The patch of blue widened above the distant eastern horizon behind them, but the pale light failed to illuminate the dense layer of fog ahead. Moisture muted their surroundings. In the eerie silence, even the waves lapped noiselessly.
“Rocks may mean land, or they may mean submerged dangers to crash against,” one of the captain’s men explained when she questioned. “We are not familiar with this shore. The captain sailed with his father while a boy. He is the widest traveled of us. I do not envy his decision now.”
Tasia handed the water to another acolyte and rose, straightening her crumpled tunic. She had learned to walk on a wildly pitching deck, but she had scarcely slept in two days. Her knees were weak. She could not let her character be the same. She worked her way forward to where Nautilus stood on the prow, a ray of golden sunshine highlighting his yellow hair. He stood tall on the upper deck, and the sun appeared to seek him out despite the thick gloom.
Except for the captain, Tasia could see no more than the swirling gray clouds of fog. Be there dragons, pirates, or rocks ahead, they had no choice except to look for land or die at sea.
“The goddess has brought us to shelter,” she stated firmly, standing beside the captain, straining to see just a glimpse of green. “The Chalice will bring us Plenty, as promised.”
“We are likely to founder on the rocks and bring plenty to the fishes,” he argued. “I see no safe harbor, nothing but high cliffs. We’ll have to sail around.”
“I cannot see your cliffs,” she said in puzzlement. The captain must have the eyes of a bird or the guidance skills of a fish in water.
“My vision is external. The visions your goddess sends is internal,” he suggested. “I hear the waves against high rocks, smell the salt, feel the cliffs blocking the wind. This place is not on the map I know in my head. I have no idea how far from the mainland we have blown. I do not even know for certain which sea we sail.”
“We are low on drinking water,” she reminded him. “Surely there is some way of finding a harbor where we could explore.”
“Rocks do not provide water. No disrespect, lady,” the stubborn captain retorted, “but my task is to sail us to safety. Yours is to tend to our souls.”
Tasia had not been raised to anger, but she had the urge to slap this arrogant man who fought her every request. “Your theology is not mine, then,” she said coldly. “My task is to be a vessel for Aelynn, grant her wishes that she may bless her worshippers. And to that end, I must care for her acolytes, and they need water. There is fever. It will spread unless the ill can be isolated. Please, let us land. There might be water even on rocks.”
The golden sailor frowned, held up his hand for silence, and listened to the birds. Or the breeze. Or to the air blowing between his ears for all Tasia knew. She had little knowledge of men and soldiers. She had aided Alexandra these last years, though, and had some knowledge of authority. It was heeded best when backed with experience, and she had none.
The captain gestured for the sail to be furled. Another order had the men rowing one stroke at a time, testing the rocky but fog-concealed walls that the man in the bow swore rose around them.
As the sun climbed higher, the fog grew thinner. Now Tasia could see the formidable cliffs defining the narrow channel they sailed. The women gasped in awe and shivered in fear as the oars hit upon solid stone beneath the water and shoved away. Maintaining her stoic expression, Tasia strained to see ahead.
“Can we be trapped in here?” she murmured to the captain.
“If we can row in, we should be able to row out.” He hesitated, as if leaving something unsaid.
Tasia considered all the possibilities of pirates and brigands and enemy soldiers and was happy not to have any of her fears confirmed. She bowed her head and prayed fervently.
As if understanding her needs, Charis approached bearing the chalice in her arms. In relief, Tasia lifted the sacred object above her head and hailed the goddess. High above the rocky shadows, the dawn’s light blessed the gold.
Aloud, she gave prayers of thanks to Aelynn for leading them from danger and imploring Her aid in bringing them to safety. Sirene accompanied her prayers with songs of thanksgiving.
As if strengthened by the certainty of the women, the men rowed with more enthusiasm, maneuvering a channel they could only sense through the heavy moist air and deep shadows.
“Aelynn, bestow your blessings upon all these good men and women,” Tasia chanted.
A rumble and shudder not unlike that of the land they left behind sloshed the waves on deck. Women screamed. Nautilus looked grim.
And then, as if Aelynn heeded her call, the fog lifted and the shadows parted. The sweet scent of lemon trees tickled her nose. And the galley glided into a wide natural harbor of crystalline blue waters and a black sand beach. A rock bluff rose high above the north side of the U-shaped harbor. The beach at the center of the waterfront gradually sloped upward to where tall palms danced in a breeze. In the far distance, well above the trees, loomed a high mountain surrounded by fog, steam, or smoke. Tasia couldn’t quite tell.
Undisturbed vegetation lined the shoreline and beach. No cook fires smoked. No paths indicated animal or man trampling down to enjoy the gentle surf. Not a single building marred the pristine landscape.
“Volcano,” Nautilus ventured. “We’ve found a volcanic island.”
“You have seen these before?” she asked, studying the smoking mountain with trepidation.
“There are many islands like this. Most are not habitable.”
“But this one is,” she breathed in triumph, gazing at the trees lining the black beach. “Aelynn has brought us to safety.”
As the rowers took them closer to shore, and no pirates or monsters appeared to greet them, her words couldn’t be refuted. But Nautilus looked unconvinced as he gave orders to land the galley.
They sailed safely into the natural port, but gazes constantly swiveled to search the narrow aperture they’d just navigated, watching for the second boat.
Even if the others were still alive, how could they possibly find their way through such a hidden passage?
* * *
The men Nautilus sent into the interior of the island returned with jugs of spring water and edible fruit they’d scavenged from trees and plants. Their efforts were rewarded by shy smiles from some of the women and enthusiasm from the children.
Others of the crew fished the harbor and provided for their evening meal. The women used their spare herbs and few tools to cook the fish. The crew carried the ship’s supplies to shores, and the acolytes fried flatbread and roasted vegetables over fires struck from the sailor’s flint boxes.
Together, forgetting some of their awkwardness in their haste to create shelter, both the acolytes and sailors learned to weave palm fronds around poles to create temporary roofs.
Aelynn had provided, indeed. The next morning, Nautilus surveyed the impromptu camp with approval—and doubt. For now, his crew was in awe of the virtuous servants of a goddess, and the acolytes were intimidated by hairy, rough men. They simply worked together to provide necessities.
In a day or two, reality would sink in. The men would realize that if they stayed here, they were foresworn not to touch the virgins, but there was no one to pay them for their obedience. They would want to leave, but to where and what? All they knew had been destroyed.
No willing women waited for them in a lively village filled with opportunity to invest their gold. The crew had brought their money pouches with them, but what good were coins without civilization? They would have to leave this island to spend them, and for all they knew, they were surrounded by pirates and warring Romans.
In the meantime, the ill had to be tended. They’d been isolated in their own shelter on the far side of the black sand beach, where several of the vestals cared for them. The women had even provided a bed for injured and feverish crew—which kept grumblings to a minimum. Had the women expected to be waited on, his crew would be plotting
their escape already.
Groups of men and women set out together to search the interior. Nautilus set a few of his crew to guarding the encampment and others to rest.
He couldn’t rest while half his men were lost.
He sought the priestess and found her with the ill. She handed over her duties to another, rose, and led him into the shelter of trees.
“We must find some way of separating the men and women,” she said with a weary sigh, “but I haven’t the strength for it now. Is there some way you can order your men to keep their distance?
“For the moment, they’re working well together. My men are duty bound to protect your maidens—until such time as they realize we are here without the authority of church or state to guide or pay us,” Nautilus said cynically. “Prayers can only do so much against temptation.”
She winced and nodded wearily, and he was sorry for his cruel words. She was much too sheltered to understand the temptation of dozens of women. He’d have to handle his crew.
“Aelynn’s teachings promise that we shall have plenty so long as we shall be like children unto her. She has always provided bounty, as you can see from this island.” She gestured at the rich land spreading as far as the eye could see. “Our sacred chalice is called the Chalice of Plenty, a gift directly from the gods. We must uphold her laws or risk losing all. I have not been given any insight on how to deal with temptation.”
A temptation the isolated maidens had never known, Nautilus thought. The women were as human as his men.
The young musician with the haunting voice hesitated at the edge of the clearing, obviously waiting for her priestess. Nautilus gestured toward her, and the lady raised a questioning eyebrow. “Yes, Sirene?”
“Since Mageiras isn’t here to cook, I thought I might help,” the musician said tentatively. “Heron has offered to teach me how to use a spare flint box to start the fire, so we need not wait for the men to provide us. Do I have your permission to work with him?”
Nautilus knew his lieutenant wished to help where he could, but the man also had an eye for a beautiful woman, and the musician was lovely. He refrained from commenting as the priestess hesitated, then reluctantly agreed. “We should all learn as much from each other as we can,” she admitted. “There are no other cookfires to borrow from in this place.”
Not knowing how near the mainland might be, nor who inhabited it, self-sufficiency was necessary for their immediate survival. Nautilus approved of her decision but knew she did not understand the bonds that developed between people who worked together. He hoped her goddess was an understanding one.
“How do we seek the other galley?” the lady asked after the musician departed. “Once we’re all together again, we can plan.”
“That was the reason I sought you out,” he said in relief that she understood. “I need to sail out and find a way of signaling them. We also need to mark the entrance so we can find it again. We will need oil to set rushes burning. Your chalice has provided so much, dare we ask its blessing to steer our comrades to our door?”
It wasn’t as if he actually believed the goddess had provided, but his men needed belief in more than a mortal captain. He hated to ask more of this frail female. Her head barely reached his shoulders. Dark circles rimmed the fair skin around her eyes. She must have been up all night working with the ill and hadn’t taken time to fasten loosened strands of white-blond hair. Wisps blew around her face and throat like gossamer threads.
But at his request, she straightened her spine with the firmness of iron and spoke with authority. “We will hold a brief ceremony and prayers if your men can build a small altar in a protected place. When do you need to sail?”
She was stronger than he’d thought, and her mind clearly followed his own. Had she been any other woman . . . he would have kissed her in gratitude.
“We need to sail when the tide turns at daybreak. Will a tree trunk suffice as altar until we return?”
She nodded acceptance. “I will find a place where my vestals can gather. Your men will need to stay outside of the area, but their prayers are always welcome.”
“Does Aelynn require sacrifices?” Nautilus asked warily. “We have little to give.”
She closed her eyes and appeared to drift off to sleep while she stood there. Nautilus frowned, prepared to catch her if she toppled over. He feared being struck by lightning for touching a priestess, but he couldn’t bear to see her harmed.
Oddly, as she swayed, he felt as if another force entered the clearing, an invisible one that encompassed the priestess and brushed impatiently at him for daring nearness. He stepped back in surprise. Did she truly gain her strength from some unseen element?
He was superstitious enough about his own instincts to believe they were provided by Poseidon. Perhaps the lady’s instincts came from air.
Her lids fluttered. She shook herself, seemed to glance around to remember where she was, and nodded. “I think in our case, work is the sacrifice. Aelynn’s vestals have specific duties they have learned, but they are not all useful at times like these. If we are to stay here for long, we must all take on tasks for which we are not trained. It will not be easy.”
“Work, we can do.” He hesitated, then accepting that she might have knowledge beyond his own, asked the question that preyed on everyone’s mind. “Will we stay here? Or attempt to return?”
“There is no return to what we once had,” she said sadly. “We can hope Aelynn has led us to our new home, and that we will be safe here.”
Nautilus glanced up at the volcano and thought that highly unlikely, but for now, he kept his thoughts to himself. His missing crew came first.
He sent men to split fallen tree trunks and carry them toward the thicket of flowered shrubs the priestess chose for her temple.
* * *
While the men hacked at trees, Tasia sought the blessing of Aelynn in the tropical bower she’d selected. A sweet clear stream trickled over a pebble bed. Tall, heavily flowered bushes created a natural wall. The arching fronds of palms provided a ceiling.
It wasn’t soaring marble and artistically carved and painted friezes, but she sensed the same peace here as in the lost sanctuary.
She kneeled and offered up prayers of thanksgiving for their safe passage. The spirit descended with more purity than it had at home. Her brow unfurrowed, her heart steadied, and she breathed deeply, wrapping herself in the bliss of acceptance.
In Tasia’s inner vision, the goddess descended in a halo of light and clouds. With a sweep of her hand, Aelynn showed a future of fruitful gardens, a temple of flowers, sturdy homes . . . and children. Be fruitful and multiply, raise your people in my name and by my precepts, she commanded. Understand me now . . . let the children be as children.
Tasia drank in the serenity of the garden, the confidence that she’d never possessed, the future that could be theirs . . .
Daskala had to wake her from her trance. “Forgive my intrusion, my lady, but the altar is ready. The men are eager to leave and find their comrades. We would like to see Mageiras and Gaia and the others again.”
Tasia rose, still awestruck by the power of the vision she’d been given. Had the fasting of these past days opened her mind? Or simply created hallucinations?
She blinked and realized it was dawn. She’d spent the night in Aelynn’s temple.
“I am not certain if Aelynn or Aphrodite has lured us here,” Tasia murmured, glancing around at the almost hedonistic surroundings, struggling to interpret the vision she’d received. “I believe Aelynn is demanding more worshippers. Our few numbers aren’t sufficient.”
Daskala’s eyes widened. “You have Seen this? What does this mean? We are to convert the sailors?”
“That is one method,” Tasia agreed dryly. “But she shows me children and tells us to be fruitful and multiply.”
“How is that possible? Did not Aelynn command her vestals to be as children so she might speak to us?” Daskala asked in true puzzlement.
Tasia raised her eyebrows and waited for the older teacher to grasp what she herself did not entirely understand.
“Oh.” Daskala looked pained, then warily interested. “Your vision cannot come from Aphrodite. Only Aelynn speaks through you. And she wants us to . . .” The teacher gestured helplessly, looking alarmed. “Then I suppose we must obey, somehow.”
“I have seen you admiring the sailor called Demetri and think your agreement a little too convenient,” Tasia said wryly. “But my vision says nothing of whether we might continue conversing with the goddess if we succumb to the pleasures of the flesh. I fear I am interpreting wrongly.”
“In all my years, the goddess has never deigned to speak with me,” Daskala said with a shrug. “I will assume I am not worthy. Before we resolve anything, we must find the others. It’s the fate of all that we decide, and they must be part of the decision.”
The pleasures of the flesh. Tasia shivered with the awareness of her surroundings and of the young, muscled men waiting on the beach. A priestess was chosen from those to whom the goddess spoke—and the goddess spoke only to virgins. Tasia had been receiving visions since infancy—the reason she’d been brought to the temple. Her family had thought her mad.
The women to whom the goddess had never spoken might be willing to give up their maidenhood and expectations, but a chosen priestess? That would take daring she did not possess. The goddess was her family.
Still . . . Gazing on the brawny captain shouting orders, waving muscled arms, standing in the sand like a human Zeus, Tasia yearned to feel the strength of his arms, the pounding of his heart, the sturdiness of his chest. Just once, if she could feel the pleasure of flesh against flesh, a gentle caress, a touch of fondness . . .
With regret, she turned away from any such knowledge and set her sights on preparing for the promised future. Her place was to bring Aelynn’s dream of plenty to others.
Mystic Isle Page 3