Water swirled around her as Callista frantically struggled to get to the surface. She screamed at the waters, and then struggled to follow the bubbles rising to the surface but could not seem to swim upwards. Gritting her teeth in determination she pulled at the water with strong strokes, but it was as if something from below was dragging her inexorably downwards. Her movements became weaker and weaker and what little headway she had made was quickly lost as she tired, her body sinking slowly to the dark depths. Starved of oxygen, her eyelids fluttered and her vision turned to blackness, and as the cold water flooded into her lungs, her body went limp, she let the darkness claim her.
With a choking scream Callista sat bolt upright in her bed, sucking in a lungful of air before coughing it out and sucking in another. Her heart racing madly, she looked frantically around her, but all she saw was the familiar lines of her room barely visible in the darkness of the early morning. A cool breeze from the sea blew through her window, but her naked body was covered in a sheen of sweat and the sheet that had lain over her was as wet as if it had been dipped in the stream that ran alongside her house.
“That dream again.” She covered her eyes with the palms of her hands and rubbed the sweat from her face before taking in several deep breaths. Gradually she felt her heart rate begin to slow a little. Throwing the sodden sheet to one side, Callista got up from her bed and walked over to the window to gaze out towards the sea. She could just see through the trees to where the waves broke against the shore, the white foam illuminated by the full moon, and if she strained her ears she could just hear the roar of the breakers amidst the chaotic trilling of the early morning birdsong coming from the trees. It was early still, and the sun would not be above the horizon for another hour at least, but Callista was wide awake now and she felt the call of the ocean. She reached for the linen skirt she had discarded the night before and wrapped it around her as she made for the door before securing it around her narrow waist with a strip of leather. Once done she left the house and broke into an easy jog, heading through the trees, following the stream that would take her to the beach. Her feet kicked up clouds of sandy soil as she ran, the melodious bird song above her changing to calls of alarm as she passed underneath, scaring the birds away from their perches.
The breeze coming off the sea cooled her hot skin as she stood watching the waves crashing against the shore. A shiver went through her as the sweat cooled and dried, bringing out goose pimples. Callista rubbed her bare arms and hugged them to her naked chest.
“I don’t fear you water. You don’t scare me,” she thought. With a determined expression on her face she swiftly shed her skirt again and ran down to the water, plunging in head first as soon as the water hit her knees. The coolness of the sea enveloped her entirely as she ducked under the water to avoid the waves that crashed towards her. Breaking the surface again, Callista pulled at the water with strong stokes of her arms, until she gradually passed the breakers and swam on into the calmer waters beyond. Swimming more steadily now, she delighted in the feeling of the water all over her body, cleansing every part of her and cooling her blood. Taking a breath, she dived down and then peered with squinted eyes down into the depths, her vision clouded by the salty water. Nothing lurked there to pull her to the depths that she could see, but Callista felt the first waves of panic begin as she looked down into the inky blackness of the water beneath. Returning swiftly to the surface, she sucked in a breath of air and swam as quickly as she could back towards the shore. She emerged from the waves out of breath with her heart racing, her arms and legs shaking with the cold and the effort. Callista brushed the water from her arms and legs with firm stokes of her hands and then pulled her long black hair over one shoulder and wrung out the water before twisting it into a coil and knotting it at the nape of her neck. She was just about to retie her skirt around her waist when she heard the soft crunch of foot steps on the sand behind her. Wheeling around she let out a small scream at the sight of a figure standing immediately behind her.
“Pig!” she spat, slapping the figure on the arm, “You frightened me.” The figure laughed and reached down for the skirt that had fallen to the floor again.
“Here sister, you might need this to keep off the chill of the morning breeze!” Callista snatched it from him and retied it around her waist before standing with her hands on her hips, an accusing stare aimed at her brother.
“What are you doing here so early anyway Aiolos? The sun is not even up.” He shrugged and sat down on the sand, patting the space next to him.
“I couldn’t sleep. Maybe I’m a little nervous about tomorrow.” Callista sat down beside him and Aiolos put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her to his bare chest with smooth muscular arms and embracing her in a bear hug. She felt his body heat warm her skin and huddled closer to him. She glanced up at his face, his dark brown eyes focused on the horizon where the sun would soon appear, the gentle line of his lips turned up at the corners in a faint smile, the black tresses of hair framing his face and falling down onto his chest. She brushed a lock of his hair from where it was tickling her nose and then twirled it around her finger absently as she had when she was a small child.
“You don’t need to compete Aiolos. No one says you have to and no one would think less of you if you chose not to.” He shook his head.
“No I want to. I am of the age and all my kinsmen will be there. Besides, Father would have expected it.” Callista released the lock of hair, looked down to the floor and began trailing her fingers in the sand absently.
“Father is not here Aiolos.” She said quietly. Aiolos frowned.
“Yes he is Callista. I can feel him watching over me sometimes and I want to make him proud.” Callista pulled away from him and looked into his face. His eyes held the sadness that she felt inside when she thought of her father. The pain of the loss was new; the earthquake that had taken his life was only six months ago, and now Aiolos was all she had left in the world of her family. Their mother had died giving birth to Callista.
“He was already proud of you, but he is dead now, and anyway, what about me? He would want you to look after me wouldn’t he? Surely that’s more important than proving yourself in some silly contest” Aiolos looked into her face and smiled sympathetically. He reached up and pinched her cheek.
“It’s not a ‘silly contest’. Even the king’s son will compete and anyway, if I win we will be rich. Besides, I do look after you, and I always will. Well, until you find a husband that is.”
“But how can you look after me if you die?!” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.
“Cal, I’m not going to…” but not waiting to hear what he would say, Callista jumped to her feet and ran back towards the house. Aoilos watched her go but did not try to stop her.
When the sun had risen, Aoilos walked back to the house from his silent vigil on the beach and went to the food store to begin to pack the food they would need to sustain them on their walk to the palace. Callista sauntered around the corner and squatted down against the wall watching him.
“Remember to pack some dates.” Aiolos smiled.
“I will,” he said, wrapping some dates in an oil cloth and adding them to the bag. He glanced at his sister. “Are you nearly ready? We need to get going if we want to get to the ceremony on time.” With a sigh Callista rose and went back into the house.
When she finally emerged sometime later, Aiolos was waiting by the door, tapping his foot impatiently. When he saw his sister though, he smiled in appreciation. She had put on a new belt; one she had made herself, decorated with shells collected from the beach. She had also changed her short skirt for a more formal long skirt made up of several layers of different coloured linen that reached her ankles, and with a smile he recognised it as their mother’s. His little sister had grown so much this last year that the skirt fitted her perfectly now. Around her shoulders she wore a simple linen jacket that covered her upper arms and back, her exposed chest showing the first signs of approaching womanhood. Her long black hair had been oiled to make it shine, and was held back from her face with a red band, then gathered at the nape of her neck, before being bound at intervals with bronze wire to create a long segmented black snake that fell down her back and swayed as she walked. Aoilos whistled in appreciation.
“Are you on the hunt for a husband already sister?!” Callista snorted and snatched her cloak for the evening from his hand.
“I am much too young for marriage! Don’t think you can get rid of me so soon,” and with that she strode away from him towards to path that would lead to the city of Akkanoss. Aoilos grabbed the bag of food and his own cloak and ran after her.
The walk to Akkanoss took most of that day, and by the time they rounded the corner and stood on the hill which overlooked the city, the sun was getting low in the sky and their food and water rations were almost gone. Situated on top of a hill, the palace rose above the labyrinth of streets and houses at its base, and looked out over the undulating hills of trees, scrub and vineyards that surrounded the city. The white of the palace’s stone walls shone orange as the light of the late afternoon sun caught them, making it seem as if the whole palace were on fire.
Along with others that had joined them on the road to the city, they descended into the maze of simple stone and mud brick buildings that surrounded the palace. The smells of human habitation filled Callista’s nose and made her wrinkle it in distaste; the stench of hides being cured in the sun, the sickly smell of rancid food that had been sweating in the heat of the day, the acrid odour of unwashed bodies, and the fog of smoke from the many wood fires. The overpowering smells were unfamiliar to her after their months of living by the sea, and the noises that emanated from the buildings seemed very loud to her ears after the peace and quiet of their coastal house set amongst trees. Callista turned to Aiolos to complain but she saw on his face the excitement of being in the city again. They had moved away to be closer to the sea at Callista’s request following the sudden spate of earthquakes that had plagued the city and killed their father, but Aiolos obviously missed the city. His brown eyes sparkled in excitement as he looked at the confusing mass of people and buildings around him.
His excitement was shared by that of the people of Akkanoss too it seemed. The festival of harvest was a major event, and people flooded in from miles around to celebrate it at the palace, together with the people of Akkanoss. The festival would last for three days and in that time the people would have their chance to forget about their usual lives and indulge in an orgy of feasting, drinking and dancing. Everywhere Callista could hear the sounds of laughter, and as they headed through the streets she marvelled at the sights of the people dressed in their finest clothes – colourful jackets and long layered skirts for the women, bright kilts of different coloured fabrics for the men. Men and women alike had curled and braided their hair, decorating their long black tresses with strings of beads and wire ropes of gold and bronze. Many of the more powerful women were encrusted with jewellery – delicate necklaces, bracelets and anklets of gold and bronze, precious stones and shells.
Callista stared at them all with wide eyes, at times unconsciously brushing down her own rather plain skirt and tugging nervously on her hair. Being an orphan from a poor family she could never hope to own such treasures, unlike these women who were probably married to rich traders and merchants working out of the port of Amnissos a few miles away. Like their father, Aiolos was a stone mason, one of many who worked on the palace, and as such he would never be rich, although he would never be short of work given the frequency of earthquakes that damaged the city on a regular basis. Just ten years ago, when Callista had been a small child, a mighty earthquake had destroyed the palace of Akkanoss and many of the buildings that surrounded it. It was often hard to imagine now looking at the sprawling maze of buildings that had quickly sprung up again from the rubble, but here and there were the signs of rebuilding going on; unfinished walls, bare brick instead of the colourful render that would eventually cover them, and mounds of rubble where a building was yet to be rebuilt.
Rounding a corner, the palace came into sight again and they made for the steps that took them up to the western courtyard. As Callista and Aiolos walked towards the steps, they joined the slow moving throng of people, all heading in the same direction. With every side street they passed, more and more people joined them until Callista was crushed between the many bodies and could hardly move her arms or body except to walk slowly forwards, carried along by the river of people. Aiolos put his arm around her and pulled her closer to avoid getting separated in the jostling mass, until they finally reached the wide stone steps and staggered up them, taking care not to trip amidst the crush of people around them. Once at the summit of the steps, the people began to dissipate a little and Callista breathed a sigh of relief. Looking around her she found herself standing upon a huge stone courtyard, with the towering walls of the western wing of the palace rising up to her right. The palace as a whole was nowhere near finished, but the masons had made astonishing progress on the western wing in the ten years since the last major earthquake, and the smaller earthquake of six months before had caused only minimal damage, which was testament to the skills their masons possessed now, following the developments in building techniques learned from the peoples they traded with in more distant lands.
With a haunted look Callista glanced towards the part of the wall which concealed the room where her father had been working. The wall had been repaired now, but Callista knew what had lain beyond it – a pile of fallen masonry, a dark red stain where her father had lain bleeding beneath the rubble. It was engrained on her memory. Aiolos saw the direction of her gaze and pulled her arm in the other direction.
“Come on, let’s go and find somewhere to sit.” They headed towards the far end of the courtyard and settled down on the floor to await the start of the ceremony.
The continuous stream of people carried on pouring over the top of the steps until the edges of the huge central court were slowly concealed behind the crowds of people that gathered there. Other people had found their way up onto the roofs of buildings that surrounded the courtyard and were perched there with their legs hanging over the edge, and high up above them Callista could make out the faces of people in the windows of the buildings that made up the western wing.
“Slaves working in the palace no doubt,” thought Callista, “or maybe acolytes to the priestess.”
Just as the last few people were taking their places around the courtyard, a hush descended over the crowds as the priestess, surrounded by her attendants, appeared in the West Entrance doorway. Everyone watched in silence as they headed for the centre of the courtyard. The attendants surrounded the priestess; two men in front, their deep copper skin oiled and gleaming in the sunlight, their kilts startlingly white against the darkness of their skin, necklaces of gold around their necks, their long hair hanging down to their waists. Behind the priestess walked four women holding pitchers, clothed identically in long red layered skirts held at their waists with wide embroidered belts, a small jacket of sheer linen dyed blue barely covering their shoulders and breasts, their braided hair glistening as the sun shone on the golden bands that held the intricate braids in place.
The priestess walked in the middle of them and held her audience captivated despite the beauty of the attendants that surrounded her. It was as if the Goddess walked on the earth. As she walked out into the amber light of the early evening, the sun caught the gold jewellery on her ankles, wrists and neck and made them shine out, sending out rays of light that dazzled the people as they looked at her. As she walked closer, Callista stared at the brightly coloured layers of her skirt that swayed hypnotically as she walked, and at her jacket which glinted in the light where the golden thread was woven through. An elaborate headdress of gold sat on her head, the tall feathers decorating the top swaying in the breeze and nodding as she walked. The black tresses of her hair were oiled, decorated with gold and beads and fell to either side of her face and down her back in tight ringlets. The skin of her face, arms and breasts was oiled and shining, but next to the coppery skin of her attendants Callista could see that it had been whitened with kaolin, giving her an otherworldly appearance. A paste of galena had been applied to her eyes making them stand out and appear elongated and feline, and when she looked in Callista’s direction, she felt as though those eyes saw all her inner thoughts and intimate secrets. Callista looked down quickly, but when she peered up again the priestess was looking elsewhere.
The party came to a halt in the centre of the courtyard and the priestess surveyed the crowd serenely.
“My people!” she called out to the assembled horde. “Following such terrors and disasters that have plagued us these last ten years, the Earth has been good to us since the Festival of Planting. The ground has been still. The walls of the palace are rising. The crops have been plentiful. The palace stores groan with the produce of the people. The seas have been calm. Trade has been profitable. The Goddess is truly content with her people!” A great cheer went up from the crowd and the priestess surveyed them with a small smile turning up the corners of her rouged lips. She raised her hands and the cheers gradually died down. “Here begins the Festival of Harvest.” With that the crowd erupted into cheers again and when they subsided, the priestess turned to the first of her female attendants and reached into the first jar. Withdrawing her hand, she spread some wheat grains onto the ground to the north of her.
“We celebrate the Goddess of the grain,” she called out, her voice echoing around the courtyard. From the second jar she withdrew a handful of water and sprinkled it over the ground to the east.
“We celebrate the Goddess of the water.” Reaching into the third jar she scattered soil on the ground to the south.
“We celebrate the Goddess of the earth.” Finally, she took a handful of ash from the fourth jar and threw it into the air to the west.
“We celebrate the Goddess of the air.” As the people watched, a sudden gust of wind picked up the ash and swept it high up into the air above them. Callista shielded her eyes from the sun as she followed the grey cloud upwards and watched it slowly dissipate. A murmur went up from the crowd – this was a good sign from the Goddess. The priestess watched the ash and then looked around the courtyard again.
“Let the food and wine be shared amongst us all. Let there be dancing and singing. This is the time when the people come together once more, to renew friendships and form new bonds. Tonight will be feasting and music. At first light we will perform the ceremony of the bull.” Amidst the resounding cheers of the crowds, she turned serenely and headed back towards the palace doorway, the fringes on her skirt swirling around her, the feathers nodding, followed by her attendants. The crowd cheered until the priestess and her party were out of sight and then the cheers subsided and they slowly started to move around the courtyard.
“Come on sister, I’m starving!” Aiolos pulled her by the arm and they ran back towards the steps to avoid the growing stream of people already heading in the same direction. Running down the steps and on into the maze of buildings that made up the town of Akkannos, they headed towards the smells of food and the first sounds of music that were emanating from the market square ahead. Callista’s mouth started watering at the sweet smells of roasting meat that filled the air and then screamed in delight as Aiolos swept her up in his arms and threw her over his shoulder.
“You’re too slow sister!” he laughed as he ran with her bouncing on his shoulder, punching his bare back with her fists.
When they reached the square it was already quite crowded. In the centre there were already some people dancing to the music. Harps and pipes sang out a sweet song that followed the beat of the drums, sweeping the people there into a frenzy of dancing. Some laughed and stamped their feet to the music, others swirled each other around, sweeping their arms up and spinning around, their faces red with exertion and wide smiles on their faces. To one side there were several fires over which whole pigs were roasting on spits, and people moved through the crowds with baskets of breads and cheeses and dates and figs. People scooped out cups of wine from rows of large jars that had been rolled down from the palace stores for the festival, and Aiolos quickly got himself and Callista some, draining his first cup and reaching for another before Callista had even had one sip. By the looks of things, others had been there for some time already, their speech slurred and their eyelids heavy as they staggered around the square.
Callista and Aiolos stood by the side chewing on the roasted pork they had bought and watching the dancing and the people around them. Casually scanning the dancers, Callista noticed a girl looking in their direction. She nudged Aiolos.
“You’ve caught someone’s eye,” she hissed and pointed towards the girl. Aoilos followed the direction of her finger and saw a pretty girl staring shyly at him, her face red with the effort of the dancing, a sultry smile on her lips, the skirts of her dress held in her hands revealing slender brown ankles and delicate feet that still moved slightly to the music. As soon as he met her eye she wheeled away from the rest of the dancers and ran to one of the market stalls, casting a sly glance over her shoulder to make sure he was following. Aoilos grinned and handed the rest of his meat to Callista.
“I’ll be back in a little while. Stay here.” Callista groaned as she watched him head in the direction of the girl. That would be the last she would see of him for hours no doubt.
She looked around at all the strange people. Seeing no one she knew, she finished the last few morsels of meat and threw the bone to a dog that ambled its way through the crowds, before glancing around for any sign of Aiolos and then throwing his away too. Wiping her greasy hands on the rough wool cloak that she had with her, she wandered closer to the dancers. Being out on the coast in such a secluded house, Callista didn’t get to spend much time around people. She had become quite isolated and, apart from Aiolos, she didn’t really talk to anyone anymore. When Aiolos went away to work for days on end, she spent days on her own, tending the fields and walking along the coast or following the streams into the mountains, listening to the sounds of nature all around her. The only people she came into contact with were the traders on the occasional ships that docked in the bay near her house on their way to the harbour at Amnisos, or shepherds bringing their flocks to the grassy plains near their home. Callista didn’t much care for the company of shepherds. They were preoccupied with their flocks and did not make for good conversation. The men on the ships were far more interesting. She sometimes brought them food from her stores and in exchange they told grand tales of their voyages to distant lands and of trading with the strange people there.
One young sailor, only a few years older than herself, told her of how they had journeyed to a land with a mighty river running through it and an endless desert to either side. They had taken their boat down the river and met a powerful king with amazing riches of gold and ivory and exotic woods. He told her of how they spoke a strange language there and how he saw men there that had skin the colour of charcoal. Callista had listened intently to this and then said to the boy that she wished she could join a boat and sail to these lands too. When the boy heard this he had laughed and told her such an adventure was not for girls.
“The world outside this island is not like the life you know. In those strange lands the Goddess won’t protect you. Girls like you would be bought and sold and made to work all your life as the slaves of evil men. I have seen it.” Callista shook her head and told the boy she would dress as a man, but the boy had laughed again and told her that she was silly. This had made Callista cross, and although now part of her thought that maybe what he said was true, she still felt drawn to the ocean and the adventures it had to hold.
Through a gap in the crowds Callista caught a glimpse of Aiolos. He was hand in hand with the girl whirling her around in a circle to the music. The tempo of the music increased and the girl screamed with laughter as he spun her faster and faster until she collapsed into his arms, yielding to his passionate kiss and embrace. Callista snorted in disgust. Turning away from the music, she headed out of the square, down the street that would lead back to the palace, in search of a more peaceful spot.
The streets outside of the square were deserted and Callista found the growing silence comforting. Shivering in the chill of the evening, she shook out her woollen cloak and swung it around her shoulders. As she walked along the street she fiddled with the clasp on her shoulder that would hold the cloak closed, but the bronze mechanism seemed jammed and would not close. Callista fiddled with it as she walked until, when turning a corner without looking, she collided with someone head on with such force that they both fell to the ground in a heap. Callista sat up groaning, rubbing her forehead, which was already swelling up into a fairly impressive lump. Opening her eyes, she peered into the gloom of the street. Ahead of her she could just make out the shape of another figure lying on the floor.
“Are you alright?” she asked as she crawled over to it. As she got closer she saw that it was a boy, about her own age, lying perfectly still, gazing into the sky above him with an intense unblinking stare. His hair was cut shorter that most boys his age, his curls fanned out around his head on the dusty ground where he lay. Callista gave him a cursory evaluation and, in the faint light of the street, judged that he would probably be a little taller than herself, with scrawny legs and arms that were covered in bruises and scratches. Callista squinted and moved her face closer to his in order to get a better look at him. From what she could see, he was quite beautiful in a slightly feminine way. He had incredibly long eye lashes and full lips and the bones of his slender face gave him an angular appearance that, together with his enormous eyes, reminded Callista of the deer than ran in the woods near her home. Callista observed him in silence for a while and then nudged his shoulder gently.
“I said, are you alright?” she asked softly. The boy turned his head slowly and lay there gazing at her with his huge eyes. “Are you deaf? Can you hear me?” Callista waved her hand in front of the boy’s blank stare but got no response. She sat back on her heels in confusion. “Maybe he’s really hurt,” she thought.
Suddenly, coming from the direction of the square, she heard someone calling a name. The boy’s expression changed then to one of fear and all at once he scrambled to his feet, startling Callista who fell over backwards and sat staring up in astonishment at the boy. The boy seemed nervous and was looking towards the sound with his body tensed as if he was about to flee, but feared to do so. The calls got closer until a huge man appeared out of the gloom; the muscles of his upper arms almost as wide as Callista’s waist, and every inch of skin, with the exception of his roughly shaven face, coated in thick black hair. With a growl he strode over to the boy and grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and pulled him up. The boy called out in pain and struggled in the man’s grip.
“There you are, idiot! How many times have I told you not to wander off!” The man swung his other hand at the boy and clipped him heavily over the back of the head. The boy cowered and slumped down towards the ground although the man’s grip kept him from falling completely. Suddenly a second man appeared from a side street; this one was younger, about the same age as Aiolos, and seemed a little out of breath.
“You’ve found him!” spluttered the second man, leaning over and putting his hands on his knees while he caught his breath. “Father, I’m sick of this. Why can’t we just lock him up?” The larger man grunted and then made as if to slap the boy again. The boy cowered away even further and hung now in the man’s grip like a wet rag hung out to dry.
“You know how his mother feels about that. You just need to keep a better eye on him. If you weren’t so busy chasing girls he wouldn’t get away.” The second man threw his hands up in frustration.
“But I shouldn’t have to be his nursemaid. This is my last night with my kinsmen before the contest.”
“There will be plenty of other nights for you to drink and fornicate with your kinsmen. I have other things to attend to. He is your responsibility for tonight, we agreed this.” The younger man kicked at the dirt petulantly and shrugged. “Come on,” said the father, “let’s get this mongrel back to his mother.” The man lifted the boy then and threw him forward with such force that, as he released the grip on his arm, the boy was sent sprawling into the dirt again. The younger man laughed at this and sauntered over to him, aiming a kick at the boy’s side. As soon as Callista saw this she leapt up from her position, where she had been hidden in the shadows, and threw herself onto the back of the younger man, throwing her arms around his throat whilst gripping with her legs and snarling like a wildcat. With a shout of surprise, he grabbed hold of his assailant and threw her over his shoulder so that she landed with a thump on the ground. Winded for a second time, Callista lay on the floor groaning whilst the man stared down at her in surprise.
“Look at this! The little brat was with a girl!” At this the father walked over, reached down and picked Callista up by her arm. He held her up before him, her feet dangled in mid air and her body twisting slightly as she struggled.
“What have we here?” Callista whimpered and kicked her legs in an effort to get away. The pain in her shoulder was piercing and she could feel the delicate flesh of her arm bruising in his vice-like grip. The younger man walked away from the boy and approached her, looked her up and down and then poked her in the ribs.
“Little girls like you shouldn’t wander off alone on nights like this. It isn’t safe. With a sneer curling his upper lip the younger man reached up and pinched her cheek hard with his fingers. “You don’t know what will happen.” Laughing at the whimper of fear she uttered, the father shook her a little as she hung there, causing pain to shoot through her arm from her shoulder; it felt like hot pokers were being forced into her flesh and Callista cried out, tear leaking from her eyes.
All at once the ground beneath them shivered. The huge man released Callista in surprise and she fell heavily to the ground. Rubbing her sore shoulder she glanced over her shoulder at the boy. He was sitting now, facing her, with his eyes closed and his brow furrowed in concentration, streaks running down on his cheeks where his tears had washed away the dirt. Callista watched as his jaw clenched slightly, the muscles there flexing under the skin, and at that same instant, the ground beneath them shivered again. The father and son looked about them in horror as a mist of dust rose from the street and loose bricks began to topple from some of the more dilapidated houses. The ground quivered again and then with a groan it heaved beneath them. The father and son staggered on their feet and had to fight to stand upright. Looking towards the boy, the younger man shouted out in alarm and strode over with clenched fists and, pulling his arm back, he swung a vicious punch at the boy’s head. With eyes closed, the boy did nothing to avoid the punch; the jolt of it snapped his head to one side and he slumped heavily onto the floor. Immediately the tremors stopped.
Callista could hear that the music in the square behind them had stopped also and there were sounds of alarm coming from the people there. The father walked over to the younger man who still stood over the boy with fists still clenched. They observed him for a few moments.
“Pick him up and take him back to the house, and this time, watch him,” the father snarled at the younger man. Without complaint the younger man picked up the boy and swung him over his shoulder. “And as for you…” the father turned and reached down, taking hold of Callista’s chin in a massive hand and pulling her upright so that he could push his face into hers. “If you say anything to anyone about the boy… I’ll kill you.” He spat out the last few words with such venom that tiny droplets of spittle flew out of his mouth and landed on Callista’s lips. She shrank away from the foul stench of his breath, but his grip on her jaw tightened and she felt him begin to lift her by it until she was struggling to keep her balance on the tips of her toes.
“HEY”! Let her go!” All of a sudden there came a shout from behind them and the huge man released his grip on Callista a little. Callista turned her head slightly and saw to her relief that Aiolos was running down the street towards them. The younger man dropped the still lifeless body of the boy and stepped up to confront Aiolos, puffing his chest out and standing with his hands on his hips.
“What business is it of yours, mason?” he challenged. Aiolos ran straight up to him and pushed him hard in the chest so that the man staggered backwards a little.
“That’s my sister Diadalos. Keep your filthy hands off her!” The younger man recovered his stance and then pushed him back.
“Keep the little whore under control and my hands won’t need to be anywhere near her… Unless I feel like having a piece of younger flesh that is.” With a roar of rage Aiolos launched himself at the Diadalos and landed a glancing blow on his chin before the larger man released Callista and stepped between them.
“That’s enough!” He thundered, and then turned to Diadalos. “You need to save your strength for tomorrow.” With a venomous look at Aiolos who stood protectively in front of Callista with fists clenched, the man pulled Diadalos away and then walked over to the boy. Lifting him onto his shoulder as if he were no heavier than a bag of corn, he headed down the street away from the square, pushing a quietly protesting Diadalos in front of him. Aiolos and Callista watched the men go in silence until they disappeared into the darkness.
“Come on sister. Let’s go and find somewhere to sleep.” Aiolos picked up Callista’s cloak from where it had fallen to the floor and draped it carefully over her shoulders before putting an arm around her and walking back towards the square.
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When you describe Callista putting her skirt on and going for the door, it is an awkward sentence to read. ”...around her as…” should be “around herself.” ”...made for the door…” is not a very descriptive verb to use, which is a shame as everything has been nicely descriptive up to this point.
Showing Callista going for a swim after having a terrible drowning-related dream is a good way to show her strength of personality.
Since she is outside, saying that her skirt had “fallen to the floor” is not quite the right description, I would think. Maybe write, “fallen to the sand.”
Although I’m not sure what kind of fantasy world you’ve set up yet, “food store” seems like an anachronism. ”Market” might be a more appropriate word. The word “store” is used again later in the priestess’ speech, where it is more obvious that you’re using the word “store” as in a “place where things are stored.” If that’s the case for the first instance then it is correct, but you might want to make it more clear.
During the dialog, there are several places where you attach the words of one character to the actions of another. This leads to a moment of confusion for the reader as he or she attempts to figure out who is actually doing the talking.
You wrote ”...frequency of earthquakes…on a regular basis.” Stating both that the earthquakes are “frequent” and “on a regular basis” is redundant.
You write that the boy is “quite beautiful in a slightly feminine way.” Usually when the word “beauty” is applied to a male, it implies feminine attractiveness, so the “slightly feminine way” statement may be better left off.
As you your “main query” I found this chapter to be somewhat interesting. I think you could have done a lot more to build the world and society that your characters inhabit. You already did some good groundwork with the religious ritual at the beginning of the festival, and with the memories that Callista had of speaking with the sailor. I think you could add to that foundation by including more minor ritual to daily activities, and incorporating religious terms and oaths into every day speech. In modern American English, for example, many people use the oath “Jesus Christ” in response to surprise or frustration even if they are not Christian. Having a more intricate world and society is what keeps me interested.
I’ll start by saying your beginning sequence with the dream was excellent and your end was also quite exciting. I like the mystery of not knowing whether it was the young boy who caused the tremors. You had great character development and description, i got a great sense of the characters and what they looked like.
At times though I do think that you go almost to far into detail, not something I’ve come across before. I can’t really tell you how or where to stop doing that either, this could just be a personal thing.
I also noticed that you spell Aiolos in two different way quite a few times
‘Aiolos’ and ‘Aoilos’
Overall I think you have a great concept that was quite exciting
Thanks for sharing
Jodie
Plenty happens in this story to keep the reader interested e.g. the precise descriptions of the clothes the people are wearing. The Goddess is and interesting phenomenon in the story with special reference by way of the title. I particularly liked your description of one young man as having a face like a deer. The story has a very Greek flavour and their are many facets of ancient Greek society you could exploit here: the prostitution around the temples, the rampant bi sexuality. You could write a very good book.
First and foremost let me say I enjoyed reading this “chapter”. Secondly I really believe this is more than enough for one chapter and could actually be split around “This had made Callista cross, and although now part of her thought that maybe what he said was true, she still felt drawn to the ocean and the adventures it had to hold.”
I really think you have some great ideas, and are talented enough to flow them together for a good read, but there is so much jam packed into this “chapter” i really think you would do yourself a favor by expanding on certain ideas and breaking it up a little. Nevertheless I look forward to reading more.
Callista, is that suppose to be a Greek name? Nice descriptions, needs to build some tension, needs to entice the reader to ask why, what is happening, in other words it needs some sort of contradiction that builds mystery. That is just a simple impression, nice writing.
Scaring the “other”(add the word other) birds away” (pg2)back, her exposed chest showing the first signs of approaching womanhood. EXPOSED HER BUDDING BREASTS—THE FIRST SIGNS OF WOMANHOOD. “CHEST”SEEMS TO MASCULINE GREAT DIALOGUE SMOOTH TRANSITIONS EASY FLOW OF WORDS.the acrid odour of unwashed bodies,: ACRID DESCRIBES A SMOKEY OR SUPHURIC SCENT. MAYBE YOU COULD FIND ANOTHER WORD. WHY NOT JUST SAY THE SWEATY ODOR OF THE UNWASHED BODIES. Jewelry is mispelled.
Interesting characters, not boring. The earthquake idea gives the story a good flavor and adds depth to the plot. The red stain on the ground is a good , but sad addition. The reader has been given a glimpse into the past and also an explanation what happened to Calista’s father. The clothes the headpeices, the high buildings, very good descriptions of an ancient city and its people. Celebrating the goddess of grain. This is a good addition.The ancient greeks, crete and other ancient cities worshiped dieties and the grain. They called these “offerings of the mother earth” Also the etrucains celebrated mother earth and a women because they were life givers. Many ancient artifacts were found in Greece that were shaped like the womb.”The palace stores groan” tHE PALACE STORE IS FULL or bursting—SIMPLE BUT STILL EFFECTIVE. What distant lands? The reader would like to know where the sailors have been. Would she wipe her greasy hands on the woolen cloak? That seems too rude. I know she is a bit boyish, but you might revise it. Things were to hard to keep clean in those days. I didn’t like this part.
Ok, i love this. It has everything so far. Good characters, action, good descriptions, of people and places, a potential love story. Wonderful wonderful. Keep me posted and do get bust writing the next chapter. Sandi. A 10
page three you have about to retie her skirt. should be re-tie i think. as far as is there enough going on in this chapter i would say yes. its entertaining and keeps your interest. i was especially drawn in by the Aiolos character as he was talking about his fathers death in the earthquake. you also had the festival in there that should keep the readers attention. of course the meeting of the boy was intriging.
Does enough happen? Not half.
The worst thing a writer can do is bore the reader, and don’t think you have that particular problem. There’s too much material to critique here, but if I have to horribly generalize, then I would say I enjoyed the journey taken by Callista.
Your work owes a lot to the oeuvre of Philip Pullman, and I think you were dealing with the mythological and spiritual matters in a contained way. The events here are complicated and are going to get more complicated as it progresses. You exercise economy in your description which makes it accessible to read. Perhaps post smaller excerpts in future to ensure a more detailed critique from readers.
Harold_P
I gave it an eight, as it did fufill your goals: it kept me interested, but there were some flaws. the descriptions and the prose were, I felt, very well done, but the dialouge seemed a bit wooden to me, kind of fake, if you get my drift. Mind you, not all of it was, but I would take some time clearing it up to make it feel more like humans were talking, instead of avatars and life-less shells of characters.
okay i really think the use of the same word twice in this sentence is a mistake, it really dosn’t sound right at all to me.
“The breeze coming off the sea cooled her hot skin as she stood on the beach watching the waves crashing against the beach.” begining of the 4th paragraph.
I would sugest the use of the word sands instead of beach again at the end.
in the same paragraph thw word water is used ALOT to…i think it would make the read ALOT better if you could find difren words to use or wording. It dose exhost the word alot.
I like the story and the relationship between brother and sister, but the meeting Callista has with the preastes seams a bit auquored. Is it a culture where anyone can walk in to the palace…i think that needs to be explained. I think that part needs a little work.
I think after a few rereads and word changes here and there it will be quite good. It isn’t as fast paced as some storys are but i dont think it needs to be to be interesting. I would put in more about the culture to get peoples atenchion.
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