The Call of the Beachwick

Chapter 17: The Council of Sisters

Aurelia didn't know how long she was out, but when she finally came to, she was disoriented and lying on a soft embrace of down that cradled her body. The bed's embrace, warm and inviting, was a comfort she might have enjoyed in any other circumstance, had it not been for the relentless throbbing at the base of her skull. Gently probing the source of her discomfort, she attempted to recall the events that led her here, wherever here was. Before she could get very far in unravelling the details that eluded her like shadows in the night, a voice called out across the room breaking her concentration.

"Sister Naomi...," it whispered.

Aurelia turned to find she was not alone. Next to her sat an elderly satyr, her face etched with genuine concern. Tenderly, the woman reached out and rubbed Aurelia's forehead with the back of her hand. There was kindness in the woman's clouded eyes, but still Aurelia could feel unease. Yet still, even though the presence of the woman in such circumstances might have evoked discomfort, amidst her vulnerability, Aurelia instinctively sensed that the satyr harbored no ill intentions.

"Staukire?" Aurelia recalled allowing the name of the satyr to roll off the tip of her tongue.

Staukire turned away in embarrassment, her cheeks reddening at the tips. "Manners, please Matriarch. They are the rules by which we live by."

Aurelia thought to argue, but Bidant's voice echoed through her head further aggravating the throbbing inside. "Heed the call of the Matriarchy," it said with a ring, further distorting her. Both were enough to make her feel sick. Instead, she mumbled an apology to the woman she barely knew.

"I'm sorry Matron Staukire, please forgive me. It seems I've taken quite a blow to the head."

Staukire smiled, and Aurelia could tell she found the apology satisfying. She waited a moment for the satyr to say more, but when she didn't, she took the opportunity to look around the room marveling in its simplicity.

"Can you tell me where I am or how I got here?" she asked. She wasn't expecting much of an answer given the quietness of the room, but at the very least she assumed it wouldn't hurt. To her surprise, Staukire nodded enthusiastically.

"The Council of Sisters."

Aurelia started to say something but stopped completely drawing a blank. Several times she found herself silently repeating the phrase as she made short motions with the tips of her lips. At some point she realized she must have looked like a fish out of water and decided it would be better to use her injury to hide her ignorance.

"Matron Staukire, I ask you to forgive me yet again. I must have got hit harder than I thought, because I can't recall a council."

"I will fetch the healer for you Matriarch. We can't have our leader forgetting her cohort. Imagine the scandal." Staukire started to move, but Aurelia grabbed her frail hand forcing her to stay. She worried the older woman might have taken it as some sort of slight, or at the very least resisted, but the moment their hands touched, Staukire completely submitted to her and sat back down pursing her lips.

"Perhaps, for now, it would be best for me to see the council," she said easing her own tension with a squeeze of her hand. The elder satyr gave a weak squeeze of her own that reminded her of the way her mother would sometimes comfort her. As she did, she called out across the room.

"Sister Zita, Sister Naomi wishes to see you."

Naomi?

"Wait a minute, I think you have me confused with..." Aurelia trailed. She didn't get a chance to finish her thought as the three female satyrs that had flanked her on the dance floor entered the room looking like they had just left a battle. Sweat and grime caked to each of their bodies and each one carried a look of exhaustion mixed with genuine concern.