Part Three: Recollection Northwest of the Temple of Gaia was a vast forest of broad-leafed oaks and beeches where jackals and vipers, eagles and boars made the wood their home. These were Artemis’ hunting grounds and those who ventured past the eaves of the trees only did so with her leave, held to account for their presence. The meadow at the edge of the woods was awash in sunlight. Field mice and rabbits scurried through the tall grass, gorging on wild strawberries. Bees droned among the flowers growing along a well-worn path and a golden eagle wheeled above the earth in lazy circles. A loud crack resounded and the ground trembled, sending all the small creatures, who had been enjoying a peaceful afternoon, racing back to their burrows. The eagle dipped, faltering mid-flight before crying out in a high whine, and diving toward the trees. The air split like a skilled seamstress was cutting through the fabric of reality. Vera and Dar emerged side-by-side. Behind them, the inside of the Passage churned with light and shadow like a bank of storm clouds surging across the ocean. Raising her hand, Vera sealed the breach. The Guardian turned in a tight circle, taking the measure of their surroundings, dagger drawn. “Stand down. Caution is okay, but I doubt Lethe will have figured out where we’re going,” Vera said. “I don’t relish being harangued by your grandmother for eternity because I was careless with your safety.” “She’d be just as angry with me.” “You have no idea.” Dar continued to search the immediate vicinity for any sign of threat. “Anything?” “No. I wish we’d sent someone in advance of our arrival. Coming upon Artemis without any warning is dangerous.” Vera peered into the shadows beyond the forest’s edge. “Yeah, she’s not fond of uninvited guests under the best of circumstances. Any ideas of how we could announce ourselves?” “Yes.” Dar threw their head back, letting loose a series of high whistles. The eagle that had flown to safety upon their arrival answered their call, rocketing toward them with the surety and speed of an arrow loosed by the Huntress herself. The sun glinted off the dark chocolate and caramel striations on her feathers. They held out an arm and the raptor landed on their leather vambrace. Stretching her wings, she fluttered them as she settled, before tucking them against her body, waiting for them to state the purpose of their summons. They spoke in quick whips and chirrups. Dar’s tribe, the Refsi, were from the Northern Mountains and lived among the cliffs where the eagles built their eyries. The two had been allies since Gaia set them together high above the fields and farms of the lowlands. As a child, Vera loved accompanying Dar during their visits to the Temple’s mews and weathering yards, her small hand held in their wide palm while they spoke with the raptors in their strange language. Hearing it now was heartening and she smiled. They bowed in deference as the conversation concluded. The bird clicked her beak in affirmation before lifting off. She climbed into the sky, skimming the treetops as she flew toward Artemis’ encampment. Dar turned to Vera. “Soon Artemis will know we’re on our way.” They set a brisk pace, following the path past the edge of the forest, and deeper into the woods. It was dim beneath the trees and Vera stopped for a moment. She closed her eyes, counted three breaths, and opened them again. The beauty of Artemis’ forest never failed to leave her breathless with wonder. The earth under the dense canopy of leaves was lush with ferns. Asphodels grew in clutches between the trees. Their stalks burst with white blooms, like clusters of stars embroidered on a mantle of green. The bone-white lichen clinging to the fallen logs glowed in the low light. The path was well kept, the dirt and leaf litter trampled down, and the ground-cover cut back to allow for easy passage. Dar appeared calm, but the Guardian was a warrior who could tumble from peaceful to calculating and deadly in a matter of seconds. The comfort of having them near gave Vera the space to consider the reunion she was walking toward. Artemis was electrifying. During the time of the Olympians, she had been the Goddess of the hunt, the moon, and chastity – the latter being a fact that Vera never failed to mention when Vera was naked in Artemis’ bed. The Huntress was private to a fanatical degree and protective of her attendants. She avoided Olympus and her father, Zeus, preferring the wilds and the company of nymphs and dryads. She aligned herself with the Mound of Gaia after the Olympians’ power waned and became the Daemon of the Woodlands. Vera had been smitten with the Huntress from the moment she had clapped eyes on her when she was thirteen. Her grandmother had bid her serve as Artemis’ attendant for a season, and she had grown to love her as a mentor. After she had reached womanhood, she returned to Artemis, and the Goddess had taken Vera to her bed as a lover. It had been an education of a different sort, plumbing the breadth of her desires. She had brought her to the edge of madness with want and taught her the power that came with submission. Years had passed since she first knelt at Artemis’ feet. They came together as they were able, always with the blessing of her lovers. There had been little time in the past year for them to indulge in play. The Goddess received the gift of the High Votaress’ submission with grace and never sought to exploit the connection. She had never come to her lover with a request of this gravity and she was unsure how she would respond. “She’ll be glad to help you,” Dar said. Vera stopped walking, staring at their back in shock. The Guardian shrugged, “You mutter when you’re nervous.” The ferns rustled as small animals scoured the ground for food and birdsong threaded through the trees. She huffed and caught up to Dar. “We need her help, but I don’t…” “You’re not taking advantage of her. Do you trust her?” “Of course.” “And she trusts you?” “Yes.” “Then she’ll know that you’re not manipulating her. If she says no, we’ll search for another way to get to Lethe.” “What if there isn’t another way?” “My little woodlark, there is always another way.” They clasped Vera’s hand in theirs and pulled her forward into a comforting embrace. “We’ll find one.” She relaxed into Dar’s arms, giving over to the need for reassurance. The branches above their heads creaked, followed by a whump on the path beside Dar and Vera. A bright, smiling voice disrupted the quiet. “Find what, pretty?”
Leave a Reply