Ayla was burning. Had been burning for a very long time, but now the flames were made visible, roiling on her flesh of her palms as she strode through dusky woods. Behind her the remains of a smoldering village glowed like a hot coal on the horizon.
She was wrapped in a heavy gray cloak, hood up, head down as she waded through the ashy wood. She did not look like the famous witch who had once been known for endless acts of good and mercy. She looked like a tall specter of anger and flame, moving through a world which was slowly charring around her.
All was not well with Ayla. And all was not well with Lesbia.
The witch wandered almost aimlessly through the forest, taking a step in one direction, then one in another. She did not seem to have a direction in mind. Once or twice she circled completely. All the while the flames on her fingers continued to burn, bright sparks of light amid the gathering dark.
The wind was changing. It came whistling through the bare trees, bringing a cold which made the witch draw her cloak about her shoulders. She kept her aimless walk in spite of the inclemency of the weather which grew swiftly worse, darkness gathering before her.
It took the form of a woman. A woman of short stature but imposing presence. A woman with bright golden flecked eyes and robes of silk which flew about her in the breeze. Her skin was marked with dark lines which flowed in sinuous motion.
“AYLA.”
She did not shout the word, she spoke it in a voice which seemed drawn from the rock beneath the soil. It was a voice which commanded attention. A voice which drew a quirk from the lips of the witch with the bowed head.
“You’ve found me.”
“You cannot hide from me, Ayla. I will always know where you are.”
“You hid from me once.”
“I was not hiding. You know that. I was… digesting.” Ariadne smirked coldly, her golden eyes narrowed. “You, Ayla have gone too far. I have heard of your deeds. And now I see them for myself. A village lies in ruins.”
Ayla lifted her head and her great green eyes met the goddess’ with pure defiance. “They denied me a bed.”
Ariadne, mother of witches, goddess of Lesbia and more besides, seemed confused. “That is not like you, Ayla. You do not do evil.”
“I didn’t do evil,” Ayla replied. “Nobody died and nothing of value was lost. There is another village not five miles from here. They can move there.”
Ariadne let out a sigh, her voice rasping with the shattering of ice as the day grew colder still. “I do not like interfering in the affairs of mortals. Aside from anything, it bores me. And usually, there is some lesser good who can step in and fix the problem. Like you.”
“Lesser good,” Ayla smirked. “Yes, perhaps I was a lesser good. Once. No longer.”
“Lesbia is in real trouble if I must be the greater good,” Ariadne crackled. “And you, Ayla, are in even worse trouble.” The dark lines banded threateningly across Ariadne’s face as she looked at the witch. “I have little patience.”
“I don’t want your attentions, Ariadne.”
“You have them,” the goddess insisted. “I will not let you burn Lesbia to the ground.”
“Why not? They so often used fire against our kind. It would be poetic.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“So? What is time to you or I?”
“It is everything,” Ariadne replied. “It is the mill which has ground you to this state.”
Ayla turned, hiding her face from the goddess. “Leave me be,” she said. “I wish to be alone.”
“I will not,” Ariadne replied. “I will not tolerate another minute of this indulgence. This self pity. This loathing turned against the world. This ends now. Ayla.”
“What will you do?” Ayla turned back, her green eyes gleaming. “Imprison me in obsidian?”
“You are not your mother,” Ariadne replied. “And you are not beyond redemption. I am giving you into the care of one who can contain and control you. One who will see this dark transformation undone.”
“Contain me? Control me? There is no such person.”
Ariadne smiled, leaned forward and breathed a word which made every tree in the forest quake.
“WRONG.”
****
I just released a new Lesbia book :D You can get it on Amazon now!
Nothing is easy in Lesbia, especially not for a princess sent off to be married to a distant prince. Within hours of departing her father’s castle pretty Princess Nive finds herself in the custody of Kira, legendary warrior and trader of flesh.
Being captured by a powerful, dominant warrior is only the beginning for Nive. She is but one thread in a tapestry of stories which have been winding through Lesbia since the beginning of time. The warrior gives Nive into the care of an enigmatic half-elf witch who seems kind, but has an unyielding stance on the discipline of prisoner princesses. The party travels to a fortress hidden in the depths of a secret forest. all the while being pursued by an army desperate to reclaim Nive and send her to her intended.
Nive must struggle against fickle fate which seems determined to take the destiny she never questioned before meeting Ayla the witch and Kira the warrior. She must decide for herself if she will be the wife of a king, a pawn of a goddess, a lover of a lowly scout, or if she will be something more than she ever dreamed.
Throughout it all, Nive is far from alone in her journey. There is Hope, the scout who dreams of becoming a soldier if only Kira could see her potential, Ariadne, the goddess everyone was sure was eaten long ago, and Mary, whose feud with a petunia could spill into all out herbicide.