Heart of the Goddess: Chapter Two (pt 2)

Birth (pt. 2)

Brille had never seen Old Mother like this. It was a bad omen. He crossed the room and kneeled at the base of a red dais carved from a single block of Kullish bloodstone. On top, a diminutive statue of the Mother Goddess, garbed a in a flowing gown, bore an orb in her outstretched hands. The statue represented that most precious of gifts entrusted to his people, the Elephi, in the Time of Sadness. This was just a representation. Only the priestesses knew where the True Orb was hid, waiting for the day Darkness would rise again. There was no higher symbol, no greater power for him to pray to.

As he prayed his thoughts returned to Tamina. Whatever the problem with Old Mother, it would attend to itself in its own time, but his wife’s struggle was real. She was his only concern—she and the unborn child. They were the greatest treasure a man could hope for.

* * *

Naugri stared with great concern down at the nude form of Tamina. She touched Tamina’s swollen belly with long, withered fingers, noting the stark contrast between her own pale hand and the girl’s dark skin. The baby had not turned. She knew it with a single touch.

But she had known it would be so before ever laying a hand on the girl. The Sight had shown her this moment months ago. Naugri’s sagging jowls drooped even further as a frown settled on her face. The Sight had never before been so specific in its portrayal of events. Vague images and obscure ideas were the hallmark of the Sight, but not this time. This girl, this baby, this room, this night – the vision was unmistakably clear. Why? She shivered as she recalled more of the vision, Old Mother shining as a blood red crescent of light. The implications were grim. Dark times were coming and this child would be at the center of it all.There was one other thing, perhaps the most troubling part of all. In her vision a small Pendarian boy stood in the corner of the room, watching. Yet, here tonight, no boy, Pendarian or otherwise, watched this birth. Who was this lad and why had the Sight shown him here when clearly he was not? And what did his absence signify?

Pushing the matter aside, Naugri scratched one of her withered ears and shifted her focus back to the girl lying on the bed. Tamina was Pendarian, not Elephi, but that made little difference. Naugri had brought many babes into the world, Pendarians included. To be sure, most who sought her skills were Elephi, but by no means all. Once she had even delivered a child to the lizard folk – what an adventure that had been!

The child struggling to enter the world tonight was special though. Tamina's man was a prince; not the first born, nor even the second. Still, she was the daughter of a prince--not line for the throne, but a high position all the same. Even more important, this prince loved his wife and daughter. His was a powerful love. Unusual in Naugri’s estimation of royals.

She reached down and brushed a sweat-soaked ringlet of black hair from Tamina's face. Naugri peered into Tamina's brown eyes. Pendaria was far to the south and the girl’s presence in El Athra, the heart of the Elephi kingdom, provoked many incredulous looks. Most Elephi perceived Pendarians as simple – which, on the whole was true, but not simple-minded as many assumed. And Naugri had to concede that most Pendarians suffered from a shortsighted view of the world, but they could be passionate and doggedly determined once committed to a cause.


Tamina's face contorted as another wave of pain wracked her body. She groaned through clenched teeth, her shoulders lifting off the bed as her muscles knotted again. Naugri held Tamina’s hand until the pain subsided. “That’s a good girl,” Naugri cooed, stroking Tamina’s arm.

When Tamina relaxed Naugri lumbered away from the bed and opened the heavy wooden door. She peeked into the adjoining corridor. Three ladies-in-waiting looked up with concerned eyes.

“Bring the prince," Naugri commanded.

A lady in a blue gown stood, primping the flowing fabric. "Then the child is born?"

Naugri rolled her eyes. "No, but bring him anyway."

"But, if the child is not yet born…"

Time was too short for this aristocratic nonsense. "Quickly, girl. Do as I say.”

The lady nodded, too stricken to reply and ran down the corridor toward the stairs.

Naugri closed the door and paused. It was a serious breech in protocol to pull Brille from the temple now. She scoffed. A ridiculous custom. A man should stand by his woman's side. The high folk had queer notions about such things. Tradition or no, Tamina needed her man's strength for what lay ahead. Hobbling back to the bed with a grimace etched into her face, Naugri muttered under her breath. “Curse my old bones.” She sat down on the edge of the bed with a groan and scooped up Tamina’s hand. "Mmmmm. I have sent for Brille. He will arrive soon."

Tamina smiled a meek little smile. Her lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out.

Naugri stroked Tamina’s hand. "Hush, child. Save your strength." She contemplated what must be done. It was a grim proposition indeed.

Heart of the Goddess: Chapter Two (pt 1)

Birth (pt 1)

Brille paced the royal meditation chamber, crumpling his fine silk shirttail with fidgeting fingers. His long golden hair was disheveled and his thin, angular face tight with worry. And to top it all off, he desperately needed to bathe. Reaching the eastern side, he stared at a white marble panel, tracing a fine line of inlaid malachite with bleary eyes. Too much time, he thought. How long can this go on? Leaning his head back, he contemplated for a moment the intricate lattice of vines that crisscrossed the arched ceiling. Lovers vines. They were supposed to remind him of his love for his wife, Tamina, as if he could think of anything else. The child should have been born days ago.

Stomach rumbling, Brille lowered his head, disheveled golden locks tumbling over his pale face. He placed a hand on his belly. Custom demanded he fast from the moment Tamina’s birthing pains began, but that had been so long ago.

Fresh-baked bread and sweet, creamy butter. Brille’s mouth watered at the delicious vision, but a second later a wave of guilt engulfed him. He squeezed his green eyes shut, arms crossing his chest. How could he think of food while Tamina struggled to birth their child? “Please, Heavenly Mother, let them be safe.”

Brille opened his eyes. This place was supposed to be the perfect setting to pray for his birthing wife, but it felt more like a prison. He turned and retraced his steps. Passing a fine tapestry for the thousandth time, he headed for the far side of the room a dozen paces away.

Minutes became hours. Little pains grew into mighty aches. Brille’s knees and back screamed in protest. Desperate for distraction, Brille focused his attention on the tapestry. It depicted the meeting of the Lady Aldura, a pale-skinned Elephi like himself, and Roo-ahn the Strong, a dark-skinned Pendarian. The corner of Brille’s mouth edged upward. The image reminded him of his own union with Tamina, only in reverse. Tamina’s was the dark face and his the fair.

Brille sighed. Ancient romances did nothing to help him now. He strode to the narrow window on the western wall and stared into the forested landscape until the last golden rays of the sun faded into night.

Three days and not a word.

He tried again to pray, but it was no use. Unable to concentrate Brille ran to the door, tradition be damned! But as he clutched the door handle he faltered. What would people think if he could not even stand firm for his own family’s spiritual wellbeing? He must stay. Deflated, he turned and leaned against the door. “Curse my weakness.” Had he meant the curse for his thoughts of leaving his post or for his choice to stay?

The room darkened, except for faint bluish columns of light cast by the nighttime orb, Old Mother. Her light shined in through three small windows high overhead on the eastern wall. Old Mother’s cool, constant presence reminded him the world had been around a long time and would continue long after he was gone. It was silly, he knew, but somehow watching Old Mother progress from the barest sliver of a crescent to Her full, round glory month after month, year after year, comforted him. It was…romantic. But tonight Her light only heightened his awareness that too much time had passed since--

What was that? A shadow slowly engulfed Old Mother until only a sliver remained. And this last bit of her turned red! What evil is this?

Heart of the Goddess: Chaper One (pt 3)

DREAMS (pt 3)

Roon plucked a claw worm from a silken bud on one of the maize stocks. He stared at the little brown insect pinned between his gloved forefinger and thumb. The pincer on its backside opened and closed rapidly in a useless attempt to defend itself. Roon tossed the vermin onto the ground and then squashed it under his heel. He had completed three whole rows today. The ground between the rows was littered with the fruits of his slaughter. While he worked he contemplated the strange dreams and his parents’ odd behavior. He was no closer to understanding any of it now then he had been at the breakfast table.

He scanned the field of man-high stocks of maize. Several of the farmhands were still working their rows and leaving their own trails of carnage. The sun was well past its zenith, but still plenty hot. Where had the day gone? He wiped his forehead with his sleeve and headed for the barn. Larin would be there by now. Perhaps he had come up with some answers about Old Mother’s strange appearance…or his dreams.

The smell of manure and hay assaulted Roon’s nose as he approached the barn. He paused, crinkling his nose. His heart raced. Nothing to be afraid of. Horses are my friends. Inside, Larin was replacing a horseshoe on Duster. The old brown gelding stood patiently on three hooves while Larin positioned the U-shaped strip of metal into place on the fourth.

Roon’s knees shook and his palms were slick with sweat. Swallowing back an urge to flee, Roon approached horse and brother with slow determination, wiping his palms on his shirt as he went. His eyes clung to Larin’s friendly face. “He stands so still for you.”

“Of course. He’s a good ol’ horse.”

“But, whenever I try to do it he fights me.”

“That’s ‘cause he senses your fear. Animals know when you’re afraid.”

“How?”

Larin shrugged his shoulders. “They just know. You have to show ‘em who’s in charge.”

Roon traced a circle in the dirt with his foot and gaped up at Duster’s placid face. “You’re in charge, old boy.”

Larin laughed. “Shhh. Duster’s likely to take it to heart and none of us will be able to deal with him. Before you know it, he’ll be one obstinate old horse.”

“Okay,” Roon said with a smile.

“Come on over here and help me with this shoe.”

Roon stepped back before he could stop himself. “I don’t know…”

“It’ll be fine. Trust me. Just step over here and grab his leg down low and pull it like you mean business.”

Roon hesitated before doing as his brother instructed. To his amazement, Duster stood perfectly still. Roon held the gelding’s foreleg while Larin tapped in the nails. By the time the procedure was done, Roon realized he wasn’t afraid any more.

“Done,” Larin announced. “Nothing to it, little brother, see?”

Roon nodded. “Thanks.” With his fears quenched, Roon’s thoughts returned to other matters. “Hey Larin?”

“Yeah?”

“You have any idea why Mother and Father were acting so strange?”

The smile left Larin’s eyes. “I’ve been thinking about that all day…”

“And?”

“I don’t know, little brother, I really don’t.”

Roon tried to hide his disappointment. “Sure. I couldn’t think of anything either. What about Old Mother, the way she turned red?”

Larin shook his head. “No idea, but I still say it is important.”

“Yeah,” said Roon. He decided not to bring up his dreams. There really was no point. No one understood. No one believed they were real.

Heart of the Goddess: Chapter One (pt. 2)

DREAMS (part two)

Roon stretched out his hand and scraped his knuckles across a well-worn beam. The loft was hunkered near the slop of the roof and he and his brother had been rubbing the old timber for as long as either could remember.

The raw edge of the dream was fading. “What’s wrong with Old Mother? Why is she red?”

Larin craned his neck for a better look. “I don’t know, but I bet it means something important.”

They gaped through the window for a long time without speaking. As the first gray hint of dawn touched the sky the scarlet hue faded from Old Mother. A shadow seemed to pass from her and the pale blue orb returned to normal.

Roon’s eyes trailed down to his hands. He pressed a finger into the soft flesh between his thumb and index finger, where a perfect little crescent moon birthmark resided. “Larin?”

“Yes, Roon?”

“This birthmark on my hand, it kind of looks like Old Mother did?”

“So? Lots of people have birthmarks. Torbin has one on his shoulder.”

“But his is just a blotchy no-shape thing...nothing special about that.”

Larin yawned again. “I don’t know Roon. The Gods do as they will.”

Roon let the matter drop. He was still a little unsettled about the dream. “The Bad Man frightens me, Larin.”

Larin’s smile faded, his eyes serious. “I know, little brother.” Abruptly, Larin flipped the quilt off of his legs. “We better get up or father will be after us and I know I can't protect you from him!"

Roon giggled, got out of bed and dressed. Minutes later they joined their parents at the table. Father was already half way through his breakfast of eggs, ham and oatmeal, his eyes focused on his plate. "You boys are runnin' late this morning. Candlelight reflected off a bald patch encircled by a fringe of short, graying hair.

"Sorry Father. I had another dream. The Bad Man was there and this woman, Tamina, and-"

Father’s eyes locked with Mother’s for a moment then refocused on his eggs. "Dreams can't hurt you, son." His words were calm, but the furtive glance told another story. Mother pretended not to notice, but Roon knew what he saw.

"But the Man scares me, He's…"

"I'll have no more of this talk. Strange men in little boy's dreams don't get the fields planted."

The words had not been said in a harsh tone but the meaning was clear; no more talk of dreams. Roon slumped in his chair. "Yes, father."

Mother flitted to the table, steaming iron skillet in hand. “You boys need to eat so you can get to your chores.” She heaped a mountain of eggs and a landslide of ham onto Roon’s plate while she stared Father’s direction.

Roon’s eyes grew wide as the food piled higher and higher. “Uh, Mother?”

“Oh! I’m sorry, son. Larin, help your brother with that.” She turned and walked back to the wood-burning stove, leaving the pile of food on Roon’s plate.

Larin divided the food, exchanging questioning glances with Roon. They ate in silence shoveling the food in like a pair of pigs to slop. When they finished they simultaneously pushed themselves back from the table and fled to their chores.

Heart of the Goddess: Chapter One (pt. 1)

DREAMS (part one)

Old Mother rose in the heavens, a bright orb in the midnight sky. Slowly, a shadow crept over her, blackening her until only a thin sliver remained. Her color shifted from pale blue to an unwholesome crimson. Silence filled the land. No dog barked; no horse whinnied. Even the constant chirrup, chirrup of crickets ceased.

Roon woke from a fitful sleep, his broad, russet cheeks slick with tears. A mass of tight curls stood out in all directions on his head like a thick, black ball of cotton—except for a flat spot where his head had rested upon the pillow. “Tamina!” Eyes wide and frightened, Roon scanned his surroundings for cold stone walls and bloody sheets, but he was in the familiar old loft, hunkered beneath the worn timbers of the roof, as always. He still lay in the warm, down mattress and clutched his patch-work quilt with both hands. Faint crimson light poured in from a small window near the bed. What was wrong with Old Mother?

He pulled the quilt up to his chin with one hand and with the other reached across the bed to his older brother.

Larin yawned and stretched. "Dreams again?"

"Yeah."

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Larin sat up. "That's three nights in a row." His voice cracked with the uncertain tenor of a boy on the verge of manhood. His own hair mirrored Roon’s woolly black mass. He was eleven--five years older than Roon. His broad face, with its flat nose and flaring nostrils, prominent cheekbones and contemplative brown eyes always soothed Roon.

"Ff-f-four," Roon corrected.

Larin laughed, placing his arm on Roon's shoulders, "Okay little brother. Was it the same?"

"No." Roon sniffled. "The Bad Man was there…I think. But he was quiet this time. Just sat in that dark place I can’t see.”

“That doesn’t sound so-“

“That woman, Tamina, died giving birth.”

Larin swallowed hard before replying. "Roon, it was just a dream."

"No, it was real. The Bad Man--scares me. And poor Tamina—the Pendarian woman—at least she looks Pendarian. And the strange old lady, Naugri—the one with the pale skin. Oh you should have seen her eyes!"

"You’re home, Roon, in bed."

“But Tamina…Brille cut her open and-”

“It was just a dream.”

For a time they sat without speaking. Roon finally whispered, "I think the Bad Man is looking for that little girl--and me too."

"Now why would some strange man from a dream come looking for you?"

Roon tried to laugh. "Kind of crazy, huh?"

"Sure is, little brother."

"Just the same...if he does come...you'll protect me, won't you?"

"To my last breath," Larin said, tickling Roon’s ribs.