Bym slept fitfully for several hours. When she woke, it was only long enough for Iago to sponge her clean of feverish sweat, change her bandages, and administer more medicine which he’d disguised as hot tea. When next she woke, the priestesses attended her, dressing her in a black silk gown and robe, and covering her with a satin quilt. They too refused to leave and knelt on cushions along the outer corridor. Their presence put the males on edge, especially Drem.
Kneeling before the Umbra high priestesses of the Temporal Locum, a goddess who they had only ever worshipped from afar, he asked, “What do you sense?”
One answered, “For days, we have sensed a disquiet. The distant stability to which we had grown accustomed disappeared and left us plummeting like newly hatched birds whose nest had vanished. The one within is the branch upon whom our faith has alighted.”
Drem stared at the stone paver beneath him. “What if the branch and tree are determined to confront the Solis?”
Yeva touched under his chin and urged him to look up. Her eyes were full of joy and serenity. “Then, the tree shall be accompanied by her garden and all of its flowers and thorns.”
Drem smiled. “Priestess Yeva is wise.”
“I live to serve the Goddess as have all of my mothers before me. Nothing else concerns me.”
Drem considered her words and nodded.
Continuing, she said, “While our high priest searched for our Goddess, we studied the texts. In ancient times, the Goddess was welcomed. At each portal, her priestesses, priests, and soldiers gathered the moment the former Goddess faded. Since those times, many of our gates have fallen into ruin. The Solis have oppressed us and forbidden our warriors from marching to prevent us from making our own pleas to the Temporal Locum. Rather than honoring the ancient ways, our Goddess was not greeted and welcomed. She was hunted and harmed.”
“Her confusion and fear do none of us any good. This chaotic weather and uncertain day and night will continue until she embraces her gifts.” Drem looked toward the treatment room. Word of her arrival had already begun to spread, and experienced healers consulted with Iago.
“Embrace them? Has she even acknowledged them? Truly? She does not yet seem to so much as believe who she is.”
“Then show her,” Drem said in a desperate fervor.
Yeva bowed her head and returned to her healing prayers.
A dry, aching thirst was Bym’s first realization upon waking. Her second was the soft luxuriousness surrounding her. Her fingers recognized the quality of the fabrics without her needing to visually confirm it. She didn’t want to move, not even so much as to open an eye. She thought her symptoms had improved but felt physically drained. Fighting the fever had been harder than fighting the goblins, or had it been the same fight all along since it had been their claws which had inflicted their poison upon her? Tiredly, she took the cool cloth from her head and sniffed it.
“It’s lavender. I bathed you in it to calm you.” Iago lifted her head and placed a cup to her lips. “This is warm milk and honey. It will ease the soreness in your throat.” He dabbed at the corner of her mouth. “Slowly. You may have all you want.”
After drinking the cup’s contents, she sat up once he’d turned his back to the sink. “Thank you for helping me. Eurig tried to help me and Donkey when we got scratched before. Oh, no! Donkey! Hurry!” Bym slid off the pile of decadent blankets and pillows to the cold stone floor. Luxurious silk fabric lapped at her legs, and she couldn’t help admiring the simplistic elegance of the gown she wore.
“Lady, you need your rest.” He spoke to her as he might a spooked horse.
“My name is Bym, and what I need is to know if Donkey is okay.”
“Does my Lady require service?” Guto asked from the doorway.
Bym stared at him. Her lack of a penis had completely altered his behavior toward her. “Yes, I do. Where is Donkey? Take me to her, unless I’m a prisoner.”
Captain Arwel and Drem crowded into the room.
Arwel said, “May I suggest retiring to your chambers? I will have the beast brought to you.”
“Beast? Beast? She’s not a beast! She’s my friend, and I’d be dead if not for her! She’s my responsibility, and I need to make sure she’s okay. If she’s sick with fever, traipsing all over this fortress is only going to make her worse! And another thing, since Hopcyn cleared me of stealing from him and murdering him, I’d rather not be locked in a cell!”
Iago said, “I agree.”
Bym looked gratefully at him.
“A sick patient should remain calm and comfortable in order to heal.”
“See?” Bym asked.
“You’re as stubborn as a donkey,” Guto proclaimed. “He was talking about you being calm and still.” Unceremoniously, he wrapped the satin blanket around her and picked her up, cradling her in his arms.
“Oh, no you don’t! I swear. If you toss me into the deep pool with the flesh-eating eels again, I’ll rip your dick off and sew it to your forehead.”
“Oh, shut up. I’m taking you to see your soulmate. Unlike them, I know you won’t stop throwing a fit until you get your way.”
“You’re damn right, I won’t.”
“Furthermore,” he said talking over her, “their opinions don’t matter. I’m yours to command, and anything you want or wish to do, it is my duty to fulfill.”
She looked over his shoulder at the faces behind them, all of which had drained of color, making them look ghoulish against their black robes and eyeliner. Hidden behind the males in the corridor, a feminine voice asked, “Flesh-eating eels?” She and seven other high-class ladies stood from where they had knelt upon plush pillows and followed them. All of the ladies were at least ten years older than Bym.
Blushing at their attention, Bym said, “Yes, ma’am.”
Arwel said, “It’s something told to disobedient acolytes to straighten them out.”
Bym thumped Guto in the ear. He didn’t react, so she did it again. “Seriously? You’re going to act like it didn’t hurt?”
“I have earned your displeasure in several ways including lying to frighten you. I deserve any punishment which you deem necessary. Even a lifetime of servitude won’t be enough.” He sealed his lips.
“You are so dramatic.” Realizing how deeply embarrassed he was of himself for his treatment of her when he’d thought her a boy, she said, “I’m sorry I thumped your ear. I’m not sorry I punched you in the dick. You started it that time.”
He carried her along wide stone halls. Sconces burned at intervals lighting their way and reflecting against the shiny black stone walls. The others in their party followed silently.
Curiosity drove her to ask, “Are the walls glass?”
“Chiseled and polished obsidian,” Drem answered. His words seemed to hum through her. “It’s decorative and covers hard stone. You are perfectly safe from all threats here.”
Getting more comfortable, she put her arms around Guto’s neck. His face turned into a beet. “I’m sorry. Is it okay?” she nervously asked.
“Yes, Lady Bym.”
“Are you just saying that because you think you deserve to be humiliated?”
“What?” He turned an eye toward her before quickly looking forward.
Along the corridor, Umbra of both sexes bowed when their group passed by. Bym blushed. The people around her were important amongst Umbra society. She didn’t want to repeat her social faux pas with Mackenzie and find herself tossed out to the goblins. Mackenzie. She’d forgotten. Fleeing from the forgotten recollection, she said to Guto, “Are you only saying it’s okay for me to hold onto your neck as some sort of penance? Are you really about to throw up everywhere? Is my touch making your flesh crawl?” She’d been to a few presentations about sexual harassment in the workplace and didn’t want to be creepy. It was odd the things she could recall when the knowledge was pertinent but how she couldn’t remember everything. She could recall personal skills, things to help her survive, but no particulars.
“You don’t make my flesh crawl, but you’re making my eel stand on his tail.”
It took her a few seconds to figure out what he meant. Then, her laughter echoed along the halls, and his blush began to fade. By the time they had reached the first cavern of the Umbra which she’d ever entered, she was shivering.
Iago stated, “I knew this was a bad idea.” The intimidating tone was back in his voice.
“I’ll warm her up when I get her into her rooms.”
“Guto, shame on you. We haven’t even had our first date.”
“What’s a date?” he asked.
The ladies laughed softly. One of them said, “A date is a courtship outing.”
Guto again transformed into a beet, or maybe he resembled a radish. Not being sure, Bym decided to get him to change into the shade at every opportunity. “Donkey!” she called out when she saw her. She was with a group of horses, and each of them wore blankets and legwarmers.
“Is the Goddess’ mount displaying any symptoms of goblin infection? Worry for the beast prevents her rest.” Drem’s voice carried across the cavern to every ear, and the impact of his words was like a soul-slap to every guard and hostler present.
Their disbelief of what they had heard was confirmed by the stunning visuals provided by the high priestesses dutifully following behind Guto, who carried in his arms at first glance what had appeared to be a bald boy.
It was Bym’s turn to blush. How could Drem be so certain as to her identity? If it was true, what was she supposed to do? What was her purpose? Why, of all people, had she been chosen? From without the cavern’s entrance, a muffled but excessively loud crack of thunder had her jumping in Guto’s arms, and the priestesses crying out in soft, startled gasps.
Hands hidden in his robes and head bowed, a male stepped forward. “The Goddess’ mount has been fed fever root along with her hay as a precaution. However, it appears her treatment while in Sedwidge’s stable was better than that from which our Goddess benefitted.”
During their exchange, Guto carried Bym close enough to Donkey that she could scratch behind her ears. “There. Do you see? She’s being cared for by those who know how to do so.”
“What about the entrance and the wall that isn’t a wall? Can’t the goblins simply spill inside?” She doubted the safety of a mere illusion to keep her four-legged friend safe.
“My Lady, a stone door was lowered, and all of our exits have been thusly secured. We will not allow harm to come to you. For centuries, we have trained and prepared for this day. In this keep alone, you have ten-thousand men at your command.”
“Enough!” Iago’s voice was an angry whip. “I can hear her teeth chattering.”
As if the Healer’s words had become law, Guto backed away from Donkey, carried Bym from the cavern, into the corridor, and into a guard room where every Umbra present took a knee. Drem, Captain Arwel, and the priestesses all followed. They entered another room and approached a wall where four Umbra, whose appearances had visions of oiled male bodybuilders popping unbidden into Bym’s mind, stood to either side of a large closet of sorts. Beside them were metal cranks. One of the men opened a waist-high wooden gate, and Guto gingerly stepped inside. From her perch in his arms, she judged their surroundings with a great deal of skepticism. The priestesses entered next and were followed by Iago. The others, who had joined their party, like lead shavings to a magnet, stayed behind.
The door was closed, and the musclemen put their gloved hands to the giant cranks. As they turned them, cables in a pulley system were manipulated, and the closet in which they stood began to rise. Everyone stood well away from the front where the smooth stone of the shaft rushed by in the darkness. A crack of light appeared at the top and expanded as four new muscled Umbra came into view. They turned their cranks and vanished. Twenty times, the light vanished and reappeared until the archaic elevator came to rest at the mountain fortress’ pinnacle. The men who were there applied force to their cranks, locking them into place. Then, one of them opened the gate and beckoned them out with a deep bow.
Guto and Iago stood by uncertain of where to go or what to do. The priestesses took the lead. Their long, full-skirted gowns rustled about their legs like billowy jewel-toned clouds as they gracefully floated from the stone chamber. Behind them, the males were again turning the cranks and lowering the wooden box down the deep stone shaft. Involuntarily, Bym shuddered, wondering what would happen if one of those men were to sneeze. Taking note of a set of stone stairs, she wondered how many steps were in at least twenty flights. However, that would just be from where they were. The fortress went deep below the surface like the mines of dwarves in fantasy films.
Guto and Iago moved forward, taking note as she did of the bustling activity occurring around them. A dozen Umbra males, robed in black and with lined eyes, cleaned and scrubbed a decadent living space. A low, oval carved table graced the center of the first room and was surrounded by four rectangular, backless couches. Large floor pillows in vibrant silks were scattered around the floor. Across the room, hewn from the mountain’s side, were four long, rectangular picture windows made of a thick clear stone, perhaps quartz.
Sliding from Guto’s arms and to her feet, she walked barefoot across the stone floor and peered through the one closest to her which was thankfully nearest a fireplace which was so mammoth as to be near in size to the elevator that they’d just exited.
A female said, “We clean your rooms each spring and have done so for hundreds of years in anticipation of your arrival. The furnishings are new, but if they are not to your liking, we will change them.”
Bym tore her eyes from the snowcapped mountains in the distance, the giant snowflakes drifting on air currents, and the snow-covered ground so very far below.
Bowing, the woman said, “I am Yeva. What you wish, I will make so.”
Confused and overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events, Bym didn’t know what to say, so she asked, “What if you’re wrong? What if it’s not me?”
With a smile and eyes full of mischief, Yeva said, “Well, if you are not the Goddess, perhaps Guto will train you as a warrior. He’s already attempted to make you look the part.” She smirked at Bym’s shaved head.
Bringing a hand up, Bym rubbed her scalp. Then, she snorted. “Think of the time I’ll save each morning. I won’t have to rush….”
Yeva, the view of falling snowflakes, the heat from the fire, and all else vanished as the words drifted through her mind, taking her along with them. “…[T]he seconds… rush toward the final hour….”
Bym swayed on her feet and felt Yeva’s cool hands reaching out to steady her. “The final hour,” she whispered. “Yeva, what happens to this world if there is no goddess to hold time from rushing?”
Her question startled the high priestess. With shaken composure, she answered, “Eventually, our world would plunge into an unrelenting night. Food would cease to grow. Then, the goblins would be left to feast upon the strongest amongst us until forced to turn completely upon themselves. Without our Goddess, there is only death.” Turning her back to Bym, Yeva commanded the males to leave. Then, she held her hand out to Bym. “Come. Your spirit suffers from disquiet. Meditative silence might ease your turmoil.” She led Bym into an atrium of starlight.
Bym stared up in wonder at the domed ceiling which to her almost resembled an umbrella made of clear stone, like that used in the windows of the main room. Ladies came forward and placed floor pillows beneath it. With Yeva’s help, Bym lowered herself to the thick satin pillow, careful of her leg, while staring up at the twinkling stars in absolute awe. She’d never before seen so many or felt so close to them. Eight bejeweled women kneeled on pillows around her.
Yeva said, “Close your eyes. Empty your mind. Slowly, breathe in. Release it.” Trying to relax, she closed her eyes and listened to the soothing cadence of Yeva’s voice. After taking dozens of deep breaths, she felt the knots in her shoulders loosen. “The stars shine down upon us like cold su
ns, too distant to warm more than our memories. They are the past shining down upon the future. Draw them closer, and feel their hope.”
Eyes closed, Bym lifted her face to the atrium and imagined the stars twinkling in their beds of velvety black night sky. She imagined a ray of starlight reaching down from the heavens and lifted her left hand up to touch it, imagining the feeling of ocean foam tickling her fingers, hand, and arm as the bubbling light slid along her arm and fizzed through her soul. Bym stood, bathing her form in starlight and washing away the rancid stench fear had bred in her soul. Lifting both hands up as if to embrace the starlight, Bym laughed and opened her eyes. Her joy turned into panic. Her fingertips were mere inches from the glassy ceiling. Pinwheeling her arms, she fell, but hands and arms clad in silk caught her, lowering her to the pillow upon which she had sat. Above, the atrium sparkled with dancing lights, and Bym saw those same lights flitting happily beneath her skin.
“What’s happening?” she fearfully asked.
Yeva asked, “Do you fear the peace with which you have been blessed simply because you do not understand it? Close your eyes. Relax.” She waited until Bym complied. Again, Yeva guided them in meditative breathing exercises.
But this time, the starlight took on the substance of flocks of birds fluttering wildly beneath her skin, dancing in flight as if searching for sustenance. They plucked at her worries as if they were worms. Unable to calm her mind, she feared for Eurig, wondering if he had suffered and died beneath an onslaught of horrendous goblins, or if he yet lived. He’d been the first person to help her, but then he’d abandoned her. She feared learning of Abner’s emotions once he learned that his beloved sister’s death was her fault. She’d repaid his friendship with betrayal of the worst kind. Her thoughts drifted to Guto and how the moment he’d learned her sex how strong his protective arms had become. Then, her thoughts turned to the mysterious Drem with his voice like raw silk and eyes like velvety sin. His power frightened her but drew her. The dancing lights became needle pricks, and she scratched and clawed at her skin.
Temporal Locum Page 12
