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

by Rane, April

  Clearly seeing the slaves as no threat, Mareus interrupted his brother to ask if they had eaten, and when they told him that they had not, he ordered the guards to untie them and have someone see to it that they were fed, and bathed!

  The two brothers, glad to be away from the overwhelming stench wafting off of the slaves, knew they must seek out the queen to put a stop to the insanity of the challenge.

  “On the contrary, it is not only my duty,” said Czarinaea addressing the council the next morning, “but I could not remain your queen with good conscience if I did not accept his challenge,” adding as she smiled at a mighty warrior in the back of the room, “I am most honored that you would offer to fight in my stead, I know of the bounties you have brought to our court, but I must decline. Of course we, all of us, will try and dissuade The Slayer from his folly, but…”

  The din that accompanied her announcement was so deafening that she put her hand up to stem the deluge of voices raised in opposition, and the volume slowly decreased until at last she could speak.

  “Gentlemen the rules of the royal house are clear,” she told them. “It is up to the leader to answer the call and I have done so! What then is all the dissension?”

  “Dearest Queen, you must allow someone fight in your stead. We cannot do without you,” said Mareus, his eyes reflected the fear that was being felt by every man in the room, though his voice held nothing but loyalty.

  “I have told you in the past to address me as Czarinaea. I have not held my office over your heads. But in this instance I do. At sunrise tomorrow you, Mareus, along with your brother and the rest of the council will announce to… have we learned his name?”

  “Ceilapeus the Slayer,” answered Vareus.

  “Well then,” Czarinaea continued, “it will be announced to Ceilapeus…the Slayer unless someone can talk him into rescinding and apologizing, that the time is noon, three days hence, the place is in the arena, and the weapons will be chosen just before the challenge begins.”

  “My Queen, you mustn’t do this…” pleaded Mareus, his words faltering as Czarinaea strode purposefully from the room, telling one of the guards to send a stable boy for her horse.

  Noon on the dreaded day arrived. The blazingly bright sun was not co-operating with Mareus’s black mood. Neither the council nor Czarinaea’s house staff had seen much of her, and as she approached the crowded arena, sound receded.

  As Ceilapeus lumbered toward the center of the ring, the guards that had been sent to retrieve him were having a hard time keeping up with his long stride.

  “Choose your weapons,” he barked at the queen, his cavernous mouth an open pit of decay.

  “I choose Lightning,” said Czarinaea.

  Dismayed and confused voices drifted from the crowd, but as a stable boy led a huge armored Arabian stallion into the ring, the crowd opened a wider circle to allow room for the animal.

  “No one said anything about horses!” shouted Ceilapeus, “everyone knows a battle of this nature should be on the ground.”

  “I am an Emetchi” she told him. “My horse is my weapon. You, sir, may have your pick of the stable, ride your own horse or stay afoot, but shall we get on with it.”

  Glaring at her, he shrugged and went toward the stable for his horse. Upon returning Ceilapeus vehemently complained about his horse not being a weapon and he was stoically told by Czarinaea that he could ride if he wished and he could choose an additional weapon. Mareus then began to explain the rules and showed them to opposite sides of the large arena.

  Ceilapeus sheathed his long sword and clutched a barbarous looking chained club as he clumsily climbed on his dappled steed. As he settled in, one of the slaves that had come into the encampment with him handed him a battle worn shield and the short sword he had requested, which he put in his belt. When the slave offered words to the Slayer, he spit and kicked at the man, nearly running him over with his mount as he took his place on the south side of the ring.

  Reaching behind her back to check on her dagger, Czarinaea declared it as her second weapon. Mareus handed her a shield and the sword she normally used in battle, acknowledging it as her third implement, she gracefully grabbed her horse’s mane and slipped comfortably astride.

  A stag horn alerted the challengers to rush toward one another, hoofs rending the air as dust rose from the parched ground blurring the field as the opponents flew at each other with cries of battle on their lips.

  An evil smile crossed The Slayers gaping mouth as he powerfully swung the barbed club above his head and aimed at Czarinaea as she charged by him, missing her only because she had disappeared from her steed. In total confusion he reigned in his mare and looking back over his shoulder a booted foot struck him squarely in the face, nearly unseating him. Then, not much more than a blur, Czarinaea flew past him standing backwards atop her stallion.

  Wiping blood and bits of blackened teeth from his mouth and nose, his eyes widened as he watched the queen back-flip, and landing astride she suddenly reigned in her animal and as the stallion pawed the air, Czarinaea unsheathed her sword and headed directly for him.

  Putting up his shield too late, he sustained a deep wound to his side. Losing sight of her for a moment he was thrown from his horse by the force of her weight as she flew through the air hitting him and wrapping her legs around his throat, they tumbled to the ground.

  Raising her sword above him with both hands on the hilt, she cried, “Hippa, hippa” and, brought the sword slowly toward his neck, just short of running him through she held the sword aloft.

  The onlookers cheered wildly, some shouting, “Kill him! Kill him!”

  Dazed, blood clouding his eyes, the Slayer demanded, “You claim to be a warrior! Finish me! Otherwise you are just a cowardly woman!”

  Czarinaea pushed herself away from his bulk, rising with care and contemplating his words. A vision threatened, and for a moment she just leaned on her sword. But as the crowd sang her praises, she slowly walked toward her stallion and began to check him for wounds.

  “Czarinaea, behind you!” shouted a chorus of voices.

  Crouching while instinctively reaching for her dagger, she threw it, hitting Ceilapeus directly between the eyes. He died, hate written on his face and clutching his hidden dagger in his hand.

  Dazed she slowly retraced her steps back to where he lay. Knowing what was expected of her she lifted his head from the dirt, the vision that had threatened earlier blackening her sight; she reached blindly extricating her dagger from his forehead. Standing, one booted foot on his chest holding the dagger high for the onlookers to see, her other hand extended outward to quiet the pandemonium.

  “I am a Scythian by choice,” she said. “Taking his head, though it is your custom –is not mine! But that is not the issue at this time. His body will remain intact. It will be sent back to his people with another declaration of peace! I will not let this misguided man ruin what we have worked so hard for.

  “The Medes will be told that he died a warrior,” she continued, “with the belief that he needed to defend his prince’s name. But that his prince needed no defense, for a crime had not taken place… simply the untimely death of a man who will forever be a prince in the eyes of his friends as well as his enemies!”

  “Hail Czarinaea, Queen of Peace! Czar-rin-nee-a! Czar-rin-nee-a!” cried the onlookers.

  “Czarinaea, are you all right?” Mareus asked as he rushed to her side. Leaning on him, her color turned ashen as the vision took hold.

  A heavy bearded man was on top of her, his breath was noxious enough that it could have ignited a torch and his clothing reeked of urine and salt air. She was aware of hard wooden planks and a rocking motion under her body, as if she were on a ship. It was clear that this man had every intention of raping her. When he was in the act of pulling down his britches, she chanted magic words, and a wraith-like spirit appeared that frightened him beyond words. Pushing himself off of her, he screamed and began to run about blindly, trying to escape
the frightening creature that pursued him, he flung himself overboard.

  “I have been injured,” she said quietly to Mareus, unable to shake off the vision, “it is my shoulder. Make no mention of it. Walk with me to my quarters. We shall see what’s to be done.”

  As they walked side by side, the crowd congratulated her and Czarinaea tried not to wince as the lively well-wishers clapped her on the shoulder. Going back to her room seemed to be at a snail’s pace and the images in her mind were unrelenting.

  Crouching in a dark hole, hearing vermin scurry around her, she whispered to a young man who she knew to be a cabin boy, “We will never speak of this,” and he solemnly agreed before rushing up a darkened ladder and closing down a hatch. Bleak darkness surrounded her…

  Darkness threatened as Vareus held her down and Mareus pulled her arm up and pushed it back into its socket.

  “You offered Ceilapeus his life this time, where-as in another life you were responsible for his death,” said her spirit guide, “You have balanced your karma with him, but his karma remains with him for another lifetime.”

  “Mareus,” she said, in an attempt to distance the vision and yet understand it, “do you believe you have lived before?”

  “My Queen, of what do you speak?” asked Mareus seeking out his brothers eye as he said to him, “call one of the house servants, Czarinaea needs help to undress, and some rest perhaps.”

  “No. No, I am not delirious,” she spoke sharply, “I…Vareus….leave us please. And do not call a servant! It is not a woman I need, but a strong drink,” and reaching for the hand of Mareus, she said, “and a good friend.”

  Once Vareus left, the friends put their heads together and spoke for hours on past lives, spirit guides and friendship.

  Finally a messenger came from the Medes thanking the Scythians for sending both the prince and Ceilapeus back to them. The honorable Mede king said he would accept the offer of a statue depicting Prince Stryangaeus, and he set the wedding date between the Scythians and the Medes to take place in six moons. It was a relief to all of the council and warriors when the royal proclamation was read, and they sent workmen and artisans as had been promised. The groom had convinced the council it would be good for him to go along. He was looking forward to meeting and spending time again with his betrothed, whom he knew to be quite comely.

  “Tillisa,” Czarinaea said, keeping her voice soft while speaking to her timid new servant. “It is perfectly alright to look me in the eye when we speak. I recognize that you were taken in a raid and made a slave in the past, but you are perfectly safe here in…”

  “Hippa, hippa!” came a loud but familiar cry from the front of the house. Czarinaea rushed to the door just as her mother burst enthusiastically through it, dropping the gifts she carried, and opening her arms wide.

  “Are you not happy to see me?” laughed Antilene in Czarinaea’s ear as they embraced.

  “I think this hug should answer that question!” Czarinaea said, squeezing her mother harder.

  “That is true, but you are crushing my ribs. Unarm me so that I can get a good look at you! Good, you have turned out well, and this,” she said pointing to the spacious home, “this is truly magnificent. I would have you show me to my room, but I am hungry for words and wine, and a bit of food would be the very thing for a wearied traveler.”

  Czarinaea called the servants, who her mother dismayed by giving them each a bear hug, lifting the smaller women off the floor, and clapping the men hard on the shoulders.

  Just a few days had passed, however, before all of the servants were vying for her mother’s favor, she having endeared herself by learning all their names and asking about their families. How could she, Czarinaea wondered, ever have shut this vibrant woman out of her life? But when she tried to apologize, her mother told her never to feel guilty about honest emotions.

  “I was stern, because I had to be,” she said, “and I will not apologize for my sternness. I expect no more from you. You have always been a good daughter. Even in your anger you did the right thing. This was destined. I am so sorry about Lotzar, however. That is a part of your life I wish that I could change. She was a great friend, a woman you could trust and talk to as women do. That is why I came. I have brought you a special gift, a woman from our tribe, to assist you in training the men or the horses.”

  “Where is she?” asked Czarinaea. “Why did you not bring her the night you came?”

  “I came on ahead with one of your warriors. I was too excited to dally on the road. We came straight through.”

  “Train my men?” asked Czarinaea, just realizing what her mother had said.

  “The training I speak of is in horseflesh, horse talk and stunt riding. Your men are seriously lacking in the finer arts of understanding animals. Some of the horseflesh they have here should never enter into a battle. They are not trained to assist their rider.

  “Yes…” Czarinaea hesitated before saying, “I suppose that is true. Must you leave right away, or will you stay to implement these new things?”

  “The woman I brought will follow your orders, and she will help you to teach them and you can help her find a mate. She drives me crazy with talk of mating and children!”

  “Oh, I see,” Czarinaea said, laughing. “You are pawning one of your amorous young women off on me. It will be another mouth to feed. And yes. I see your motives now.”

  “Do you indeed, my dear? Do you indeed,” her mother observed with a smile. “Well, she is impatient. I should warn you of that. In fact, if she has her way she shall have a child nine moons hence. See that she finds a good man. I will leave that to you.” Antilene’s face became very solemn. “Will you tell me about your good man? I’ve heard the rumors of course. But I think as a mother, I want to know that you were loved.”

  Czarinaea leaned her head to one side, her face sad but radiant. Finally she spoke.

  “I think that a better way for me to answer you is to say that I loved. I want to thank you for teaching me how to give my heart! I did not want a man in my life. I did not grow up with that thought, or with the sight of you and a mate together.”

  Czarinaea reached lovingly for her mother’s hand. “But small memories have lingered from the time when I was young and heard you comforting Lotzar’s mother one day about losing the man she loved. You spoke about men who were special, who were gifts from the goddess and knew how to worship a woman. You said that they were few and far between, but that, when a woman finds one, she should recognize the gift and give homage to the man in every way she can. You told her that she was right to love him, and she now had the gift of a child. You knew what you were talking about. I could feel it. You gave her some very good advice and she healed and became a wonderful mother just like you. Are you happy with the warrior king Myrina married? I hear she lives at quite a distance.”

  “Oh, no you don’t” her mother challenged her. “You cannot change the subject asking me about your sister. Won’t you tell me a bit about him?”

  “I am not yet ready to speak about him, but please know it is not that I do not wish to talk to you, just that I cannot speak of it yet! I am so happy that you are here. When do I get to meet this woman who will help me train the men to understand horses better?” Czarinaea laughed.

  “Hello, hello!” came a voice from beyond the door.

  “Now that is perfect timing,” her mother said. “It is Egeria, the addition to your staff that I have been bragging about!”

  Tellisa hurried to do her job and led Egeria to where she and her mother sat. Noticing that Egeria had the same saucy walk that Lotzar had, with hips swinging and a big smile splashed across her precocious face, Czarinaea thought, Yes, she will do just fine!

  Czarinaea awoke suddenly from a fitful sleep. Reaching across the bed she called for Stryangaeus, and hearing no answer, remembered, her eyes filling with tears as the loss of her lover became a heavy cloak engulfing her. Her mind racing with unbidden thoughts of all the things she could have d
one differently for both her friend Lotzar and for the man she had loved, she clutched her pillow to her and tried to stifle the sound of her sobs. All that she had learned in her life did not leave room for weakness, and she believed grief a weakness. Visions of her friend dying before her eyes and of her lover dying alone plagued her. Try as she may she could not stop the onslaught of grief until finally, she cried out, one single primal sound that brought her no comfort.

  Stryangaeus’ voice was soft but true, “My queen, my beautiful queen, it is time you grieved… but it is never time for guilt.”

  Czarinaea spun around, eyes wide at the sound of his voice. “How… how can this be?”

  Reaching for his hand, as she had done in the past, she felt his fingers grip hers, and crying out, “I’ve missed you so,” flung herself into his arms.

  “Come,” he said, “lie down beside me and let me hold you.”

  “What did you mean when you said there is never time for guilt?” she asked him as her tears slowly subsided. “There is so much I would have done differently! Lotzar did not have to die. And you! The guilt I feel over our love… over causing your death overwhelms me!”

  “The expression of true grief unburdens the soul, but guilt is false and it creates burden,” he told her. “You felt there was no way for us to be together when I was alive. By holding onto the guilt and not grieving, you continue to hold on to me. It’s as if by not accepting my death fully you can hold on to the love we never had the chance to experience.”

  He took her chin, gently lifting it up so that he could look directly into her eyes.

  “My love, I cannot move on until you accept my death. Your guilt connects you to me, creating a false sense of security. Grief, tears, pain, anger…they are all normal emotions to feel when someone you love has died. You lost your best friend, your child and your lover all in a matter of a few days. Yet you have not truly wept or allowed yourself to feel the pain, or to speak of your loss. Anger is the only emotion you allow, anger at your spirit guide for not warning you in a dream or in a vision.”