Clockwork Goddess (The Lesbia Chronicles)

CLOCKWORK GODDESS

by Loki Renard

(Chronicles of Lesbia)

http://sapphosbrats.com

Cover art by ValentinaPhotos, BigstockPhoto.com

All Rights Reserved.

Copyright Loki Renard 2015.

Chapter One

Heat from flames made ends of golden hair streaked with lighter strands of gray turn up into tight little fizzing coils. The forest witch sat before the hearth as she had so very many times before and dropped chopped herbs into a potionous blend which bubbled and churned with pleasing vigor. The witch's robes were in a similarly relaxed state to that of her hair, parted almost to the navel and revealing ample bosom as they did. The witch had lived more years than any other in Lesbia, but one would not have known it to look at her. She was as seductive as she was kind, and as dangerous to those who might cross her as she was skilled in the arts of magic.

A heavy handed knock at the door heralded the arrival of an old friend. A friend so old that once she had knocked, she wasted no time in coming in. The door creaked open, and the many hundreds of days which had passed between that moment and their last meeting seemed to fade in an instant.

"Ayla," Kira said, stepping sideways through the door which was far too narrow to allow her armored shoulders to pass through squarely. "It is I."

"It is you," Ayla agreed, dusting her hands from the fire and rising with a warm smile. Her beautiful, wise face lit up with pleasure as she greeted her guest, a warrior of such consummate skill and fame that the great goddess Ariadne had blessed her with something close to eternal life. Though she was a hundred years old, Kira stood with the same strong stature she had seventy years prior, her long limbs retaining every bit of their power. Her face had likewise remained handsome, dark brown eyes set somewhat narrowly in tanned skin which crinkled at the corners as she smiled.

"I have something for you," the warrior declared. "I warn you, it is most vexing."

"Oh yes?"

"I have been putting together a group of sorts," Kira said vaguely, beginning the explanation of the vexing thing...

"You have been creating an army," Ayla corrected her dryly. "It is the talk of Lesbia."

"Just a small one," Kira said, pinching thumb and forefinger together. "Just a little smidge of an army. An armlette, you might say."

Ayla crossed her arms under her ample, barely clad bosom and lifted a brow in Kira's direction. The expression on her witchly face strongly indicated that the warrior's attempts to play down her role in what was starting to look like all out civil war were not convincing.

"I have the goddess on my side," Kira finally said. "All will be well."

"Having Ariadne on your side is like keeping an nest of adders in your undergarments," Ayla said. "A formidable ally, yes, but far too close for comfort."

"Ariadne would not like to hear you speak that way."

Ayla's shoulders moved in a very slight, almost imperceptible shrug, a motion which imparted a complete and utter lack of caring on her part.

"Anyway," Kira said, scratching her nose though it did not itch, "I met a someone on my travels, a somebody, if you will..."

"It's not like you to be coy," Ayla interjected once more.

"She proved to be quite unsuitable for my purposes," Kira said, "but I thought she might suit yours." Extending an arm out the still open door, Kira invited Ayla to look.

A nearly naked woman was bound up by the bushes, hair the color of bracken falling to her shoulders and completely failing to obscure her neat round breasts which bounced and jigged with every annoyed motion she made. She was wearing a scrap of a loincloth which did nothing to cover the rounds of her bottom, which were very ample indeed. Other than that, she appeared to have been well fed. It was impossible to tell if she was pretty or not, for her face was contorted in an expression of extreme annoyance.

"Why does she not suit your purposes? She seems sturdy enough."

"Every time she has the opportunity, she removes her clothing. It is distracting to the others."

"Distracting," Ayla murmured. "Yes, I imagine it would be."

"There's another one too," Kira said. "Where did she go?"

The other one was standing by a tree, arms folded over her chest. She was a plain young woman wearing a very unflattering dress and an expression which strongly indicated that she was not impressed by Kira, nor Ayla, nor the naked bound woman. Her bad attitude was a palpable force which permeated the very air itself. Kira said nothing about the 'other' one. She did not need to.

"Is there a sign above my door which says "insubordinate brat storage?" Ayla made the inquiry gently.

"There is not," Kira said. "But these two, have seen things they should not have seen. I cannot send them back to their families knowing what they know. They would be at risk. Lives would be at stake."

"So you bring them to me in the hopes that I will babysit them until you're done waging war with the queen?"

Kira's expression brightened. "I knew you'd understand."

Kira made her apologies and took her leave quite quickly. Time was of the essence. War was at hand. There were things to do. Judging by the speed at which she mounted her waiting steed and rode away, the first of those things was to get as far away from the two she had left at Ayla's cottage as possible.

Sighing to herself, Ayla did the bound woman the honor of untying her. "What is your name?"

"I am Moon Stargaze," the naked woman declared, stretching her limbs. "I dance with the trees and I float on the breeze and I partake of herbs of all kinds."

Ayla nodded, absorbing the information as she lifted her eyes to her other guest. "And you? What is your name?"

"They call me Vix," the other woman replied. "Because I vix things."

There was something curious about Vix, a certain seriousness which was uncommon in those who came to Ayla's door. Together, the women made a strange pairing. One clearly objected to wearing clothes, the other wore clothing but paid less attention to it than the one who would not wear it. The dress Vix wore was made for a woman at least twice her size and hung loosely over her breasts. Her hips were in there somewhere, probably. It was hard to tell, for the sweeping hem of the dress obscured her body all the way to her toes.

"What did you do before you were recruited, Vex?"

"I was a hengineer," Vix said proudly. "I made mechanical chickens. I was studying to become a civil hengineer."

"To make mechanical chickens for cities?

"No," Vix frowned. "To make the mechanical chickens more polite."

Ayla gave Vix a questioningly dour look. Vix looked back at her, her expression unchanging and serious. Mechanical chickens were no joking matter, so it seemed.

"I was a herbalist," Moon said, stretching her arms out so that her breasts were pressed high to the sky. She arched her back and stretched one leg out, pointing her toes as she gracefully performed a slow backwards handstand which displayed every part of her body. It was quite an enchanting sight, for her womanhood was bounded by soft golden down and moved ever so prettily as she rolled herself back up and around to a standing position

"So I have a herbalist and a hengineer at my home," Ayla murmured, recovering some of her composure. "Won't you come inside?"

"I do not care for inside," Moon replied. "I like outside. Outside where the sky is wide."

"I will not come inside either," Vix said. "I will return home and tend my flock."

"You are still soldiers in Kira's armlette," Ayla reminded them. "And she has left you here, under my command."

Vix and Moon exchanged glances. "You are technically correct," Vix conceded, "which is the best kind of correct."

"I like your aura," Moon said. "It shimmers. How did you get it to do that?"

"I can't imagine," Ayla said, opening the door and ushering her guests inside.

Once indoors, the women took seats at Ayla's table. They looked at one another with a certain amount of significance, seeming to share some similar thought.

"I'm afraid I wasn't prepared for guests," Ayla apologized. "But there are beds in the other room, and I can prepare some soup if you are hungry."

The offer of soup was met with a positive response. Whilst Ayla prepared the meal, Vix sat at the table and began whittling a little wheel resplendent with triangular cogs from materials carried in the pockets of her voluminous dress.

"What are you making?"

"The soul of a mechanical chicken," Vix said, "the inner cogs and wheels, the clockwork of creation."

"Mhm," Ayla said. "And what role did your clockwork chickens play in Kira's little army?"

"I did not make chickens for Kira," Vix said, raising dark ominous eyes up to Ayla. "Kira wanted something bigger."

"Something much bigger," Moon giggled under her breath, hiding her smile but not much else of her anatomy. She was blessed with a beauteous body, well kept by the frequent ingestion of herbs to the exclusion of most anything else. Though Ayla maintained a respectful demeanor, it was impossible not to notice the curve of her breasts, the smooth line of her stomach, the way her abdominal muscle narrowed as it made its way down toward the short scrap of fabric which preserved the vestiges of her modesty.

It seemed to Ayla that there was some secret between the two women, a shared knowledge which they were not inclined to pass on. Their frequent glances and occasional smiles told her that much. They were up to something, as was Kira, as was Ariadne, as was the queen all the way up in her Clitera City castle. Lesbia was full of women doing things they shouldn't.

The soup was soon ready. Ayla served it to her guests and returned to her seat by the fire. She was in a pensive mood. Yet again the world was calling her to do her duty. She would have preferred to have been left out of this latest conflict, for one conflict was very much like another and she had seen enough to last a lifetime.

Vix and Moon ate whilst still having a silent conversation with their eyes. There was a heaviness in the air, the weight of serious concerns as yet unaired.

"Do you have my pipe?" Moon asked the question.

Vix did have her pipe. She produced a long wooden pipe from the folds of her dress along with a bag of herbs and handed both to Moon. Moon packed the pipe with a practiced touch and offered it to Ayla.

"Would you like to go first?"

"What is it?"

"Forest weed," Moon said apologetically, "hard to get the good stuff these days. There's a war on."

Ayla would normally have refused the pipe, but an instinctive impulse drove her to accept. She took the pipe from Moon, lit the herbs and began drawing on the stem. Rich, floral scented smoke filled her mouth and thence her lungs, bringing with it a sense of calm. It was pleasant to sit and smoke, even though she did so with strangers bearing secrets. After a few puffs, she passed the pipe to Moon, who likewise took several draws, then handed it to Vix, who also drew deeply on the pipe.

"You live alone," Vix said, her dark eyes locking on Ayla as smoke curled languidly out her nostrils.

Though Vix was not possessed of traditional beauty, Ayla was already beginning to see her in a different light. Her nose was long, but strong, her eyes were full of intelligence and though her brows were bushy and her face a little too long and narrow, her chin too pointed, there was a strength of character in it. Her cheekbones were quite high, and perhaps with the right application of rouges and powders she might have appealed more to the eye, but it was apparent that Vix was not interested in appealing to the eye.

"I do," Ayla said.

"It is difficult to live alone, unless one very much likes her solitude. In which case, we must have invaded it."

"You are welcome," Ayla reassured her guest with a soft smile. "Anyone important to Kira is important to me."