Goddess Rising

by Melissa Bowersock

  Balat arranged for Grace to visit the lovers, first separately, then later together.

  “Bring down what blessings you may,” he told her. “You are not there to counsel nor to advise.”

  Grace smiled at the reminder. “Not that any sane couple would take the counsel of a barren, unwed, half-grown wise-woman. All right, Balat. When do I meet with Kamala?”

  “Tomorrow. Just after dawn.”

  The next morning, Grace moved soundlessly through the pre-dawn forest, a ghost who in her robe of bark-dyed brown appeared and disappeared by turns. She seemed to float slowly through the trees, at once focused on the little cabin that was her goal and also diffusely aware of every movement in the forest. She knew without knowing that the cabin was empty but for Kamala, that before any light paled the eastern horizon her parents had left for the home of friends so that she and Grace could meet alone. She knew without knowing that James lay awake in his bed in another cabin not far away, and that she would see him tomorrow at dusk. She knew the power of dawn was the power of the sun’s penetration, the power of invasion and infusion, the same power that James would bring to Kamala. She knew the power of dusk was the power of receiving and openness and was mirrored in Kamala. She would see each in the time of the other’s power and feel their integration. And she would bring the Goddess to their union.

  The door to Kamala’s cabin was slightly ajar. Grace touched it with her fingertips, then turned her face to the east. Through the trees the horizon glowed brightly, yet Grace waited for the first sliver of brilliance to crest before she put pressure to the door. Only when the glittering rays of light dazzled her eyes did she push the door open and enter the cabin.

  Inside, the darkness swam after the brilliance she had just witnessed. She stood quietly, letting her eyes adjust. Even before her vision cleared, though, she found Kamala, her spirit seeking the other girl’s, questing for it and finding it in the spirit plane that is never dark.

  “Kamala,” Grace said when her eyes revealed the girl at last. She sat across the room on her pallet, eyes wide in wonder and fear.

  “You—I—you touch me and yet you are across the room!” Awed, Kamala flung herself at Grace’s feet. “You are the Goddess!”

  Half-tranced, Grace had the presence to smile. “No, I am only Her instrument. Rise up, Kamala, and bring me a mug of tea. We can talk at the table.”

  In wonder and confusion, the young woman hurried to do as she was bid. Only when Grace was seated at the rude wooden table, her fingers curled about the warmth of the mug, did Kamala, hesitantly, take her chair across from Grace.

  “You—you did touch me, didn’t you? Across the room?”

  Grace sipped her tea. “Yes, I touched you. My eyes had not adjusted to the darkness in the cabin, so I found you by your spirit presence. A small magic.”

  Kamala was impressed despite Grace’s dismissal of it. “I wish I could do that.”

  Grace was about to say, You can, but caught herself. It was, apparently, not Kamala’s destiny to be a vessel of the Goddess except in her role as woman and wife. Her obeisance to the Goddess would be in the form of loving a man, keeping a home, bearing children; not in magic and mysteries.

  “You have different work before you,” Grace said finally. “You will honor the Goddess by your love for James.”

  Kamala blushed furiously. Barely older than Grace, she was in some ways much more innocent. It was evident to Grace that Kamala and James were already lovers and Kamala was bursting to share her delight with Grace and still painfully self-conscious. She looked alternately as if she wanted to tell everything and wanted to hide her face.

  “You do love him, don’t you?” Grace said to end the suspense.

  “Oh, yes!” Kamala said on the breath she’d been holding. “It’s so wonderful when we’re together. It’s like ... ” For a second she groped for words, then a realization twisted her mouth into an O of embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” she rushed on, “I’d forgotten that you, that you haven’t ...”

  “It’s of no matter,” Grace said easily. “If I do not know what it’s like to love someone physically, I do know what it’s like to love with all the heart and soul.”

  “Oh, yes,” Kamala sighed dreamily. “And it is wonderful to love, isn’t it?”

  Grace had to smile. This girl was the embodiment of love itself. Her slim, supple body was the vessel of love, her eyes shone with the light of the Goddess. It was for this she was born.

  “You do the Goddess’ work when you love like this,” Grace said. “Every time you make love with James, you celebrate Her.”

  At that, when Grace thought she would be pleased, she seemed uneasy. “What is it?” Grace asked.

  Hesitant, Kamala tried to explain. “I—most of the time we—I—make an offering to the Goddess when—when we—I mean, I thank Her for our love. But sometimes I—I—forget. Sometimes I feel like it’s just for us.” Her eyes were wide. “Is that terrible?”

  Grace laughed fondly and reached out to clasp the other woman’s fingers with her own. “No, Kamala, that’s not terrible. Believe it or not, when you are so impassioned that you act without thought of the Goddess, that is when you are truly Her and She is you. That is when you celebrate Her most fully.”

  Relieved, Kamala sank back in her chair. “I’m so glad you said that. Sometimes I was afraid that, in my love, I was forgetting Her.”

  “When you love, you are Her,” Grace said, and her voice sounded strange and far away. Suddenly Kamala’s face seemed to swim before her on a sea of crystals. The sights in the cabin and the sounds of the day all melted away and Grace saw only Kamala’s face, soft, loving, radiant, wreathed in gems of a thousand colors and lights. The girl’s eyes shone, her face beamed with the holy light that radiated from within to shine pear-like from her translucent skin. For a moment hers was the face of spring, the face of life and love and beauty, the face of the Creatrix, Her dark side hidden for now. She was innocent and glorious and all-knowing and powerful.

  “Your union to this man is blessed,” Grace intoned in a hollow voice. “Make this a sacred union for the Goddess lives in you in all Her faces. Be happy.”

  The crystalline lights that wreathed Kamala’s face faded and darkened, winking out, leaving the girl’s face to fade into gray. The echo of Grace’s voice rang dully in her own head, like the last hollow vibration of a bell that has ceased to ring but whose pulse still rippled the air. When the last sensed echo finally faded away, Grace paused for a moment in total darkness.

  It was cool here; cool and quiet and serene. She breathed deeply of the darkness and rested.

  “Grace? Grace!”

  Kamala’s voice shattered the calm dark and flung Grace back into the morning. Grace opened her eyes. “Oh,” Kamala said, relieved. “I was frightened! I thought you had—you had—”

  Grace laughed, a small tinkling laugh. “No, I did not die. That is not for me yet. I was merely resting for a moment. Breathe easy.”

  It was an obvious chore for Kamala to do that. She had a hand pressed flat against her chest and seemed to rake in great gulps of air. Lover or not, Grace thought, she was very much an innocent.

  “Do you remember what I said to you?” Grace asked. She sorely hoped so because she, herself, had no recollection of the words she’d said while in trance.

  “Yes,” Kamala gulped. “It would be impossible to forget.”

  “Good.” Grace rose and made to go. Outside the day was bright and people were busy at chores. “Thank you for the tea, Kamala.” She smiled down at the young woman. “Congratulations on your wedding. I hope you will be happy.”

  “Happy?” Kamala echoed in a strained voice. Bursting into tears, she left her chair and threw herself at Grace’s feet again, this time crying, “Thank you, thank you!” through her tears. “You are truly of the Goddess! I thank you for the blessing! I—I am so grateful, I cannot say! Thank you!”

  Grace let the girl say her thanks, relegating them all to t
he Goddess, knowing the uninitiated felt the need to express their adoration in such ways. Then she carefully untangled Kamala’s arms from around her legs and moved toward the door.

  “Goodbye, Kamala. Be blessed.”

  Outside the air was still cool but alive with sun and sounds. Grace walked back to her cabin at an easy pace, seeing the way as if for the first time today. She noted the small flowers that held their faces open to the sun and the new green that flashed emerald in the forest floor. Another beautiful day.

  The following day, Balat kept Grace indoors and closeted away in her old, small corner where no sunlight would strike her eyes. He brewed a special tea of rare, almost unobtainable plants and bade her drink it while the sun was high. Then he covered her eyes with a black cloth and had her lie resting while the sun dropped bit by bit toward the horizon. As he watched the sun he spoke to Grace, chanting an old prayer that she took in without hearing, succumbing to the trance it induced without hearing the words. At full sundown when the time was right, he came to her and raised her from the pallet and took the cloth from her eyes.

  Startled in the slow-motion way that comes in dreams, Grace realized she could see as well as at midday, yet the world was dark. Her eyes felt alive and questing, devouring the images that everywhere were clear and sharp. For a fleeting moment, she was a night creature—a wolf, a bat, a taloned owl. When she looked at Balat, he was at once a friendly image and the shape of an enemy.

  “Do you know me, Grace?” his voice asked softly.

  Grace felt the animalness retreating somewhat, but not entirely. “Yes.”

  “Good.” Balat led her to the door of the cabin. “Go to James. Take him a vision of his Goddess.”

  Grace left the cabin and moved surely through the forest, confidant but wary, a she-wolf on an errand. Although she was fully aware of the distant voices that still called from the fields and the chattering of a jay overhead, neither disturbed her; neither distracted her from her way. She was lithe and swift and focused, and moved with the surety of a being of power.

  James’ cabin lay ahead. Grace caught the faint scent of cut wood, the last fading reminder that his cabin was the latest built, cut and assembled only last summer. She caught also his scent—nervous, wary, afraid. She smiled to herself, and it felt like the mouth-stretching grin of a wolf.

  She paused at the door. Her ears picked up the small sounds of rustling inside as James paced, sat, paced. She raised a hand and rapped on the door. The sounds stopped.

  She cocked her head, listening, sensing. He was hesitant. Would he let her in? She strained to hear and caught only the sound of a ragged, gulping breath. The scent of fear was oozing from the cabin. Would he let her in?

  A boot sole scuffed the wooden floor inside. Another. His hand was on the latch; she could sense it. Through the door she looked and sensed his fingers clasping the handle, unsure, slicked with sweat. Would he open it?

  The latch moved; the door swung open.

  James screamed, a harsh, strangled sound, and fell backward across the room, stumbling until his shoulders rammed against the far wall. His eyes were huge in his face and although he held a hand up before them as if to keep himself from seeing, still he looked and could not keep his eyes from Grace’s face. The vision of the half-human she-wolf before him drove him almost mad with fear and he tried to scream again but only succeeded in choking himself. Coughing, he slumped onto the floor and awaited his death.

  “Be still,” Grace commanded sharply. In her half trance, she thought her voice sounded harsh and guttural. Whatever the sound, it jolted James into silence. She ghosted across the threshold and closed the door behind her. In the sequestered darkness she relaxed somewhat although, if possible, James’ eyes only widened more. Grace was gratified to see he was much too frightened to try to escape.

  “Goddess—” he started, his voice breaking.

  “Be still.” Grace paced a bit, her feet padding softly on the wooden floor. Although only her bare feet touched the boards, the cabin echoed softly with what sounded like the tapping of claws.

  “You know of the wolf?” Grace asked bluntly. “The she-wolf?”

  James hesitated for a small moment as if weighing the consequences of a wrong answer, then nodded and said, “Yes.”

  “You know how she keeps to her mate, how she is faithful to death?”

  James swallowed painfully at the mention of death. “Yes.”

  Grace stopped pacing and faced him, pinning him with her eyes. He could hardly bear to meet her eyes directly and turned his face away so as to only glance at her obliquely.

  “And as a mother?” Grace queried.

  “A—a mother?” Unsure if he understood, James hesitated, but the displeased look on Grace’s face quickly prompted him to answer. He rushed to get the words out. “As a mother, she is—she is protective, and, and vigilant and she hunts tirelessly and, and ...”

  “And for the time that she rears her pups, she is all-mother and allows not even her mate to threaten them, for during that time she would first tear him to pieces than see him harm them.” Grace impaled James with a savage stare. “Have you ever seen a she-wolf tear another animal to pieces?”

  In the darkness of the cabin, James paled. He tried to scramble backward, lurched against the wall again and sat quiet, shaking. “N-no,” he stammered.

  “But you can imagine,” she said.

  Perspiring now, he nodded.

  “So the she-wolf protects all that is hers, her pups first, then her mate, her family, her territory. She will die to defend what is hers, but first—always first—are her pups. You will remember that, won’t you?”

  “Oh, yes!” James was enthusiastic with fright.

  Grace nodded, and began to pace again. Click, click, click.

  “However, pups do not stay pups forever and they grow and become strong and become capable individuals. Then the she-wolf drives them out so they will form families of their own. Children cannot be kept beyond the time of childhood.” She fixed James with those moon-bright eyes.

  “No,” he agreed quickly.

  “And when the pups have been driven out, then the she-wolf courts her mate again and becomes the All-Faithful. And although she was less a mate than a mother during the pups’ rearing, she will require that mate now and he must be there for her. Some would say this to be unfair, that the male must wait on the periphery while the female gives her all to her young, but this is how life is continued in an unbroken chain, and that chain has no thought for what is fair and what is not. Do you see that?”

  “Perfectly,” he said.

  “But perhaps the most important thing to remember,” Grace continued, “is that a she-wolf is a she-wolf always, and cannot be a dog or goat no matter how much we might wish it. A she-wolf is a creation of the Goddess, above all else, and as such deserves to be honored and accepted completely for what she is.” She faced James. “You would never try to break a wolf to harness, would you?”

  “No, never.”

  “I thought not.” Click, click, click. “And then, beyond that, a she-wolf that is accepted and honored may in turn accept and honor her mate in the way he requires, for he, too, is a creation of the Goddess.” She stopped before him. “The Goddess resides in all of us. She is in you, James. Do you see Her light?”

  Grace thrust out her hand at James and at that sudden bidding James was horrified to see a golden beam of light leap from his chest. It shone out of him as a brilliant ray, looking for all the world as if he had swallowed the sun and it blazed from a hole in him. Almost faint with terror, James scrabbled at the wall behind him, as if he might actually claw his way through it. Wordless sounds of panic exploded from him.

  “Silence!” Grace roared, and the cabin seemed to shake. “You are in no pain.”

  Almost as if he needed to hear those words to understand, he stopped thrashing and dared to feel if it were true. The light still burned from within him but he was unhurt. Relieved but still anxious, he loo
ked to Grace.

  “I—no,” he agreed finally. “I—I feel no pain.”

  “Of course not. This is the force of the Goddess and the Goddess is within you.” Grace stepped closer, her features becoming clear to James for the first time that evening. The vision of the she-wolf shimmered and faded and in its place stood Grace, young, lovely, human. “You are Her and She is you; you are at once separate and inseparable. She resides within you, yet cloaks you like a mantle of light.” And at a movement of Grace’s hands, the light that shone from James’ heart began to radiate outward, flaring out to envelope his entire body in its glow. Too fascinated to be afraid, James watched in wonder as the light expanded and clothed him, sheathed him in its brilliance. When the light pulsed all around him in an aura of gold, he looked up at Grace in pleased awe.

  “Do you see the Goddess within you?” she asked him softly.

  “Oh, yes. Yes, I see. I—”

  “She resides in you and in Kamala. Never doubt that; never forget it. You do Her work when you love and honor your wife. You do Her work when you love and honor your children. You do Her work when you live out your life in a way that brings happiness to your home.”

  “Yes,” he murmured in agreement.

  Grace nodded once. “Be blessed,” she said in a soft, distant voice. “Sleep and be blessed. Close your eyes, James. Sleep until tomorrow. Lie in the arms of the Goddess tonight and dream golden dreams and be all-blessed in your love. Sleep, James. Sleep and dream. Sleep and dream.”

  Grace watched as James’ body slumped against the wall; his breathing deepened and his head rolled sideways. He began to snore softly.

  Smiling to herself, Grace tiptoed quietly to the door. She let herself out silently and picked her way through the dark forest. Overhead the sliver of moon and a few stars shimmered, but their light was less than minimal and they were unable to brighten the dark night.