Chapter 3
“Have I taught you nothing?” The voice behind me was frail but it still held the sternness it had held six years earlier when I had come into Ariana's care. “You would surely poison a man if you were to give him that much.” She shook her head at me, removing the mortar and pestle from my hands. I smiled endearingly at her. I had quickly come to love her and six years had passed since I first entered her charge. Her hair that had once been the color of freshly turned earth now had the appearance of aged bark, but it was still beautiful. Her eyes still shown with a stubborn light and her strictness concerning my lessons had only grown more forceful as I grew older. Calloused fingers permanently red from hard work and harsh lye were removing half of the herb I had been crushing in the stone bowl. “Kill a man.” She muttered again, shaking her head. “Never listens.” “Oh but I listen very well, Ari.” I said affectionately and kissed her weathered cheek. “I am trying to kill a man. The juices would be most potent.” Ariana shook her head. “You dream too much, child. You should not be worrying of revenge right now. You have duties to be tending to. Have you forgotten the importance of this night?” Of course I hadn't, but I was never able to explain the rages that drove me at the most inopportune times. Xenos's vision had been burned into my mind and had not faded at all in the last six years. Puberty and ancient lessons had done nothing to slack the fire that burned within my heart, the commitment that consumed me. “I am sorry, Ari.” I told her and placed another kiss to her cheek. “I will finish making the stew now.” “Young women. Such flighty creatures.” I heard her mumble but I saw the smile that threatened to quirk at the edge of her lips. I laughed softly and made my way inside to get the pole used for stirring the huge pot over the outside fire. I had blossomed in the years I had been under Ariana's tutelage, both mentally and physically. The stars whispered to me nightly and the visions that came, while unpredictable, were vibrant and filled with the same ominous messages, such as the first I had experienced. I had grown tall and slender, small of breast and firm of thigh. My hair had been tended lovingly and shown like spun gold. My eyes were the clearest sky in a face that had become both defined and soft featured. I knew I was beautiful. I had been taught well of the ways of men by Ariana, and what they found appealing. She had also taught me how to use these qualities subtly but effectively. A woman's wiles, I had been taught, could freeze entire armies, could have gods upon their knees. I had been a careful and studious pupil and took extra care to remember the things I had been taught. Tonight was something I'd been taught of just as I had all my other lessons. The moon would be at its peak and passing through those stars which had reigned the month of my birth. Sixteen or seventeen revolutions of the sun had passed, and a few moons earlier Ariana had informed me that I would be becoming a woman. What “becoming” a woman entailed I had not been held privy to the details of, but I held inkling that – as with everything else – it would involve somehow my ability to see and speak with the stars - nay - commune with them. We never saw any others, though I had been taught well of the way the city's society was run in these days that the tyrant Xenos had taken over. I would be ready when I left Ariana's hut to attempt what it was I had been carefully planning. I was going to join the temple as a simple servant. I would be one of those pretty girls that tended the altars of a new god. Xenos's god – war. I would hold my tongue and I would wear their suggestive robes. I would do everything perfectly and when the moment was right…yes, when the moment presented itself I would carry out my plan. But, tonight I was to finish the dinner stew and paint the designs upon my arms, legs, and face that Ariana instructed me to. They would be symbols of the stars' design: the lion, the eagle, the bear. I would wear them upon my skin, and I would then discover what else it was I was meant to do. I walked outside and placed the long wooden pole into the steaming cauldron. The stew had a pungent but inviting odor, heavily comprised of vegetables grown in our own small garden along with the meat of a small bird that had fallen victim to one of Ariana's clever traps in the foliage near where the beach encroached upon the grass. Ariana finished disposing of my lethal handiwork and washed her hands clean in the pail of ocean water kept near the door. “You will braid your hair tonight.” She told me as she ran her coarse fingers through the silky waves. “A woman's power can be intensified through a braid.” “For in the plait of her hair is created the loop of infinity, and through infinity the universe may be reached. To do so carefully is to ask its blessing, and through that, its strength.” I responded readily, smiling as I did so. “Ah.” Ariana smiled. “There. The child does listen to me when I speak every now and then.” “I always listen to you.” I said with a smile I knew was a little too cheeky, a little too wide. “Hopeless.” The older woman mumbled with a smile as she picked some herbs from near the eastern wall and tossed them carelessly into the stew. “I suggest only another few moments of stirring, dear.” She told me. “This is a special meal. You do not want to ruin it with over-working.” I brushed my hair out of my eyes and looked to the western sky. The sun would be setting soon. I could not stop the thrill of anticipation that rose in my heart. Whatever it was that Ariana had planned, after this night I would be considered a woman. She had impressed upon me that I would not only be a woman in my eyes, I would be one in the eyes of the gods. It was every young girl's dream to become a woman, and even I in my secluded raising was no different. There was a certain power that came with the acknowledgement, or so I thought there was. “Do not dawdle!” I heard Ariana call from inside the hut. “You have to eat and then draw the correct symbols upon your body. Come fetch the bowls.” I ate hurriedly, perhaps faster than I should have for my stomach ached afterwards. The ache could have easily been attributed to nervousness though, for when Ariana came back with a bowl of liquid, stirring it slowly and carefully, I noted that she had lined her eyes with the same and braided her hair back away from her face. It easily took ten years from her age, but more than that it gave her a terribly mysterious and magical quality. It struck a chord within me and I fancied I could feel a tension on the air, as though the universe held its breath when she took the small brush and dipped it in the paint, bringing it to my forehead and beginning to draw the first line of what would be the symbol of a constellation, the path of those sacred stars. As she drew the symbol upon my forehead she whispered something in a guttural, seductive language that I had been taught but had not fully mastered. She was asking for blessing, for guidance, for vision. A different prayer fell from her lips as she drew symbols upon my feet, and then upon the palms of my hands. I had been dressed in sheer indigo veils, my robe left behind. I felt royal, I felt godlike. As she knelt and began tracing the letters of the ancient language upon my calves I felt worshiped, adored. I knew it had to be an illusion, that it was part of a rite of passage, but it made my heart beat within my chest to feel the softness of the brush as it brushed over where my womb lay and then higher to my navel as veils were pushed aside. “Tonight you will truly be the child of the stars.” She murmured to me as she placed the symbol of the lion upon my right breast and the symbol of the bear upon my left. “Tonight they will see you for it. They will know that you are now ready.” “Of what do you speak?” I asked her, my voice sounding breathy and warm even in my own ears. Why did I feel desire? It was not for the older woman at my feet but more an essence that permeated me, flowed through me. It was feral and it was intoxicating, and as she lined my eyes I repeated the question. “You shall know, Cynara, child of the scrolls.” She cryptically reassured me. She leaned back on her heels, the brush returning to the bowl. She gazed upon me critically. “You are ready.” She said and awkwardly pushed herself up to her feet. “Come with me.” She said with a small smile. “It is time.” But as I followed her I had to ask myself, time for what? I had not been informed of the events of tonight, though they were bound to be simplistic, merely between the woman who walked in front of me and myself. Everything had been terribly cryptic and my curiosity was at its peak. She led me into the forest with its palm-fringed banks and its sandy floor. Creatures whispered amongst themselves and scurried amongst the undergrowth as sandaled feet walked carefully so as not to be tripped up by a tree root or wandering vine. In a section that looked like any other my pallet had been laid out upon the ground. One small light – some concoction of scented oil and twisted fabric from which the flame danced – was laid beside the bed of straw and feathers. “We are here.” Ariana told me without need. “I do not understand.” I murmured as I took in my bed, the soft light that surrounded it. “Child, you have been ruled by your visions.” The older woman explained to me patiently as she took herbs out of her robe and began crushing them between her fingers. “From the first moon you were under my charge until this very moment the stars and those who reside within them have spoken to you, have whispered to you things that men have either never known or have forgotten. Your passage into womanhood can be played out no differently than to have them speak with you, for you to commune with them.” The odor from the crushed herbs in her palm was pungent, and I was not surprised when she pressed the mass into my hand, saying “Eat. It will open the doorway to you.” It was a concoction I had tasted of before, usually reserved for when concentration was at its most elusive. I placed it within my mouth and forced myself to chew upon the bitter leaves before swallowing. “Stay here until morning.” Ariana advised. “Take what is offered you. Gifts of the spirit are to always be cherished and never taken for granted.” “Yes.” I told her simply as I knelt beside the pallet in the sandy earth. “Until morning's light.” I heard her murmur, her footsteps already retreating as carefully as they had made their way. As I lay there upon the pallet some time later the canopy of leaves above me made the night sky shift, as though veils moved, showing first one set of constellations, then subtly shifting to reveal another, then another. Had I not known the skills Ariana possessed I would have suspected the herbs, but I knew there was something more – something of importance that hovered upon a metaphoric horizon. It merely awaited my permission; my acknowledgement of its presence. That acknowledgement came in the form of a sigh that arched my back, a breeze that made the candle's flame flicker and shake. The vision of shifting stars faded; the canopy of leaves and branches bowed back like an admirer before someone glorious, someone breath-taking. And it was, but my breath was not all that was rendered still by its appearance. My heart, my very soul grew quiet as though holding its breath for some impending cataclysm, and it was not a fearful pose. What that canopy had bowed to reveal was the constellation representing the stag – the lover. And as my lips parted, as my body felt overwhelmed, the stag emerged from his celestial home and his eyes burned with emerald fire. He was the pale deer, a vision of snow both devoid of color and possessed of it. Horns majestic and graceful arched from a noble head and as the heavy form moved, I knew it was more than a simple deer I was witnessing. The vision descended and my heart sprung to life within my chest, beating and fluttering as though it had grown wings and sought to create an opening within my chest from which it could escape and take flight. The cause? Never had a vision left those mysterious stars. Never had I seen the bear or the lion touch prophetic feet to the sandy earth. Never had these creatures approached me with the sedate confidence and patience the stag – now as earthbound as I – displayed. Ethereal had become solid. Elusive had become definite, and for the first time I questioned if it was indeed a vision, or if something far more tactile was occurring before my star-struck eyes. “Child of the stars.” It was a man's voice that issued from the stag's mouth. It was velvety and soothing; those things women dream of a voice containing as well as more. “Will you have me?” The question – put so simply – caught me off-guard. What would I have of him? Would it be wisdom, understanding, strength? “I do not understand.” “You do.” The voice said to me as eyes of emerald fire held my own. “You feel it in your abdomen, the tightness that grips your womb: You are a woman and I am the lover. I ask again, child of the stars, child of our womb, will you have me?” “I will.” The answer breathed from my lips like prayer, like the start of a litany that gripped my very soul. “Will you approach me?” The male voice had taken on a deeper note, a seduction and confidence that made my shoulders tense and my lips part. I gave no verbal response. Instead I pushed myself to my knees and then to my feet, veils caught in a current of air that seemed far more intimate – not air but instead the brush of fingers, a push of breath. I approached the noble creature and when I reached him my hands moved to caress down the pale pronged arc of antlers that were curiously smooth and continued down, fingers sinking into unblemished fur that was surprisingly soft, amazingly thick and luxurious. I had once fancied I grasped an understanding of animism, of gods associated with creatures that roamed the earth. But, when the stag's face began to shift and change I realized that I had known nothing. Snow-hued fur grew longer and finger of texture, flesh the warm color of autumn leaves emerged as bones shifted and disappeared – molded themselves into a man's face so triangular it was almost delicate and hopelessly beautiful. Hide became flesh and the creature's form became that of a crouching man of lean, sculpted beauty. I was too filled with awe to blush at his nakedness, too filled with wonder to acknowledge how firm, how real, his cheeks felt beneath my fingertips. “Wondrous.” The word rolled from my tongue in tones I did not know I possessed. It was the voice of a woman, a creature who knew the ways of earth and god, man and woman. “Beautiful.” The sultry voice whispered. “Gifted.” The eyes were still burning emerald, flickering and ever-changing, a reminder that this was something other than a man, something more than a man. “Will you have me?” The question became intimate as it escaped full lips the hue of summer's last cherry. I became painfully aware of his nudity. I knew that he was thick and ready between his legs and that the fire within his all-consuming eyes burned with more than godhood. I made my words bold but my voice remained breathy, possessed of a tremble that was both youth and a desire I did not understand. “I would never deny The Lover.” I told him. “Thrice I have asked. Will you accept me thrice?” The voice was softer and I fancied there was something both uncertain and filled with ritual, with promise. What possessed me then I do not know. Perhaps it was merely my own certainty, my own need. I pressed veiled and tender flesh against him, marveling only briefly at how flesh fitted perfectly to flesh. “I accept you.” I whispered and kissed one shoulder. “I accept you.” A kiss to the center of his chest. “I accept you.” The last merely a whisper as I placed a kiss to the other shoulder. And at that moment, the cataclysm my soul had anticipated broke forth in earnest. His hands were on my body, his mouth upon mine. Lips never kissed were suddenly assailed, and his tongue consumed mine as though he would possess all of me, drink my very soul from that point of pleasure. I was unable to cry out, unable to do anything but drown in the wealth of pleasure and taste he bestowed upon me. The fire in his eyes became the fire upon my skin as petal-soft fingers shifted through veil to touch flesh, to knead the breast he exposed as his tongue thrust within my mouth as though it were other – more secret – things. The experience sought to overwhelm me but my feet remained grounded until The Lover, the stag, lifted me into arms filled with a universe of strength, an infinity of power. The simple pallet was no longer a place for me to rest my head and gaze at the stars, but instead a place for me to part veil-shrouded legs for the thick and heavy desire he pressed against me. There were no words between us because none were needed. He was deity and I the one who communed with him. There were no cries or gasps of pleasure because we were suddenly beyond the mundane, in a place where pleasure was too pure to be marred with sound. If there was pain I did not feel it, if there was uncertainty it was not mine. It was as though childhood was lifted away from me as simply as my clothing and I was a woman. I was a woman and I was more than that. I was a lover, and as he began to move within me, hips rising and falling with liquid and supple grace, I felt the stars. I felt them within my skyward-turned eyes, could taste them upon my tongue. And I felt them between my legs and within my heart. My lips parted in a soundless, wordless scream as I was plunged to the edge of that universe, as I was thrown over it into a chasm I felt I would never escape. Light burst before my eyes and within my head. My body clenched and shook as though possessed; heat filled my most secret places as well as flushed my cheeks. And the creature that moved above me became a frenzied thing, controlled by the same pleasure that had wracked my form, blurred my mind. The universe fell around me when I felt him release inside me. My body sang with the sound my mouth could not utter. I was a thousand women, and he a thousand men. I knew things, things of which I had never been taught, never dreamed of. Pleasure became a primal entity and my ears were filled with a rushing sound. The man above me cried out, and his cry was both animal and man, deity and mundane. And my cry came with his, the ritualistic silence shattered with a sound so filled with passion and pleasure the forest hushed, as though the entire world paused in that moment and held its breath, as possessed by us as we were of each other. ~*~ Xenos shot up in his bed as though violently awaken. His chest heaved with the pounding of his heart and the force of his breath. He was suddenly possessed of a foreboding, of something left unfinished. But what, he asked himself, could that possibly be? [Next Chapter]