Call of the Goddess: A Bona Dea Novel (Stormflies Book 1) (10 page)

The Goddess had not gone there that night. At no time did Axandra believe it left her body. With its constant mental interruptions and the physical presence of it weighing on her head, she felt certain she would notice its absence. Nor did she believe it could exit her for quick jaunts about the world. The presence was so entwined with her physical being now, she feared that only death could separate them.

So what
thing
had appeared?

The event worried her just as deeply as the murder. Three hundred people attested to the appearance of the light. Was it a new life form? Did it come from a far away planet to this one that teemed with life? Humans no longer doubted alien life, though they had not crossed anything with the human level of intelligence or capability. Many animals on this world possessed considerable, though wild, intelligence, such as the sea mammals, the curana.

Axandra could not shake the sensation that something watched her from nearby. Like that first visit to the Palace garden, she sensed a presence just on the margins of her mind. The Goddess reacted defensively, sending out defensive vibrations to warn the intruder away. The presence never came close enough for clarity. Over the last three weeks, Axandra sensed the nearness four distinct times in different locations. The mind behind the presence remained watchful for now.

“They will want us to stay up for drinks, but I suggest we turn in by nine. We have another long trip to Midsouthton tomorrow for another dinner and a concert. Then another five hours over to Lazzonir the next day. We'll stay two nights there before the eight hour trip home.”

“Lazzonir is the Southland Landing site, correct?” Axandra quizzed. Hence the two-day stay. They planned to tour the site for several hours. She looked forward to that portion of the trip. She had only ever been to the Eastland Landing when she was four—she barely remembered what the place looked like. All of the Landings had been converted into museums and libraries, open places for the citizens to view the history of the Journey and reach back to their ancestors. Axandra hoped to see what Old Earth looked like in the past, and perhaps learn to understand why the Journeyers left behind their home with hopes of starting something new.

Though ten generations removed from those travelers, Axandra nurtured a healthy interest in their history. Choosing to leave one's home and never return was possibly the bravest action any person could ever take. The fact that so many had left in search of a place to make a safe home and having no idea what they would even find when they got there was an incredible feat.

And now she had memories from the Goddess to fuel her fascination with the past. The Goddess gave her many glimpses of life aboard star-spanning ships—brief though they were. Centuries of information was now stored inside her. She would never know it all.

“Yes. But we may be sharing it with a large contingent of Believers,” stated Ty. He sat stiffly in his gray uniform. The gold circles appliquéd on the breast sparkled in the rays of the midday suns even though the darkened glass of the windows muted the light. “We have been informed of large gatherings at all of the Landings, awaiting another appearance of the Goddess.”

The Protectress glanced toward Nancy, who kept her eyes on Ty. They would get an appearance, but they would not know it.

“That is their right, as long as they do so peacefully,” the Morton allowed. Any group of citizens could peaceably assemble without permission, even in light of a special visitor.

Ty pledged, “I will keep them under observation.”

They all fell silent as the travel continued. Axandra set aside her neglected book and returned her gaze to the terrain passing on the mountain side of the car. The peaks grew shorter and more worn. Jagged rocks gave way to soft slopes covered with feathering grasses and bushy shrubs. She let her mind wander to less corporeal ideas, allowing herself to float away with the icy clouds in the stratosphere.

9th Pentember, 307

Lazzonir, the village, mirrored its name from the space faring ship that led the Landing in the South. That vessel was named for its designer and primary funder, Paul Lazzonir. Each of the dozen generation craft used in the Journey was unique in design and construction. Across Earth, groups of individuals with unique mental gifts, independent of each other, designed and stocked the vessels. Just months before many of the ships planned to launch, the groups discovered each other, each seeking the same freedom, and began to collaborate, picking these stars and this world on which to set foot.

Fleeing persecution by the Normals, as they called the non-telepaths of the day, the collection of pilgrims left Earth forever and hoped, by some twist of fate, that they might actually reach a new world to call home and to shape as they desired. Those who began the Journey never saw its end, over one hundred years in their future.

Rolling into the village, the Protectress and her companions were at once surprised and dismayed by the massive numbers gathered in the streets. The Believers recently recruited many new worshippers, all awaiting a glimpse of the Goddess. The wide streets teemed with people, almost to the point that the cars could not pass safely. The cars paused for a moment and the Elite climbed out. The five intimidating guards began politely but firmly clearing a path.

Seeing the Elite, the Believers immediately recognized who rode in the cars and began to move closer. If the Protectress was here, then the Goddess would come. They tried to see into the tinted windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Protectress.

Axandra sensed that most of the onlookers were harmless, their minds still wrapping around the idea of the Goddess incarnate. They hoped only for a chance to feel the euphoria the Northlanders described, a taste of utter happiness. Yet their proximity gave Axandra a nervous itch. Despite the fact that they could not see in, she pulled back from the glass.

In front of the inn, the entourage climbed out of the cars and headed inside with their luggage. The early afternoon suns shortened their shadows. They had plenty of time to relax before the next dinner.

Two Elite went straight to bed. Assigned to night duty, they watched the inn while the others slept. The other two claimed their stations outside the Protectress' suite. Ty disappeared somewhere, presumably to his own accommodations, but also likely, off somewhere with Morton.

After Miri set up the room, Axandra lay down on the soft bed, thinking she would also fall asleep. Despite the cushions in the cars, the potholes still jarred her bones and the strain of trying to keep herself steady exhausted her pampered muscles. She decided she needed to find a way to retain her muscle tone that had always been naturally firm simply from performing the labors of her typical day. Sitting and talking did not provide for much exercise.

Instead of being able to rest, the surge of minds outside kept her awake. So many focused on her. She found it difficult to shut them out. Through the glass, she could hear them chanting in a low rumble of voices.

We are your chosen ones. Oh Goddess of our hearts. Come to us (we need you)

We feel you near and ask you to give your grace. Forgive us our sins (we have few)

Comfort our Souls and we will give ourselves to you freely.

Let us see your face! (the Goddess's face!)

Stray thoughts filtered in, jumbled with their words. The horde pushed down every defense she could muster. She looked down upon an amassing crowd of people in the avenue, their faces raised toward her room. Their lips moved as they continued to make their prayers.

I see her! (she is beautiful)

There! (in the window)

Come to us! We want to touch you! Be our strength!

She gasped and moaned, overwhelmed by their sentiments. As more of them arrived, the din rose in volume.

As though on cue—for she had just thought to seek out the Healer—a knock came at the door of her modest suite. The Healer announced herself.

“Come in,” Axandra allowed. She stepped away from the window. When did I get up from bed? she wondered. The suns cast dual shadows of her across the polished wood floor. The glare blinded her to the dark areas of the room. The light shot pain through her skull. She rubbed her temples and covered her eyes with her hand.

“They are affecting everyone,” Eryn informed. The thin woman stepped inside and closed the wooden door behind her, sealing them in mock privacy. She slipped off her pouch and set it on a small table near the door. Before she retrieved anything from the kitbag, she asked Axandra to sit on the bed.

“May I touch you?” Eryn asked politely.

Axandra nodded. One of her ears rang with a high-pitched stinging noise. She rubbed her finger against the small knob of cartilage, pressing closed the hole, but the ringing did not stop.

To heal among a telepathic race, the Healers trained to heal more than the body. The honor of Healing required more than a decade of training and an inherently strong telepathic nature. Adolescents were usually chosen to begin the training as early as age fifteen. Not all completed the rigorous education. The service was honored almost as much as that of the Protectress and commanded a great deal of respect from the community. A Healer's needs were provided without question.

Very gently but with purpose, Eryn touched Axandra's hands, which rested on her lap as she sat. She watched as the Healer slowly rotated the hands palm up and massaged the pale, soft portions, holding each just a few centims above her legs.

“Look at my face,” Eryn instructed, her voice taking on a lower pitch and softer tone. “I will come into your mind only to dam the flow. You may have your eyes open or closed. Trust that I will not intrude where you do not wish me to go.”

“I trust you.” The massage relaxed her arms and helped focus her mind. Eryn's hands felt cool and luxuriously soft.

Axandra let her eyes close, her last vision Eryn's green eyes looking directly into her.

The static in her mind filled her ears and her eyes with fuzzy and dizzying white. Flashes of color painted her eyelids. Figures blurred together. Laughing and crying flew into her from the minds surrounding her.

Come to us,
they continued to call

Then a small green circle of color appeared in the center. The circle had undefined edges at first and was barely larger than a pinhead. Axandra latched onto it. The circle was Eryn.

Without words, the outer arc clarified and the circle expanded, pushing away the maelstrom little by little. There was no telling how much time passed as the circle grew in miniscule bits. Time remained irrelevant inside the mind.

As the green circle expanded, the noise in Axandra's ears faded in volume until all she could hear was breathing. Involuntarily, she sighed. The relief felt almost as overwhelming as the onslaught of minds had been. Her body and her room became very quiet.

Opening her eyes, she found Eryn still watching her and still clasping her hands.

Your mind is very strong,
Eryn shared her thoughts, her mental voice an echo of her physical one.
You would have made a fine Healer.

I was asked,
Axandra responded silently.
I declined. I was not up to the challenge.

Eryn's lips curved slightly in a smile. She understood.

Rest now, the dam should hold through the morning.

With her arm, Eryn supported Axandra's back as she settled onto the mattress and pillows.

+++

Dinner with the Governor
of Southland that evening passed in a less than pleasant way. While Axandra and her companions received relief from their Healer, the village's own Healers failed to keep up with the demand for aid. Every resident of the village suffered the irritating effects of the swarm of Believers.

Mark Tornedon, the regional governor, sat at the head of the table, bleary-eyed.

“We allowed them to come, but we didn't know there would be so many. We aren't equipped to care for the needs of so many people,” he told them. “They didn't bring anything into our community but their ideas, but we've given them all we can. They've been here only five days, and we've almost exhausted our resources.”

He barely ate his dinner of grilled freshwater fish and boiled grains mixed with spicy red and yellow peppers. He rubbed a hand up across his hollow face into his thin blonde hair. His skin was very tan from spending time outdoors. He told them he often rafted on the rapids in the Range River that ran nearby, when he wasn't serving as governor. His short sleeves displayed hardened muscles and a line between his tan and the skin that spent most of the time covered.

“I haven't slept well for the last three nights because of them.”

“Have they explained what they're expecting to see?” asked Antonette. Lazzonir was her home town and she was familiar with its ways. She expressed great agitation at the invasion of the religious fanatics.

“The Goddess!” Tornedon moaned, his eyes rolling up. “I hoped they would be disappointed enough to leave by now. If they are not on the way out by the time you leave, Protectress, I will have to ask them depart.”

“You must do what is necessary for your community,” Axandra approved, as she sensed he sought agreement from a higher power. Once a group began to cause harm, they could be dispersed. “What supplies do you need replenished? We should organize relief.”

Tornedon beamed, pleased with the offer as he leaned his right arm on the table toward her. “We have plenty of drinkable water, but we have little left of food. While having this dinner for you, Protectress, many have nothing but bread and meager pickings from a garden or two. Some of the visitors do not appear to have eaten for days. The Healers are overrun just making rounds on them. A few extra healing hands would be beneficial as well.”

Councilor Lelle tapped her stubby fingers on the dark wood tabletop. “If only we could give them what they want.”

Axandra inhaled a sip of wine down her windpipe and hacked loudly. Her throat burned from the alcohol. She recovered quickly by clearing her throat and giving a little tap to her chest. A wave of anxiety swept hotly through her torso, mixed with the concerns of her entourage that she might be choking.

“What nonsense—this goddess!” Antonette continued, mumbling somewhat—perhaps an effect of the wine. “Never seen any proof she exists. They're just wasting time they should be devoting to their own communities.”

“Is there anything else we can do, Mr. Tornedon?” Axandra returned her focus to the needs of the village.

“We just need to get back in harmony again,” he said, satisfied. “You will still visit the Landing tomorrow?”

“Yes. I am looking forward to it,” Axandra promised. She was still excited for the moment, at least for the historical perspective. The crowd would still be there, still focused on her and the Goddess they believed would show herself.

Dinner ended at that point, and everyone returned to their rooms at the inn. Ty instructed them to meet at ten in the morning to walk to the Landing, less than a mile away. The later start would give everyone a chance to sleep in and have breakfast on their own.

Miri helped Axandra get ready for a bath and bed, packing away today's clothes and setting out tomorrow's. The aide carefully put away the jewelry Axandra wore that day, including the amethyst amulet she donned in honor of visiting the land of its origin.

“Miri, may I ask you a somewhat personal question?”

The blonde puffed out a short laugh, her straight hair falling over her shoulder as she bent to pack a pair of shoes. “You may, Madam. May I have permission not to answer?”

“That's fair,” Axandra agreed. She offered a warm smile. It was probably quite unfair for the Protectress to ask anyone personal questions when she was supposed to hear and know everything.

“Do you believe in the Goddess?” she asked the young woman, her tone inquisitive and carefully non-judgmental.

Miri slowed in her work and pondered if she would answer. “I do,” she said at last, folding a jacket and pressing it into the trunk. “I used to belong to the Believers sect in Eastland, but it lost its magic after a couple of years. We never witnessed the Goddess or any type of miracles, so I gave up spending my time waiting for her. It seemed wasteful.”

“But you did not lose your belief.” Axandra noted.

“No. I still believe she existed and that she had a great influence in bringing our people here.” Miri looked wistfully toward the stars outside in the darkening sky, absently caressing the silk of the tunic in her hands. “If she still exists, she is probably far away from here, helping another species in their darkest hour. It's selfish to think she exists only for us. May I ask you the same question?”

Axandra should have expected to be caught in a trap of her own making. Miri was quite bold to ask, and this made her blush. She didn't feel prepared to answer.

Miri came to her at the vanity mirror and began to brush her dark, spiraling hair. Axandra noticed how long the strands had grown, half-way down her back. She decided a haircut was in order when they returned to Undun, to bring her tresses under control again.

“I used to wonder why people needed to believe in something larger than themselves or more powerful than the community,” Axandra explained as she watched in the mirror's reflection. Miri deftly braided her hair in neat, uniform plaits. “I don't believe in a self-conscious, omnipotent being in the sky.”

Finished with the braid and the conversation, Miri excused herself for the evening.

Axandra soaked in her bath for several minutes, cleaning off the residue of the last couple of days travel, that grimy feeling that comes from sitting in a car for hours. The warm water soothed tension from her muscles. With her mind free of others' thoughts, thanks to Eryn's ministrations, and the discomfort of the body fading away, her thoughts drifted back to her old life. She stepped into a memory of walking along the beach in the evening, the suns, one yellow, one blue, descending into the open Ocean. Dry warm sands brushed between her toes while she walked barefoot, her sandals dangling from her fingers. In the memory, she walked the beach alone.