Goddess Rising

by Melissa Bowersock

  “Shh,” Greer said, squeezing Hannah’s hands. “Shh, Hannah. I’ll hear no more talk of betrayal. You vowed your life to me and I accepted it. Now you ask for it back and I will accept that. You are my friend, Hannah, not my slave. You are the sister of my heart, my friend, my love, my mother, my daughter. You are the face of the Goddess to me, as your child will be. No, I will never fault you, Hannah. You must do as you must. It is all any of us can do.”

  “Come with us!” Hannah begged. “You and Khassis, both. Come with us. We’ll go somewhere, start over, begin again. Maybe someday, you and Khassis might ...”

  Greer was already shaking her head. “No. I cannot. My place is here.”

  “To do what?” Hannah asked. “To watch Celedon destroy everything you created? To watch your people slip away, one by one, into the night? Why must you stay?”

  Greer stared out the window at the pulsing star. “I don’t know, but I must. I have done my wandering. Sometimes I almost feel I have done my work, too, and there is no more. I don’t know.” She looked back at Hannah, suddenly uncertain. “Was it all for nothing, Hannah? Have we lived out our lives to no purpose? Was it only an empty dream we had?”

  “No!” Hannah said fiercely. “No, Greer, it was not! It was real and good and worthy. It was necessary. I don’t know why it’s all falling apart now but it was good, Greer. It was!”

  Greer smiled sadly. “Sometimes I wonder. But then,” she said, suddenly solemn, “I feel the Goddess touch my heart, and I know it was good and true and necessary. I don’t know if I have accomplished anything or not but I know I have done what I was born to do. We have acted out our little play on our little planet and Venus up there has seen it. I don’t know what that means but it seems the acting out is for its own sake. So we have done what we ought.” She turned back to Hannah. “Enough of that. What of you and Reyes? How will you go? Remember the guards.”

  “We have,” Hannah said, wiping tear tracks for the last time. “Reyes has a plan. He’ll go and distract the guards and allow me to slip out the window of the girls’ old room; the shadows are deepest there. Then we will go south, toward his homeland. He’s going to show me that miracle plant of his.”

  “Good for you,” Greer said with genuine joy. “Come on, let’s go find the men. Khassis and I can watch and be sure you are not noticed.”

  Reyes and Khassis were ready. They had already discussed the lovers’ plan and Khassis had added his own thoughts. Once Hannah was safely gone and Reyes had excused himself from the company of the Marked Ones, Khassis and Greer could create a small diversion to draw the guards’ attention, thereby giving the escaping lovers that much more time to travel safely away. And, Greer added, they could even add days to that, putting out a story that Reyes was ill and Hannah nursed him vigilantly, thereby keeping their disappearance a secret even longer. Together the four of them refined all the angles, all the details, until the plan was perfect. When they all felt it was the best it could be, they acted on it.

  They all embraced.

  “Goodbye, Hannah,” Greer whispered fiercely. “Take care of that child. She will be our new hope.”

  “‘She?’” Hannah asked. “Is this the oracle?”

  Greer smiled. “I don’t know. I feel it is a girl but I don’t know. That’s just me.”

  “I hope you are right,” Hannah beamed at Reyes. “A daughter of the Goddess.”

  “Go in peace,” Khassis said, hugging both Hannah and Reyes.

  “Take care,” Reyes said. “Thank you both. For your friendship, your kindness, your love.”

  “And you for yours,” Greer said. She felt tears coming on. “Now go. Quickly, before the darkness fades.”

  The plan worked perfectly. Khassis and Greer bundled Hannah out the window and watched her melt into the night. When Reyes had signaled his leave, they dropped a crock in the larder and then took pains to soothe the guards that muttered about the noise. By false dawn, the Marked Ones were all asleep, Hannah and Reyes were hours away and Greer and Khassis were silently awaiting the sunrise.

  “Another day,” Greer said to her love as the sun crested. She clung to his hand with a mixture of pain and joy. “Another day of the Goddess’ creation.”

  The approach of the vernal equinox seemed to have no joy attached to it. The anticipation of spring seemed to have a deadness about it, as if the platitudes that people spoke were by rote only, with no real joy to them. The lie that had crept into the colony now fed on it like a disease in the blood, sucking the life from it. Greer could see no end to it.

  Celedon had been enraged by the escape of Reyes and Hannah. He railed at Greer as much as he dared and heaped insults on Khassis, but finally took out his anger on less notable beings. His Marked Ones found another family slipping out of the valley and brought them back so that Celedon could strip them of all their belongings; then he had an escort of Marked Ones take them to the mouth of the high mountain pass and leave them. Cold, alone and unsupplied, the little family went out into the high country to try their best to survive.

  “I could kill him,” Khassis suggested to Greer through tight jaws when they heard about it. “I could wait until he was alone and finish what his Mark left undone.”

  “And put your soul into debt in future lives?” Greer asked sanely. “That is not how I want to see you then, owing him. We must stay clear.”

  Khassis grumbled, “I’m not sure I can.”

  Greer awoke on the morning of the equinox feeling heavy and drained. She was dismayed by the small amount of people who came; the numbers of the faithful had fallen drastically. More, she was told, still lived in the valley but stayed away from the ceremony. There was talk of disbelief in the Goddess; disbelief in anything but the flesh, the material, the self. Some said there was no Goddess, or She had abandoned them. Some said Greer had broken the Goddess’ promise; some said it was Celedon. Most didn’t know but looked to Greer for help.

  The ceremony of the sunrise seemed a pointless and unimportant thing as Greer stared out at the small group before her, hope and despair in their eyes. The last of her friends were there: Abel, Jeh, Asherah, Carol and Donnie, Ankutse, Kyra, Nidia, and Cananea. They looked to her for freedom from their pain, for peace, for happiness. They looked to her for joy and healing and wholeness. They looked to her for spirit and for love; for salvation.

  Ignoring the brightening of the east, Greer surveyed the casualties before her. “I do not have what you seek,” she told them, answering the silent pleas. “I can not give you what you ask for. It is not in me.”

  People shifted uneasily.

  “But Lady,” Ankutse said, “you are the face of the Goddess. You are Her instrument. Bless us; give us Her love. If you cannot give it, who can?”

  Greer shook her head wearily. “I do not have it. The Goddess is me, but I am not She. Do you understand that?” She searched the faces and found no understanding of what she said. “I am not She. I have only a small part of Her within me, as you do. All of you do. She dwells in all of us. I cannot bless you if you do not bless yourselves. How can I save you if you do not save yourselves?”

  “Then what must we do?” Asherah asked. “There is greed and envy all around us; there is distrust and lies. What must we do?”

  “Stop your own pain,” Greer said in clear, ringing tones. “You have that power. What must you do to stop your pain?”

  Murmurs. Whispers.

  “Leave?” Carol said. “Leave, as so many have already?”

  “Many of us have traveled before,” Abel said. “We can travel again.”

  “But leave the place of the Goddess?” David asked.

  “Every place is of the Goddess,” Greer declared. “She does not dwell only in this valley. She is everywhere; in tree and stone and hill and starlight. She is in water and fruit and animal. She is in you. You take Her with you wherever you go. You are never alone, never without Her.”

  “And do what?” Nidia asked.

  “Live Her truth.
Live the life She has given you, feel the joy and the sorrow and the love. Be one with Her. Be as She is; be yourself.”

  There was fearful murmuring and doubts and uncertainty. The people whispered and shifted nervously.

  “But you are here,” Nidia said. Old now, she had lived her life waiting for the Sibling. “The Goddess-stone is here; the Sanctuary. Nowhere else has all these signs of Her.”

  “You don’t need signs,” Greer argued, becoming impatient. “Why won’t you see? She is not in brick, in stone only. She is in you. Where you go, She will be.”

  They didn’t believe. They didn’t like it. They felt adrift, disconnected, alone, frightened. Greer saw it in their eyes.

  “You want signs?” she cried. “All right, I’ll give you signs. I’ll give you the Goddess to put in your pockets and pack away with you. Each of you shall have a piece of Her.”

  And Greer grabbed up the Goddess-stone and held it high over her head. Sunlight shot from the horizon and exploded in the stone, dazzling the Sanctuary in stars of light and color. The stone burned and glittered and shone. It flashed and blinded.

  “Here is your Goddess,” Greer called out. “Here is your sign. Take it.” She heaved the stone down onto the floor. “Take it and go.”

  The stone shattered into a million pieces, splinters of crystal and shards of lava flying everywhere. The floor of the Sanctuary was alive with dark and light and color, all dancing, rolling, shooting outward. The pieces of stone clattered and bounced and struck flesh and drew blood.

  “Take it!” Greer commanded. “Take your Goddess-stone! Take whatever you need to find Her in; I do not have Her.” She shook her head wearily. “I am only human, like you. I am not the Goddess.”

  Weeks later, the first signs of spring appeared. Birds flocked to the valley and new grass sprang up, emerald and bright.

  The renewal seemed to go unnoticed.

  “In Balat’s colony,” Greer told Khassis one evening, “the air would be ringing with the sound of people readying their field implements. There is no sound here.”

  “Do you wonder?” Khassis asked sourly. “Most have gone. Those that remain are confused, broken, spiritless. They don’t know what to do.”

  Greer sighed heavily. “And you, Khassis? Do you blame me for this loss? Do you believe I have failed, also?”

  Khassis looked uncomfortable. “I am not sure what I believe,” he said. “You are the Sibling. You were prophesied.” He looked pained. “I don’t understand why you have allowed it all to crumble away.”

  Greer sat close to him and locked his eyes with hers. “Do you know what I have been, Khassis? Do you know what, as the Sibling, I have done? I have been a beacon that has drawn people together in an atmosphere of love and trust. I have been a light that has shone on the best traits of those people, and set them sparkling like gems in the sun. But all else that was accomplished here was done by others. Don’t you see? I did not build this colony; I did not bring the Goddess here. These people did. And if it has broken down, they have done that, also. They have all the power and all the strength they need to make whatever kind of life they choose.”

  “But you are the Sibling,” Khassis argued. “You are the one they worship.”

  Greer stood up abruptly and began to pace. “I am a woman!” she insisted. “A mere human ordinary woman, just like the others. How can they worship me when I am the same as they? I have no more of the Goddess in me than they.” She came back to Khassis, pleading with her eyes. “She is the only one who is worthy of worship and She lives in all of us. She lives in you, Khassis and yet you look to me for answers. I have none for you.”

  Seeing the pain in her, the exhaustion, Khassis held out his arms to her and she came and nestled against him. “I am sorry if I have asked you for more than you can give, Greer. I try not to make demands on you.”

  “I know,” Greer said. She relaxed gratefully in his arms.

  Khassis was quiet for some long moments. Greer almost thought he might sleep but his breathing never dropped into that slow, drifting depth. Finally, he spoke.

  “Do you know why it is so fearful to hear you say you are only as much the Goddess as I and you have no answers?”

  Greer shook her head.

  “Because,” Khassis said slowly, piecing it out, “that means that I am as capable and as responsible as you for living a life of truth and love. That means I cannot ask you to bless me, to save me, to forgive me. If you are no more divine than I, then I can—must—do all those things for myself. I must be ... my own God.”

  The truth rang out silently, like an ethereal bell that tolled in the spirit realm, only the ripples of its vibrations a soft touch on the skin. Greer felt the silent sound of it and chilled as if the breath of the Goddess flowed over her.

  “Yes,” she said softly. “I see that, now. I see why no one wants to hear that. It’s not very comforting and very demanding. And we all want so badly for someone else to take care of us.”

  “And it can never happen,” Khassis said.

  The next morning, Khassis arose early and made the morning meal. By the time Greer awoke, the table was already laden with fruit and bread and cheese. In the silence of the Sanctuary—the sound of the loss of too many friends—they celebrated the new day and the bounty of the Goddess.

  “What is that you have?” Greer asked. They normally drank tea or water but Khassis had a mug of something else.

  “Fresh milk,” he said, savoring the smell of it. He held the mug beneath his nose and breathed deeply. “Someone just left this by the door this morning. Do you want some?”

  “Everyone knows I don’t like milk,” Greer reminded him. “Water tastes much sweeter to me.”

  “Mmm,” he said in anticipation. “I haven’t had milk in a long time. And I couldn’t have asked for fresher.”

  He brought the mug to his mouth and pursed his lips to drink. Just before the liquid touched his lips, the cup was dashed from his hand and the milk splattered across the floor in a far-flung pattern.

  “Greer!” he yelped, immediately piqued. “Why did you do that?”

  “That was a drink of death,” a low throaty voice said with Greer’s mouth. “There was a blackness there, the blackness of death. Your enemies are about and wait no more.”

  Recognizing the voice of the oracle and the glazed, blank look on Greer’s face, Khassis paled in horror. “Poison?” he asked.

  “The first of many. Poisons of the body, poisons of the mind and of the soul. Your enemies are about. They will not rest until you have stood down, by choice ... or not.”

  “Celedon—” Khassis started angrily.

  “Celedon is one,” the oracle said, interrupting. “Do you know the others? Can you name the nine?”

  Khassis was stunned. “Nine? There are nine others who would murder me?”

  “To clear the way to the Sibling, yes. Can you withstand them? They will not rest until you are gone.”

  Overwhelmed, Khassis put his head in his hands, and trembled. How could he fight ten? Especially if they used such covert methods? He would have to watch every bite of food, every morsel. He would not be safe for a moment.

  Raising his head, he asked in a breathless whisper, “What can I do?” But the oracle was gone. Greer slumped in her chair, her eyes drowsing, unfocused. Quickly Khassis went to her, steadying her, bringing water—clear, untainted water—to her lips. She drank a few sips and, rousing, waved him away.

  She touched her temple where a tender ache was seeping away and searched Khassis’ face.

  “The oracle was here?” she questioned, all but knowing.

  Khassis nodded. He wondered fleetingly if he could lie to her.

  “Tell me,” she commanded.

  And he knew he could not. Half tearful, he repeated the warnings. With each word, Greer’s anger and fear grew.

  “Ten?” she repeated. “How are we to defend you against ten?”

  Khassis shook his head. The nearness of death left h
im afraid. He could not deny it. He had watched Joel die and that familiarity had done nothing to comfort him. He did not feel ready to surrender to the dark arms of shadow.

  “We must get you away from here,” Greer said suddenly. “Away from Celedon.”

  “And leave you?” Khassis cried. “I can’t.”

  “You must.” She jumped to her feet and began to pace. “I am safe enough; we both know that. Celedon won’t hurt me. But you must leave. We can’t protect your back every minute. And I doubt the oracle will be so considerate as to warn us every time.”

  “But Greer,” he said, “I pledged my life to you. How can I leave you alone?”

  “You pledged your life to me as I am the face of the Goddess—or the God. You will not be breaking that pledge, for now you know that you are the face of your own God, as I could never be. You must go, Khassis, and take this truth out of the valley to whoever will listen. Go as Hannah has gone, to live the life of truth and love, to live as the God and Goddess intended.” She came to Khassis and kneeled before him, taking his hands in hers. “Please go, Khassis. I could not bear to see you dead at my feet.” Tears slid down her face. “Would you have me go out and sit beneath your tree as you have sat beneath Joel’s?”

  Khassis’ own eyes pooled with tears and he laid his head on Greer’s. “No, I would not want that, Greer. I love you too much. But I love you too much to go! How can I leave you alone?”

  “I will not be alone,” she soothed. “My Goddess will be with me, as your God will be with you. And someday, in some other time, perhaps we may find one another again and live out our lives as two simple souls; no deliverers, no priests, no guardians, no magicians. Just two people, loving and loved. We can pray that it will be so.”