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?