The Year-god's Daughter (The Child of the Erinyes)

by Rebecca Lochlann

  “Go on,” Iphiboë said. “It’s late. I’ll be safe here.”

  They made her comfortable with fleeces and bedding, and put within reach a skin of water and a flask of poppy juice. Aridela was so reluctant to go that Selene had to pull her away.

  Selene placed two lamps near the mouth of the cave, so their glow might show the way to whomever Athene chose to send, god or man. Once this was done, they dropped tiredly onto sheepskins in the large chamber just below the first ledge. The flicker of light coming from the lamps brought the stalagmites around them to dancing life.

  They sat cross-legged and held hands, watching the shadows, listening to the sough of wind outside in the night.

  “Themiste may have been right,” Selene said after a lengthy silence. “It’s possible the Goddess wants no man to touch you.” She put her arm around Aridela’s shoulder and kissed the corner of her mouth. “I hope she never puts such restrictions on us.”

  Aridela woke from a dreamy vision that had formed in the silence. Crimson sprites with slanted yellow eyes, leaping from the stalactites, surrounding her, tickling her with feathers, vanished in sparkles of light.

  “Will I be punished for this?” she asked.

  She felt Selene’s slight shrug. “You’ve done things before, knowing you would be punished. Why worry about it now?”

  Aridela, relieved by this commonsense attitude, followed another half-formed thought. “Tell me what it’s like, when a man and woman join. The truth. If the god comes, I want to know what to expect.”

  Selene stood. She crossed to a pale stalagmite thrusting from the floor. “See this?” she said, stroking the stone. “The manhood of Velchanos, buried in Athene’s womb. As it is for Athene, so is it for women and men.” She returned, stretching out, drawing Aridela down beside her. “He will touch you. Here, and here. When he senses your readiness, if he isn’t an oaf, he will do this, but not with his fingers. His tongue. He will kiss you, like this, here. And here. And, if he knows what he’s doing, here.”

  Aridela shivered. She wanted to experience what Selene demonstrated. All she needed was the god.

  She remembered how Lycus pressed against her in the arboretum. During that interlude, he thought of nothing but her. His everyday ambition, worries, hates and loves were forgotten. She liked being so important to someone that everything else was obliterated, at least for a moment. And oh, Lycus was beautiful. He mesmerized from every angle.

  What if an unknown man entered the cave and found her? What if he wasn’t to her liking?

  She should have told Lycus where she would be.

  “Love between men and women is different from the love women share,” Selene said. “The man enters a woman. He leaves within her his fertile seed. It’s the divine plan, and in this way new life is created. Civilizations rise to power and vanish to dust according the children women bear.”

  “Will it hurt?”

  “It may.” Selene opened heavy-lidded eyes. “You’ve never known a man. You may bleed. But pain gives way to pleasure, especially if you’re eager. The cara helps with that.”

  So much time seemed to pass. The potion wove deeper through Aridela’s mind and body. “How long has it been?” Her voice sounded hoarse.

  “I’m not sure.”

  A gust of wind blew through the cave entrance, causing the lamps to spark and swirl. Aridela tried to blink away another fancy created by undulating shadows and cara. A pair of unearthly creatures formed, silhouetted against the lamp flames. Instead of disappearing when she blinked, they dropped from the upper ridge on two legs, dressed in the sort of typical garb hunters wore, though one possessed the heavy-maned, open-jawed head of a lion and the other bore the massive horned head of a black bull. The bull gripped a flaming torch in one hand.

  Rising on her elbows, she shook her head in an attempt to dispel sudden dizziness and shortness of breath.

  The two creatures stalked toward her. The lion seized the bull’s human arm, but the bull shook it off with a warning mutter and took several more steps toward Aridela, blocking the lion’s approach. Thrusting its head forward, the lion grabbed the bull’s arm again and yanked him backward. The torch fell, clattering as it struck the rocks. For a long moment, the beasts stared each other down. The lion, grunting, shoved the bull in the chest, causing it to stagger. Their clenched hands, corded forearms, legs stiff and spread wide, hinted at scarcely contained fury. Aridela sensed a wild, cold viciousness; she was certain these spectral creatures meant to slaughter each other right in front of her.

  “There’s no need to fight.” Selene’s voice echoed off the walls as she rose and moved closer to the stalagmite. “Come to me, bull-god. I welcome thee in the name of she who commands all beasts.”

  The bull turned his massive black head toward Selene, then back to Aridela. Aridela felt his stare. Her heartbeat quickened; the hairs on her forearms lifted. She resisted an urge to lie back, to make herself an offering.

  He took one step. Instantly, the lion slashed, aiming for the bull’s shoulder and just missing as his rival twisted. The next moments blurred as the two collided and engaged. The bull hooked the lion’s leg and sent him thudding hard onto the cave floor. Barely glancing at his fallen adversary, the bull turned toward Aridela, then, mingled with the echoes from their fight, she heard a roughened male voice.

  “You forget your place, bastard.”

  Aridela shook her head, unable to tell if the voice was human, the snarl of a lion, or the growl of a bull. She wished she hadn’t taken any of the mushrooms. Everything was suspect.

  The lion jumped to its feet as the bull paused.

  “Let there be peace between you.” Selene lifted her arms. “Here you find two willing companions. Strong and virile bull, I am more than a match for thee.” She beckoned to him. “Together we will celebrate the rite.”

  Fists clenched, the bull returned its stare to the lion, which, by the way it leaned stiffly forward, appeared anxious to reengage the fight. Giving a disgusted growl, the bull crossed to Selene. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into the darkness beyond the lamplight. Aridela felt an instant of doubt that she’d ever seen him at all.

  Wicked canine teeth picked up the faint light as the lion approached her.

  The lamps at the cave entrance gave up their struggle and sputtered out in the sough of wind. The torch dropped by the bull-god flickered, more blue than yellow. Aridela felt the presence of Athene in the deepening darkness, warm, close and comforting. She fancied a soft voice in her head, whispering, it begins.

  “Aridela?” Selene’s disembodied voice floated from the blackness.

  “Is it a dream?” Aridela’s heartbeat skittered.

  Something smelling of worked leather brushed against Aridela’s shoulder. She drew into herself with a shiver yet fascination triumphed over fear. “Selene? Are you there? There’s something….”

  “I’m here.” Selene sounded different now. Muffled. Breathless.

  “You think me a dream?” A male voice spoke, close to Aridela’s ear though nothing now touched her. She started, but before she could scramble away, a pair of hands traveled up her arms to her shoulders. Her hair was gathered in a fist. “A woman such as you would never fear a dream.” He spoke in her language, but with a strong foreign accent. His breath tickled her skin, raising shivers. “Shouldn’t I be rewarded for discovering such treasure, so carefully hidden in the night? Though I may be only a dream, Potnia did guide me to you.”

  She felt him pull the lion mask off his head and lay it on the ground. Still, she couldn’t be sure he was a man. Gods could do anything. Perhaps he transformed from lion into man to allay her fears.

  A kiss touched the back of her neck, soft and lingering.

  It took no more than that. The embers lit by Selene ignited. Aridela discarded worry and consented to her incineration. She clutched this man who would be her first lover, doubting no longer that he was the god she longed for. With eager, impatient hands, she drew him down to
the sheepskin.

  Athene sent a divine lover to complete the holy rite. It could be nothing else. She wished the lamps hadn’t gone out, for she wanted to revere him.

  She sensed the intent in his mouth and hands, the pressure of his chest against hers. He needed her. His concentration centered upon her and there was no world outside this cave or even beyond the edge of the sheepskin. She felt the delicious power of her ability to enthrall, and this time it was not a bull leaper she captivated, but a god.

  She pushed at the belt around his waist as her tunic ripped in his hands. “Calesienda,” she whispered. In a far corner of awareness she heard Selene gasp, and remembered the Bull. Goddess Athene provided a lover for each of them. She could give herself to the rite without concern for her friend.

  His mouth didn’t give in tenderness, like Selene’s, or ardently awaken like Lycus’s. His kisses offered no allowance for inexperience, and gave no time to think, to perhaps change her mind.

  Throwing away her ruined tunic, he held her arms against the sheepskin and prodded her legs open with his own.

  She pressed closer, drawing him in. Initial brief pain subsided into pleasure so intense it made her solitary imaginings colorless and cold.

  Mother Athene descended in a shivering cascade, giving blessing and consent.

  The sound of his breathing guided her into his rhythm. In an instant of clarified terror, she sensed his heartbeat, his breath, his hands, stealing her, pulling her into something dark, deep and inescapable. He had no face; he was a heavy looming shadow, weighting her down, sucking her away. Ominous vertigo filtered through lust; she thought she heard Aridela, the princess of Kaphtor, shout a warning. She grabbed at his shoulders then the fear was gone, leaving only his body, his rhythm, his breath and mouth, and no more world, duty, or preordained purpose.

  Even as she saw the end approach, saw herself explode, melt or leap from the cave into the glorious paradise of Hesperia, he stopped. He lay still, breathing hard next to her ear. His member filled her, but refused to grant release.

  She felt shredded by greed and desire. This was the divine union? It was too much to bear.

  At last her breathing slowed and she knew she would survive. His skin warmed her. Sweat trickled between their bodies though the cave was damp and chilly.

  From the darkness came the sound of laborious breathing. “Selene?” she asked, annoyed at the tremble in her voice.

  “Hmm,” came a faint reply. “I am well. Yes, very well.”

  Aridela felt the god’s lips stretch into a smile against her cheek. He kissed her eyelids. For the first time he touched her breasts.

  “As am I,” she returned, shivering.

  She shifted her face closer to his, surprised to feel the graze of a beard. She explored the outline of his ears, the soft down of his lashes. His flesh felt smooth and firm. He must be young, but of course a god would never age. His scent combined sea-winds, the mingled essence of their bodies, and something she could only name male. She traced the bridge of his nose from forehead to mouth. It felt long, imposing, like another part of him, which again chased her up the precipice from which she sought to leap. She followed the movement of his hips with her own, pressing him closer with her thighs.

  “This first time can never be repeated,” he said. “Let us savor it.”

  Wrapping round him, she welcomed his impalement and forgot about the rite, Athene, Iphiboë, everything.

  She lost track of how many times they coupled then rested, kissing, only to do it all again, and more. He was, as Selene would put it, a man who knew what he was doing, who knew how to use his tongue as well as his hands and phallus. At last, when she released a wordless cry, he abandoned any pretense of teasing and play. For one endless instant, she knew communion with Athene, saw the future, past and present, as did the Lady. The world stopped then started again but slowly, deeply, and there was no cave, no dampness, only clouds of warm lavender radiance and wave upon wave of fulfillment.

  He tucked her face against his throat and drew a sheepskin over them. There she shuddered until her breathing and heartbeat slowed beneath contented heaviness. Gradually, the cara loosed its grip and Aridela drifted, holding her lover close. She listened to the soft voice inside her head, threading like her lover’s kisses.

  Nothing can ever part us.

  A hand tightened on Aridela’s shoulder. Limp, sore and weary, she pushed it away, but it returned with selfish insistence.

  “Aridela.” A whisper, hissed.

  “What?” The brightness of the flame in an oil lamp stung Aridela’s eyes, making her blink.

  Selene crouched beside her. “We must go. Now, while they sleep.”

  She groaned.

  “Come, Aridela. I need your help with Iphiboë.” Selene pulled at her.

  Aridela rose onto her elbows. Her lover had his back to her. His long hair pooled over the crumpled sheepskins. She touched it, surprised at how soft it felt.

  Selene made a sound of disgust in her throat. “Do you still dream it was the god? You can see it was not.”

  “Look at his hair. He’s a foreigner.”

  “I can see that. What if he goes bragging that he lay with the princess of Kaphtor? She who is promised to the oracle and ordered to remain untouched?”

  The man shifted. Sighed.

  Both women stilled.

  Selene set the lamp on the cave floor and picked up Aridela’s tunic, dropping it again with a grimace. “Barbarian love,” she whispered. “His is the corrupted horse-seed of Poseidon. They enslave women. They keep their goddesses weak. Their worship of the Venerable Mother is a sham. This I know. His people and mine have a long history.”

  Shiver after shiver coursed through Aridela. How strong, almost terrible, the passion she’d experienced. Did cara cause it, or some alchemy this male owned? She’d lost something. He’d drawn it out in his kisses as he kept her dangling in space and made it clear that he alone could give her what she wanted. He’d taken something from her, and he would keep it. She would never again belong entirely to herself. The fear she glimpsed during their coupling had become truth.

  Perhaps this was the punishment for defying Themiste. Perhaps it was the reason for the oracle’s command to remain untouched.

  Then the memories revived, of his embraces, his kisses, of joining her in the leap, and she didn’t want herself back. Surely no other mortal had ever experienced such rapture.

  Without the sheepskin and warmth of her lover’s body, her teeth began to chatter. Thankfully, she’d discarded her hooded robe before the men came. Selene fetched it and Aridela pulled it over her head.

  A hand clasped her thigh while her head and arms were still buried in wool. She turned, pulling the material down, and drew in a startled breath. Here was yet more mystery. A face she knew laughed up at her and she careened into the intimacy of the mountain dream.

  “You,” she cried. “You.”

  This mouth, in vision, had made a vow. Nothing can ever part us.

  Selene slid between them, shoving the man away.

  “No, no,” Aridela said. “Let me touch him. Let me see him. He means me no harm.”

  She gently pushed Selene to one side.

  He rose on one elbow, his expression solemn yet pleased and triumphant, after the brief sneer he sent Selene.

  “How can this be?” Aridela touched his hair. It sprang from his temples, as virile as the manes on the lions her mother kept in the arboretum. A darker beard covered his cheeks and chin, adding to the lionish impression.

  She looked on the cave floor as far as the light would allow, but saw no mask. Lady Athene must have created the fancy of him as a lion to serve her purpose, to hide, perhaps, his exotic strangeness so Aridela wouldn’t refuse him.

  A foreigner.

  A foreigner ushered her into Kaphtor’s holy rites. A barbarian left his seed inside her. The ways of the Goddess were truly enigmatic.

  “No man will have you but me,” he said. Again
she heard the accent. His pronunciation was atrocious.

  He pulled her face down. Kissed her lips, eyelids and nose. Lingered against her ear. “Only me.”

  “How did you find us?” Aridela ran her hands over his shoulders, feeling hardened muscles and a warrior’s scars. “Did the Goddess lead you?”

  He was a replica, but for the beard, of the god who seduced her on Mount Juktas. The lamplight revealed the green of his eyes. Even that detail was the same.

  He pushed her down, pinning her. “My princess.” He said it like a king, his nostrils flaring. So he knew who she was. There was no use then, in creeping away as though ashamed of what she’d done, and no matter what happened, even if Themiste found out, she was glad.

  The ends of his hair tickled her throat.

  “I don’t understand,” she said. She wanted him again, longed for him as though she hadn’t just spent many hours being pleasured by him. “Yet somehow I cannot regret your taking what is so sacred on Kaphtor.”

  Her own father, Damasen, was a foreigner. Helice had told her many times how much they loved each other.

  “Regret?” He snorted. “It’s moera, our share of fortune and fate, written before the sky was formed. I am meant to love the royal princess of Crete. I alone.”

  Drawn to his bold confidence, she released a delighted laugh, though others would be shocked at his profanity. Then she wondered, with an unhappy wrench, if he thought she was Iphiboë.

  “My lady.” Selene lit another lamp and gave her a cold stare as the shadows retreated.

  One of the shadows moved. It was the other man, the bull-god. Still partially disguised in a webwork of darkness, he sat some distance away, watching her. Now that his mask was gone, she saw his dark hair, and a closer beard than her lover’s. The light was too faint to determine more, but there was something about his face. It must be another mask.

  “The rites are complete,” Selene said. “It’s time to go.”

  The blond foreigner scowled. Aridela touched the furrow between his brows with one finger. His arrogance seemed innate, highborn. Who are you? She wanted to know, yet left it unasked.