Just the first chapter of one of my novel projects. I don't think I'll be posting the rest here for awhile.

Silence of the Gods

Chapter 1

Juno gulped nervously as she peeked out of the gap in the shutters of the window of Lloren’s house. The main square of the village was in absolute chaos as the last minute garlands and wreaths were put up and the final nails were being driven into the wooden platform that had been built in the middle of the square - the only part of the village paved with thick, interlocking slabs of granite that had been mined from the quarry at the north end of the vast Mijikai valley.

Across the square, she could see Terrance, the village headman, deep in discussion with Lloren as they both watched Derasineh finish laying the last crossbeam on the platform and securing it with nails and a length of hemp rope, his long freckled face drenched with sweat, despite the pleasantly cool spring weather.

Catching sight of her peering out the window, he shot her a lazy grin and winked with his good eye. Juno barely had time to return it with a small smile of her own before a hand seized the back of her sheer night-shift and hauled her away from the window, leaving the shutters to swing shut with a crash.

“What do you think you’re doing, girl?!” snapped Noka, pulling her across the room so that they were as far from the window as they could get without actually leaving the small bedroom.

“What is it Noka?” asked Shonna as she breezed into the room, robes thrown over both arms and pots of rouge and kohl balanced precariously on top of the whole pile. Juno hurried across the room and rescued the pots before they upset and ruined the beautiful robes and stained the thick mats that covered the rough-hewn floor of her bedroom.

“Juno was looking out the window!” proclaimed Noka in an outraged voice and Juno felt her face grow warm as she remembered what – or more what not – she was wearing. She tiptoed to the small desk her father had carved her years before and gently set the little pots of make up on it, feeling a desperate desire to vanish from the accusing stare of the irritable old woman who she had come to consider almost a mother.

“Don’t worry about it Noka,” said Shonna distractedly as she threw down the robes onto Juno’s small bedstead. “No one would be paying attention. It’s a madhouse out there.”

“Your boy was!” snapped Noka, stamping her foot. “You may think the world of that lad, but he’s a young man, prone to thoughts that plague those of his age. Why, just the other day I - ”

“Pfffft.” Snorted Shonna as she began to sort through the pile of ornate robes. “Boys will be boys, but Juno would never think of such things, would you Juno?”

“W-What things?” stammered Juno, flushing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Shonna.”

Shonna shot Noka a triumphant sort of look and the old woman grumbled something under her breath. Silence reigned for a moment or two, and Juno had just begun to work of the confidence to ask for an explanation when Shonna attacked her curly hair with a wooden comb.

“Och…” she murmured as Juno let out a startled yelp and promptly forgot about questions. “ You have so much hair girl – it’s a wonder that you or your mother could ever stand up straight!”

Juno’s reply was taken over by a gasp as Shonna encountered a particularly stubborn snarl halfway down her back and tugged on it mercilessly.

“Stop fidgeting girl!” scolded Noka, but the anger in her voice had faded and she was back to her crotchety old self. Juno bit her lip and struggled to keep a straight face as Shonna continued to comb out the dark blonde locks that she usually left to the wind’s mercy and managed to keep from whimpering as Noka began twisting it up in the woman’s style and pinning it in place, leaving Juno to contemplate the absence of the warm curtain that had once hung down her back and the heavy weight that had settled her head.

As often as she had experimented with twisting her hair up and holding it up on her head to look and feel grown-up, she couldn’t say she liked the style now that she was required to wear it. It felt like the time she and Dera had tried to walk across the high-meadow while balancing rocks on their heads. Already, her neck was beginning to ache.

“You look just like Diana did,” exclaimed Shonna delightedly, clasping her hands as Noka finished securing the last curl and both women stood back to admire her. Juno bore their scrutiny uncomfortably, shifting from one foot to another, as their prying eyes looked her up and down.

“Diana would have liked the look of you.,” allowed Noka after a moment. “Y’er a spitting image, right down to that little nose of yours”

Juno touched her nose self-consciously. While most of the village women admired it for its size, she couldn’t really see what was so appealing about it. She would have much rather had a long, straight one that didn’t disappear into her face whenever she looked at someone straight on. Small nose weren’t very interesting to draw either, unlike strong noses. Derasineh had one and it divided his once even face quite nicely and even had a bump, which was something else to add to the list of oddities in his appearance.

Shonna, at thirty-six year, shared little with her eldest son when it came to looks, save her laughing brown eyes and the dimpled chin that added extra shadows to both their faces.

Mostly, Derasineh had inherited his strange features, like his bright red hair, from his long-dead father, who had been born in Baikal, a village over one hundred miles away at the south end of Lake Lyell, the watery gateway into the Mijikai valley that few dared cross, save on dragon-back. Only if one was readily prepared to make the gruelling trek over the lower slopes of God Mountain – or Kamishan as it was known - and down the treacherous south road that traced the banks of the tempestuous Kuai river on horseback could they traverse the distance between the two villages, who were the only close neighbour the other had.

Lloren, Derasineh, Nathaniel and Daniel did just this twice a year without fail to fetch metals for the Smithery and see what news of her brother Mackelien and the other God Children had filtered north.

“Come on girl! Spread your arms!”

Juno came back to herself, only to realize that Shonna and Noka had already begun to dress her. Obediently, she stretched out her arms and Noka nodded approvingly as she slid into the sleeves of the ornate deel robe. It was longer than the dark blue and brown ones she normally wore and was the same pale green colour of spring leaves. Intricate gold threading wove its way around the collar and cuffs, while a pale gold braid had been used for the ties that would secure the robe just below her right shoulder. The loose, off-white pants were mostly visible though the waist high slits in the sides of the robe, which was very unusual in Juno’s opinion. She spun around experimentally the moment Noka’s old and nimble fingers had finished tying the elaborate knots, delighting in the way that the skirt fluttered around her waist, much like a pair of wings.

Running her fingers over the fabric, she found it delicately textured and while she knew that the robe was probably several generations old, it had none of the strange, starchy feeling of clothes that spent most of the year tucked away in chests. It was perhaps one of the most comfortable garments that Juno had ever worn, despite the strange feeling of the robe’s hem brushing her shins through the thin fabric of the pants – she was used to much shorter robes.

Fetching the makeup pots from the table, Noka instructed her to close her eyes. Soon, a thick layer of rouge was applied to her lips and eye-black was carefully traced onto her eyelids, leaving her with the disturbing feeling that she had just woken up and the crusties were still attached to her eyes.

“Don’t touch it!” bellowed Noka suddenly as Juno reached up to rub some of the uncomfortable feeling away.

“Sorry!” she yelped, jumping back.

“Just stay still,” said Shonna as Noka clicked her tongue irritably. “And don’t touch your face” Finished the old woman.

“Okay,” replied Juno in a small voice.

“Soon you’ll learn this for yourself and you’ll prepare your own daughters for the spring ceremony,” said Shonna fondly.

“Unless she’s like you and has only sons,” said Noka caustically.

Shonna laughed. “I love my boys. I wouldn’t trade them for all of the Emperor’s gold. Though I always wished for a little girl, but in a way, you may as well be my own daughter Juno.”

“Aye,” said Noka with a sharp sniff. “She’s at your house more often than she is here and she’s supposed to be living with Lloren and I until Mackelien returns!”

“When is he coming back?” asked Shonna curiously.

“Two weeks from now,” murmured Juno. “He said he would be finished his mission by then and that Dugan Bahwal and Ryunaito would probably return with him.”

Both women let out interested noises and exchanged delighted glances. Juno sighed. Dugan was a great favourite among Anzenna’s women, first for his dark and strangely exotic complexion and second for his mischievous and unassuming ways. Unlike Mackelien, who always retreated into himself upon returning to the village, Dugan flirted endlessly with nearly everyone, often while helping out with anything he could, making deliberate blunders all the while, always leaving those around him roaring with laughter even long after the fluttering hem of his dark cloak had vanished from the scene.

The sound of a distant gong met their ears and the three of them jumped.

“Gods above, It’s time,” hissed Noka, her gravely voice sounding worried. “You remember your part?”

Gulping nervously, Juno nodded. She practised it endlessly in the high meadow under Derasineh’s curious eyes as he rather inaccurately kept time with a pair of sticks. He had often joked that he had seen it so often that he could take her place if need be and every time, quite seriously, Juno asked him if he would consider doing just that. “I’m already a man!” He’d laugh, shaking his head. “I can’t do your ceremony! I’d be a woman also and wouldn’t that put me in something of a stitch?”

Juno always smiled when he said that. She could remember how close he was to not being allowed to do his trials with the other boys the year before. The scarring from the accident that had all but obliterated his left eye was still a stark reminder of the many things that Dera could not do, among them properly aiming a bow. Part of her also doubted that Derasineh could negotiate the intricate steps in the dance, as he was absurdly tall and long limbed. There was no question that he would accidentally bowl over the other girls.

Juno could barely think as Shonna and Noka ushered her out of her bedroom and into the main room of the house. After they gave her a quick once over, she found herself pushed out the door, stumbling as her shoe caught on one of the stone tiles. Instantly, the cheering crowd of people she had known her entire life swept her up and propelled her towards the platform.

Music, laughter, shouts and Derasineh’s shocked face slid by as she scrambled up the steps. Amy, Namrata, Allison, Ira and Vernail were already there, barely recognizable with their hair twisted up and the makeup that covered their faces. They were dressed in clothes finer than Juno had ever seen on them and all of them looked just as nervous as she felt. Allison even had a faint green tinge about her normally rosy cheeks.

Namrata smiled weakly, prodding at an itch beneath her black hair. “Seems so strange, doesn’t it Juno?”

Wordlessly, Juno nodded. The other girls exchanged glances, but before any of them could say anything more, a hush fell over the villagers as Obasan appeared at the edge of the square, dwarfed by Terrance and his son, Nathaniel, who supported her.

Obasan was a tiny woman, smaller than even Juno, her back hunched as though she carried the weight of ages on her shoulders. Spider webs of wrinkles were etched into her ageless face and her sharp green eyes caught one’s gaze and held it mercilessly until one had to look away, and she sought Juno’s eye in that very way as Terrance helped her up the short flight of steps to the platform. She did not hold it long though.

“Fear not, gifted child,” she murmured, before turning to face the assembled villagers as the girls arranged themselves around her in a circle and knelt, their brightly coloured dresses distracting naught an eye from the old woman in black who stood quietly at their centre.

When the silence was absolute, save for the far off screech of a hawk, Obasan finally spoke.

“I call on those who were made men.”

Slowly, seven young men, Derasineh included, detached themselves from the crowd and climbed up onto the platform, the hems of the cloaks they wore wisping over the wood. Each wore a rich robe similar to those of the girl’s, though darker coloured. Across the chest, three bars followed the stitching of the robe, coloured blue, black and red.

Realm of the Gods, Realm of men and Realm of the Demons thought Juno as she watched Derasineh kneel to the left of and slightly behind Vernail out of the corner of her eye. Behind her, she heard Alan, the shortest, but arguably the brightest of the men who had been made last autumn, kneel also.

When every one was arranged properly, according to height, Obasan smiled down on them once, before turning her gaze skywards and clapping her hands lightly, a pattern slowly emerging from the sounds. As it became more intricate, the drummers plucked it out of Obasan’s hands and soon the rhythm was echoing among the jagged peaks of the mountains surrounding the valley.

Obasan’s voice started low, but soon her voice rang out over the gathering, clear and musical, with an intangible wisdom to the words she sang, a wisdom that Juno could only hope that she would one day understand.

Maiden, Maiden standing in the light
We bring to you your own this night
She stands before you robed bright
In her glory, as is her right.

Shonna’s voice rose up from the assembly, her high notes joining Obasan’s low ones. One by one, the women of the village came forward, adding their voices to the melody, which had been taken up by a single flute.

Share with her your love and play
Your courage to stand for your own way
Firmness of right, and strength today
Hold to your beliefs without sway.

As Mothers we have shown her our truths.
Now 'tis her time for herself to choose.
Mother and Crone watch over her still
Guiding her by example we will.

Maiden, Maiden we call you tonight
Mother, and Crone, in all of your might
Watch over us all, and bless our rite.
Blessed Be.

Before the notes of the woman’s chant had even died, the seven young men interspersed in the circle began their own song, taught to them by their fathers.

Oh Great Father, we call you here
This young one's childhood end is near
She needs your love, and your strength to bear
As now is the hour for which she prepared.

As child, she knew what was expected
To love, obey, and to be protected
Now comes a time when this will change
Her place among us will never be the same…

The songs went on forever, far longer than Juno ever remembered them lasting in all the other years she had seen the Rites. She could feel her legs going numb and the snake coiling in her stomach as the panic set in. She could sense Amy shifting back and forth slightly beside her, but she could not tear her eyes away from Obasan to look.

She had never felt so strange. It was as though the chants had intoxicated her, though not enough to soften the vice in her belly. Not enough to ignore the tiny, burning pinpricks that nibbled at every inch of her skin, making her aware of just how many people were looking at her. Everyone in the valley was standing in the main square. No one ever missed the Rites. Everyone was looking up at the platform. At her.

Biting her lip, she tried to dry her sweaty palms on her robe without making too much movement. Before she knew it, they were latched onto the fabric, trembling like mad as the snake threatened to choke the breath right out of her.

Suddenly, the drums abruptly changed, the throbbing beat bringing her to her feet before she could even register what was going on. Her feet were moving, as were those of the other five girls. They met in the center and joined palms as Obasan said a final prayer and hobbled off stage.

As the music picked up, there was barely time for a final exchange of glances before the decisive drum beat made them push away from each other, spinning out towards the edges of the platform, skirts whirling about them like wings in flight. Her hands followed the motion of the melody. Her feet stamped in time with the beat. Everything became a blur.

Details blazed by. A flash from an ornament in Vernail’s hair. A brushing sensation as Ira swept past her, spinning gracefully and clapping her hands. The noise of the crowd faded. Juno could sense the other five newly made women moving about her, in the dance that they had practised ever since the boys had successfully finished their trials. It was a test of their ability to work seamlessly in unison. To appear graceful and poised as every woman should. The words sounded hollow in Juno’s mind. Shonna had repeated them so many times that they had lost most of their meaning.

Thank the Gods that her feet knew what she was supposed to be doing.

They met in the circle, linking hands and skipping forward, before using each other as a springboard to push off and spin out, she barely managed to keep her footing as an enormous thudding noise made the very air vibrate.

Skidding to a halt, Juno gaped at the undulating shape that had appeared on the southern horizon.

“Madrion…” she whispered, too stunned to even notice Allison colliding with her. There was no mistaking the magenta wings that sparkled in the mid-morning sunlight as the Dragon Madrion’s serpentine body twisted and withered, tormented by something unseen. Spurts of flame could be seen flashing at her maw and her wings flared at random moments, making her course erratic. Something was terribly wrong.

Juno strained her eyes, looking in vain for the familiar waving figure who usually sat right at the base of Madrion’s neck, secure in the saddle thatTerrance and Lloren had given him so long ago.

A shout went up from the southern ridge and the gong frantically began to beat.

“Mackelien!”

“Mackelien is returning!”

“He’s back! The God Child is back!”

“Already?!”

Juno barely listened to the excited babble around her as she stared at the great creature that was rapidly approaching the village, showing no signs of stopping.

Where’s Mackelien? She thought beseechingly, her body trembling as Madrion closed in on the village, her flight less erratic.

She could see now that the Dragon’s amber gaze was fixed on her, front limbs were outstretched, ready to snatch her up. Juno couldn’t run. She locked eyes with Madrion, trying to see. Trying to understand. Conjuring up a mental image of her brother, she felt her mind cry out uselessly. Where is he?

An explosion of light, sound and smell rocked her conscience. Spiralling, chaotic images overwhelmed her as the stench of blood and burning flesh besieged her nose, making her stomach heave. Clashes of swords rang about her ears, driving her to her knees. A final shout of fear and a dying gasp were the last thing she heard before blackness over took her.