Call of the Goddess: A Bona Dea Novel (Stormflies Book 1) (11 page)

She realized this wasn't a single memory, but a collection of several, similar moments when Jon left her at home alone in the evening or for the night while he stayed in town. She never viewed her companion's absence as loneliness. Those evenings gave her freedom to eat simply, since Jon usually insisted on cooking meals with several courses. Nor did she feel tied to make conversation with him. He typically talked about the townsfolk—who was up to what and when and what others were saying about each other. His mind did not open to discussions about literature or history or even musings about the sky or the ocean. He hadn't read a single full book since she had met him. He only read the few pages of the local gossip sheet passed out at the tavern each week.

What did we ever have in common?
she wondered.

After a while she climbed out of the deep tub, dried the moisture from her skin and shimmied into a algodon nightgown, comforted by the coolness of the fabric on her skin. Feeling exhausted and weak, she burrowed beneath the soft covers of the bed and listened to the chirping insects outside the open windows.

While Eryn's “dam” held, she dreamed in green hues. But she dreamed of Jon. He was smiling with her, making love to her, laughing with her. Then he was gone. She saw him walking away down the village street—only they weren't in the sea-side village. She recognized the structures of Lazzonir. He walked toward the derelict spaceships, dressed in a long drab robe.

She hurried toward him, calling his name. She touched his shoulder, but as the figure turned to her, it wasn't him anymore. A stranger looked at her, perhaps one of the faces that infringed on her mind earlier that day. Others came. Smiling with sickeningly sweet passion, bodies in drab robes surrounded her. Her body prickled, every hair standing on end.

Fear! Fear! FEAR!

Pale hands groped her, the fingers pinching her skin, tangling in her hair. Spinning, she slapped at them, knocking some away. She could not deflect them all. Her limbs became entrapped by their hands. They pulled her in every direction, stretching her joints—

Waking, she found the room cast in the purplish glow, the mix of the gray and red hued moons. A bright swatch of stars bisected the sky.

A silhouette blocked a portion of the stars, ambulating in jerking motions as it climbed in through the open window.

She froze, staring at the figure, squinting to see some detail.

It is you (she is here)

Who are you?
she asked of the figure whose mind infringed upon hers. She extended tendrils of her mind to touch the stranger.
Stop where you are. Don't come any closer!

Arms outstretched, he did not stop moving toward her.
I want to touch you (feel your power) Do not run (stay, stay, stay!)

“Help!” Axandra shouted at once, her heart jumping in her chest. As the intruder reached for her she rolled from bed, hitting the floor on her stomach and knocking the wind from her lungs. The covers twisted around her body, trapping her arms and legs. Thrashing her limbs, she worked herself free even as she heard the bed frame clatter. The arm of the stranger loomed from above, touching her face.

Scrambling to her feet, she sprinted for the door, which exploded inward toward her. Struck squarely in the forehead, she now saw stars inside her room. Knocked backward by the force, she hit the wooden planks of the floor a second time, leading with her elbow. Pain shot through both halves of her arm.

The light from the hallway illuminated the floor. The Elite lunged in with aggressive grunts. While one grabbed her up from the floor and shoved her outside the room, the other blocked the attacker and quickly subdued him, wasting little effort on wrestling the thin figure to the floor. The first continued to shield the Protectress with his body, pinning her roughly against the wall opposite her room. She could not see past his barricade and the flashing lights in her eyes. Gasping, she shielded her face from the bright lights of the corridor.

The councilors and others spilled into the hallway from their rooms, checking on the commotion. Narone and the other two Elite pounded up the stairs, fully dressed. Ty reviewed the scene, seeing that the Protectress was out of harm's way. Then he went into the room where the intruder was held.

Rescuing her from the almost crushing protection of the guard, Eryn grabbed her by the arm and steered her down the hall, an Elite close behind. They went to the Healer's suite, where Eryn closed the door, leaving the guard outside.

Shaking, Axandra could hardly breathe. She paced the floor in her bare feet, shaking her hands at her sides, trying to catch her breath. Pain still shot through her skull. Touching her brow, she felt the lump forming.

Eryn touched her without asking permission, hoping to help her gain control, but instead the touch only worsened the anxiety.

“No!” Axandra heard herself shriek, though the rational part of her mind begged that Eryn help her.

Instead, Eryn used the connection formed earlier that day—touching her mind, pushing calm in place of fear like a levee between the river and the land.

Slowing her pace, Axandra sensed the instinct to fight or flee diminish. Her breathing steadied. Instead of pacing, she clenched and unclenched her hands slowly. She moved involuntarily in this manner, pieces of her still feeling the urge to run.

“You are fine, Protectress,” Eryn spoke firmly. Without a single touch, the Healer coaxed her to settle on the tousled covers of the bed.

The green shade in Axandra's brain, the color of Eryn's eyes, pulsed in a lulling effect, blocking other outside influences. “Settle down, please. Breathe deeply. That's good. Let me see where you're hurt. Careless guards,” Eryn muttered, examining the head injury visually. “They should have sensed you behind the door.”

At some point, Miri arrived. She brought hot tea and a robe for her mistress, along with a cold pack for the bump on the Protectress' head. Eryn convinced Axandra to drink, placing the mug in her spasming hands. Then Eryn instructed Miri to hold the ice to the growing lump over Axandra's right eyebrow.

“What if I hadn't woken up,” Axandra kept sputtering. “Why did he come in? Who is he?”

She felt relieved to be alive and relatively unharmed. But even realizing this did not calm her agitation any further. Her tea rippled above her quivering hands, threatening to spill over the lip of the cup. She stared at the dark surface of the liquid frightened and embarrassed by her lack of control. She'd never been given a reason to feel so frightened in all her life.

After a few sips, Axandra noticed that the tea helped calm her nerves. Eryn must have slipped an herb into her drink to help sedate her. She felt slightly unnatural, like her head was filled with hot air. Blinking forcefully, she attempted to clear the unwelcome state of mind. The strangeness enveloping her did not change, but wavered around her as though she were underwater.

“Ty will be here shortly to ask questions,” Eryn explained while she got dressed in pants and a light shirt.

“I can't even think,” Axandra complained. Even the steam of the tea tranquillized her nerves. She handed the mug to Miri to discard the rest, refusing anything else from the aide's tray, distrustful of the contents.

Ty arrived a few moments later and asked without pretense what transpired. Axandra explained how she awoke to see a figure coming through the window and escaped his reach. “The guards acted amazingly fast,” she praised when she had finished her description. “Though too fast for me to stay clear of the door.”

“They will be commended,” Ty promised, then he revealed what he had learned from the intruder. “He carried no weapon. He claims he wished only to touch you, that it might bring the Goddess to them. He says he came with others to the inn, but they did not enter. They must have fled when you screamed, because we found no other intruders.”

“Believers?”

“It would appear so. I suggest we cancel the visit to the Landing tomorrow—”

“No,” Axandra protested, raising a halting hand between them. “It will send the wrong message.”

“But it will keep you safe,” Ty argued. Safety first, apologies later, his thought came to her as words he would not say. She was certain he did not intend for her to hear them.

“Postpone it until later then, but we're going. I will not run away from them. They are still my people,” Axandra stated staunchly, allowing no room for further argument, even though her insides still quivered with fear. If she gave into those fears, she would have ordered them all home right that moment.

Ty resigned from the argument. “Noon, after lunch,” he proposed. “I will secure the location personally before you arrive.”

“Very well. After lunch.” Nodding curtly, she accepted his compromise.

Ty turned to Eryn. “Healer, I respectfully request your assistance.”

“Certainly.” Eryn nodded. “Please, Protectress, make use of my room to sleep. Excuse us.”

Sleep seemed the farthest thing from Axandra's mind as she sat there, her thoughts still a jumble of the dark images, the man coming at her and not knowing what he planned to do. She watched them leave with her brow furrowed anxiously.

Miri, gentle and persistent, convinced Axandra after several minutes to lie down. Doing so, she soon felt her eyelids grow heavy. She insisted the lamp stay on. She stared at the window, half expecting someone to climb in. Miri sat nearby keeping watch.

+++

Ty took Eryn
back to the Protectress' room, where the Elite detained the intruder. The Healer was not certain what she expected to see, but she understood what the Commander expected her to do.

The robed man sat slumped on the bed under full lighting. He appeared to be about thirty-five years old, his hair sandy in color and his skin smooth and lightly colored like that of someone who spent most of his time indoors. His eyes appeared sunken, and the bones of his wrists protruded sharply due to deterioration of muscle and fat tissue. No wonder it had been so easy for one Elite to apprehend him. Hearing soft noises from the captive, she realized he wept, his chin touching his chest as he slobbered with tears.

“I wasn't going to hurt her,” he mumbled over and over again through his sobs. “I would never hurt her. Please believe me.”

He spoke at the two Elite who guarded him, one standing at the doorway and the other at the window to prevent any attempts to escape. Eryn doubted he was in any shape to make such an attempt due to his weakened condition and by the fact that the guards had tied his wrists together behind his back.

“Sir, this is Healer Gray. If you will allow, she will be able to verify your claim and you will be set free.”

The man raised his eyes to the tall woman, squinting through his tears to see her more clearly. He sniffled and, frowning, shook his head. “No. No, I can't let her in my mind. Only the Goddess can enter my mind. This woman will stain me.”

“Sir,” Eryn spoke, “I will not go anywhere you do not wish. I have taken my vows and adhere to them.” She spoke in assuring tones and emanated trust to him. She met resistance to even her light projections.

Still he shook his head. His entire body trembled and he looked away. “No. No Believer lets anyone but the Goddess and her chosen in his mind. Bring her here and she will know the truth.”

Ty refused with a harsh tone. “That will not be possible, and you know it. Healer, you may stay if you wish.”

“Clearly this man needs physical attention,” Eryn stated, still concerned about the man's malnourished appearance. She addressed the stranger again, moving herself in front of him, more deeply into his field of vision.

“What is your name?”

“Carter,” the man answered.

“If you will allow me, Carter, I will tend only to your physical needs.”

Again, he looked at her, breathing heavily and rapidly so that his shoulders moved up and down in massive heaves. New tears swelled in his eyes. He nodded that he would allow this. “I don't feel well. I haven't had food in three days. The locals have begun to refuse us any meals. I will not steal, but others have taken from the gardens. They anger the Goddess. They are why she will not appear to us. She does not abide stealing for any reason.”

Eryn knelt in front Carter, careful to view his symptoms without touching his flesh. She asked if she could touch his hands briefly with her mind closed. He grudgingly agreed. She checked his fingernails, pressing them down so that the pale pinks turned white. The veins beneath his skin glowed blue and raised the thinning epidermis. “The Governor tells us that there is no food left to give you,” she explained. “The village stores are not stocked to supply so many people.”

“He lies,” spat the man. “They have food. We saw the dinner they prepared for you. They shouldn't let people starve.”

Eryn ascertained that his only ailment was the lack of food and politely ordered one of the Elite to locate at least a loaf of bread. When the bread arrived, she oversaw that he ate a portion of it, then wrapped the rest in a clean towel for him to take.

“Commander, I believe the man is speaking the truth,” Eryn announced to everyone in the room. “His demeanor is that of a true Believer, and they have an even stricter set of rules than the rest of us regarding harm to another. You should set him free. Carter, please tell your companions that we regret their situation. Unfortunately, we will not be able to provide them with that which they seek most.”

“But the Goddess is here,” he pleaded with her to understand, his brown eyes turned upward to her, searching her for sympathy. “If only we could speak with the Protectress, we could have what we desire.”

“I am sorry. The Protectress cannot help you in this matter.” Eryn expressed herself as clearly as possible, but understood that the man would continue to insist that he was correct. She instructed him to take the bread to his camp and give it first to the children. “I will see if I can locate more,” she promised.

The Commander watched the exchange without expression or comment. He breathed deeply, his nostrils flaring as he considered the situation. “Release him,” Ty ordered his underlings, “and escort him back to his camp. I suggest you inform your companions that this behavior will not be tolerated.”