Call of the Goddess: A Bona Dea Novel (Stormflies Book 1) (17 page)

Here, she opened her eyes, ending the memory and transferring the heat filling her chest to her outstretched fingers. The air appeared to ripple like waves on the water.

Startled by the visual manifestation, she jerked back. The ripples disappeared.

Looking down at her fingers, she squeezed the fingertips together. They felt hot like fire and tingled.

Excitedly, Axandra let out a girlish giggle, amazed that anything happened. Calming herself, she centered her mind again and searched for the power in her body's center.

As the ripple flowed from her fingers again, she focused on expanding the energy, reaching out to the statuette. Slowly, the efflux spread farther until at last the border touched the metal. Abruptly, the tree toppled on its side with a clank. Just as abruptly, she withdrew the force.

The mental work drained her strength quickly. At the same time she felt energized and frightened. A gamut of emotions swirled in her. Such power could be useful and tempting. Rumors and myths circled that the Prophets possessed such abilities, though no one alive admitted ever witnessing the use of them.

Her mother's wrinkled face floated in front of her eyes and she thought of those words again. Was this the Goddess? Did it make these things possible?

The Goddess. Another creature to contend with. What other side-effects would she endure while hosting this creature?

More questions reared, and Axandra had no one to answer them. Maybe Tyrane spoke wisely when he urged her to let the Prophets help with the transition. However, she feared being with them again. Just the thought of Tyrane's face made her spine rigid with alarm.

Again, she felt lonely and lost. She breathed out a frustrated sigh. No one to talk to and nothing to do but wait around. She looked about the sitting room, huffing through her nose and pursing her lips as she sought out something to keep her busy.

She resolved to see what else she could do with this new-found power.

18th September, 307

The Protectress
and her troupe resumed touring the country despite the spreading illness. They headed north, past the tallest of the world's mountains and into rockier country.

Riding in the car with Sara Sunsun, Miri, Eryn and Councilor Homer Spirton, also a native Northlander, Axandra watched as the terrain rose and sharpened, with trees and grass growing sparse. The air became cooler the higher the altitude and latitude. Soon they passed beneath the shadow of the highest peak, Mount Mirage, named after one of the largest ships on the Journey. That very ship rested not far from the base of the mountain, near North Compass, still a couple of hours away.

The women played card games and chatted about things both personal and business.

“Protectress, do you believe the Healers will be able to find a cure to the disease?” Sara asked, her voice soft with concern. She avoided eye contact by studying her hand of cards and rearranging them one by one.

“I have to trust that they will find some kind of treatment,” Axandra replied, watching Sara's long pink face, noting the three small brown moles along her jaw line, a jaw rigid with worry. Sara plainly wore her stress on her features.

Homer snorted. After loading, he shuffled himself to one side of the car, reading a thick book and apparently ignoring the other passengers. His deep voice filled the compartment, indicating he was indeed listening. “Your trust is well placed, Protectress. The Healers have a lot of work to do.”

Axandra rested her cards discreetly on her lap. “I will always feel I need to do more.”

“The Healers Council is already researching many possibilities,” Eryn chimed in. “So far, all indicators point toward a parasitic infection. With our combined resources, we should be able to develop a treatment within a few weeks.”

“That's good to hear,” Axandra agreed, smiling to the Healer gratefully. “Now, about North Compass,” she changed the subject. “I understand that I'll be staying at your home, Sara?”

“Yes. Even with the Landing nearby, we don't get enough casual visitors to justify having a dedicated inn. You, Miri and Eryn will stay with Suzanne and I. The others will be in nearby homes. Suzanne is very excited that you're coming.” Sara's face glowed when she spoke of her partner, and her green eyes sparkled. She was proud of her hometown. “Then tomorrow, we want to take you to the dig.”

“The dig?” Axandra questioned.

“Oh, the archeological dig nearby. They've uncovered something remarkable there, but I won't spoil it. You have to see it.”

The card game fizzled out, so the cards were casually tossed back onto the pile. Sara leaned back in her cushioned seat and peeked out the window.

“Those, Madam,” Sara pointed toward the pink and gray rocks to their west, “are the Spires. They are unique to this region. Upward forces thrust the rock up millennia ago. Limestone has washed away leaving the granite.”

Knife-like protrusions of stone, each one thin and tapered, shot straight into the air in rough rows of ten or so. Some stuck out cock-eyed, but always toward the north.

“Some are over 30 meters tall.”

“They are quite astounding,” Axandra marveled. Looking ahead, she could see the formations far into the distance. “They cover a lot of ground.”

“Yes, right up to the limit of North Compass,” Sara said. Then she pointed out a few other unique marvels of the area, including the pygmy crowngoats that pranced among the Spires, and the crested golden eagle nesting on a flattened outcropping.

“And that is a rockwood,” Sara pointed to a gnarled, twisted tree that looked half dead. “A conifer. They live for hundreds of years, maybe even thousands. That one hasn't changed much since our ancestors landed. There are only a few this large. We've planted many seedlings recently, but it will be lifetimes before they grow to even a few centims around,” Sara explained with a wistful look. “They grow very slowly due to the short growing season.”

“Do you harvest them? The Staff is made of rockwood.” Axandra thought of the Gift that traveled with them in the storage compartment of this car, just as the other Gifts traveled to their respective regions. The wooden Staff felt heavy like rock.

“No. They would be extinct if we did. Only one tree was ever cut down and legends say that took some doing. Your Staff was made from that particular tree,” Sara explained as they passed the solitary tree.

“What else was made from the wood? They are quite thick.” Eryn noted, joining the conversation.

“Well, the main beams of my home are from that tree, as is the table I dine on. They were gifts to the first Councilor and it has been the Councilor's home ever since.”

The village appeared below them in a shallow valley of the foothills. The shadows of the mountains darkened the town early and lanterns burned along the streets.

“We're almost there,” Sara said, just short of cheering. She could hardly wait to reach home. I'm
coming, Suzanne,
Axandra heard Sara's broadcast and blushed at the outpouring of affection Sara threw toward the village.

The cars rolled into North Compass, moving from the gravel-sealed road to carefully placed slabs of slate, each as wide as the car itself. The village sat on a circle rather than a square, with all of the homes front doors facing into the center. At the center stood a bronze statue of a human figure, stylized in sweeping curves. Long arms scooped low as the figure bent its body down in motions of labor. The houses themselves were all built of stone. The oldest, those closest to the center, included metal rafters exposed on the sides of the buildings. Axandra realized that the metal was salvaged from the ships, for it was dark gray in color and some pieces were roughly cut. The special houses were built with exposed timbers bracing the stones—the lumber of the rockwood tree. The rest used metal supports made of new materials mined from the caves and blended into strong but lightweight alloys.

The residents of the village stopped their activities as the cars passed by. Many were smithies, working the metals into versatile objects such as tools and frames for furniture and parts for the electric cars and busses that operated across the continent. There were also spinners and weavers, using the wool from native dardaks and goats collected through the year. Some repaired homes. Others cultivated gardens, eking out the last crops before winter for preserving.

“The community has a very nice greenhouse on the southeast edge of town,” Sara described. “We don't get very much sun here in winter, but the greenhouse gives us a few vegetables.”

Stopping in the town circle, the cars expelled their passengers, who were relieved to stretch after the prolonged ride. They quickly grabbed light covers to ward off the northern chill. The suns failed to penetrate the overcast sky.

“Come, everyone. Let's get settled in before for dinner,” Sara directed, gesturing to other residents nearby. Several locals helped the Protectress' party with their luggage and separated the group into various homes close to the center circle.

From one of the nearby homes, the second largest structure, came a dark-haired woman. Her olive-skinned features appeared steep on her face. She dressed in red with a wool sweater drawn over her shoulders. Seeing her lover home, she smiled with joy.

Sara smiled back to match and gestured for the Protectress to come with her.

Suzanne, Axandra assumed, bowed at the waist respectfully to the Protectress as she approached. “Welcome, Your Honor. I hope you will find yourself at home with us.”

“Thank you. It is an honor to stay with you. I've heard a great deal about you, Suzanne.”

Suzanne eyed her partner and let her smile spread. “I'm sure she exaggerates my good nature.”

“But I say nothing of your jealous side,” Sara teased. “Don't keep our Protectress waiting on our doorstep. She isn't used to the cold.”

That was true. Axandra had never felt so deeply cold in her entire life, especially in the midst of summer. On the islands, the temperatures rarely dropped low enough to call for heavy layers, let alone cause her breath to mist in the air. She shivered beneath her light wrap.

“We'll get you dressed properly first,” Suzanne promised, leading them inside.

After dinner when many had turned in for the night, Sara and Axandra strolled outside in the village, taking a brief tour of the closely packed homes. As promised, Suzanne saw to it that the long-time islander received proper apparel for the northern weather. Though a tad long, Axandra dressed in heavy but soft woven pants of dardak wool, along with socks and a cottony tunic. As a gift, her hostesses presented her with a woolen sweater dyed a deep red, which doubled over the front and tied in place with a silken sash. The wide collar of the sweater was brushed into a soft fluff that felt luxurious around her neck. Even though the temperature dropped, these clothes kept her comfortably warm.

As they walked, Axandra and Sara discussed the members of the People's Council. Sara gave Axandra some insight into the most prominent members, filling in some gaps in personal information that normally took years to acquire. Sara spoke of Nancy Morton's almost permanent scowl. “She has a strange notion that if she shows any happiness her constituents won't take her seriously. She's been like that ever since she was voted to Head of Council. I hear, though, that when she visits her grandchildren, she is nothing but smiles.”

“Nancy doesn't seem to care much for me,” said the Protectress bluntly. Over the last several weeks, this simply became a fact of life. Axandra no longer committed on trying to change Morton's opinion of her, only to doing the best she could with her given circumstances.

“She makes such comments to the Council,” Sara apprised. “Most of us just roll our eyes and ignore her remarks. We've watched you very closely, and we're quite satisfied with the way you handle yourself. Even Osander's grown to accept who you are, and he was the worst of your opponents in the beginning.”

“And what do you think of me, if I may be so bold as to ask?” Axandra only posed the question knowing that, of all of her new acquaintances, Sara Sunsun was the most honest and did not shy away from sharing her honesty.

“I am very proud of you,” Sara grinned. “You are the most qualified for your service because you haven't been sheltered from living your life as you chose. Most of all, you empathize with everyone. You truly care what happens to every soul.” Sara looked over at her and their gazes caught at the corners of their eyes. “I see in your face how worried you are. I know you'll do everything in your power to make everything right again.”

“That is all very kind of you to say,” Axandra accepted humbly, though she worried she wouldn't live up to such a reputation. “Thank you.”

They sauntered along the slate-laid street where the wide flat stone sections lay placed together like a jigsaw puzzle. A light-colored mortar filled the seams. Around the two women, the village rested very still and quiet.

A group of Believers visiting the Mirage Landing promised to stay there, about three kiloms to the East. This group brought their own provisions. After hearing the dire circumstances created in Lazzonir, nearly running out of food, this group did not want to cause detriment to their neighbors. Many citizens begrudged the Believers for their lack of consideration.

“The air here smells so crisp,” Axandra observed, taking a long whiff of the frigid air. “And cold.”

“Even in summer, the temperature barely stays above freezing at night. We don't have to worry about overheating,” Sara informed. She sniffed at the air as well. She donned a fleece jacket to warm herself against the evening dip in temperature. “It smells like mossy juniper. They have very fine needles for an evergreen, and very soft.” Sara led her around the corner of a house onto another, narrower street, back toward the Councilor's home. Ahead and behind, Elite monitored their path. “We often use them to scent our closets.”

Up ahead, Suzanne opened the side door for them to come back inside.

“Suzanne is everything you described her to be,” Axandra complimented. “The two of you seem very happy together.”

“Yes, we are,” Sara blushed. “Thank you.”

There came an awkward pause. A question formed in Sara's mind that she would not speak, for she felt it impolite to ask things of such a personal nature. Does she have anyone to love?

“I had someone back in Gammerton,” Axandra offered upon deriving the question. She heard a hint of heartbreak in her own voice, a twinge of grief that Jon was gone from her life, even though he had moved on. “He didn't want to leave the island to come with me, so it ended.”

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Sara sympathized.

“My friends there tell me he's now planning to get married. I guess he isn't terribly heartbroken,” Axandra assured. She faced her eyes forward as they walked “I feel better knowing he isn't deeply scarred.”

Sara must have caught on to her sarcasm, for she chuckled lightly. “But sometimes you wish he felt worse,” she supplemented.

Shrugging, Axandra smiled and gave a slight nod. “Sometimes,” she admitted.

“Don't worry. There will be someone better for you,” promised Sara, bumping Axandra's shoulder playfully. They went back into the warm house.