Myth of the Moon Goddess - The Aradia Chronicles, Books One, Two and Three

by Rane, April

  Most of the men had moved on, anxiously in search of a taverna to wash the dust from their mouths. Zantaunt ordered the girls to get down from their horses. As soon as they dismounted Zonoff led the horses away. They stood in front of a low building that had a wide oak door with a wooden beam on it so that it could be locked from the outside. He ordered the girls inside, wielding his knife with an ugly laugh.

  “Shush, it will be all right,” whispered Aradia to the girls. “I have a knife. I will protect you. Let us go inside.”

  As soon as they were all inside, the door slammed. As they hastily gathered around Aradia, she undid the wrap from the knife that she had hidden earlier and began cutting the girls free from their bindings.

  “Let me think,” she said. “I need quiet.”

  The girls gathered themselves a distance away from Aradia, at the far end of the nearly empty room. They had come to respect and honor her in the short time of their captivity, marveling among themselves of her valor, and looking to her now as their only hope.

  Aradia paced the floor for a few moments, pausing now and then to look at them. How they have suffered these young women, she thought, but how much more will they suffer if I do not act decisively.

  When she asked them if Zonoff had been disrespectful of them, none would meet her eyes.

  Not hesitating, Aradia looked out through the small hole in the door. Just as she thought, Zonoff was finished with the horses and it was he that was outside as their guard. Knowing that she must work fast before Zantaunt returned, she motioned to Lattia, choosing her because of her large breasts, moon face, and extra weight.

  “Lie down on the bed,” said Aradia, “and start moaning as if you are in much pain. Go do it now! The rest of you move to the other side of the room!”

  “It is a baby, a baby!” Aradia screamed when all was in place. “Someone come quickly! Something is wrong. She will die!”

  Zonoff could not believe his ears. A baby is coming? He did not know if he cared. But if he let one of the girls die, it might not go well for him when the king’s men came. He hesitantly opened the door, ordering Aradia to step aside and saw that the rest of the girls were huddled on the other side of the room. He went over to Lattia, and seeing her clutching her large belly, he leaned over. Aradia moved behind him as stealthily as a cat, grabbed him and wrapped her left arm around his throat as her right hand forcefully plunged the knife down into his heart. His body contorted with pain and he clutched for the knife as he slithered to the floor.

  “Here, help me get him onto a cot and cover him with a blanket,” she told the others. “I’m going outside to watch for Phesoj. He is helping us. I promise all of you freedom. Do you understand me? You will be free, but you must do as I say. I will stay out of sight until Zantaunt comes back.”

  Anxiously, Aradia searched out the two oldest girls. “Lattia, Tona, I am counting on you both! Keep looking out this hole. When Zantaunt comes back, somehow get him to enter the room. When he does, I will come in from behind, and if I must, I’ll kill him. Do you understand me?”

  Aradia knew this was difficult for Lattia. Taking note of her dazed expression, she had to shake her to get her attention. They have already gone through so much, she thought. Witnessing one of their own commit murders could well push them to the brink of their fragile existence.

  “Lattia,” Aradia spoke soothingly. “You are stronger than you know. You must do this or we will all die. Tona, I am counting on you. You can speak a few words of the Upper Valley. You must not fail! We have one chance.”

  “I want to die!” raged Lattia, sobbing uncontrollably.

  But Tia, who was small and slight, stepped forward and said, “I will do it. Go. Tona and I will make a good team.”

  Outside the room, Aradia hid under the shadowy eaves of the stark buildings. Zantaunt, counting his money in his head no doubt, did not at first see the wooden bolt on the ground. When he did he cautiously opened the heavy door and peeked inside. Tia, with a shaking hand, pointed to the cot, “Zonoff is very sick. He is scaring us. Come help!”

  Dashing out the shadows, Aradia hurled herself at his bulk, knocking him into the room. As all the girls grabbed for him, Aradia moved forward with her knife pulled, but Zantaunt was much stronger than Zonoff; this time it was harder.

  Fighting for his life, Zantaunt pulled his knife and lunged for Aradia. But when Tia kicked him from behind, he lost his balance, giving Aradia the chance to plunge her knife into his throat hitting his jugular, causing blood to gush out with such force that it spattered her and the walls. Feeling queasy, she covered her mouth and pushed away the threatening darkness. Shaking she asked for help to turn him over to make sure he was dead. His eyes agape, his last breath was a noisy rattle. Some of the tension in the room eased.

  “Come,” Aradia spoke, hearing her own voice as if from a distance. “Let us leave here. We need to be careful. Do any of you have anything of value?” Aradia, with a voice raspy from all the effort, spoke barely above a whisper. “I need to get us some clean clothing in the market place. We must blend into the crowd in order to escape.”

  Lattia undid a pin, well hidden deep inside her robe. “My mother gave this to me. It is gold.” She reluctantly handed it to Aradia as fresh tears coursed down her face.

  “Good! This will get us new clothing,” said Aradia, as she hugged Lattia. “Come. Let’s get out of this room.”

  Nearby, Aradia found a deserted alleyway. Whispering and motioning with her hand for them to be quiet, she hissed, “Stay here! Hide behind these barrels. I will be back soon.”

  Cautiously she rounded the corner of the buildings, and peeked out at the busy market place that filled the hard packed dirt street. Spotting a merchant who was selling colorful robes, she vigilantly approached his stall, and removing the pin she had been given from under her robe, showed it to him. His eyes glistening, he bit and tasted it, after which, he told her to take anything she wanted. Aradia’s eyes widened as she pointed to the pouch of water hanging by his side. He hardly had it untied from his shoulder before she was drinking thirstily.

  Later, when the others had drank and washed before donning their new garb, Aradia urged them to braid one another’s hair so that they would blend in with the natives.

  “Good,” she said when they had finished. “Now we are ready. Come. …No wait! I have left the knife. We may need it. I will go back. Go to the end of the alley and mix in with the people on the street. Pretend to look at the wares the vendors are selling. I will catch up with you shortly. It is not safe here in the alley! If we get separated, use my name to get an audience with the king. Go now. … I will join you soon.”

  As the young girls reluctantly walked out into the street, Aradia crept back to the small room where they had been held and found her knife. But before she could slip away, strong arms engulfed her and a man clamped his hand over her mouth.

  “Shhh, it is I, Phesoj! Do not scream. I am not going to hurt you.”

  She nodded her head to let him know she had heard him, and he let her go.

  “I could not get an audience with the king as he is away, nor could I get anyone who would listen to me,” he explained. “I was told to come back in two days. We must make haste and leave here quickly. Soon they will be coming to get you for the sale in the town square. Where are the girls?”

  As they dashed out of the room and down the alleyway she began to tell him of the events, but they were not quick enough. Five men she had never seen before, dressed as those who rode the sea, gave pursuit with knives drawn, cornering Phesoj and Aradia before they could reach the marketplace. Aradia fought like a wild cat, kicking and hacking at them with her knife, while Phesoj wielded his with skill. But it was soon clear that these men did not want to kill her. She hoped that their hesitation would offer a chance to help Phesoj get away.

  Looking over at him, however, she froze. Two men held him as another cut his throat. She staggered backwards, putting her hand over her mouth as a sile
nt scream hung in the air. The men took that opportunity to seize her and quickly tie her up.

  Seeing the brutal murder of her friend drained her of all energy. She thought of the girls and bit her lip until it bled to keep from crying out. She could tell that these men would have no mercy. Horrified as she was, she kept reminding herself that at least the girls were safe. Her mind raced as she thought of how to escape. What would Grandmother do? she wondered.

  When she began to act lobatz, flailing around and talking gibberish, they did not seem to care. One of the men grabbed her hair and laughed. “Made it easy for us, didn’t she?” he roared. “With this red/gold hair and her evil eyes, she stands out like an apple in a fish market.”

  Yes, she thought, her hair was unusual, even in her province where brown or dark red are more common. The comment about her eyes made sense also, as green eyes were thought of as evil in many areas where darker eyes were prevalent. She tried listening again so that she could understand more of what was happening and heard one seaman comment that the other girls must have already gone to the auction block at which her heart began to sing. The girls were free!

  “No loss,” said another. “It was only this one our captain paid for. One of the kitchen maids told the baker that kin to the king was sitting in one of the slave cells and that she has extensive knowledge of the world and many languages to her credit. Our captain knows of a man that will pay highly for her talents.”

  “By Zeus, she is a hellcat! Can’t see why anyone would pay for that!” another cried.

  Zeus? That is the Greek name for Jupiter, the father god, thought Aradia. Becoming more upset, she fought all the harder realizing that they might be taking her to Greece.

  “I hear she speaks the language from the Upper Valley. I wonder what other languages she can speak.”

  “Our tongue maybe,” said one of them, chuckling as he prodded her. “Can you speak to us, miss? All that knowledge in a woman is a bad thing. It makes them crazy.”

  He pointed to his head and snorted with laughter as he shared the joke with his motley group.

  Hanging suspended between two large men, Aradia raised her feet off the ground and kicked the man who had poked her. Hissing and cussing, spitting and pulling, she tried to get free, but the men held on tighter, laughing at the man she had kicked.

  Aradia saw that they were heading for the dock. She had heard of women who had disappeared on ships, never to be heard from again, and fought all the harder. Goddess, help me, she prayed. I cannot go to Greece for it is a place of evil, where men love men and treat women as slaves. Please, she begged the Goddess… I would rather die!

  Suddenly someone pressed a dirty rag, which smelled sickly sweet over her nose. She tried not to inhale but it was overpowering. Coughing, and gasping, Aradia slumped soundlessly to the ground.

  When she became conscious, Aradia could tell from the rolling motion beneath her that she was on a ship. Looking around at her surroundings, she saw that she was in a small room. As her mind cleared, she tried to think of what her grandmother would do. What spells might she use to protect herself? What potions might she use?

  Finding a small earthenware bowl with salt on a weathered table near a chair in the corner, Aradia placed some of it near the door and circled herself with the rest, chanting, “Scongiuro il sale suona notte giorno.”

  Hesitating, for she had not needed this spell before and the words did not come easy, she started again, in a singsong tone using the power of her voice as she had been taught by her grandmother. Speaking the sacred words in the ancient tongue brought back the memories of her childhood and she recalled with a pang that, up until these last few days in her life, she had always felt safe. Aradia threw salt above and beneath herself, and spun around in the circle of salt as she recited the words to the ancient spell over and over. As she spoke the meaning of the words from her heart, it wrenched her very soul. She called out to the spirit world to know her fate.

  “I do conjure thee, salt, lo! Here at night,

  Above me, beneath me, and around me

  I take my place in the order of the world,

  Likewise the moon and stars, your children all

  I yearn to learn the very truth of truths.

  I call upon you Goddess, for you are sooth

  To know my future, what comes my way?

  Earth, air, fire and water, what do you say

  Wilt good or evil come, protect me where I lay.”

  Finally, exhausted, weak from lack of food and water, dazed by the terror she had felt during the past few days and the heartbreak of losing her family, Aradia collapsed in the middle of the sacred circle, and somewhere deep in the blackness a voice spoke.

  “Child, come join me. Rest in my love for a time. You have done well in protecting the young ones. But you are just a child yourself.”

  Feeling compelled to lift her eyes upward, she saw a stunning goddess in a turquoise robe with intricately carved symbols on the cuffs, and embroidered down the front. Her features were fine and her lips formed a perfect bow; her dark olive skin with deep rich blue-black hair set off golden sparks in her sable eyes.

  As the goddess came closer, Aradia noticed that across the expanse of her high cheekbones was a touch of glitter that ran to her temples, splashing her hair with starlight. Her soft curly raven hair was piled loosely on top on her head, and was held with turquoise and diamond combs that sparkled when she moved.

  It was a compelling sight. As her radiant blue/green gown, a color more wondrous than the sea, furled around her, the rich deep hues made Aradia want to crawl inside the magnificent cloak for protection. Golden white light shimmered around the lithe form. The Goddess seemed to transport Aradia to a realm where only light existed. Changing from white to gold, and back to white, the light gave Aradia a feeling of tranquility. That… and the glowing smile the gentle goddess wore was a welcomed blessing after the last few days.

  “You seem familiar somehow,” Aradia murmured. “Do I know you?” As quickly as that thought came in another one followed. “Have you come for me, then? That is good. I am through with this body.”

  “You… finished… with your lust for life?” said the lovely goddess, “You have just begun. You have much yet to accomplish. Your mother, Diana, Goddess of the Moon, has sent you on a mission. It fits well with the journey of your soul that I am to help you with. You are not done with this life yet.”

  “You are not here to take me?” asked Aradia.

  “No, it is not time. You wanted to know if you would encounter good or evil.”

  “Yes, that is so.”

  “What if I told you, that you would encounter only what you need to hasten your spiritual growth, only the things you have called into existence? Would that be so very hard to believe?”

  “Yes.” Aradia answered, “I cannot believe that I would have wanted my family to be butchered, or that I wanted to be held captive on a ship. I hate the water! No, I love the water but I hate ships!”

  “Be very careful of the word hate,” replied the goddess. “It carries with it so much emotion, therefore bringing that very thing into your life. That which you most love and that which you most hate, you call into existence.”

  “What I hate, I bring it into my life?” asked Aradia.

  “Yes, that is so. Are you not curious as to my name?”

  “No. Well perhaps.”

  “My name is Desimena,” she said smiling, “I am a guide to you on your journey as a soul, and will help you on your earthly sojourn. You have chosen this worldly existence; therefore your soul is now expressing itself in a body. Do not be puzzled, my child. We will talk more of your soul at another time.”

  “You mentioned my mother’s name. It is not Diana, yet the name is so familiar. How is that?” asked Aradia.

  “I speak not of the mother you were born to on Earth but of the Goddess of the Moon. I know this is hard to follow, but it is my duty to remind you. When you first came into a body, though it wa
s an etheric body, it was with curiosity and an enormous lust for life. You were born to a great being, Diana, Queen of the Moon. She sent you on a mission, after you had been trained in the art of witchcraft. Your assignment was to come to Earth to help the women who were being abused, beaten and taken as slaves. Your promise was to use the methods you had learned to better the life of all women on Earth. On this life’s journey, you will meet many women needing your help.”

  For a moment the goddess hesitated and it seemed to Aradia that, when she continued, it was with a certain difficulty in phrasing the words.

  “This is the difficult part,” she said. “In order to better understand the pain these women are in, you have chosen as a soul to experience loss and cruelty at the hands of men. This can only happen in the body. So your soul chose the life you now live to give you the experience needed to understand on the human level, degradation and fear. If you hold onto these things alone, you will become bitter and will close yourself off to love, which could cause you to misuse your power. If you hold onto anger, you will use your power for ill.”

  Desimena’s heart wrenched at the pain she knew Aradia was experiencing. Knowing her last words were essential, she leaned in toward Aradia and whispered softly.

  “Your soul cries out to grow. Your soul needs to find a balance between love and power. It will be offered in this life. Will you take it, or push it away?”

  “I feel no power. I only feel anger!”

  “Yes, when you are angry you give your power away,” she was told.

  “You speak in riddles,” cried Aradia. “Why are you here? If it is not to take me, then why have you come?”