by Loki Renard
CLOCKWORK GODDESS
by Loki Renard
(Chronicles of Lesbia)
http://sapphosbrats.com
Cover art by ValentinaPhotos, BigstockPhoto.com
All Rights Reserved.
Copyright Loki Renard 2015.
Chapter One
Heat from flames made ends of golden hair streaked with lighter strands of gray turn up into tight little fizzing coils. The forest witch sat before the hearth as she had so very many times before and dropped chopped herbs into a potionous blend which bubbled and churned with pleasing vigor. The witch's robes were in a similarly relaxed state to that of her hair, parted almost to the navel and revealing ample bosom as they did. The witch had lived more years than any other in Lesbia, but one would not have known it to look at her. She was as seductive as she was kind, and as dangerous to those who might cross her as she was skilled in the arts of magic.
A heavy handed knock at the door heralded the arrival of an old friend. A friend so old that once she had knocked, she wasted no time in coming in. The door creaked open, and the many hundreds of days which had passed between that moment and their last meeting seemed to fade in an instant.
"Ayla," Kira said, stepping sideways through the door which was far too narrow to allow her armored shoulders to pass through squarely. "It is I."
"It is you," Ayla agreed, dusting her hands from the fire and rising with a warm smile. Her beautiful, wise face lit up with pleasure as she greeted her guest, a warrior of such consummate skill and fame that the great goddess Ariadne had blessed her with something close to eternal life. Though she was a hundred years old, Kira stood with the same strong stature she had seventy years prior, her long limbs retaining every bit of their power. Her face had likewise remained handsome, dark brown eyes set somewhat narrowly in tanned skin which crinkled at the corners as she smiled.
"I have something for you," the warrior declared. "I warn you, it is most vexing."
"Oh yes?"
"I have been putting together a group of sorts," Kira said vaguely, beginning the explanation of the vexing thing...
"You have been creating an army," Ayla corrected her dryly. "It is the talk of Lesbia."
"Just a small one," Kira said, pinching thumb and forefinger together. "Just a little smidge of an army. An armlette, you might say."
Ayla crossed her arms under her ample, barely clad bosom and lifted a brow in Kira's direction. The expression on her witchly face strongly indicated that the warrior's attempts to play down her role in what was starting to look like all out civil war were not convincing.
"I have the goddess on my side," Kira finally said. "All will be well."
"Having Ariadne on your side is like keeping an nest of adders in your undergarments," Ayla said. "A formidable ally, yes, but far too close for comfort."
"Ariadne would not like to hear you speak that way."
Ayla's shoulders moved in a very slight, almost imperceptible shrug, a motion which imparted a complete and utter lack of caring on her part.
"Anyway," Kira said, scratching her nose though it did not itch, "I met a someone on my travels, a somebody, if you will..."
"It's not like you to be coy," Ayla interjected once more.
"She proved to be quite unsuitable for my purposes," Kira said, "but I thought she might suit yours." Extending an arm out the still open door, Kira invited Ayla to look.
A nearly naked woman was bound up by the bushes, hair the color of bracken falling to her shoulders and completely failing to obscure her neat round breasts which bounced and jigged with every annoyed motion she made. She was wearing a scrap of a loincloth which did nothing to cover the rounds of her bottom, which were very ample indeed. Other than that, she appeared to have been well fed. It was impossible to tell if she was pretty or not, for her face was contorted in an expression of extreme annoyance.
"Why does she not suit your purposes? She seems sturdy enough."
"Every time she has the opportunity, she removes her clothing. It is distracting to the others."
"Distracting," Ayla murmured. "Yes, I imagine it would be."
"There's another one too," Kira said. "Where did she go?"
The other one was standing by a tree, arms folded over her chest. She was a plain young woman wearing a very unflattering dress and an expression which strongly indicated that she was not impressed by Kira, nor Ayla, nor the naked bound woman. Her bad attitude was a palpable force which permeated the very air itself. Kira said nothing about the 'other' one. She did not need to.
"Is there a sign above my door which says "insubordinate brat storage?" Ayla made the inquiry gently.
"There is not," Kira said. "But these two, have seen things they should not have seen. I cannot send them back to their families knowing what they know. They would be at risk. Lives would be at stake."
"So you bring them to me in the hopes that I will babysit them until you're done waging war with the queen?"
Kira's expression brightened. "I knew you'd understand."
Kira made her apologies and took her leave quite quickly. Time was of the essence. War was at hand. There were things to do. Judging by the speed at which she mounted her waiting steed and rode away, the first of those things was to get as far away from the two she had left at Ayla's cottage as possible.
Sighing to herself, Ayla did the bound woman the honor of untying her. "What is your name?"
"I am Moon Stargaze," the naked woman declared, stretching her limbs. "I dance with the trees and I float on the breeze and I partake of herbs of all kinds."
Ayla nodded, absorbing the information as she lifted her eyes to her other guest. "And you? What is your name?"
"They call me Vix," the other woman replied. "Because I vix things."
There was something curious about Vix, a certain seriousness which was uncommon in those who came to Ayla's door. Together, the women made a strange pairing. One clearly objected to wearing clothes, the other wore clothing but paid less attention to it than the one who would not wear it. The dress Vix wore was made for a woman at least twice her size and hung loosely over her breasts. Her hips were in there somewhere, probably. It was hard to tell, for the sweeping hem of the dress obscured her body all the way to her toes.
"What did you do before you were recruited, Vex?"
"I was a hengineer," Vix said proudly. "I made mechanical chickens. I was studying to become a civil hengineer."
"To make mechanical chickens for cities?
"No," Vix frowned. "To make the mechanical chickens more polite."
Ayla gave Vix a questioningly dour look. Vix looked back at her, her expression unchanging and serious. Mechanical chickens were no joking matter, so it seemed.
"I was a herbalist," Moon said, stretching her arms out so that her breasts were pressed high to the sky. She arched her back and stretched one leg out, pointing her toes as she gracefully performed a slow backwards handstand which displayed every part of her body. It was quite an enchanting sight, for her womanhood was bounded by soft golden down and moved ever so prettily as she rolled herself back up and around to a standing position
"So I have a herbalist and a hengineer at my home," Ayla murmured, recovering some of her composure. "Won't you come inside?"
"I do not care for inside," Moon replied. "I like outside. Outside where the sky is wide."
"I will not come inside either," Vix said. "I will return home and tend my flock."
"You are still soldiers in Kira's armlette," Ayla reminded them. "And she has left you here, under my command."
Vix and Moon exchanged glances. "You are technically correct," Vix conceded, "which is the best kind of
correct."
"I like your aura," Moon said. "It shimmers. How did you get it to do that?"
"I can't imagine," Ayla said, opening the door and ushering her guests inside.
Once indoors, the women took seats at Ayla's table. They looked at one another with a certain amount of significance, seeming to share some similar thought.
"I'm afraid I wasn't prepared for guests," Ayla apologized. "But there are beds in the other room, and I can prepare some soup if you are hungry."
The offer of soup was met with a positive response. Whilst Ayla prepared the meal, Vix sat at the table and began whittling a little wheel resplendent with triangular cogs from materials carried in the pockets of her voluminous dress.
"What are you making?"
"The soul of a mechanical chicken," Vix said, "the inner cogs and wheels, the clockwork of creation."
"Mhm," Ayla said. "And what role did your clockwork chickens play in Kira's little army?"
"I did not make chickens for Kira," Vix said, raising dark ominous eyes up to Ayla. "Kira wanted something bigger."
"Something much bigger," Moon giggled under her breath, hiding her smile but not much else of her anatomy. She was blessed with a beauteous body, well kept by the frequent ingestion of herbs to the exclusion of most anything else. Though Ayla maintained a respectful demeanor, it was impossible not to notice the curve of her breasts, the smooth line of her stomach, the way her abdominal muscle narrowed as it made its way down toward the short scrap of fabric which preserved the vestiges of her modesty.
It seemed to Ayla that there was some secret between the two women, a shared knowledge which they were not inclined to pass on. Their frequent glances and occasional smiles told her that much. They were up to something, as was Kira, as was Ariadne, as was the queen all the way up in her Clitera City castle. Lesbia was full of women doing things they shouldn't.
The soup was soon ready. Ayla served it to her guests and returned to her seat by the fire. She was in a pensive mood. Yet again the world was calling her to do her duty. She would have preferred to have been left out of this latest conflict, for one conflict was very much like another and she had seen enough to last a lifetime.
Vix and Moon ate whilst still having a silent conversation with their eyes. There was a heaviness in the air, the weight of serious concerns as yet unaired.
"Do you have my pipe?" Moon asked the question.
Vix did have her pipe. She produced a long wooden pipe from the folds of her dress along with a bag of herbs and handed both to Moon. Moon packed the pipe with a practiced touch and offered it to Ayla.
"Would you like to go first?"
"What is it?"
"Forest weed," Moon said apologetically, "hard to get the good stuff these days. There's a war on."
Ayla would normally have refused the pipe, but an instinctive impulse drove her to accept. She took the pipe from Moon, lit the herbs and began drawing on the stem. Rich, floral scented smoke filled her mouth and thence her lungs, bringing with it a sense of calm. It was pleasant to sit and smoke, even though she did so with strangers bearing secrets. After a few puffs, she passed the pipe to Moon, who likewise took several draws, then handed it to Vix, who also drew deeply on the pipe.
"You live alone," Vix said, her dark eyes locking on Ayla as smoke curled languidly out her nostrils.
Though Vix was not possessed of traditional beauty, Ayla was already beginning to see her in a different light. Her nose was long, but strong, her eyes were full of intelligence and though her brows were bushy and her face a little too long and narrow, her chin too pointed, there was a strength of character in it. Her cheekbones were quite high, and perhaps with the right application of rouges and powders she might have appealed more to the eye, but it was apparent that Vix was not interested in appealing to the eye.
"I do," Ayla said.
"It is difficult to live alone, unless one very much likes her solitude. In which case, we must have invaded it."
"You are welcome," Ayla reassured her guest with a soft smile. "Anyone important to Kira is important to me."
Again Moon and Vix exchanged looks. Ayla could not fathom what was so significant, but she imagined it would come to light soon enough. It was bubbling so close to the surface she could almost taste it.
"You are Kira's friend?" Moon asked the question.
"I have been her friend, her mentor, her healer for many years," Ayla replied.
"So you find her a pleasant character?"
"Pleasant?" Ayla's cheeks dimpled and hollowed as her smile became enigmatic. "Pleasant has never been a word to describe Kira. Brave, bold, loyal..."
"... dangerous?" Vix suggested the word as she passed the pipe back to Ayla.
Ayla drew deeply on the stem, enjoying the blend. It had a mild sedative effect, not enough to make her drowsy, but enough to take the edge off her concern.
"Dangerous? Of course. What is it you want to tell me?"
Vix and Moon exchanged looks. "We are not allowed to tell," Moon said. "We are sworn to secrecy. If we so much as speak a word, Ariadne will have our tongues for a necklace."
"We cannot say a word," Vix echoed. "But we could show you."
"The camp is not all that far," Moon agreed. "A week's travel by foot."
Their expectant, hopeful and concerned looks settled on Ayla. She had seen that look before, it was a look that was only given when someone was desperately in need of help. Taking another puff of the pipe, Ayla considered her options.
Crossing a goddess was not a good idea. Crossing Ariadne in particular was a terrible idea. Once upon a time, Ayla would not have considered it for a moment. Once upon a time she had something to lose. Now she did not. She was alone in the world. That solitude came with a queer freedom, one which bought with it a form of recklessness quite foreign to her nature. Truth be told, she had made her decision more or less the moment Vix made her suggestion.
She looked up, her eyes glinting through the drifting smoke haze. "I will need some time to pack my things."
Chapter Two
"We have the witch on our side." Moon sat in bed next to Vix and elbowed her friend. Ayla's packing was taking an inordinate amount of time. Indeed, according to the witch, she would not be done packing for a full three days. Vix had received the news gratefully. It meant that she might have three days without danger or conflict. Three days respite from the war which raged hither and thither throughout Lesbia.
She nodded in acknowledgment of Moon's words. They did have the witch. Ayla was not what or who she had expected. A twisted angry crone, Ayla was not. The woman was beautiful, sensual, mature... and a dozen more adjectives all of which served to tantalize and excite.
"She's pretty," Moon observed out loud.
Vix made a non-committal grunt.
"Are you going to pretend you don't notice? I tell you what," she said, happily holding both sides of their conversation. "I'll take Kira. You can have Ayla."
Vix made no reply, her agile fingers focused on her whittling. She was so adept at it that nary a wood shaving fell into the bed. Moon was being quite ridiculous. Kira was not interested in either of them, and Ayla would likely not be interested either. Beings like Kira and Ayla were so far above lowly mortals like she and Moon that the idea of them taking more than a passing interest was ludicrous. Might as well hope a star might come down from the heavens and inquire as to how one's day had been.
"We should sleep," she said abruptly, putting her knife aside for the evening. "That is the place for your wild dreams."
*****
The next morning, Vix sat outside the witch's cottage, whittling cogs and wheels as usual. The activity soothed her nerves, which were engaging in a very unpleasant near constant jangling. She was not a woman of war and she did not relish the constant danger she had been compelled to live with over the past months.
"Your talents are impressive." Ayla's resonant voice made the marrow in Vix's bones tingle. How long the witch had been watching
, Vix did not know.
"Thank you," Vix said stiffly. She kept her eyes on her work, refusing to look at the witch. It was not proper to look at such an illustrious creature.
A hand on her shoulder made it impossible to ignore Ayla.
"Do you fear me?"
Vix raised her eyes about as far as Ayla's bosom. "Of course."
"Please, do not."
It was not so easily done as said. The witch crackled with power, the air around her was charged with an energy Vix would have loved to harness if such a feat were possible. Fear was the proper reaction when encountering someone so far beyond the realm of the mundane. Vix was not a believer in magic, but she was a strong believer in power. Ayla wielded a great deal of it. Though she lived a simple life far from others, she was one of the most important people in Lesbia.