The Stone by the Stream (Part 4)

Silence reigned in the clearing. A sliver of moon peeked through the trees, following the setting of the sun. The four men stood off at a distance, leaning against their spears and watching Agatha the acolyte approach Cynthia and the stone.

Agatha wore an ironical smile with her brows raised expectantly.

“I expected you to come alone,” Cynthia said at last.

“I never promised that, child,” Agatha said. Her kindly face dropped its ironical look as she added, “If it’s any consolation, I’m as surprised as you are that I had to bring them with me.”

“Do you mean…?”

Agatha shrugged. “I am merely an acolyte, child. I am no priestess, I am no oracle. It is not given to me to divine the mind of the Goddess; I merely execute her will as it is transmitted to me.”

“So someone else…?”

Agatha cleared her throat and raised a hand in oh-so-gentle dismissal. “All will be revealed in time.”

“And what are they doing here?” Cynthia asked, nodding toward the men with their spears, who were murmuring and laughing among themselves, apparently indifferent to the conversation between the woman and the girl.

Agatha straightened up and her voice took on an official tone as she answered: “They’re simply here to emphasize that I, the Temple of the Huntress, and the Goddess herself are very serious about the two messages I’ve been sent to bring you.”

Cynthia eyed the four men. At their ease now, but armed and armored. Not one of them under six foot tall, and with a military precision in their movements. A red-haired man, apparently aware of being watched, shot Cynthia a withering glance.

She turned back to Agatha and said, “Well, I think the Temple has made its point. I’m curious what a twelve-year-old girl like me could have done to warrant such a very serious message, though.”

“I don’t know everything, child, and — ”

“And you’ve made that abundantly clear.”

Agatha raised her eyebrows, grinning once more. “I’ll let that pass. Anyway, I bring two messages on the part of the Temple of the Huntress and the Goddess herself.”

Cynthia bit back the urge to make another cutting remark, instead limiting herself to, “What are your messages?”

“Firstly, the Goddess commands that — for the time being — you cease your investigations into the naiads, this clearing, and that stone. In addition, you are to stay away from the clearing — again, for the time being. And she reminds you that the Temple has ways of knowing if her commands are carried out… and if they are violated.”

“The Goddess says this.”

“Do not mock me, child! You have no idea what powers you’re playing with.”

The men with spears grew silent and faced the acolyte as her outburst split through the clearing. Agatha folded inward on herself, a sheepish expression on her face. After a breath and a muttered prayer she continued, “Again, those four men are here to remind you how serious the Temple is about this command — and, yes, the Goddess herself.”

“And what is the second message?”

“It is my pleasure to extend you an invitation to a private audience with one of the priestesses of the Temple of the Huntress. Tomorrow morning. And, given the company I’ve brought with me… I hope you’ll see what I mean when I say you are strongly encouraged to accept this favor you’ve been graciously granted.”

A flurry of speech broke out among the men in the distance. One of them pointed excitedly toward the stream, shouting something Cynthia couldn’t make out.

“I must say I’m surprised,” Cynthia said. “Yesterday you made it sound like an invitation was out of the question. Today you come and drop it into my lap — along with your spears.”

“I am only a servant of the Goddess. You would do well to remember you have been given a great favor when you appear for your audience tomorrow.”

Before Cynthia could respond, Agatha turned to the yelling men and shouted, “What is all that commotion about, Bartholomew?”

The red-haired man responded: “Silas said he saw something moving off across the stream. A woman, he said.”

Again Cynthia felt a thrill down her spine. The stone she leaned against seemed to warm at her back.

“A woman? Well, what of that?” Agatha said with exaggerated calm.

Bartholomew shrugged. “Could be nothing. He went off to find her, is all.”

“Did I not distinctly tell you to stick together as a group? We’ll have to go find him, and quickly, before…” Agatha trailed off, turned to Cynthia, who could only gaze transfixed at the change in the acolyte’s face. Agatha’s wide eyes, hurried gestures, and nervous step filled Cynthia with vague dread and — in spite of the godlike presence emanating from the stone — cold foreboding.

Agatha spoke: “Unfortunately, I have no more time for ceremony. You will be present for your audience at the Temple tomorrow morning, yes?”

Rustling in the bushes across the stream.

A man’s shout in the distance.

Jerky movements from the three men who remained behind Agatha.

A sound — a voice? — as of the music of heaven’s lyre, entrancing with its beauty yet leaving Cynthia chill and rigid with terror. Nothing natural could sound like that… nothing human. And yet the beauty of the sound was such that there welled up in Cynthia’s breast a keen desire that the sound would possess her utterly, work its way into every one of her nerves, and dissolve her into a thousand and one shining shards.

With her back against the glowing stone, her eyes rolled back and her lids slipped —

“Come off it, child!” Agatha shouted, slapping Cynthia’s face. “Will you be at the Temple tomorrow or not?”

Disoriented, Cynthia gazed into the fear in Agatha’s once-soft eyes.

“I will,” she said simply.

“Good,” Agatha said. “Now go home. Straight home. And remember what I said about visiting this place.”

Cynthia obeyed, finding her way to the trail back home as Agatha rushed toward the waiting men, shouting instructions. Every nerve in her body alight, she made for the edge of the clearing, watching over her shoulder the three men and one woman advancing toward the stream. The eerie musical voice — but no, it couldn’t be a voice! — still filled the air around with awful beauty and wonderful terror.

Then she was out of the clearing, and the sound stopped.

Before she made it far along the path, she heard a man’s scream in the distance.

Then silence.

Cynthia returned home without further incident.