Call of the Goddess: A Bona Dea Novel (Stormflies Book 1) (2 page)

Jon dashed down the beach toward her, shouting her name over and over as he came. His knees hit the ground beside her and sand flew up, hitting her skin in a cool layer of stinging.

“Axandra, are you all right? What happened? What are you doing out here?” Jon's hands grabbed her and tried to help her as she lifted her head from the ground. A wave of darkness swept over her, and she felt her body spinning. She thrust her arms straight as braces against the beach. Her dark hair shrouded her face from the light of day. Jon's fingers gently tucked the curls behind her ears so he could see her. “You look sick. Did you get stung?”

Coughing from dryness and sand, Axandra managed a meager nod. Being stung seemed a good explanation. The throbbing felt reminiscent of a jelly sting. She could have stepped on one of those nasty critters in the dark. The blue jellies packed a heavy dose of toxin that, while not fatal, sickened a healthy man Jon's size for several days. Heaving her lungs, she tried to calm her hacking with an intake of fresh air.

Shifting his arms, Jon cradled his lover and lifted her above the sands. “Let's get you inside. I'm so sorry. I went to bed. I didn't think—”

He blamed himself for not checking on her last night. She'd been lying unconscious in the sand for hours. Resting against him, she stopped fighting the pain in her body and tried to let it flow out of her.

Jon lay her down on the bed inside. The air felt cooler and smelled of the flowers cut from a roadside yesterday. Axandra closed her eyes and lay still, listening to the sounds of the water, of the birds, and of Jon rattling around in the kitchen as he looked through the herbs to find the best one to help counteract a jelly sting. She wondered if the remedy would help with this pain.

As she lay in bed, with Jon fussing over her, Axandra had no idea how much time passed. Much time elapsed with her unaware of her present surroundings. Drifting in and out of waking, she found herself in strange places, dream-like worlds. She watched flying reptiles soaring over jungles. She stood in a city of buildings so tall, they blocked out the sky. Trees did not exist. Night skies looked hazy.

Jon washed her face with a damp towel and dribbled a tea made of the herb onto her tongue. The mixture tasted bitter and coated her teeth and gums with an oily layer. By evening, the aches in her muscles eased away and her joints loosened. Her foggy brain cleared.

Jon stayed by her side, seated on the edge of the mattress while he watched her. Opening her eyes, Axandra felt as though she woke from a bizarre dream. Jon looked worried, his bearded face scrunched and frowning. She shifted her body so that she could look up into his face.

“I should've stayed awake 'til you came back,” he scolded himself, shaking his head. “What'f something—”

“I'm fine,” she tried to assure him, though her weak voice lacked conviction in those words. Brushing her hands across her skin, she felt decidedly grimy. The idea of a warm bath popped into her head. Immediately she could smell the aromas of soaps and oils and feel the tickle of popping bubbles on her skin. Blinking rapidly, she pulled herself back to the moment.

“You looked really horrible out there on the beach. I thought you were dying,” Jon said with great distress. “I didn't want to leave you, not even to get the Healer. I couldn't find where you were stung—to put the herb on—so I made tea.”

Pursing her lips in a sour expression, she told him, “It tasted awful, but it seems to be working.” She laughed softly, amused by his concern. Reaching up, she touched her fingers to his tan cheek, stroking the soft whiskers of his full beard. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

Jon jerked back from her touch, his eyes abruptly wide. Her hand hung alone in the space between them.

“What's wrong?” Axandra asked, leaving her hand there for him to nuzzle. Jon did not move toward her again, so she slowly withdrew.

“Y-you gave me a shock or—er, something. Maybe it's all the sand.” He forced a smirk, but his lips turned down again quickly. He reached out to take her hand, but stopped himself uncertainly. “I'll fill up the tub. You'll prob'ly feel a lot better after a bath.”

Her companion sensed something wasn't right. As he left the room, Axandra held her hand in front of her, staring at the bluish lines across her palm, trying to see something unusual in her veins. Only sand and dust and bitter tea.

Water splashed into the shallow metal tub in the next room. They didn't have a large tub in this cottage by the sea, but she fit inside the round basin if she bent her knees. Jon usually stood, using the hose to rinse himself with warm water. He looked awkward if he tried to sit.

Sitting up in bed, she listened and waited for Jon to return, thinking he would help her out of her clothes and use the sponge to wash her skin. He usually enjoyed shampooing her hair.

“Tub's full,” he called. He escaped past the bedroom and into the main room, not even casting a glance in her direction.

A sinking sensation weighed in her chest as she sighed. She prayed his jitters would pass soon and that they could return to normal. She made no plans to reclaim her old life. The people would simply have to make do without a Protectress.

Using her arms to push herself up from the bed, she went to take her bath.

+++

23rd Trimont

A majority of the residents
in Port Gammerton assembled to hear the official news. In the meeting hall on the village square, the people sat on long wood and lacquer benches arranged in loose rows. The unofficial news already spread rampantly of the Protectress' demise in the form of chatter trickling among the townsfolk.

Still feeling ill from the prior day, Axandra leaned against Jon. She sensed tension in his embrace and a strong desire to move away from her. Though weak and desiring his comfort, she straightened her spine and tucked her cold hands between her thighs, being careful not to touch him again. She knew that Elora, the Protectress, was gone. The Goddess could only be released upon the death of the host. The arrival of the spirit delivered this news without words.

The Principal of their village addressed the people, his sun-darkened arm waving to ask for quiet. “Everyone, I have very sad news. Very sad news. The Protectress—Our Esteemed Matriarch—has passed away.” He made the announcement in somber tones, his eyes cast down toward the floor. He fidgeted uncomfortably as he listened to the gasps and bursts of sobbing that circled the room. Others sat silently, stunned by the news.

Again, the Principal raised his hands to request stillness. “This is official from the People's Council. They ask everyone to give a few moments to honor her in her passing.”

And so everyone present sat quietly for a few minutes, giving their thoughts over to thank the Protectress for all of her good deeds. Axandra could hear those thoughts, making the air too heavy to breath.

Then, people began to ask questions. “When did it happen?” asked Nellie from the far side of the room.

Axandra slouched mournfully on the bench feeling drained. All morning, she struggled with the noises in her head. The fight exhausted her. Voices spoke to her from nowhere and from everywhere. Some she recognized as neighbors. Others came from unknown distances. They weren't really speaking to her, yet she felt as though everything she heard was meant for her. The voices distracted her again.

Who will show us the way now? Someone worried. What will happen to our peace? If only her daughter was still alive. That poor girl.

Rubbing her temple, Axandra attempted to block those voices. Since the Goddess had come to her, she found herself unable to form even a simple barrier to close her sensitive mind from others.

She so wanted to lean against Jon for support, to draw strength from his presence. He had shifted several centims away from her on the bench since they sat down. He kept himself withdrawn, his hands tucked beneath his arms and his eyes forward. He wouldn't even look at her.

“She was very ill,” the Principal responded to a second question Axandra had not heard. “The Council informs us that she has been so for some months. Her passing was, unfortunately, expected.”

“Do they know who will take her place?” asked Janette, raising her age-withered hand above the heads of the crowd to be noticed.

The Principal shook his head of salt and pepper hair. “They did not say, Ms. Nariss. I suggest that we all go home and take a few minutes to honor her. The Council will let us know as soon as they have any further news.” With these words, he stepped down from the raised platform and walked away, sagging sadly as he exited the building.

The crowd split off into small groups. Some left the hall and headed for home. Others stayed, conversing about the tragedy. Axandra waited to see what Jon was going to do. He did not move immediately.

Janette, who sat to her right, bumped her shoulder. “Oh, dear. You look terrible. You're taking this quite hard.”

Did she look so grief-stricken? Janette touched her bare arm, and the woman's mind flew at hers with little effort. Axandra backed away slightly.

“Jelly sting,” Jon announced flatly. “Farenseve. Been sick ever since.”

“Oh, is that what we call it now,” Dora, Janette's life-partner, commented from the far side. “Were you that jelly, Mr. Jon. I'd say there is something else causing these shakes.”

“It isn't like that,” Axandra vehemently denied the accusation that she might be pregnant. She met Janette's eyes momentarily. “I just haven't been well the past couple of days.”

“Well, something sure feels different about you,” said Janette. Having no children of her own, she often fussed over Axandra like an overbearing mother, giving no thought to touching her so casually or blurting out every comment that came to her mind. “Did you see the Healer? Maybe she has a remedy.”

Shaking her head, Axandra assured, “It will pass.” She shivered, feeling a sudden chill across her skin.

“Well, my dear, I do hope you get better. Our garden needs tending again. You know,” Janette swiftly changed subjects, “I don't believe I have ever noticed your eyes to be so brightly colored before. I know they've always been that unusual shade of purple, but today they seem remarkably deeper.”

Axandra raised her fingers to the soft flesh around her eyes, as though she could touch the color of them. “I suppose I should take that as a compliment.” Would anyone else notice?

Jeanette switched gears again. “I feel so sorry for the Protectress—having lost her daughter all those years ago—Twenty is it?”

“Twenty-one,” Axandra stated too matter-of-factly. This caused Jeanette to peer at her suspiciously. “I, uh, I believe it's been twenty-one years,” she stammered, pretending to be less knowledgeable.

“Twenty-one,” Janette echoed. She held a crooked finger to her lips thoughtfully.

Panicking that she gave away too much, Axandra tugged at Jon's sleeve. “I need to go home.”

“All right,” Jon allowed and grudgingly helped Axandra to her feet. As soon as she was up, he released her and started away.

“So, when are the two of you going to get married?” Dora asked loudly, without qualms. Other heads turned in their direction. “You've been together so long now, you might as well.”

Ignoring the old woman, Axandra followed Jon through the remnants of the crowd.

In the square, many of the villagers milled about, not quite sure if they should return to their work or go home to mourn. The only service being provided for the time being was spirits at the tavern.

“I'm going to head over to the pub to get the rest of the scuttlebutt,” said Jon, his eyes wandering in that direction. “Will you be all right to walk home by yourself?”

Axandra hadn't expected to be abandoned so quickly. She opened her mouth to say no, that she needed him. Jon's instincts urged him to run away from her. He didn't understand why, but the need to flee overpowered any other emotion. Closing it again, she nodded to him. “I should be all right. I just need to rest.”

“Thanks,” he said and quickly ditched her where she stood. She heard him call out a hello to the operator of the tavern. Jon often worked there, cooking and serving food to travelers and locals.

“Let me walk you home,” said a voice behind her. She recognized Lilsa's inflection. The friend came to a stop beside her, looking off in Jon's direction. “He's acting very strangely today,” Lilsa observed, offended that anyone treat a friend of hers in such a manner.

Axandra looked to Lilsa's freckled face. “You don't have to do that. It's out of your way.”

“Nonsense,” Lilsa dismissed lightly. “I don't mind. We haven't talked in a week. You've been hiding out at your place.”

“I wasn't feeling well,” Axandra offered as an excuse, then scowled. Saying that would only give fuel to the rumor that she might be pregnant. She didn't want everyone to think it was true. Hurriedly, she tried to clear up such suspicions. “With a bug. Fish flu or something.” She started walking toward the road that would pass her cottage about a kilom outside the village. She chose consciously not to look back at Jon. Lilsa kept pace beside her.

“Don't pay any attention to those old ladies. You're definitely not pregnant,” Lilsa told her confidently. “You know I have a knack for those things.”

“Why didn't you become a Healer?” Axandra asked her, knowing that Lilsa had been approached to join the respected profession, just as she had, a couple of years ago. They were both a little older than the typical recruits.

“Why didn't you?” Lilsa asked in return, signaling she would share if Axandra did. Each knew the other would keep her own secret.

“Well. I'm relieved to hear that,” Axandra said, skipping back to the diagnosis. “I'm not ready to have a baby.”

“I didn't think so—but you don't have the flu—and I heard your story about a jelly sting. I don't believe that either,” rejected her dearest friend. Lilsa tucked her short brown hair behind her ears, only to have the sea breeze tickle the strands loose again. “Jon isn't listening. Do you want to tell me about it?”

Not answering immediately, Axandra walked quietly with Lilsa along the narrow road. Leaving the village proper, they entered a realm thick with leatherleaf and umbrella trees. A large colorful parrot perched in a small tree nearby, watching the two ladies pass him as he clung to a narrow branch. The strong wind from the open ocean clapped the heavy leaves together overhead. The ocean waves sounded gentle, muted by the thick vegetation. They walked alone. This road was rarely traveled except by the residents of the few homes along its path.