Clockwork Goddess (The Lesbia Chronicles)

by Loki Renard

  "You are Ayla," Vix said. "I have heard tales of you all my life."

  "I am a simple forest witch with a talent for healing, nothing more."

  Vix bowed her head, feigning agreement. If a glittering star wished to call itself a candle flame, so be it. She would not argue, for one did not argue with the heavens. Ayla could declare herself a pork pie and Vix would agree.

  There was a soft sigh. "Your fear could prove dangerous," Ayla said, slipping her fingers beneath Vix's chin so that Vix was forced to meet her gaze.

  "I'm not afraid of you," Moon said, swinging from a nearby branch. "I am not afraid of anything."

  "That's because herbs have dulled the part of your head that allows you to feel fear," Vix said. "At this point, you are more plant than woman."

  "Thank you," Moon beamed, "so sweet of you to say."

  Vix returned her smile. Moon was a most agreeable sort of person, the perfect companion in times of danger and concern.

  "I have taken all the herbs in Lesbia at one time or another," Moon said, changing the subject in a way that relieved Vix of the burden of Ayla's attention. "I have taken them all, and each has left its little leafy mark upon me. I am a part of all that I have eaten."

  Glancing up, Vix saw amusement written plainly on the forest witch's face. Ayla found Moon charming, naturally. Moon was very charming. Even if one were to ignore her nudity, which Vix often did, Moon was so cheerful and open to everything the world held that it was impossible not to enjoy her company.

  "I think there might be a few you have yet to taste," Ayla said.

  "Impossible!"

  Ayla's expression of mixed amusement and fondness set off a reactionary pang of jealousy in Vix. She wished the witch would look at her that way, but knew such a thing was out of the question. She was a woman of very little note, a tinker who had stumbled into trouble. She did not have Moon's beauty and charm, or Kira's strength and fortitude, or Ayla's wisdom and charisma. All she had were her little works. And so she renewed her labors whilst Moon began nattering on about all manner of plants and potables.

  "Psst!"

  Vix looked toward the sound, which came from the corner of the house. A young woman with dirty blonde hair and a wicked expression of glee plastered across her face was standing there. She winked at Vix and waved. Vix did not wave back. Neither Ayla nor Moon seemed to notice the interloper as she walked up and sat down beside Vix.

  "She has a soft spot for herbalists," the young woman said, indicating Ayla with a jab of her finger. "A full member of the sisterhood of traveling plants."

  Vix did not know what to say, so she did not say anything. She sat and she whittled and she watched the world unfold as her new found companion chortled in amusement.

  "Someone should tell that Moon to put some clothes on," she said. "Or she's going to end up with nettles on her nipples and weeds in her wazoo."

  Vix snorted in amusement.

  "Something funny?" Ayla turned, giving her a questioning look.

  "Just..." Vix indicated the space next to her with her elbow.

  "Just..." Ayla shrugged, her ample bosom moving enchantingly with the motion.

  "Her."

  "Her who? Moon?"

  The interloper grinned at Vix. "She can't see me. Neither can your naked friend."

  Vix lowered her eyes to her work and tried to figure out what to do next. She was having a conversation with what seemed to be a figment of her imagination. One didn't go about announcing such things, especially to people one wanted desperately to impress.

  "Moon," Vix mumbled. "Moon is funny."

  "Ah, keeping my secret. I like you," the invisible-to-everyone-besides-Vix stranger said, nudging her in the ribs with what felt like a very real finger.

  "Don't mind Vix," Moon said, drawing attention back to her semi-nude self. "She's just quiet."

  "It's the quiet ones you have to watch," Ayla murmured.

  Vix kept her head down, but she could feel the witch's eyes on her. The hairs at the back of her neck were prickling with awareness, telling her she was being observed closely and deeply, past the surface of her skin and right down into her thoughts.

  "Relax," her new companion said. "She can't actually read minds. She just pretends to."

  Slightly scared but completely curious, Vix pretended to ignore the woman sitting next to her. That didn't seem to bother the interloper. She stretched out her stocking clad legs, crossed them at the ankles and rested her arms behind her head, lifting her dirt smudged face to the sun. Through frequent glances, Vix deduced that she must be a traveler of some kind. Her clothes were worn and patched, liberally covered in the sort of grime one could only accumulate after weeks on the road.

  All of a sudden, Vix became aware that Ayla and Moon were no longer talking. She looked up to find that Ayla was looking at her with a keen gaze which was very unsettling. She knew something was going on, but she didn't seem to know what. Certainly her gaze did not slip to Vix's right, to the spot where the intruder sat and sunbathed.

  "Problem?" Vix directed the question at the witch.

  "You stopped whittling. Something get your attention?"

  "It's a nice day," Vix said. "I was enjoying the sun."

  "Oh, nice save," the intruder interjected. "Sun is a good one."

  Ayla glanced around, her eyes darting from the cottage to the trees, to the ground. "Something is amiss."

  "Yes," Vix said glibly. "Everything."

  "So negative!" Moon launched into a lecture. "Don't you know that negativity attracts negativity?"

  "According to my experiments, negativity repels negativity," Vix argued. "Metals..."

  "I'm not talking about metals, I'm talking about mortals," Moon said, interrupting once more.

  "Suck down some more smoke and shut your mouth," the intruder growled under her breath. "Happy clappy yippy skippy silliness."

  The corner of Vix's mouth curled up in a little smile. She couldn't help it. Whoever this caustic, carefree stranger was, she rather liked her.

  "Vix." Ayla's calm tones cut through her amusement. The witch beckoned her with a crooked finger. "Come with me."

  There was a little cough next to Vix's elbow as the stranger slid down in the seat, uttering not so much words as sounds. "Uh oh."

  "Are you going to tell me what is happening?"

  "Nothing is happening," Vix said. "We are waiting for you to be ready to travel."

  Ayla's lips thinned. "Do not play verbal games with me. You know perfectly well what I am asking."

  Vix's defenses were well aroused. There was a secret and she was its keeper.

  "I know there is something amiss," Ayla said.

  "She doesn't know what's going on!" The traveler exclaimed, appearing all of a sudden from under the table. She proceeded to dance all about Ayla, kicking her legs out at the knee in a stiff-legged jig. "She doesn't know nothing at all!"

  Ayla's eyes were locked on Vix's when she reached out and seemingly plucked the uninvited visitor out of mid-air, grasping her by the lobe of her ear.

  "Ow!" The visitor shrieked, more out of indignation than pain. "You're not supposed to be able to see me! I drank ten gallons of invisibility potion! Ten gallons! I was drinking potion from sun up to sun down."

  "I could see your reflection in Vix's eyes. In future, if you want to stay invisible, don't talk to anyone immune to the potions."

  "I'm immune to the potion?" Vix asked the question.

  "You're immune to potions other people have taken."

  "Aren't we all?" Vix was skeptical, but Ayla did not give any further explanation.

  "Are you going to let me go?" The visitor was standing awkwardly, her ear still trapped in Ayla's pinch fingered grip.

  "That depends on your answer to two questions. Who are you and what are you doing here?"

  "I'm Liz," she said. "And I'm here to keep an eye on things. For Ariadne."

  "So you are a spy."

  "That's what I said." Liz folded her han
ds over her chest, her head still cocked at that uncomfortable angle.

  "A spy in my home," Ayla purred, her green eyes flashing. "An interloper with ill-intentions."

  "I'm just doing the goddesses' bidding," Liz shrugged. "As we all must do."

  "Well, if you must do what you must do, then I must also do what I must do." Saying so, Ayla struck Liz firmly upon her buttocks with a swatting spank hard enough to echo around the cottage and make one of the smaller ornaments upon a little shelf tinkle against its neighbor.

  "Oh by the goddess that smarts!" Liz's exclamation was surprisingly lucid given the force with which she had been swatted.

  Ayla repeated the treatment, her palm meeting the round of Liz's cheek with a loud slap which elicited a squeal of irritation.

  "Stop hitting me this instant!"

  "If you didn't want to be hit, you shouldn't have broken in where you didn't belong," Ayla said implacably, repeating the treatment until Liz squealed for mercy.

  Chapter Three

  "By the goddess, you are in trouble now!"

  Tall, handsome and broadly muscular, Kira scowled darkly at two soldiers standing in front of her tent.

  One blonde was sporting a fresh cut which descended from her hairline and stopped just shy of her eyelid. She had sustained another gash on her cheek, as well as one on the side of her neck. None of the wounds were particularly deep, but they looked unpleasant.

  The other, a smaller, darker woman with a very sheepish expression had injuries to her bare upper arm and shoulder. Several long cuts from a short blade had given her an impromptu ribbon effect.

  "Perhaps I didn't mention this before," Kira said, her husky voice deep and hard as nails. "But we're all on the same side."

  The soldiers said little, avoiding her gaze.

  "This isn't the first time you've fought," she continued, gritting the words out between her teeth in a way that made her jaw very square. Her eyes were narrowed with a kind of predatory displeasure which was not lost on her soldiers. "Do either of you have an explanation?"

  "We just don't like each other," the blonde said, her eye winking as a result of the discomfort of her injury. A slow trickle of tears coursed down her face for the same reason.

  "Oh," Kira said grimly. "Oh you don't like each other? Well then I suppose you are allowed to tear one another limb from limb."

  "Aeron's mean," the smaller soldier said, glancing at Kira for one brief moment. "She's a bully."

  "And Blaine's unstable," the blonde snapped back. "She's a liability."

  "You're both liabilities," Kira replied. "Make no mistake about that." She glared long and hard at the insubordinate little brats who had gone at one another with all the ferocity of pit dogs. "And you're both going to be punished."

  There was little response from the soldiers. They had known punishment was in their future. It had not dulled their ferocity in the slightest. They had gone for one another in front of the entire camp, destroyed several weapons racks in their vigorous scuffle which was only broken up after the direct intervention of no fewer than six of their comrades. Even now they were stiff, on the verge of violence.

  Kira sighed inwardly. Individually they were both able soldiers. Aeron was brave and bold, athletic beyond compare. She could run an enemy scout down for hours without resting - and she had. Blaine was not so bold, but she had a penchant for hiding in the shadows and seeing without being seen. She could fight most fiercely if cornered, but it was not her usual wont - not unless Aeron was involved.

  Tensions between the two had been running high for some weeks. There had been sniping, griping and even a few scuffles. Nothing so bad as this all out attack which saw them both drawing blood.

  It could not be tolerated. It would not be tolerated.

  "Aeron," she snapped. "Report to the medical officer. Blaine, inside my tent. Now."

  Blaine shuffled toward the opening of the awning whilst Aeron spun on her heel and strode toward the medical tent. Her shoulders were thrown back, her head held high. Though she was wounded, she was not at all cowed. Kira watched her go, an expression of concern on her strong features. Aeron would not soon be convinced of the wrongness of her ways. Blaine might be easier to handle.

  Kira followed the soldier into her tent. She discovered Blaine in the corner. She had put herself there, well aware of disciplinary protocol.

  "Come here," Kira said curtly.

  Blaine turned and came out, her eyes somewhat glazed. Panic and fear still ran through her veins, Kira could sense it even at a distance.

  "Sit down," she said, pointing to a cushion. "Breathe."

  Blaine obeyed the order, her chin length hair falling into her eyes as she lowered her head. She was shut down, anticipating pain, not understanding.

  "Relax," Kira said, her tone softening a little. "I am not going to hurt you."

  Brown eyes looked up through dark strands of hair. "You're not?"

  "No." Kira sat in the only chair in the tent. It was the second most comfortable place to sit other than the broad bed which was very comfortable, covered as it was in furs and pelts. "You shouldn't fight with Aeron," she said. "She naturally outranks you. And she's a more capable fighter."

  "I almost had her eye out," Blaine replied, attempting boldness. It did not suit her well. Her voice trembled almost as much as her hands.

  "And she almost deprived you of your arm," Kira replied.

  "I don't care." Blaine set her round jaw almost as firmly as Kira had. "I won't let her beat me. I'll die before I lose."

  "Ordinarily I would applaud that attitude," Kira said dryly. "But it's misdirected in this case. You and Aeron are family. Sword sisters. You know what that means."

  "It means I'm surrounded by people with swords," Blaine said, biting her lower lip.

  She was so nervous, so perpetually afraid. Kira wished there were some way to instill bravery, some potion she could give, some spell a witch could say. But there was not. True courage, the kind Aeron had in spades, came from within. Blaine would likely never know what it was like to strike forth boldly without concern. She would always be wracked by worries.

  "Come here," Kira said, reaching for her salve. "Let me tend your wounds."

  Blaine edged forward and extended her arm, keeping her head low and her eyes averted. Even when treated with kindness, she could not release her fear. It was a pity, Kira thought to herself as she began to gently apply healing balm to the light wounds.

  Chapter Four

  "You have made a grave error," Liz declared, both hands gripping the spanked rounds of her bottom. "You have made the gravest of errors!"

  Ayla did not seem concerned by this announcement. She was paying little attention to the irate spy. Instead she was packing a bag with powders and potions and other such ingredients, including a hairy-legged spider which rolled itself up into a ball and turned into a purple flower when she blew upon it.

  "Ariadne will see that this wrong is righted. She is the great righter!" Liz kept up her bluster, perhaps more for Vix's sake than her own. Vix had seen all that had passed, she had seen Ayla deliver a rather painful and no doubt embarrassing punishment to Liz, who in turn seemed more bothered by the ignominy of the entire affair than anything else.

  "Witch! You will heed me!" Liz stamped her foot. As the sole of her dirty boot hit the cottage floor, a loud booming could be heard which made the walls shudder.

  Ayla turned, rare surprise written on her beautiful features. Her blonde brows were arched high, her lips parted as if to speak a word which did not come.

  "Ah, you see now," Liz crowed. "You see now how you have awoken the wrath of giants!" She stamped her foot again and several ornaments tumbled off the shelves. It was very strange, for she was not a large woman, but she was undoubtedly shaking the earth with the fury of her foot.

  "You are very short for a giant," Ayla said, her lips twisting and her cheek dimpling.

  "A giant need not be tall," Liz declared, lifting her chin high with pri
de. "A giant is giant on the inside. I am dense! Denser than any other!"

  Vix snorted, then pretended that she had sneezed, for whatever Liz was it didn't seem like a good idea to cross it.

  "If the giant doesn't stop stamping, the giant is going to find her heels kicking as her hide is tanned," Ayla replied, returning to her packing.