Goddess Rising

by Melissa Bowersock

  He sought her out occasionally, always for good reason. She more often than not referred him to Abel for whatever his needs and he seemed willing enough to do as she asked. She didn’t trust him, though, and she didn’t like the way he looked at Khassis.

  Hannah had a particular aversion to the Marked Ones and avoided them as much as possible. The story of their ritual sickened her and she found herself unable to even meet their eyes, much less view the mutilation they had inflicted on each other in her name. At first, a few of the more outgoing ones had tried to have an audience with her, their patroness, but Hannah had been too revolted to receive them. Finally she had asked Greer’s help in keeping them away from her.

  “I will do what I can to protect you from them,” Greer agreed. Then, studying Hannah, she said, “This is so unlike you. Usually you are much more accepting of things than I am. It distresses me to see you so upset.”

  Hannah hugged herself to ward off a chill. “You don’t want Celedon near you, either.”

  “No, I don’t,” Greer agreed. “But I am quicker to judge than you are.”

  “Well,” Hannah said, and Greer could see the fear in her eyes belied the casual tone of her words, “I guess it is my time to be judgmental, then. But I don’t want them near me.”

  “I will see to it,” Greer promised.

  Unfortunately Greer had to abandon that promise when Megan became ill. The girl developed a sickness of sleep that Hannah had never seen before and slept almost constantly. She was not in a coma for she could be roused and made to eat but then, after only a few moments, she would slip back into the arms of a deep, dreamless sleep. After some days of this, she began to visibly lose strength.

  Hannah, Greer, Khassis and Cananea took turns sitting with her, making sure someone was there every moment with her, but none of their methods seemed to help. Megan’s own mother came and joined the vigil in the Sanctuary, although her weeping concern seemed to do more harm than good. Greer was grim, Hannah was frustrated and Khassis and Cananea did their share silently and without hope.

  One day Reyes showed up at the door of the Sanctuary. Cananea left him in the meeting room and alerted Greer and Hannah, who ate sparingly in the common room while Khassis was with Megan.

  “One of the Marked Ones is here to see you,” she told Greer. “It is the nice one—Reyes.”

  Hannah rose abruptly from the table. “I will be in my room.”

  Greer sighed. She waited until Hannah had closed her door, then asked Cananea to show Reyes in.

  He bowed low before her, his long hair swinging in front of the Mark.

  “My Lady,” he said respectfully.

  “Please, be seated,” Greer offered. She was too tired to be formal. “What may I do for you?”

  “Not what you may do for me,” Reyes said, “but what I may do for you.” He took the offered chair. “You have a sick child here.”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me about her illness.”

  Greer did. When she was done, Reyes asked a few more qualifying questions, to all of which Greer thought long and hard and finally answered affirmatively. She was surprised at his astuteness.

  “Do you know what it is?” she asked, excitement rousing in her.

  “Possibly,” he said with a slight hesitation. “It sounds similar to a disease that was common in my homeland.”

  “Where is that?”

  Reyes inclined his head. “To the south. There is a plant there that we use. I have not seen it in your valley. My homeland has a much warmer temperature than here.”

  Greer felt hope slip from her. “Do you think you could find some?”

  He gestured uncertainty. “I do not know. Would you like me to try?”

  “Yes!”

  Reyes nodded. “Very well. I will try.”

  “Wait,” Greer said, catching his hand. “If you looked at her, could you say for certain what disease it is?”

  “Possibly,” the man said again.

  Greer was unsure if his humility were genuine or not, but at that moment she didn’t care. She led him to Megan’s room, and when Khassis glared at his presence, Greer went to her love and drew him out of the room.

  “What is he doing here?” Khassis hissed angrily.

  “Offering to help Megan,” Greer said.

  “We don’t need his help,” Khassis pronounced.

  Greer took Khassis’ hand and stared levelly into his eyes. “Are we curing her so miraculously that we need not consider all alternatives?” she asked gently.

  Khassis flushed with anger and shame, then cast his eyes down. “I’m sorry, Greer. I’m a fool.”

  “My beloved fool,” she told him. “I think I know how you feel, but Reyes is not Celedon, and if he can save Megan, we must let him try. We cannot sacrifice her life for our pride.”

  “No, of course not. You are right.” He sighed. “And I think I am very tired.”

  Greer reached up and kissed his cheek lovingly. “Why don’t you go rest, and I will sit with Megan now.”

  Just then Reyes came out of Megan’s room. He bowed respectfully to Khassis, then faced Greer. His eyes were intent.

  “Is it the same?” Greer prompted.

  “I believe so,” he nodded.

  “And if you find your plant, you can cure her?”

  “Possibly.” He met her eyes levelly, and for the first time Greer saw the anguish there, and genuine doubt. This was no act.

  “Then, please,” Greer said, touching his arm gently, “please do what you can.”

  Reyes bowed low. “I will leave at once.”

  Greer and Hannah sat together with Megan that night. Megan’s mother, drained by grief, had collapsed and they had put her in Hannah’s room with Cananea. Khassis slept the sleep of the dead in his own room. The Sanctuary was quiet.

  “Have you any faith in this ... Marked One?” Hannah asked after a long interval of night-filled silence. She watched Megan’s small chest rise and fall shallowly.

  “Yes,” Greer said softly. “I must, or ... we have lost.” She turned away from Megan and faced Hannah. “This one is so unlike Celedon, Hannah. He cares; I could see it in his eyes.”

  “Yet he submitted to that ... Mark.” Hannah shivered.

  “Who can say what their reasoning was on that?” Greer mused. “But we must stay open, if only for Megan’s sake.”

  The night stretched out, long and silent and uneventful. The women barely shifted in their chairs; Megan stirred not at all. The pale morning stars began to wheel down toward the west.

  Then in the gray time, before light had gathered enough to pierce the thick gray of predawn, Greer heard a sound out in the common room. Hannah had finally dozed. Greer thought it might be Cananea up early to fix tea, or Khassis. She decided to wait a few moments before rousing Hannah.

  A small scratching rasped on the door. Tea so soon, she wondered. She got up and opened the door.

  “Reyes!” she whispered.

  The man looked awful. His bare feet and legs were caked with dirt, his long hair was tangled and matted with leaves and he had scratches on his arms that were smeared with blood. But he held up a small plant and the smile on his face was triumphant.

  Greer stepped with him outside the room and shut the door quietly.

  “This is it?” she asked.

  “Yes. It was all I could find, but it should be enough.”

  “What must we do?”

  “Boil it down into a tea. We can sweeten it with honey, then get as much of it down the child as possible.”

  “Follow me.”

  While Greer saw to the steeping of the plant, following Reyes’ directions exactly, he told her of his journey. He’d gone southward out over the low hilly edge of the valley to the level land beyond, where he had run and run and run. In the darkness his way was rough and ill-seen; he had fallen more than once and had scraped the arm on a knife-edged tree limb. When he’d reached an area that seemed more familiarly like his homeland, he had beg
un to search. The plant was small and grew isolated, usually between rocks. He had clawed his way across a basin of such rock, scrabbling across the shadowy surfaces in the dark until he’d come upon the one small, promising plant. Plucking it from its rocky home, he had tucked it securely in his robe and had run, limping, back to the valley.

  “Here,” Greer said, handing him a warm, moist cloth. “Do those scratches pain you?”

  “Not badly,” he said, but he took the cloth and gentled the blood and grime away. By the time Megan’s medicine was ready, he looked halfway human again.

  “Shall we spoon it to her?” Greer asked as they walked back to Megan’s room. The rosy hue of dawn softened the Sanctuary.

  “Yes, carefully. The plant was small, so we should not waste any. If she takes it all, it may be enough.”

  Greer saw the grim determination in his eyes. “Here,” she said, handing him the crock. “You do it. Your hands are steadier than mine.”

  Quietly they reentered the room. Both Hannah and Megan slept still. While Reyes crouched near the girl, Greer stood at her head and roused her with low calls and gentle touches. When Megan opened her eyes—dull eyes, filmed with sickness—Greer helped her into a more upright position and Reyes spoon-fed as much of the medicine to her as she would take. Carefully he placed it to her lips, cajoling, pleading, insisting, coaxing, until she parted her lips and swallowed. When some of the liquid threatened to spill down her chin, Reyes scooped it up carefully and fed her more. When Megan began to drowse off, he called her softly and spoke to her, asking her questions to which he got no answer but a dull stare. It was enough to keep her awake. He got the medicine down her. When the crock was empty, Greer helped Megan slide back down on her pallet and the girl was instantly asleep.

  “Now,” he said quietly, “we wait.”

  “How long?” Greer asked.

  He looked out the window, gauging time. “We should know by late afternoon or early evening at the latest.”

  Greer nodded. She watched Megan sleep, and hoped it was enough. Then remembering Hannah, she looked over to her friend.

  Hannah’s eyes were riveted on Reyes.

  CHAPTER 29

  The new respect that Hannah found for Reyes just barely exceeded her revulsion by the Mark; when Megan’s fever broke late that afternoon, Hannah went to him where he sat beyond the Sanctuary under a tree and haltingly, reluctantly, asked him about the miracle plant. Reyes, thrilled that his cure had been successful and that his patroness would speak to him, nevertheless kept his replies short and respectful. Hannah’s aversion to the Mark was not unknown and Reyes understood how difficult it was for her to approach him. He sat to one side, facing away—shielding her from the sight of the Mark—and replied quietly to all her questions. Greer watched from the window of the Sanctuary and thought she could see the hesitation and uncertainty of each melt gradually into ease as they spoke, healer to healer. Pleased, she returned to sit with Khassis beside Megan.

  When it became known that one of the Marked Ones had healed Megan when Hannah and Greer could not, there was suddenly a new dimension to these strangers and people of varying opinions were forced to reevaluate their prejudices. Some still distrusted the strangers and ruled the cure a fluke; others thought their piety must, after all, be real, or Reyes could not have succeeded. Still others looked at Reyes individually and revised their opinion of him, while leaving the rest until such time as they, also, distinguished themselves individually. In that way, the colony was not without a knotty topic of discussion that summer.

  But it was the incident of the autumnal equinox that shattered the colony’s peace.

  The ceremony of the equinox had gone pleasantly enough. Greer had presided over the sunrising with a heartfelt calm and when the blaze of sun had starred the Goddess-stone and scattered joyous spectrums of colored light all about the walls of the Sanctuary, everyone present had laughed and clapped and cheered. It seemed a good omen indeed, for the uncertain times.

  The next morning that was all forgotten.

  For sometime during the night, someone—some crazed, unfaithful, over-proud and over-jealous someone—had slashed across the inside wall of the gathering room of the Sanctuary in a dark, blood-red hue:

  THE GODDESS WILL LIVE FOREVER

  YOU WILL NOT

  Greer, called from bed by a hysterical Cananea and a stricken Hannah, stood before the message and felt the blood drain out of her. For a moment, she swayed, light-headed, but then Khassis was guiding her to her chair and she sat heavily and dragged in blood-restoring breaths. She scrubbed her face as if to wash away the vision of the blood-red words, but when she opened her eyes, they were still there, screaming their silent prophecy. The few people outside the Sanctuary looked in through the windows, aghast, frightened, and soon the vandalism was known throughout the colony.

  Jeh was the first to show up at the Sanctuary to pledge his protection.

  “I see now why I felt the need to come to you,” he said solemnly. “Although I wish to the Goddess that it had not been necessary. I would gladly have given up the chance to see you in your greatness to save seeing you in this pain.”

  “Dear Jeh,” she smiled wanly. They sat at the table in the private quarters, Greer across from Jeh with her disciples and acolytes flanking her. “I appreciate you greatly, but we all know there is no changing what has happened. The dark face of the Goddess has shone upon us; we must find out now what She wishes to teach us.”

  “But the threat—!” Jeh exclaimed. “Learning Her lessons, you could die.”

  “And dying, could learn,” Greer added quietly.

  There was sound in the gathering room, voices and feet scraping across stone. The blessed ones, as a body, went to see who it was.

  “Greer, are you all right?” It was Abel at his tallest and most vital. He studied the corners of the gathering room suspiciously and held a shovel with a restless, flexing hand. Behind him others pressed, equally armed, equally determined to protect their Lady.

  “Yes, Abel. I am fine.” For a moment, she saw again the young, intense, Goddess-touched stepfather of her youth, the lone stranger that stayed to become her friend. She felt warm with gratitude, and went and kissed his cheek. “I am fine.”

  Behind him, Asherah rose up like a dark, tall tree, solid but supple. She had a bucket in one hand, a brush in another. Beside her, Ankutse had a pair of similar weapons.

  “We’ve come to scrub out the filth in this place,” Ankutse boomed. “We’ll erase the blasphemy from your walls.”

  “And see no one does it again!” someone shouted from the back. A cheer of half agreement, half dare cycled through the crowd. Spurred by their own bravado, they surged to the offending wall and began to slather whitewash across the red in huge, slashing strokes. They attacked the wall and its message with loud, righteous indignation.

  “Whoever did this can’t be let go,” Abel said as he watched the message disappear beneath the fresh whitewash. “We’ll find them.”

  Greer was grimly amused. “How?”

  Abel scowled at her quick but sympathetic thrust.

  “There is nothing you can do,” she said quietly. “Put down your sticks and shovels. What would you do, go house to house and search each one for a pot of red dye? And what if you found one? Or ten? No, there is nothing. The resolution of this thing will cycle itself as it must.” She laid a hand on her stepfather’s arm. “Thank you, Abel.”

  A murmur from the people gathered outside heralded the approach of someone else. A way was opened through the crowd and after a moment Reyes entered the Sanctuary.

  Wide-eyed, he passed a glance over Greer and Hannah, then noted the wall where Asherah and Ankutse had almost obliterated the red.

  “It’s true, then,” he said to himself. Quickly he crossed to Greer and Hannah. “No one was hurt?”

  “No,” Hannah assured him. Her eyes dropped momentarily to the white cloth he had taken to wrapping about his neck and she smiled gratefully
to him. “No, we are all fine. It was just the ... writing.”

  “How did you hear of it?” Abel asked a bit sharply.

  Reyes failed to notice the suspicion. “How could I not? There are some out there in a frenzy of fear. Some are packing belongings, ready to leave.” He looked to Greer. “You may be able to stop them.”

  Greer sighed heavily. She felt drained. “No, I don’t think so. They are free to go if that is what they think best.”

  “But the colony?” Reyes said. “The New Order? What of it if everyone leaves?”

  “Everyone will not leave.”

  Celedon’s voice cut through the tension in the Sanctuary and drew all eyes. He pushed through the crowded doorway. He was intense, his emotions high, and they infused his Mark with a dark red pulsing. Hannah looked away.

  “No one will leave,” he repeated. “I have set men at each road to calm them and return them to their homes. They will realize later that this was just a foolish reaction.” He dismissed that subject and turned to a new one: the message. “But this,” he said, gesturing expansively at the wet, gleaming whitewash, “cannot be allowed to happen again. Our most sacred Sanctuary and the women of the Goddess have been threatened. We cannot allow any more trespass in this place. I have set a guard here so that from this day forward our Sanctuary and our Lady will be protected.”

  A murmur raced through the crowd, half agreement, half shock.

  “A guard?” Khassis demanded.

  “That is not necessary,” Greer said.

  “What kind of guard?” Reyes asked.

  Celedon considered them all with a lofty air. To Greer, he said, “I disagree, my Lady. I believe it infinitely necessary or else the madman who wrote this may believe it his duty to carry out the threat. He might succeed in killing you.”

  Greer was unmoved. “I am in the Goddess’ hands. Whatever She wills for me, I will do.”

  “And leave us less-blessed ones without a lamp in the dark?” Celedon cried. He turned toward the people gathered at the doorway and saw the answering fear in their eyes. “Leave us without the Prophetess of the Goddess to guide our colony?” People nodded and murmured in agreement. “Leave us without our oracle, without our guide?”