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

by Rane, April

  “I think you are incredible! Tell me what the waterfall said.”

  “That everyone comes in on a wave of color, and because of that they need to learn the things that color will teach them. There are different colors, seven I think, because that is how many tiers there were in the waterfall, each with its own shade. If you understand the color, you understand the person. You, for example, are green, which means you would make a better peace maker than a warrior. Though I suppose anyone would know that,” she added, teasing. “After all you tend not to kill your enemies but make love to them!”

  “What color are you?” he asked, his eyes glowing with merriment.

  “My color is yellow, though I keep wishing it was gold. It means that I am to learn strength, and leadership, also integrity…. Perhaps I just need to accept help from my guide, even if I am still a bit angry at her. She could answer many questions about the colors I think. Let’s go back now. It’s getting dark,” she said, squeezing his hand.

  The next day, when they lay by the river throwing pebbles into the depths, and watching the waves of ringlets as they moved out from the center, the prince reached for her and brushed his finger gently over her lips.

  “Do not say the thing you have come here to say,” he said, wetting his index finger and tracing her lips, then lazily running his hand down her bodice. “I cannot bear it. Besides, there is nobody I want save you, no life I want that does not have you in it. There is no reason for my heart to beat unless it beats for you.”

  As they merged together softly, silently treasuring each caress, he buried his face in her hair and then moved down to her breast. She broke the silence with a sound of such pain, that he covered her body and drank in all her energy so as to take the pain away. Giving herself over to him, she could not imagine such sweet pleasure and deep pain coming together, touching them, playing with them, haunting them. She thought that his love was so much more important to her than being queen. And yet she also knew that she must tell him to go back to his people. How could she do it? She prayed to the goddess to give her strength.

  He looked deeply into her eyes, dark eyes with sharp pin drops of light shining up at him. The pureness of her love radiated, and vibrated still, though the height of their love-making had abated. It was as if he could still feel the orgasmic waves moving over him, stoking the fire in his heart even though, at present, the fire in his loins was calm. He laid his head upon her belly, and she stroked his hair. Each felt a peace that defied words, and they both knew that it would move them toward each other, lifetime after lifetime, seeking the completeness that no other lover could ever offer.

  At the river they swam, laughed and made love for a long time. Lying side by side he stroked her shoulders, massaging her sweet curves as he sensuously moved over her back to her buttocks and thighs. He continued down her calves to her feet. Bending her leg at the knee, he took her foot in his hand and he massaged deeply as she sighed in pleasure.

  “I have noticed that the people around us smile and laugh more when they are near us,” he said. “They are participating in the cocoon of our love. I have also observed there is no measure of time when we are together, yet I know that time is not my friend.”

  Stryangaeus was contemplative as he spoke the next words.

  “I have allowed myself to suspend thoughts of time, but I have been noticing that it seems to be collapsing in on us.

  Wanting to hold on to time, he turned her over, fervently kissing her feet and with his tongue, he traced her high arch and moved to the ankle. Enticingly using his tongue he lingered on her thighs and leisurely moved to her mound.

  “I taste my seed and I taste your wetness,” he murmured. “Each excites me, because you have opened your body to me, opened your passion, which in turn draws forth seed from my body and becomes part of you.” His hungry mouth pressed against her mound and his tongue teased her till she could no longer stand the pleasure and begged him to enter her.

  “No, I will enter you when I taste your new pleasure of me.” He placed his tongue over her womanhood and soon felt hot liquid fire coming from her depths. He entered her, moaning as he felt the heat and instantly exploded, calling out her name.

  The next day, she woke him at the first hint of daybreak.

  “There are no down feathers that can take the place of your belly,” he said sadly, raising his head from his pillow.

  “You know what we must do,” she said, her eyes downcast. “I’ll not have it on me that you deserted your good wife and gave your future kingship away. I know that you are willing. You honor me by that willingness. Yet, it is because of honor and duty that I must decline. I asked you once before to go, and never turn back. I had such strength until I saw you again. Much has happened because I was weak. Yet I cannot say that I am sorry for the time we have had. It will carry me through a lifetime of duty and an empty bed. Take leave of me now. Make this new day the one that will allow destiny to take its course.”

  He could not look at her for fear that he would weaken. Once dressed and at the door, he bowed deeply.

  “My queen,” he said, “My body takes leave of you. My heart never will.”

  Two hooded figures lurked in the hallway but the prince did not notice as he walked heavily back to his quarters. Once there, he slept fitfully until the serving girl knocked on his door to offer a meal. Declining, he went to the chair next to the window and stared out with empty eyes. Dusk stole the light quickly, reminding him of how black his world would be without Czarinaea. After a time, he decided to send for the livery boy to ready his horse for the journey home. Perhaps the blackness of the night would swallow him up and he would not have to live out his days without her.

  As he rose up out of the chair, the heaviness in his chest became a crushing pain. It was as if his heart was in the jaws of a large and vicious animal. He stood still to catch his breath, waiting for the pain to abate, but instead it became so intense that he dropped to his knees. He clutched his heart and thought, it does not want to continue beating without you……my queen.

  The two men that had been following him earlier, listened at the door, and hearing nothing, slowly entered, both with drawn knives. The prince’s body was lying on the floor, his hands pressed to his heart, a smile upon his face.

  “Someone has beaten us to it,” one of them cried.

  “There are no wounds,” the other said, bending over the body.

  “Then we must take advantage of the circumstances,” the first spy said. “Find a quill and some of his parchment paper.”

  “Here are the writing tools.” Snickering, the taller of the two handed what he had found to the other. “How have you learned the skills of writing? No one from our clan knows the skill.”

  “You fool, it is not I t`will put my hand to it, but the councilman that paid us for the job. He learned from his travels, and keeps it secret. We will be paid double when I tell him of my plan. “Wait here, and let no one in… no one. Do you hear me?”

  Pleased with himself, he scurried out of the room as fast as his short legs would carry him, counting the extra coins in his mind. He was sure that the councilman Kaeus would give him a full pardon for his crimes and extra in the boot. What luck he thought.

  While the companion he had left behind waited for his return, someone called through the door, “Your friend awaits you. Come, I will take you to him. You have done well. There will be extra coin for you. There is no time to waste, hurry!”

  As soon as he had left the body, a dark figure quietly opened the door to the room where the prince lay, and dropped a small empty vial on the floor, after which he tucked a note into the cool, still hand of the prince.

  The next day, the mid-wife went to check on Czarinaea, for they had become very close. Czarinaea loved the motherly fashion in which she was treated by this wise and unusual woman. She missed Lotzar and every time she thought of the loss, it caused her to stop breathing. It helped that she had the loving attention of this woman she trusted
completely, and her nurturing ways had made her think of sending for her mother; for it was time that she healed the harsh words she had spoken. Though it had been just short of three full cycles of the sun, it seemed like an eternity.

  Upon leaving after their visit the mid-wife asked, “Is there anything more that I can do?” “Will you check on Stryangaeus?” Czarinaea asked her. “We have said our goodbyes, and I know that he will abide by my wishes. I have steeled myself from all feeling, for that is the only way I can do what is right for my people. Yet this past eve my dreams were of hooded figures and intrigue. The intrigue seemed to be against me. But though I hardened myself for the task ahead my heart pained me, physically hurt. Then the pain abruptly stopped, and now my heart feels like lead.”

  A short time later the mid-wife entered without knocking. She looked distraught and had a note in her hand. “I will have a private audience with the queen,” she said, pushing the councilman who had followed her out the door.

  “What has upset you so?” asked the queen.

  “Please sit down Czarinaea. Czarinaea did as she was bid and the mid-wife handed her the note. “Here, read this. And tell me. Is this the handwriting of Stryangaeus?”

  “I do not know!” Czarinaea said, shaken. “I have never seen his words on parchment. The Scythians as well my clan do not have the ability of writing, though some of the Medes do. Can you read it to me?”

  After the note was read by Diana, Czarinaea was stunned. As all color left her face she said, “Stryangaeus is dead? That cannot be.”

  Diana sat quietly letting her absorb the news. The deathly silence in the room she knew was an indication of the void he left in Czarinaea’s heart. When the queen spoke, ice coated her words.

  “His note accused me of murdering my husband, mocking his affections, and ruining his life? He wrote that his death is on my hands. It cannot be so!”

  Insisting that the note be read again she furiously wiped at the evidence of her tears. It did not make sense to her. Her full lips drew tightly across her face, rage seething just beneath the surface. If he were to write her a note she was sure it would have begun, My Queen, but this note was simply addressed to Czarinaea.

  “Never would he have written that! Never! How is it that the hound Kaeus was at your heels when you entered?” she cried angrily as she jumped to her feet knocking the chair over. “Did he see this note?”

  “Yes, he did. I went to the door of Prince Stryangaeus as you asked. I knocked but got no reply. When I felt a cold shiver run down my back I knew something was amiss. I decided to enter, and just as I did Kaeus came out of nowhere and entered, saying he had business with the prince. We found the prince on the floor and he read the note over my shoulder, I’m afraid, and found an empty vial on the floor! Something is amiss for sure. My feelings tell me this is all wrong. Czarinaea, you know him well. Would he take his own life?”

  All her fury, rage and pain closed in on her, and as his death became a reality she blindly reached for the table in front of her. A deep blackness drenched her words as they were pulled from the depths of her being.

  “He was a warrior and one of the bravest men I have ever met. He did not feel he had much to live for, yet…”

  Unrestrained tears ran freely down her face, dampening the note and blurring the evil lies.

  “Yes, I know him,” Czarinaea said with conviction, “and I know he would never hurt me! That is why I am certain he did not write this. They have killed him to get back at me. The councilmen Kaeus wants Apothuse the warrior to have the throne. For power they would indeed kill! But then to insult the good name of Stryangaeus in this way…

  “Take me to him. I must see Stryangaeus… now!”

  “But, my Queen, you are not yet healed,” Diana said, taking her hands. “This could set you back!”

  “This has set me as far back as there is,” the queen said, pulling away from her. “Death would be welcomed, because life holds no meaning. I knew I was not fair to him, telling him to leave. But there was no other way. I knew that I had to be content to hold on to the memory of him. Knowing that he walked the earth, knowing he breathed, laughed, and sang… that gave me pleasure. Now what will there be? Take me to him, I need to…”

  She swayed as she stepped forward and the mid-wife grabbed her elbow to steady her. But when they reached the room where the body lay, Czarinaea indicated that she wished to go inside alone, and that Diana should stand guard so that she was not interrupted.

  Finding his body lying on the bed, she lay down beside him and covered them both with the rich wool blanket. Then, speaking in a soft voice, she began to tell him the story of how they had first met, including every detail she could remember, when she first opened her eyes, his voice, the songs he sang to her. After more than an hour she began to sing, softly crooning the songs he had taught her until, realizing that she had never sung to him while he lived and now he would never hear her sing, she rose and made her way to the door, her heart imprisoned in hate.

  “I will have years to mourn him,” she told Diana as she exited the room, “but for now I will see to the men who killed him. I will call a meeting today and we will see! If Kaeus and Apothuse killed Stryangaeus they will meet me in the orbeus. There we will settle this. There is no way to lose for me, for losing means I join my lover.”

  Two young girls sat on a stone fence at the edge of the city, enjoying the magnificent day.

  “All of the city is talking about it!” said the older girl, feeling worldly speaking on such matters. “He killed himself for love of her.”

  “But I heard that she called out the councilman that found his body and challenged him and another councilman to meet her in the orbeus, saying they were responsible for prince Stryangaeus’s death! Can you imagine such goings on?” declared the younger of the two as she shook her head.

  “I can imagine! The nobles have such pride.” declared the older one with an air of authority.

  “Do you know what happened at the orbeus? Did they take her challenge?”

  “No, it is closed to us. It is for warriors alone to settle disagreements with each other. I’ve heard two stories though, and one is rather strange.”

  “Oh! Tell me that one first!” her friend begged her.

  “It was told to me,” she whispered, “that the queen called a meeting, but the councilmen swore, on the lives of their families, that they did not kill Stryangaeus. Sitting opposite them in the center of the meeting room, her eyes fixed on a point over their heads, she questioned them. My mother got the story from a friend who said it was very eerie. This friend of my mother, he works at the big house and knows all the councilmen by name. He said when the queen was through asking the questions, she claimed that they were guilty, but she did not think they were guilty of actually killing the prince. Then she left the room, saying that she did not want their blood on her hands, and told the councilmen they could deal with it how they chose.”

  “But what did they choose?”

  “Kaeus and Apothuse begged to be judged by the warriors. They claimed that they were only interested in protecting the people from the enemy, and were just keeping an eye on Stryangaeus. Tis rumored that the warriors voted to send them away with no horse or weapon to defend them, but no one seems to know for certain.

  “But what is the other story?”

  “That she fought both of them in the orbeus…at the same time, killing them dead!”

  “Noooo….do you think that true?” squealed the young girl, “and then what?”

  “Because it is closed to all but the council, no one knows for sure…”

  “Couldn’t the queen just have had their heads,” interrupted the young girl, “if she believed they had anything to do with her lover being killed?”

  “That’s so… she could have. But she is, they say, determined to be fair in all cases, and no one knows for certain who killed him. Besides, it’s so much more romantic to think he killed himself for her. After all, if he was such
a good warrior how would they get close enough to kill him?”

  “That’s right, Tis so. Anyway, the songs say he killed himself for love. And surely the bards know, for they know everything!”

  And with that romantic notion, both girls sighed.

  Silence was not a good sign and Czarinaea had heard nothing from the Medes, even though it had been weeks since she had sent the body of the prince back to his people, accompanied by a messenger that would relay the information that the prince had died of natural causes, and that she and all her people morn his loss. And so, when no response came back with the messenger, Czarinaea, knowing that there would be some response sooner or later, took the precautionary measure of doubling the guard.

  Czarinaea strolled in the walled garden, thinking wistfully of her lover as she looked up at the full moon. When her hand strayed to the emerald on her neck, a vision in which she saw herself with her sister, Myrina, took her breath away. She could hear herself saying “He will ne’re love again… and he will kill himself for he cannot have me.”

  But she knew that if she gave herself over to these thoughts, she could not do her duty, and she was having a hard enough time just getting from one day to the next. Turning to leave the garden, she found Diana watching her.

  “Queen, may I be so bold as to address you, to speak on matters until this moment not yet attended,” the midwife asked her.

  “Of course,” Czarinaea replied, “for you have proved yourself to have my concerns at heart.”

  “Tis true more than you know.” Clearing her throat, Diana chose her words very carefully. “I am in your debt for I have enjoyed the graces of your home, though I am no longer needed here.”

  The queen laughed. “If you need to start out thanking me in such a manner as you have never worn before, mayhap I should rescind your permission to speak.”