tea, a bitter-flavored remedy for the post-alcohol headache, she crawled into her bed and went to sleep.

+++

Around the world,
in every community, the people celebrated the day. The wine makers and distillers broke out their best barrels and passed them around. Food was cooked and served for almost thirty-six hours straight and everyone ate until they were stuffed.

In Port Gammerton, a great deal of talk circulated about the woman who had left their number more than a month ago.

“Had you ever thought that she might be the One,” asked Jeanette of her other elder friends gathered around the table.

“She did have those unusual eyes,” replied one. “Not many have violet eyes like those.”

“But she never even hinted at it,” Jeanette went on, feeling it was her duty to tell what she knew. “Not once did she give it away, and she knew the entire time. What a secret to carry around!”

“She kept it pretty well,” hummed Dora, who sat next to Jeanette on a chair at their table. “I wonder what she'll do about the baby?”

“She wasn't ever pregnant, you poop,” Jeannette scolded.

“Coulda fooled me.”

“What about poor Jon?” asked another. “They seemed so happy together and she just up and left. If they were having a baby, why did she run off?” It was somewhat of a scandal. The gossipers of the village wondered why the young woman had left them behind without so much as a word goodbye. When they didn't see her for a few days, they'd asked Jon, who told them bluntly that she had left town and she wasn't coming back. And he gruffly explained to everyone that she was not pregnant. He was quite bitter about the break up at first.

“Who knows why love changes? And she wasn't ever pregnant,” said Jeanette as she sipped her glass of red wine. Her wrinkled hand held the bowl-shaped glass very gently around the stem. “A least that puzzle is solved. We know she's all right and we have a new Protectress. Everything turned out well.”

“He's not taking it all that badly.” One pointed to Jon, nearby in the same tavern, smiling and doting on another young woman who was unmarried. She was slender, curvy and sported brilliant auburn locks. She almost met his height, where Axandra had always been dwarfed by his tall stature. If seeing pictures of his lost companion bothered him in anyway, Jon wasn't letting it show. He didn't look as though he even cared about the celebration, other than it being an excuse to fill himself with ale and fill his hands with a beautiful young woman.

“She'll do a wonderful job,” Jeanette told her friends. “We won't be disappointed. I wonder why she wanted to live all the way over here instead of going back to her home.”

“I heard she hated her parents,” Dora offered, her words already slurred with intoxication. She lifted her mug of ale to her lips, trying to focus her bleary eyes on its contents. “She's a runaway. Remember when they first thought she'd been kidnapped? By one of the Prophets, no less. Those creeps. Never did trust 'em. Now she's told everyone she left on purpose.”

“Oh, that tripe about living as one of the people—” Jeanette guffawed loudly. “Why would anyone want to do that when she could've lived at the Palace, up to her ears in luxury. I think somebody conned her into leaving. She was just a little girl at the time. She was probably lured by the Prophet with the promise of something sugary and was never allowed to even think about going home. Well, she's home now. I, for one, am happy for her.”

The villagers around her all raised their voices in cheer.

+++

In Northland
, a large group of celebrators gathered at the site of the Landing just a bit before the installation began.

The Believers, as they called themselves, believed that a Goddess, a divine and all-knowing being, had shown herself to their ancestors before they had ever left Old Earth, giving them the command to leave that toxic place and come here, to the New World. And it was at the landing site of this spacecraft, Sojourner, that the Goddess had come with the people, keeping the fleet of ships safe on the Journey—for so many times the ships narrowly escaped destruction. They believed the Goddess protected them still, through the Protectress.

They gathered here each time a Protectress was inducted, honoring the divine Goddess as she passed from the old to the new, in hopes that she might return here and they might catch a glimpse of the Goddess's true form.

The remains of the ships that lay grounded were maintained as they had been left, like museums to the distant past. Caretakers guarded the skeletons of the craft, the carcasses that had been cannibalized in the beginning to create shelter and storage, and later became tombs for the dead.

The Believers camped around the main entrance of the monument at the starboard side of the ship. They watched, prayed, drank ale and ate bread, celebrating and calling to the Goddess to come to them.

Around eleven that night, a glow rose up over the Sojourner. At first, the people thought it must be the Northern Lights, sparkling in the night sky. But the glow came too low in the sky to be the aurora. It seemed to hover just above the hull of the derelict ship, compact and bright.

“She is here!” someone cried out, pointing to the light. Others joined in the shouting until everyone came from their tents. They all stood and stared at the light as it hovered, dancing slightly to and fro in the air. Some muttered prayers to her, praising her immortal wisdom and asking her grace to lead them to perfection. Others lost their words, stunned to see her naked form.

The light hovered many minutes more, then began to pulse, dimming and brightening slightly, over and over in a slow, purposeful rhythm.

Everyone watching began to fall silent, hypnotized by the pulse. Only a few whisperings continued. Minutes later, not even the night noises could be heard.

In a brilliant flash, the light disappeared, leaving behind only euphoria among the Believers. They smiled at each other or cried happily, falling to their knees.

The Goddess was here. They knew the truth. They were chosen. They would spread the word.

9th Pentember, 307

In the weeks
following her installment, Axandra continued her training and began to travel about the continent to villages within each of the four Regions, a tradition for generations.

For the long trips, the visiting group took a short convoy of electric cars. The vehicles were composed of aluminum frames and panels. A solar battery powered each conveyance, charged by the panel composing the cabin roof. For comfort, the interiors boasted luxurious padding for comfort over the unpaved and bumpy roads.

Knowing how susceptible she was to motion sickness, Axandra asked the Healer for something that would keep her stomach from churning. Throwing up the hospitality of her hosts at every stop seemed unproductive in the effort to put forth a good face.

Eryn gave her a supply of dried chickle leaves in a small glass vial with instructions to steep them in her tea or to chew them directly. One dose—the leaves were already cut into dose-sized strips—would stave off motion sickness for an entire day.

“Oh, I've heard of this, but it's difficult to get them in Gammerton. We can rarely obtain anything nearly as effective. Thankfully I rarely traveled.”

“It's local to Northland,” Eryn explained as she finished checking her Healer's pouch for supplies. She joined the entourage on their trek to Southland, their first tour of villages. “Sara brings the leaves for me when she comes to town. It's the most effective remedy I've found.”

In one car, outfitted to seat seven passengers with ample comfort in the rear compartment, loaded Axandra, Eryn, and Councilors Morton, Sunsun and Lelle. The driver operated the vehicle from inside the front compartment and a secondary driver sat on the right. In the second car rode four Elite, their commander and Miri. Their luggage, mostly for the Protectress, embarrassingly enough, stowed neatly in a compartment at the extreme rear of each car. The other councilors from Southland had left Undun a few days before to prepare their villages for the Protectress' visit. Arranging themselves comfortably in the compartment seats, Eryn shared the bench with Axandra and the other three sat across from them. Axandra made sure to face forward, in hopes the position would stave off sickness.

“May I sit in the middle?” Sara asked the two older Councilors. “You know I have such long legs.”

Batting her gray eyelashes in annoyance, Morton conceded. “Yes, Sara. You may.” It took several minutes for everyone to shift and settle.

In six hours, if the traveling went well, they would arrive at Range End, aptly named by the people who settled where the mid-continental mountain range faded back in low rolling hills. On the way, they would stop in Redding for lunch.

As they started out from the Palace, they drove slowly through the main thoroughfare of the city, a broad avenue paved with hand-formed terracotta bricks. The streets ramped up to the doorways of shops and homes along the street.

Along the route, a man kneeled on the bricks, replacing a few that were cracked and worn. He moved aside to let the cars go by, waving to the drivers as they passed. Then he returned to his work, prying up the ruined bricks and packing down the new ones.

They left town to the west, toward the towering sharp peaks of the mountains, and on to a fork in the main road heading south. The driver did his best to smooth out the ride on the somewhat eroded pavement. A kilom later they passed a paving crew just beginning deconstruction of sections of collapsed roadway.

They departed around eight in the morning, planning to arrive before dinner. The eastern suns glowed upon the mountainside, accentuating the crevices, crags and boulders that designed the slope. Flecks of mica sparkled in the pink and gray granite.

For practicality, Axandra wore a pantsuit of earthy red in hue. She had taken off her jacket and stowed it, neatly folded, in the shallow bin above. At the moment, she held onto a book she brought with her, for she hadn't had the luxury to start on the collection of short stories she'd borrowed from the Library. She gazed out the window instead of reading, her chin perched on her folded hand. Stretched in the space in front of her, her legs crossed at the ankle.

“Join us in a game of rummy?” offered Sara with a welcoming smile. The councilors folded down a table top between the seats and pulled out a deck of playing cards.

“I haven't played that game,” Axandra declined uncomfortably. She labored over what attitude to take with other people. Should she distance herself from those in her everyday life? She did not want to be lonely, but the possession of her mind by the Goddess made her feel distinctly alone. She also felt particularly friendless, knowing no one in Undun prior to her recent arrival and having no opportunity to make friends prior to becoming Protectress.

“Oh, we'll teach you. I promise the time will go by much faster if we have a little fun.” Sara Sunsun gave a little wave for Axandra to join them. Sara exuded pleasantness and good-humor. Of the individuals Axandra had met in Undun City, Sara was the most amiable, always ready to start a conversation about anything cheerful and making even mundane tasks less tedious.

“You're right,” Axandra admitted. The sixteen day voyage from Gammerton to Undun had felt like years.

Sliding over on the long bench seat, Axandra agreed to join them. The cards were dealt, and they took turns explaining the rules. After a few practice hands, Axandra began to understand the nuances of the games, and the play became somewhat raucous, each competitor playfully blaming another for their losing a hand.

While they played, they visited about both personal and business topics, openly sharing troubles and joys alike. At least this was true for Sara and Councilor Lelle. Nancy barely afforded anyone so much as a glance during the games, and especially not in Axandra's direction.

Sara spoke of her life-partner. “Suzanne is very upset about the incident in Cutoff. She worries about my traveling to Undun for the Council. She's suddenly nervous that we'll be attacked by some stranger along the road. But she's always been prone to an overactive imagination.”

“Where do you live?” asked Axandra for she knew little about the council members and thought they all lived in Undun City. But it seemed logical that the Councilors would live with their constituents.

“In North Compass,” Sara explained. “Almost five hours to the northwest of Undun. Suzanne keeps our home there and is a teacher of music and an artist. Fortunately, I'm not usually away from home this much. The extra travel is worrisome to her, now that strange things are happening.”

“She must love you very much.” Axandra felt envious. Jon had not yet written to her, and she doubted he much cared now. For the last week, she deeply regretted having left her lover without saying goodbye, without explaining herself in person. The Goddess had receded into the back of her mind during the past few days, giving her relative peace and quiet. Now her mind renewed worries of her former life, of abandoning her village and her friends. And especially of abandoning Jon and of frightening his soul so that he was terrified to be anywhere near her.

“She does. I don't think I can love her as much as she loves me—and that's a great deal, I'll admit,” Sara chuckled. She examined the cards in her hand and pulled the top card from the draw pile, slipping it in place and discarding the card from the left of the fan. Axandra noticed the beautiful ring on Sara's left hand, silver metal and blue stones. Sara possessed slender hands of pale pink. She stood several centims taller than Axandra on her slender frame. Often, Sara wore open-necked blouses that bared a graceful clavicle and modest cleavage. Her pink, freckled face smiled more often than not, as though she enjoyed everything in life. Her blue eyes sparkled, especially when she spoke of Suzanne.

“Does she want you to retire?” Nancy inquired, her tone stern. “It's your turn, Madam,” she whispered aside to Axandra, who had lost track in the conversation.

Axandra took the card from the discard pile, laid down her completed sets, and discarded her final card. “I'm out,” she said timidly. This was the tenth hand she reigned.

The councilors turned to her with dismayed looks.

“Again?” Nancy tossed down her cards disgustedly, then took up a pencil and score pad. “Points, please.”

They added up their totals and saw that Axandra won the game. “Beginner's luck,” Antonette grumbled under her breath.

“I hope you all aren't letting me win,” the Protectress probed. Though she possessed the capability to reach into their minds, she left their thoughts to themselves out of moral principle.

“I wouldn't dream of it,” Antonette crowed. Her hair was short, white and straight. Jowls framed her thin lips and wrinkles framed her eyes. “We should be stopping for a break soon. We're almost to Redding.”

Outside the window, she could see a small town in the short distance. The car moved at a good clip on a smoother section of road. Getting out to stretch their legs would feel good but they still had three hours to Range End, their first official stay-over in Southland. “We've just crossed the border,” Antonette continued. “Welcome to Southland, Protectress.”

Within a few minutes they stopped outside a small house in the loose collection of homes known as the village of Redding. After a moment a tall man, round about the gut, strode out. He wore blue slacks and a white button shirt with the collar open. Suspenders held up his pants. Mud caked the sides of his leatherleaf boots, each of which had frayed laces.

As the travelers piled out of the cars, Antonette moved forward to introduce them to the local Principal. He bowed in welcome.

“Please come in for a rest. We have lunch spread for you. I hope it suits your needs.” He gestured to a shelter house that stood to one side of the center of the small village, where several tables stood laden with food and drink, and where the majority of the townsfolk gathered.

For about twenty minutes, they rested and took their lunch standing and milling about with the local people. They stood to stretch their legs, knowing they would be back in the car for another lengthy period in less than an hour.

Despite the herbal remedy, Axandra's stomach still bubbled. Finished with her small bite of lunch, she listened to the Principal's proposal to expand the communications network in order for each village to possess up to ten communits for public use. Currently, each village had one or two communits reserved for government or emergency use only. Resources existed to commit to the increased number, and the new units would allow residents to quicken communications between family members and colleagues across the continent. The Principal had done his homework, and knew that convincing the Protectress favored his desired outcome.

Much too soon, Nancy reminded everyone that the time had come to continue the trek. Plates and cups returned to the tables, and the travelers exited the shelter to return to the cars.

“Thank you very much for your hospitality,” Axandra bowed graciously to their hosts and directly to the Principal. “And for your ideas. I will take them to the Council for discussion.”

“It was an immense pleasure to meet you, Esteemed Protectress.” The Principal bowed deeply.

The traveling party climbed back into the cars. This time Axandra rode with Nancy, Miri and two of the Elite. The secondary drivers took the wheels, relieving their counterparts. The next few hours passed in subdued silence. Axandra once again attempted to read her book, yet could not concentrate on the black words printed on the thick flaxen pages. The movement of the car frame over the cracked pavement made it hard to focus. That and the silence laced with solemn seriousness.

The Elite focused on their duty of protecting their charge, thinking of little else. Each one kept his or her face locked toward the windows, eyes scanning the road and landscape in all directions. Ty and Morton shared brooding glances with one another, each of them concerned with some matter they were not ready to discuss in present company, but one that marred their enjoyment of any companionship. Ty was all work, anyway. Axandra wondered if he ever relaxed. And Morton just plain disliked her. Axandra made many attempts since her arrival to make herself more appealing to the Head of Council, futile as they were. Soon, she promised herself to stop expending the energy to try.

Miri was the only one not consumed by her duties at the moment. The young woman worked on a needle point of a name bordered by vibrant flowers.

Axandra chose to break the unbearable silence, speaking to her aide. “What are you working on, Miri?”

“It's for my niece,” she explained. “She was just born last Tinsday. I've been working on it for months.” Miri passed the work to Axandra to examine.

“It's lovely,” Axandra praised as she studied the threads. The stitches looked perfect. Nothing seemed uneven or out of place.

“I've made several for friends and family.”

“Is it your own pattern?”

“Yes. I took this idea from the Palace garden,” Miri blushed slightly, then gestured for the hoop. “I still have trouble with a few stitches, and I know I have much to learn about patterns and colors. I wish I could stitch one like the tapestries that hang in the Palace.”

“Tapestries are woven, dear,” Nancy informed her condescendingly.

“I know, but I would like to stitch one. The work would be something different.” Miri looked dreamily out the window for a brief moment, then returned to her stitches.

Nancy cleared her throat and began to go over the itinerary for the next few hours days.

“When we reach Range End, the Principal will greet us and take us to our accommodations. There is an inn there, so we will all be housed in the same location. We'll change and head to dinner in the square. The entire community will be there and probably some out-of-towners. Before the meal, you'll give your small speech—the one we prepared last week.”

Axandra nodded. She'd memorized and practiced the words of the blessing but she didn't feel right saying them, especially the end “… and all will be well.” Simple words, but she felt them untruthful. She sensed that matters were not going well at all. First the murder, then the strange news that the Believers at the Northland Landing claimed to have witnessed a light—what to them was the Goddess—to which a new flush of recruits gathered to worship.