Eros Island

by Lucinda Betts, Dawn Thompson

  “Your willing submission isn’t necessary, Princess,” Lycurgus said. The animal-like expression in his eyes scared me, and I stopped myself from stepping back. How could this creature honor the Mother Goddess?

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Perhaps I even prefer you in an unyielding frame of mind.”

  He sounded like Earth Shaker’s minion. Then I realized—I could determine Lycurgus’s alliance for certain. If I had the courage.

  Lycurgus strode toward me, but I stood my ground. He bent, and my stomach squirmed but I kept my feet in place, my back straight. My expression remained haughty even as he brushed his wet tongue over my bared nipple.

  Then Lycurgus encountered Kleio’s bared fangs. The Lapith king jumped back, colliding into Chiron—and I knew. His fear of snakes was more than normal caution. Lycurgus hated serpents.

  Lycurgus belonged to Earth Shaker.

  Fury overtook me. This man would have won the Mother Rite tourney. I would have handed my palace and all her alliances to him.

  In a heartbeat Lycurgus regained his composure and brandished his sword—but he threatened me this time, not Chiron. I grabbed Kleio, mentally apologizing to my scaly friend for what I was about to do.

  “Lycurgus,” I said. As his eyes met mine, I threw my asp toward his face. He shrieked like a maiden as Kleio coiled around his neck.

  Chiron grabbed Lycurgus’s arm and twisted it hard behind him. Lycurgus tried to spin away from the cruel grip, but Chiron was stronger, even in human form.

  We had him.

  Suddenly, the dark hues of the forest shifted, some coming into focus while others disappeared altogether. I stood, and a small white owl stood on the ground before me.

  Then I realized: it wasn’t an owl—it was a woman.

  But she was no ordinary woman. The Mother Goddess, taller than I, held a black serpent in each hand, and they writhed angrily.

  Lycurgus ceased his attack on Chiron. “You whore!” he said to the Goddess. “Earth Shaker should be here, not you! What have you done to him?”

  “Nothing he didn’t enjoy,” she said with a sweet smile and unexpectedly tossed a snake.

  Instinctively, Lycurgus tried to catch it, but he missed. The snake hit his wrist and slithered across his forearm. Before he knew it, his wrist was bound to a small tree, which had sprung up behind him. “What the—”

  But the Mother Goddess was tossing the second snake at Lycurgus, even as a third appeared in her hand. The second snake bound his other wrist to the tree. She tossed the third snake and a fourth, which jerked his ankles apart, then tied them to the tree trunk.

  “Look at me, Lycurgus,” she demanded, her voice as creamy as fresh milk. “What do you see now? A whore? Truly?”

  Her flounced skirt fell gracefully to the ground, covering her feet and ankles, and an apron made of fish scales covered her sex. A tight belt snaked around her tiny waist, making her bared breasts seem incredibly large.

  “What do you see?” she insisted.

  Lycurgus looked at her face. The power of her gaze hurt him somehow. The black pools held death in their depths, even I could see.

  “Power,” he said. Finally.

  The owl perched on her head nodded slowly in approval, but the snakes holding Lycurgus’s wrists and ankles began to writhe and hiss, opening their mouths so that their venom dripped on his skin. Their fangs glittered.

  Lycurgus began to shriek, high-pitched and unmanly. “Earth Shaker! I need your aid!”

  The noise filled the forest, but the Mother Goddess shrugged and turned. Suddenly no sound came from the Lapith King, although his mouth gaped and he appeared to be shouting.

  “What will you do with him?” I asked, unafraid of her now.

  “That remains to be seen. Mostly it depends on you.” Then she threw a snake toward me.

  I caught him perfectly. “Kleio!” I exclaimed as he slithered around my arm and to my breast where he belonged. “Thank you!” I said to her.

  “Your asp friend would like me to tell you he enjoyed his task,” she said, winking one of her kohl-lined eyes. “Apparently, Kleio enjoys a good jest.”

  “Naughty snake,” I said with admiration, caressing his smooth scales.

  “My lady,” Chiron said, bowing to her. She lent him the glow of an immortal. “What is your desire, Mother Goddess?”

  “The Tears of Eternity.”

  “The Tears,” I said, trying not to scoff. “Their existence has no factual basis.”

  The owl on the Mother’s head laughed, a light tinkling sound. “They exist, a result of past mischief by Earth Shaker,” the Mother Goddess said.

  “And I suppose they grant your heart’s desire.” Sarcasm probably wasn’t the best attitude to use with the Mother Goddess, but I couldn’t help myself.

  “The Tears deliver fate,” she said. “Deliver them, and I’ll rid Crete of Earth Shaker’s trouble.”

  Something hardened in Chiron’s expression. He doubted. “What if we use the Tears on Earth Shaker ourselves?” he asked.

  “The Tears are not for mortals,” the Mother Goddess said. “It’s true they’ll deliver your heart’s desire, but they’ll wrench something precious from you, too.”

  I had no intention of using them, but if retrieving them would free our land from Earth Shaker—his quakes and patriarchical ways—I would find them. “Where do we get the supposed Tears?” I asked.

  “Hunt the leopard.”

  Chiron shook his head, and the sunlight lit the coppery glints in his hair. “There are no leopards on Crete.”

  “Lycurgus brought one with a particular taste for centaur flesh,” I said.

  “Let us hunt, then,” he said.

  “No.” Both the Mother and the Centaur King looked at me. I thought of the way the leopard had sniffed Chiron’s robe, the ecstasy that had crossed its feline face. “I’ll do this on my own. This is my quest, my responsibility.”

  The owl on the Mother’s head laughed, filling the verdant Glade with the sound of tinkling bells. Our bows and daggers appeared at the Mother’s feet, quivers full.

  I turned toward Chiron and said, “Meet me back at the palace.”

  “You ask too much of me, Princess.” The gray in his eyes was clouded. “I cannot leave you alone.”

  His desire to protect me—to adjoin his strength to mine rather than to replace it—grabbed my heart and twisted it. “Track me while I track the beast, if it pleases you then.”

  I’d defeat the leopard before it scented Chiron.

  Not a twig crackled beneath my careful feet. No dried leaves gave me away. The Mother Goddess had set us on the leopard’s trail, and I could still feel the pulsing of her power through the earth, though we’d left Her glade a while back.

  My progress was unusually steady, and I was proud of it. Although I ached deep within my core from my early morning’s activities with Chiron, it was a good ache, and I felt strong. Traversing a particularly deep drift of leaves, I didn’t made a sound.

  As if rewarding my care and self-assurance, the Mother gave me a gift. Among the thick debris of forest, a surprising bare patch of mud lay before me. And that was the gift: the mud had captured the leopard’s print.

  Without making a noise, I indicated the track to Chiron, who remained several steps behind me. He didn’t step toward it or inspect it, to my chagrin; I would’ve liked to smell him, to feel the heat of his skin near mine. I would’ve liked to run my—

  But I stopped that thought as he nodded at my find. I needed to remain focused. Kleio flicked his dry tongue on my shoulder in agreement.

  Ignoring the almost physical sensation of Chiron’s eyes on me, I turned my gaze back toward the leopard track. Pointing north, the print was fresh. The delicate edges hadn’t yet begun to crust, and no pollen or detritus had accumulated within the small valleys made by the animal’s pads.

  Even if I’d never seen the deadly beast, I would have known from the size of the foot that the cat was huge, masculine
. In my mind’s eye, I could envision the play of muscle and sinew covering him; I could see the raw power emanating from him—the beast was like Chiron that way.

  Kleio slithered from one breast to another, reminding me to keep my mind on the task. I looked at the track again.

  Making no sound, I stood, listening. Where had the beast gone? I heard nothing from the cat. No panting; no purring. No cracking of bones as it ate.

  The passage of this hunter through the forest even silenced the birds. Now, I heard only the gentle noise of the Aegean Sea to the north, lapping the shore of my beloved Crete.

  I took a silent step toward the forest’s interior but still saw nothing. Breathing quietly I scanned the surrounding foliage. I tried to fight a growing panic; I saw no clues.

  Then leaves rustled almost imperceptibly to the east, making my heart pound. The leopard was close.

  Walking up the path, I slid an arrow from my quiver and nocked it to my bowstring. Keeping three fingers on the sinew, I started my silent walk again.

  After several steps I stopped. The path I’d been following had opened up. Where had the creature gone? The topography didn’t suggest a direction.

  I knew what I had to do.

  Closing my eyes, I opened myself to the Mother, beseeching Her to guide my senses. My asp, curled around my breast, relaxed his muscles. Kleio’s trust calmed me, and I felt no sense of pressure, no urgency. The need to impress Chiron, to snag his attention, had subsided as well. Now, only a quiet confidence in my ability to track this cat imbued me.

  I could do this, with the Mother’s help.

  Finally the Mother Goddess spoke, in her own strange language. Heat from the ground beneath my bared feet pulsed up my legs, leaving me dizzy. Kleio’s tongue flicked over my nipple, a sure sign the Mother was close. Her touch spiraled around my knees and up my inner thighs. When the power swirled through my stomach and across my hardened nipples I knew the Mother Goddess would guide me.

  Then I opened my eyes. My gaze fell immediately on a silky strand. The hair, caught on a long, red raspberry cane, was fat and shining in the gold sun. I could see the change in the color: black at the root, to a red-gold, and then back to black.

  It belonged to the leopard.

  The raspberry cane was adjacent to the eastern path. Drawing back the bowstring just a bit more, I headed east. I could smell the big cat’s musky scent. He was so close.

  I didn’t want to sacrifice stealth for speed, but a new urgency was upon me. The Mother was directing me, I was sure of it. She wanted me to hurry.

  Placing my feet on sandy spots, avoiding twigs and dried leaf litter, I stepped more quickly. My heart was pounding now. My fingers clutched at the sinew string and pulled it back a little tighter.

  Then the huge beast dropped on me from the tree over my head. Saliva-coated fangs and outstretched claws flashed before my eyes. The stink of cat filled my nose.

  But the Mother had my hand, and my flint-tipped arrow, strong with the power of my ancestors, flew unerringly to the beast’s throat. It hit with a solid thud, and a shower of hot blood splattered me, filling my mouth with that copper taste.

  “Yes!” I cried in pleasure at my success. The huge body of the animal somersaulted over me and hit the ground. It was dead. Surely it was dead.

  With bunched muscles, Kleio slithered from my breast to my neck, tasting the cat’s blood from my cheeks, testing it.

  “Yes!” I cried again into the quiet forest. I wanted Chiron to know I’d succeeded. I’d found and conquered the leopard!

  But my celebration was too soon.

  A cloud passed over the sun and I looked down at the cat. The leopard at my feet blinked at me a moment, and I blinked back, sliding my hand toward my bronze dagger.

  Wasn’t it dying? Locked on mine, its dark eyes flashed with hatred. The life and intelligence I saw in the animal’s gaze frightened me. I thought I’d killed it.

  Then I saw something else. My carefully fletched arrow was buried at least a handspan into the animal’s throat. Shallow arcs of blood were landing in the sandy dirt and pooling. The leopard should be dead; it must be dying.

  My hand relaxed its grip on the hilt of the knife and the cloud moved away from the sun. A golden sunbeam caught the cat’s dappled fur, illuminated the dense black spots, the swirls of amber and onyx.

  But then the sun flashed over the cat, and its fur turned white. Or so I thought as I blinked again. The giant cat leaped to its feet and disappeared into the wood.

  The trail of blood it left in its wake was real, clearly red. When I touched it, it was hot and sticky.

  Something in me hardened. White-furred or spotted, I wanted the animal dead.

  I stood to track the beast again.

  I wasn’t quiet as I sprinted along the blood trail. Seeing wet, crimson spots splattered over fig leaves, I crashed through bushes, heading into a section of forest I’d never explored.

  “Akantha,” Chiron called from behind me. How had he gotten so far behind me? The sound of his fading voice was shocking—but not shocking enough to stop me. “Wait!” he called again.

  I didn’t wait. This was my quest—I had to kill the leopard. Ignoring the lure of Chiron’s deep voice, I burst past another clump of foliage. Blood pumped in my ears and I struggled for breath—but then, I found the leopard.

  My eyes hadn’t deceived me. His black-on-amber spots had truly disappeared. The animal before me, coolly lapping from a sky-blue pond I’d never seen before, had turned as white as the clouds above me. He stood in a field of flowers, the white carnations used to celebrate a queen’s choosing.

  The leopard stopped drinking and stared at me. My arrow was gone from his throat, and I saw no blood on his bone-white fur.

  “Akantha,” the leopard said. His voice came out somewhere between a growl and a purr. It made my blood run cold. “You like animals—why don’t we fuck?”

  I spun around looking for Chiron, wishing I hadn’t left him so far behind. I suddenly felt naked.

  And Kleio was gone from my breast, too, which meant only one thing—I was no longer in the physical world.

  “Oh, Mother,” I breathed.

  The cat grinned at me, feral and wicked. “It’s just you and me, Akantha. No Chiron, no asp.” He yawned a huge yawn, showing me his razor-sharp teeth. “And no Mother, either, that bitch.”

  With clenched teeth, I nocked another arrow, wishing I had my flint arrowhead, wishing I could throw the weight of my ancestors at this unnatural creature.

  The white leopard casually licked his shoulder, cleaned his fur, while I took aim. His eyes were as coldly blue as the pond at his feet. I loosed the arrow, and it flew true, right into its chest. A surge of satisfaction coursed through me.

  But then I saw the strike brought no blood. The arrow was buried deep in his chest, but it caused no wound. Instead his powerful haunch muscles tightened, and the cat launched toward me quicker than an arrow.

  The animal’s paws flung me flat on the ground as the leopard landed on my chest. Its weight immobilized me. Teeth bared, it knocked my breath from me and took it for its own.

  7

  S hades of gray danced before my eyes as the leopard cut off my breath. As its dank breath wafted around my nose, I knew. It was my time to die.

  But then something exploded above me, crashing through the shrubs with all the power of a tidal wave. I saw a flash of bright sorrel, and I saw the underside of hooves.

  Chiron. He’d found me in the spiritworld. He’d risked his life and the Mother’s to save me.

  His massive body careened into the leopard at my throat, and the beast flew off me, ripping the tender flesh of my neck.

  Still, I lived. I gasped for breath, and my hand scrambled for my dagger even as I registered my bow beneath me, crushed. Finally my world quit spinning, and I stood.

  What I saw horrified me.

  Centaur and leopard rolled over each other in a blur. The leopard’s claws were fully extended, diggi
ng into Chiron’s stomach. The dagger-sharp things had sliced through his skin until pink muscle shone through.

  But Chiron’s powerful hands gripped the cat’s neck, strangling the animal that strangled its prey. The leopard’s breath rasped through its throat. Chiron would soon put an end to it—if the beast didn’t eviscerate him first.

  I stood one leg behind the other. Putting my weight on my back leg, I drew my dagger hand behind my ear. Then I waited.

  I did not want to hit Chiron with this blade. In practice, my aim was good and I hit hard. But I wanted to hit leopard flesh, not centaur.

  I wanted to throw my dagger but couldn’t. Chiron rolled to the top, throttling the leopard beneath him, but then the leopard flipped him over. It didn’t help that blood stained the white cat fur so that it nearly matched Chiron’s chestnut color. I couldn’t tell one from the other.

  Finally I had my chance: a patch of cloud-white along the line of a rib. I threw the blade with all of my might, and it flew true. It hit the beast with a reverberating thud.

  But the leopard didn’t die.

  Chiron flipped the cat onto its back, and it dug its claws further into my beloved’s stomach. He didn’t have much time, but the beast was not dying.

  It hadn’t died before. Why did I think it would collapse now?

  And then I saw the pond. Really saw it. The color wasn’t true—it was too blue. It was the color of polished gems or the summer sky extending across the horizon into the forever.

  It was the Tears of Eternity.

  I jumped into the water, shocked at its chill, which was colder than anything I’d ever felt, but I didn’t care. Cupping my hands, I splashed water at the beast. “Begone Earth Shaker!”

  And the Tears killed the leopard like arrows and blades did not. The white fur regained its amber-and-onyx coloration, and the beast collapsed into a heap beneath Chiron. Not an eyelid flickered.

  And for a heartbeat I thought the Tears had killed Chiron, too.

  He lay unmoving, blood pouring from the wounds along his equine stomach. I looked closer and saw intestine. He would not survive this.