Midsummer Breeding

********** PART ONE **********

Annie tossed a gnarly branch on a towering wood pile, wincing at the lance of pain shooting through her finger.

"I told you to wear gloves," said Granda, her shoulder-length red hair frizzy in the humidity. "Your hands are soft from inside work."

Annie knew better than to take offense at her fellow priestess' gruff demeanor. Despite Granda's typical bored tone and her complete lack of warmth or friendliness, Annie was very fond of her odd companion. Granda was perfectly suited to a life of seclusion at the Terrestrial Temple, though it was more likely she was more into caring for the animals than prayer and contemplation.

Helion, priest to Father Sun and High Hand of their little valley Temple, said caring for animals

was

Granda's form of prayer and contemplation as a priestess to Arista and Anona, twin goddesses of agriculture.

Annie pulled a splinter of wood from her finger with her teeth, spitting it toward the unlit bonfire. "I'll have to be more careful."

Granda pulled more logs from a rickety wheelbarrow without a word. Her long face was devoid of any emotion, big gray eyes cold. The smudges of grit and grime on her cheeks and her grubby brown robes suited her. Annie liked to think of Granda as a nature spirit trapped in human form; pretty, but unreachable.

A gust of wind carried the heat of the coming summer as it whipped Annie's dark curly hair about her face. Chickens pecked the ground by the legs of a dairy cow and her little calf as they grazed in a nearby pasture while three old geldings huddled together along the fence, watching the two women build bonfires for the coming midsummer festival.

Annie brushed her hair back, calling, "I have nothing for you fellas."

Granda actually smiled.

The pounding of hooves made them turn toward the dirt road that led down to the village at the valley floor. Sir Torric's long gray hair flew about his head as he rode up the hill. Far behind him, dark smoke billowed up into the otherwise clear sky. War had not troubled their sleepy little valley, but traders had carried rumors of political unrest and turmoil along with their wares all spring. Annie had been praying for peace.

She waved as Sir Torric approached, a warm grin spreading over his haggard face.

"I am glad to feel Father Sun's heat on my skin, but I admit I prefer the cool of spring and fall to summer." He climbed down from his saddle and led his brown courser toward them.

"You and me both," said Annie, her fair skin flushed hot.

He glanced across the clearing, four other massive piles of dried wood ready to be lit. "Where does Helion want the booths?"

"In the center of the field. He's leery of more broken windows and vegetable thieves." Annie put her hands on her hips, turning toward the Temple. "Although, I'd like to meet the person who scaled the garden wall last year. Such a feat is honestly impressive."

The old temple guard chuckled, smoothing his mustache with his fingers. "We could make a festival game out of it. First one over the wall gets all the pomegranates on the tree."

Annie grinned at the thought of Helion's apoplectic reaction to such a suggestion.

"I'll take the Sunstones to Naomi and then I'll get started with the booths. Where are Herschel and Reuben?" Sir Torric pressed his hands against the small of his back and leaned to his side for a deep stretch.

"Sir Reuben and Sir Herschel went up to the Celestial Shrine to pray." Granda threw the last of the wood onto the pile and lifted the wheelbarrow by the handles, nodding at the old warhorse. "Bruno looks tired. Would you like me to take him to the stable for you?"

He handed her the reins, patting the horse on the flank. "Thank you, Sister Granda. You spoil this old boy."

She smiled at Bruno and led him away, the rattle of the cart loud in the peaceful afternoon.

Sir Torric shook his head. "That one's part horse herself."

Annie smiled. "These animals are lucky to have her. She treats them better than some treat their children."

He smoothed his gray tunic, adjusting the sword belt around his waist. "Well, I better find Naomi and then get to work on those booths. Where's that damn Bendrake? He should've been out here helping you."

Annie brushed bits of wood and bark from her white robes, enjoying the feel of the soft linen as it billowed against her legs in the wind. "He's singing hymns in the Inner Sanctum with Sister Ilena."

The old knight sighed. "Healers. They think just because they can bind broken bones and wave an Amethyst pendant over a sickly babe means they don't have to do anything else. Want everything done for them."

It wasn't that Brother Bendrake was lazy, rather that he was grossly incompetent when it came to pretty much anything but healing. Especially physical labor. The man was smart enough to play to his strengths.

"I can take the Sunstones to the High Priestess for you," said Annie.

Sir Torric snorted, a knowing smile on his lips as he pulled a dark velvet pouch from the inside of his tunic. "You just want to have a look at these, don't you, my girl? Can't fool me."

She gasped, pressing her hand over her mouth in feigned outrage. "Me? Play around with something as dangerous as Sunstones? How could you suggest such a thing?"

He held out the pouch, the fatherly affection in his eyes warming her heart. "If anything explodes, I'm telling Helion you stole them."

Annie took the pouch and poured several red-orange crystal beads into her palm, marveling at their beauty as she ran her thumb over their smooth warmth. Naomi must've been planning to make jewelry to sell at the festival.

Her heart clenched as she thought of the High Priestess with dark curls and features so similar to her own. She pushed her anxious thoughts away and took a calming breath. Sunstones brought joy and confidence. Annie closed her eyes, channeling her spiritual energy through her veins to the crystals in her hand.

A gentle ringing filled the air and her eyes flew open. She'd done it!

Sir Torric backed away, eyes wide. "Careful now, Sister Annika. Those are powerful crystals you have there."

All of the beads glowed, red and orange light flickering and sparking like embers in a hearth. Courage and vitality surged through her, making her bold. She would confront Naomi. The time had come. She'd put it off for far too long.

The beads began to vibrate in her palm and Sir Torric panicked, falling to the ground with his arm thrown up in self-defense. "Stop!"

A burst of light blinded Annie and a loud crack made them both scream. Annie fell to her knees, squeezing the Sunstones tight as spots slashed across her field of vision. The ringing stopped and the crystals dimmed, cooling in her gasp.

She poured them back into the pouch, pleased she'd been able to invoke the crystal's blessing, but sorry she'd frightened her old friend. "Forgive me, Torric. I got a little carried away."

The old man clutched at his chest as he sat on the ground, breathing erratic. Annie hurried forward to help him up.

He forced a smile. "It's alright, my girl. No harm done. If I'd known you're so capable, I wouldn't have given them to you."

Annie had the good grace to laugh as he took her hands, hoisting himself to his feet. "All those hours of praying and meditating have paid off."

She hid the pouch in her loose sleeve before he could take it. Delivering crystals was an excellent excuse to disturb Naomi in her quarters.

"You're a dedicated priestess, sweet Annika. I'll remember to thank the gods for making you so gentle and kind in my prayers tonight." He winked at her. "With power like yours, you could be a real terror to behold."

"It's easy to be gentle and kind when you're surrounded by goodness." Annie dipped her head in a polite bow before hurrying off to find Naomi. "I'll see you at dinner."

"If you see that damn Healer, send him out here. I'll teach that silly fool to swing a hammer."

Annie chuckled as she jogged toward the stone building, heavy oak doors thrown open wide to welcome pilgrims and parishioners. Normally, she would've been excited to watch something as comical as grizzly old Sir Torric attempting to teach limp-wristed Brother Bendrake to use tools, but she had a more important matter to attend to.

Another gust of warm wind blew over her, rustling the lush ivy that grew over the dark stone walls of the temple. It was as if Boreas, god of the winds, blessed her search for truth.

**********

Annie pressed her ear against the doors to the Inner Sanctum, sunlight spilling out from beneath into the dim hallway. A few torches flickered on the wall, but a lack of windows made the hallways perpetually gloomy.

Silence.

Ilena and Bendrake had never been discreet with their affections. Everyone joked about making sure to be late for meals the Healer and the priestess prepared together.

As a priestess to Jocasta, the moon goddess of prophecy, dreams, and purity, Annie was sworn to chastity. She cracked the door open, peering inside and breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of her friends sitting side-by-side, fully clothed as they meditated at the base of a small hill.

The Inner Sanctum was a square courtyard, the lush green grass and brilliant sunshine a sharp contrast to the dark stone walls that enclosed the area. At the top of the hill, huge rocks had been arranged in a large circle. Butterflies fluttered about and the fresh scent of summer was in the air.

Annie coughed, making them jump. "Brother Bendrake, Sir Torric wants you to help set up the booths for the festival."

The priest to Numos, god of order and wisdom, was a handsome man at the latter end of youth in loose robes of gray. Big brown eyes and delicate features made him popular in the village just as much as his tonics, remedies, and Amethysts. He had a friendly, personable way about him that made him easy to approach and like.

He turned toward Annie, stretching with a loud yawn. "I suppose I can't hide in here forever. Torric was bound to find me sooner or later."

"Do try and be useful," said a pretty woman with a round face and dark blonde hair. Ilena served as a priestess to Carmina, goddess of music and stories. Her golden robes sparkled in the sun. "Sir Torric has no patience for your fooling around."

Bendrake grinned, leaning over to kiss her plump lips. "Well, good thing you do."

Her laughter was light and free as she cupped his cheek, pressing her forehead against his so they could rub their noses together.

Annie had seen enough. She pulled the door closed, not bothering to be quiet and hurried toward Naomi's quarters. Fortunately, she didn't have to go far, the priestess to Mother Earth's room just around the bend in the hallway.

Annie stopped outside the door, straightening her robes and brushing her hair back over her shoulders before she knocked.

"Enter."

She took a deep breath, silently beseeching Jocasta for courage and for Naomi to be open to a difficult conversation. She pushed the door open and stepped inside a small room. A beautiful middle-aged woman dressed in flowing green robes reclined in a chair, needlepoint in hand. Her single bed sat in a corner and a tiny window let in enough light so no fire had to be lit.

"Are the bonfires ready to go?" Naomi's voice was throaty and rich.

Annie nodded. "Sir Torric is getting started on all the booths. I have the Sunstones he went and got for you."

"Excellent. I want to make prayer beads for the nine of us. They'll heighten our connection to Father Sun during midsummer."

Annie fidgeted with the pouch as she approached, struggling to give voice to the words on her lips.

Naomi held out her hand, eyes on the dark velvet. "Thank you. Who's turn is it to make dinner?"

"Granda's," said Annie. "But she's busy tending Sir Torric's horse. I don't mind doing it."

Naomi's eyes were a golden hazel, wise, yet always sad when they met Annie's. "Thank you. You have a servant's heart."

Annie hesitated, heart thudding against her ribs as her stomach twisted in knots. She must not have invoked the Sunstone's blessing as well as she thought.

Naomi regarded her with interest. "Anything else?"

It was now or never.

Annie swallowed hard. "I know you're my mother."

Naomi flinched as though Annie had struck her.

Every passing moment felt like eternity, Annie's throat tightening with emotion and her heart sinking in her chest as Naomi stared at her, beautiful in her tragic shock. When the silence became too much, Annie turned around, blinking away tears.

"How long have you known?" The High Priestess' voice was soft and calm.

Annie took a deep breath, determined to be as hard as the woman who'd brought her into the world. She turned back around. "I've always known. We look so much alike."

Naomi studied her, gaze lingering over the pretty mouth and high cheekbones she shared with her daughter. When their eyes met, emotion flickered over the woman's face, her mask slipping. "You have Titus' piercing gaze. You know he's your father, then?"

Cold, lonely memories of white marble and men in drab gray robes watching over orphan children while they whispered about the little girl with a lovely singing voice and the Alcalde's brilliant blue eyes echoed across her mind.

Annie swallowed a sob, nodding.

The High Priestess looked away, picking at a loose thread in her needlepoint as she shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

Annie clenched her hands into fists, a thousand questions and a few biting retorts on her tongue. The sad little girl in her wanted to run away and hide, but the strong, wise priestess wanted answers.

"What do you want from me, Annika?" Naomi faced her. "How did you think I would respond?"

"What happened?" blurted Annie, pushing the childish hope of a tearful embrace deep inside herself. "I just want the truth."

Naomi tossed her needlepoint in a basket by her chair and stared into the cold hearth, recalling a time Annie had wondered about her entire life. "I can give you that. You deserve at least that much."

"I was born in Civitas Riparia," began Naomi. "Nomos is very popular there, but as you know, the god of order doesn't allow women into his priesthood. So, like you, I devoted myself to Jocasta."

Annie held her breath, transfixed.

"I was dedicated. I never wanted a husband or children, so I was happy to spend my days as a virgin priestess," continued Naomi. "One day, I was sent to collect some scrolls from the Crino for the High Priestess of my Temple and I caught your father's eye. He approached me and wanted to know my name and where I lived. Complimented my piety and devotion. He was older than I, and very, very handsome. I was flattered, unsure how to handle flirtatious men."

Dread weighed heavily on Annie's shoulders. "How old were you?"

Naomi's gaze dropped, features darkening with anger. "I was young. Too young."

Annie took a step forward, heart breaking. "Mother, I-"

The High Priestess pushed herself to her feet. "I am not your mother. Your father lay with me and your form was conceived. I gave birth to you, but I didn't nurse you. I didn't raise you. You were never mine."

Annie shuddered.

Naomi's chest rose and fell with her heavy breathing, expression softening as she composed herself. "I am sorry, Annika. I am sorry for any pain that I have caused you. I realize now that you suffer just as much if not more than I have. But please know that I have made peace with the circumstances surrounding your conception and birth. I hope that in time, you can find peace of your own."

Sorrow twisted Annie's insides. Words failed her.

Naomi sat down and took up her needlepoint, expression stone. "Speak no more of this."

Annie nodded and turned away. "What shall I make for dinner?"

"You're the one cooking," said Naomi. "But the basket of bread the baker brought as offering needs to be eaten."

"I'll fry it." Annie pulled open the door.

"Oh, how nice. I enjoy your cooking most of all."

Annie stepped out into the hall and pulled the door closed behind her, pressing her head against the solid wood. She allowed herself to feel - to burn with anger, to ache with grief - before she stood up straight, adjusting her robes and heading off to the kitchen. The others were likely just as hungry as she was with all the festival preparations going on.

********** PART TWO **********

The moon and the sister star were radiant in their celestial thrones, their light soft and pale as Annie climbed the stone steps to the Celestial Shrine to make her nightly offering to Jocasta. Moonstones glowed in alcoves that had been carved into the side of the mountain, their cool colors supposed to inspire peace and introspection.

Annie struggled to get into her meditative state of mind, still reeling from her confrontation with Naomi. She should've never said anything.

During dinner, the High Priestess had acted as if the confrontation had never happened while the others chatted about the festival and the division of labor. Sir Torric spoke of war raging outside the valley.

Annie didn't fight the tears that spilled onto her cheeks. She was alone. It was safe.

A powerful burst of wind blew her hair back from her shoulders and she paused, closing her eyes as the wind swept over her. Nature was the best place to commune with the gods.

The smell of foul smoke was faint; likely a toxic plume of death and destruction blown in from some battlefield, castle siege, or mass funeral pyre. Annie wrinkled her nose and covered her mouth and nose with her hand. Father Sun and Mother Earth had blessed them with a warm, wet spring, and, instead of planting fields, tending livestock, and being kind to one another, humans waged war.

The stone steps beneath Annie's bare feet were cool and smooth, the elevation a refuge from the heat that lay over the valley like a heavy blanket. Vunos, god of the mountains, raised them to impress Arista. Like Granda, Arista preferred the company of animals to that of men, but her sister, Anona, was deeply impressed. She sought Vunos in his halls of stone and they made Malleator, god of metals and the forge.

Annie stopped to pick up a Moonstone as large as her palm and held it up to the light, smiling when the brightness intensified. Jocasta was with her; the moon goddess saw her priestess' pain. She cupped the crystal in her hands and pressed on, murmuring chants and hymns. She didn't need an earthly family when she had the gods.

If only she could make herself believe that.

Light flickered up ahead as two figures descended the stairs, speaking in low voices. Annie's heart seized in her chest at Naomi's tense expression. A Moonstone twinkled in Helion's palm as the priest to Father Sun and High Hand of the Terrestrial Temple clutched Naomi's arm for balance.

Annie plastered a polite smile on her face and bent her knees, dipping her head in a bow. "I don't think I've ever known either of you to visit the Celestial Shrine this late. I am sorry I missed the pleasure of your company."

Naomi brushed her hair back from her forehead, the glow of the Moonstones bringing out the gold in her eyes. "I gave up trying to sleep hours ago. Organizing our midsummer festivities and observances are enough to keep me up at night on their own. Add in war and strife and I'm practically at my wits end."

Helion nodded, the old man's expression grim. Despite the wrinkles and shock of white hair, the High Hand was still an impressive man with a square jaw and broad shoulders. He wore a sleeveless red tunic with worn out leather sandals. He pressed his lips together in a thin line as he studied Annie.

"What do Father Sun and Mother Earth think of all this violence and gore before they herald in the summer?" asked Annie. If Naomi wanted to pretend their brutal conversation had never happened, Annie was happy to oblige.