Clockwork Goddess (The Lesbia Chronicles)

by Loki Renard

"What would Ariadne say if she saw the state of her armlette?" Ayla's questioning was clearly intended to provoke some action on Kira's part, but it failed to have any such effect.

  "Probably the same thing she's been doing since this all began," Vix muttered whilst Kira shrugged. "Nothing."

  "Blasphemy is a disciplinary offense," Kira said sharply. "Be careful what you say."

  "Blasphemy is an offense, but being drunk and disorderly is acceptable?" Vix's expression was unashamedly derisive. It was a poor decision to direct that sentiment at Kira, who was not the sort of person who enjoyed being questioned, especially not by a lowly hengineer who did not have the slightest bit of fighting expertise.

  "Do not worry about what the others are doing," Kira said as her soldiers writhed about in a tangled heap behind her. "Worry about what you are doing. Worry about the trouble your mouth is getting you in."

  "I am worried," Vix said. "I'm worried that my fate seems linked to a group of drunken fanatics with the military prowess of a caterpillar's little toe who seem to think they will win against the might of an empire because an imaginary goddess is on their side."

  Her statement was not as loud as the cursing in the background, but it cut through all the other noise and babble, leaving Kira staring down at Vix with the the eyes of a predator.

  "She hasn't said three words since I recruited her," the warrior said to Ayla. "I leave her with you for a few days and look what she does. I used to think you attracted smart mouthed brats - but it is obvious that you create them."

  Sensing unpleasantness in Kira's gaze, Vix took a step back, putting Ayla between herself and the warrior.

  "Leave the girl alone," Ayla said. "You have real problems to solve, don't waste time beating the messenger."

  "I don't need you to tell me how to run my armlette." Kira said, ignoring the brawl as it raged behind her. It was no small thing to ignore, given that it was growing by the moment, destroying everything in its path. Plates and pots and the tables themselves were being wielded and stamped on. Some cookware was being worn as impromptu armor, spatulas and forks taking the place of swords and shields.

  "Perhaps you do," Ayla said, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "But it will not be me this night." She turned to the younger woman behind her. "Where do you sleep, Vix?"

  "Ordinarily Moon and I share... but when Trebuchet is in I just sleep wherever," Vix shrugged.

  Ayla's gaze snapped back to Kira. "She has no assigned bed?"

  "She's not truly part of the..."

  "Kira, your hospitality and stewardship both need work." Ayla gestured to Vix. "Come with me."

  Vix obeyed, glad to avoid Kira's wrath by sticking close to Ayla all the way back to the small but well appointed tent on the edge of the encampment. The noise of the brawl abated slightly with distance.

  "Have things always been this way in the armlette?" Ayla asked the question as she swept the front fold of the tent aside and gestured for Vix to enter.

  "Kira only values people who fight, and maybe people who heal. Anyone else is not important, unless they cook." Vix shrugged. "It has been this way for months. Trebuchet and Moon let me stay most of the time."

  "Most of the time?"

  "Sometimes I stay out, give them time alone. They don't get much of it."

  "Tonight you will take the bed," Ayla said. "It is time you had some comfort. Since we met I have seen you do nothing but fit yourself into crevices of convenience for everyone else."

  "I can't take your bed," Vix said. "Besides, I'm used to sleeping rough. Your bones are no doubt wearier than mine."

  "And what makes you think that?"

  "Well," Vix said, clearly racking her brains for a respectful way to comment on Ayla's advanced years. "You do not look it, of course, but you have...well..."

  "You think I am too old to forgo a bed?" Ayla laughed. "Then we will share it. There is room for us both."

  "I.." Vix did not seem to know what to say. "That's very kind, but..."

  "Take off your over clothes and get in." Ayla quirked a brow when Vix hesitated. "It is late and I do not have the patience for another argument. Please, get ready for bed."

  Vix watched as Ayla began to disrobe herself, removing her outer garment to stand in a pale silk slip which draped itself elegantly over the statuesque curves of her body. Never before had Vix been in such close contact with so beautiful a creature. During the journey from Ayla's home to the camp there had been a separation largely due to Liz being a pain in the rear at every turn. She had sucked every little bit of attention and air out of every moment. Vix was glad she seemed to have gone for the day, hopefully she would be gone a whole lot longer.

  "Is there a reason you are still not ready?" Ayla had folded a cloth and was dabbing it into the water dish on the stand beside the bed, then wiping it about her face and neck.

  "I..." Vix did not have words to express how small and out of place she felt, how unworthy of the attention. Ayla was kind to everyone, but she did not welcome everyone into her bed. Did it mean something? Or was she just being nice? Had Vix crossed the line from outcast to pitiful object of charity?

  "Getting into bed does not require this much thought," Ayla chided.

  Vix knew she was being silly, and overly shy. She shed her vest, but hesitated at the leggings. If she took them off, there would be nothing but the length of her undershirt to cover her... everything.

  "No leggings in bed," Ayla insisted. "You need not depend on modesty, I promise my aged fingers will not stray."

  "I didn't..." Vix lost her voice in the attempt to explain. She could never have told Ayla that feeling the touch of her fingers was beyond anything she could have hoped for. Instead she blushed and pushed her leggings down over her hips, then darted into bed before Ayla could see anything more than the flash of her bare behind.

  "If you do not wish to experience unpleasantness, I would refrain from speaking your mind to Kira quite so frankly," Ayla said as she finished her ablutions.

  "I doubt I will have cause to speak to her again." Vix pulled the covers up to her chin. "I do not usually cross paths with her, being a lowly peon of little importance."

  "That's a role you've learned to play quite well, isn't it?" Ayla lifted the corner of the blanket and slid in beside Vix. "The quiet observer at the fringes of the fray, always working, never noticed."

  Vix felt her face grow warm again, though she didn't know if it was Ayla's words or the witch's proximity which made her react. The witch smelled like wildflowers, the upper part of her bosom was bare under the low cut of the slip and the rising swell of her breasts drew Vix's gaze just as surely as they took away her ability to form words.

  "I make you uncomfortable." Ayla's words broke the spell.

  "No," Vix said, lifting her eyes to Ayla's face. "You don't. You have been as kind to me as Moon and Trebuchet, though you barely know me - and though I hardly deserve it."

  "You deserve kindness," Ayla said firmly. "Everybody does."

  "So you invite everybody into your bed?" Vix gave Ayla a half-playful, half-curious look.

  "No," Ayla smiled. "That is a privilege reserved for a rare few." She reached out and tapped Vix lightly on the tip of her nose. "Though I know you cannot imagine being rare."

  Vix blushed and curled up under the blankets with a sense of contentment so deep she could no longer make room in her heart for fear or concern. Ayla turned the lantern out and they were both cloaked by darkness. Outside, the furore had died down to a dull roar. With Ayla's warmth just a few inches away, Vix drifted off into a most comfortable sleep.

  *****

  She woke many hours later nestled under Ayla's bosom, her nose against the witch's ribs. Ayla's left arm was resting along the length of her back, holding her in light embrace. Sun was warming the tent, filtering through fiber to create a private pocket of warmth.

  "Did you sleep well?"

  The question answered the question as to whether Ayla was awake or not. Regretfully, Vix mo
ved away enough to lift her head to look at Ayla.

  "I did," she said. "I've not slept that well in a very long time."

  "A result of magic, perhaps?" Ayla was teasing. She looked more beautiful than ever, her brows raised not in censure but in playful question.

  "I do not think so," Vix said, shuffling up the bed as Ayla moved her arm away. "I think it was the lateness of the hour and the pleasantness of the company."

  "Everything has an explanation with you, doesn't it?"

  "Of course." Vix watched as Ayla pushed back the covers and rose gracefully, her slip clad form intoxicating in the morning light. Ayla donned her green and gold robes with the elegance innate to her every movement, leaving Vix wondering how she managed it. Was there some kind of deportment school for half-elf forest witches? No. Ayla's grace was not a trained air, it was her natural state, as native to her as fluttering to a butterfly or singing to a sparrow.

  "Come along." The witch lifted her hand and crooked a finger at Vix. "Time to begin the new day."

  Vix slid halfway out of bed before realizing that she was not precisely dressed. Her tunic had ridden up to her hips, revealing everything from the waist down. She would normally have been mortified to be seen in such a state, but Ayla simply smiled quietly and handed her leggings over and Vix dressed herself without any hurry or shame.

  Strange how comfort had sprung up between them, an understanding of minds and hearts. Little was said, but glances and smiles confirmed that a new closeness had been formed.

  "I need to go and see Kira," Ayla said. "You should eat."

  Vix cocked her head to the side and grinned knowingly. "You mean I should avoid Kira."

  "If you wish to avoid a warrior's wrath, yes. I doubt she has forgotten your insolence."

  "I was not insolent..."

  "You were outspoken, insolent and entirely out of line," Ayla asserted. "But it was what Kira needed to hear. I would not make a habit out of it however, there tend to be consequences for those who speak the truth and most of them are painful."

  "I thought the truth set one free."

  "If one wishes to become wildly unpopular, one need only speak the truth," Ayla said. "A wise woman keeps her own counsel."

  Vix nodded as they left the tent together, leaving Ayla with a parting thought. "Isn't it interesting how wise people and cowards have so much in common."

  Chapter Eleven

  "Urgggh," Aeron groaned as she came to unpleasant consciousness. "What giant crushed my skull?"

  "You drank too much." Kira's voice conveyed the bad news. "Or, in your case, you drank."

  When her vision cleared and her mind managed to interpret the bright world beyond her lids, Aeron realized that she was in Kira's quarters, laid out on a sheepskin rug near the rear of the tent. It was far from the least comfortable bed she had ever slept on, in fact the soft wool was a luxury far beyond her usual hemp bedding. She had been stripped down to a linen tunic and short leggings, neither of which provided much in the way of modesty or coverage.

  Kira was in her hunting leathers, tanned hide stretched over her powerful frame, clasping her buttocks in animal embrace. Her bottom had always been Aeron's favorite part. Two exceptionally shapely firm globes, forged in the heat of battle. Whenever Kira moved they did a matching dance, a hypnotic gyration of gluteal muscles which Aeron could have watched all day and all night. The warrior had not yet braided her hair that day, it was hanging loose and slightly curling about her shoulders, framing her face in dark waves.

  "Get up," she said curtly. "Lay face down over my bed."

  The grim note in her tone and the even grimmer look about her eyes and lips told Aeron that she was about to catch a beating. On top of a hangover, no less.

  Moving obediently, though reluctantly, Aeron assumed the position. She settled onto the bed quite comfortably even though she knew that at any moment, Kira was going to start thrashing her with the thick leather lash she favored.

  "You know you're banned from drink," Kira said, leaning over to purr the words into Aeron's ear. Her strong hand traced up the length of Aeron's neck and bunched in the back of her hair.

  Held in position, Aeron relaxed. She had no intention of fighting the punishment. She had no intention of doing anything other than just lying as still as possible for as long as possible.

  "Do you have anything to say?"

  "No, ma'am," Aeron mumbled. Her eyelids were starting to feel heavy again, sleep was drawing her back in.

  The lash fell as she had known it would, cutting a harsh swathe of heat across the crown of her cheeks. Aeron flinched slightly, almost imperceptibly. The pain was negligible. The lash landed five more times to the same muted response. A less seasoned warrior might have reacted to the heat and the sting, but Aeron had borne such great pain throughout her life that Kira's lashing was as nothing to her.

  Six strokes were delivered. She dozed through all of them, until Kira laid the lash down and released the grip on the back of her neck.

  "Too staunch for discipline," Kira murmured. "How does one adequately punish a soldier insensate to pain?"

  "You give up too soon." A new voice entered the conversation. Both Kira and Aeron looked up to see that Ayla had entered the tent and was standing with a look of amusement on her elfy features.

  "Six of the best is the same as twelve or four and twenty, for that matter," Kira said. "If I have to beat her to the point of crippling her, then it is not discipline."

  "It is not what is done, dear Kira," Ayla said, moving further into the tent and letting the flap close behind her. "It is how it is done. You know I have some experience with intractable warrior types. Perhaps I can be of assistance?"

  "Be my guest." Kira held out the lash, but Ayla brushed it aside. She crouched down before Aeron's prone frame and locked eyes with the soldier.

  "Why did you drink, Aeron?"

  "I was thirsty?" Aeron managed a horizontal shrug.

  "That's not the reason, is it? You're sick now. Your head is pounding, your stomach churning and your mouth is dry. You willingly drank poison, knowing what it would do to you."

  Aeron was feeling far too fuzzy for complicated conversations, and she certainly wasn't going to embark on some deep investigation of her feelings with the witch. She shrugged again, glancing over at the firm rounds of Kira's bottom as she did. Oh it was a thing of beauty. If only she could see it without the leather... if only she could touch... kiss... caress...

  "Aeron!" Kira snapped her name sharply. "Pay attention when Ayla is talking."

  "I don't think she can pay attention," Ayla said, following Aeron's gaze with a knowing smile. "And I don't think there's anything you can do to punish her either."

  "Hardly useful, but thank you for trying," Kira sighed.

  "I said there wasn't anything you could do," Ayla said. "Leave us, please. One hour should be sufficient."

  Kira braided her hair and left the tent with a laconic 'good luck' to Aeron, who remained prone on the bed, bracing herself for witchly vengeance. Fortunately for her, Ayla seemed disinclined to venge immediately. Instead, she had a question.

  "How long have you been in love with Kira?"

  "I love no-one," Aeron replied, her gaze steady, her jaw clenched. "I love battle."

  "I see," Ayla said. "Because you are a soldier and nothing more? Or because you do not think that anyone will love you if you were to love them?"

  Aeron gave Ayla a blank look. There were a lot of words coming out of the witch's mouth and she didn't care about any of them. Words were wasted breath, tricksy things that could mean one thing or another thing or nothing at all.

  "Can I get up?"

  "Do as you please," Ayla said, standing tall.

  Aeron did admire the witch's stature. She was no fighter, but there was a power in her body that the soldier could not help but respond to.

  Getting to her feet, she just barely withstood the pounding of her head. She was truly in a bad way, the mead had turned her body a
gainst itself, left her aching as though she had lost a fight. Aeron pushed through the discomfort to remain staunch. "What will you do to me? Whatever it is, I can take it."

  "Oh I'm sure," Ayla said mildly. "It's pointless punishing a soldier unless she understands the reason she's being punished."

  "I understand why," Aeron replied. "It's because I drank."

  "No," Ayla replied. "It's because you deliberately harmed yourself. What would have happened if enemy forces had attacked last night?"

  "Last night would not have stood a chance," Aeron replied deadpan.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Tomorrow can never be beaten, today is an unknown quantity, but last night is already dead and gone."