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Signs Of The Secret

Becky J. Rhush

Copyright © 2011 Becky J. Rhush

All rights reserved.

DEDICATION

To my partner in crime and love, Sabra. Also to my Mom, Dad, and Rhonda. Thanks for never giving up on me. And, above all the rest, thank You God. Without divine intervention, none of this would be possible!

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thanks so much to Keelei Czex for her amazing cover art, modeling, and awesome friendship.

Victorious warriors win first and then go to war, while defeated warriors go to war first and then seek to win.

-Sun Tzu

PROLOGUE

“If we don’t make it out now, he’s going to kill my baby!” Perseathea wheezed, running off balance through the dark tunnel behind Bartamius. Pain tore through her swollen belly. Her face flushed hot, lungs burning in the stagnant air of the underground, making it hard for her to keep up with the young man.

“Keep going!” Bartamius gritted over his shoulder, clenching her sweaty palm.

Hot throbbing dropped the girl to her knees in the sand. Heaving Perseathea up, the adolescent boy kept a frantic watch over her shoulder. “There‘s no time-”

“I can’t stop the pain….”

“They’re coming. We have to get out of the fortress. Now!”

Perseathea squeezed his hands, holding back the warmth in her eyes. “You can’t come with me, Bartamius. You have to go back.”

He looked passed her, scanning the tunnel left behind, then brought anxious eyes back down to her. “You won’t make it alone.”

“I will-“

“You won’t.”

“But they’ll kill you-”

He kept his gaze on her. Steady. Assuring. “They can’t. He needs me.”

“What about Essicka? We can’t leave her like this-”

Spurred by approaching voices, Bartamius lifted the pregnant girl into his arms. With his heart raging against his chest, he cleaved to Perseathea, staggering back into a run. Partway down the flickering halls, Perseathea’s hands tightened at his neck. He could feel her body tensing. Her sharp, short breaths. Her aching.

At the end of the dim corridor, he dropped the girl to her feet, scrambling up the dirt steps to the aperture. Manipulating the doorway masquerading as a tree trunk above ground, Bartamius ascended the dingy hole. Shuffling to his feet in the dead grass, he heaved Perseathea up into the bitter breeze of evening. With her panting and palming her knees, he hurried to unleash the horse waiting beneath the Sycamore.

Suddenly wailing, Perseathea clawed her belly, her cheeks flushed. “The baby…” her words dropped into panting, “it’s not going to wait.”

The young man lifted Perseathea with another strained grunt. “We’re almost out. Just hold on.” After one last glance at the tendrils of torch smoke escaping the tunnel, Bartamius lifted the girl partway onto the horse. “Grab hold.”

Perseathea lugged herself onto the animal, cradling her unborn child in protective arms. Voices traveled the underground again. Chasing after them.

“This way!” Came a muffled shout.

Bartamius slid in behind her, kicking the horse and launching them into a sprint down the hillside.

Perseathea squirmed in his arms, breathing hard. Hurting. It’d been two seasons she’d been with child, and at only fourteen summers in age, it weighed heavy on her frail frame. Burning squeezed her stomach, blazing the burn up her back. Into her legs. It was like nothing she had ever felt before. But more terrifying than her pain loomed a near crippling fear. Gragore sought to split her newborn in half. Would revel in it. And the warlord would be certain Perseathea witnessed it with her own eyes.

“Are you all right?” Bartamius’ words hovered warm over her cold ear.

“I don’t know.” She confessed. “The pain, it comes and goes.”

The horse urged forward at full gallop, tossing her about. She could feel Bartamius’ arms tensing around her as they hurtled down the hillside and into the first trees of the Black Cloud, a forest so named for its place on the mountain where the rain clouds hung low into its branches.

The woods at dusk were eerie. Thick and foreboding. The stink of rotting wood and decay hung on the frosty air. The dense web of leaves and vines disoriented all who ventured in. Every tree loomed haunting, shrouded in icy mist. And it was near the sun’s fall. The forest would soon be black. Inescapable.

Perseathea’s pain sliced back in, wrenching her with another series of short breaths.

“What,” her word cut short under the pain, “what about Essicka? We… we can’t leave Essicka.”

“I’ll go back after we-”

“I can’t leave her.”

“There they are!” A voice barked behind them.

Bartamius glimpsed over his shoulder. Three mounted soldiers gave chase. Black armor. War horses. A blue and purple banner flapping the wet wind. Gragore’s head of security. His three most violent and monstrous men, sent to cut Perseathea open.

Kicking desperately into his steed, Bartamius dashed through stinging limbs and a spray of wet leaves, searching the horse cut trail. The three soldiers were gaining ground, the sound of their armor clanging. Louder. Closer. Night blue and blood purple, the colors of murder in this land, growing larger.

“Halt!” One of them shouted, but the boy ignored them.

“Bartamius-” Perseathea begged, breathing hard.

“We’re going to make it. I promise.”

“Last warning, boy!”

Bartamius didn‘t look back, keeping his eyes sharp. Speeding down the steep trail, his horse side stepped the mush of rot and soil, darting into a shallow creek. Spritzing icy water over them. As the pain subsided, Perseathea eased a bit, holding tight to the horse’s tether. Her breath was coming back to her. Whatever was happening in her body faded again, but her heart still shuddered out of control. She could hear the men yelling just paces behind. The clanging of their armor. Heavy hooves pummeling mud. The sounds of death for her and her baby.

Leaning back into Bartamius’ chest, she squeezed his hand. “No matter what happens,” she urged into his ear, “know that I love you. You and Essicka.”

As soon as the words left her lips, Perseathea felt the boy’s body jolt. His arms loosened at her waist. A chill pricked over her. She turned to find his eyes stunned and glassy. His mouth gaping. The motion of the horse sliding him from her.

“Bartamius!” Double wrapping her hand in the horse’s tether, she clutched the boy’s tunic, grappling to hold him steady. He slid more and more from her white knuckled grasp, slipping the side of the saddle.

“It’s… it’s pois….” His words strained out.

“What?”

“Poisoned.”

“No!” Her arm burned, struggling to keep hold of Bartamius as he leaned into her hip. Gasping. Grappling at her waist with weak hands. And that’s when she saw it. A blotch of red staining the once white material over his shoulder blade. An arrow.

“Halt!” A soldier shouted from behind. Three men chased not ten paces back, one with a bow in his hand. The other two with swords drawn. Ready to dissect.

With one hand still knotted, and her other fighting to hold onto Bartamius, she narrowed eyes back on the forest ahead. She was heading into the deep of Black Cloud.

The deeper in, the colder it got. The mist heavier. The more tangled and thick the vines. And the sun had dropped. Darkness now soaked the forest in black. She’d be lucky to cut through on the horse path, already deep-rooted.

Twisting and turning through the dense trees, she pulled a sharp right, then another, rushing her steed headlong into a thigh deep torrent of frigid water. Spitting and coughing, she choked on the freezing water now soaking her to her waist.

She had to lose the soldiers. Had to find a place to hide. She’d never make it to Pahll-sus now. Pulling up on the muddy bank, she drew further away from the voices, somehow able to shove the wavering pain in her belly to the edge of her mind.

Eyeing the bleak river bank, she begged for a refuge to appear. Bartamius was certainly dying. The soldiers had been thrown off her pace, but not by much. She could still hear their garbled voices hiding in the dark trees beyond the rapids of the creek.

Slapping the haunch of her steed, she pushed the animal, feeling it sense her desperation. Her urgency. The horse exploded into another gallop, the cold wind stinging her with shivers. Her fingers were white and stiff, aching and cold as she struggled to clench Bartamius’ arm. The boy moaned without sense. Bleeding. Bobbing in and out of consciousness.

Teeth chattering, Perseathea balled a hard fist in the horse tethers, squeezing her thighs into the animal. The steed bucked up, nearly ripping Bartamius from her hand. Clawing the boy back up, Perseathea held to him, muscles burning.

“Bartamius! Please!” She could feel the young man’s arms grappling to hold her.

The horse bucked again, this time its hooves slipping the mud. All three of them slid into a narrow cut in the earth. The divide was tall enough to swallow them, leaving several hand lengths above before reaching the wet forest floor. There was only room enough for the passage of the horse. No more. Squinting into the darkness ahead, Perseathea realized they had fallen into a channel Bartamius had told her of before. It dug into the earth, formed by an ancient creek that now only stood a foot deep.

The steed trounced through muddy orange water, muck and tree roots scraping her legs. Moments later the earth opened up into a long forgotten sliver of the ancient pond. At the other side, a cave waited.

Trekking across the water, Perseathea untied her grip, causing herself to temporarily loose grasp of Bartamius. The boy flung into the mud, pummeling into orange puddles. Dropping herself from the horse, Perseathea landed unbalanced, her own belly toppling her to her knees in the cold mud. Scrambling back to her feet, she swatted the horses flank, sending the animal back into the forest.

“This way.” The soldier’s shout stabbed back.

At the sound of them, Perseathea’s heart froze. Scrambling to Bartamius, she struggled, digging heels, dragging him into the cave. Settling him into the dark and dank shadows, the young girl waddled back out into the beginnings of nightfall, the cold wind stinging her cheeks with new rain. The voices surrounded her.

“Belephron head east. Zach-Tarius west. We will not leave these woods till it is done!”

As the moon traveled, Perseathea held Bartamius in her arms, listening to the soldiers circle them. Their voices would fade, then re-emerge. Then fade again. Rocking the bleeding boy against her swollen belly, she felt his warmth oozing from a make shift wrap she had fashioned. She could smell his blood now. He hadn’t spoken. The last cry he’d made was when she’d broken the arrow in two and drew it from him. He could scarcely breathe, but shivered without end. Shaking from the bitter cold herself, her teeth chattered loud in her ears. Black Cloud would drop into frost, but she couldn’t chance a fire.

She could do nothing but sit with Bartamius in the icy black, listening to the chirp of the hundred or so bats above. She could feel the wind off their wings. Chilling her. Gagging her from the stench of their droppings. Wiping their stink from her legs, her jaw tensed with the pain rising and falling in her womb.

When the voices had been gone a goodly while, she settled Bartamius, and snuck out to the edge of the cave. The moon shone bright behind a wisp of clouds and had dropped from the middle of the sky.

Kneeling back to Bartamius, his belabored breathing stung her into tears. “We made it out, Bartamius. Just like you promised.”

After reaching Pahll-sus, Perseathea had no choice but to leave Bartamius teetering at the edge of death. It broke her heart to see him sleep, looking lifeless with fever. Her only solace was knowing that if death were to take him, his last wish would be, without a doubt, for her to make it out of Gragorian territory before the birth of the baby. She had no time to stay in Pahll-sus now. Not to eat, drink, or sleep. Her pains were coming and going with no promise of the baby’s arrival, and without a mother of her own, she had no understanding of such mysterious happenings.

She had to get out of Gragorian territory. If the baby were born during the treacherous travels, so be it. The only thing she was certain of was that she hadn’t felt the baby move. Not in days. Or longer. The pain in her body to push the child out grew strong, but the child itself had gone without movement for too long a time now. Her greatest fear was to escape Gragore’s men, only to deliver her first born without breath. The thought of it pulled her breath down into her chest, holding it there like a heavy hand.

A Pahll-sus man by the name of Silas had previously arranged with Bartamius to take Perseathea into new territory, and at the break of dawn, they set out. She was to travel the long journey hidden in the back of the man’s covered wagon, stashed among the horse feed hay and other various goods he planned to peddle along the journey.

With the sun warming and the song of morning birds, Perseathea left Pahll-sus behind. She prayed to the true Goddess, the deity her mother had worshipped before her death, and the only deity Perseathea had knowledge of beyond the serpent gods Gragore served. The true Goddess protected women and their children, and she needed nothing more than that now.

After countless days bumping along in the back of Silas’ wagon, and a meager diet of warm water and hard crust bread, Perseathea’s concern for her child grew desperate. The baby still had not moved. And she no longer felt the strange pain that would bring it either. She had no idea what to do for her child. Not only did she lose her mother in her early youth, she had also been brought up by men. Cruel, violent, warring men, with no concerns for her beyond one purpose.

Feeling lonely, she thought of Bartamius. Of Essicka. And of her mother. What she could remember of her. Time faded the woman’s face in her mind. Squeezing back hot tears, she laid in the hay, palming her belly. Wondering what her future days might bring. Exhausted, she drifted in and out of sleep a goodly portion of the travels.

At the heat of day, the wagon jerked to a stop, waking her. Saying nothing, Perseathea kept place, contemplating a run in with Gragore’s soldiers. Sitting quiet, she stared at the tarp covering the wagon, watching for any revealing silhouettes. Sweat misted her skin, stinging into her eyes. Silence. Then, she felt the wagon wobble and heard boots drop to the grass.

A glare of daylight rushed her on a hot breeze. When her eyes settled, she found Silas standing at the edge of the wagon, holding the drape open.

“This is where you get out.” His words landed flat, and without offering the young pregnant girl a hand, he dropped the flap, shadowing her once again from the sun‘s glare.

Scuffling through the hay on her knees, Perseathea edged herself to the opening. The bright of day shined back into her eyes, causing her to squint. Dangling her feet over the wagon, the sweet fragrance of wild orchids and lilac swept over. Far from Black Cloud, the days heated much warmer on her skin here. Silas had traveled with her a week’s time, two days of it crossing valley, to come to this edge of the Great Jungle. Far from the frosty mist of the mountains. Far from the cold gray stone of Gragore’s fortress.

Dropping her bare feet to the grass, she found herself in a place she vaguely remembered from childhood. The treetops loomed high here, high as the warm clouds, green and sparkling in the steamy mist.

“What is it that this place is called?” She looked up to Silas, already back in his wagon seat. With the slap of leather, his horses jumped into a trot. The wagon turned around as the man left her without answer.

“But wait!” She called after him. “Where do I go from here?”

“Bartamius paid me to bring you to the Great Jungle.” The old man shouted without looking back. “I’ve honored that.” His wagon kept a steady pace down the path, never slowing.

“Will you leave me no food or…” her words dropped off, defeated and realizing Silas had no further intentions.

The buzz of the afternoon jungle surrounded her with the hum of locusts and birdsong. The breeze whispered sweet and warm. The land boasted, lush and green, with its heat climbing down a thousand limbs to embrace her face.

A burning jolt. Pain hunched her into her knees. Her stomach raged, for the first time in days. The Goddess had answered her prayer, waiting till she was out of Gragore‘s land. A burst of hot liquid dripped down her inner thighs, splashing her feet. Confused, she clutched at her belly. Moaning. The pain was growing. Twisting and squeezing. The hot ache climbed into her back and legs. Attacking. Pinching her insides.

Stumbling, Perseathea searched for a safe place. She couldn’t walk much longer, but still couldn’t chance being out in the open. Doubled over, she ambled deeper into the jungle. Finding a rabbit trail, she went to her knees, following it to a cluster of high green grass. Palming the ground to find the burrow, she found the flat grass, and scrambled back into the shelter of the burrow.

Pain clenched her stomach again. Squeezing. Burning. She gritted her teeth, groaning. Trying not to make noise. The soldiers could have tailed Silas without his knowing. The old man was no more than a simple fisherman, a grandfather, his mind most likely dim. He could know nothing of battle and tactics, other than Gragore’s tyranny, which everyone in Pahll-sus bowed to. She deemed herself lucky he’d brought her this far.

The warm liquid between her legs scared Perseathea. It had not happened last time. And the pain in her body was more intense. Less forgiving. The pains came and went, but with much less time between them now. Unable to breathe but for her panting, Perseathea prayed. Please Goddess, help me.

She gritted her teeth, another squeeze mashing inside her stomach. “Don’t let my child be born dead.”

And with that, her words broke into a scream. The pain was too much. Blood stained the grass between her legs. Flinging her head back, agonizing, Perseathea could see only patches of blue sky floating above the treetops.

Crack.

Perseathea sucked in a sharp breath. Someone had stepped on a branch. Not five paces away. Clawing into the grass, Perseathea bit her lip, swallowing her screams. Eating her pain. Holding her breath to protect her child, but the push in her body kept coercing. She couldn’t stop, the excruciating push urging her baby. Wrecking her body with heat and throbbing.

Crack.

Her breath caught in her throat again, widening her eyes. The stranger came. Closer. Closer still. Perseathea looked around, heart trembling, but could see nothing but the high grass hiding her. But someone was there. Watching her. She could feel it. Eyes on her.

Another blaze of pain stung through. Unable to force it down, her screams twisted out of her, echoing the jungle. Her cries agonized on in high pitches. Squirming. Clawing the dirt. The scatter of bloody leaves. She couldn’t stand the ripping. The tearing. The smell of blood. And another scream scraped out of her throat, ache twirling the noise.

It wasn’t until her pain eased moments later that Perseathea noticed the auburn haired child gazing down on her from the edge of the grass. Startled, Perseathea shrieked.

“Agh!”

“Agh!” The child toppled backward in response.

“Wait.” Perseathea searched the grass. “Come back.”

The grass kept silent, the hum of the day’s locusts swelling back into her ears. A few tall blades jerked. Perseathea waited. Staring. Hoping. If a child was in this jungle, certainly she wasn’t alone. Maybe she could get help. Another whisk in the grass and the timid child tip toed back into sight. At no more than ten summers, the auburn haired girl wore a tangle of colored beads around her neck. Red and yellow. Perseathea couldn’t remember, but she thought those were the colors Bartamius spoke of. The colors she was to search for.

“I am Perseathea.” She palmed her belly, breathing deep before the pain could return. “What is it you are called?”

The child didn’t reply. She simply stood there, wide eyed. Curious. Her gaze studying Perseathea. Probing her tattered rags. Her frail and bruised body. Lingering on the blood dripping her legs.

Perseathea tried again. “Is your mother near?”

The child kept silent, a gentle breeze shuffling the black hawk feathers in her auburn hair. At closer examination, Perseathea noticed the girl’s cheeks were painted in black and white lines that mimicked the curve of the bones beneath. The streaks were faded, maybe a few days old, but hovered there like a phantom skull under the girl‘s apathetic expression. So young, and yet she looked so daunting, much more than a typical village child.

Her burning rushed back in a flash and Perseathea clenched her jaw. The force within her came alive. Pushing her. Pushing the baby. Splitting her insides. She could feel the hot blood coming back between her thighs. The ache clawing. Squirming back onto her elbows, Perseathea let out another grated cry, her face flushing unbearably hot. Tears squeezed from her eyes. Her legs spread, bending at the knees. Blood oozing.

At this, the young girl spoke. “Do you… do you need help?” Perseathea glared, her face pinching in pain. “Wha…?”

“I can help you birth your baby.”

Unable to speak, Perseathea nodded, grinding her elbows into the dirt. Bleeding. Crying. Praying that her child would be born alive.

Amazon

Signs Of The Secret

CHAPTER 1

I looked up. A brave in the spring of my youth, I knelt, spellbound by the legion of eyes gawking me. The gaze of one girl in particular, a girl standing not ten paces from my sacred circle, unsettled my stomach the most. This girl from my past, she above the rest stirs me, making me uncertain whether to look away or indulge her stare.

I flit my eyes back to the fire. Silent within the circle of dust I waited, bathing in the glow of flames and moonlight. Closing my eyes, I give fearful meditation to the leathers embracing my youthful bosom. And hold my breath.

Mystical sounds surround me, chilling my skin. Hallowed drums pounding. Pipes howling. The whispers sneaking off a thousand curious lips. My soul paralyzes under the fear of this song. And one woman's voice rises above, her song haunting and eternal. Her melody hangs in the air, a cluster of age old notes that have struck fear into a thousand souls before this night. I know it well. Its notes have surged panic into the deep of my spirit the few nights I’ve heard its prophecy. But this time it’s claiming me. I’ve made my pilgrimage to this song… hoping to survive it.

A cycle in seasons has led me here. To this night. This ceremony. Women writhe before me, flooded in darkness, yet alive in the hot breath of flame. Ritual paint streaks their bodies, colors flashing, hypnotizing as they offer me their violent dance. The village of GarTaynia smolders in the fire’s orange hot glow, its wild flicker reflecting in the white washed stones of this sacred place. Glancing up the high row of steps, a tremble takes my lips. My passage waits for me there.

Sage smoke drifts over me like a musky spirit tangled in this primal ceremony, tussling through my sandy blond hair. The traditional oxblood red and blaze yellow glare up at me from my ritual leathers. Amazon insignias. The markings of fear and pride unto a hundred generations. Exhilaration and gruesome fear trembles my sweaty hands. Grips my stomach. The mark of my ancestor’s, symbols that, in the coming moments, will transform me. The passion of my anxiety baptizes me with an intense cold, and yet I glisten with sweat. The warriors continue their dance around the blazing fires. I’ve never been so scared.

Then, the prophetic music drops… like all sound has died. And in that silence the demon named Fear rises up before me. My mouth goes dry. I can’t swallow. I can barely breathe. Beyond my sacred circle stands an ocean of warriors anticipating. Waiting. The haunting chorus of drums resume, the only sound to merge the sighing winds. Slow, deliberate pounding. Bohm. Bohm. Bohm. My innocence shakes, Death’s fingers throttling into its throat.

In a sudden wave, every warrior drops to bended knee. I lift to one knee in the dust. She comes. The Warrior Queen. Graceful. Powerful. Majestic. My eyes have not the will to stray her. This woman walks gallantly through the archaic warriors of old and the apprentice children of future nations, pure sovereignty in her every step. Resting atop the leathers embracing her scarred bosom, adorns a bright breastplate. Chain mail dangles at her hips, glimmering in the shine of the fire. Her body displays scars holding no number. Her form enhances under valiant battle paint, streaked in the symbols that only one of her name can possess.

An onyx jaguar headdress sits sanctimoniously upon her head, the teeth of the once deadly beast jagging down above her brow. Her hair sways with the black fur, dancing like golden ribbons about her body. As she comes, she stretches her arms high above her head, a bright dagger offered in one hand, a blistering torch in the other.

As the Queen nears me, I kill my stare, bowing my head in reverence. My stomach pangs with a sudden jolt of sour. Burning and twisting. I feel sick, but I freeze with equal amounts of worship and fear.

“Askca." The supreme woman proclaims for all to hear. “Rise and come forth."

I flinch, the sound of my own name cutting through me like a cold blade. But I raise, eyes lifting to take in the god-like aura of the woman before me. The Queen’s cool eyes strike trepidation, overwhelming me with her authoritative, yet calm glance. After our gaze holds for a moment, the Queen turns from me, walking through the mass of kneeling women. My hands won’t stop shaking.

Forcing down the hard lump in my throat, I follow. Stepping up the first set of stones, then the second, my heart tightens in my chest. I hold my breath, squeezing my cold and sweaty palms into fists, as if searching an invisible hand to hold.

The moment the alter comes into view, a chill pricks up me. Black crimson tints its jade, staining the alter with the blood allegiance of a nation. Tonight, my blood will flow over that same stone, becoming one with the blood of my ancestors. I strive to stifle my near crippling dread. My breath shudders as I follow the prestigious woman up the last of the steps. At the top, I desperately search my soul for the courage that will soon be so crucial. Waiting, I stare out into the night. A sea of hungry eyes swallow me up in their impatience. Goddess help me…. I take in the sight of the crowd. My suffering will be their spectacle.

Trying not to think of what is seconds away, I turn my eyes back to my muse. The Queen turns to look at me, comfort me, as if she senses. At once, the power sweeps us both. An unspoken connection. The woman warrior’s lips curve into a slight, almost unseen smile, as if it were meant only for me. This mighty woman discerned my trembling just at the moment it had become too great. Taking a deep and nervous breath, I go to one knee.

The wind drops still with the painful quiet of the crowd. I purse my lips to hold back the fear clawing up my throat. I kneel there, heart thrashing my chest like a caged animal. And I close my eyes. The multitude waits on bated breath. Not a whisper. Not a word. A hush has taken over GarTaynia. All that can be heard now is the crackling of the bonfire snapping the breeze.

“Askca has come of age.” The Queen’s warning ripped me out of my head. “She has come to prove her allegiance to the Amazons. She waits ready before you."

The drums pound and the Amazons shout their approval. It almost feels like I’m dreaming, but there’s too much aliveness in my body. The aliveness of fear rushing my skin hot. Shaking my breath. Crushing me. This alive and wild fear is the opposite of dreams. I am too awake. Too present. The drums cease.

"Appointed Commanders, come forth." Three women emerge the tribal mass, ascending the steps.

"Are you ready, brave?" Her words come soft, but terrible to my ears. I look up to her, my soul quivering.

"Yes, my Queen." I hear my voice tremble, but I never doubt my answer. I’ve waited too long for this.

"Rise, brave." The Queen commands and I lift to my feet. Clasping hand over fist across my chest, I salute, and Queen Perseathea returns the gesture.

The drums commence their slow and methodic pounding. The haunting song floats back, escaping the same mysterious woman by the fire. With gentle eyes, the Queen motions me to lie down on the altar. Easing down onto the cold stone, a shiver races, chilling my skin. Stealing my breath.

The three appointed Commanders surround me. One at the foot of the alter, holding my feet. The next, an auburn haired Commander, holds my hands back. The cold jade smoothes against my back, my wrists and ankles bruising under the steady grip of the two women. The last and highest of these, known as the First Commander, accepts the serrated dagger from Queen Perseathea. Bowing her head, the woman awaits the Queen’s consent. But Queen Perseathea stalls her there, first coming to the alter herself.

I lay tense, every muscle straining and anxious. Looking up to find the Queen over me, my heart beats even harder, racing heavy thumps into my ears. The woman drifts two fingers down to rest on my forehead. Tracing them down, she gently shuts my eyes. The drums and song fade from my ears under her soft touch, and behind the darkness of my eyes, I feel a kiss on each of my eyelids. In this brief moment, my fear melts away under the comfort of this woman. It likens to the kiss a child would receive from her mother before a good night’s slumber. The soft kiss then touches my lips, then quickly pulls away. I look to her.

“The moment of your sacrifice to the Nation, you will no longer see or speak as a brave, but as a warrior. A woman.” The Queen steps back, motioning the First Commander. “May your passage come.”

My jaw clenched, trying to put my chattering teeth under it’s vice. Hot blood surged me. This was the moment of my understanding. Soon, the child within me would be dead, and my passage would present itself… in all its frightening glory.

The First Commander stood over me lowering the blade to the leathers binding my youthful breasts. The musky scent of fire, the coolness of the night breeze, the wind hissing through the leaves… it all sucked away.

I could feel nothing but the bashing of my heart, racing my chest. Hurting me. My own heavy and trembling breath shushed inside my ears. I longed to close my eyes, but now paralyzed, I’m unable to even blink. The First Commander leans over, her black hair tickling over my chin. The cold point of the blade jabs me. Scratches up the warmth of my ribs. Its sharp edges split the laces, one by one, until my ritual leathers drop, exposing my heaving breasts. As the First Commander slides the leathers from the alter, the cold stone smoothes like ice against my bare back.

And Queen Perseathea motions the sacrificial blade to proceed. Seeing the Queen’s nod tingled me with shivers. The hair on my skin stood up. My nerves twitched, tight and burning in my stomach. Everything in my life had brought me to this moment… and how I feared it. The fire crackled. The winds rushed. I peered at the blade through squinted eyes as it drew closer. Like a ghost. A specter. A nightmare.

The drums swelled. The song howled frantic. But they still sounded far away. Short, dry breaths parched my throat, choking me on the smoke scorched air. The blade hovered just above my skin, pulsating with hot energy. The sea of women began shouting. The hands on my ankles clamped down, mashing my heels into the rock. Violent trembling attacks me. My eyes refuse to shut, staring as the dagger shines in the light of the fire.

The hands clutching my wrists bruise in. Denial overwhelms and seduces, begging me to close my eyes. Begging me not to witness my passage with sight. The cold blade grazes the warm and supple skin just under my right breast. At its sting, I pinch my eyes shut, unable to hide deep enough in the darkness of my head. My breath sucks down into my chest and the sting under my breast turns to heat. To fire.

A fierce scream, a shrill of torment, cuts through the mystical sounds, ripping through the soul of all who bare witness. I hear my own screams as if they belong to someone else. Desperate now, I thrash against the hands holding me down, forcing both Commanders to heave in, pulverizing us into the rock. The blade slashes under my breast, blazing pain like a runaway flame. My mouth drops open, gaping as screams howl in and out with an agony too great to be poured into sound.

The First Commander's hand wrenches and claws in my hot blood, wrestling to free the breast from the skin. My eyes burst open, red flashing, soaking my chest warm. I strain, balling my hands into rigid fists. Gritting my teeth. Guttural cries grating my throat. The dagger tears relentless, persisting in its mutilation of my flesh. The First Commander stands meticulous, urging her bloody hand through the difficult amputation. Again I hear my screaming, gut wrenching. Overflowing my ears. I twist in the brutal grasp, smelling my own blood drain down my stomach, spilling my sides to form red pools in the arch of my back. My body slides in the fresh blood as the First Commander makes the painful last cut, liberating my breast from my body.

Dipping down, the First Commander hisses in my ear. “The time has finally come for us both.”

Her words confuse me, but I forget them within the moment, too dazed, too shocked, to take them in. I peer through blinding tears to see the woman pull back, her hands dripping with my blood.

Turning to the crowd, she presents the crimson dagger, thick with pieces of flesh, her other hand thrusting skyward to offer my mutilated breast. The multitude erupts into a pride filled roar of unity and sisterhood.

But I continued to wail about, slipping in the smear of blood warming the alter. My blood continues its lively flow, baptizing my body red. Assaulting my nostrils with its bitter tinge. And I dropped limp into the hands of the last two Commanders. At my passing, Queen Perseathea comes to me.

The two women lean me up, presenting me to the Queen and her torch. At the Queen’s nod, the auburn haired woman gently tilts my head back. Queen Perseathea cups a tender hand over my forehead, holding me there. With my pain dulling into black, I feel like I’m floating. Trying to fade. My body becoming so heavy… again as if I’m dreaming. I’m almost into the black now.

But in a flash, my eyes rip open. I’m shocked awake by a blazing sting. Quenched of its fire, the Queen’s torch is still gleaming orange, embers flickering, as she presses it into the bloody wound where my breast once was. Every muscle in my body wrings tight. My teeth gnash at the sizzling of my skin. Popping and wheezing. The stink of my own roasting flesh smoked up into my nostrils, spinning me dizzy.

Completing the cleansing, the Queen presses the smoldering flame in, allowing it to lick my wound dry. The bleeding ceases. I part my lips as if to release my last breath, heavy tears warming my cheeks. Moaning my allegiance, my voice weakens into a desperate and weak sound. I beg comfort, my hands clumsily searching the women who hold me.

Queen Perseathea steps back. The fast pounding of tribal drums swell up once again as I am lifted to my feet. I peer through bleary eyes to see a smile shining on the Queen’s face as she takes my cheek in her hand. In that moment, fading once again into another dream, I remember the truth of the ritual.

I now stand worthy in my Queen’s sight, appointed to join in battle side by side with the greatest of warriors in the land. I can choose a mate. I can bare a child. The moment I had waited an entire cycle of seasons for had now come and gone, and I survived it. I was different now. Things would change.

I look out to my people, chanting my triumph, but the wave of cheers become too much. Their shouts begin to dull in my ears. Weakness rushes my knees like a surging river current, nearly dropping me. I try to keep my eyes open, but the dream summons me again. I feel myself falling. Everything drops black.

CHAPTER 2

Death rode into the jungle that morning, black armor clanging and a thousand hooves thudding the dark soil. A veiled sun burned humid above the tree-topped canopy. Rain snaked mist through the labyrinth of sloped woods, hiding the evil lurking within it. A horde of men clad in black passed under like ants, their sweat soured horses trampling, cutting a path through the jungle. Slicing into its’ plumpest vein. He came, as he had sworn he someday would.

Avarice now bore the name of a man, a foul-hearted man leading at the forefront of this abomination. His name, Gragore. Fiercest of all warlords. Slowing his ash black steed, he in turn heard the throng of horses halt behind him. Armor clattered as the beasts settled, snorting and shuffling as the men awaited his command. Gragore settled his solid frame deep in the saddle, staring ahead, listening to the moan of the jungle.

"Gragore." A young soldier trotted out to the warlord. "What is your command?" Gragore ogled the sultry green before him. He pondered. Anticipated. Bringing dirty fingers to his chin, he rubbed the stubble.

“Mmmm…” he smoothed palms over the black hair lining the curve of his head, wet and shining in the heat. Mosquitoes swarmed his dark skin, sweat trickling the curves of his muscles. Gragore aged far beyond his youth, but stood roguishly handsome with gray and arrogant eyes that smoldered with seduction. His body had known a thousand women, but none had been taken by his charm. For over a time of three decades, his force had stolen them away.

“Sir?”

“Ready the men,” the warlord said, “and eager them for blood.” He never took his eyes from the jungle, too seduced by the secrets it offered. "Blood will run deeper than rivers this day." His words sapped with lustful intention. The soldier nodded, trotting his horse back around. Gragore stared without a blink, excitement glowing in his gray eyes. Savoring. "I will slaughter them like ripe pigs."

I awoke a warrior. Everything I dreamt of and feared had come to pass. I smiled at the thought with a yawn, lifting heavy eyelids. Morning sunlight flooded my hut, bringing me to squint against the bright of day. A warm breeze caressed my skin, offering the faint scent of wild gardenias as I lay listening to a chorus of morning birds singing in a new day. Taking in a breath, I sat up. A sharp burning needled my chest. I hunched into my arms, holding my breath until the pain passed.

The shamaness had likely administered healing herbs to numb the soreness, but sudden movement still seemed unwise. As the pain dulled, a nauseous feeling rushed me. Hazy. Lethargic. The healing herbs swam heavy in my head. When the room finally settled its swaying, I looked down to my remaining breast. By the feel and fresh smell of my skin I had been bathed. My wound bound tight in white linens, red blotting the surface. My lips curved in pride. The wound would leave an impressive scar. Another breeze swept in from my window, reminding me of the tunic lying in a jumble at the edge of my furs. I slipped it over my remaining breast, covering it and my well earned wound. The ties hung loose around my neck, leaving plenty of room for comfortable movement.

I laid back down… and saw her. The girl from my ceremony the night before. The girl who had turned my stomach into a tangle of bumble bees.

She stood in the doorway, her back to me. My face flushed hot. I closed my eyes, but the beautiful warrior stayed place in my mind. Burned into my memories. She remained unchanged from the last moment we’d shared. That day was close to a cycle of seasons ago. I wanted to believe that she would be gone when I opened my eyes… but I knew. I gave pass to a moment… then stole a look. And there she stood. Curving far less buxom than I, yet beyond pleasing to look at, her hair flowed in the morning breeze like dark autumn leaves.

She had haunted me. Her penetrating blue gaze torturing me night after night in my dreams. She looked just the way I remembered her. Which felt odd, almost like a betrayal after so much had changed between us. It seemed deceptive. Confusing. Or even misleading that she looked the same. As if fate came offering a second chance, delivering me into my own past.

Close eyes. Open eyes. Even my disorientation and disbelief could not change this. It was her. It was Saratiese. Why now? Why this day? How could she do this? So many thoughts swirled my mind I couldn’t keep up. I knew this could be no lighthearted exchange. Just the sight of Saratiese made my nerves buzz. Which is curious, in a way. Before this past cycle, Saratiese would have been the first person I wanted to see. But things had changed.

My glare burned into her back and I waited for her to sense the eyes on her. I questioned whether I should speak first. Or at all. Saratiese turned around. At the moment our eyes met, I could feel it. We both fell speechless and the air seemed to chill around us.

“Sara… tiese.” My voice drifted off, the sound of her name now foreign to my tongue. Lost in the moment, I felt as if I had forgotten all language and, at my own surprise, found myself once again captured by the girl’s beauty. I hadn’t expected that. Not after how I felt about her.

I hold ordinary features and stand plain to look at by comparison. I know that well. But intimidation never came to my mind. Not in all the time I’d known her. I instead felt drawn in by Saratiese, the same way everyone did.

“Askca.” The girl muttered, uncertainty in her voice. “I….” She wet her lips as if it might coax her words out, but they refused.

“Why are you here?” My tone iced the question. Saratiese took a step forward, but hesitated.

“To see if you were well.”

“I’m well.” I cut in. “I saw you last night.”

“I saw you.”

“You needn’t have come.”

Sadness crept over Saratiese’s features and she dropped her glance from me. Unbearable moments passed. I felt lost in the confusion, lost on how to feel. I swallowed. “My ceremony is over. I survived. You can leave now.”

Saratiese stared back at me, her silence expressing the hurt that my words had cut into her heart.

“Askca-”

“Leave.” My voice darkened. I couldn’t help it. She brought it out of me. And I could see the determination in Saratiese. I dreaded what was to come.

“But we need-”

“Leave.”

“No!” Saratiese rushed the word out, knowing I would give her no time to try. “Time has passed over us, over this, this memory between us. We need to talk.”

“Memory?” I scoffed. “Is that all it is to you? A memory? How fortunate that must be.”

“Askca, that’s not what I meant.”

“There is no room for talk between us. You know how I feel. You know what I think of you.”

“I do,” she took a breath, an apologetic glance weighing down her soft features, “…but I have things to say to you, things you must hear.”

“I don’t need anything from you.” I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, burning me. “You had your chance and that chance is long passed.”

“A cycle wasted.” Saratiese sighed, dropping her eyes to the dust.

“A cycle well spent!” I shouted. Moving to rise, pain flashed my wound. I gripped it, ache straining my hot face. “You know what is left of us….” I gritted out. “We are dead. You are dead.”

Silence. She just stood there. I shoved past her, staring out the window, into the day and away from my past. The wind picked up, swiping at the trees that surrounded GarTaynia. Whisking through their leaves and stirring up the dust.

“That is how it is?” I heard her say. I held my stare, concentrating on the sway of trees, refusing to look at her.

“It is.” I confirmed.

“I am not going to let this destroy us anymore than it already has.”

At her words, heat prickled my skin like a rash. Cocking my head, eyeing her, it was all I could do not to scream. “You think just because everyone else dotes on you that I will?”

Saratiese sunk back. “What?”

“You know what I’m talking about. You’re beautiful.

Everyone in GarTaynia stumbles over their own feet just to be near you.”

“What are you-”

“But I won’t. Not today. Not ever.”

“I’m not asking you to-”

“Your charms have withered with me, Saratiese.”

“Charms?” She eyed me. “If I were as alluring as you say, we wouldn’t be here right now. You would have forgiven me by now. You would listen.”

“Then quite trying.” I said. “There is nothing you can-”

“No!” She grabbed my arm, squeezing hard. “I’m tired of this! Time between us has wasted away like rotting fruit. We have, or we had, too much. I can understand you needing time. Seasons perhaps. Even a cycle. But today it ends.”

I shook loose of her hand. “I chose yesterday for my Allegiance ceremony.” I leaned into her. “A cycle to the day. That day.”

“I know Askca, but the time has come for you to go on with your life.”

“Can you not see that I have tried?” I felt warm sobs twinging up my chest. Swallowing, I fought the tears off. “I begged for my ceremony. I couldn’t wait a day longer. To be that same girl another day…. I had to change. Become something new. Somebody else.”

“I know.”

“No you don’t! I spilled my blood on that alter last night in the name of that day. So that I might make them proud.”

“You don‘t even see it. You’re not trying to prove yourself to them, you’re trying to prove yourself to you.”

“I am not that girl anymore. You can‘t come in here and tell me-”

“You have forgotten the joys you knew.” Saratiese cut me off, shaking her head. “You weren’t always this miserable.”

The way she said those words, the way she was looking down at me… as if I were a slow child who had disappointed her. It was wrong. It was not her place. None of this was her place.

“Oh no.” I felt my voice drop cold. “I have not forgotten. I am reminded every day of the joy I’ve lost. The freedom I had to live without these memories. I know what I was before that day. Alive. Alive and blind. But then you opened my eyes, and every time I look at you I‘m reminded of what I’ve lost.”

“How can you believe I would do that to you?” Saratiese asked in a near whisper.

“You were there.”

“You’re never going to understand, are you?”

“There is nothing to understand. There’s only the truth.”

“Truth?” She threw her hands up. “...you have no idea how much of the truth you don’t know!”

“My truth rests in ashes.” My words rang on long after they had been spoken, stealing the breath from my chest.

After long moments, Saratiese looked away. She couldn’t bare the sting in my words. They were true. No matter how it had come about, the ashes had ended it.

Saratiese closed her eyes, breathing. Slowly, she leaned in until her arms held me. I stood in the embrace, cold and still. It was too late. I offered not a hand in return, but did not pull away. I simply stood, trembling in Saratiese’s arms. Quite. Saratiese held me close, and I could feel her warm body shaking.

My stomach burned, my own nervous fear making me sick. I had imagined this moment a thousand times, and yet now in it, lost my words. I pulled back from her until we stood eye to eye, but Saratiese was unable to hold our gaze.

“It’s so strange,” she spoke under her breath, “the way things have changed between us. I came here with words that I have toiled over for seasons… and now standing here, they fail me.”

I remained silent, a rush of cold stinging like ice on my skin. I didn’t know what to do. I dropped my gaze, pulling free, leaving Saratiese with empty arms. Moving back

to my furs, I sat, staring at my hands as they rested in my lap. Breathe. Breathe. I searched to calm myself, but the calm wouldn’t come. Anger tensed my entire body. I did as I could to keep the flashes away, the images that disturbed me every night, but my bitterness would not relent until my mind’s eye recalled every single one. I couldn’t hold my thoughts, my offense, any longer.

"Why after all this time do you come to me?" I jerked my head up, my glare burning the warrior that now sat across from me. "Why not when I needed you?"

"I tried-"

"I don't need your words. I don’t need your sympathy so great I see it spilling over your eyes. What I have lost is lost forever and-”

“Hear me.” Saratiese pleaded.

“I know that you care for me, Sara.” I stifled back tears. “And you know I cared for you… but that was before.”

“No, Askca.” Saratiese said in a defeated tone. “Please don’t say that.”

“There is nothing else to be said.”

Saratiese reached to hold my hand. “There is so much to be said.”

“I don’t need you anymore.” I pulled away. “I can’t."

"But I'm here. We have to put this resentment between us to rest."

"Between us?” I glared, cut deep by the words. “What would you have to be resentful for? You lost nothing."

"I lost everything."

"By your own hand!"

"How can you care nothing for me? Gods, Askca! I knew you might never forgive me, but I never expected for you to always hate me.”

“How could you expect anything else?” Tension chilled the air, and we both went silent.

Saratiese lifted to her feet and stared down at me, holding the chill between us till she could no longer stand it. “I should never have come. I just...." she dropped into silence, but I could hear the tears climbing into her words.

I looked up to see tears glassing the girl’s blue eyes. My own sobs fought back up my throat. Truth told, I missed Saratiese. Missed her so much that I resented her for ruining our friendship. I had pushed her out of my life, but it still broke my heart to see her hurt. Once, we had been inseparable, but she had made a choice. She knew that choice would end us. Forever. Still, it was hard to refuse Saratiese, almost impossible. I had to stay strong. The pain in my heart had grown heavy for a cycle. It still ruled me every day. But along with it came a void, eating away at me, growing deeper without Saratiese to fill it.

I searched for words. Something had to be said. The profound silence felt so awkward and uncomfortable, and at the same time, familiar. It reminded me of the times in the beginning, when things were still fresh and painful, when my days were dark and dead. It made me feel hopeless. That’s why I chose to never speak of it again.

I wanted to give up this fight. Wrap my arms around Saratiese and forget that any of it ever happened. That’s what I wanted to do, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave

myself open to that hurt again. I had already tried to forget it a thousand times. I couldn’t. So I said the only thing I could think of.

"I don’t hate you, Sara. I just can’t....” I took a deep breath, lifting to stand across from her. “How can I forgive you?" I looked to Saratiese, desperate for the girl to understand and be patient. I didn’t know if I could ever forgive Saratiese. I just hoped that someday I would.

"You've changed, Askca.” Her voice wavered, sounding different now. “Just like you wanted. But who you’ve changed into… I don’t recognize." She smeared the tears from her cheek with a hard palm. "We can never get back what we had. You’ve known that all this time. But I’m just now realizing.” Saratiese shrugged, sniffing back more tears. “I always thought we'd get past this somehow, but I just… I don't know you anymore. I don’t think you even know yourself. The Askca I knew… she never came back."

I stood, stunned. I didn’t understand. Saratiese had never given up on me before. It was an odd feeling so I just stood there. Silent. Uncertain of what to do. To say. I had wanted to believe Saratiese was sorry, but I knew in my heart. She could never be sorry enough.

"Askca, you're awake." Startled, I turned to see the Queen standing in my doorway.

CHAPTER 3

First Commander Masseeia, the woman who preformed my ceremony, stood next to Queen Perseathea in the doorway. Saratiese saluted. I attempted to kneel, ignoring the blistering in my sore chest.

Hiding my surprise, I bowed my head. Queen Perseathea came to me? Unannounced? The Queen came to no one. Anyone seeking the Queen’s council requested appointment and waited to be summoned. I held my tongue, considering it best not to question. Queen Perseathea and Masseeia entered the shade of my hut, stopping in front of Saratiese.

“Saratiese.” The Queen Acknowledged the girl with a nod.

Saratiese kept her salute. “My Queen.”

"Askca,” the Queen drifted her gaze down to me, “now that you are a warrior, you need only salute me. Except in ceremonial occasion."

I lifted, embarrassed, and saluted. “Of course, my Queen." I offered her a tentative smile. Just the sight of this woman, my mentor, inspired me. Her very presence intoxicated, blurring my mind and confusing my words. She stood our most celebrated warrior. She was everything I aspired to become. And standing before her now, so close, and without the fear of my ceremony clouding my head… it overwhelmed me. The Queen mirrored me with her own warm smile. It never failed to surprise me, the gentle and kind nature that tempered Queen Perseathea’s strong, fearless authority.

She motioned the room to clear. First Commander Masseeia saluted and withdrew from my hut without a word. Saratiese followed, but turned back to gaze on me one last time. I flit my eyes away from her.

"Askca,” Queen Perseathea guided me, her hand at my back, “sit.”

"Yes, my Queen." I resumed my place on the furs, trying to free my mind of Saratiese and our argument. I needed to be attentive to the Queen’s every word. But, the thought of being alone with the magnificent woman made me nervous. And confused. Out of a tribe of thousands, what can she want with me?

My mind rambled and my palms began to sweat. If not for my ceremony the night before, I doubted the Queen would even know my name. I looked up to this warrior since the days of my brave hood, and unto this very moment. We all did. I felt unworthy. Queen Perseathea stood as the mightiest Queen in the Amazon Nation.

The Queen took her place, sitting across from me. A warm breeze brushed over my body, reminding me of my tender wound. I shielded it with my elbow, still gazing in awe at the woman across from me. Unable to take my eyes off of her. The same breeze lifted wisps of Queen Perseathea’s golden hair, the sun glistening against the strands to celebrate her matchless splendor.

The Queen dropped her eyes to the leather pouch at her side. Slipping it from her skirt, she pulled its’ ties open, and lifted out an amulet. A smooth green stone with the mark of The Warrior engraved upon it. She looked to me without words, but offered another smile before letting her eyes float back down to the sacred stone dangling her fingers. Placing her hand over mine, she turned my palm up, lowering the amulet to rest there. A virgin warrior, I gazed over the stone, captured.

"This amulet is to remind you of your sacrifice and blood allegiance to the Amazons."

I listened, her words soothing my ears like music. I had longed for these words for over a cycle’s time. The sound of them excited my soul, giving the beauty of the Queen exhausting competition. An ocean of sun filled the room, bathing us both in its’ light. It felt as if the woman’s words had coaxed the sun from its clouds.

"It sings of your belonging, Askca. You are a daughter of the Nation. Of GarTaynia. Wear this in remembrance of your sisterhood. Everlasting unity. Protection in battle. An emblem of the ever watchful spirit of the Goddess. It is allegiance set in stone, Askca. You are reborn. Washed of blood. Born of fire. You are a warrior now. A woman. Once this amulet comes to rest around your neck, it shall remain. You wear it here, this day of your birth. Through battle. Through torture. Through death. It declares your name Amazon. This amulet is a symbol of what is to come, Askca. A symbol of your journey.”

I looked down at the stone, a deeper green than the great river itself, touching my finger to the engraved symbol. The amulet shone more mystifying than the sun, moon, or her stars, and I knew this was it. This was the moment I had waited my entire life for. Queen Perseathea's eyes glowed, her gaze filling me. Warming me. Her acceptance, her pride for me, all of it shone bright in her eyes. I slid the amulet around my neck.

"I will wear this amulet till it soaks in my blood. In death and into my next life. As a token of allegiance and unity unto my sister Amazons. But above all, I wear it as a symbol of my eternal allegiance to you, Queen Perseathea."

Before the Queen could respond, Masseeia rushed into my hut. Her face flushed red and her dark eyes wild.

"Queen Perseathea." The woman gasped, entering with a quick salute, struggling to catch her breath. "My Queen, you must come. An army is surrounding GarTaynia."

Perseathea shot to her feet, eyes narrowing on her First Commander. "How long ago were they spotted?"

"Word of the approach came from GreeElla's hunting party. Moments ago. They spotted the men on the edges of our territory."

The Queen lifted an eyebrow. “Count?”

Masseeia wet her lips, thinking before she spat out a number. “Ten thousand. At least. Black armor. War horses. They look as if they’ve come from north territory.”

"We’re GreeElla’s hunters spotted?"

"No…” Masseeia shook her head, her reply sounding uncertain, “at least that is GreeElla's word. The army is close, my Queen… arriving by midday. No later. We don’t have much time."

Queen Perseathea stared out my window and into the thick jungles sloping the GarTaynian hillside. "Sound the battle horns, gather the warriors and go to the Temple.” She turned back to Masseeia. “Now!"

"Yes, my Queen." The First Commander saluted, then sprinted back out into the day. Queen Perseathea turned her attention back to me.

"Leave the weapons of your childhood. Go to the Temple. There you will receive your command."

I stood frozen, breath caught in my throat. Heart trembling. Mind racing. I hadn’t anticipated a battle so soon. I just survived my allegiance ceremony. Now, just the morning after, I’m to face battle? As a brave I had dreamt of the glory of my first battle… but I had always envisioned myself prepared. But my wound blisters fresh on my chest. The healing herbs still haze my head. I’m anything but ready.

"Askca,” the Queen paused, “do not fear this. You are a warrior now."

Her words brought me determination with their comfort. A warrior is without fear. Fear of pain. Fear of suffering. Fear of death. Swallowing, I gave a stiff salute. Sixteen summers is not young for an Amazon to meet her first battle. Dropping my hands, I turned to ready myself. When I glanced back, Queen Perseathea was gone, and the battle horns began wailing throughout all of GarTaynia.

Chapter 4

I neared the Temple. The sun glared off of the great spectacle, blinding GarTaynia in a wash of white. Columns appearing to touch into the clouds circled the sacred place, embracing the women pouring into its halls. Young, bright eyed girls dotted the alabaster steps, exchanging whispers as the revered warriors streamed past in procession.

Despite the swelter, a chill raised the hair on my neck. I had beheld this hallowed sight all of my life, but this day, it captivated me in a way like never before. This day, it summoned me. I looked to the braves spilling over the stone steps. Adolescent girls. Children. They gazed on me with envious eyes. But one day separated me from them. In one day, one evening, one moment… I had crossed over. A warrior. Not so long ago, I stood on these same steps, dreaming.

Brushing the sandy hair from my eyes, I took a deep breath, looking under the archway. The warriors assembled. Anxiety struck, turning my stomach. I’m one of them now. I had always assumed that my Allegiance Ceremony would change, not only my name, but the truth of me. But I didn’t feel any more a warrior today than I did yesterday. I held the outward signs. My blistered chest, bound tight. My amulet. But my way of thinking lingered behind. I just didn’t see the warrior inside of me yet. That scared me. Ignoring the thought, I ran into the gathering, my bare feet cooling against the alabaster.

After the last warrior joined us, the braves filed in at the back of the Temple. Then, Queen Perseathea entered, draped in her wolf headdress. A sigh of battle. As soon as she appeared, the braves kneeled and a hush fell over the crowd. We saluted. The Queen strode past the congregation, a battle axe in each hand. One axe, her own, stood as high as the woman herself, its’ blade wider than any other in the land. The other axe dwarfed in the shadow of the first. The smaller of the two was the blade of every Amazon warrior. Resting the axes on a marble alter before the Goddess, Queen Perseathea returned salute to her people, addressing the assembly at her feet.

"An army is approaching GarTaynia." Her voice echoed, bouncing off the walls of the grand Temple. “They are, so far, unaware of our knowledge of their advancement. We are sending into Jaguar formation. Stalking our prey. Hunting the hunters. First Commander, your company will cover the southwest border, sneaking the edges of the only land passable by these mounted soldiers. Slip through the jungle unnoticed, gain position, and then follow them back here.”

Masseeia nodded. “Yes, Queen.”

Perseathea turned attention to her three Commanders. “Ella, take your warriors north. Laidea, your company is guarding the east wall. Arielle, take your company and stand guard throughout the village. Position a company of five braves to each warrior. Let them observe your tactics, yet only involve them in combat if necessary. Be ready for attack when I give word.”

Laidea, Ella, and Arielle gave a collective salute, confirming their orders.

The Queen looked to the elderly woman leaning at Commander Laidea’s side. The woman loomed deep into her age, in the fall season of her years, and appeared shriveled in comparison to Laidea’s lean and tall build. Withered as she may be, the woman knew things. Most things. And her wisdom was sought by the whole tribe. The Queen held her head high when she spoke to the aged woman, illustrating her esteem.

“Elder Piphany, take the children and the league of elders beneath the Temple. Stay in the Hall of Divinity. Do not come out until I summon you.”

The old woman narrowed her gaze. “It will be done, my Queen.”

“Is everyone clear of their order?” The assembly gave a collective ‘yes’. “Then go. Protect our great Nation."

The women fragmented into their commanded posts. The ranks ordered to the borders began shedding their leathers and body armor. Uncertain of where I would be, I began peeling off my skins as well, dropping my breastplate. I didn’t know which company I was going to enter, but knew I wasn’t likely to be guarding the wall. The east wall was a three hundred foot cliff drop. Steep and nearly impossible to climb, it served as a look out, its view reaching far into the horizon. It’s where the catapults sprung and the first wave of our archers held guard. If by chance advancements did overwhelm the wall, burning oil met the climbers. The wall watch required special training and tactics I had not yet mastered.

The cool of the Temple breeze draped over my nude body. I felt exposed, but knew I would now be able to move through the jungle freely, blending into its’ greening deceptions. As I bound my hair back in a leather tie, I noticed the Queen approaching, pulling a familiar lump up my throat.

"Askca.”

“My Queen.” I stood rigid, feeling the urge to cover myself in front of her. My chest hid under its’ binding, but standing naked below the waist made me feel inadequate. At only sixteen, my body stood in contrast to that of the other warriors. I didn’t display the scars of battle, the muscle tone of combat.

“You will be in First Commander Masseeia’s company."

I lost my breath. “The First Commander?” I repeated, testing that I had heard correctly.

“Yes.”

“Masseeia’s company is the largest, most revered company, reserved for the top fighters.” I said again, more as a question. I wanted to make sure the numbing herbs weren’t confusing my mind. My hearing. The Queen placing me, a virgin warrior, in this company made no sense.

“Do you question my decision?”

“N… no. No, my Queen. Of course not.”

Queen Perseathea palmed my shoulder. "You’ll be fine.” She dropped her hand, then presented the smaller of her two axes to me. “Your weapon.”

I took the axe.

“Follow the First Commander’s orders precisely. Do whatever she says. Do not question her, not even for a second. That second could be more than enough time for the enemy.”

“Yes, my Queen.”

“And Askca,” she drew me in under her arm, speaking into my ear, “this enemy is overwhelming in number. The men, for most of their count, will be bigger than you. Stronger.”

My heart tightened in my chest. I swallowed, steadying myself. The last thing I wanted to do was show fear in front of this great woman.

“This means you must be quick on your feet. Fast. Use the soldier’s heavy frame burdened with armor against him. Keep him off balance. You’re lighter. Smaller. Swifter in action.”

“I understand.”

The Queen slipped from me, focusing her intense green eyes on mine. “Do not try to beat brute strength with brute strength. Outwit. Draw on your advantages.”

“Yes, my Queen.” I nodded, white knuckling my axe handle. And with that she turned, her wolf headdress flowing behind her as she proceeded off to Laidea’s company.

This was it. I tightened my jaw, memorizing the Queen’s words. Ingraining them into my mind. Burning them there. I stared at my axe. I trained with it as a brave, but was never allowed to fight with more than the staff, dagger, or bow. The axe, like the sword, was a weapon of skill. The weapon of a warrior.

After a few goodly moments, Laidea, the auburn haired Commander who had assisted in my ceremony, stood talking with the Queen. Ever so often her eyes would glance over at me. Study me. She nodded, indicating she understood whatever it was the Queen had just said. Then, she drew from her company, her focus pinning me to the marble as she drew near.

My mouth went dry. I had admired Commander Laidea since childhood. We had never once spoken. She was an unreachable. Like the First Commander. Where Masseeia stood as Queen Perseathea’s right hand, Laidea stood as her left. Everyone in the Nation knew this woman’s name.

"Askca." I froze at my name, even though it flowed warmly, even naturally off the Commander‘s lips. The woman handed me a bowl of Behto, blended mud and leaves. "Cover your body. It will blend you into the jungle."

“Don’t you need it?” I managed to mutter.

“My company is watching the wall.”

“Thank you.”

Laidea gave a gentle smile, her expression soft and comforting. So calm. So cool headed before battle. It awed me how at ease the Commander seemed to be at a time such as this one. Though it stood without doubt that this was not her first bout of combat, she’d seen countless battles, I still could not imagine being so collected. My stomach burned with twisting nerves.

Laidea then leaned into me. “Keep the sun at your back. Many a battle has been lost to the sun’s blinding rays.”

I smeared the mud across the healthy part of my chest, blotting my wrapped wound, careful not to soil my amulet. The Behto smelled of wet earth, cold and grimy against my skin, but it also stiffened my posture. Behto adorned only the warrior.

After covering my body in the mud, I stood alone, naked and staring. That’s when I felt it. Eyes on me. I glanced around the hall, spotting Saratiese. Not fifteen paces away. The dark haired girl smoothed mud over her arms, staring back at me. No attempt to hide her eyes from me. I looked away as my palms began to sweat. Saratiese stood with Masseeia’s warriors as well. We were in the same company.

"Askca. Come." Masseeia motioned to me. I hurried to the First Commander, chills sweeping my skin. "Still yourself." Her words dropped, strong and detached. Stonehearted was Masseeia’s legacy. Revered for her strength under torture, it was legend that the woman had not once in her life shed a tear. Not in grief, pain, or suffering. The Commander glowered down on me with an icy glare. Dipping two fingers into a bowl, she spread sticky lines of cold blood across my forehead.

Smelling the blood, I stood solemn under Masseeia’s callous touch. Dipping her fingers again, the First Commander streaked thick blood in bold lines across my cheeks and nose. Her final stroke connected a line of red under my nose, smoothing down my waiting lips and over my chin.

“This is your blood, warrior. Blood of the alter where you proved your allegiance as an Amazon. You have proved brave in ceremony. Now you must prove brave in battle. Allegiance, young warrior."

"Yes, First Commander.”

Masseeia nodded, then left me where I stood to taste my own cold blood. The tremble in my body rapidly surfaced, my hands shaking in a cold sweat. We were moving. I fell into line with my company. This was it. My first battle as a warrior. The Nation would forever remember what happened this day.

The company stood ready, looking to Masseeia as the other companies poured out of the Temple behind the Queen. Wind whistled through the vast hall as our silent warriors filed out. The drums of war pounded, now echoing into the hall. My heart beat hard in my chest, hurting, as I followed the women out into the bright, enveloping heat.

Chapter 5

I crept through the muggy jungle, low to the ground. I kept vigilant not to make a sound. The colossal trees stretched high above me, blotching out the blue of afternoon sky. The jungle clawed my naked body, but I found comfort hiding in the lush flora and snaking vines webbing the forest floor.

A short distance out of GarTaynia, Masseeia’s hand shot up. I dropped still as stone. The hum of the jungle surrounded us. A thousand locusts bussing. Birds squawking. I hunched deeper in to the warm soil, my heart racing as I balanced on perched toes and steady fingers.

Approaching murmurs. I strained to hear over my own heavy breathing. Distant voices caught the breeze, mingling with the faint clapping of hooves. A chill prickled into me. An enemy on horseback could destroy a company on foot in under an hour. It more than doubled the men’s chance of victory.

It doesn’t matter. We’re in Jaguar formation. We follow them back… we won’t fight here.

Masseeia’s hand made a brisk swipe down and then shot back up, signaling us to the trees. I bolted, scrambling up the closest timber. I settled in the branches, weapon ready. Catching my breath, a stiff breeze rustled through the leaves, swaying my branch. I held tight to the limb, balancing on perched toes, peering out from my leafy refuge… to see no one. My Behto painted sisters blended like the wind into the surrounding trees. The sound of clomping hooves came. Closer. Louder. I clung to the tree, turning my knuckles white. The moment I had dreamt of, even needed, now rose up before me in all its intimidating glory. This demon called Battle.

Branches scratched at my skin as I convinced myself to be brave. To honor them. I forced my shaking frame still, my mind devoured and on edge. Sweat streamed my mud stained brow, trickling my face, running more of my ceremonial blood into my mouth, bitter and gritty on my tongue. I swallowed, staring down over the distant trees. A dark army marched into sight. Black armor. Warhorses. A count of at least a thousand men in the first wave. The soldiers streamed in below me now. Thudding and clanging. Tearing through the trees like hungry vultures searching a corpse.

"Attack!" Masseeia’s shout rang out, that one word cutting through me like an ice dagger.

“What?” Shock escaped my lips. I watched the trees shake violently, emptying Amazons into attack. Whether I expected to fight here or not, it was upon me. I held tight to my axe and jumped. Falling, I broke into two soldiers, bucking their steed into a wild panic and tossing all three of us to the ground. The larger of the two men screamed a high pitched squeal, a sound of agony like I’d never heard, clawing at his face. Bright red sprung through his fingers like a fountain. The weight of my fall, teamed with the push of my axe, had forced the blade through his head, splitting it on the side like a ripe melon. A large portion of his face fell prey to the slash, leaving parts of his bleeding skull exposed, and a meaty hole in exchange for his left eye and cheek. My mouth watered hot as the bloody hole stared up at me. I struggled to swallow, calming the gag forcing up my throat.

Blood flooded the man’s mangled face. I scampered for my axe. Jumping to my feet, I narily escaped the blade of the second soldier. And out of the corner of my eye I spotted a mounted soldier approaching. He drew his sword, urging his crazed beast toward me. The ground soldier continued his attack, swinging his bright blade wildly at me. I dodged the sword in time to escape its cold steel, but not quick enough to take comfort in my ability. Luck and adrenalized fear seemed to play a goodly part in my escapes from the sword.

I fought with strained grunts, muscles and lungs burning, sweat stinging my eyes. The mounted soldier. I gasped, turning just as the horse was on me. I dipped, keeping my neck clear of the hungry blade. Swiveling a hard kick to the ground soldier’s jaw, he flew off his feet just as the mounted soldier passed. I watched the horse trample by, then focused again on the ground soldier. He was already back on his feet, anger fueling his gaze as he heaved his sword down on me. Remembering the Queen’s words, I bolted to the ground, darting between his legs, slicing my sharp edged blade in. His inner thigh and dangling manhood ripped victim to the cut, slivering the flesh from the soldier in one crude slice. His cracking scream hit the jungle air as I jumped up behind him, kicking him to the dirt.

A sudden flash of black fused with a dull thud inside my head. The gritty taste of dirt and a throbbing at the back of my head came before I realized what happened. Clawing into the jungle mud, I looked up to see the mounted soldier race past. I shook my head, the bruising pulsation blurring my eyes. I scrambled to my feet... off balance. Palming the back of my head, my hand met with a warm ooze soaking my hair. I looked to my fingers, smeared red. I glanced up. The same black stallion was galloping back.

Sharp air sucked into my throat. I tightened grip on my axe. Gritting my teeth, adrenaline surged me. I hurled the weapon at the oncoming steed. The blade ripped through the air, blade over handle, till it stopped suddenly, sinking into the animal’s breast. Blood trickled over its black coat, shining.

Its’ agonized shriek shot into my ears. The powerful beast went down under its own unsteady speed, taking its’ rider with it. The man thrashed into the dirt, screaming under the mammoth weight of the horse crushing his bones. Approaching the squirming beast, I cringed. Cracking bones splintered loud in my ears. Even through the noise of battle I could hear the man’s body breaking. I took hold of my axe, drawing it out from the dying horse’s thick flesh as it snorted and convulsed.

The soldier screamed underneath, begging me. I looked on him, sorrow pricking my heart. I ached for the man, who now looked so common. So scared. Like me. In this moment we were the same. Afraid to die. But I could not help him. He was an enemy unto my people. He had come to us… but his screams were so loud. They cut inside my ears. Stabbing in. I stood over him in the dust, twisted and broken from his fall. With a great swipe, I mercifully sliced his throat with my axe, freeing his life and his pain in a quick spill of red. I closed my eyes. The bloody sliver seemed to be grinning up at me.

I shook violently, gasping for breath. I scanned the battle. Fallen bodies littered the jungle floor. Red mud stained my feet. I stood ankle deep in the red death, smelling its rot and stench on the hot wind. Innocence drained out of me. The blood of slaughter dripped my hands. My ears were held prisoner to the moans and screams, terror and hate, polluting the jungle. Bones cracking. Shattering. Chunks of flesh ripping from the bone. Battle raged on every side of me. Blood misted heavy on the air, turning my stomach. My mind crazed, unable to think. To reconcile. To understand. I bobbed in every direction. Watching. Waiting.

Then they came, two horsemen, their black armor dripping in blood. Their golden stallions stained red with gore. Hell riding. Charging me with mouths frothing and foaming. I searched escape, eyes whirling in my sockets. But there was none. I steadied myself. The stallions charged. Heated, mammoth monsters. With a battle cry, I ran headlong into the oncoming beasts, desperate to cut both steed off at the knees.

But an axe spun past me, veering the two horses in opposite directions. I twisted back. Hippolyta stood behind me with her face flushed and empty hands. She gave me a quick nod, then charged into a fight with a ground soldier. Flitting my eyes back to the two horses, I witnessed one of the men loose control of his stallion. Sliding from the beast, he pummeled into the leaves. Twisting in the mud, he howled out, his hands shaking at his side. Hippolyta’s axe stuck out from his ribs, blood washing down the side of his black armor. Tainting the leaves a dark red beneath him. He lie there, face strained with scarlet pain as he twitched. Red life draining out of him.

The second horse spooked as well, bucking till its’ mounted soldier flung to the underbrush. The man flailed, barely escaping the wild beast’s hooves pounding the mud near his head. He scrambled to his feet, but just as he regained footing, Hippolyta carved a dagger into his lower back. The warrior held the blade steady as the man jerked at her hand, bleeding hot over her fingers. Another man rushed in, but ran his chin right into the woman’s waiting kick. He staggered back a step, eyes confused. Hippolyta launched another kick to his hand, tossing the sword from his grip. Shocked, he crawled after it, but as he drew up, Hippolyta’s dagger slid under to meet his throat. A swift red slice. His eyes bulged like full moons. He gargled, clawing at his neck, blood streaming his fingers.

I watched the man drop, then felt the burn of a blade scratch passed my own thigh. I turned. A boy close in age, lanky and fast, jabbed his sword at me. Watching his eyes, I clanged my axe into his sword in perpetual motion, anticipating his every strike. After several muscle burning moments, the boy began to tire, sweat shining on his forehead.

And a scream rang out. A familiar scream, the sound icing my soul. Gripping me. I spun around to search the sound. In that moment, the boy’s blade slashed the side of my throat, trickling hot blood down my shoulder. The sting gritted my teeth, boiling my anger. Face flushing, I came back to the boy, swinging my axe as I came. My blade thrashed into his sword, flinging it from his hands. His eyes gleamed with terror as I grabbed him, ripping his chest plate off. Distracted by the pain burning my neck, I barely noticed the trembling in his body. Pulling my axe up, seeing no one, nothing but him, I sunk my blade into him. Red splattered my face, tanging on my tongue. The boy’s eyes flickered, seeing his own death. And the familiar screaming tore back to me.

Chapter 6

I dropped the dying boy to the dust, running toward the scream. The sound of it stung over me. It was not a scream of battle. It was something different. Something worse. I clawed up another tree, scanning the tangle of people below. Staring, I studied, seeking out the cry.

A moment later, I froze. My body stiffened, cutting my fingernails into the bark. Saratiese. Almost out of sight, just outside the heart of battle, Saratiese struggled with a group of soldiers. My heart wrenched in my chest. Saratiese had only been a warrior for a short time. This was her first battle as well. Squinting, I tried to clear the image, but couldn’t see well enough. I dropped from the low branch into a run. The blood on my neck flew off in sweaty red streams as I zigzagged through the fighting. Saratiese was outnumbered. Heavily.

I crept up to the bushes hiding the men. Saratiese’s screams were disturbing. Desperate and throat shredding. Holding my rushing breath, I peered over the brush. When the sight hit me, it sucked the wind from me like a kick to the gut. A flash of heat fired over me.

Five men pinned Saratiese to the ground. A sixth man pressed dominantly down onto her, crushing her under his corpulent flesh. The air around them reeked heavy of rancid sweat and sour lust. Saratiese's red eyes were furious with tears. She strained against the men, screaming and pushing as they held her down. Drool slobbered down from the soldier’s gritted teeth as he grunted on top of her. She clenched her eyes shut with every violent thrust, helpless to the soldier bruising into her. Defiling her. She could feel his broad boots digging into the soil at her feet. Blood trickled her thighs. Her face soaked in sweat, her jaw clenching. The soldiers watched with howling laughter.

My thoughts raged. I shook. I couldn’t breathe. Wrath poured over me, heated hate, a source of anger I had never before experienced. Turning something in me. Distorting me. Snapping me. Bloodlust tightened the white knuckle grip on my axe. The man defiled Saratiese… my Saratiese.

I jumped the brush, running in. Lifting my axe, I shoved hard into the rapist, cutting my blade deep into his back. He arched into the axe, desperate for breath. I ripped the blade free, slinging his blood through the wind. Kicking him down, I slashed after him with my blade. He squirmed in the bloody leaves, arms flailing. I hacked, scrambling after him, violent tears escaping me. He was no longer human in my sight, but some wicked thing. A devil to be destroyed.

Saratiese, soaked in blood, semen, and tears… crawled away from the soldier and his men, fumbling her fingers after her own mud covered axe. She clambered to her feet, weapon in hand, staring through bulged eyes.

I slid the sword from the dying rapist’s sheath, hurrying toward the others. Kicking one in his throat, I watched his air bust, choking him on his own blood. I swung back, my axe and sword slicing past the other four men. Jabbing the long blade, the sword fell in my favor, gorging one soldier through his stomach, protruding a crimson tip through his back.

I spiraled, splitting the men down. Seeing only red. Hate fueled me, burning my veins. Hurting. I could feel it, this unrecognizable monster inside of me. Changing me. Pushing me. Inspiring me. The pain of vengeance changing a human heart. Blood spilt like rain from my hands as I slashed with speed, cutting till not one of them were left standing.

Out of breath, I looked down to the fallen, seeing them through eyes blackened by this day. A dark world sprawled dead at my feet. I turned once more to the rapist, dying in the stream of red trickling the dirt. The fallen soldier gurgled in his own blood. I knelt down, sliding his head into my lap. Staring on him. On his eyes. They shined with fear now, hiding his true eyes. The eyes I had seen before. The imposing, arrogant, devil eyes he had glinted while raping Saratiese. They were gone now. Hiding like a mischievous child. He shook in my hands, blood dripping his lips. His chin. He stunk like days old sweat and rotting meat. And that’s what he was destined to become. Rotting meat. Caressing my palms over his ears I took hold. His dark eyes bulged like full moons. Frightened. Trying to plead with me. But it was too late. With one swift jerk, I snapped his neck. I jumped to my feet. Suddenly, I couldn’t leave his body quick enough. He seemed to taint me, his death rubbing off. I stood shaking. Blood splattered my arms and legs. Dripped my fingers. I swallowed, unable to recognize my own hands beneath their red, wet smear.

Coming back to myself, I went to Saratiese. She stood with shock and hurt glassing her blue eyes, her axe dangling her fingers before dropping to the mud. A stream of blood trickled her inner thigh. Without a word, she crashed to her knees, burying her face in her hands, sobs flooding out.

I knelt, pulling Saratiese in. She trembled in my arms, tears gushing, soaking my shoulder warm.

Chapter 7

The First Commander’s company staggered back into the borders of GarTaynia, the wounded and dead hanging in our arms. I idled at the end of the company, carrying Saratiese, careful not to jostle the wounded girl. My mind pained with unending thoughts as I walked, soaking in sticky blood and sweat. Thinking. I had done what I had to do. He deserved it. They all did. That’s what I will tell myself from now on. And refuse to question it. Maybe someday, I’d even believe it. Spiting my own understanding, it all came across like a dream. Even the sun felt somehow imagined, too bright to be real. None of this can be real.

Overwhelmed, yet unfeeling. In pain, yet numb. I searched for softer emotions, but they hid from me, suffering lost in the unreaches of my contaminated heart. I felt no sadness, no joy. Just truth hurting my ears with the quite after battle. None of this is glory.

Ambling back up the sloped woods, my arms burning under Saratiese, I squinted against the shine of sun at the top of the hill. When my eyes finally focused, my heart climbed up my throat. The army had broken through. GarTaynia swelled with soldiers.

Still out of the army’s sight, Masseeia halted her company just under the ridge of the village. Ordered to the ground, I slid Saratiese from my arms, resting the girl in a bed of leaves. Saratiese shifted her eyes away from me, curling into a fetal ball. My heart sank, but I stifled it. This battle wasn’t over. I did my best to blanket the girl in foliage, then crept over to Masseeia.

The First Commander leaned up against the ridge, peering over its’ ledge. Grinding her teeth. Her face glared purple. Glancing back at me, her eyes cut me in two. Without words, she bruised her fingers into my shoulder, pushing me away and motioning me back down the hill. I nodded, heart beating hard, heading back down, but as soon as her eyes left me, I changed direction.

Cutting across the slope, I spotted a section of ridge veiled in thorn bushes. I crept through the trees, glancing back at Masseeia. The First Commander still engaged in her own watch, so I covered my binding with a protective elbow, and holding tight to my axe, burrowed into the thorns. The barbs dug into the dried Behto that cracked dry over my skin, nicking blood from the skin beneath, but I shoved through, tipping my gaze over the crest.

Among the scatter of soldiers stood Ariella’s company, the force appointed to protect the village. The women stood like statues, a hundred or more mounted soldiers pacing around them.

A young man, the army’s First Commander by the looks of his posture and position, trotted his steed around Queen Perseathea. He clad in black armor as well, but his shined clean. Not a drop of blood stained his skin, nor his blond hair. He clearly led men into battle without involving himself in the bloodshed. Side stepping his horse around the women, the man glowered down, searching their faces.

"We have come for the Amazon." The man proclaimed. “Bring her out.”

Taking a step toward the man, Queen Perseathea suggestively gripped her mammoth axe, the blades dripping with carnage. Unlike the arrogant officer, her body saturated in the blood of combat.

"The Amazon you speak of is here no longer." She announced flatly.

The First Commander raised his chin, but it did not hide his troubled eyes.

"Foolish women.” He looked around the crowd of Amazons again. “I know she is here."

"I told you.” Queen Perseathea kept the man pinned in her sight, her axe firm in her hands. “She is here no more."

I glanced at Masseeia. The woman gripped the ridge rock so hard that her hand blared purple. From several paces away, I could see the veins bulging on her arm. Staring back into the village, every sister seemed to be looking on the Queen, just as confused as I was. Not one of us among the sisterhood appeared to know who this Amazon was.

"You will tell me, Perseathea." A deep voice emerged, dark and intent from behind the First Commander.

Trotting out his ash black horse came an older, barrel chested man. His head slicked with a silverish raven hair shining in the heat. The First Commander, stiff jawed, stepped his steed back as the warlord passed by.

"I know the girl is here.” The man halted before Perseathea, looking down on her. “I know it better than you wager. Hand her over, young Queen, and I will leave you be."

After a moment of hesitation, Perseathea lifted her chin. “I will hand over not one. I will die first.”

“So it shall be.” Leaning on his hip, the warlord dipped his head to her, grinning. “It is humorous though, don’t you think?”

Queen Perseathea stood without a word to satisfy his question.

“Ask me, Belephron,” he said over his shoulder, his eyes still on the Queen. “Ask me what’s humorous.”

A bearded soldier who looked more like a hairy animal then a man growled as commanded. “What’s funny?”

The warlord smirked down on Perseathea as if she were an injured bird he planned to poke with a stick.

“It’s funny how she thinks we don’t remember. As if we would ever forget who she is. Oh yes. You make be all grown up now Perseathea, but I remember you.”

Queen Perseathea kept her stance solid, showing no reaction. The sisters kept their position as well, weapons at hand. Ready. Waiting for the command.

“I remember her.” The words oozed out like tree sap from the First Commander as he sank back in his saddle. “We all remember her.”

The men grunted in collective laughter, shaking their heads and grinning black and rotted teeth.

“Scared little piggy?” Belephron snorted. “Run piggy piggy.”

The soldiers grunted again. The warlord eased back in his saddle, jeering along with his men.

Perseathea yawned, dropping the blade end of her colossal axe to the dust, leaning against the staff.

“It’s been a long time since those days. Things have changed, Gragore.”

“Oh,” he mocked, “have they?”

“Have you not eyes?”

“Things haven’t changed enough to save you. Not you, or the one I seek.”

“Such threats, Gragore?” Perseathea asked. “Have you gone blind in your old age? You’ve lost a goodly portion of your army already.”

The man’s gray eyes darkened. “You know I will not rest until-”

“And,” Perseathea cut him off, “I know I have already told you. The one you search is here no longer.”

“You think I believe such a feeble lie?”

“I think it doesn’t matter what you believe.” Queen Perseathea kept her words bold. Unaffected. “I sent her away long ago. I knew you would come for her. Again.”

I watched as the Queen studied the village. The warlord paced his horse around her, mouthing on and on. And then I caught it, the Queen’s glimpse of our company tipping the ridge. She saw us. She knew we made it back. Alive. The Queen lifted her eyes to the warlord.

“Perseathea, I know your heart. You’ve kept her close.”

The Queen studied the position of her women as Gragore went on. I glanced around the village as well. Laidea’s company still held position of the wall. Ellah’s warriors had returned from the north side of battle and were on sneak, infiltrating the village. The soldiers hadn’t discovered our company yet. All that was left of the enemy army stood in the beating heart of GarTaynia. And they were surrounded.

“Give her up.” Gragore boomed, his impatience bleeding out as he raised a clenched fist.

Perseathea squared her jaw. “I will surrender nothing.”

“Foolish woman!” His face blared red. “You would have hundreds die in the place of one?”

“It will be your hundreds, Gragore. Not mine.”

“I will have her!”

“Retreat what’s left of your army.” The Queen’s words turned to stone as she pulled her immense blade back up into her hold. “Or be slaughtered.”

Gragore pulled his sword, hovering it at the Queen‘s face. “You will do as I demand or-”

"Attack!" The Queen shouted, kicking the blade from the warlord’s hand. The two armies melted into one another, sparking the battle again.

My company bolted up the ridge. I glanced back down the hillside to the tree I left Saratiese beneath. She was gone. Dread hit me, tightening my chest. Looking around, I saw her nowhere.

Scrambling, I pushed through the thorns, clawing up the hot rocks. I broke into the bodies, fighting hard, anguish firing my energy.

I fought for what felt like forever, until my eyes stopped. Panic, like a splash of ice water, lifted bumps on my skin. The Queen. Several soldiers were swarming the woman.

Queen Perseathea defended herself well, spinning her gigantic axe to lob off limbs and spray blood, but soon the sheer number of so many overtook her. The men ripped the blade from her hands, dragging her up the steps. Carrying her up to the alter, a near fifteen men struggled to hold onto her. She jabbed elbows and fists, bloodying lips and cracking jaws. Nearly tearing loose. She kicked and jolted, giving the soldiers a deadly challenge.

By the time I reached the alter steps, my body stung with countless flesh wounds. Mouth dry. Heart bruising. My hands shook. I looked up. The soldiers were shoving the Queen down, forcing her onto the alter. A horde of men held her down, a dagger lifting over their heads. Queen Perseathea fought, breaking loose, knocking the dagger from the man’s hand. The blade flew from his fingers, clanging down the stone steps. The mass of soldiers grabbed back into the Queen, pushing her back down as the man scrambled to retrieve his blade.

The Queen noticed me speeding up the steps toward her. Much to my surprise, her eyes flitted from me in a rush, alive with a new fear. A fear I had never seen on her before.

“Laidea!” She beckoned her Commander.

The auburn haired woman turned at her name, spotting the Queen, then me. The Commander called to her warriors, sprinting up the first row of steps.

Turning back to the Queen, I ran two steps at a time, lungs burning me toward the alter. Reaching the throng of men, I felt a sudden burn crack across my jaw, tossing me off balance. Slipping off the high row, I fell backward, tumbling down in a blur. Bruising into my hip, I stopped just before plunging down another row of steps. Landing at Laidea’s feet.

The Commander grabbed hold of my arm, lifting me. “Stay here!”

Taking her warriors with her, the Commander flew up the remaining steps, leaving me. I stood, confused, wondering about her command. Didn’t they need all the help they could get? Uncertain of what to do, I stood, watching Laidea rush toward the soldiers surrounding Queen Perseathea.

Seeing the approaching attack, the soldiers severed, bringing part of the men down the steps at them. Just as the two groups met, the word rung out.

"Retreat!" Gragore shouted.

The soldiers scattered. The men fighting with Laidea and her company turned from them and ran, descending down the other side of the alter. Laidea halted her women as the soldiers fled, then led them back down to me. Standing before me and breathing hard, Laidea kept her eyes from mine, looking instead to a warrior named Kelius.

“Keep an eye on her.” Laidea motioned to me. “I’m going after them.” Kelius agreed and Laidea took off, back up the steps, disappearing over the other side.

I looked to the village below. The army was withdrawing. Staring back up to the alter, my gut wrenched. I couldn’t take the thought. I couldn’t just wait here, doing nothing. I turned to hurry back up the steps, but quickly met with Laidea’s warriors.

“Hold here, Askca.”Hippolyta, the warrior who had saved my life earlier took me by the shoulder.

“Where is Queen Perseathea?”

“The Commander is after them.”

“But where are they taking her? And why? What if they kill her? I have to go after them!”

Hippolyta stiffened her grip. “Be still, warrior. Commander Laidea is after them. That should serve you comfort.”

I shook my head feeling the heat rising in my cheeks. Burning me into an angry flush. Why were they treating me like a kid? And how could they ask this of me? How could they expect any warrior to just stand by after witnessing such a thing? Did they not respect my allegiance? My sacrifice?

“Comfort?” I shouted, shaking loose of the warrior’s hold.

“Let her go.” Kelius said to Hippolyta, her dark eyes reassuring me.

At that, I raced up to the alter and jumped atop it, searching the village below. Hundreds of dead and dying lie in the blood soaked grounds of GarTaynia. My people cheered in victory as the soldiers fled into the sloping woods. I also saw Laidea, alone, running near the Temple. Dipping her head into huts. Searching.

Then, just for a moment, I glimpsed the Queen. Thrown over the front of a horse, under a cloak and tied down like a day pack, she, along with the men capturing her, disappeared beneath the ridge.

“They’re taking the Queen!” I shouted over and over, but no one seemed to hear me, too absorbed in their own shouts of victory.

Funeral fires burned deep into the night, lighting up the village with the orange glow of sorrow. The battle had been won, but my longing for a new life free of my past neared a death of its own. I stood alone, the flames warming my face… just as they had the night before. The haunting song of the dead suffocated my heart. And the goblet passed to my hand. Silent reverence covered another girl warrior as she held it out to me. I took the chalice, swirling its contents as my tears blended with the ashes of the dead. Crushed kernels and water mixed with the ash to create a potion of remembrance.

I lifted it to my lips, another tear trickling my cheek as I took the gritty vestiges into my mouth. Bland. Thick. Powerful. I swallowed, the pottage scraping like a rock down my throat. I lifted my eyes to the evening sky, whispering a prayer for the dead.

Passing the goblet on, I walked away, unable to bear the fires any longer. I departed to the Temple in search of sanctuary. I needed to cleanse my body of the red death now dry and cracking on my sore skin. I stepped into the dimly lit Temple. This night, it drained of every inspiration it had filled me with earlier in the day. I stepped bare footed across the cool alabaster till I reached the down winding hall. As I descended the steps, I could hear the echoes of splashing before my eyes met the fountains. The Hall of Divinity. The warm spring cascaded down marble into a round bath as the glow of torches danced across the water’s surface. Taking a deep breath, I breathed in the clean scent of the clear waters.

I stripped of my tunic, now stained stiff with the blood of my seeping battle wounds. I had been instructed to see the shamaness. To allow her herbs to heal me. But my soul hurt too much to speak with anyone yet. I hadn’t spoken since the battle. Not to anyone. I had nothing to say.

Hoping the spring would somehow baptize me of my guilt, I dipped beneath the warm water. Blood and Behto tainted the spring a muddy red, cleansing my wounds, but washing powerless over my grieving heart. There was too much blood that would not wash off. I knelt in the water, my body bruised deep with wounds and cuts, and before the great shrine, I prayed. Begged.

My heart felt sore and heavy, as if it were turning black in my chest. Dying. Staring up at the stone image of my Nation’s Mother, I cradled my amulet in my hand, sobbing like the child that still hid within me. A child, a scared and lonely child crying out for its’ mother… that‘s how I felt. Not like a warrior. Tears fell until my head ached, the day’s horror playing over and over in my head. I knelt alone for half the night, begging for strength and forgiveness. Begging for the courage to save my Queen.

Chapter 8

Amazons young and old made their way to the Assembly Hall towering at the edge of GarTaynia. Anxious mutters emanated the droves as they tread the dusty pathways winding up to the place where truth waited. The Assembly Hall’s wine colored granite touched into the cloud dappled sky, the sisterhood filing into its half mooned mouth. A sea of whispers echoed throughout the vast Hall until First Commander Masseeia was sighted, ceasing the words as she took her place at the forefront.

I stood nervous in the front row. Saratiese stood next to me, visibly scarred and shaken from the day before. She stared blankly ahead… like she wasn’t inside of herself, but instead wandering off somewhere else. Somewhere far away. Somewhere out of reality’s touch. I glanced at the girl, missing her. The real her that had been in my hut the day before. The girl I had pushed away. Now in her place stood an empty shell of Saratiese.

It haunted me because deep down I was struggling with what I had seen. The rapes stung fresh in my mind and I could barely keep my eyes on the girl because of it… which washed me over in guilt. Sleep the night before had been fitful for the same reason. Too much clouded my mind. The Queen, the battle, my own hands dripping with blood in the torch lights of the Temple. Not one moment of rest had come of it. I drifted my eyes away from Saratiese, clenching them shut, pushing the images to pass.

“Sisters of the Nation,” the First Commander’s voice echoed the place, her battle scarred face like stone. Resolute. “I come to you in the absence of our Queen. There is much confusion circulating as to what has happened. Where she is and if she is well. I will address these concerns, but first, it must be said. We’ve suffered a great tragedy. Many of our sisters have fallen, but in the end of it, we have prevailed. We are Amazons. Mighty warriors. We have crushed our enemy into retreat. A lesson they are not soon to forget.”

I listened, comforted by the First Commander’s solid words. She was right. The sisterhood was destined to overcome. The Nation would pull the tribes together for Queen Perseathea. A large company would be sent out. The remainder of this enemy would soon be destroyed beneath our numbers. Breathing in, reassurance filled me. This crippled army was no match for the Nation. Queen Perseathea was sure to make her return by the week’s end.

“The Amazon Nation is an unconquerable force not to be reckoned with. We stand strong. We will always, no matter the adversity, stand strong.” The First Commander dropped her eyes from the assembly, clearing her throat. “What I have to say now pains me greatly, knowing it will pain the hearts of all here today… but it is what you have come to hear.”

In those few moments of silence, my stomach dropped like a stone plunked into a cold river. The confidence I had just relaxed into began to dwindle. And the First Commander suddenly looked nervous herself, wringing her hands and hesitating as murmurs bubbled up in the great Hall. Where had this sudden turn in words come from? Queen Perseathea’s capture was a terrible and distressing thing, but it was nothing the Nation’s council of Queens could not handle.

Masseeia looked down again, and I could see the clench in her white knuckled fists. When she lifted her face back to the assembly, I held my breath.

"Our beloved Queen Perseathea… is dead."

A rush of cold bumps stung across me and my knees went weak… those two words icing over. Queen Perseathea had led GarTaynia for nearly seven summers. She was our most beloved Queen. Our hope. Our champion. My muse. Such news would be devastating to the Nation and her five, now four Queens. My stomach burned, twisting and turning.

But this wasn’t right. It couldn’t be. How could the First Commander know? Had word been sent? Something didn’t feel right. Saratiese looked to me, her blue eyes wide and questioning. I shook my head in reply, refusing to believe it.

Despair filtered through the crowd’s shock and collective cries rang out. Whispers tangled in with sobs, birthing disbelieving murmurs. A shadow of sadness consumed the great Hall. The First Commander allowed a handful of moments to pass before speaking again.

"I know the anguish this brings. It brims my own heart with magnificent grief. I know this is a tender matter.” The woman struggled to speak on, her voice wavering. “But the Queen’s rite must be called.”

I stood stunned, my air stolen from me as if I had been kicked in the stomach. I could feel a rigidness taking over the assembly, every warrior‘s back up at such words. I looked to Saratiese, who mirrored my concerns with an arched eyebrow.

“We must protect GarTaynia and her lands.” The First Commander continued, her tone increasingly determined. “It is dangerous to leave her in this state of uncertainty. Exposed. Vulnerable. A Queen must keep her. Queen Perseathea loved GarTaynia and her people. Would it not be her last wish that those she loved more than life itself be kept from harm? We have conquered our enemy, upholding our coveted land as our own. We have made known our skill and strength. Queen Perseathea's death is devastating and by far the most heart breaking trial that we’ve yet faced, but we must be certain to preserve our freedom. We must attest that even after such tragic battle, we still stand as a tribe in the most powerful Nation of this land. To uphold our power, our freedom, we must have a Queen. And our traditions proclaim the First Commander to receive the rite if the Queen dies before issuing it.”

Silence vanquished the hall. We all stood speechless. Unsettled. Wringing her hands, Masseeia stared back out on us as if she were waiting for agreement. Not one warrior spoke up.

My heart pounded. Masseeia was correct about the Queen’s rite falling to the First Commander in times of question, but there had been no explanation of the Queen’s death. No presentation of her body. No comfort in her sacrifice. Not even a full day had passed since her capture.

The First Commander lifted her chin. “I accept this rite of Queen-hood.”

Anger erupted across the Hall. My face grew hot. Burning. None of this made sense. I witnessed the Queen’s capture. She was taken alive. Even had Queen Perseathea met with death as the First Commander suggested, how could a loyalist attempt to take her place so soon after? Where was her allegiance? Her reverence?

The Hall of Amazons erupted, shouting, hurling questions at the First Commander. Masseeia put her palms up to silence the people.

"I know this is a time of confusion, but our Nation will certainly suffer if we do not appoint a new Queen. I am the first in command under the Queen’s right hand. It is Amazon law that without the Queen’s official appointment, it falls to me."

“You give her body not the time to see funeral flame before trying to take her rule!”

“Where is your proof?”

“This is treason!”

The shouts rang out from the crowd.

Masseeia scanned the assembly searching the rebel voices. “All your questions will be answered.” She lifted her palms again, this time in surrender. “This is not treason and it is not a desire to take Queen Perseathea’s rule. It is a desire to honor it. Do you believe that our beloved Queen would want us to fight amongst ourselves in this trying time? Would she be pleased to see us turning on one another? Back biting? Tail bearing?”

The crowd began to settle, mumbles replacing the angry shouts.

“This is a time for us to pull together. To build upon the foundation of our Nation, not to crumble it from the inside. Queen Perseathea was not only our Queen. She was also my friend. My closest friend. I’m doing no more than trying to respect her by keeping her people.”

“Lying to her people is more like it.” I took in a sharp breath. The words had escaped my mouth before I thought about where I was. Or who I was standing beneath. I immediately wished I could suck them back in and swallow. Hide them. Because now I felt like I might vomit. The First Commander’s posture stiffened and her dark eyes flashed down to me, pinning me to the floor.

“Askca.” She said my name like it was a dirty word. “Come. Be recognized by the sisterhood.”

My stomach knotted into a tight ball. Swallowing, I took the steps to face the First Commander. Standing before her, glints of my ceremony played out in my head. Her long black hair trailing through my blood. Her firm grip wrenching at my breast, an indifferent, calculated expression carved on her face as she amputated.

“Whatever it is you have to say, you can say before the Hall.”

I looked out to the sea of faces. All warriors. All women I admired and feared the day before. My heart fluttered, stealing my thoughts.

“Well?” Masseeia crossed her arms, reminding me that she’d never been too impressed with me. I never had got the feeling that the First Commander liked me much, if at all.

"The Queen must…” I stammered barely above a whisper,

“must pass the rite.”

“What?” She asked, hurling her impatience at me like a rock. “Speak up so that all might hear.”

I forced my eyes up from my feet, looking her in the eye. “The Queen must pass the rite. It is ritual.”

“Were you not here for my address? Yes, as I have said, this is customarily the way of it. But in death, there is exception.”

That one word, death, ignited the timid flame in me. Offending me. “But she’s… she’s not-”

“Speak up, young one.” Masseeia taunted. “You’re stutter is wasting my time.”

A burn of humiliation heated my cheeks. “The Queen is still alive.”

Masseeia shook her head, smirking. “The Queen is not alive, child warrior.”

“Yes-”

“She is dead.”

“I watched them take her!” I spat out, angry. I didn’t understand why Masseeia was saying these things, or why she believed them, but I couldn’t let her convince the sisterhood. I couldn’t let anyone, not even the First Commander, allow the Queen to be enslaved. Murmurs brimmed the Hall, but this time with a spark of hope. Realizing this, I pleaded with them.

“We must go after her. So much time has wasted already."

"Silence!” The word sprung like a poisoned dart from the woman’s lips and the assembly went quite under her demand.

An ominous crack thundered in tandem with a flash of white light, flashing throughout the Hall, turning every head to the arched atrium. At once, a wall of rain appeared, blurring the village outside like a dream. A mid-season storm summoned, rushing a heady scent of morning rain throughout the place.

Masseeia turned her eyes back to me. “You are but a child. A virgin warrior but by a day. The trials of battle have confused you.”

“But I saw-”

“Deceiving you with false hopes.”

“No. I saw them take her.”

“You saw what you wanted to see.” The First Commander’s words iced, warning me.

“But-”

“Your mind still blurred with the herbs of ceremony. You saw what the herbs showed you.”

“No!” I looked out to the crowd, beseeching them, begging them to believe me. I knew now that they were my last hope. “Please believe me. I saw the soldiers take her. Queen Perseathea is still-”

“My sisters,” Masseeia cut me off, turning her attentions back to the assembly, “I was witness to our great Queen’s demise. I saw the soldiers put the blade to her on GarTaynia’s own alter.”

“But she did not die there!” I shot back.

Masseeia turned a calm gaze. "You are quite the innocent, Askca. What you saw was a warlord’s retreat with what he came for. Perseathea’s death would profit him much. The body of an Amazon Queen is worth much coin.”

“How can you do this?” I looked up at the First Commander. “She is your Queen as well. You would rather see her dead than seek her out? I saw the soldiers take her down the ridge.”

“I saw her killed and her dead body taken down the ridge.” She paused, daring me. Pushing me.

“Liar!” I shouted, face burning.

Masseeia bolted toward me, grabbing my arm, groping into my flesh. “You do not question me.” Her fingers dug deeper, bruising as she leaned in, whispering in my ear. “You will not question me again lest you lust after the bloody taste of your tongue cut out.”

She shoved loose, tossing me backward.

“Amazons, the great and skilled warrior of one battle.” Masseeia gestured to me. “She holds mighty knowledge far greater than the warriors of this assembly or myself. She dares question your First Commander though she was no more than a child but a day ago!"

My skin felt like it was crawling off of me. Why were they turning on me? Why didn’t they believe me?

"Experienced warrior, if you were witness to our Queen’s capture, then why did you not go after her?”

“I tried to but-”

“Why did you not attack the soldiers?”

“I did-”

“Then,” Masseeia paused, “why is she dead?”

Silence took the crowd. I stood in my own quite, uncertain of what to say to this most feared of women. The First Commander glowered down on me. Waiting. Glowing in her intimidating position over me.

“I’ll warn you not once more. Silence your tongue before I rule it cut out.”

Trembling, I stood before the crowd of eyes, alone. A shiver froze into me. I needed to speak, but was uncertain of what to say… of how to say it. But something had to be said. I couldn’t let this happen. For the sake of my Queen, I dared to speak what I knew would carry heavy consequence. Lifting my chin, I stared up into the First Commander’s dark eyes.

“You have no allegiance.”

A blaze lifted Masseeia’s eyes. A flash of black hit me, throwing me to the granite in a bruising thud. Stunned, I held my aching jaw, blood seeping from my gums. The First Commander stood over me, anger swirling on her face like a storm.

“You will never again question my allegiance.” She ground the words out like gravel.

Tasting the tang of hot blood in my mouth, I swallowed. I‘d come too far. Still dropped from my feet, I stared up her.

“I know what I saw.”

The Hall kept silent. No one could believe I had dared speak again. I couldn’t believe it. No one had ever questioned the First Commander, especially not a sixteen year old warrior the day after her first battle. Another crash of lightening boomed through the Hall rushing a bitter breeze over the mass.

Commander Laidea, silent until this point, took a step forward from the front row. “First Commander, may I speak?"

"Be heard, Commander." Masseeia stepped away, leaving me on the floor.

"The Queen is not dead." Laidea kept a calm tone as the assembly filled with questions yet again. The auburn haired woman ascended the first few steps, looking out to the people. “My warriors and I attempted to save Queen Perseathea on the alter. As did young Askca. We failed her…” her words paused, “but she is not dead.”

“Commander Laidea,” Masseeia began, “you are clearly blinded by your affections for the Queen. I am sorry for your loss. Still, this you must accept. Her death is done."

"No." Laidea replied. “Not until I see it with my own eyes."

Lifting to my feet, I expected Masseeia knew it would be unwise to quarrel with the Commander. Laidea was too well respected among the tribe. Opposing her was not the path to what she wanted.

"Will your warriors stand behind you?"

"Yes, First Commander." Laidea said coolly.

“Askca.”

I turned. “First Commander?”

“I appoint you to a quest. Bring the Queen’s body back to GarTaynia for proper funeral fire. But take none of the steed. You will go on foot and with your own provisions. This quest is your quest, not one of the Amazons. You have my will, but you have not the aid of GarTaynia. Take who you must. Those who see this through the same misguided eyes as you, have my permission to stumble off after you.”

I nodded, surprised and relieved. I tried to breathe. “Thank you, First Commander.”

Ignoring me, Masseeia addressed the crowd again. “Whoever seeks to aid this girl, step forth now, but know this. Those partaking in this quest search to validate an herb induced lie, and by so are also implying that I, Queen Perseathea’s own right hand, and by Amazon Law, your new Queen, is a liar. Any such traitors need not return to GarTaynia.”

Rain fragrant wind rushed the Assembly Hall, cooling the congregation as I stood atop the granite, alone and waiting, begging the crowd with a hopeful stare. Laidea broke the silence, ascending the last few steps to stand at my side. Her most loyal warriors stepped out as well. One by one, they lined the stage. From the front row, Saratiese stepped out alone, her blue eyes focused on me as she came. A few moments passed before two braves made their way up from the back of the Hall. Then, a handful more. After that, the mass went still. No more dared to stand against the First Commander.

“It is done.” Masseeia declared with no effort to hide her smirk. She eyed our meager company. “These are more than enough hands to bring back a dead body.”

“She will be coming back.” I warned.

"If you think you can bring a dead Queen back to life with a few warriors and a handful of children, then may the gods be with you, Askca."

"And if you think the Queen will spare the life of a traitor,” my jaw tensed, “may the gods be with you.”

Chapter 9

We headed out at dusk, deep into the shadows of the sloping jungle. As I paced on in the warm breezes of twilight, I glanced over my company, a bite of dread gnawed on me. This isn’t what I had expected. I’d envisioned a company of thousands, led by the four Queens of the Nation, wealthy with its greatest warriors. Instead, we were but a handful.

Assembly had so consumed me, provoking me to prove myself and what I’d witnessed, that this kind of bleak reality had escaped my mind. Such small a number held little hope. We were tracking an army that had reached into a number of thousands at its onslaught. GarTaynia dwindled this number considerably in the battle, but at very least, it was now an army of hundreds. The sisterhood traveling the edges of GarTaynia this night held only eleven, and of these, only six were warriors. The last of us were braves. Young braves... children.

I took in a chest full of night air, refusing to dwell on such thoughts. This company was the Queen’s last hope. GarTaynia’s last hope, and in the circle of the sisterhood… the Amazon’s only hope. Queen Perseathea stood at the forefront of our Nation, a protector of our sacred freedom. Five Queens headed the five tribes of the Amazon Nation, and of these, Queen Perseathea stood as the most celebrated and legendary. She had led countless battles, saved many, and killed twice more of those who would threaten her people. Without her, the cornerstone to our Nation… I pushed the thought away. No matter the odds, destiny urged me on this night, and in my heart, I could feel the power of the Goddess leading me.

I settled my gaze on the tracks, my thoughts carrying me a great distance out of GarTaynia. Farther than I’d ever traveled before. The company now trekked through black and looming trees, cluttered so dense I could narrowly see a pace ahead. This deep into the night, weariness hung over our heads like a storm cloud. No one had known proper rest since before the battle.

I looked up through a web of tree branches and hissing leaves. The moon cast a faint but mystical glow over the night. A chorus of locusts buzzed, hidden by nightfall, but loud and overpowering. I dropped my eyes back to the path. And froze. I slipped my axe from its sheath, eying the darkness, creeping up to the brush where the twig snapped. My mouth went dry. The eerie brush washed in black like the holder of some unholy thing, thin branches protruding like black boned fingers.

And with a shake, the fingers moved. I glanced back to my company. Saratiese and Malaia instantly pulled in the two closest braves. Kelius grabbed her own young sister by the scruff, drawing the young girl in behind her. Another brave parted her lips to speak, but was silenced by a hand clamping over her mouth. Every warrior’s bow went up, pulling taunt. Laidea eyed her friend Hippolyta. The two warriors held solid gaze until Laidea motioned with her head. Hippolyta nodded, light stepping around me.

I approached the bush, staring without a blink. My breath sucked deep into my chest, holding there. Every bow behind me pulled tighter. I clenched my axe handle… taking a cautious step. And the brush jerked.

A dark figure sprung from the leaves, shoving into me. I tumbled onto my back in a breath crushing thump. Immersed in shadows, the small figure struggled on top of me, trying to pin me. I grabbed a head full of hair, pulling back to expose a neck. I angled my blade, ready to slice.

“Askca no!” Laidea shouted, pulling the figure off of me. Catching my breath, I looked up to see a child. The Commander dropped the girl to the dust, turning her around by her shoulders.

"Palius-”

“Palius?” I questioned from the dirt.

“What are you doing this far from GarTaynia?” Laidea clenched her palms around the girl’s diminutive shoulders, harder with every apprehensive word. “It’s too dangerous."

Now calm, the child answered the Commander with grave words, words holding a much older soul than that of a little girl.

"Queen Perseathea needs me."

I lifted to my feet, dusting off. “Then why not come forward at assembly?"

"I tried.” The child smeared a dot of blood from her neck with her wrist. “One of Masseeia’s warriors held me back. Said I was too young, not even a brave yet.”

“You are too young.” I shook my head.

It was bad enough that the company’s braves were already so young, but this girl, she was a baby. Taking her on the quest would serve more as babysitting.

Laidea sighed, lifting her face to the full moon. "It’s too late to take you back now.”

“Commander?” I questioned. “She is not even a brave, and we can‘t afford-"

“She has right.”

The woman cut me off. Surprising me. "But… she's a child."

“She has right to serve her Queen. She is still an Amazon.” Laidea raised an eyebrow, daring me. “It was not so long ago that you were a child, Askca."

"She’s what? Six, seven winters?” Anxiety tensed my chest. “She will only serve to slow us down."

The company gathered around us, gawking the confrontation in voyeuristic silence. Palius hovered close at Laidea‘s hip, shining her big eyes up at me.

“What if,” I lowered my voice, “what if she is killed?”

"We might all be killed.” Laidea’s words fell flat. “Palius, child or not, deserves to prove her allegiance to Perseathea."

"But she-"

"The child has purpose to be here." The Commander’s eyes narrowed, her tone now harsh, warning me to back off.

All the sisters looked to Laidea. It seemed as though the Commander knew something, but if she did, she kept it hidden to herself.

"Even if she didn't,” she went on, “the village is too far back and we’ve yet to rest since the night before the battle. If we waste our strength and time taking her back, we’ll have no strength against the enemy.”

I stepped back, remembering Laidea's authority. I looked to the woman with an apologetic glance.

“Yes Commander.”

“Now,” Laidea began, “let’s search a safe place to bed down. We’ve traveled well enough for this night. Tomorrow we will wake at sunrise and travel three fold the land we have covered tonight."

Within a short spell, we found fitting ground and bedded down, weapons in hand. Commander Laidea took first watch. She crept back into the winding vines, clawing her way up a tree, sitting wholly cloaked in darkness as she took watch over our small company.

The sounds of night enveloped me. A jungle night thrived with the growls of countless beasts. Hunting. Devouring. Reminding me of the blood thirsty battle the day before. I pondered this mysterious Amazon the men sought, and a wave of cold took my skin, clenching into my heart. There was something ominous plaguing me. Weighing down my thoughts. My heart. Whoever the soldiers sought, she had been important enough to wage war for. The feeling that this whole thing was bigger than me, bigger than the battle, and even bigger than Queen Perseathea, sunk into my chest. Thinking on this, I drifted in and out of dreams, blood staining the right side of my tunic. My ceremonial wound. The mark of my beginning. Holding my amulet tight in my hand, I drifted deeper.

Chapter 10

I awoke to the sweet smell of morning. Various shades of humid green glistened in the treetops, leaves sparkling with dew, as the morning grew golden with a brilliant sunrise. A sultry breeze soothed my body, tickling Saratiese's autumn locks across my shoulder. The strands danced over my skin, bringing a flush of warmth to my body. My lips curved with a smile and I warmed under the sensation… until I realized my deed. The moment I did, I cast down my smile, turning away from the girl. Things were complicated enough.

The morning breeze then found its way through my tunic, waking my chest with a sting. Where there had once been a young and supple breast, lay an empty, stained binding, dried with blood. I sat up to remove the wrap. My left breast bruised tender to the touch, the soreness of my wound crawling across my whole bosom. The wound cracked dry and tight as I plucked the stiff wrap slowly off the colony of scabs. The blisters ached, begging to be soothed in cool water. Rations would not allow use of the drinking water, so I set out for the closest stream. One would be close in this land of rivers.

I slipped my tunic down over my remaining breast, discontent to dress in my leathers simply to search out a stream. Lifting to my feet, I took in the breeze, smelling for water. But my gaze found Malaia, and my jaw dropped. The warrior nuzzled against a tree, sleeping.

Standing silent before the slumbering woman, I pondered what I should do. Without another moment’s thought, my anger surged, and I kicked Malaia square in the knee.

Malaia’s eyes flashed open as she gasped, pain apparently screaming through her leg. Before her next breath, Malaia swept her other foot under, dropping me like a rock. I scrambled back up, jumping into the woman, initiating what soon flared into a passionate brawl. The warrior caught me, tossing me back. I came back at her with another jump. Catching me by the shoulder, Malaia yanked me under her tight hold. I stood, clamped under the elbow, my face burning as I clawed her arm trying to get free.

"Askca." She warned through gritted teeth.

I strained with choke, my fingers digging deeper into the woman’s skin.

“Calm yourself.”

Embarrassed and angry, I responded with more struggle. “Calm yourself and I’ll let you go!”

After more moments than sensible, realizing that the stronger and more experienced warrior had the upper hand and was in no position to lose it, I finally stilled. Malaia let loose, pushing me away. I swung back around, cutting eyes at her.

"You slept your guard!" I exploded in a ragged burst, gasping to get my breath back.

The sisters, already awakened by the confrontation, stood staring us. I could see Laidea rubbing the tension from her forehead. Letting out a sigh, the Commander rose to her feet. One raised eyebrow dominated her expression as she approached.

Pointing an accusing finger before Laidea could misunderstand, I tried to explain. "I woke up and found her sleeping guard."

"You attacked me.” Malaia shouted back. “Do the herbs still cloud your head?"

Fuming, I jolted another kick into Malaia’s knee. The woman let out a raspy groan that sounded more like anger than pain. Eyes burning, she latched onto a handful of my hair, yanking me back into her before I had the time to counter.

Laidea jumped between us, halting Malaia’s arm. Under the Commander’s cold glare, Malaia loosened her fingers, taking a step back.

“She brings harm to her own sisters, Commander.”

"I bring harm to my sisters?” I shouted from behind Laidea. “We could have been slaughtered because of you!”

The Commander turned, hovering a palm at my chest, her eyes impatient.

"Askca… stop it." She warned. “With the quest before us, you choose this time to quarrel?”

The Commander eyeballed Malaia and I both. The company stood quite. As insight sunk in, so did my pride. What was I doing? How could I be so mad at someone who was only here to help?

“Queen Perseathea waits… and you quarrel.” The disappointment in the Commander’s voice rung clear. Malaia and I dropped our heads, staring at the dirt.

Laidea shook her head. “We have no time for children. No time.”

Malaia kept her head bowed. "Yes, Commander."

“Yes, Commander.” I swallowed, following cue. The auburn haired woman stood between us, taking in a deep breath.

“Malaia.” She paused, waiting as the warrior looked up. “Sleeping guard? You know the risk of such an offense. It shames you.”

“Yes, Commander. But I-”

“It will get us killed.”

“Yes, Commander.” Malaia dropped her eyes back to the dirt.

“Askca.” Humiliation caught my breath in my throat. “Malaia is your sister. This company is your sisterhood. We are one. We can not defeat the Gragorian if we stand divided."

“Yes, Commander.” I held my breath, wanting to slink under a stone. I could feel the burn in my cheeks, exposing my embarrassment. So far, as a warrior, I wasn’t doing so well. I’d waited endless days to become a warrior, a vital part of the Amazons, and now in it, I seemed to sabotage myself.

“We are unified in the power of the goddess. Therefore, we are one.” Laidea paused, looking over the girls. “We are called to this quest for one reason and one reason only. Queen Perseathea.” The Commander shoved past the company. “Put your differences aside.”

Leaving us to share a knowing glance, the woman stomped off. One thing was clear. It would serve us best to keep lips tight.

After Commander Laidea spent time to herself, and the sun rose high into the morning sky, the woman came back before our company.

“Sisters. Since the First Commander saw it unfit to supply us with food, it’s time we hunt.” She glanced over the girls. "Saratiese, take the braves. Warriors, tend to the water rations and fire. We don‘t have long to tarry.”

"I want to hunt.” A child’s voice came at Laidea’s hip. The warrior looked down to find Palius staring back up at her.

"You cannot hunt with the braves until you are a brave yourself.”

“But-”

“Young Palius,” Laidea crouched down to the girl and gave whisper, “I’ll do you this much. Go into the jungle and hunt on your own. If you return with a kill, then you shall be named brave."

Palius lit up.

“Commander, have we the time?” I questioned. “She will get herself lost.”

Laidea rose back to her stance. "Palius is a bright one.” The child smiled at the compliment. “She will return in time. If she does not, we go without her.”

Palius' smile dropped. The Commander looked back down to her.

"Go."

The girl nodded with bright eyes, then darted off into the trees. Laidea glanced back at me.

"There is a matter we must tend."

Once Palius found herself far from camp, she slowed her pace. A quick look over her shoulder and she bent down, feeling inside of her boot. Her finger slid over a dagger’s handle. With a relieved sigh, she continued her creep deeper into the dark of trees. She wasn’t certain of how to hunt in such narrow a time. The louder the forest became, the more alone the young child felt. Birds flew overhead, screeching. The wind gusted, pressing through the trees like an invisible wave as the whine of a distant boar stopped her. Too far away. A large snake twisted around a nearby tree, but the thing would slither around Palius, squeezing the life from her and she knew it. Resuming her pace, she kept eyes wide to any beast she might conquer.

The sun filtered through branches, warming her shoulders… then something unseen happened. And struck her. Hard. Tossing her back into the leaves. Ripping the breath from her lungs. Eyes wide, the child stared without a blink. Quite came, and a whirlwind of images rushing her.

Red blood from pale. White gleams. Gold speckled black. The shine of a silver blade. Red blood. Blood red.

The images swirled over. Consuming her. Taking her into them. Then… blackness. Just as quickly as they had come, the visions sucked away. Her head spun empty. She lay there, her surroundings slowly fading back in. The real coming back. Palius stared up into a canopy of greening leaves as they lifted in the wind with glints of blue sky peeking behind.

Breath streamed into her chest, and she swallowed, coming back to herself. She lay sunken against the cooling earth, as if the goddess had pressed her body into it with a heavenly palm. As if nothing had happened, the jungle surrounded her once again. Palius sat up, plucking the leaves from her blond curls. A refreshing breeze wafted over, waking her further from the vision. After a moment of thought, she slipped a hand into her boot, sliding out the dagger, and with a sniff, she wiped a trickle of blood from her nose with a quick forearm. Looking at the smear of blood, she lifted, knowing now what to do.

Stretching out her blood smudged arm, she pressed the blade into her pale skin. Closing her eyes, she held her breath, and in one swift prick, her arm stung with a crescent shaped slice. The skin flap opened to ooze warm red down her arm.

"Commander?" I sat down next to the woman, away from the others.

Laidea glanced back, making certain no one would overhear her words.

"Askca, our time is short. I’ll make it brief. There are things you must know.”

“What things?” I asked, curious as she leaned in closer.

“Things you should have been told long ago. There is a prophecy, a destiny decided for a nation…." Laidea paused long, as if she were questioning her own words.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, watching the woman search her mind. She possessed such courage and calm, but in this instant, she appeared shaken beneath her surface. Her forehead tensed. Her eyes kept darting between me and the company. Whatever she had to say, she wanted it kept secret.

“The task I have this day is a difficult one, Askca. For me, far more taxing than battle. Battle is clear. To be conquered. A line drawn. But words… words fair far more tricky, cutting beyond flesh into the soul.”

My heart fluttered at her words. “Whatever it is, Commander, I can take it.”

She took a deep breath. “If, by the will of darkness, the Queen is dead-”

“Dead?” I cut in. “How can you even breathe life into such a word?”

Laidea held a finger up to silence me. After glimpsing back at the company, she put her gaze back on me.

“You must keep your words low.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Look. I would dare not speak it if there were not need, Askca, but there are things that you must be told. Our time runs short.”

“What things?”

“There is a possibility that Per…” Laidea cleared her throat, “Queen Perseathea is already gone from us, and if she is-”

“Why do you speak like this?” The upset in my words began to flare again.

“Because if she is, there is a prophecy coming.

“I can’t put my thoughts on death.” I tried to breathe. Tried to calm myself. “I risked… we risked all we know for this quest. For Queen Perseathea. If you believe she is already dead, then why come at all?”

Laidea rubbed at her forehead again. “Don’t be offended, young warrior. I am not trying to put our Queen in the funeral fire. I am the last person who would-” her words cut short. “I am warning you because you have to understand, Askca. She is well out numbered and worth a large sum of coin.”

“But-”

“Heed me!” Irritation broke into the Commander’s whisper. “These words are hard enough.”

“Yes, Commander.” I apologized.

“She is Queen Perseathea of the Amazons. Head of Queen Council. The price on her head is greater than that of any other Queen in the Nation. She is worth much coin and reputation to many a warlord. Above them all, Gragore… his is an even darker purpose.”

I looked to my feet, fighting the upset behind my eyes. I realized how difficult things were for Laidea now because of her closeness with the Queen. But these words, these terrible and bleak words were cutting my heart open. Without Queen Perseathea, I had nothing to go back to. GarTaynia would spit me out. None of us were welcome back. Not only did I love Queen Perseathea, but also GarTaynia. If I were expelled from our number, from the Amazons, my life was at an end.

“I won’t give up.” I mumbled.

“I’m not asking you to.” Laidea put her hand on my knee. “I will not give up till the chosen fate has past. But I need you to be prepared if the Queen has met with death. I love her as well, Askca. More than you, or any other in GarTaynia….” Laidea’s words trailed off, drifting as she collected herself. “But we live a different sort of life, Askca, and you are well knowing of that. We know death and it knows us.”

I jerked my head up. “That does not mean that Queen Perseathea is dead.”

“No.”

“Then why must you speak of it?” I questioned, feeling the tears pushing, warming. I pulled my knees into my chest, glaring ahead, trying not to cry. I knew I was irrational, emotional at best, but I couldn’t help my rush of words. “Is it what you want? Is that why you have come? To return only with her body?”

“Askca,” the Commander’s words went to stone, “you are thin skinned. You must put off such softness if you hope to be a strong warrior. You must hope for the greater good, but prepare for the greatest evil.”

“No! I will have none of this!” I pushed up to my feet, choking back the sob caught in my throat. “I bid you no disrespect Commander, but I have no interest in your prophecies if they call for the Queen’s death.”

I offered no glance back as I walked away, leaving Laidea to suffer her words alone.

Chapter 11

Saratiese led a line of braves out of the woods, their small arms overflowing with dead hare and a bloody boar draping her own shoulders. She headed toward Laidea, who still sat in front of the morning’s fire. Dropping the wild pig in front of the Commander, Saratiese looked about the camp.

"Has Palius the Mighty returned yet?"

Laidea looked up with a cool glare. "No.”

Saratiese backed away. “I’ll get the food ready.”

The Commander stretched her neck, trying to relieve the stress clenching her muscles, forcing her thoughts off of Askca. Looking around, she settled instead on Valasca, the eldest of the braves, and her closest friend Belsiphiny.

“Braves there,” she snapped at the two, “help Saratiese with the meat.”

The braves nodded, going to the task. Laidea eased back onto her elbows, trying to clear her mind for the day’s quest, but observing the younger braves brought no such peace of mind. Kia-Maie, a brave of only ten summers, fluttered around Saratiese like a curious moth, picking at the dead rabbits in an effort to help.

”Kia-Maie!” The child’s eyes flashed to the Commander, startled. Laidea took a moment, regaining her calm. “Come rest by me. Tilliandre, Lathenia, come also.”

As the three retreated, Saratiese gave the Commander a grateful smile. Getting on with her skinning, she noticed that even though the warriors had returned with the water and prepared the fire, Askca was still unaccounted for. Shoving the thoughts off, she discussed the quest with Valasca and Belsiphiny, cooking the meat and saving pelt as they went, but all the while her mind kept straying back to the line of trees.

After what felt like half the morning passed, I emerged from the trees, a heavy heart weighing in my chest. Saratiese got to her feet at the sight of me, but the last thing I wanted to do was talk. I walked past her, hoping she would sense my mood.

I took my place a stone’s throw from the fire, distant from the others. Farther still from Laidea. But I could feel the Commander’s eyes on me. I glanced up, but only briefly. I couldn’t hold her gaze. When Saratiese came and sat next to me, I didn‘t look up. The girl began squiggling shapes in the dust with a nervous finger. Awkward silence sunk in.

“If you’re hungry,” she started without looking up, “the food should-”

"Do you think Queen Perseathea is dead?"

"I… um…. No.” Saratiese stammered, most likely taken aback by my deliberate conversation with her.

“You don‘t?”

“No.” She shrugged. “If I did, why would I be here?”

I threw my hands up, already feeling browbeaten. "Well… popular notion seems to be she could be.”

“Well, it’s possible but-”

“If the First Commander is right, we are out here for no other reason but to stand trial for treason.” I drove a stiff finger into the dirt, punctuating the last three words. “To lose our home at best, our lives at worst. What other reason would bring the First Commander to issue this quest? There is nothing she must agree to. Masseeia is First Commander. She rules in the Queen’s absence, and the Queen is clearly absent.”

I clenched my jaw, never able to suppress my emotions. When I open my mouth, there seems to be no stop in the flow. All my anger gushes out. If anyone knew that well, it was Saratiese.

“She ordered us to bring the Queen’s body back for proper funeral flame.” Saratiese paused. “I think she’s just trying to prove her point.”

“No. This quest gets us out of her way. We can’t oppose her rule if we are not there.”

I combed the hair from eyes with tense fingers, playing over the First Commander‘s words at Assembly. Her harsh tone. Her dark and cutting glare. The woman relished my humiliation. Thrived on it. It was as if my pride had been kicked in the gut and dropped to its’ knees at her feet. Masseeia hated me for no obvious reason. But the Queen, she had treated me tenderly at my Allegiance Ceremony. Her touch soft and caring. Night and day to the harsh woman Masseeia was.

“She could already be dead, Sara.”

Saratiese put her arm around me, pulling me in as I stared at her squiggles in the dust. “Maybe, but if Queen Perseathea is no longer Queen, do we want to go home?”

The words struck me. GarTaynia is home, but Queen Perseathea is GarTaynia. I didn’t know if I could bare Masseeia’s rule. The warrior was like a cold stone in deep snow. She fell so short of the warmth and integrity Queen Perseathea embodied. I looked into Saratiese’s cobalt eyes, a tinge of seriousness cooling our personal glance.

“I don’t know if we can go back, Sara. Even if we want to. Not now. Not without Queen Perseathea.”

“I know.”

“You knew that when we left, didn’t you?” I waited for the answer to come in her silence, but I knew already. This was Saratiese’s way, her way of proving to me. Her way of healing things between us.

Palius crept across the jungle floor, dripping her blood into the dirt. Seducing with her scent. A few crawls later, she stopped, staring into a patch of thick brush. Something watched her. Smelled her. She lifted into a crouch, dagger in hand.

The brush shuddered with a hiss. She backed up. Staring. Black eyes peered out, devouring her from deep in the leaves. An adolescent jaguar, not fully mature, outlined in the brush. Hunching into its hind legs. Head low. A golden coat dotted black. Her breath caught in her throat. Beads of sweat surfaced her skin. A deep, but juvenile growl shook the bush. The cat was of a smaller size, but still possessed blade sharp claws and teeth.

Palius eyed the bush. Her heart racing. Mouth dry. The animal hunched closer to the earth. Its’ rumble went quite. Palius held tight to her dagger, sweat smearing her palm. The bush shook and with a flash of fur and the beast lunged, pummeling into Palius.

"Askca,” Saratiese went on, “I came because I know that Queen Perseathea is alive. You watched them take her. She was alive then and she is alive now.”

“But how can you know?” I questioned, wanting deeply for the girl to convince me.

“They won’t kill her.”

“That’s not how Masseeia sees it.”

“Askca, they want us to come after her.”

“Want us to come after her? What? Why?”

Hesitant, Saratiese looked away from me.

“What are you not telling me, Sara?”

“Nothing.” She gave a quick shrug. “But don’t you think that if they wanted her dead they would have finished what they started on the alter?”

She was right. If they came to kill the Queen, then why didn’t they just finish her when they had the chance? The woman put up a goodly fight, but why not just put an arrow through her from paces away? Why the alter? Why a dagger? Why so ritualistic?

“We’ve never known that army.” My words lingered, curious. “Why us? Why GarTaynia?”

“They must have reason.” Saratiese said. “An Amazon Queen is worth much dead, but not enough to risk the massacre of more than half your men.”

“They asked for an Amazon.” I narrowed my eyes, scooting closer to Saratiese to keep our words between us. “The Amazon.”

“Yet they never named her.” Saratiese added. “And the Queen refused to hand her over.”

“So Queen Perseathea went in place of this Amazon….”

“She did.” Saratiese stopped as my eyes flashed up. “Askca, don’t bid this too much thought.”

“Saratiese, Queen Perseathea knew that warlord. She remembered him. I could see it in her.” I slowed my words, thinking. “She knows him and he knew her as well. It shown plain on his face. It’s not GarTaynia and it’s not the Amazons. It’s the two of them… but that doesn’t make sense. She’s shielding something though. Something sacred enough to be captured for.” I sank deeper into my thoughts as Saratiese put a hand on my knee.

“Let us eat. We’ll dwell on such things after.” Saratiese helped me to my feet as we both glanced around camp, curious to find Palius.

"Where is Palius the Mighty?" Saratiese said in a lighter tone.

I giggled, feeling a bit better. "Palius, righter of wrongs.”

“Huntress of the sun. Slayer of tiny fowl." Saratiese broke out in laughter, well amused by her own jest.

I delighted in the sight of my friend’s long lost merriment. This was the first time in over a cycle that I’d seen her laugh, and after what happened to her in the battles, it reminded me of how strong the girl could be. It reminded me of what we use to be. Saratiese went on to hold her stomach and smack her own knee several times in her glee.

"It wasn’t that funny, Sara. Come, let’s eat.” Saratiese fell hindered by her own red faced merriment. I pulled the girl’s chin up. “You haven’t put a hand to the vision herbs, have you?”

“What?” The question made Saratiese laugh all the more.

“I guess it’s laugh or cry at this point, isn’t it?” I tugged on the girl’s wrist. “Let’s eat.”

When the fire glowed only embers, Laidea cast a watchful eye. The braves sat scattered about her feet, eating as she watched the trees. After long moments, she took a rueful breath.

"It’s time we go." Her face was stone, but on the inside she worried painfully. Palius had not returned. She knew the company must move on and if the child could not carry her own hunt then she could never carry a quest. It was better the girl be lost and hungry for a few days than dead. The Commander had faith in Palius, but she could not allow this more than its time. Positioning her two axes in the sheaths at her hips, she looked to her warriors.

"Kelius.”

The woman looked up, her midnight eyes questioning. “Commander?”

“Make provisions.” The warrior nodded and Laidea looked to the rest of them. “What food you can not store in your pouch, wrap it in the large leaves and carry it on your backs. I don’t want to hunt on this quest again." Kelius, along with the others, began their task.

I walked over to the Commander, my stomach tightened by our earlier words.

She looked to me. “Askca?”

I dropped my head, still unable to face the woman. “What about Palius?”

“We have no more time. We must go.”

“But, what if-”

“The goddess will watch over her.” Laidea put her palm to my shoulder, surprising me with the comforting gesture. “Palius is a bright child. She’s not defenseless. She’ll find her way back to GarTaynia.”

I could feel the worry emanating Laidea’s words, but held my tongue. This was for the best.

"Palius!" Belsiphiny shouted in surprise.

The blond child appeared out of the trees, soaking in blood, the whites of her eyes gleaming through the red. She staggered, cradling something in her arms.

Laidea sprinted out. As she neared Palius, the great gashes covering the girl became clear. Long, deep slashes lined her face and arms. Laidea dropped to her knee, grabbing the girl. Palius looked to her, parting her lips. No words, just blood. She held out the severed head of the young jaguar, blood draining its crude stem as if it still pumped red life. The Commander swept Palius up into her arms. Her calm demeanor still dominated her expression, but her eyes revealed her fear. Welling in bruises and soaking in fresh blood, Palius spoke.

“Am…” the child stopped to swallow the blood in her throat. Her words shallow. Broken. “Am I a brave now?”

Laidea felt a rush of warm swell her chest, but she pushed it down. With a forced smile, she replied.

“Yes, young Palius. You’re a brave now.”

The little girl gave a half smile, closing her eyes as Laidea smoothed the blood from her cherub face. She held Palius close to her bosom as she sprinted back to the others. Laying the bludgeoned child in a circle of her sisters, guilt covered Laidea. She had never expected the girl to risk such prey. She had anticipated a rabbit. Palius had outwitted the young jaguar, but only by chance. She was more than she appeared to be, and deep down, Laidea knew she should have expected as much.

Smoothing bloody hair from Palius’ cheek, Laidea held her hand to the child’s chest. It rose and fell in shallow shudders.

“Water.” The Commander ordered.

The copper haired brave known as Lathenia handed over her pouch. Laidea washed Palius’ wounds, lifting her head to cleanse the blood and teeth from her mouth. “Palius….” She waited for a response, but none came. She poured water over the child’s face. No reply. Laidea looked up to Hippolyta. “She’s alive, but we must get her to a healer. Now.”

Hippolyta nodded, immediately taking charge of the company so Laidea would be free to think on Palius alone.

“Everyone, gather your things quickly. We leave now.” As the company scattered, Hippolyta put a hand on Laidea’s shoulder, whispering. “She’ll make it.”

Laidea lifted the limp child back into her arms. A short time out of GarTaynia and the quest had already shown its’ gruesome nature. Taking a child, covering her in blood, then returning her near death.

The braves, Tilliandre, Valasca, Belsiphiny, Lathenia, and Kia-Maie appeared deeply effected by the tragic morning, holding back sobs, but not tears. Being closest in age, they were friends with Palius. And the moment the child had emerged the trees, a crimson trophy of her own prey, they all knew. Not all of them were going to make it back from this quest. And the ones able to hold onto life, clutching at it with desperate fingers, would only live to see the others die.

Laidea’s head swirled dizzy with such thoughts. She walked ahead of the rest in a daze, cradling Palius, trying to be the Commander her company needed. That Palius needed. There was no place for her thoughts or emotions now. Only to do.

With every step the unconscious child bounced limp in her arms, blond curls sliding in a paste of blood and sweat against her chest. Holding a hand over Palius’ cheek, Laidea pressed the child into the thumping of her heart, recreating the comfort of her womb.

Chapter 12

“This is my chance to kill Perseathea.” Masseeia seethed, trotting her golden mare through the scorching heat. “I’ve planned for far too long to have it stolen from me now.”

Cyrenna agreed from below, walking her own steed through thick morning jungle.

“I have suffered much, Cyrenna. Sacrificed. I deserve this rite. I went through Hell when they left me.” Masseeia paused, disturbed by her own memories. “I have much to repay.”

Cyrenna kept quite, keeping her eyes to the over grown path, careful to never eyeball the First Commander. She knew well not to rouse the woman.

“And as for his Amazon… oh she’s coming, isn’t she? I’m hand delivering her. I should have known he’d do this.” Masseeia dipped beneath limbs, gritting her teeth. “I knew he wouldn’t kill her until he had the prize in his greedy hands. I should have Perseathea’s head on a stick by now! On the alter was his word, Cyrenna! Poetic and just. Simple. Just cut it off. Crude and bloody, just like my life, but no. Gragore stops it, retreating.”

Distracted by a print, Cyrenna halted her horse, her stomach pulling tight at the thought of interrupting the First Commander.

“But I’m not so trusting either. No. I marked her in the blood and I would have given her over to him. The moment I saw Perseathea’s decapitated body, it would have been done. But I wasn’t going to give up my end of the deal, not until Gragore met my demands. As if I’d be so foolish.”

Cyrenna studied the print as Masseeia trotted passed, arm flailing, punctuating every angry word.

“No. I will not let him have his Amazon until I have Perseathea’s head.” A sly expression crept across Masseeia like a garden snake. “As a loyalist to our beloved Queen, it will be my honor to bring her body back to GarTaynia for proper funeral rites. It’s the least I can do considering Askca and her friends will so regrettably fall into deadly, yet not so unexpected, misfortune.”

“Masseeia?” Cyrenna forced the mumble to her lips, nervous to disrupt the verbal lashing. The First Commander trotted on, snapping twigs between determined fingers.

“Gods! If he’d just killed her on that alter I wouldn’t have to do all this!”

Cyrenna tried again. “Masseeia?”

“I shouldn’t be out here. I should be in the Queen’s chamber soaking in my well deserved reverence by now.” The First Commander stopped, looking around to realize her friend to be some paces back.

“First Commander, look at this.”

Masseeia turned her mare, shifting her glance to the print in the mud. She slipped from her horse to get a closer look. “The footprint of a child.”

Cyrenna raised an eyebrow. “And far smaller than any of the braves questing.”

Masseeia hunched down. “Well, well. When there is a call, there is a call for them both.”

Cyrenna’s eyes questioned, but Masseeia kept her thoughts quite, settling instead into a content sneer as she straightened back into posture.

“Do you think the child is with Laidea’s company?” Masseeia snickered, but gave no answer as Cyrenna lifted to stand. “Either way, the mud around this track is smooth. Whoever the child is, she was alone at this point in her journey.”

“It is well.” Masseeia massaged her chin, pulling her horse into a walk. “I know just where the little one is headed. And I know Laidea. By the look of day,” she cocked her head, a hand shielding her eyes from the bright heat, “they’ve traveled this morning already.”

Cyrenna kept pace behind the warrior. “How is it you know Laidea so well?”

“Sister Amazon, you learn much when your eyes and ears are open, as mine have been since I came to GarTaynia.”

“But how will we overpower the company? Laidea is a most skilled Commander and her warriors are among the best and-”

“Her warriors are among the best? My warriors,” Masseeia jabbed a firm finger into her own chest, “are the best. Do you doubt me?”

Cyrenna froze, eyes wide. “No. No, of course not.”

“Do you doubt that I am a superior warrior to Laidea?”

“No, Masseeia.”

“I am the First Commander. The right hand to the Queen. Not a second hand with second hand skill sailing under nepotistic privilege.”

Cyrenna dropped her head to avoid the woman’s searing eye contact. “You are far more skilled. I fear your position.”

“Then you’ve no need to worry over my plans, do you?”

“No.”

Masseeia lingered, relishing her domination over the woman. “I will inform you of my plans when I see fit.”

“Yes, First Commander.”

Masseeia regained her pace. “Until then, do not insult me with your disrespect.”

“I never meant-”

Masseeia whipped around to meet the woman in the middle of her pace. “Cyrenna,” she leaned in uncomfortably close to the woman, “I’ve planned this destiny for more than half my life, and if you want a part in it then you will understand it best not to know everything I know. If I want you to know of my past or of my reasoning, I will tell you.”

Cyrenna held her breath, trapped under the oppressive warrior’s words.

“Do you understand me?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Masseeia took pace again, leaving the smaller woman to catch her breath.

Cyrenna waited until the First Commander was a few goodly steps ahead before initiating her own pace. Masseeia needed time in peace. Even if she didn’t, Cyrenna did. Her thoughts were jumbled. Why would Masseeia yearn so lustfully after the Queen’s rite? The rite of Queen-hood was an unspeakable honor, but Masseeia seemed far more obsessed with Queen Perseathea losing it than she did in gaining the rite herself. Whatever the reasons, Cyrenna held her tongue. She knew well not to stand against First Commander Masseeia. Anyone who had was dead.

Chapter 13

A humble village spotted with grass huts and modest gardens waited just down the hill. Stone lined paths weaved in and out of trees in the valley, leading to an assortment of huts. A handful of children laughed and played as a nearby woman, tending her kettle, kept watchful eye. Wind rustled through the shaded village and up to Laidea's sun scorched face. A simple village, only a dozen families or so.

Laidea looked back to her company. They fixed questioning eyes upon her, so she gave a nod, leading them out of the jungle. As the Amazons trickled out of the trees, the woman by the kettle took notice. She hurried to her children, swooping them up while proclaiming an unfamiliar word. At the call of the strange word, a steady stream of men filed into the pathways, makeshift weapons at hand. By the look of them, the men were simple farmers and fishermen, but driven by an obligation to protect the women and their young.

Laidea guided her company down the dusty path with a silent tongue and no weapons drawn, but vigilant eyes kept guard. By the time they reached the center of the village a

crowd and nervous chatter awaited them. They stood on display as curious villagers eyed them over every portion of their bodies. The Nation Amazon called the Westlands home, rarely venturing beyond the hills to the North, so the warrior women were more night fire legend than reality this far out.

The men stared at the women with wide eyed disbelief. Their own women were weak and delicate, where as the Amazons were muscular and solid, suited for battle. Amazons had bred this way since the beginning of the Nation a hundred cycles before. The women selected strong, hearty men to mate with so as to produce powerfully built daughters to carry on the name. This reflected well in the braves, who stood as giants in comparison to the children of the village. The men could not believe their eyes, but still stood ready to protect their own, even if it meant their lives.

Had the Amazons come to take the village, the men would have stood no chance… and they knew it. They were not soldiers, nor warriors. They were simple men, unskilled in the ways of battle, but still they stood, and Laidea admired them for this. The people huddled together seeking shelter in their number. Children clung to their mothers, crying, and the men said not a word as Laidea settled Palius into Hippolyta’s arms.

"I am Laidea.” The auburn haired woman stepped apart from her company, palms facing up in offering. “A Commander of the GarTaynian Amazons. We are not here to pillage, we simply seek help with our child. We would be grateful for any hospitality."

The people eyeballed the Amazons in silence until a burly man stepped forward, holding a staff under white knuckles.

“We’ve no coin for you to plunder here and no food to spare.” His warning drew deep and husky. “There is nothing in our meager village for the likes of you.”

“We are not interested in your goods, as I have already said.” Laidea tried to assure the man. “We seek a healer for our child.”

The man shook his head. “Leave us!” His voice boomed. “We’ve no need for your kind here.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow, insulted by the insinuation. Everyone in the village waited on tense silence.

“Is that the way of it then?” Laidea asked from under clenched teeth. “Because I’ve no time to spare on your-”

“They need help with the child, Garrith… that’s all.” A young woman pushed her way through the crowd, offering a smile. She approached the company of women, addressing Laidea. "I would be honored to share my hut with you and your sisters. I am not the village healer, but I can tend to your child and offer you food, water, and rest." Laidea relaxed, taking the woman’s hand in gratitude. "You are very kind, thank you."

She gave Laidea a shy nod, then led the Amazons back through the crowd till they were well beyond the disapproving glances of Garrith and the others. They headed down one of the stone lined paths, enjoying the cool of the corresponding shade trees until the trail spilled over into a blanket of lush grass dotted with pecking hens. A modest hut lingered just a few paces off the path. The company relaxed in the grass while Laidea followed the woman inside.

"Let me ready things for your child." She offered. Laidea watched the woman go about her task. She was pleasant to look at, hair as black as a moonless night cascading in tumbles down her back. Flawless, sun colored skin that appeared delicate, her hands being the only exception. They shone course and callused as she dipped a cloth into a bowl of water. The woman seemed oddly fragile to Laidea, causing her to wonder how it could be that the woman didn’t always feel vulnerable to attack. As peculiar as it was for the villagers to see the Amazons, it was just as puzzling for the company to witness such frail women.

"I apologize for my people.” The woman turned back to Laidea. “I am afraid they have only heard tales of the Amazons. Frightening tales.”

“I understand.” Laidea nodded. “I apologize as well.”

“Oh no. It is most understandable. I am a mother myself. I would be frantic.” Laidea smiled as the woman put out a hand. “I am Meesha. Meesha of Saron.”

“Laidea of GarTaynia… as you know. So this is Saron?”

“Yes,” Meesha sighed, “and as for the people of Saron, they fear what they do not understand.”

“Most of us do.”

“But also know, most who come to Saron do so to plunder. We have lush meadows ripe with vine, sheep and boar are plenty, and there is a swollen stream just a morning’s walk from my own front door. Soldiers come through every other cycle to strip it bare… ” Meesha hesitated, “among other things. Here,” the woman extended the bowl to Laidea, “take this to your women, then bring me the child.”

Laidea nodded, taking the bowl as she retired from the hut. When the Commander stepped out, she found Hippolyta under a tree, Palius cradled in her lap. Laidea handed the warrior the water then swept up the child.

“Askca.” Laidea called. “Take Palius inside.”

I nodded, taking the girl into my arms.

“And offer Meesha a portion of our meat.”

Once inside, I laid Palius on the waiting blankets as Meesha kneeled beside the child.

"Young warrior, if you will, take those vegetables to the kettle outside. I will tend to the girl."

I studied the woman, presuming her to be older than myself, but not quite Commander Laidea’s place in cycles.

"Thank you." I said, gathering the food. “I am to offer you a portion of our meat. It waits outside for your taking.”

“Thank you.” Meesha smiled as she began swabbing Palius with the damp cloth. I gave a nod, leaving her.

Looking down to Palius, Meesha cradled the girl’s cheek. "So young… what could have happened to you?" She smoothed a paste of healing herbs across the gashes on Palius’ face. "I have a child…” she went on in a soothing tone, “Aidehn. He’s just your age. Maybe when you wake, you two can play together." Meesha finished tending the wounds. "There, you should feel much better after your rest."

In the late afternoon, Laidea's company settled under the weeping willows, relaxing in the cool breeze with Meesha, sharing good food and conversation well into the evening. As night covered them, the Commander insisted the company take a short slumber, for they would depart when darkness was full. As they slept, Laidea sat with Meesha beside a fire barely flame enough to serve more than a glow. As the moon rose into the night sky, Laidea, much to her own surprise, found herself comfortable with this woman. She felt safe in sharing her thoughts with Meesha, and along with that feeling came an unexpected release in her mind. For once, she felt at ease to speak as a friend… a woman, rather than as a Commander.

“You care as a mother for them. Not aloud, but in your heart.” Meesha eyed Laidea, saying the words as if they were deep secrets.

Laidea stared into the flicker, uncomfortable to admit such emotion. “I do.”

“It must be hard knowing you could lose a handful of them-”

“Or all of them.”

“And your little one?”

“Palius?”

Meesha nodded.

The Commander took a deep breath. “Her suffering destroys me. I should never have allowed her to come.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong. With what you have told me, she had to come.”

“But her purpose might never be fulfilled now. Not with her lying in there-” Laidea stopped herself.

Meesha put a hand on Laidea’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault. Not Palius. Not this battle. None of it. It was foretold. You have said that yourself.”

“This prophecy…” Laidea began, “I have known it for sixteen cycles of my twenty six, but never realized how it would consume me. Seek me out. I must lead them. If we fail… if I lose Perseathea,” Laidea cradled her forehead in her palm, “our Nation will lose her.”

Meesha swallowed, her hand still warming Laidea’s shoulder. Moments passed in silence.

“I understand what you bare.” Meesha pulled her arm back, rubbing at her hands. “I know more of it than I have told you.”

Laidea looked up. “What?”

“My sister is an Amazon.”

Laidea’s posture stiffened. “Why did you not tell me?”

“It’s not that I would keep it from you, I never speak of it. Not here. Not in Saron. You have seen how they react to such things.”

“What tribe?”

“The Arcanian. Our mother died when we were children. Soon after, my father wished to come here to Saron, the village of his grandfather, but Elissea refused. She was in her blossoming cycles and very rebellious toward my father. She dreamt of becoming a warrior. My father refused to amuse ‘such fantasies’. He told her we would go to Saron as a family and live as nature had intended us. She would ‘grow into womanhood, go to the man with the greatest wealth, and birth grandsons.’”

“She refused?”

“She left. I didn’t hear from her for two cycles. I awoke late one night to a silhouette standing over my bed. It was Elissea, dressed as a warrior. She told me of how she had become one with the Arcanian Amazons. Then, she begged me to leave with her.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“My father was sick. I stayed to care for him until his death.”

“And now that he is gone?”

“My son, Aidehn… Saron is all he knows. But someday we will leave. When I have more to offer him.”

Laidea nodded, looking back to the flames. “Sometimes knowing can be a difficult thing.”

“It can be.” Meesha gave a knowing smile. “So is the time right for you to tell her?”

Laidea shrugged. "I don’t know. It has to be. But what I have to tell her will change her life and she has only just begun to accept Artamene and Balena's death. I don’t know if she is ready to know. But then, I’ve never been ready to tell her.” Laidea paused. “She has just become a warrior. She was but a child just days ago. And Saratiese….” Laidea directed Meesha’s gaze to the sleeping girl.

Meesha glanced to Saratiese. “What?”

Laidea held to her silence a moment more. “They had been childhood companions. Inseparable… until the deaths. Askca has struggled deeply over the past cycle. She blames Saratiese, but blames herself more.”

“Blame is hard to allot fairly at such a tender age.”

“That is not all. Askca also witnessed…” Laidea narrowed her eyes in on Meesha. “The soldiers who come through your village-”

“What about them?”

“What they do to your women… it was done to Saratiese. Five times over.” Meesha went silent under the woman’s stare. “That led to Askca’s murders.”

“Gods… they are both so young.”

“Battle is battle.” Laidea’s eyes shifted back to the fire. “It rips your heart out. Your soul questions it, but it is justifiable in one word.”

“What word?”

“Freedom.”

Meesha sank back, gripping the log they sat on as if to anchor herself, steadying herself under such heavy words. Laidea scooped a handful of pebbles, tossing them one by one into the fire. Thinking. Staring. When her words returned, they sounded weighted, somehow more burdened than before.

“But what Askca has done…. It was murder. Intimate. Passionate. Black hearted. And that changes you. It was justifiable, perhaps even right in the eyes of most, but it came from a part of her that is dark and deep. Now that part is loose inside of her. And this all comes at such a time. Our Queen has been captured. If we’ve lost her, the prophecy has most certainly begun.”

“That’s why you must tell her now, Laidea.”

Palming into her knees, Laidea lifted to stand. "The moon has risen full. We must go. Thank you, Meesha. You have been most kind."

The Commander sensed Meesha to be discontent with her rushed departure, but appreciated the woman for trying to disguise it with a smile. "You will tend Palius then?”

Meesha lifted to meet her. “Of course.”

“If we do not return, do what you must to hide her. She could be our last hope."

"You will return, Laidea." Meesha pulled her into an embrace, a gesture that surprised Laidea, but also brought her comfort.

A cool breeze rustled through the sleepy village, tussling leaves and coaxing me further into rest. I took in long, deep breaths, on the edge of my dreams. Until… warm, full lips touched my own. Startled, I went still. Surprised. But I soon relaxed, melting under the unforeseen kiss. My eyes were still closed from slumber, making the kiss all the more intriguing.

And it grew more generous, enchanting, warming my entire body as a mysterious hand caressed my cheek. Still half asleep, I fell wholly into the sensations. Butterflies tickling my stomach, and as if submerged in liquid warmth, my heart floating in my chest.

I lifted heavy eyelids, taking in the vision of my infatuation. A bright moon shone behind Saratiese, capturing her beauty, radiating it in a luminescent, silvery light. My heart skipped when I realized who I had surrendered to. A procession of confusion… upset tempered by curiosity, so perfectly intertwined they could narrowly be told apart. Again, her kiss led me further into her embrace. After long moments, she pulled away. Leaving me wanting. Trembling. I opened my eyes again, as if waking from another dream.

"I have followed you far,” Saratiese began in a poetic whisper, “for so long. And now we are here."

A long silence stretched out between us and an unexpected chill pricked my skin. Something had shifted. Something had changed. Confirming my instincts, a disturbing grin crept across Saratiese. The strange smirk forced an uncomfortable feeling into the pit of my stomach.

"I have found my way back into your heart, Askca…" Saratiese whispered, "and now, I'm going to cut it out."

A sharp tingle hit me like ice water. Sudden swords drew, soldiers dropping the blades to hover my face. Gragore broke into the circle, standing at Saratiese‘s side.

"Askca." I sprung at the sound of my name, breathing hard. Sweat trickling my brow. Laidea raised an eyebrow at my reaction. "We‘re leaving."

I looked about the camp till I found Saratiese. The sight of the girl sleeping only served to confuse me more.

"Are you alright?" Laidea questioned.

"Yeah….” I tried to clear my thoughts as Laidea left me, moving on to wake the others.

Chapter 14

I ambled on at Saratiese’s side, in silence and far behind the others. Palius weighed heavy on my mind, sobering me to just how dangerous this quest was becoming. Not even into Gragorian territory and our number was dwindling. And the blood… it surrounded me. Palius’ blood, the blood of battle, the blood on my hands that night in the temple, the bitter tang of it refusing to leave my nostrils.

We had walked a goodly distance under the cover of night, when I began to notice Saratiese fidgeting. Wringing her hands. Biting her lip. Running her fingers through her brunette locks. She wanted to talk. I could tell. That’s the last thing I wanted. Too much burdened my thoughts already, and that dream… that dream didn’t serve to clear my head either. I just wanted to think on the quest, on Queen Perseathea. Not the past. Please… anything but the talk.

“Askca.”

I kept my focus ahead, but I could still feel Saratiese’s eyes on me, begging, making me uneasy.

“Askca, please.” Saratiese began again.

My heart sank. "Don't do this, Sara." I stopped, pleading with my expression. "Please. I’m not ready. Leave it. I have enough things to worry me."

"But I don’t know how much time we have alone and I don’t know how much time we have-"

"Guard the rear." My indifference paused Saratiese, but only briefly. I started walking again.

"Askca,” the girl started after me, “I’m not trying to start another fight.”

“Good.”

“I need you to understand."

“Saratiese.” I warned, feeling that same stomach turning heat in my belly. I wanted to forget the past, never talk about it again. It was the only way. “Things have been well with us. Let them be well.”

"We might die out here. You need to know.”

“Don’t you understand?” I swung around to face her, blocking her path. “I don’t want to know.”

“The truth is rising in me.” Saratiese stammered. “I… I can’t cast it down anymore!”

"I thought we were passed this for… for the first time in a cycle.” I shook my head, straining at the ache tensing my forehead. “But you won’t let it."

"I know you’re hurt.” Saratiese took a deep breath. “I’m hurt too, but I don’t think you see that. I don’t want this between us. I don’t know if we are coming back, Askca.”

“It’s going to be between us, Sara. Forever. That’s the way of it. You can’t change that.”

“We're in this quest together, like it or not. We have to fight as one."

“I can’t do that if you keep bringing this up to me!” I felt that same sick feeling come over me that I had felt in my hut.

“How can you forgive me if I don’t?”

"You want me to forgive you? You are still so damned selfish!” My face flushed hot. “How can you even ask such a thing of me?"

"If you would just-"

"Don’t you get it? I don’t want to listen! I want to forget!” I put my hand to my forehead, rubbing hard at it. “Gods, why do you not understand? I can't look at you anymore, Sara. You’re not the same.”

“You don’t try to look at me!”

“I have tried, but every time you bring up that day I feel myself hating you.” I swallowed at the words. No matter how many times I had thought them, they sounded so much worse out loud. Pausing, I exchanged my anger for a softer toned sadness. "You are different. I am different. That day changed us both. It changed everything."

I held back tears as I stared at Saratiese. The girl looked back at me with hopeless, dim eyes. I could see it. I had lost her.

Saratiese swallowed back sobs, looking to the ground. She looked the same in this moment… as she looked that day. Clenching at my chest, I looked away. Cold pain stung inside my chest. Broken. Grieved. Lost. Memories shoved me back. I almost lost my breath. I fought to push the painful images out of my head, but they were too fresh, too real. I closed my eyes, enduring as my heart’s scab peeled back, bleeding again. I hated these memories with a wicked, dark passion. I hated Saratiese for reminding me. The feelings she gave me were blacker than cold blood. Panicked and unbearable. It was a pain like nothing else, making me crave death as a release from such hysteria.

I had worried before that these emotions would push me into madness. Maybe they already had. Madness didn’t seem so far away from where I stood now, a cycle later, not one day closer to healed. It was as if it had all happened yesterday. Except now I was harder. Or I begged to be. Hard and emotionless, like a stone devoid of any heart, with no blood to bleed, or pain to feel.

Beginning to shake, I saw my edge. Peered over it. Felt the anger boiling there. Felt the scorch off my own hot wrath. Burning me alive. And then, I looked to Saratiese.

“You destroyed me!”

Saratiese looked up, stunned.

“You killed them! And after what you did, you’re dead to me!”

“What…?” Saratiese asked, her voice a trembling, shocked whisper.

“I don’t understand….” I tensed. “What do you think I don’t know? You left my mother and Artamene. They are dead because of you! Ashes!"

Saratiese’s mouth dropped open. “I… I had to run.” She stammered. “Balena told-”

"You left my mother with a baby in her arms!”

“No-”

“You left her alone! Exposed! Vulnerable to those bastards!” I shouted, the sound of my gnashing teeth gritting in my ears. My own words didn’t seem like mine. They were too hostile. Too sharp and thrashing. Too far away from who I thought I was.

“I wanted to stay, Askca.”

“How could you leave her with a baby. You know the way

of murdering men and Amazons!” I choked on my sobs like an orphaned child. “You left her alone to defend herself and her child against armed men. Murderers.”

Saratiese shook. “Askca, please-”

“I know all I need to know of you, Saratiese.” I swallowed my sobs, calming my words.

“Askca.” Saratiese said, pleading. “I’m so sorry-”

“It should have been you,” the cold words crawled out of my mouth, shocking me. Grieving, my heart blackened, my eyes burning with tearful darkness till I felt dead with weeping. "Artamene was my only sister."

“I‘m sorry. I… I‘m so sorry.” Saratiese let her words drop and closed her eyes, pain frozen on her face.

I tried to put the bloody scene out of my mind, but the ache in Saratiese’s shaking voice wouldn’t let me.

“How could you run?” I questioned through tears, cold moments passing. “I can never forgive you for what you have done, Saratiese."

Saratiese dropped her head, tears streaming her cheeks. She felt like she was suffocating. She couldn’t breathe. She had never seen Askca this vulnerable. Not even a cycle ago. That day, the young warrior had left as soon as she received word, retreating to some unknown refuge for weeks. Those days, no one knew where Askca was, just that she was in grief and needed time alone. She did not even return for the funeral fires. Saratiese had known then. Askca was unable to bear such a sight. Saratiese worried days for the girl, fearing she would never return to GarTaynia. But weeks later, she did. Changed.

Saratiese clenched her eyes shut. She wanted it all to go away for her and Askca. She searched herself, looking for strength, then pulled Askca into an embrace. Knowing she was the cause of such pain, she still could not keep herself from trying to comfort the girl. Askca sank under the embrace, desperate for any release from the suffering. Both felt utterly alone and empty, and as painful as it was for Saratiese to admit, she knew. It was done.

Chapter 15

Deep in the shadows, looming behind black trees and a drape of fog… it murmured. Black waters spurting like blood through the belly of the jungle. Blood River bubbled up from the pits of Hell to slash the heart of the land in two. A beast over man, the black waters swallowed up hundreds of men, salivating over flesh and bone until the shallows stained red with death. Blood River was a devil of nature and every Amazon had heard its’ nightmare tale.

The company came out of the trees beholding the watery grave, jaws dropping. It loomed like an ocean of darkness and fear, its’ sweet but murky scent assaulting them as they neared. The braves huddled together in the stiff breeze, looking passed Laidea to the cruel waters. I stood at the opposite end of the company from Saratiese, determined not to glance in her direction. No one wanted to go into this river. Not tonight. Not ever. Impatient lightning flashed across the night sky, lighting up Laidea’s face, glinting against her fiery locks.

“Every Amazon heed me.” She lifted her voice over the roar of thunder. “Blood River.” She spoke the name as a curse. “Every word you’ve heard stands true. Keep your eyes

wide and alert. Be watchful. I know no one wishes to cross this river. I fear it myself, but there is no other way. We cross it, or Queen Perseathea is lost.” The company stood silent with wide eyes, gesturing an apprehensive, but collective nod.

With Hippolyta at her side, Laidea slipped a foot down the moss slimed slope and into the black waters. Wading out to her knees, she turned back to us.

“Warriors, shepherd a brave.”

I stood frozen, staring as Hippolyta helped Belsiphiny down the slope. The brave waded out into the blackness, almost disappearing into it before my eyes. Holding my breath, I glanced to Hippolyta.

“Ready?” She asked me.

I swallowed, fear clenching my jaw. With a nod, I took the warrior’s hand, easing a foot into the cold, black water. An icy tingle pricked up my leg as I sunk a foot into the sludge of unseen mud. Wading in, I tried to concentrate on the quest, rather than my childhood fears.

Water rushed my hips as I took step after heavy step, my boots sinking into thick mud. Turning back, I offered my hands to Kia-Maie. The brave slipped loose of Hippolyta, her innocent eyes fixed on me. I watched the girl, her breath shaking, and the tales I had heard as a child scratched back into my mind, forcing their gruesome images.

Watching Kia-Maie wade out, I couldn‘t help but envision the brave suddenly screaming, her eyes wide and panicked as she ripped beneath the surface. Gone. The Caiman lurking Blood River were twice the size of those in GarTaynia‘s waters. They sprawled the length of two men stacked, their demon eyes bulging just above the dark surface, their jaws ready to spring like a trap. I had seen it before as boars would drink at the river‘s edge. One of the mammoth reptiles would burst from the calm in a sudden spray, clamping jagged teeth, grinding the howling pig into bloody chunks. My mother had told me to never sit unaware at the river’s edge, for fear the same thing might happen to me.

The rest of the company slipped into the water behind me, every head tilted toward the bruise colored sky spider webbing with white flames. The winds were rushing now, thrashing the clutter of trees surrounding us. Pulling into the wind, the current twisted even more forceful, wrapping me with watery fingers, threatening to suck me under. Heavy drops plopped against the river, splashing in sporadic dots before pouring into a loud and drenching multitude.

Partway in, at Laidea’s example, we took the braves onto our backs. Violent winds throttled the jungle, raging through the dark trees. Billowing clouds thundered above, hazing the night sky into an ominous purple. The other side of the river stood black and unseen, invisible, all but for the chaotic flashes of lightning. There was no way of knowing how close the other side loomed.

I fought the black current, chest burning as Kia-Maie weighed me deeper into the cold and sloshing waves. Whipping my feet, I prayed to go unnoticed by the flesh eating fish. If the spike toothed horde had fed in the past days, we would be safe. If not, the scaly meat eaters would shred us of our skin within moments. The entire company would be nothing more than a red puddle of bones in the water.

There is nothing in the water. There is nothing in the water. Just get to the bank.

Lightening exploded, shining against the heavy sheet of rain swelling the river over its’ mossy banks. Flashes of Laidea and Belsiphiny shimmered in the dark waters in front of me. The sound of booming thunder splashed in and out of my ears, my muscles burning as I swam. Gasping, I choked on the salty water, and glancing at the distant and dark bank, all my mind’s eye could conjure was the Pottage Man. The worst of all my fears.

The story went that once a local villager ventured into Blood River to prove himself a man to his clan. The Sookurie, a giant anaconda stretching three times the length of the caiman, yanked him under the waters. When he burst back through the surface, wide eyed and screaming, the serpent had twisted all the way up to his neck. His terrified friends watched as the snake tightened, crushing him till his scream sputtered into a merge of splintering bones and bloody gurgles.

His tribe thought him lost and grieved, but days after his son walked the banks. Through his tears, the boy spotted a foul pottage, swarming with flies, oozing in the moss. As he neared the mush, a stench like he had never known before clouded him. Pinching his nose, he knelt down to observe the oddity. There, mangled in strands of bloody hair and fleshy vomit, were fragments of teeth… and his father’s medallion. The Sookurie had coughed up portions of the man, giving up only what it could not digest.

Lightning cracked, flooding the jungle with light, ripping me out of my thoughts. I looked around, a chill freezing my wet skin.

“We’re in deep, Askca!” Kia-Maie’s cherub voice shrieked over the storm. I thrashed my arms, fighting to keep my head above water.

“That… that’s good.” I bobbed for breaths, the child weighing heavy on my back. “It means… we’re half… halfway there.”

“Isn’t this where-”

“Don’t speak it.” I spat. Kia-Maie went silent, tightening her grip on my neck. Suddenly, a wide slither grazed my belly. My chest tightened, stopping my heart. I felt the color drain from my face. Flailing into a panic, I turned back to the others, shouting.

“Sookurie!” Adrenalin blazed my body, charging me into a frantic swim.

“Get out of the water!” Came Laidea’s distant shout. “Now!”

“I can swim, Askca!” Kia-Maie dove off before I had the chance to stop her, and I felt myself bob up in the water.

“Hold my hand!” I grabbed after the brave.

Another slither slimed by my ankle. Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods! I thrashed my feet. Lightning sparked, booming across the water. The bank! I dropped my foot, searching the river floor, only to find more bottomless water. I squeezed into Kia-Maie’s hand, pulling the brave against the current, choking and coughing. Lungs burning. A scream rang out. I whipped around, wading the water.

The anaconda’s tail, broad as a tree trunk, split the water in front of Kelius and Tilliandre. Lightning gleamed against Kelius’ axe as she slashed her blade through the foam of rushing river, searching the evading tail. Tilliandre held tight to her sister’s neck, desperate to hold on.

My eyes met with Kia-Maie’s and both of us surged into a swim. Just ahead, Laidea ran waist deep, pulling Belsiphiny behind. I bolted ahead, out of breath, chest burning, dragging Kia-Maie.

Kelius, giving up her fight, also charged into a swim. But stopped short. In flashes of lightning, muscular scales glinted around the warrior’s waist.

Kia-Maie and I scrambled up the bank, joining Laidea and Belsiphiny. We turned just in time to watch Kelius charge a heavy slice at her hip, cutting into the mammoth serpent. It loosened, dipping beneath the black surface. Without slowing to look, Kelius swam until her feet reached mud. She bolted into a run, pushing as fast as she could through the water with Tilliandre bouncing on her back. Sliding the brave around, she tossed Tilliandre up the bank. I stared out over the water. Another bolt of lighting sparked, revealing several bobbing heads.

Hippolyta could hear the others screaming. The roar of the driving rain. And faintly, she could hear Valasca choking against her ear. But she couldn’t see the serpent. It had dropped off Kelius and disappeared just feet from where she swam with Valasca. Then, Valasca ripped from her back.

“Valasca!” She screamed, fighting the current while searching for the brave. The water was blacker than Hell. The night rumbled with thunder, but the lightning hid. Hippolyta dove under. Underneath, the water loomed the color of dark green nightfall. A crack of lightning mumbled above. In that slash of light, Hippolyta saw branches reaching up like claws from below. Chest burning, she shot back up through the surface. Gasp! She swiveled in the water, eyes whirling, searching.

“Valasca!” Rapids rushed the warrior, twisting across her legs. The branches below scratched at her feet.

Distant voices begged. The company silhouetted on the bank, screaming, begging her to swim. “Get out of the water!”

Hippolyta ignored their collective plea, dipping back under. Black water churned past, muffling her ears, deep green swallowing her into the belly of this beast. Fighting, she swam against the flow. Her eyes wide, she stared into the brush below. A glimpse of hair floated. Pushing through the water, she swam closer. Valasca tangled in the branches. Racing to the girl, Hippolyta grabbed the girl’s floating arm. She shook Valasca, but only to the reply of a white face… gaping stare. Yanking Valasca, she fought to pull the brave free. Her chest blazed, burning for air. She ignored it, desperately pulling. The air trapped in her chest felt like a block of mud. Heavy.

She yanked Valasca, snapping branches. It was black where she floated. Flashes of Valasca’s pale face and white eyes sparked in and out. Hippolyta felt herself going dizzy. The black closed in, suffocating. Looking to the surface, then glancing back to Valasca, she knew she had to leave the girl for air. Then lightning sparked. In its flash, the Sookurie darted up from behind Valasca, glaring at Hippolyta. Warning her. Protecting it’s prey. Eyes bulging, she let out a bubbled shriek, salty water choking her chest. Heart thrashing, she burned her muscles against the water to bust through the surface. Gasp! Gasp!

Thunderous lightning boomed loud and violent. Angry winds throttled the trees. On the bank, Kia-Maie, Lathenia, and Tilliandre screamed like terrified children. Kelius and Malaia held Belsiphiny, crying and crazed, back from the water where her best friend had disappeared. I couldn’t watch any longer. And neither could Saratiese or Laidea. Jumping back down the bank, all three of us dove back in.

Hippolyta ripped the axe from her hip, dunking back under. She clawed at the water, forcing it to her sides until she saw the floating hair again. Lightning glinted above. Valasca, ghost faced, floated helplessly as the colossal serpent slithered around her.

Driving through the water, Hippolyta tangled into the sharp fingered branches, thrashing her axe. Her blade barely pressed forward, her power lost in the heavy water. Putting the sharp edge to the snake’s belly, Hippolyta sawed into the scales. She cut and sliced, her forearm tensing with veins as she held her burning breath. Blood clouds floated up from the snake’s belly, staining the black water red. Lightning flickered through the deep green, blurring Laidea into sight.

Saratiese and I broke into the branches as Laidea anchored herself to the limbs. Hippolyta went back to her slicing, the snake’s muscles hardening like iron under her touch. The power in the serpent grew crippling. Even if she did kill it, Hippolyta wasn’t sure they could pry it loose of Valasca. Another flash. Laidea held her bow taut, ready to drive the arrow through water and beast. If the arrow went as intended, it would run the snake through and leave Valasca unscathed. If it sped wrong, it would skewer the two together. Squinting an eye, Laidea plucked. It bolted through the short foot of water, streaming a path straight into the serpent. Blood fogged the water and the snake loosened, whipping back into the depths of black to disappear. Saratiese pulled Valasca loose, darting to the surface.

Gasping for breath, the warriors fought to get Valasca to the banks before the fresh blood summoned the piranha. Saratiese waded the water with a run, fighting the river with Valasca in her arms, until Malaia and Kelius met them, pulling the brave from her. Laidea came in after, locking Hippolyta’s arm around her neck to make certain the faint woman didn’t pass under.

I clawed my way up the mossy banks with the others, lying in the mud, exhausted and sucking in heavy breaths. Malaia laid Valasca in the mud, kneeling over her. “Valasca!” She held the girl’s chin in her hand, whipping it back and forth.

Belsiphiny rushed to her friend’s side. “Valasca, wake up!”

Kelius dropped her ear to the brave’s chest. “She’s not breathing.”

“What?” Belsiphiny shrieked.

Laidea looked up, pulling to her knees. All the sisters circled around.

“Valasca!” Hippolyta took hold of the girl’s shoulder, pounding at her chest. “There’s water inside of her. We have to get it out!”

Belsiphiny pushed passed Hippolyta, grabbing her friend. Shaking her. “Valasca! Wake up!”

Belsiphiny jiggled the girl violently, pounding her against the ground. A few moments later, water spewed from Valasca’s mouth in a wet cough. Choking, she leaned to her side, dribbling river water and saliva over her lips.

We sat in the night, drying before a warm fire, waiting for the rains to pass. We had been close as a company, but this far into the journey, now, we were much more. We were family. Sisters. The braves were no longer just children to the women. They were friends. Sitting in front of the fire, silent with the others, my mind wrapped around this. It was getting harder and harder to think of loosing any one of us, and as fate played out, it was probable… we’d loose half our number.

As the sound of rain faded, replaced by the hum of a jungle night, we stared into the last glow of embers, meditating with the Goddess. The quiet lasted a while.

At last, Laidea spoke. “The Goddess has cleared the sky. We have a bright moon to guide us. It’s time we go.”

The Commander arranged her things, still deep in silence, but her thoughts dwelled more on Perseathea than the goddess. No matter the hardships of the journey, Laidea knew Perseathea would be fairing worse. Tortures unspeakable were certain. Gragore would put Perseathea through many in the hopes of persuading her words, and Laidea knew the Queen well. She would die before telling him. Gragore would go too far, as he always did. His soldiers were likely to end up killing Perseathea, pleasuring too much in the pain of an Amazon.

Laidea’s mind ached with worry. She was the only Amazon left alive who knew the truth behind the Queen’s capture. She cringed at Gragore‘s motives. And she missed Perseathea. Her stomach went bitter at the thought of life without the woman.

I strapped my axe to my hip, securing the blade, glancing at Saratiese. The dark haired girl stood with her foot propped against a rock, strapping her own weapon. I took a breath of cool night air, calming my thoughts. I hated the confusion twirling my gut. Saratiese made me so mad, yet I couldn’t bear to be this close to her and not take notice of her. Anyone breathing had to take notice. Why was I like this? Even in the cycle of seasons I spent away from Saratiese, avoiding her as best I could, I still thought on her every day. My anger and affection for her seemed to measure at equal amounts. I couldn’t forgive, or forget her. Which left me puzzled as to what I to do. Or not do. So, drawn to her as always, I gave in. My stomach swirling with butterflies, I approached.

"Guard with me again?"

Saratiese lifted surprised eyes.

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I can’t make sense of it. These are just… confusing times.”

“Most times are, for one reason or another.”

Easing into our conversation, now no longer tense, but somehow natural, I felt myself smiling. “I’m beginning to see that.”

“Then we’ve no cause to question it.” Saratiese gazed at me, and in her blue eyes I found forgiveness washing over every cutting word I had hurt her with. That was her real beauty. The beauty that shined far brighter than her features. Saratiese could hold anger for no one. Her spirit was too kind. Too gentle.

“Sara… I,” I stopped, lost, uncertain of what words might heal her heart. “I don’t know how to say this but-”

"We’re guarding together again.” She cut me off, smiling. “That says enough.”

Chapter 16

The humid cell swallowed Queen Perseathea into its hot belly. Black. Sweltering blackness. Boiling sweat trickled her body. She hadn’t seen daylight since being thrown into the cell. She didn’t know how long she had been in the chamber, time passing like a slug, but she knew well where she was. The dank and putrid stink of mold, mud, and urine flooded her over with memories. The looming death and decay haunted every chamber in this hell. The stench of her own urine soaked legs amalgamated into the stagnant air. This stink was a stink she had never forgotten. The deafening silence plugged her ears. She swallowed, hunger squeezing her stomach as dehydration wrung her sore and beaten body.

She sat, bound to a wooden throne of pain that dwarfed her in its arms. Her blood trickled with sweat to sting her eyes. Splinters dug into her, tormenting her with an agonizing itch, stinging her flesh with infection. Tight chains strapped her captive to the contraption, pinching her skin purple with bruises. Bound from neck to ankles, she could barely move.

Goddess protect her. Protect them both. I know you have watched over me and given me strength during these tortures, but I need your favor. Help me escape this chair, help me forget my hunger, my thirst… this pain. Goddess, help me before it‘s too late.

The cell door swung open with a howling creak, flooding the chamber with cutting light and cool wind. Perseathea squinted against the glare. Two guards holding torches stepped in, closing the heavy door behind them as the Queen desperately sucked in the last of the fresh air. Why are they here during the day? They’ve only come at night.

The two men mounted the torches, the flames bouncing a flicker across the slime strewn walls. Perseathea balled her hands into fists, staring the soldiers down, daring their beating. The larger of the two men, a corpulent soldier with a mousy brown beard and a belly that hung over his belt, fixed cold eyes on her.

"I am Belgar of the Gragorian army.” His deep voice bellowed. “A Commander under Gragore himself. I am-"

"I have no concern for your titles.” Queen Perseathea cut into the man’s announcement. “You are just one of his many to me."

"Take concern, woman!” Belgar grabbed her, wrapping plump knuckles in her hair. “I am lord and master to you. You are my slave and concubine if I so choose."

Perseathea lifted a confident chin. "I would not make a concubine of me unless you plan to lose your most precious of jewels." She cocked an eyebrow.

Belgar’s eyes blackened. "You will learn your place here, whore." He backhanded her jaw, crashing her cheek against the cruel wood of the chair. Without delay, a whelping bruise swelled the side of her face and a few teeth drifted loose of her aching gums. The tang of hot blood swirled her mouth.

“You are not the first man to lay hands on me, Belgar,” she said, jaw tensed, “and you certainly do not stand out as the most mighty.”

"You will listen to me, woman!” Belgar leaned into her with a scarlet face. “Women know their place here. There is no Queen among the Gragorian."

Perseathea sat in her brutal confinement, breathing hard as blood trickled her lips to drip the side of her chin red.

“Beat me as you please, Belgar,” her voice bittered, “you and the rest of these pathetic men you call soldiers. Your hand is not heavy enough to loosen the words hidden in my mouth.”

“You are so determined.” Belgar said with a smirk, blistering her with another quick backhand, strewing blood across her face. “But I’ll break you… break you like a stubborn horse.” At the end of his words, he busted into her.

Perseathea heard the hard thuds of his fist repeating on and on in the blackness behind her eyes, her skull cracking under every blow. More teeth came loose in her mouth. Tingling. More blood tanging. With her fists tight, she endured, keeping silent. Refusing to please him with a whimper.

Belgar ceased his bludgeoning, his fleshy belly heaving in exhausted breaths. Staring down on her, sweat dribbled his dirty face, cutting milky streams through his whiskers.

“What do you have to say now?” Clamping his hands over her forearms like a vice, Belgar leaned in, his nose nearly tipping her own. The stink of rotting food and soured breath fumed, but Perseathea would not back away. She kept their stare without a blink. Moments passed under intense silence, a test of wills to determine who would crumble first. She could feel his hot breath on her face, reeking. Both stewed in the quite of it.

Finally splitting the silence, Perseathea spat in Belgar’s face. Bloody saliva and two teeth slid down his lips.

"Try that when I'm not strapped to this chair." She growled, blood dripping her swollen, purpling lip.

Belgar smeared the spit from his face with an angry hand, stepping away.

“Amazon whore!”

Perseathea looked calm on him, challenging. “You say women are the fairer sex?”

“I say nothing. It is the way of nature.” He plucked the teeth from his beard, flicking them to the dirt.

“Then let me out of this chair.”

Belgar stepped to her again. “If not for Gragore’s orders, you would be dead already."

“If you are as powerful of man as you claim, why are you the servant of another?”

“Gragore’s empire shall-”

“That’s not what I asked.” She cut him off. “You do not let me out of this chair because you fear a fair challenge. You know that I could snatch that sword from your belt and plunge it into your throat before you realized it was missing.” She leaned forward, the chains jangling at her movement. “You serve Gragore because he promises you coin, women, and power. Mostly power. But none of it is really yours, is it? You are just a fool he manipulates to make gain for himself.”

“You will not question me, woman!” Belgar shouted, banging his fists into the arms of her contraption.

“I do not fear you, Belgar. I will go to my grave spitting in your face." Perseathea sat dripping in blood, suppressing the scream of pain in her body as Belgar, shaking with anger, stared on her. Her sore lips creased into a mocking smile. “Go and tell Gragore you have failed.”

Suddenly, the same white light flashed back into the dim room, ushering in another cool breeze.

“The woman is right, Belgar. You have failed.” The smooth words came from a muscular silhouette standing in the doorway. “I have no more need for you or your soldier. Go.”

Belgar and the second soldier said not a word as they passed through the doorway, disappearing into the light of day. With another loud creak, the door slammed, dropping the chamber into darkness again. When Perseathea’s eyes focused, she found Gragore sauntering over.

"Perseathea,” he flashed a smoldering grin, “how long has it been?" Pulling a chair over, he straddled it, folding his arms lazily over the back.

"Not long enough, Gragore." Perseathea glared.

"That’s no way to talk to an old friend. Not after all we’ve been through.” He put a hand through his raven hair, now slicked with silver, smoothing it back. “You have to warm up to me again. If I decide to keep you alive, we will be spending a lot of time together.” His tongue smoothed over his plum lips as he put a hand on her thigh.

Feeling her stomach turn, she tensed against his touch. “I’ll die first.”

“Maybe.” Gragore slid his hand from her. “But if you die, you know what will happen, and I’m certain that’s a fate worse than death in your eyes.” He kept his gray gaze on her, speaking with a sweetness that sickened her.

“I’ll never tell you, Gragore.”

“I didn’t bring you here to tell me.”

“I don’t believe you.” Perseathea’s face grew hot as she tried desperately to trust her own words.

“Yes… yes you do. You just don’t want to.” The grin dropped from his lips, draining all the warmth from his face. “I will take any woman I must to father the Consecrated. You knew this day would come, Perseathea. You knew the day you ran from me that this was not finished.”

"I could still bare the chosen child!" Perseathea shouted. She felt herself loosing her calm, her control. And she had no power against his threats. He knew it. She knew it. And her desperation was beginning to spill out.

Gragore looked her over, smiling as he shook his head. "You had your chance, Perseathea. You ran, and look where it got you. Right back here. Back in this very cell. Back in my hands.”

“I will not let you-”

“Besides,” Gragore cupped her mouth with a cruel hand, “you are no longer fresh. She is untouched. And if she does not bring me forth the son, there is still but one other.”

“I won’t let it happen!" Perseathea’s muffled words squeezed out from under his hand. Gragore dropped his palm from her lips, instead bruising his fingers into her jaw.

“I will do more than touch, and there is nothing you can do to stop me.”

Perseathea shook under his touch, but tried to hide it, tried to stifle the shivers that came back to her as if she were still a little girl under his watch. Still his youngest concubine. A growing heat pulsed her veins. Burning her. Enraging her.

“I will kill you!” She rocked violently, pulling loose of his grip, tipping at the chair. The shackles tore at her bruised skin, seeping blood from her torn and purpled skin. The bulky legs of the contraption thudded heavy against the dirt as Perseathea strained to pull free, her face strained, but the chains refused to dislodge. Out of breath… she gave up.

Gragore ambled up from his chair, pulling it back around. He sank a clean black boot into the seat, resting an elbow across his knee. Gazing at her as gentle as a dove, he taunted her with a nauseating sweetness.

“Greatest of Queens. Queen Perseathea of the invincible GarTaynia. An Amazon among Amazons. You are all these things, and yet, they get you nowhere. For it is too late.”

“I will die fighting you!” Perseathea’s words spat out in bloody defiance.

“You will die, but it will change nothing. The only questions are how long will I keep you alive and how often will I take you before you’re executed?”

“You will not be able to father the child, Gragore. It would make the prophecy meaningless!”

“Meaningless to your people, Perseathea.” Gragore lifted a strong chin. “Not to mine.”

“My people will never let you do this. GarTaynia will stop you. The Nation will stop you.”

“Don’t you understand, woman?” Gragore’s tone suggested shock. “You have been betrayed by one of your own. Your people brought you here and your people are bringing me the Amazon.”

The Queen’s breath sucked down in her chest. “You lie.”

The warlord shrugged. “Say that to comfort yourself. Maybe you will begin to believe it. But you know deep in your heart I find far too much pleasure in painful truths to keep them to myself.”

“Yours is the tongue of a warlord, a liar, and a thief. A murderer. I will believe nothing you say until I see it with my own eyes.”

“And so you will. And soon.” Gragore said. “Have no fear. I will make certain you see every single moment. Your Nation is about to fall ‘my Queen’. GarTaynia will divide itself. Your tribes will cripple without unity, and it will all happen because just one among you has a dark heart. One woman gave up the rest of you for the purpose of her own great greed. She gave you up, Perseathea, and she is about to give me the Amazon I search.”

“Name this traitor.” Perseathea grew impatient, waiting as Gragore paused. “You say you enjoy hurting me with your truths, so hurt me!”

“Some things are best left unspoken.” The warlord slid his boot from the chair and turned to the door. “I may have lied to you today….” His words trailed off as he tugged gently on the cell door. Looking back at her, a crack of light split the chamber. “I am an unpredictable man. I may very well kill you tomorrow.”

Chapter 17

A bitter breeze chilled Palius. She sat, desperately hugging her knees into her chest as if they were the only source of her warmth. The afternoon sun had disappeared and now, a misty gray covered the day. Cuddling her chin into folded arms, she watched the strange faces passing her. Hundreds of people walking in silence. They pressed through GarTaynia in droves, heading for the center of the village. Never noticing her. Never glancing her way as she sat there in the dust. Cold and alone. It was as if she were hidden from their glassy, grief stricken eyes.

Sorrow showed on them, weighing so heavy it plagued their faces like a disease. The cause of their anguish was a mystery, yet it sunk deep into the pit of Palius’ own gut. She felt it too. A strong, unending sorrow. Heavy. Suffocating. Even unaware of its reason, she suffered under the mass grief. Unexplained depression flew her heart like a winged demon and she stifled back tears she did not understand.

A cold drop fell from the dreary heavens, Palius watching as it soaked into the dust next to her bare feet. Alone, its life fleeting and futile. She looked back up. The heavens swirled dark. A storm was coming. Another drop dappled the dust. Then another. Lifting to her feet, Palius joined the congregation of nameless strangers.

Pushing her way through the thick of people, trepidation took her hand, leading her toward the mystery at center village. She had to know what waited there. What had brought all of these people. All of this sadness. The faired haired child stared through slivers of space, a tangle of arms and legs crushing in on her. Glimpses of marble came in and out. The alter steps.

She pushed through, the people towering over her, grunting past them till she found herself at the head of the multitude. And she stopped. A sudden breath surged her chest, but caught in her throat. A song long ancient and sacred to her people toppled into the first few notes. A woman’s voice, sad and low, carried up into the bitter breezes of the overcast day. Palius froze. She knew this song. She had heard it before, but could not bring her memories to reveal its’ name.

Cold and heavy raindrops began speckling the land, and at once, the heavens opened up like a bursting blossom. Torrent rains spilled down, cascading cold sheets over the crowd and down the marble steps. Cleansing them. No one spoke. All the people had stopped, waiting. The only sound came from the woman’s song, its’ tragic notes blurring in and out of the rain. The sea of people stood like stone sculptures, silent and still, as rain drenched GarTaynia. Palius searched the faces of these nameless. Why did she know not one of them? Who were they? Why had they come here? What haunted them… and her, with such grief?

And as if to answer her thoughts, the crowd split down the middle, opening a path. At the end of it stood a gathering of Amazons. These were the highest in power, and with them, they brought a body. The unknown dead carried on a pallet draped in spring pink blossoms and lush pelts. At the sight of her, sobbing filled the air. The sound of rain and grieving brimmed the day. Palius could not see the face of this mysterious dead, but her own heart suddenly bruised in ache. An orange glow took the top of the steps, lighting up this blackest of days with a massive flame that the driving rain itself could not quench. Lifted atop the shoulders of these greatest of the Amazons, the body approached. Palius stood on her toes, desperate to know the name of this dead Amazon.

Just as the dead reached her, a bewildering pain struck Palius. She clutched at her heart. Uncontrollable tears blurred her eyes, wetting her cheeks. A pain greater than any physical pain, woeful and excruciating, weighed her down. Dropping her to her knees in the gritty mud. And then it quickened to her… her spirit was dying. Unable to bear it a moment longer, Palius stumbled back to her feet, running toward the funeral procession. Drums began their slow pounding, and the dead and her league of Amazons carried up the first of the steps. Pink wild flowers hovered down on soaked breezes, drifting to Palius’ feet. The scorching flames heated her cheeks as she ran behind them, her legs as heavy as if she were treading water.

The great Amazons walked silent before her, slow in their steps and unaware of her chase. Slow step after another, they ascended the marble, the aching and familiar song escorting them. The departed neared her eternal flame.

Suddenly, a tug pulled Palius. Arms swooped her up from behind, cradling her. Palius burrowed into the mysterious embrace like an infant into her mother’s bosom. She hid her eyes, crying, desperate to devour comfort. She couldn’t bare the sadness any longer. The rain fell endless, chilling her as she snuggled into the embrace. She knew not the name of the lost Amazon, but the mere presence of this dead, for reasons she did not understand, wrenched her heart.

As she clinched her eyes shut, tears still seeping, the sounds began to fade. The rain ceased, her skin no longer wet, and a dry warmth took her. She peeked an eye open. The mysterious arms still held her. Curious and a bit alarmed, Palius pulled away, forcing her eyes to focus on the emerging flicker of candlelight. A tumble of quilts lay at her feet. A table with a wash bowl and garments. A cornhusk doll propped in a chair next to a toy sword widdled from cedar. The window at her left led out into a village covered by nightfall… but the village was not GarTaynia. It ushered in a gentle breeze, carrying with it the scent of lavender and a distant stream, but the room smelled of odd and unfamiliar spices.

Palius noticed someone sitting at her side, and flitting her eyes over, she found a strange woman. Tearing loose of the quilts, Palius perched on anxious toes at the end of the bed, fingernails digging into the bedpost.

“Who are you?”

"You’re alright!" The dark haired woman gave a sigh of relief. “You were flush with heat. Tossing and turning. I wasn’t certain you would come out of it.”

Unaffected by the words, Palius repeated. “Who are you?”

“Meesha. You are in the village of Saron.” The woman paused, her expression gentle and her words soft. “You were hurt, so your mother left you here with me so I could tend to your-”

"My mother?"

"Laidea. She left you in my care.”

“But I don’t know you.” Palius looked around the room again, the candlelight flickering over the table, wash bowl, and this bed she had never seen before. “I don’t know this place.”

“Neither did your mother, but she had no choice. She feared you would die if they took you.”

“She’s not my mother.” Palius hesitated. “Well-”

“She’s not? I simply assumed… well, no matter.” Meesha shrugged. “You’re here now and-”

Palius jerked a palm to her forehead, stiff fingers bruising at the skin, interrupting Meesha’s words.

“Oh… I bet your head is pounding.” Meesha scooted toward Palius, offering the child a hand. “You should rest now. Come on.”

“Don‘t touch me.” Palius pulled closer into the bedpost, suddenly aware of the severe soreness bruising over her body.

Meesha lifted her hands in surrender. “I’m sorry. I’m not going to hurt you.” She spoke slowly. “I just want to help.”

“Are you one of them?”

“One of who?”

“One of them.” Palius’ glanced out the window, searching for others as her voice tightened. “One of the sad strangers from my dream.”

“Your dream?”

Palius shook her head, feeling no need to explain. There wasn’t time for that. Smoothing a palm down her belly, she discovered the bed clothes she was wearing. A dull brown night dress. Hopping from the bed, she began searching the room for her own clothes.

“I have to leave.”

“You can’t go.” Meesha stood up, surprised. “You’re not well.”

“Don’t come near me!” Palius swung around to face Meesha. Backing away with slow steps, she realized the woman’s kind eyes and how she stood holding her hands in front of a blood stained apron. Blood, Palius recognized, that was most likely her own. Wiping her nose with a quick hand, she also noticed that the smell of unfamiliar spices was coming form her own skin. Likely some sort of remedy for her wounds. Palius relaxed a bit, feeling a bit guilty for her response. “I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, but I must leave.”

Meesha didn‘t move from her place at the bedside. “I promised Laidea I would care for you till they return.”

“I can’t chance it.”

“But it’s still dark out.” Meesha motioned to her window displaying an early morning Saron. “There’s at least half a candle mark before sunrise.”

“There‘s no time.” Palius slipped out of the night dress, tossing it to the floor. “I have to warn them.”

“Warn them?”

Palius spotted her leathers splayed out on the table, apparently drying from a wash, and slipped back into them. The slightly damp material felt cool against her aching skin.

“Warn them of what?”

Palius hesitated, a deep and troubled breath filling her chest. “Of what is coming.”

Chapter 18

The company trekked on through the dark of morning, dredging across a ragged terrain of jumbled trees and thick underbrush till sunrise. With the sun of afternoon came a broad grassland, spilling thigh high yellow grass out before them that reached into the horizon. Tainted only by the occasional withered tree gnarling up from the ground like a dried claw, the field was an otherwise unending sea of yellow. As the afternoon deepened, a fierce glare of sun took over the day. The heat burned on the Amazons, somehow proving hotter this day than any other.

I wiped another sting of sweat from my eyes. Tilting the leather pouch to my lips, I poured hot water down my bone dry throat. After a few long gulps, that was the end of it. I was out of water, as I suspected most of my friends were. I looked over my shoulder to see Saratiese keeping steady just a step behind me. Her skin flushed pink and sweat smeared the girl’s brown hair to her forehead as she walked, mouth gaping open. It felt like we were cooking in the scorch. Laidea led our company at such a taxing stride that every one of us drenched in exhaustion. Hours and hours had passed over us with the same yellow grass tickling at our thighs. No one had spoken in hours. We were falling victim to the parched landscape.

I forced a swallow down my thick throat. I understood why our company had to keep pace. Queen Perseathea. If we didn’t get to her in time… well, I couldn’t bear such a thought. Along with such a grim outcome for the Queen, came one just as grim for us. First Commander Masseeia would have us put out from the tribe. Banished from GarTaynia and the Amazons, if she had her way about it. We’d be lucky if death was not suggested for this ‘heresy’.

My thoughts tripped to a halt when I stumbled into Belsiphiny. Jolted back into the now, I noticed the whole company idling to a stop. Laidea stood with her hand up.

"Quiet." She ordered.

The wind whispered over the grass. The Commander breathed in, listening again to the rustle of scorched wind as it fingered over the field.

"Water…. I can smell it."

Along with the others, I took in the air. The sweet fragrance of a distant stream flirted on the hot breeze. Sprinting to the end of the grass, all of us found a breathtaking view. The dead grass dropped off into a burst of lush valley. Violets swayed on the downward curve of hillside as shade trees clumped together down below. A stream of cerulean waters ran the width of the valley, twisting and turning around many swollen fruit trees. Greening bushes weighed heavy with plump berries, and fig trees and pomegranates dotted the land. The sun bathed the gully in a golden light that warmed the place, sparking it to life.

We stood for a moment, taking in the sight with wide eyes. My breath was lost on the land. It was as if the death of the grasslands had somehow given birth to this place, giving the last of its life to this lush valley.

“We thank you, Goddess.” Laidea mumbled.

With grins all around, we scattered down the hill. Laughter filled the air as the braves ran ahead of us, peeling off their leathers as they went. The warriors followed just behind, tearing our sweat soaked garments from our bodies and dropping them along the fresh green grass.

As soon as I reached the brook, I dove in, cool water washing over my body like a baptism. The water stung every scrape, cut, and wound with a pleasurable tingle. I drank in the sweet water, cupping handful after handful to my mouth. Dunking under once again, I treasured the stream’s cold and refreshing embrace, loosening the blood dried binding around my chest. The water turned warm as it trickled down my head, streaming down my heated body. My prized amulet dangled my neck as I brought another handful of water to my face, cooling my sun burned skin.

Content to wade in to my shoulders, I then turned, noticing Saratiese bathing closer to the reeds. Sinking back in the water, I held silent, curious, watching as the girl palmed her wet, autumn colored hair. She leaned over to drink, her breast bobbing atop the stream as she cupped the water to her lips. Then, dipping under, she disappeared. When she broke the surface, water droplets glistened her body like jewels. The sun cast a rosy light over her curves as the wind teased ripples through the glittering water and over Saratiese’s naked body.

I stood captured, my mind suddenly racing with thoughts. Aching thoughts. Thoughts I’d never had and might never be able to indulge. Where was all of this coming from? This impulse? This intrigue? And my dream? I had never felt this way before. Not with Saratiese. Not with anyone. And with my mother gone, I had no one to ask. No one to talk to about such awkward feelings. Was this normal? These images in my head? I know such images come, but why were mine pictures with Saratiese? I’d suffered so much with her over the last cycle. None of this made sense.

But my thoughts remained, playing on as I gazed at Saratiese, watching her smooth soft hands over her wet skin. A twinge of butterflies fluttered in my stomach, and anxious, I felt my cheeks flush pink at just the thought that the girl might somehow sense what I was thinking. Then, as if she did, her blue eyes met mine. I flitted my eyes away, as if that might somehow rub out that she had caught me staring. When I did gain the courage to look back, Saratiese still gazed on me, smiling, and I knew she had not looked away. Not for a moment.

The sun leapt forward in the sky as the warriors warmed on the bank, the braves still at play in the water. Laidea warmed in her own silence watching the others talk, waiting a goodly time before she parted her paled lips to speak.

“Kelius.” The warrior looked up. “Are the leathers washed and fresh?"

"Yes Commander."

Laidea nodded. “It’s almost time we go. Collect the warriors and ready the company.”

Kelius saluted, then walked away. Saratiese stood up, and I followed, but the Commander cut in.

"Askca, Saratiese. Stay with me.”

We did as we were told. As the other warriors left with Kelius, Laidea shifted her gaze to Saratiese.

"Take the braves and gather berries and figs." Saratiese saluted. “Yes Commander.” And with that, she drew away from us, starting toward the water.

"Commander?" I stood waiting for my instruction.

"Sit with me.”

I nodded, knowing. But I still felt uncomfortable with the Commander. After our last talk, and my disrespect, I didn’t know how to approach her. We’d all grown close after Blood River. The Sookurie had reminded us all of how little time we might have left in life. But her words about Queen Perseathea, they stirred something in me. A type of denying anger that I couldn’t seem to control. But I had to. If I wanted to be a great warrior, my emotions would have to be tempered. Taking a deep breath, trying to calm myself, I sat down.

“Are we leaving soon, Commander? Before we lose too much daylight?”

“Soon.” Laidea looked to me with solemn eyes. Something in those eyes told me she knew exactly what she was doing. She seemed to be timing everything. Our rests, our meditations, balanced by her driving us so hard through the night, all of it bowed to her. She knew far more than she expressed to any of us. I knew that. And that’s what scared me. She was trying to tell me. I could feel it.

“I need to talk with you, Askca, and as your Commander I will not tolerate the disrespect you offered last time. You will sit and you will listen."

Laidea’s tone drew cold into my ears, and I shrunk back. "Yes Commander."

“What I must tell you I have kept hidden for many cycles. Only I, and a select few, know. There is a foretelling of one who is born of the blood and of its’ fire. It is foreseen that ‘the consecrated will rise to become savior of a nation. This child will be born, covered in blood, then born a second time in the blood of ceremony.’”

“An Amazon?” I asked, thinking back on the Amazon the Gragorians searched.

“Born into warriorhood by the blood of allegiance.”

“But we are all made warriors this way.”

“The blood of the prophecy holds trickery. It can also mean ‘an empire built on the blood of innocents.’ It is up to the consecrated to choose a path. If this chosen one rises from darkness, it will be the rise of a dark empire.”

“How could an Amazon-”

“Because this gift from the Goddess is a double edged sword.” Laidea eyed me. “Only one of a pure heart will choose the sacrificial path.”

“And the fire?” I asked.

“In the Allegiance Ceremony ‘the consecrated will be cleansed by fire and made clean, pure of heart and able to

stand. One against an empire, and it shall fall.’”

I hesitated, thinking a moment. “How do we know if the consecrated is wicked?”

“The consecrated will not be born malevolent. It is not a destiny beyond their choosing.”

“But then-”

“We won’t know. It could be any child of the bloodline. No matter how the consecrated is determined, they will choose their own path, but the will of man is easily bent.”Laidea’s words rang on long as I sat, quite, taking it in. How had I never heard of this prophecy? Why did not all Amazons know of it? If one is to come that will either save or destroy us, why has this secret not been shared? I looked back to Laidea.

“Why do you share this with me, rather than the entire company?”

“These are truths you must know, Askca. The time has not come for them to know.” Laidea paused, leaning in. “So you must vow to me that you will keep these words silent, not uttering them even under your breath.”

“My word.” I promised, even though I did not understand.

Chapter 19

Laidea went on with her secrets, taking me back, telling me of the day that changed everything.

The scream twisted around the trees. The auburn haired child froze, dropping the feather from her fingers. As it floated down the breeze, the sound came again. Screaming. Laidea’s breath caught. The young brave wet her lips, venturing a step forward. The cries agonized on in high pitches, broken apart by hard breath. Laidea crouched, looking about the trees. She saw no one, but the screams were close. She slid her hand down into her boot, sliding the dagger from the sheath at her ankle. Blade in hand, the child rose again to her feet, creeping forward.

The cry came again. The howls shot out from the brush just ahead. Light footed, the child went on till she tipped her gaze just over the shrub. Something squirmed. Screeched. And there was blood. She bolted back down into a crouch, her blade shaking in her fist. On hands and knees she crept to the side of the hedge. Another scream, icing more like a shrill, with pain twirling the noise. Laidea perched on her toes, bending behind the bush. Waiting. Shaking, she pulled back the limbs. Another shriek hit her dead on.

“Agh!”

“Agh!” Laidea herself screamed, toppling backward. Shuffling back to her feet, she scurried back to the bush. Behind it laid a girl in a scatter of bloody leaves. Tattered rags clothed her frail and bruised body. Blood dripped her thighs and her face squealed a bright pink.

Palming her belly and panting, the girl spoke. “Wha… what is it you are called?”

Laidea didn’t reply. She simply stood there. Curious. Studying the girl. Probing her tattered rags. Her frail and bruised body. Lingering on the blood dripping her legs. She looked to be a few cycles older. The age of a new warrior, fresh into her womanhood. But this girl looked to be no warrior. She came across more as a terrified slave girl.

“Is your mother near?” The girl asked, staring at Laidea, her eyes pleading.

The brave kept silent, a gentle breeze shuffling the Blackhawk feathers through her auburn hair. She wasn’t certain what to do. This girl was not one of her people. What if this was a trap?

The slave girl let out another grating cry, her face flushing hot red. Tears squeezed from her bloodshot eyes. Her legs spread, bending at the knees. Blood oozing. Her belly heaving in sudden and frantic breaths.

Convinced this could be no trick, Laidea bent down to the strange girl, palming her knees.

“Do you… do you need help?”

The slave girl glared, her face pinching in pain. “My… my baby. It might already be dead-”

“I can help you.”

The slave girl nodded, grinding her elbows into the dirt. Bleeding. Crying.

“Who was the slave girl?” I interrupted.

Laidea smiled at me, maybe for the first time since the Temple. She smiled at me then too, when approaching me before the battle, looking more pleased than content. I hadn’t understood it then, if I’d even noticed, but seeing that same smile again now made me remember. I remember not understanding how the woman could look so at ease before combat, how her nerves didn’t bleed through. What could she be thinking about?

The warmth in her eyes glowed as she hesitated, this memory obviously close to her heart, and that’s when I realized… her smile was a smile of love. Leaning into me, she whispered the answer to my question.

“Queen Perseathea.”

I gasped. The Queen? This woman I had revered as almost a god since my youth, since my first words… had a secret so astonishing that it bared inconceivable. An Amazon Queen had no child in secret. The baby arrived with great celebration, honored as a sacred child. A child of the chosen. A daughter bestowed upon the Queen by the goddess herself.

Commander Laidea glanced over the sandy banks and the stream, watching the girls, hesitating her words as the hot breeze wisped through her auburn hair. Then, she settled eyes on me.

“Was the child stillborn?” I asked, and without answering me, she went on.

"After the birth, Perseathea told me she was on a journey to reunite with the Amazons. She and her mother Bria had been of the Qkuose sisterhood. Gragore killed Bria, kidnapping Perseathea the same night. She was only eight at the time. He stole her away because of the foretelling of the consecrated.”

“The one born of the blood and of its’ fire.” I whispered. “Is Queen Perseathea the consecrated?”

Laidea put her watch back to the sunny banks, making certain of our privacy again.

"I don’t know. Perseathea herself does not know.” The woman leaned in close to me, the burn on her shoulder grazing mine. “All we know is that Bria’s bloodline is blessed. The consecrated is to be born of her blood.”

“You don’t know if the consecrated has been born yet?”

Laidea took a deep breath in surrender. “No. The consecrated could be Queen Perseathea. The consecrated could be a child not yet born.”

“So this is why the Gragorian has brought war to GarTaynia?”

“Yes.”

“But why does this warlord believe he can control the prophecy?”

“Gragore thinks that he can father the consecrated, making the child of his blood as well. A son to raise his empire.”

“Can he?”

Laidea shrugged. “The prophecy never speaks of the father. Only the mother.” She paused, seemingly lost in her thoughts, her eyes now far away. “Gragore’s quest began long, long ago, Askca. Many cycles before you, or even I, were born. And I fear we are still not near it‘s end.”

I sat thinking, wondering, how such imposing and unimaginable circumstances could be going on in the unknown. How could the Nation not know of this? Or did they? Was this secret so deep that Queen Perseathea could not trust even the Nation with it?

The heat burned on my cheeks as I took these thoughts in, my mind tangling as I tried to sort through it all. Long moments of silence passed between Laidea and I before she took another deep breath, searching a second wind to carry the story on.

“Bria was close in age to Gragore himself, so as a foolish young man his plan was to tame her into his concubine. But the young warlord was unable to plant his seed in her before she killed a goodly portion of his soldiers and escaped. Many seasons passed, but Gragore eventually hunted Bria down. By then, she had a young daughter of her own.”

“Queen Perseathea….”

Laidea nodded. “Perseathea was held by Gragore six summers before she escaped. Unfortunately, she did not escape without his seed. That was the day I found her in the leaves. I was no more than ten summers myself.”

“Did Gragore come for her child?”

“His witch predicted the child was not to be male. He beat Perseathea up until the day she escaped, hoping to kill the baby, angry at ‘her failure’. He planned to kill the baby the moment it was born.”

“So now he has come to finish the deed… kill the child.”

“His plans for the child are much worse than death.”

"But…” I hesitated, “how could Queen Perseathea have a child that no one has ever seen?"

"She kept the child secret. She had to. She knew Gragore would come for her daughter once she became fresh for childbearing. And now… he has started a war for her.”

Chapter 20

"Commander." Kelius stood before Laidea, her ebony frame silhouetted further by the blaring sun. “We are ready to leave at your command."

Nodding, Laidea lifted to her feet. “Tell Saratiese I am ready for her."

“Yes Commander." The warrior retreated back to the water, motioning to Saratiese.

Laidea turned back to me, and I palmed my knees, lifting to my feet. Looking at her now, I realized a new found admiration. I had always looked up to her, true. As a warrior, a Commander, she stood unrivaled in my eyes… except for the First Commander and the Queen herself. But that was no longer what tugged my heart in esteem. It was in her quiet that I found her most courageous. She held tight lips over such a daunting secret. And for such a long time. A secret that would be tearing its’ way from the lips of most, clawing its’ way out like a tasty morsel eager to be shared. Begging to be told. And it was in Laidea’s calm, in the words she had the strength of will not to utter, that I found her true power. And now, she shared these secrets, these mysteries, with me. Fingering my amulet I fell speechless, feeling impressed and unworthy.

Watching as Saratiese spoke with Kelius at the water‘s edge, Laidea leaned her shoulder into mine, lowering her words.

“There is more, much more, that I have to tell you. But our time here is spent.”

Watching Saratiese approach, I kept my words to a whisper as well. “Yes Commander.”

"Do not share what I have said with anyone." Laidea eyed Saratiese, now but a mere fifteen paces away. "I know you are fond of her, but this is a dangerous secret."

“Fond of her?” I bumbled, wiping my sweaty palms over my hips. “I‘m not. I mean, I am. I mean-”

I dropped my own words like a hot rock as Saratiese stopped in front Laidea, a warm expression on her face as she glanced to me.

"You needed me, Commander?"

I shrunk back, nervous that the girl might have overheard my rambling words, words I still didn‘t have a harness on.

“Did you finish your task?” Laidea questioned.

"Palm leaf pouches. Five full. They’re bound and ready."

The Commander nodded her approval, stepping away to leave me and Saratiese alone.

"Everyone,” Laidea shouted to the company, “we’re moving again.”

Saratiese drew back to the tree where her leathers hung drying. Snapping her skirt from the limb, the girl shook it a few times, freeing the last remaining droplets of stream water.

I followed, slipping my cool, damp leathers over my head, carefully tucking around my binding. The warm wind soothed over, cooling against my leathers, refreshing me all over again. I felt clean for the first time in days. My only physical discomfort, other than my always sore chest, surfaced in my shoulders. They both ached a bit from the day’s heat, but their tenderness was nothing compared with the racing of my mind.

Rolling up my tunic, I glanced to Saratiese. She still busied herself with her own bodice, pulling the twine and leathers tight at her sides. She must have felt my eyes on her, because she turned, dropping her blue eyes to mine.

"You alright?" She asked, moving to fasten the scabbard at her hip.

“Yeah.” I replied, coercing my damp tunic into my pack, keeping my focus there instead of on her. I knew Saratiese was nudging me to speak and I didn’t want to take the chance with such crucial revelations fresh and stirring in my head.

“What did Commander Laidea want?”

“Nothing.” I answered a bit too quickly, and as casual as possible. But I realized before the word even escaped how dumb it sounded. It deemed unlikely that the Commander would have nothing to speak of on such a grave quest as this, and would likewise select me at random to spend time with.

Saratiese finished dressing, raising a suspicious eyebrow. “Are you certain?”

“Yeah.”

“So there is nothing you need to talk about?”

I hesitated, wondering if Saratiese actually knew something and was merely waiting for me to share my part. I decided against it. It didn‘t matter. I desperately wanted to tell her though. But my reasons were foolish and self seeking, and I knew that without another thought spent. I wanted to have something to share with her. Something that was just ours. Something to talk about that did not involve my mother and sister and that black day. But Laidea commanded my silence, and for better justification than I could possibly know. That much I did believe. Laidea had her reasons. I trusted her.

I dug in my heels. “No.”

“No you do not want to talk? Or ‘no’ you’re not certain?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I said, now tinkering with the latch strapping my axe to my hip. I wasn’t a good liar. It felt awkward to me, made me nervous, and I never knew where to look when trying.

"Into formation." The Commander ordered.

I put my eyes to the front as the company pulled into formation. Laidea led us into pace, plodding up the hillside and back out into the dead fields.

As the sun set in far off hills, we found ourselves back in the dead meadow, deep and surrounded by a sway of crisp stalks. Amber colored clouds smudged with violet wisps, streaked the sky, evening dipping the sun to her horizon. I studied the twilight. The sky would be blotted out by nightfall. There would be no moon. No stars. And it would not be long before dusk departed, leading the company into the blackest of nights.

The broad land withered with stems stiff as straw, swaying at my shoulders and above the heads of the braves. We waded deeper into the meadow’s flaxen secrets, the grass stretching out long. As darkness fell, the sky stained black. Laidea kept pace at the front, leading us in her footsteps of silence.

Just as we had settled into the long quite, Belsiphiny slowed at my side, her face creasing as she sniffed at the wind. At first confused, I stared on her, but then the odor hit me as well. The unmistakable stench of the dead twinging with a musty sweet, reminding me of rotting fruit.

Belsiphiny’s pace slowed to a halt, and she jerked her attention to the grass just a couple paces from us. I stared at the grass, slowing myself, as she tapped Valasca’s shoulder. When the girl turned to her friend, Belsiphiny motioned to the mysterious portion of meadow. I kept my watch where the brave pointed, but still saw nothing. Valasca tugged Tillliandre’s elbow, and the message sent up through the company, stopping us all. The whole of us stood silent, ears perked to the wind.

A swish sounded… this time from the front of the company. I looked to Laidea, then with every warrior, readied my axe, pacing out from the line. The Commander crept with free hands, waiting to determine whether to pull out her bow or blade. The braves huddled together in the center. It was too dark to see more than a few steps ahead, but I could make out the Commander about five paces from where I now stood.

She centered into the black, narrowing her eyes on the ghostly stalks where the noise originated. They swayed in the breath of wind… then jerked. The wind picked up, whistling over the eerie meadow, waving through the grass like a dark ocean. Blending the suspicious handful into the many. We all kept our eyes fixed to the area where the stalks shuddered, straining ears to the quite.

And an axe split the air by my ear. I jolted, and the blade sunk into a groan just a moment later. Hippolyta stood behind me, once again, without her weapon. Still glancing over my shoulder, I offered her thankful eyes.

And the grass came alive.

"We’re surrounded!" Laidea shouted, flipping the axes at her hips and twirling them into hand.

Kia-Maie yelped, dropped off her feet. One by one, the braves started to disappear. I thrashed about frantic, tromping the field with the other warriors, searching the children.

Malaia screamed. Kelius screamed. I could hear everything but see nothing. Peering in the direction of the shrieks, I squinted, prying through the darkness. Both warrior women were gone, dark grass flowing where they stood only moments before. Breathing hard, I scanned the dark grass and could see none of the braves. The only images I could make out in the shadows, were Laidea, Saratiese, and Hippolyta. We pulled into a tight formation, our backs to each other, staring out into the night. The field dropped quiet, as if nothing had happened. As if half our company had never been there at all.

Our formation of four stood frozen, afraid to move.

Icy chills swept me, my breath crazing.

“Commander,” I hissed, “what’s happening?”

“I don’t know.” She responded with solid, but stressed words. I never looked to her, keeping my eyes on the shoulder high grass. The death stench came back. Growing closer. Heavier. Gagging in my throat. My nostrils. Spoiling on my tongue. I tried to hold my breath, overwhelmed by the decayed smell. It reeked like battle. Blood, flies, and bodies spoiling in the heat of day. Yet I saw nothing. No dead bodies. No enemies. Nothing.

The night felt blacker here. The wind likened to the breath of demons. And I pictured them in my head. Waiting for me. Ogling me.

I watched as Hippolyta glanced to Laidea, who stood like stone, blood dripping a gash on her forehead. When their eyes met, they mirrored the same dread. I could see it on her face. The Commander didn’t know what it was. The night loomed moonless and black, and none of us comprehended this happening.

A scream cut into my ears, and Hippolyta dropped. Right at my side. Vanishing.

"We've got to get out of here!” Saratiese rushed in a whisper, here eyes wild. Terrified.

Before I could think, Saratiese stumbled out of formation and into the sinister grass. Laidea swiped after her, but the girl slipped from grasp. I launched into my own run, but cut short under Laidea‘s iron grip. "Saratiese!” The Commander yelled. “Stop!"

But Saratiese kept running, calling back to me.

"Askca, come on-"

Her words split in half as she ripped down. Seeing this, my heart dropped, a sharp cold hitting me. Hurting my chest.

“No!” I fought Laidea. Squirming. Hysterical and desperate as I broke her hold, running to where Saratiese had gone down.

"Sara!"

"Askca, quit moving!” Laidea called after me. “It’s how they know!"

I slid to my knees, clawing at the grass, digging for Saratiese. This made no sense. Where could they go? My face flushed hot. I grubbed up handfuls of dirt, slicing my palms on the flaxen blades, blood dripping my hands.

After a long time at this, I finally tired, my jaw so tense it hurt my face. With my heart beating me ragged, I leaned back into my knees, looking up at the black sky. Trying to breathe. And then I noticed. No sound. No voices. A prickle ran hot up my skin and I scrambled to my feet. Straining my eyes, I scanned the night… and saw no one.

"Laidea?" The name went out under my breath. “Laidea!” This time I shouted over the meadow, but was met with no response. My heart sped faster. A new warrior, I trembled, my eyes darting over the vast black plain. Where was Laidea? Weakness swirled my knees. I was alone. Just me and the demons.

Chapter 21

I could sense them. Feel them. Surrounding me. Watching me. I struggled to breathe through their haze of putrid rot and spoiling fruit. And even as it burned my eyes, I refused to blink. That would be the moment they took me. They were waiting for me to move, anticipating it, their stink clouding me like hot breath. Closing in. And I stood trembling in it.

Time passed over like a slow death, but I could not risk moving. The moon hid behind a veil of clouds, offering me only a glimpse of faint glow. The glow moved from half sky to above my head as I stood like stone. My legs ached with the constant stillness. Had a candle been burning my time, it would have burned twice over by now. So many unspeakable and gruesome thoughts traveled the pathways of my mind, torturing me, and I shivered at every one. I didn't know where my friends were, but my imagination abounded with disturbing possibilities.

The grueling of black and endless meadow taunted me. Such a vast expanse of land, and yet, I had nowhere to run. Hands cold and shaking, stiff, I waited under a black and starless sky. Isolated, but never alone. No… alone was a welcomed friend that I had not the fortune to know. Every short while, something jerked the grass, stopping my heart. Cutting chills across me. I knew… it was them.

The wind twisted ghostly fingers over the tall pampas, their stink slithering in and out of its invisible hands.

If morning would only come, if day would only break, I could escape this cursed meadow. This place of dry and shriveled bones. Of death. No lifeblood ran here, only the blood of the taken. The meadow’s yellow grass dripped with the red of the taken. The scarce trees sprawled up like claws from the dust and the field crackled with the sound of dead blades. The moon hid its face from this place, as did her stars. The only life here was not life at all, but some place in between life and death. An undead, unsettled, mass grave of angry spirits, reaching bony fingers up for any who entered in. Pulling life down and feeding on the soon dead.

My mind rambled, unceasing, exhausted from the constant thinking. But there was nothing else but to think. All I had left were my thoughts, but thoughts of light refused me in this place, instead luring me deeper into my darkness. Abusing me with my most foul imaginations. Suffocating me with my own black memories. Punishing me.

Hungry, thirsty, and scared, my body stiffened and ached, muscles tingling in pricked agony. My chest wound now bled through my binds.

A sudden sway in the endless stalks came, like a procession of demons riding to me, the chill of it stinging my cheeks. I held my stance, staring through the dark. Searching the plains. The high grass stretched as far as I could see. My hard and short breaths returned, the only sound above the night wind. I held, waiting, clenching my axe. Nothing…. Nothing came.

Relieved for a brief moment, my mind forsook me again, twinging my belly with burn. Sinking my heart into a bog of despair. Saratiese…. Saratiese! No, don’t think on it. I shook my head as if it might shake the thoughts from my mind. But it didn’t. The demons called Dread and Foreboding forced through. Where is she? What if she is dead?

Overcome with this heart crippling thought, I dropped to my knees, easing the burden on my legs, but mostly ceasing to care. In this black moment, I’d drained down to the bottom of my hope, only weak scrapes of it now keeping me alive. My demons now stood before me, blocking out my trepidation of the dead meadow.

“What if… what if I waited too late?” The words snuck out under my breath, spoken aloud solely for myself. The cold night chilled me into a tremble, but more so did my own mounting regrets. These demons from my past, they were growing. Overtaking. Filling me with despair like an urn overflowing with stale oil.

And I finally; after loosing my family, after loosing Saratiese, after the battles, after the blood and the death and all the violence… I finally realized. None of this mattered. Nothing I do matters. I can change nothing. I couldn’t prevent the Queen’s capture and I can’t save her now. I wait alone in this cold, facing death, but it fails me. Even if I do survive, what will I do when morning comes? I’m alone. Saratiese is gone. And everyone is missing.

I’ve wasted all my time on things that could not be changed. My mouth went dry. The image of Saratiese in my hut that day after my ceremony lifted to me. She hovered in my mind like a ghost, nearly materializing in the field. The drain on my body took me to her, and I could see her in my memory of that day. See her now.

“I’ve hated myself for not forgiving you. And even in that day of our first battle, when I saw you with those soldiers, I shame myself with these words but… I struggled. I came to you, but my heart would not. Not even that day.”

I dropped my chin to my chest, ashamed, holding back. “Everyone tells me to forgive you, but nobody will tell me how. I’ve tried so hard. I want to forgive you. I want to forgive myself. To be free of this burden. I just don’t know how.” Sobs shook in my chest, tasting salty in the back of my throat. Warming behind my eyes. I kept in my pain for but a moment more, then stopped my tears. Realizing I had broke. Still unresolved, I surrendered.

“I’m sorry, Sara. Sorry I wasn’t there. Not a cycle past. Not before the soldiers. Not this night. I never seem to be there.”

Chapter 22

Deep in the underbelly of the Gregorian fortress, Perseathea sat in the quiet. Alone. The cell loomed dark and she stared into its blackness as if her thoughts played out before her. The tortures, now countless, blurred with the dark to haze her mind like numbing herbs. Her dry mouth gaped, a testament to her lethargic trance. She didn’t know how much time had past, just that it was night because the cell now brimmed with cold. She had sat this way since the last time they had come. Just sitting and staring as they beat her. Again and again. Over and over.

She had stopped talking to them. Stopped indulging them even with her wit. It only made their fists like rocks, and she’d never admit it aloud, but the soldiers were breaking her spirit. But, she determined, her spirit could be broken without loosening her lips… and she would not tell them. Ever.

Besides, when the soldiers came back, her part would no longer matter. She was nearing her end. Her body infected with weakness. It wouldn’t be long till she could no longer hold on. Her will was dying. She wanted so much to bust from these chains, take the guards at the door and race out. In another circumstance she could. She would. But tonight, she sat two battles later. No food. No water. And the beatings came constant.

Gragore was not going to keep her alive, she knew that now, and she refused to fulfill her only possible purpose to him. The rest of this… just a game for him to revel in. But even now, it was her nature to fight. It repeated over in over her head. What she could do. If…. But her blood dried over her body like a parched riverbed now, the sackcloth they had finally dressed her in stained a stiff, blackish red.

Her head pounded. Her swollen eyes ached. Hunger pained her stomach with a familiar guttural growl. Bruises welled over her entire body, making her every move sore and agonizing. She could feel, hear, her bones splintering beneath her flesh. And too much clogged her head now for any rational thought.

She could feel herself losing the battle in her soul. She could be brave and strong for them, but not for herself. Not anymore. Too much had come this time. Too much had led her to this night, back to this cell, and this time she wasn’t going to escape it. She wasn’t meant to. But her heart bled, knowing her children needed her. Her instincts screamed out for her to go to them. To protect them. She knew the danger they were in. And she understood the need of her people as well, what would happen to them if she died before she could warn them. Her heart hurt for GarTaynia, but mostly, it cried out for Laidea and her daughters.

Exhaustion rolled Perseathea’s eyes into the back of her head, her parched throat struggling to take in shallow breaths. She could feel herself, coming in and out of the darkness. This sorrow, the loss of herself, urged her heart to fight. Her heavy chest pushed weakly against the heavy chains binding her. Unable to keep her weary eyes open now, the already dark cell blackened before her.

Her mind, though frail, managed to summon her. Worry her. Even now. The thought of Laidea forced to go on alone became unbearable. They had shared their lives since the day they met. Perseathea knew Laidea's strength, but knew the deepness of her heart as well. Underneath the calm warrior lay a bleeding heart that pained deeper than anyone suspected. Laidea was tender, the woman just covered it well, suffering in silence. Perseathea saw her like no other ever had, and she knew that her death would break the warrior.

Perseathea, glorious Queen and unmatched Amazon warrior, looked up into the void, just a woman… searching strength as silent tears slipped her bruised cheeks. She tried to think on the happy memories of Laidea and her girls, her only wish to make these her last thoughts. Because she could not be strong any longer.

She looked up to the goddess in desperation, the hurt in her soul stinging far greater than any pain her body had known in her long thirty years. Now, she’d come to a place where she could no longer bare it. No longer fight it. At rest with the thought, Perseathea gave up, begging the goddess to take her. To turn her body cold. She thought on Laidea’s face, and on the day her girls were born. A weary smile gave curve to her lips as she let her head slump back on her neck. Breath fought up her chest, and then gave ragged decline. The black became blacker. Perseathea lost her sight, but her heart would not give up the love of her family. She held to them. Coldness shivered over her, dropping her numb… and she let go.

Chapter 23

A hiss fingered through the grass, waving the blades above my head, and I held my breath for the hundredth time. The night loomed dark. Black dark. And that hiss cloaked in it, coming and going through the field like a legion of ghosts. Tricking my eyes. Speeding my heart in my chest. Turning it into loud, coursing thumps in my ears. I hugged my knees. I just have to make it till daylight.

But a new wind brought a hint of that stench back, making me question my senses. Did I smell the decay? Or was I simply so frightened I was paranoid of it? A long while, I’m uncertain of the amount, passed me by with the stink gone. Which had reassured, as well as vexed me. If the reek disappeared, so might my friends.

The next foul breath of night wind answered my question. The death fumed in so heavy it felt as if my skin crawled with it, drinking the stink into my pores. My body, my hair, my nostrils felt gritty with it. Every breeze likened to the gate of the underworld opening up before me, coughing up the rot of its victims. Turning my stomach. I could taste it. I stopped breathing, sealing my lips to keep from vomiting.

A figure in the grass, just paces away, caught in my sight. In a sharp breath, the spoiled air sucked into my throat. Chill bumps rushed over my skin like ice water. White knuckling the axe in my hand, I slowly lifted to my feet. Shivering. Staring. I couldn’t make out more than the white of the eyes, nearly glowing in the dark. With the swaying blades tickling my shoulders, I strained to clear the figure. It was gone. I tightened the grip on my axe, my palm smearing in nervous sweat against the handle.

To my right, the grass gave a sudden jolt. I jerked to the side, craning. Staring without blink, my eyes dried under the desiccated breeze. I saw nothing. My tongue felt like sand in my mouth… and the grass behind me stirred. A sudden jolt to my left. Close enough for me to catch the movement in my peripheral. The stink now clouded unbearable. Suffocating. Choking into my mouth and nose.

Begging my nerves to calm, I kept a sweaty grip on my weapon, remembering the last thing Laidea said. I stood like a lone statue under the moonless night, refusing to move a muscle. The high grass shivered around me, a stinking ocean of hiss, and my body trembled in turn. I shook, holding back tears, and unexpectedly, began thinking about my mother.

Fear seemed to lift her to my thoughts. It reminded me of the child like part of me that still very much lived, making me yearn for her arms to hide in. To protect me. I needed to see the warmth in her face that always brought me comfort. I missed her. Her and my sister. So much sometimes that the loneliness in me ached like a phantom scrape across my heart, stinging with every beat.

Another gust wafted, fingering the decayed breeze through my hair. Molesting and taunting me. Gripping my heart with a near crippling dread for my friends. For Saratiese. For myself. At only sixteen, I’d never even heard tale of a place such as this. A land swallowing people up like a monster. A hungry monster now waiting to swallow me.

The grass jerked at my side, stopping my heart. To my front. Paces up. Paces back. They were all around me now. Everywhere. I stood cold, chest heaving. This was it. I was out of time. I slid a cautious hand to my amulet, touching it in prayer. And then I ran.

I didn’t make it three full paces before something ripped from the dark, grabbing my ankle. Screaming, I toppled to the ground in a jaw bruising thud, my axe tossing from my hand. Dirt and blood split my lip, burning and gritting in my mouth. I strained my fingers toward my weapon, veins sprouting my forearm, but before I could touch the handle, the axe sprung from the grass.

Whatever held my ankle bruised into my flesh, yanking me back so hard I thought my hip might break from its socket. I squirmed, fighting, rolling in the grass, screaming my throat ragged. I caught glimpses of movement behind me. A blackness flowing like demons. And a pale and dirty hand trying to break my ankle. But in my struggle, I never saw the beast clearly. The meadow clustered thick, hiding parts of who ever, or whatever, had me locked in this excruciating hold. And the night still loomed so black and starless that I could narrowly see a pace before me.

My face hot with screaming, I kicked wild at the hand with my free foot, but my captor stood strong, holding me with a single heavy grip. Struggling and clawing at the dirt, I wrestled violently in the grip, my quick breath burning my lungs. The blades and dirt scratching my stomach. Choking on the grit and blood, I floundered, twisting in the grass like a beached fish. My lower legs ribboned with slashes. Bleeding. Stinging. The more I resisted, the deeper the claws dug after me.

I turned onto my back, arms thrashing. I kicked again, fighting and out of breath, but the black flow with pale hands scratched up my thighs. Its face still hid from me, even as it clawed nearly to my waist. I kicked again, one after the other, for an uncountable series of jolts. But all I could see in my frenzied struggle were the whites of its eyes. And I could smell the blood busting from the center of its face.

Ripping backward, I felt the ground drop out from under my legs. I sucked down to my waist in the dirt before I could clench enough grass to hold on. The tall grass stung me with slices as I slid down, being swallowed up. Digging my fingers in the dirt, I fought to stay above ground, but the heavy arms below wrapped around my waist, yanking me down. My muscles shook as I heaved against them, gritting my teeth. Fighting. Kicking. Then suddenly, I sprung forward. Shoving face first into the dirt, my breath knocked from me, and the lightness of my legs came back. Scrambling to my knees, I got to my feet. Running.

Chapter 24

Blood streamed off with sweat as I ran. Chest burning. Side paining. I sprinted the dark, running at the top of my speed. The grass rose higher, snapping into my face, my outstretched hands guiding me.

And I tripped. Unable to merge my speed with my balance, down I flew, busting into my elbows in the dirt. I clawed back up, the night breezing my cheeks again before another moment could pass. I didn’t know if the demons were right behind me. Chasing. I refused to look after tearing out of that hole, never glancing back over my shoulder, but I ran like their breath heated my neck.

Sprinting the endless field, sharp grass sliced my skin in jags, like thorns. Bringing blood. But for the reoccurring sting, I barely noticed, my mind too panicked. The night hovered over me so dark, and the meadow stretched so broad, I couldn’t be certain which direction I was heading. Back to the valley? Or toward what lay beyond this cursed field? If the field ever ended. Disorientated, I desperately searched the black night, overwhelmed by the high grass now swallowing me up to my chin. Sweaty blood trickled into my eyes, stinging and blurring my sight. I wiped it, only smearing it worse. And I pushed myself to keep running.

I didn’t know how long I’d been running, but it felt like forever. Forever, though, didn’t feel long enough. Whatever haunted this meadow, I couldn’t get away from it. Through burning lungs, I could still smell the stink. It floated everywhere. All around me.

With my mouth as dry as sand and my lungs on fire, I slowed my pace, trying to catch my breath. I walked the grass, eyes wide to my eerie surroundings. The same view as before. Yellow grass as far as I could see capped by an ink black sky. Salt tasted on my upper lip, dripping my chin. My chest heaved and my eyes still burned in the sting of salty blood. Stopping, I palmed over my face.

Before my fingers left my forehead, I felt my leg rip out from under me, busting my chin into the dirt. Black flashed in my eyes, ache grabbing hold of my jaw. Dazed, I staggered to my knees, squinting through the sting, scanning the grass behind me. Nothing. The grass mashed down with my fall, but nothing waited for me there, even though I could still feel the bruise of a phantom hand around my ankle. I listened to the night. My own racing breaths, loud and vulnerable, dominated the breeze. My tongue swelled, warming blood into my mouth.

Something moved a stone‘s throw from me, shoving my heart up my throat. Recoiling into a crouch, a tremble took my bleeding lips. In the grass, white eyes stared up at me, somehow from beneath the ground’s surface.

Before I knew what was happening, my ankles ripped back, dropping me to my stomach. The night sky disappeared, the soil itself swallowing me in. I sank in the dirt until only my hands felt the night air above. I fell, the wind knocking from me as I hit the dirt floor. And I began to drag. The rutted ground scraped my stomach and I couldn't see anything in front of me, only a dim tunnel that I was quickly leaving behind. Sliding backward, I clawed at the dirt with no fortune. The cloaked one dragging me clenched far too strong. Torches lined the walls of the cramped underground path. I looked up, seeing sink holes in the top of the tunnel.

When my breath came back, I choked on the taste of smoke and dust. Digging my fingernails in the dirt, clutching at sharp edged stones as they passed under me, I struggled under the hand bruising into my ankles. My feet began to tingle under the crushing fingers. I squirmed, fighting to look up at my captor, but could only catch glimpses of the flowing black cloak as it trailed behind the figure. My leathers pulled up under my arms, leaving my Allegiance wound the brunt, tattering the binding into the dirt. My chest already swelled with bruises and now blood smeared it again, my blisters busting and oozing. Blood seeped into the dirt in front of me. With the sting and tingle of the ground tearing open my scabs, I felt my energy draining out as well. Barely able to breathe and near vomiting from the pain, my eyes rolled back.

The dragging stopped. The black Cloak dropped my swollen ankles to the dirt in a heavy thud. I tried to focus my blurring eyes, dirt and blood as bitter as vinegar on my tongue. Hot gags wrenched in my throat, trying to force my vomit. My breast wound fired, bleeding and aching, the pain of my ceremony ripped wide open. The cloaked figure leaned over, pulling me up by the hair. Its white hand came down in a flash, bludgeoning my cheek. I dropped into black.

Chapter 25

I woke up in the dark. How long had it been? Days? Hours?

"I can’t…" mumbles fell off my swollen lips. I turned to lift and realized, "I can’t see."

Lightheaded, bewilderment blurred me and I laid back down in the dirt. Blackness shrouded, refusing to give way to any shapes. My hair sopped with sweat, trickling the salt into my eyes, drenching my face.

"Why can't I see?" My panic got lost in the dark. Sitting up again, I smeared the sweat and grit from my face, blinking repeatedly.

"Where am I?” I asked myself, wiping blind eyes, palming into my sockets. After long, black moments, dim surroundings began to emerge.I slid a wet palm over my face, trying to regain clear thinking. This dark was hot. Cramped hot. Like the walls were closing in on. Sweat saturated my whole body. The mysterious place likened to being trapped in a tomb, and just the thought made me struggle for breath.

I sat smothering in my boiling sweat, gritty with dirt, gasping for air like a fish plucked from water. Breathing in so deep, the smell of my sweat steamed up my nostrils, bringing something else with it. It smelled as if I had been… soaked in something. My skin felt strangely soft, the deep smell of blood and grime gone. Instead, my skin smelled like spoiled fruit.

I grimaced, sniffing over my arm. The pungent smell amalgamated with my sweat to create a rotting odor that reminded me of dead animals putrefying under a hot sun… and molding peaches? The same stench from the meadow, and it fumed heavy in this black place.

Then the sounds came, taking my attention. Screams. Sounds of pain. Maybe torture? Definite fear. A few moments later, a collection of many screams sounded all at once. I couldn’t wager an exact number, but it sounded to be the noise of a crowd. And then they dropped into mumbles, too far away, too low, for me to decipher. After these voices faded, a whistling of wind came to me. Howling, it moaned in and out, all around me, from whatever loomed beyond my place in the dark.

I lifted, crouching on sweaty toes, tensing them in the dirt. Bulging my near blind eyes, I brooded over the screams that threatened me from not too far away. The people sounded close, sounding just beyond my limited sight. I tilted my ear up to where they had sounded just moments before, somewhere above my head. The howling wind brought their murmurs back to my black den. I held still. Listening to… chanting. Faint at first, the voices lifted, filling the place, until it echoed the underground. Sending a chill under my skin. I couldn’t understand the chants. They were sung in words I’d never before heard, but I sensed it in my soul, they rung out ill omened. A chant for the damned.

Am I the only one left? The only one alive? I thought over many things, but mostly on Saratiese. I forced my mind to cut off from her image. It stirred me with too many concerns and emotions. The thought of her did no more than fill me with fear. Fear and dread. More than I would have thinking only on myself. And I knew that if I wanted to find her, I had to believe she was still alive, whether my heart was truly convinced or not. It didn’t matter. The only way out of this place was in believing Sara to be well and waiting. Waiting for me. Saratiese, Laidea, and the others. I would find them, and we would all get out of here. Out of all of this. Or die trying.

Attempting to stand, I thudded my already aching head, learning fast that there was but enough room to crouch in this space. After caressing my throbbing head, I felt my way through the pit, searching blindly with my hands. Dust coated my throat, and the death stench filled every crook in the hole. My body bruised sore, and there were no words for the excruciating pain that tightened my chest.

I put my thoughts on Queen Perseathea, dwelling on her strength. Her courage. Her example as a warrior and a Queen. She would never be defeated by this. She accepted no failure. Swallowed all pain. Rallied on, forcing fear to bow its knee. This is who I could become. Who I longed to become. And now was my chance to grow into that Amazon warrior. With new resolve, I kept my thoughts on my Queen, paying no heed to the sinister chants resonating the distance.

A flicker of light appeared. The beam gave my eyes a slight guidance over the hole, revealing me a place to stand just a few paces away. The mystery light shone through what looked to be a crudely cut porthole with wooden bars, carved into the dirt wall up diagonally from my place in the dirt. The amber glow bounced rhythmically behind the bars. Growing. I stared, my fingers tensing the dirt. Someone was coming. The fire floated in the black. Bobbing, brighter and brighter.

Now, the light blared directly behind the bars. My mind rushed with terrified thoughts. Of who held the torch and if it was those abnormally tall black cloaks. I knew the answer. Who else could it be? But I’d never seen any race of people take down a company of Amazons so quickly before, and take down the greatest of our warriors. Hippolyta, Laidea. How could I fight such things?

A grating sound scraped the dirt from above, raising the hair on my arms with a chill. The light burned inside the hole now, two cloaked figures hovering like tall shadows behind it. Heat from the torch burned my cheeks, suffocating me with its black smoke. A white hand levitated out from behind the fire. I stared on it, but with the fire so bright and the hole so dark, I couldn‘t make out the faces. So the heavy hand struck me, dropping me on my face in the dirt. Again, I tasted warm blood in my mouth, a taste becoming far too familiar these last couple of days. My unbearable sweat still saturated me, coating my wet skin with dust and grime. The heavy hands floated over me, like white bones piercing the dark, and the two figures garbled back and forth in strange words.

A swift kick thrashed into my stomach, stealing my air and tossing me onto my back. I looked up at them, my head aching, hazing, as the two figures began to blur. I felt so weak. Not yet recovered from the tear in my wound, my energy remained elusive. My whole body ached. Tired. Another boot busted my nose. The burn of blood trickled inside my nose, tasting in the back of my throat, and I drifted into another sleep.

Chapter 26

Silence… as if no sound existed. Silence so tranquil it became feeling. An emotion. An experience. A warm and soothing wave, as gentle as the womb, embraced Perseathea. Cradling her exhausted muscles and caressing her whole body. Akin to waking after a satisfying slumber, she opened her eyes, meeting with vague shapes swirling above her in various hues of turquoise, blurring also mauve and sparks of gold. All of it hovering as if by magic. Floating herself, she felt parallel to that magic. Drawn into it.

But the tranquility, like a pleasant dream, seemed somehow too serene to be real. Enchanting, but quizzical. Am I in a trance? Perseathea gazed at the swirling shapes and colors, trying to reason if she had passed into the next world. The throb in her head was gone. The aches in her body absent. Only a light tingle stirred her scrapes, feeling less like pain and more a sensation of life. It seemed her sight, which still hadn’t cleared, and her muffled hearing, were the only two senses lagging. The rest were immersed in a warmth of liberation.

No. Something else was wrong. If this were the higher lands, and she dead… then why couldn’t she breathe? Bolting up from under the glassy surface, Perseathea gasped. Capturing her breath, she didn’t know if she had been awake under the water for uncountable seconds, or a mere few. And she had no recollection beyond her last beating in that sweaty, fly swarming cell.

She steadied into vigilance, her wits easing back to her. Once her eyes settled, her jaw dropped, stunned by where she stood. A scented bath dancing with water lilies and candle flicker stretched out before her, its end hidden by rising steam. The hot mist hung heavy, soaking the place with a balmy, sweet smelling heat. Through the haze, white washed walls sprawling with green ivy materialized. Vibrant blooms, amethyst colored roses, burst from every angle, seducing the chamber with fragrance. Sheer tapestries the color of a virgin’s blush cascaded from a canopy circling the bath, flirting on the breezes of twilight. Stacked throughout the chamber, and scattered across the marble floor, were hundreds of candles illuminating the chamber in a golden glow. Their hot drip made waxen fingers down every stone. Columns reached up to elaborate frescos. Portrayals of man’s most fleshly desires spread the length of the arched ceiling.

Dropping her eyes back to the steamy bath, running her fingers through the water, she smoothed its oils between her thumb and finger. Lifting her hand, she breathed in the intoxicating scents, and her chest tightened. This place… wasn‘t right. The chamber likened to a den of flesh, one tailored to the specific pleasures of an emperor or king. It stood worlds away from her cell. Dropping her hand back to the warm bath, Perseathea listened, searching the steam. And a woman’s shape transpired in the mist.

The young woman stood also in the bath, the water’s soft ripples licking at her hips. Lilac silks draped her, tumbling over her skin to boast her furtive curves. She appeared delicate, her skin soft and flawless. Midnight black hair garnished with lilac blossoms spilled down her shoulders reaching to sway atop the water with her purple silks.

Perseathea approached, wading vigilant, her finger tips sifting the rose petals, lilies, and floating candles. As she neared, the young woman took a step back, her dark and mysterious eyes cautious. Understanding how intimidating a warrior woman must appear to a kept girl, Perseathea stopped where she stood, deciding instead on words.

“I am Queen Perseathea of GarTaynia. An Amazon.” The bath remained silent, only the ripples splashing the sides of the marble. Perseathea steadied her gaze on the girl behind the mist. “What is it you are called?”

She ventured another step toward the stranger. No words, but this time, the girl did not move away.

“Do you understand my words?”

The mysterious woman considered Perseathea for a long moment before answering.

"Nahlla."

"You do understand me."

The girl let a curve take her plum lips, her brown eyes brightening. “I understand.”

“Where am I?”

Nahlla waded to Perseathea, closing the gap between them. “The hot spring. They brought you in moments ago.”

“Who brought me in?”

“Gragore’s men.”

Perseathea’s heart sank at this. Even without any reasoning for how it could have happened, a small part of her had hung onto the hope that she had been rescued from the cursed fortress. But even imprisoned in the fortress as a child, she had no memory of these hot springs. Gragore had always forced her on an alter of his wicked gods, making her a disgusting display or sacrifice.

“They tossed you in lifeless, leaving you.” Nahlla interrupted Perseathea’s thoughts. “We were afraid you would drown.”

“We?”

Nahlla gestured over her shoulder. Staring through the steam to the marble, Perseathea discovered more girls outlining in the drizzle. She looked back to Nahlla.

“Where is Gragore now?”

“I don’t know. All that I know is that we are to tend to your every need.”

Perseathea looked at her bruised and discolored palms floating under the water. Why had Gragore allowed this? Why would he keep her in splendor? His way was the way of imposed submission. He treasured it as if it were a golden image. Worshipped it. Submission through beatings and rage came as natural to Gragore as eating and sleeping. And he enjoyed it as much, if not more.

"Do you desire anything?" The girl glided a slow finger up Perseathea’s arm.

Perseathea flitted her gaze up. "What?"

Nahlla’s tone turned velvet. "Would anything… satisfy you?"

Arching an eyebrow, Perseathea waded a pace closer, now standing intimately close to the girl. Close enough to smell the scent of perfumed oil on her skin. The lilac in her hair. Leaning into Nahlla, Perseathea whispered.

“What is it that you would offer?”

Nahlla twirled a lock of her dark hair around a playful finger, whispering her hot breath in Perseathea‘s ear. “Whatever you ask of me.”

“Information?” Perseathea said the word flatly.

The woman’s body pulled rigid with the sound of breath sucking into her chest. She pulled away from Perseathea, her sexual demeanor crushing beneath fearful eyes.

“I… no. I can‘t-”

“Nahlla, I know you can help me.”

The woman took another step back, as if the growing distance between her and Perseathea would somehow distance her from the question. “No. Gragore will have me split by the horses.”

Perseathea took hold of the woman’s hand, “not if he doesn’t know.”

Nahlla pulled her hand free, covering her breasts, embracing herself with folded arms. She looked down at the water, tight lipped.

“What is it you have to protect here?” Perseathea put a gentle palm on Nahlla’s shoulder. “I know what you are to him, and what he would have you be to me. You don’t have to live like this.”

The girl stood with an acquiescent expression. “I have no other choice.”

“I was here, long ago.”

Nahlla looked up in surprise at those words.

“I know what it is to live like this. To give what you give.” Perseathea tugged at Nahlla’s elbow, leaning into the girl’s ear. “I can get you out.”

Nahlla stood for a long moment, hope and fear wrestling in her eyes. “What… what is it you want to know?”

Chapter 27

Saratiese…? Wake up! I must wake up…. I repeated the words in my mind, but a black heaviness weighed on me, churning my fragmented thoughts slower than thick mud. Behind the dark of my eyes I could still smell the death and molding peaches, still taste the gritty blood on my tongue. Most confusing though, is that I felt myself moving, my toes dragging in dirt. I could be dragging to my death, my very life depending on my fight, but I hung so far under lucid. So far away from awake. No matter how I tried, I could not rouse myself. Unable to refuse my lethargic state a moment longer, I fell back under. Sleeping….

Sounds crawled into my ears, but I couldn’t understand them. They sounded far away. I felt far away and a thunder of pain clouded my head. I strained my face in the brutal ache, squinting an eye open. Blurry at first, the images began to clear.

A cavern? A spectacular sight surrounded me, stretching as vast as the world above ground. And there were people, hundreds of them, lining the walls. I forced my heavy head up, straining sore eyes. Two Cloaks held my arms. That’s when I realized my toes still dragging the dirt… I couldn’t have been out long.

They were taking me into the mass of people. Afraid of what they were planning, I thrashed into a struggle, remembering my fight. Forcing it out. But the Cloaks clamped down on me, hard, reminding me of their strong fingers. Weak and clouded, I gave in quick. I wasn’t getting away, not like this. I hurt too much and my head hazed. And where would I go? I had no idea where I was or how to escape. I slumped in their hands, giving back into the drag, and began searching the strangers lining the walls.

"Askca!" Came a shout.

My eyes picked out Hippolyta. The warrior stood shackled between two strange men.

"Hippolyta!" I called back, relieved the woman was alive. “Have you seen Saratiese?”

Hippolyta shook her head as if the question saddened her. I tried to keep my eyes on her, fearing I’d lose my friend in the multitude. The Cloaks drug me past, rapidly bringing my concerns to life. Hippolyta faded back into the patchwork of prisoners. My breathing slowed. At least I’m not the only one.

The people blurred into a montage of unfamiliar faces. Haggard and weak, they stared back with hollow eyes, looking at me as if I were already dead. Glimpsing ahead, I spotted Commander Laidea, shackled at a bend in the cavern. The woman stared back on me, her eyes wide and relieved. I mirrored my relief, but did not call out to her. Something in the Commander’s expression told me to keep quite. I noticed an empty space beside her, and began praying under my breath.

And at the goddess’ silent prompting, the Cloaks slowed their pace, shoving me into the vacant spot. A heavy hand pushed me into the wall, mashing my tender wound, stabbing a fire that sucked the air from of me. I clenched my fists, paling under the pain. The other Cloak grabbed my wrist, ripping it up into a waiting shackle. As it clinked shut, the first Cloak’s hand lightened against my burning chest. My other arm ripped up. When it clinked shut, the two Cloaks loomed there, their stench urging a gag in my throat. For the first time in that faint cavern torchlight, I got a look at my captors.

Freakishly tall, their skin dinged pallid, ashen like the palest of moons. It struck me that they had probably never seen the light of day and that is why they were hunting at night. If only the company had come upon the meadow in the daylight. Their faces were ghoulish and thin, like skin stretched over bones prying up from beneath. They looked as if death held them already; sucking the color from their skin, stealing the meat from their bones and fuming their decay up like a dark cloud. Puzzling that they’re so strong, their grip like an iron vice.

Their eyes were a deep white, like the round of color had been plucked from their centers. The only hint of color, a faint pink orb floating in the middle of the white, never settled on one thing. It seemed like the Cloaks were always peering off at something in the distance, something that wasn’t there.

An elongated hand, twice the size of my own, sprawled out before my face. It stretched so thin that it looked like mere finger bones with sallow nails. The grayish finger cooled against my bottom lip as if no lifeblood ran it. The Cloak still would not look directly on me. I sucked in short breaths, my chest heaving as the Cloak edged into me. When his paled face was but a breath from mine, he stopped, holding there, smelling me.

My breath hid in my chest. I huddled back into the wall as far as it would take me. Withdrawing, he grunted strange words to the other Cloak. As they spoke, my eyes traveled down the flow of their haunting black shrouds, never finding feet. Are these men at all?

The Cloaks went quite, peering in my direction with their hovering white eyes. The one, who had just touched me, grabbed my jaw. Pinching around my chin, he forced my mouth open, drifting a bony finger over my tongue. I trembled, feeling his fingernail graze over each of my teeth. Counting? Again, even this close, his eyes would not settle on my face. He took in a long breath, smelling me again, and then let my jaw loose. Swallowing, I tasted a vile flavor matching the smell of spoil on my skin. Apparently satisfied, the two Cloaks left me. Breathing again, I turned in my chains, frantic and whispering.

“What are we going to do? How are we going to get out of here?"

"Breathe, Askca." Laidea replied in her usual calm tone.

I slowed my breath, and my words, trying not to panic. “Commander, tell me you know what to do.”

Laidea watched the Cloaks drift back down the row of people, heading toward the mouth of the cavern. "I don't have any answers yet."

I stared after them as well, still haunted by their odd movement and abnormal height. My eyes traveled away from them, circling the underground. The cavern loomed a mammoth place, as intimidating as it was beautiful.

"Where are we? Are we dead? Is this the underworld?"

Laidea replied with a raised eyebrow. I shrunk back, trying to breathe. To gather my wits. My courage. If we were dead, I would wade through extreme grief. Never would I have expected to end up in the underworld. Not that I deemed myself a hero worthy of the golden fields of the higher lands. But as an Amazon, I’d always been taught that upon death the goddess would embrace us into her order, a higher land created just for our kind.

The Commander turned in her chains, probably able to sense the thoughts racing behind my eyes, and her expression softened.

"I worried for you, Askca."

“I thought you were-" I stopped myself, keeping the rest of my words unspoken.

"I know. So did I. But I expect most of us made it."

I felt a twinge in my stomach. “Most?”

“Most.”

“Who have you seen?”

Laidea paused. “Hippolyta, Tilliandre, Lathenia, and Valasca.”

“What about Saratiese?”

“Askca, don’t worry on it.”

“But-”

“They’ll bring her in.”

I stood quite, fearing the Commander wasn’t telling me everything. Saratiese was taken before me. She should be lining the walls somewhere. She was taken before me. It’s all I could think. I felt Laidea touch a finger to my hand, gesturing comfort.

“Askca.”

I looked to her, my heart hopeful.

“They’ll bring her.”

I nodded to convince myself. “I thought I was the only one left, Commander."

"We all thought that.” Laidea put her focus back on the Cloaks crowding together at the mouth of the cavern. I looked over to them as well, my thoughts drifting back to the smell of the place.

“What is that?” I cringed. “First it filled the meadow. Now it’s on our skin and it reeks heavy down here.”

“I have an idea.” The Commander left it at that.

I dropped my questions, realizing how much the woman must have burdening her mind. This slowed the quest, if not ended it, and the Queen’s time was slipping. I kept to my thoughts in silence for a while, exploring the cavern.

Its beauty intrigued me like nothing I had ever seen before. Pale rainbows shimmered in the rocks spiraling down like fingers from the ceiling, reaching down toward lofty, pearl colored stones. Constant drips echoed the place like a light summer rain. Torches glowed on the walls, splashing light over the misty colors and curvaceous stones, dancing the shadows to life.

But… an immense cauldron, offsetting and disturbing, loomed at the center of the place. This cauldron, the dying people, and the rancid stench merged together to bleed the splendor out of the underground. This secret place, tucked away from the sun and her days, a world of enigma hidden beneath the meadow, was a prison.

"How are we going to get out of here?" I mumbled to myself.

"I don’t know."

"I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you up there." I swallowed, frustrated with myself. "If I had, you wouldn’t be here."

"We would’ve come for the others, one way or another. So don't."

"Laidea?"

The woman shifted her eyes to me. “What?”

"I am sorry."

"I know."

An abrupt rumble resonated the cavern, clattering as if a storm thundered through the underground. All the prisoners looked up. A heavy shadow clouded just beneath the jagged ceiling, swirling like an angry black hurricane.

My jaw dropped. "What is that?"

"I think it’s…” Laidea stared into the loud black thunder, “bats."

"Bats?” My eyes stayed fixed on the swirling black mass.

“Thousands of them.”

“Gods, where are we?”

Laidea never answered, and so we watched, mesmerized by the multitude of bats, so many that the walls vibrated at our backs.

Chapter 28

Emerging from the bath, a chill hit Perseathea’s body. She hugged herself, her wet sackcloth clinging to her curves, holding in the cold. A tremble took her lips, and the next thing she knew the girls were bundling her in furs. The concubines led her to a collection of plush pillows scattered on the warm marble floor. Perseathea sunk into the sumptuous bedding as the others crowded around.

"Are you hungry?" Nahlla questioned.

Perseathea's heart leapt. "Yes."

Nahlla nodded, glancing to Malene. A moment later, the thin woman returned with a goblet in one hand and a platter of wild grapes sided with nut bread in the other. She handed it to Nahlla, and then resumed her place in the pillows.

“Eat your fill.” Nahlla said. “This food is to be given of you only.”

“Are you not hungry?” Perseathea questioned.

“We’ve already been fed for the day.”

Perseathea took the food with a grateful nod. “Fed for the day… it is truly Gragore to treat you no better than his dogs.”

Malene scoffed. “He treats his dogs better.”

Perseathea sunk a handful of grapes into her mouth, relishing the plump tartness, gobbling them down in a rush. While she munched on a morsel of nut bread, Nahlla introduced the girls.

“The thin one who brought your food is Malene. The young one there on your other side is Kellen.”

Perseathea took a stiff swallow, eyeing Kellen. “You can be no more than a summer older than my youngest child.”

“I am eleven in winters.” The girl answered.

Perseathea questioned Nahlla with troubled eyes, thinking back to her own childhood.

“We are all his concubines.” Nahlla answered, staring down to the marble.

Perseathea flitted her eyes back to Kellen. “I’m going to do all I can to get us out of here. So be it?”

The young girl nodded.

“The last of us…” Nahlla pointed to the two women on the edge of the pillows, “Soh-la and Shella.”

The fair haired girls smiled back at Perseathea. “We are sisters.” Soh-la declared. “From Tohsean.”

Perseathea nodded with a smile while taking a generous drink of honey wine, then wiped her chin.

“About what I need to know, Nahlla, is there any way out of here? A passage you’ve seen or a panel in the marble?”

“This is not our usual chamber. We are kept in a hovel a couple paces off of Gragore’s chambers until he sends for us to be bathed and brought. We don’t know much of this chamber… but that guards are posted at its only door.”

“Sometimes I hear the guards playing games, tossing coins in the dust.” Soh-la added. “Maybe you could-”

“Even if she got passed the guards,” Shella interrupted her sister, “she would never make it past the yard. It brims with soldiers at every hour.”

Malene snorted at this. “You will never escape this fortress.”

Perseathea noticed an overwhelming bitterness hanging on thin Malene like a demon spirit. She sat slumped on the marble, all the light that had surely once lit her eyes, now dark. Likely eaten up by cycles in this hell. Even the air around the woman seemed heavier. Malene wore her hopelessness like grave clothes.

“It has been done before.” Perseathea lifted her chin, trying to share her confidence.

“You and your daughters are all Gragore has spoken of for a cycle past.” Malene iced. “He is not going to give you up that easy.”

Hit by the mention of her daughters, Perseathea stiffened her posture. “What has he said?”

“I’ve overheard him with his men,” Soh-ah answered, Shella nodding in agreement, “saying we are only for his lust. To please his flesh. That he holds his seed for his chosen females. Three sacred Amazons.”

“Three?” Perseathea asked, fearing… knowing the answer.

“He knows of both your daughters.” Shella’s sad eyes conveyed her sympathy. “He has called you each by name.”

“He knows of Palius.” Perseathea said under her breath.

“But his seed has not been held back.” Malene said, her thin frame pulling up in sharp posture. “We have all bore him at least one child.”

Perseathea felt her chest twinge at this. Fearing, she asked. “What becomes of these children?”

“That depends.” Nahlla said. “Whether it is a male child or not.”

“He keeps the male children, as you would expect.”

Shella mumbled. “He brings them up in the art of war. Of age, they are brought into his ranks.”

“If the child is female he butchers it.” The barbed words spat from Malene like poison and her truth froze all of the woman into an uncomfortable silence.

“That has been the way of it, for uncountable cycles,” Nahlla said, breaking the quiet.

“He has got every eye on you.” Malene glared at Perseathea as if she somehow blamed her. “You are not escaping this fortress.”

Nahlla looked to Malene, her eyes trying to coax the thin woman. “She’s the only chance we’ve got.”

“Then we’ve got no chance.” Malene eyed Perseathea again, daring her to defend herself.

Perseathea recognized the woman’s pain, understood it, and had no interest in pricking it open. The only thought she could allow herself now, was of her daughters. How she could reach them in time. Arguing with Malene would not further that cause.

“Nahlla‘s got a chance.” Kellen looked up with hopeful eyes. “Tell her, Nahlla.”

Holding Kellen’s hand, Nahlla looked to Perseathea. “There might be one way.”

Perseathea swallowed another mouthful from her goblet. “What do you mean?”

“There is one man…” Nahlla looked around to make certain there were no ears perked at the door, “a very kind man here at the fortress who helps us whenever he can.”

“Who?”

“We don’t speak his name,” Nahlla whispered, “for fear that it will be overheard and he will be put to death.”

Perseathea raised an eyebrow, torn between expectation and doubt. “This man, he will help us?”

Nahlla nodded. “If he can.”

“Why hasn’t he helped you before?”

“He has.” Soh-la cut in. “Many times has he saved me from Gragore’s lust… distracting him with false complaints.”

Perseathea tore another morsel of bread, still unconvinced. “Complaints?”

“Yes.” Shella scooted in closer to Perseathea. “Saying there is an interloper at the wall or a wild dog in the stables.”

“He has done it for us all.” Nahlla hugged Kellen in under her shoulder. “Many times at his own expense.”

“Most often for Nahlla.” Malene eyed the dark haired woman. Nahlla dropped her face.

“Is there something between you and this man, Nahlla?” Perseathea asked.

Malene kept her cold glare on the woman. “There is now.”

“We are in love.” Nahlla answered, as if it were something shameful.

“Malene is jealous because she loves him too.” Kellen added.

Malene shot the child a burning glare, forcing her to retreat further under Nahlla‘s arm.

“But he is not the only kind man here, there is one other.” Shella offered. “A confidant to this first man.”

“They are as close as the day is to the sun.” Soh-la smiled at her sister. “Like brothers.”

“And you can not tell me his name either?”

“No!” Soh-la hissed as if Perseathea’s mere mention would bring the man harm.

“I understand.” Perseathea pulled the fur tighter around her shoulders, warming her wet body and enjoying the feel of a full belly. “I need to get my strength back before I do anything. And I have to plan before Laidea gets here.”

“Laidea?” Kellen perked her head up. “Who’s Laidea?”

“My companion, my closest confidant, and one of my Commanders.”

“How do you know she’s coming?” The child asked.

“She is the only one who knows exactly where I am and… well, it’s a very long tale and I don’t have time to spin it just now. Instead, I need to figure out what I’m going to do.” Perseathea looked about the room, resting back on her elbows, still partway tangled in the furs. “I will tell you this. I have finally figured out why Gragore would have me kept in here.”

Soh-la looked up. “Because we are to tend you back to health.”

“You could do that for me in your hovel. There is only one reason to have me kept in the most splendid chamber in the fortress. It’s the last place my warriors would look for me. He knows he can’t trade me for Askca if my people somehow get to me before he can get to them.”

What should we do?” Nahlla questioned.

Perseathea paused. “How soon can you speak with these two nameless men?”

Chapter 29

Much time passed in the cavern, but I couldn’t wager how long. Hours? Days? No day or night came to the underground, so my guesses waded feeble, tiring in a lake of lost thoughts. The endless glow of torchlight taunted me. Laidea warned me of the heaviness of her mind with her hours of silence. In those long hours, her eyes rarely met mine. A hard sigh hissed from her lips more than once, and the tension on her face creased so severe it appeared painful. The Commander desired time alone with her thoughts. So I devoted myself to the silence, planning escape.

The growl in my stomach deepened, hurting as if my insides had been scraped out. Hollowed out. But I still couldn’t bring myself to eat the slab of raw meat the Cloaks fed the prisoners. The pink chunk of flesh lay in the dust at my feet, collecting ants. It wasn’t only the foul look of the food, but more my plaguing thoughts. Saratiese still hadn’t been brought in.

Twisting in the shackles, my arms ached, prickling, the iron cuffs pinching my wrists. Now accustomed to the constant ache, I searched the weary faces, for probably the hundredth time. My search, again, ended in a heavy sigh. Had Saratiese been brought in, I would not have missed it. My focus kept constant on the Cloaks at the entrance, and the Cloaks never left. I glanced over at Commander Laidea. The woman looked exhausted. Her body now slumped against the wall, her eyes glazing. I could see the lethargy weighing on her, but she fought it, refusing to give into sleep.

"Laidea. The Cloaks have yet to leave once. I’m lost for a plan. Have you thought of anything?"

The Commander hesitated, never looking up. "No."

The way of the woman concerned me. She looked near dead, hanging in her shackles the way she was. I leaned into her.

"Commander?"

"Humph?"

"Are you aright?"

She glanced at me with glassy eyes. "Yeah."

I remained unconvinced, but knew well not to question the woman warrior. Out of respect, I kept my tongue from it. "Tell me, you are a great warrior who has seen much, have you ever seen anything like them before?"

"What do you mean… like them?" Laidea closed her eyes, and for a moment, I though she might drift into sleep.

"The Cloaks. What are they?"

The woman stood in silence for long moments. “They’re humans, of course."

“Like us?”

Laidea snickered. “Well yeah.”

“How? What about their skin, their eyes, their bizarre stature?”

“Their skin is pale because they’re cavern dwellers. From the way they hunted us, I would think they’ve never seen the day. Ever.”

I paused. “But their eyes….”

“Sightless... I think.”

“A whole clan sightless?” I glanced back over at the five or more Cloaks at the cavern’s aperture.

“I believe it is the heritage of their people.” Laidea swallowed, looking as if she struggled to focus. Struggled to get out her words. “Far more primitive than we are. An ancient clan. Their people have probably dwelled in these caverns longer than the Nation has existed.”

“If that’s so, and they are sightless, then why do they have the torches?”

Laidea paused. “Maybe the torches are for the prisoners, so that we don’t feel as tempted to escape in the cover of darkness.” She shrugged. “Or maybe so we can see them. Fear them. I can not be certain of these things, Askca. It is all just guess.”

“But why do they want us? I‘ve seen no slave labor. No concubines. No reason for them to take us. Why capture all these people only to chain them up?”

Laidea turned to me, an odd expression contorting her face. She looked on me as if she believed me dim of wit, which was a look I’d never seen her make before to anyone.

And her eyes glazed even more muddled now.

“New warrior…” she near chuckled, “they eat human flesh.”

I gasped. “What?”

“The cauldron. The rotting smell of peaches on our skin-”

“Why is it on our skin?”

“We’ve been soaked in whatever it is they tend to sweeten our flesh for the cooking.” She said flatly, looking completely unfazed by the idea. “And that lingering smell of death-”

“Yeah?”

“They must have bodies stored up.”

“But, but I thought you didn’t have the answers. That you didn’t know what they were.”

“I don’t know who they are. I’ve never heard tale of this place. But I have heard of such a clan eating people. It wouldn’t be in our blessed creed not to eat of people, if it were never done, at least by other tribes. And now, I know what I see.”

My mouth went dry. “This doesn’t make sense. That doesn’t-” I felt panic rising in my chest. “We’ve got to get out of here. I’ve got to find Sara.” I looked over to find Laidea’s shoulders shaking, her face turning red. “Are you… laughing?”

“Your face!” She spat out, jerking up to eye me.

I looked on her, uneasy. Troubled. Something was happening to her. She hadn’t been the same woman for the last while. She was changing.

“How can you be laughing?” I stammered, but she didn’t respond, too caught up in her merriment. “Laidea, what’s wrong with you? We are about to die and you think it‘s… funny?” I leaned into the woman, searching her scarlet face. “Don‘t do this to me, Commander. I need you. The company needs you.”

“I… I don’t know….” Laidea laughed on, powerless to finish her words.

Already days into exhausted and afraid, I could take no more. My patience had run dry and so I told her. “You’ve lost it, Commander. You’ve plunged into dull wit.”

At that, Laidea laughed all the harder. She looked to be burdened for breath as she shook in her shackles, tears rolling. It disturbed me. This was not Laidea. This was not the calm Commander I’d idolized from childhood.

“Something is wrong. Why are you acting like this?”

“It’s so amusing. Your face.” Laidea replied, still shaking with laughter. “Your eyes nearly spat from your head!”

The hooting went on for sometime without my uttering another word. I realized it pointless. It seemed Laidea had been possessed by some unclean spirit, and my reasoning did nothing to disentangle it. The Commander’s laughter and tears eventually slowed, at long last dropping into silence. She never moved her eyes back to me after that… no matter how much I pleaded. For hours she would only hang there, repeatedly whispering for the Queen under her breath. On an on she whispered, until submitting into sleep.

I stood in silent concern, once again looking to the aperture where the Cloaks gathered. There was movement. I stiffened into a stand. The Cloaks were bringing someone in. The wave of black robes gave way to two Cloaks coming down the isle.

At the sight of her, exhilaration sparked my heart, bringing me back to life. “Sara!”

I strained against my chains, the two Cloaks bringing Saratiese up my row, her blue eyes locking into mine. But within the moment, they drug her past, my gaze following after. Saratiese looked back to me, a weary smile lifting her lips.

A goodly distance from where I stood, the Cloaks shackled her to the wall. From what I could see, she looked well. Or, well enough. Purpled with bruises and scratched, Saratiese still appeared bright eyed. Clear headed. I slumped back in my chains, relieved, breathing for what felt like the first time since I‘d come into the cavern.

After more measureless time, one by one, those unaccounted for were brought in. As soon as every Amazon had been shackled into place, we found ourselves scattered throughout the cavern. Aside of Laidea and I, none of the others had been fortunate enough to be placed together. It would be up to the Commander and me to figure out a way to communicate with the others.

But just now, there wasn't much to communicate. Not only was Laidea acting strange, but the high number of prisoners also did nothing for my dwindling hope. Many of the people looked as if they’d been wasting away in the cavern for weeks. In all my time in the underground, I had only seen one way out, and that was the same way we’d come in.

Chapter 30

A commotion exploded, jerking me out of my stupor. Across the cavern, a fight erupted between several Cloaks and a handful of prisoners. Over exactly what, I couldn’t yet see, but one man in particular did catch my eye. A soldier, he wore the warrior colors of the southern basin, emerald and black. XenTok territory. The colors on his empty scabbard sped to me like a flaming arrow. A signal. The XenTok were an enemy of the Gragorian. An Amazon ally. One of the only warrior legions allowed to travel our lands.

Surrounded by several angry people on the walls, the outraged soldier stood out, cursing loudly, kicking at the robed attackers. His wrists raged, rattling in the chains, and his face strained into angry scarlet.

I glanced to Saratiese, who also watched, rigid yet alert to the loud brawling. I stared on her till she sensed me. What’s happening? I mouthed. Saratiese, with a fear I could see shining in her eyes from clear across our distance, gestured to what the soldier was trying to protect. That’s when I realized why the man flailed so wildly. At his side stood a woman, crying, pulling away from his violence as far as her chains would allow, attempting to shelter a boy. And it struck me. The Cloaks weren’t trying to get at the soldier. They were trying to get at his child.

The people shackled around the small family; farmers, women, and warriors alike, were in a frenzy trying to distract the Cloaks. Yelling and shaking their chains. I didn’t understand. Why did they want the child? The boy could be no more than four or five summers. If what Laidea had reasoned of the clan of Cloaks was true, why bother with such a tiny meal? Disturbed and confused, my heart beat my chest with heavy thumps. The soldier was an Amazon ally, a sworn friend, and here a company of our people stood, chained and unable to aid him or his family.

The boy peeked out, wide eyed, as he burrowed in behind his mother’s hip like a baby bird under her clipped wing. The soldier kept up his fight, thrashing his shackles, profaning the Cloaks. One of the demons, looming heads taller than the soldier, clawed into the man’s jaw, smashing his head against the wall. Once, twice, three times he busted the soldier’s head against the rock to still him. And it did. The dazed man struggled to breath under the Cloaks long fingered palm. Then, just as quickly as they had grabbed him, the Cloaks let the man loose, moving onto his woman.

I watched with my heart in my throat. A rising talk hummed the prison, and in the dim torch light, chains began to clink in time together. I looked to Laidea, but the Commander hung in her shackles, sleeping. I tightened my fists, clinking my chains, adding to the mounting wave of jangling now brimming the cavern. The scatter of about fifty women, all most likely mothers and representing more than twelve separate tribes, began shrieking as one. Soldiers from the XenTok as well as ThuMera, natural enemies, came together, shooting curses at the Cloaks like an attack of poisoned darts. Even the simple men ranted threats. The cavern was spiraling into a full blown riot.

But a sudden light surged the cavern, hurting my eyes, distracting me, as well as everyone else from our revolt. Looking to the center of the cavern where the light blared, Cloaks swarmed the giant cauldron, bringing it to life with hellish flames. The dim of the place shattered with a blaze of orange reflecting in every sliver of crystal in the cavern walls. Like hot fingers the fire licked up toward the ceiling. Smoke billowed throughout the stretch of cavern, choking the underground.

A swell of sound brewed, feeling as though it started as a rumble beneath my feet, rising like murky flood waters. But this sound was not from the prisoners. It rose up, a dark hum, shifting into a chant that crawled out from the pallid lips of the Cloaks. The ill omened howl I’d heard in the dark of that pitch black hole before. The Cloaks lifted their faces to the jagged ceiling, its crystal reflecting with fire, to where the host of bats once swirled.

I sensed that they were not looking at the hollow place, but paying homage to it. I looked up to the black cavity. The bats were no longer there. They had disappeared out the main aperture some time ago. But as the bonfire beneath the colossal caldron illuminated, something up there glinted at me.

The chanting intensified, turning louder, and I kept my eyes up. The glint brightened, and as if it were birthing, and the cavity lowered a round crystal stone. Slowly. Presenting it above the cauldron. With all the Cloaks stopped in their place and chanting, there blind eyes uplifted and focused, I couldn’t tell how the stone was being lowered. Maybe it tethered to some sort of bindings, maybe it levitated by its own power, but either way it captivated every prisoner in the cavern. All of us stared on it, bewildered. I had never seen anything like it.

The further down it came, the more its features cleared, revealing that the crystal stone curved, likened to an egg shaped human skull. Completely transparent. The way the Cloaks worshipped before it, I reasoned it to be their God.

When the chanting stopped, my skin went cold. I looked back to the soldier’s wife and his child. The three faded in and out behind a sudden swirl of Cloaks. I strained my eyes in the burn of smoke, catching glimpses of the Cloaks as they towered over the boy.

"Mother!"

I heard the boy shriek, panic seizing his innocent face as a countless jumble of white fingers grabbed after him. The woman busted against her shackles as one of the robed demons smelled over her child. The boy squirmed into the wall as far back as he could, his eyes pinched closed, his tiny tears glistening in the fire light. But the Cloaks took a hold of the boy, loosening his wrists and ripping him from the shackles like a rag doll.

"No! Please!” The mother screamed, tears gushing as she begged, reaching after her son.

“Don’t touch him!” The soldier demanded through a clenched jaw, straining in his chains. “Take me!"

The woman’s cries soon turned to blubbering rambles, broken with wild sobs, but I could still make out every syllable the soldier threatened. His sharp and desperate words pierced in through my ears like a knife, stabbing into the deep of my heart. Bleeding to my soul. The mass of prisoners watched in a frenzy, voices rising again. Shaking chains. Stomping feet. The underground thundered once again with our rebellion.

"Mother!" The young boy wailed, over and over, his small voice somehow penetrating the thunder to find my ears. A Cloak had him, and under one monstrous pale hand, both of the boy’s elfin hands disappeared.

"Mother! Mother!" He screamed through tears, being yanked from his hysterical parents under a flow of black robes.

“We’ve got to help him!” The words shot from my lips. I turned to the Commander, only to find her still in a deep sleep.

“Laidea!” My mouth went dry, my chest heaving like I had been running the hills. The noise in the cavern elevated to such an intensity I could scarcely hear my own shouts now. “Why won’t you wake up!”

The Cloaks surrounded the flame blackened caldron. The panicked child scrambled, desperate to pull loose of the Cloak, but dwarfed by the demon, he possessed no chance of breaking free. More Cloaks appeared, spilling like a black flood through the cavern’s mouth. Every Cloak took a torch from the wall, turning to depart from the cavern. As they disappeared back under the gaping mouth, they let in the darkness. The cavern was of such size, that the edges grew dark, the only light being the blaze at the center of the prison.

I could still hear the tireless screams of the boy’s mother, but could no longer see her. Her painful sobs were all that remained in the black edges of the place. Only shapes of people outlined in the flicker now. The lengthy procession of Cloaks returned, the torches gone from their hands, hundreds of black robes drifting passed me until a circle drew around the cavern. The caldron shined at their middle, a hot and hungry heart. Their hum rose up to resonate the underground again. At this, every prisoner fell under a hush. We knew. It was too late for the boy.

I flitted my eyes back to the child. He stood in front of a Cloak, paralyzed under the heavy white hands. His face pasted pale, eyes protruding as he shook at the fire‘s edge. Silence slithered into the cavern like a serpent, stealing sound from ever mouth. Even the cries of his parents dropped, stolen away by disbelief.

The Cloak slid ashen hands up the child‘s throat, slow and methodical, swallowing up the boy’s face in his hands like a Sookurie swallowing prey. Only white hands shown above the boy’s neck. A silent moment passed, every eye on the child, his little fingers scratching at the monster palms suffocating him. His muffled cries escaped the white fingers, rousing the sounds of his parents torment once again. These three were the only voices. The rest of us dropped speechless. In horror. My tongue felt like a suffocating lump of sand in my mouth, choking any words I might have.

And with a jerk of the Cloak‘s hands, the boy’s neck snapped. His little body went limp, only the tuffs of his hair peeking out from between the demon’s fingers. The boy was dead and the wailing of his parent’s pierced the shocked whispers, cutting my heart with a thousand stinging cuts.

The Cloak lifted the lifeless body up, the flames lighting in the dead boy’s blank stare. And the chanting began again. Filling the cavern again with their ghoulish uttering, the macabre clan moaned on for long moments, icing fear into my veins. Their chants proved clear. The boy was a sacrifice. An offering to the crystal skull hovering over the cauldron flame. No life proved sacred here. The Cloaks dropped the child into the caldron, letting his motionless body float face down in the hot bubbles.

The fire baked the cavern into a swelter and billowing smoke choked out the already dim colors of the crystal. A black line of robes streamed back out under the aperture, their white eyes reflecting the flames as they passed, leaving the cauldron to boil. Conjuring up the aroma of cooking flesh.

Chapter 31

The caldron loomed cold at the center of the cavern. The meat of the boy’s body, slipping off the bone like a well boiled chicken, had been stripped and collected into an urn. They’d carried it out of the cavern. I never saw a single Cloak lift the grotesque meat to his lips. The vulgar ceremony of sacrifice must not be over yet.

Laidea still slept. I wished for my own sleep, but it would not come. Not after what I had seen. And my arms tingled in the shackles, stinging me with imaginary pins. My back stiffened and hunger pained me far greater than I had ever known before. But most odd was the cold clutching at me. Chilling my skin and causing me shivers. Even my lips trembled in it. The fire had long ago been doused and the torches never brought back in. The once burning scorch of the cavern departed, leaving our prison colder than grave clothes. The only light fluttered from a single torch at the cavern’s mouth where a dwindled number of Cloaks kept guard.

Most of the cavern slept through the cold. All was quite. Another exchange of Cloaks came. I had spent most of my time bitterly awake, noticing the coming of fresh guards about every candle mark. In all this idle time of silence, I had observed everything, the Cloaks, the cavern, the prisoners. Already noticing the variety of tribes and clans people displayed in the underground, their range in age now struck me. From children to people on the edge of death, all travelers were taken by surprise in the dead meadow. The meadow must be a trap.

And the skin of the Cloaks says they never go above ground... yet they have water. There must be water down here, other than this constant dripping in the cavern. A river. And if it comes in… it must lead out.

"Laidea." I waited a moment, then whispered again. "Laidea."

The Commander continued in her slumber, unflinching. I nudged the woman with my foot. No response. This wasn't right. Laidea slept very light. The sound of a twig snapping at a hundred paces would stir her. Yet she had slept through that boy’s murder and now she wouldn’t rouse at my nudging. Still, I brushed my elbow against her’s once more. Nothing. I sighed at what I was about to do.

"Laidea." Kicking the warrior’s leg, hard, I raised my voice. “Commander.”

Laidea slumped against the wall, unaware and lifeless, head hanging. I reached out a shackled hand, pulling at the woman’s limp fingers.

"Laidea. Wake up."

Murmuring, the Commander attempted to raise her head, but soon after dropped back asleep. The Commander did not have a reputation for this. She was well known to possess senses above slumber. She commanded her own company. Stood as the Queen's left hand to Masseeia's right. The woman was too experienced to sleep this deeply. I took her motionless fingers in mine, caressing them.

“You can't do this to me, Laidea. Not now.”

As I caressed the Commander’s fingers, a wisp of her auburn hair tickled across my cheek. I pulled in a sharp breath. It was the first breeze I had felt since the capture. The thought tensed my whole body. That small breath of wind meant the cavern must have an opening or a tunnel leading above ground… nearby. I searched the cavern with a grave eye, eyeballing every speck of crystal.

After a near hour passed, I found it. My heart leapt wild. I couldn’t believe it. Hidden in plain sight, it called to me, a crack in the cavern so discreet I hadn't noticed it in the hours, the days, I’d been trapped. I didn't know where it led, except that it must lead out of the cavern. A narrow cut, it would only permit passage to one person at a time. I studied the nook hidden across the cavern for an eternity. Remote. Secluded. Free of Cloaks and prisoners.

If I could get out of my shackles and to that break in the wall…. My thoughts raced. I didn’t know where it would go or if it went far, but it was a chance. Our only chance. I glanced to the Cloaks. They huddled slackly around the lone torch at the mouth of the cavern, seemingly absorbed in conversation and unconcerned with the sleeping prisoners.

I stared on the Cloaks as I tugged at my chains, quick jerks, trying to determine if they could possibly break. I attempted several times, but it only loosened my discouragement. The shackles were solid. I‘d known that ahead of time, but I had to try.

But then a trickle made its way down my hand. I looked up to find blood dribbling down my finger, running into my palm. I flexed my hand, examining the cut. A deep scratch oozed blood down the back of my thumb. I turned my eyes to the wall behind me. A jagged piece of crystal. As I pulled to remove the bothersome sliver, my foot squished into something cold and mushy. I kicked the muck from my foot. It flung from my toes, reminding me of the Cloak that had attempted to force feed it to me earlier that day, or night. Whichever it was. With my rejection, the Cloak had flung it at my feet. I sifted over the mush with my toe. The texture felt odd for meat. Gritty. One thing after another connected in my mind. I looked to Laidea, then across the dim cavern. Most of the prisoners were asleep.

"Askca." Came the whisper. I flitted my eyes at the sound of the Commander’s voice. Laidea stared back at me, discomfort tensing heavy on her face.

"Laidea?” The name escaped me in a relieved sigh. “Gods, are you alright?"

"I'm not certain. I don't remember falling asleep.”

“You were acting like you were…” I searched my words carefully, “not you.”

“It feels like I'm waking up from battle.” Laidea squinted hard. “Like I’ve suffered a hard blow to the head."

“You were scaring me. Like you’d lost your wit and-” And then it rushed back to me. Pulling posture up in my chains, I leaned into the Commander. "Never mind that now. Laidea… I think I found it!"

"Found what?" She stretched in her shackles, still squinting at the pain in her head.

"A way out."

Laidea's eyes brightened, bringing her to life. "Where? How?"

"It’s the reason you feel so odd.” I whispered in a rush of excitement.

"Yeah?"

"There’s a strange herb."

"What?"

“In the meat. The Cloaks must use it to cast the prisoners into a deep sleep. It’s why they terry so unconcerned at the entrance.” I paused. “Commander, you slept so heavy you didn't wake at my kicking you."

Laidea’s forehead wrinkled. "You kicked me?"

"Look." I smeared my toe back into the mush of meat again. “Look at the color. There are specs of root all through it."

Laidea examined the dull green specs dotting the pink flesh. Her eyes lifted. “And I ate a full stomach of it.”

I nodded. “You slept longer than most of the prisoners.”

“Gods.”

“Commander.” I lowered my voice again, making certain the Cloaks wouldn’t overhear. “I have a plan that might get us out of here.”

Chapter 32

“Keep your words low.” Laidea whispered.

I gave a cautious glance to the Cloaks, then went on.

“They are using a potent root of some sort to poison the prisoners. I didn't eat it, so I didn't pass under. You did and you’ve been sleeping like the dead.”

Laidea looked to me, the pain in her head still plaguing her expression. “How does that get us out?”

“We poison the Cloaks.” My words brightened. I had thought long thoughts in the dim torchlight of the cavern, finding a piece of my plan here, another morsel there. Discovering the root came as the final piece.

Laidea sounded less than convinced. “What?”

“They'll fall asleep and then we escape."

"Askca…” the woman sighed, dropping her face from me to roll her shoulders, trying to work the tension out of her neck. “We are still in shackles."

I couldn’t help but smile. "I know,” I gestured my finger to the split in the cavern wall, “but look."

The Commander squinted in the dim light. "What?"

"Just off those shadows there."

Laidea stared for a long moment, then another. Just when I feared she’d given up, her mouth dropped.

"Gods…."

"It's not guarded.” I leaned into her. “If we can get to it, I'm certain we could escape through there.”

Laidea took in a deep breath, staring at the split. I could tell by the look on her face, even with the tension creasing her forehead, that she was thinking. Spinning it around in her mind.

“It‘s a start, but it still doesn’t get us out of these shackles.”

“I know, but hear me.” I leaned in even close, hiding my words in the lowest of whispers. “One of the Cloaks must carry the key. Most likely one of the two that brought us in. If just one of us could get loose, we could-"

"If anyone could break loose” Laidea jingled her chains, “don’t you think they would have? Even the children stand in tight shackles, and their wrists are considerably smaller than our own.”

“Why?” I cut in, anxious and on the edge of my words. “Where would they go? Now, we have somewhere to go.”

The Commander nodded, but I knew when she started rolling her neck, that she wasn’t persuaded. Laidea’s actions always spoke the truth, and I’d learned by this point, if her eyes weren’t pinning yours, she wasn’t pulled in.

“We'd have to poison every Cloak in the cavern. And even if we only poisoned one shift of guards…” her thoughts trailed off, ending her neck rolls. “How do you plan to poison them in the first place? They may be primitive, but they‘re never going to be foolish enough to-"

Laidea cut herself off, her gaze at last pinned into mine. She could see it on my face. In my eyes. There was only one way to make certain the Cloaks ate the poison root.

"Oh gods.” Her face contorted with disgust. “I ate human meat."

"And you slept."

"What you’re thinking, Askca, is heinous."

"If what you say is truth, they’re going to eat us anyway."

Laidea's jaw dropped at my words, but I needed to prove myself, and getting my sisters out of this wretched underworld would do it. I didn’t plan to die down here. Not as food or sacrifice. And I hadn’t forgot about Queen Perseathea. Or GarTaynia. Our quest would not end this way. I’d never give Masseeia the satisfaction, no matter what we had to do.

"If we don’t get out of here Queen Perseathea is dead.”

I left it at that, knowing the words would sink deep enough to stir the Commander. I knew she would do whatever it took to get us out of the cavern, but what I was proposing was an Amazon sacrilege. And I knew that. Eating human flesh, or encouraging others to eat human flesh, went explicitly against our blessed creed. It was foul. Forbidden. Savage. I never before believed that any tribe, no matter how barbaric, did such a thing. Not until now.

Laidea looked on me, here eyes serious. Penetrating. "It’s human sacrifice."

"It's the only way."

“To think the day has come that human sacrifice is ‘the only way’.” Her tone revealed her distaste, her disappointment, and I knew that those feelings were directed mostly at herself. For sleeping under the root. For ending up here in the first place. For what she felt was failure.

“This isn’t your fault, Laidea. If anything, it’s mine. I’m the one who didn’t listen to you. I’m the one who got us into this quest. I’m the one-”

“This quest is your fate, Askca. If you had not felt your calling, I would have prompted you.”

“What?”

“Perseathea and I knew a long time ago that this day was coming. If there is one thing Gragore is, it’s relentless.”

“How could you know he’d come for the Queen instead of me?”

“I didn’t. We just knew that one day you would be called up to your destiny.”

“As the Consecrated?”

Laidea paused, the first hint of light coming back into her face. “As an Amazon warrior. You are your mother’s daughter.”

A warmth hit me at those words, and for the first time, I actually believed, actually felt, that Queen Perseathea was my blood mother. Balena would always hold a place in my heart. She raised me. Loved me. She was there. But I, after a long and tormented cycle, suddenly didn’t feel so alone anymore.

“Which,” I began hesitant, “is why we have to escape this cavern. I will not give up on Queen Perseathea.”

“Still, Askca, there are things to consider.”

“What things?”

“We don’t know if they eat every part. That poison would go into the stomach. What if the Cloaks don’t eat the stomach?”

"We eat every part of an animal, and we are animals to them. Commander, this is all I have. If you want to save Queen Perseathea, we have to do this.”

"And who would agree to such a task?"

"If we’re going to die anyway,” I looked over the sleeping people, taking a breath, “I’ll do it. Maybe that‘s my destiny. To get the company out of here so that you can save the Queen.”

“No, Askca.”

“But we’ve no other choice. I’ll give my life for my

sisters. For my Queen.”

“No. We can’t take that chance. Too much might depend on you. Besides, I would do it before I let you.” Laidea paused, “and I will not allow any of our sisters to defile themselves with such sacrilege.”

“Then we have to find someone else.” I put the words firm, but only afterwards did their heavy implication sink into me.

“It cuts at my heart, but I have an idea.” Laidea breathed in deep, glancing back to the hidden split in the wall. “We’ll plot out the details, then send word to the others.”

Chapter 33

We whispered over the plan, plotting in detail what could be done and what couldn‘t. The scheme was a stretch, but here in this dank underworld, it was our only hope. What lie beyond that dark sliver in the wall held the key to our life or death.

The Cloaks exchanged guard twice in the time it took us to plan, the prisoners all waking from another induced slumber, but at last, the time came. We sent word down the wall. A stream of murmurs trickled down the line with it, every prisoner showing horror at the notion. After rows of people, word finally reached Hippolyta. She heeded to the young woman beside her. The mother who had lost her boy.

Her husband put up a long objection, shaking his head as she pleaded, his face turning red with strain. With anguish and sorrow. But he must have realized what Laidea and I already discussed. The soldier stood too muscular, and would most likely not be the Cloaks first choice in a meal. But his wife curved buxom, indicating their time in the cavern hadn’t been long enough to emaciate her. She appeared healthy, as well, and willing to sacrifice herself. Heartbroken, it was a way to honor her boy, and to meet with him in the next life.

After several more long moments, Hippolyta shifted her gaze to Laidea. The two women held the stare for a moment, speaking without words, and Hippolyta gave the nod.

Hippolyta's heart hung heavy in her chest. Thoughts of the young boy… the sight of him browned and bloated by the boiling water, his eyes dim and empty, staring out at nothing. The visions clinched into her heavy heart, making her wonder how his parents could ever go on from such a sight. It haunted her mind, but also brought her to understand.

"Are you certain you want to do this, Lilla?"

The woman looked up at the Amazon; her eyes sorrow filled but steady. "They took Jeremiah. I will not let them get away with that.”

Hippolyta swallowed, aching to comfort the grief stricken mother.

“And you, Judah?” She glanced passed Lilla to the soldier. “Are you certain you can-”

Lilla interrupted Hippolyta, shaking her head in warning that further words would only hurt the man.

“Judah knows this is the way to avenge our son.” She looked up at her husband, touching his fingers with her own. “He would do it himself if he could.”

The soldier’s eyes glistened as he gazed down on his wife, holding back tears.

“And he knows that he is relieving my pain.” Lilla tried to assure him. “This will give me peace. And you will meet with us again, Judah, in golden fields.”

At the next feeding, every prisoner accepted the meat, hiding it in their cheek until the Cloaks left them. The scraps then passed hand to hand down the line till they reached Hippolyta. The warrior maneuvered the speckled mush, dropping pieces into Lilla’s mouth, and she swallowed without hesitation.

Every prisoner waited in silence, speechless and unsettled from what they had agreed to do. Even if everything went according to plan, it would be another vexing sight to suffer. Every woman and child, soldier and fisherman, thief, farmer and Amazon alike, all strangers but for this place, came together under the desperate name of hope. Survival. Nervous fright surged the cavern, dread jittering every nerve. Anxiety burning in the pit of every stomach. This plan could go wrong in so many ways, and if it did, they would be punished.

Sounds of dripping brimmed the cavern, the only thing breaching their silence. The Cloaks lingered, gathering for their blithe conversations at the aperture. And we all stood quite, glancing to one another. Waiting. Hoping. Praying. And our moments drew on long.

"Agh!"

Every eye snapped wide open. I jerked up to see the young mother beating her body against the wall, her chilling screams shattering the silence. The Cloaks rushed to the woman. Chaos irrupted. All the prisoners began yelling and busting in their shackles, fueling the Cloaks aggression. The cavern became a thunderous amphitheater, once again prime for a new spectacle. Four Cloaks swarmed the woman, their black robes whirling like ghosts around her.

"Agh! No!" Lilla's face blared red as she kicked at the demons. The creatures mobbed her like a black cloud strangling out the sun. They held her, tearing and bruising into her, forcing her still under their white hands. Her husband kept his eyes far from her, unable to watch, his jaw clenched so tight I could see his veins from where I stood.

Hippolyta fought herself. Lilla had become her friend, comforting her from the first moment they had me, speaking to the Amazon as if they had known each other for cycles. The warrior wrestled with her instincts, all the fire in her belly pushing her to move. To help. Her body surged hot with blood, urging her to bust against her chains. To charge kicks into the Cloak’s stomachs. Jaws. Knees. Hippolyta forced her eyes away, pinching them shut. This had to happen. Gritting her teeth, the warrior swallowed back lumps of guilt, with Lilla’s screams stabbing into her ears.

As a Cloak shoved her head into the wall, Lilla sunk her teeth into the flesh between his thumb and forefinger, bringing blood to his pale hand. Anger poured out of his eyes like wine from slit skins. Yanking his bloody hand from her mouth, he battered her across the face, exploding blood from her lip. Ripping Lilla out of her shackles, the Cloaks drug her away, dragging her by her arms in the dirt. She squirmed, clouding up dust until her hand dropped in front of the cauldron. Yanked up, she heaved into the cold water with a splash. And her first thought was of Jeremiah, of how he had cooked in this same water.

One Cloak sprawled his white fingers over her head, pushing her under. Another wrestled to put fresh shackles on her hands and feet as she flailed about, splashing. But before the chains locked, Lilla surged a hand into his heavy black robe. A moment later, she held the key. Before the Cloak could grab it, she sucked it into her mouth, swallowing.

"No!” I shouted, panic shooting my chest like a lightening bolt. “What is she doing? That's not part of the plan!"

"I don’t know.” Laidea rushed out, shock showing on her face. “She must have misunderstood-"

"What are we going to do?” I stammered, my heart speeding in my chest. “She just swallowed it. The Cloaks are certain to find it before we can get to it."

The cavern irrupted into chaos around us. Screams and cursing. Chains clinking. The Cloaks horded around the cauldron, and Lilla couldn’t keep up her struggle. The herbs weighed on her now, a powerful urge to sleep beckoning her. Drawing her in. And she passed under.

Fire swept up under the cauldron, lighting up the cavern again. The Cloaks prepared Lilla like an animal caught in a trap, dropping bruised and molding peaches into the water to float along side her body. When the body boiled ready, the Cloaks doubled in number as if the smell of her cooking flesh summoned them. Pulling the limp body from the pot, they slid the dead woman onto a serving dish of sorts, one large enough to accommodate the size of most any prey.

Lilla’s browned and lifeless body jiggled as they lowered the plate into the dust. The single swipe of an axe blade split her head from her body, and the throng of Cloaks knelt in the dirt like a black cloud, ripping the garments from her body. Tearing at the flesh with their teeth and long daggers, they grunted and lapped over the body like a pack of wild dogs.

The defilement of the young mother, now just chunks of meat to the hungry clan, twisted my stomach into a sour boil. I could no longer keep it down. The hot fluid burned up my throat, spewing my tongue to splat the dirt at my feet. My face burned hot. I panted for breath, the heaving clenching into my stomach. I closed my eyes tight, willing my stomach to settle.

"Now we know.” Laidea said flatly, watching the Cloaks horde over Lilla’s body as if it were their first meal in weeks. “They do eat every part."

I shook my head, refusing to open my eyes. "Laidea…" I mumbled, the churning in my stomach still heated.

“The way the Cloaks are going at her, I’m not sure they’ll even notice swallowing a key.”

"Laidea.” I tried again, taking in deep breaths to settle myself.

“What?”

“I’ve got another idea to get that key."

Chapter 34

Silence. Moments passed over like days, long and never ending. The cauldron fire had long since burned out. Nothing remained of the torches but orange embers. The cavern, with its sinister shadows and smoke tinged flesh and decay, became somehow more eerie. Like a bad dream fading into a nightmare. Obscure figures drug heavy feet in the darkness. Pacing. The meat’s poison seemed to be circling the Cloaks, enticing them to sleep, but the long boned watchmen refused to give in. And I could feel it… our last chance slipping away.

A rumble boomed. Everyone looked up at the jagged canopy, whispers circulating. It was too dark to see anything much, but I knew it wasn’t bats this time. Another rumble shuddered through the cavern. It felt like I was inside the growling belly of a beast. Seeing my curious eyes studying the dark formations overhead, Laidea leaned into me.

"Thunder. It must be raining up there."

I sighed under my breath, hoping not to expose my nerves. "Do you think Valasca can do this?"

"She has to. A lot of lives depend on it. The Queen‘s life depends on it.”

I nodded, moving impatiently in my chains. "Why are they still awake?"

"They’re getting weary.”

“The herb has had plenty of time to cast its’ spell.”

“Just pray there’s enough time to get that key and get out of here. We’re cutting this close.”

Biting my lip, I fidgeted in my chains, anxious. The Cloaks ambled about, sluggish. Slowing. And finally, stopping.

"Look!" I motioned to a Cloak stumbling to his knees.

Laidea eyeballed the man, watching him stagger. “We have to wait till they are all out."

"He's out.” I could barely stand still. I kept my eyes fixed on the collection of demons, most of whom began swerving in their steps. Cloaks all over the cavern began dropping into the dust. Some crawled about on their knees, trying to find their balance. Others fell victim to the spell so quickly that they dropped where they stood, face down in the dirt.

"I have to be certain." Laidea muttered, scrutinizing the last Cloak’s every move as he weaved about, stumbling.

"Laidea, we don't know how long they’ll be out and we can’t be certain of how much time we have till the new watch comes. We have to do this now."

Laidea paused, focusing on the last Cloak as he fell faint. "Send the signal."

When the nudge reached Valasca, she took in a deep breath, preparing herself for the pain. Forcing her thumb back, it cracked into a pop. Sinking her hand down into the skintight cuff, she held her breath, straining. The cuff clamped tighter than she had anticipated and her hand turned purple under the pressure. Smashed this way, it began to throb. Ignoring the pulsations of pain, she forced her hand deeper into the metal bind, but it refused to budge. Face flushing hot, Valasca’s mind begged her to pull her hand free, but now, it wouldn’t budge in either direction. She was stuck.

"No!" Valasca hissed under her breath, jerking on the swollen hand as it crushed into bruises. Giving up on the erratic yanking, she had to go back up. Mashing her swollen hand through, arm shaking, her face flushed with sweat. At last, her sore hand drove back through. Chest heaving, Valasca cracked her swollen thumb back into place with one stinging snap. Gritting back the pain, she watched her knuckle stain from purple to black. The brave closed her eyes, letting the pounding ache fade.

Begrudgingly, she looked to her other hand. After a determined sigh, she willed that thumb back until it popped. Straining, she pulled down, slithering her hand deep into the sweaty steel. Bringing all of her weight down on it. Just as the cuff slipped over her knuckle, it stopped.

“Come on!” Every muscle in the brave’s arm tensed as she fought to draw her hand through. There wasn’t much time before it would start to swell, just as her other hand had. The cuff smashed tighter and tighter, bruising into the bones of her hand. Her fingertips blared red above the cuff, and their pain would soon summon the throbbing purple. Time is slipping, the Cloaks could wake, the next watch is coming….

Valasca yanked on her hand, desperate, forcing it deeper into the cuff. She could feel all the eyes on her, all of the prisoners, hundreds of people, watching. Depending on her. With an angry jerk, her hand finally scraped out. A pounding sting of pain followed. She lifted her trembling hand, staring at it. Blood smeared her hand thick red, wrist to fingers. The sharp edged cuff had scraped layers of skin off. She swallowed hard, grinning in spite of the biting ache. Sliding her blackened thumb into the warmth of her mouth, she suckled the blood, soothing her pain. Gripping her sore thumb in her teeth, she popped it back into place. One more to go.

Valasca twisted her body to trickle the blood from her wounded hand into the remaining cuff. Closing her eyes and dreading, she popped her sore thumb back. Again. The blood slipped her hand in, but once again, once there her swollen knuckle stalled her. Valasca's heart beat heavy against her ribs. Thrashing. Racing her breath. She didn’t know what to do. Her cuffed hand pulsated with bruising pumps of blood, aching inside the cuff. Stuck. Squaring her jaw, she pulled, begged, but the hand would not move.

Turning to anchor her feet against the wall, she wrapped bloody fingers around her suspended wrist. Leaning, she hung all of her weight on the pull. Feet pressing against the wall, she swung on the chain, praying. The stare of every prisoner burned on her back. They waited on baited breath. She could feel their tension. Their fear and their doubt. They’re not there. Think only on this.

The brave knew what she had to do. Broken bones were foreseeable. She just had to do it. And better to leave with broken bones than end up in that cauldron. Valasca tightened her grip on her suspended hand. Using all of her body weight, in one brutal yank, she finally ripped free. Her shriek mingled with a crack, dropping the brave into the dirt. She tucked her aching hand under her arm, her teeth clenching in pain.

"Ah! Ah! Gods!”

The pain exploded, bulging her eyes and speeding an urge to vomit up her throat. She squeezed a hand around her wrist, trying to break the pain flow. Her thumb would not move. Pain seared her hand with white heat every time she lightly touched the thumb. Eyes watering, she glared at her bloody hands.

Shaking it off, she lifted to her feet, sprinting across the cavern to Laidea.

"Are you alright?"

“Yes, Commander.” Valasca nodded, forsaking every bit of the ache. “But that woman swallowed the key.”

“You have to stifle every fear to do what I’m about to tell you, Valasca."

"Yes Commander…” the brave sounded uncertain, “what do I have do?"

"Search their stomachs. One of them had to swallow it; they left nothing of that woman but bones.”

Valasca’s chest tightened. “You want me to cut them open?"

"Up the stomach,” Laidea answered, “then a horizontal slash under the ribs.”

Valasca raised her purpling palms. "But my hands-"

"It’s that, or we die.”

The brave swallowed. “Yes, Commander.”

“When the Cloaks cut her flesh off the bone, they used elongated daggers. They carried the blades under their robes. Find one and start searching.”

Valasca’s mouth went dry, but she turned anyway, looking around the dark cavern. The dust littered with the slumped bodies of around twenty Cloaks.

"Valasca."

"Commander?"

Laidea’s eyes narrowed. "Hurry."

Chapter 35

Valasca sprinted to the nearest Cloak. Thudding to her knees, she labored to slow her heart. Not a half pace away in the dirt, laid the sleeping demon. A prickle of fear squeezed her. Even this close, he looked like no man, but more a devil. The devil that reached up into that dark meadow, yanking her down into Hell. Long breaths growled from deep within his chest, rising and falling, slow and loud like a sleeping beast.

Reaching out, Valasca hovered a trembling hand over the black robe. Red droplets trickled her bruised fingers, soaking into his shroud. She froze, fearing the blood might rouse him. A silent moment passed. Swallowing, she tipped her fingers to the robe, slipping it open to expose the Cloak‘s chest. His pale skin appeared moist with fever and he smelled sour, like a long forgotten, damp cloth turned musty. And that same stench of rotten peaches hung on at the end. The brave clenched her lips tight, trying to hold her breath.

The Cloak chilled her skin. He more than doubled her in size. Thin. Lanky. Strange. His face seemed to nearly disappear into the void of his hood, like a dead man sinking into a black pond. At this, Valasca felt an unforeseen relief. Thank goddess the Cloak’s eyes were shut by slumber. The thought of his white and soulless stare revived her shivers. And these constant fears; they crept through her head like insects scurrying into her ear. What if he isn’t fully asleep? What if he is pretending? Waiting for the right moment to grab me-

Another low rumble shuddered the cavern, flinching Valasca out of her thoughts. Forcing her fingers on, she cringed at the feel of the Cloak’s clammy body, feeling more like she was handling a slimy dead fish than a man. Slinking her palm down the oily skin, she ran her fingertips the length of his torso, searching his blade. Her cheek grazed his soured chest, trembling her fingers but moving them that much faster down his thigh. And she tipped his dagger hilt.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she tightened her bruised fingers around the hilt, sliding the blade from its scabbard. She drew it out, hunching over the Cloak like a tiny sculpture, still as stone but for her arm methodically guiding the blade. As she eyed the lengthy dagger, bits of flesh appeared on its crimson edge. Valasca took in a sharp breath, remembering the dead boy’s mother.

The dagger pulled free. Breathing again, she crept the Cloak’s shroud open, fully exposing his chest. She lifted the blade. Her palms sweating. Shaking. She had never before killed a man. But this she had to do, and so swallowed her nerves into a burning tangle, pitting them in her stomach. Trying not to think on it. Closing her eyes, she took in a few breaths to get her nerve up. Ready… and-

She swung down with all her might. The cold steel punctured the Cloak’s gut, hilt deep. At the feel of hot blood spurting her hands, Valasca opened her eyes. The red blared up at her, hazing her mind, the stink of bile crawling onto her tongue.

The Cloak’s eyes abruptly flashed open, white and bulging. His mouth gaped open, hissing and straining, forming unknown words. Bony hands desperately fumbled at the hilt protruding his gut. Shocked and confused, the creature gazed up at Valasca, and for the first time, she sensed his humanity.

Unable to watch the man spitting up blood, the brave turned from him. Holding firm to the dagger, she struggled against the shuddering Cloak twisting and turning beneath her, his jerking tearing the blade deeper into his stomach.

After tormenting moments, Valasca felt the creature give up. He dropped limp. Peeking back down, she watched the last of his red life spill in the dust, turning to warm muddy paste at her knees. Keeping the blade tight, her palms slipped the sweaty hilt as she waited out his last breath. His white eyes went blank. He was gone from himself now, no life left, but the emptiness in his icy stare disturbed Valasca.

Pushing out the breath caught in her throat, the brave looked up to the Goddess, mumbling under her breath for strength. And the churning search began. Her blade cut in just below the man’s ribs, jutting out like a ghastly lever that would open up his insides. Taking hold of it, Valasca forced a crude slice down his stomach, and the slash was not an easy one. It mashed the hilt against her sore hands, sometimes cutting into the dirt below. After splitting his belly, she manipulated the blade out of the thick flesh.

The next stab went in under the left side of his ribs, severing across the underside of his ribcage. The rotting odor of bile came up heavier now, the sick stink hitting her like a warhorse in full gallop. Slow pumping. Warm blood pooled around her hands, making her dizzy. Holding her breath, the brave forced herself on, coaxing her hands into the man’s open gut.

Warm. Almost hot. And a faint pump of blood skirted her hands, his insides lumping around her fingers. And a sudden hot churn twisted her stomach, watering her mouth. Rushed with heat, her face burned like the cavern was on fire. A hot, rancid juice sped up her throat and she shifted, spewing the rot into the dirt. When the sickness relented, Valasca hung her head, wiping her lips, struggling for clean breath. Calming herself.

Lifting back into posture, she stared down on the bloody shell beneath her, and forced her hands steady. Slipping back under the rip of skin, she grazed passed the feel of organs and strange fleshy tubes. Pulling back, she took the dagger into her bloody palm, sliding it back into the stomach. Guiding it around the open gut, she hacked at the tubes and flesh sack they led to. Several minutes in, and with bruised hands throbbing, Valasca’s mouth went dry. It’s not here….

Chapter 36

Cloak to Cloak Valasca searched, the stink of blood spoiling in the back of her throat. Sorting the endless bodies, her fingers waded through the hot gore and the tangle of guts. The worst of it all, the remnants of human meat. Trying not to think, or breathe in, she ripped at the flesh, forcing back the gag nudging into her mouth.

Fear clenched her chest with every futile search. The key had not turned up. Valasca grew frantic the closer she neared the end of their number. She wiped the sweat from her upper lip, leaving the stench of bloody bile to assault her nostrils. Staring down at her empty, bloody hands, the painful lost feeling pierced back into her heart. No key, and only one Cloak remained.

Kneeling down before her last search, she unwrapped the last Cloak’s robe. Aiming the dagger point, she stabbed in. Deep. Shifting her gaze from the flash of white eyes, the brave watched the entrance, listening as the last man gurgled in his own blood. The moment he went limp, she pulled the dagger free. Cutting back into his body, she prayed to the goddess before beginning her last dissection. The key had to be in this man.

Reaching a throbbing hand into the warm twirl of red fluid, she hurried passed the slime of organs. After so many bodies, she knew the feel of the stomach. Holding her breath, she wiggled her fingers in deeper, straining clear of the stink as she kept a vigilant watch of the entrance.

“Faster, faster, faster….” Valasca ordered herself, scrambling anxious fingers. Her eyes switched back and forth. The blood. The entrance. The blood. The entrance. Everyone else she blocked out. Sifting the innards, she tore unwanted clumps from the body like a jaguar ripping into a child. Fast, detached and messy.

Her heart dropped into her stomach. "It’s…. It’s not here."

Cursing, she shredded both hands through the corpse, clawing into the stomach like it hid the key as a cruel joke. Ripping and slashing, she mangled the stomach bag, her anger clenching tighter and tighter in her chest. Speeding her heart into angry thumps. Another loud rumble shook the cavern. This time, Valasca didn’t flinch.

Resorting back to the long dagger, she butchered the lifeless body, splitting more pale skin. Bursting more blood to ooze the dirt at her knees into mud. She could see them with a sideways glance, the prisoners dropping their heads, giving up. Crying. Cursing. She could hear them.

"No! No! No!” She spat out the words. “It has to be here. There’s not one Cloak left. It has to be here!”

After another series of cuts and mutilation, blood strewn from her frustrated blade so high that the red drops stained her cheek. Valasca slumped back, defeated, gritty blood stinking on her hands. Her knees. Her face. She sat quiet. Feeling eyes on her again. Aware of them more now. They burned on her back, suffocating her with their disappointment. Filling her with burden. She felt full with it, like sand packed down inside her body, weighing her into the mud. Leaning back into a crouch, she stared up at the toothed ceiling, unable to look anywhere else. The eyes were everywhere else. And she prayed.

And as if answered by the goddess, Valasca felt prompted. She dropped her head, looking back into the mud, seeing nothing at first, but feeling encouraged to consider it. Scrutinize it. And the answer came.

"How?" The whisper slipped from her.

In the bloody mud, a crimson outline of a key stared up at her. Fearing it might disappear before she reached it, the brave snatched the key up. Looking back to the Cloak’s dead eyes, she shook her head.

“You never swallowed it, did you? It hid in your shroud the whole time.”

Fumbling with Laidea’s shackles, Valasca hands could barely keep up with her excited words.

"I’m sorry it took me so long but-”

“You found the key,” Laidea felt one of her tingling hands drop, “the rest doesn’t matter.”

“We’re going to get out of here!” Valasca said, her eyes wild as she manipulated the Commander’s last shackle.

Once Laidea's arms hung free, she rubbed them to summon the feeling back. Eying the dreaded entrance, she kept her thoughts private, hoping the fresh shift of Cloaks weren’t soon to arrive.

Valasca fumbled trembling hands over my locks, loosening both with a welcomed click. I shook my arms, relieving the prickle, then ran my palms through my sweaty hair. Palming my amulet as if it offered me protection, I eyed the aperture, my heart speeding thumps up my throat. If the Cloaks came back now, this would be all for nothing. I could barely stand my fearful thoughts, hundreds of them warning me of what could go wrong, galloping through my head like a legion of mounted soldiers.

Looking to Laidea for instruction, I watched as she ripped the key out of Valasca’s hand, giving the brave a push.

“Valasca, I have a message for you to deliver, then you must get to the tunnels. I will do what needs to be done here.”

“Yes, Commander.”

Laidea dipped down to the brave’s ear, mumbling words I couldn’t make out, and at that, Valasca sprinted off. The Commander pulled back up into posture, turning to me.

“Askca, why are you still here? Get to the tunnel. Now.”

“What about you?”

“I’ve got to get our people first.” Laidea’s eyes grew impatient as I waited, unmoved. “What I don’t have is time to argue with you.”

I stood there wringing my hands, not wanting to leave Laidea, but I knew she would have nothing of my opinions, especially not right now. I couldn’t stand the thought of our being separated again, not after those endless hours in the meadow, but I held my tongue. If any of us would make it out of this place alive, it would be Commander Laidea. I should just do as she said, believing we will meet back up on the outside.

Moreover, my mind was straying elsewhere. Glancing across the cavern to Saratiese, I found the girl‘s blue gaze already on me. I turned to Laidea.

“Yes,” she cut me off, reading my mind, “go to her!”

Chapter 37

“She’s freeing the braves first, the warriors next.” Valasca looked up at Hippolyta, still bound by her shackles. “The prisoners last.”

Hippolyta took a burdened breath. “She’ll never have time for all these people.”

“She said you’d say that.”

“Of course she said I’d say that.”

“She also said to tell you that she doesn’t have time to argue.”

Hippolyta shrugged, watching her friend scurry from brave to brave across the cavern. “So what does she want me to do?”

Valasca swallowed. “Lead us through the tunnel.”

I hurried around the scatter of fallen Cloaks, sprinting across the cavern. A growing number of braves raced passed me on their way to the tunnel. I rushed up to Saratiese, out of breath.

“Hey….”

“Oh gods!” She blurted out, her cheeks flushing as if she‘d done the running. “We’re going to make it out!”

“I think so.” I slowed my breath, flitting my gaze back and forth between Saratiese and Laidea.

“Askca, I thought you were dead. Before they me brought in, I thought-”

“I know.” I cut in, hugging her. “Me too.”

Unable to return our embrace, Saratiese burrowed her face into my shoulder. For a moment, every bad memory from the past cycle disappeared and we were us once again. After a few pats, I backed up from her, glancing to where the Commander labored a hundred paces away.

“Is Valasca alright?” Saratiese questioned.

I brought my eyes back. “For now. I think her thumbs are broken. Saratiese….”

“Yeah?”

I dropped my eyes, all at once embarrassed and unable to face her. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Everything. This past cycle… everything.” She smiled and I felt the tension in my shoulders loosen.

“I haven’t been the most-”

“It doesn’t matter.” I stopped her.

“No. I guess it doesn’t.”

I could see in Saratiese’s face, the weight of the past lifting. Allowing her to breathe again. Allowing me to breathe again. We held the warm gaze, and somehow in this underground, this cursed place, I knew I’d done it. I’d finally forgiven her. I didn’t know how, but the pain drifted away from me like a boat drifting off on distant ripples.

Saratiese blew at a wisp of hair resting in her eyes, but the hair settled back across her cheek.

“Here.” I swept the lock back, manipulating it behind her ear.

Just then, Hippolyta ran up. “Askca. Come with me. Laidea wants you out of the cavern. Now.”

“I can’t. Not yet.”

Hippolyta glanced to Saratiese, a look of knowing on her face, and let out a apprehensive sigh. “Alright. Against my better judgment, but alright. But know, you’re pushing it with the Commander.”

“I know, I know.” I stammered. “But you understand, right Hippolyta?”

The warrior appeared to be taken aback by my comment, like I could read her secret on her face, but relented quickly.

“Yeah…” she gave in, “I understand. But you two better get out of here the moment Sara is loose.”

Saratiese gave the woman a reassuring nod. “We will.”

“Thanks, Hippolyta.” I offered.

“Yeah, well….” The woman said, her words skeptical, and with that, she sprinted off.

“You should go.” Saratiese said.

“Not without you.” I shook my head. “Not this time.”

Kelius ran up holding Tillliandre’s hand. Lathenia, Valasca, and Belsiphiny followed close behind.

“Saratiese.” Kelius stopped to catch her breath. “Laidea is coming for you next. She’s with Malaia now.”

Saratiese nodded.

“We’re meeting Hippolyta in the tunnel.” Valasca looked up to me. “We’ll wait for you there.”

“Don’t wait.” I said. “Just go.”

“But-”

“We’ll be alright.” Saratiese assured the girl.

Valasca nodded reluctantly, Belsiphiny pulling at her arm.

“Good luck.” Kelius said, retreating with the braves.

“Valasca!” Saratiese called after them. The brave turned back. “Thanks.”

Valasca smiled, then turned at Belsiphiny‘s urging.

Not a moment later Laidea darted up with Malaia, the warrior’s younger sister, Kia-Maie, in tow. The Commander looked at me, and I could tell by her sigh she wasn’t happy to see me still in the cavern. But she didn’t address it, instead going to work on Saratiese‘s shackles. Malaia took hold of Kia-Maie’s hand, looking to the Commander.

“I’ll get Kia to the tunnel.”

The Commander nodded without looking up, and Malaia hastened off with the young brave. Saratiese’s first shackle clicked, dropping one hand free. Laidea looked back to the mouth for Cloaks, and then stabbed into the second lock. A second later, Saratiese stood free.

Laidea glared at me. “Go.”

“Aren’t you coming?” I questioned. The look on the Commander’s face told me not only that she wasn‘t, but that she was annoyed I‘d even asked.

“There are more people to free. Go.” She went onto the next set of locks.

“But, I thought-”

Laidea whipped around, her jaw clenched so tight I could feel it. “Saratiese, get her out of here.”

“Yes, Commander.” Saratiese took me by the arm. “Askca, let‘s go.”

I stood my place. I knew I shouldn’t speak. I knew Laidea wouldn’t listen, and most of all I knew there was no time, but I couldn’t let her stay and unlock every single prisoner. She’d never make it.

“You won’t make it out of here if you do this.”

“I’m your Commander.” Laidea went on with her task, jangling at another lock. “I’m ordering you. Go.”

Saratiese tugged at my arm again, and I begrudgingly gave in. I stared back at Laidea for a moment, watching as she moved onto the next child waiting at the wall. I prayed that wouldn’t be my last image of her, my last memory, but if it was, it was befitting.

Saratiese pulled on my hand until we reached the hidden tunnel. As soon as we were inside, I felt a push of people flooding in behind us. The tunnel cramped so narrow and black that I couldn’t see a pace in front of me. I stood behind Saratiese, clinging to the girl’s leather crop as we jumbled into a long line of strangers, shoving through the constricting tunnel.

I fought to keep my balance, my arms and legs scraping against the walls as Saratiese and I stumbled through the tight, hot mesh of bodies. The tunnel closed the dark in so stringent, that I felt like I was being buried alive, swallowed up in a jostle of panicked people and choking dust. More people crammed in behind us. I clenched a tighter handful of Saratiese’s leather crop, my own chest heaving for breath as my wound stung under the burden of such pressing weight.

I gasped for air, straining in the dark against Saratiese to keep from falling. There were too many people and the number was only growing. With every new prisoner, I felt the pressure shoving the line. I couldn’t breath. I could barely move, and the shadows seemed to be leading us nowhere.

Chapter 38

Blood boiled up in Laidea's legs. Time was running out. She had to pass the key off. The Amazon Commander unlocked the shackles of a young XenTok soldier, grabbing him by the arm before he could tear away. Prying his dirt stained palm open, she forced in the key.

“You have to finish this.”

The man looked on her without words, shock shining in his frightened eyes.

“Someone has to finish this.” She repeated. “Can you do it?”

The soldier glanced down at the key, then over to the line of people filing into the tunnel like frenzied ants. Laidea tightened her grip on his elbow, pulling his attention back. “Can you do this?”

“Yeah… uh, yes.” He stammered.

“Thank you.” Laidea nodded in respect, then shoved passed, heading for the tunnel.

As she went, she kept her eyes on the path ahead, far from the droves of people still lining the walls. Men. Women. Children. A hundred or more. The look in their eyes broke her heart and if she looked on them long, she knew she wouldn’t be able to bear the guilt. But her time was done here. She had a sworn a vow to lead her company, to protect Askca, Palius, and the Queen. Even unto death. Be that her own… or the death of others. Laidea repeated that vow over and over again in her head, but it didn’t ease her heart.

A chain of high pitched screams cut her ears, prompting the Commander to glance over her shoulder. A sea of dark Cloaks poured through the entrance in a black wave, spilling into the cavern by the dozens.

The already heavy push behind me surged forward in a burst, nearly knocking me to the ground. Stumbling into Saratiese, my leg muscles burned against the shoving mass, but I couldn’t budge from my place. The dark pressed in darker and the heat of the people prompted my sweat, saturating me. Stinging my blind eyes. Coughing, dust coated into my lungs. My ribs burned like I’d been running for days.

“Sara?” I shouted over the crowd.

Her voice came to me from the darkness ahead. “I’m here!”

“Don’t let me fall!” I clenched my hands into her sides, stumbling step by step in the black.

“It’s breaking up.”

The pressure in front of us loosened at her words, and I could finally breathe again. The narrow tunnel branched off into three separate passageways, and the crowd divided, trickling over into the different turns. The rushing from behind poured around us as Saratiese ambled to the wall, sliding down to rest in the dirt. I sat next to her, smearing the grime and sweat from my face, catching my breath. The dark still loomed, but my eyes were adjusting a bit, taking in the shapes of people as they ran past us.

"You think we’re close to the outside?" Saratiese asked in ragged breaths, smearing the sweat from her forehead.

“I don’t know.” I sucked in a lungful of air, still jittery from the suffocated feel of so many people. “But thank goddess we’re out of that tunnel. I couldn‘t breathe.”

“Gods, I know.”

“I was afraid we were going to hit a stop in the tunnel and just be crammed in there till we ran out of air.”

“So, are we waiting?”

“Yeah.” I nodded in the dark. “Just for a short while. See if we can find the others.”

“Commander Laidea.”

“Yeah.” I admitted.

Numerous groups streamed by, flooding into the forked tunnels. After countless people, Saratiese and I still hadn’t spotted Laidea, or anyone else from our company, so we decided to venture the middle tunnel. We wandered through the new darkness, hand in hand, with me leading. My stride ambled somewhat off balance, my muscles a bit jellied from so many days chained in the cavern.

Only seeing three people go in before us, and maybe a couple more eyeing this tunnel after us, I realized that not many people had chosen this route. I didn’t say anything to Saratiese about it, but the little twist in my gut made me pray there wasn’t a reason. I’d only been a warrior a mere week of days, at most, and my skills seemed to be off put by this entire quest. Hopefully, if I lived through this experience, it would mold me into a real warrior.

Because just now, I didn’t feel so brave. Or smart. I didn’t want to admit it, and I never would aloud, but that was another reason I had wanted to wait for Commander Laidea. She would know what to do. How to get us out. She was always calm and wise. Courageous. If I couldn’t find her on the outside, I didn’t know what I was going to do. I would go after Queen Perseathea in spite of her absence. I’d walk right into my death, if I had to… but I didn’t favor it.

A brush of cold bristled over me, stinging my attention to fresh cuts. There was no way of knowing just how deep underground we were, but the dropping temperature seemed to be an indication. The further in, the heavier the mist became, and it didn’t take long before my bare feet slurped in ankle deep mud. Alerted, I stopped, palming my amulet as I listened to the darkness. Aside of the distant scuffle of roaming prisoners behind us, another sound came. In front of us.

"Listen…." I whispered. I could hear Saratiese behind me, pulling in her breath to still it. Taking in the silence.

"A river?” Her voice hitched up. “That should lead us out."

"I hope so."

I started back into the moist blanket of black, tracking through the mud after the sound of water until, at long last, it echoed all around us. Booming. Loud and crashing. Misting my skin with a chill.

"Can you see anything yet?" Saratiese shouted over the noise.

"Not yet." I kept a steady pace, slurping the mud and reaching into the cold black for guidance. The deafening whoosh of the hidden river roared into my ears like a three headed beast. In this underworld hell I felt unnerved and off guard to begin with, and by this point would be unsurprised if some such dragon did lurk ahead.

The smell of damp mold hung heavy, blending with the sweet aroma of an underground river waiting somewhere up ahead. A cold drop hit my hand. Then another. I looked up to see nothing but the familiar black that covered everything in this place. Then, as if an invisible force swept under my knees, my foot slipped up, dropping me in the mud like a rock.

Still holding onto Saratiese, I yanked her down with me. Before either of us could say a word, we were slithering down a muddy slope. Slow at first, the decline didn’t seem to be dangerous, until I realized it wasn’t just a short slope. It was the beginning of a water channel. A sharply descending channel.

The taste of mud spattered over me as I sped deeper into the drenching black. Cold water streamed over me like a nighttime downpour as I struggled to hold on to Saratiese’s hand. But I felt myself starting to pull away. The momentum tugged at me, gravity pulling, straining our tight knuckled grip. I still couldn’t see the girl, and knew from my own screaming that I couldn’t hear her. All I had of Saratiese was her hand.

I gritted my teeth, straining to hold her, but I could feel Saratiese’s fingers pulling loose. The steep black became steeper and my hand snapped loose. Long, frightening moments passed with me waving frantic hands at the wet dark. Until something toppled into me with a breath taking slam.

"Sara!" I choked out, grabbing a hold of the girl before she streamed past.

A hard rush of cold flooded my feet, jerking me around a turn. We were being pulled into the main stream. The tunnel before had merely been a smaller torrent leading into this heavy flow. Water surged in this larger tunnel, ripping around curved walls and tossing me about. Saratiese slid from my hands. Again. Hurling from side to side, my body flailed around like a fish caught up in a wet and muddy whirlwind. Flung onto my belly with a hard splash, I was now sliding face first through the dark. The water gushed, coursing into my mouth. Down my throat. Choking me. Forcing my head under to rumble the rough current past my ears. Then, a blinding white assaulted me, glaring so bright it shattered my sight. I pinched my eyes shut against the light. The tunnel dropped out from me.

Chapter 39

I screamed. The tunnel vanished. In a burst, my own voice came back to me in a wrap of cold wind. I clawed at the air, falling, as a river of dark water raced up at me. My mind came alive with questions, my heart wild with panic.

The water below knotted with protruding rocks so mammoth they looked like a herd of hippos, hippos certain to bludgeon any soft flesh plummeting into their rock hard backs. This fall would bust me into bloody pieces. Even if I cleared the boulders, what about caiman? Piranha? Sookurie? Or… some beast I’d never known before?

Time ran out. I slapped against the water as if I’d hit solid ground. My breath knocked from my chest and burned up my nose. I surged deep under the murky waves. The coldness sucked me down like a thousand hands groping my body. I opened my eyes. Swarthy, dismal green. I floundered, suffocating in the cold and bottomless river. Muffled screams trickled up around my ears and I wrestled, the water heaving down on top of me. Struggling. Straining. My chest burned, the air in my lungs begging to escape, but I held it, knowing the moment I set it free I would not make it to the surface. Salty water seeped into my mouth and stung my eyes. I stared up, longing for the distant surface. Air escaped my lips in a rush of bubbles. I heaved up, arms burning, exhausted. Fighting. Weakness squeezing into me, sucking my energy, draining my spirit. No matter how hard I swam, the surface loomed above. Unreachable.

The cold water pulled me sideways in its’ forceful current, nature gloating at my feeble swim. My chest felt like it was going to explode. I unwillingly gasped in, choking on more water. Swallowing it. I coughed out bubbles, sucking more water into my lungs. Disorientated, I was no longer sure which way was up. The current toppled me in its’ arctic dead womb, confusing my sight. My strength retreating, I pushed myself through the driving waters. Swimming and swimming. Pushing toward what I hoped was up.

And my hand broke the surface, a chilling breeze stinging my fingers as my head bobbed up after. I grunted in frenzied breaths, choking still. Coughing and spitting out lungfuls of water. Wading. I fought for breath, the raging river dragging me down course. The sound of the rushing river bounced back and forth between the cave walls creating a thunderous roar. I fought the currents, waves crashing into the surrounding boulders, spraying a mist over my head as I sped passed them.

"Sara!" I screamed in between gargles, unable to see much with the water splashing in my face. The murky waters assaulted, walloping into my eyes, my ears, my mouth. I thrashed in circles, barely keeping my head above water, the ruthless rapids drawing me further.

"Askca!" A faint scream shot across the water.

I looked in the direction of her voice. "Sara-" Water rushed my lips, gorging into my mouth again. I spat out the salty water, coughing. "Sara!"

I looked up to find Saratiese lying belly down on a boulder, stretching out a branch. "Grab hold!"

I pushed against the current, fighting to nestle myself in between the two hippos without being busted up by the combination of crashing waves. Hand slipping to grab a sharp crevasse in the stone, I planted my bare feet, jarring my knees, swiping at the branch.

"I… I cant!" I stuttered, the water slapping into my mouth.

"You have to!" Saratiese stared down on me with wild eyes, her wet hair clinging to her face.

I brawled against the rapids to keep myself wedged in between the rocks, my feet pushing, but constantly slipping in the gooey moss. I sparred closer, caught up in the constant swirl, my arms burning against the flow. Reaching up, I strained every muscle, my fingers grazing the branch. It plucked from my touch. Wrestling back, my legs felt like they were heavy and on fire.

The branch hovered just above me. I batted at it three more times before catching hold, my fingers blaring white against the branch. A sudden gush caught me up, slamming me into the rock. Bursting the air from my lungs. Bruising pain like lightening through my shoulder. I dropped my mouth, aching for breath.

“Askca!”

The sound of my name stirred me, but I couldn’t respond. I just held to the branch. White knuckled it. Praying to the goddess that breath would come back to me.

“Huuh….” The gargled sigh pulled deep into me, searching my lungs for air. “Huuh….”

“Don’t let go!” Saratiese held tight to the branch, my body weight now scratching it down her palms.

The only good thing about the waves shoving against my chest was that it kept me wedged between the rocks. It bought me time to find my breath, and slowly… it fought back into my chest. Nervous to scare it off by sucking in too fast, I drew the shallow breaths in slow, deeper, then deeper still, until my lungs once again filled with air.

“Askca! Are you alright?”

I tilted my head into the rock, staring up at Saratiese, blood trickling her palms. The branch still firmly in her grasp.

“Yeah.” I said in a weighty breath, followed up by a more readable nod.

"Hold on."

I nodded again, realizing at its’ mention that the branch was tucked vertically between my ribs and elbow with my hand clenched so tight that my fingernails were digging into its’ barkless wood. With my back forced into the boulder, I decided to chance lifting my other hand. The water rushed, swirling and sloshing into my face. Tugging at my legs. Grabbing the branch with both hands, a sudden swell pushed into me, dragging me sideways across the rock. Slipping my tight hold on the branch. The current kept on, dragging me partway around the boulder. Water lapped over the branch as I held it, trying to claw back up slippery splinters as they scratched into my shredded palms.

Saratiese tried to haul me back, my knuckles whitening into a tighter clench. She heaved me back in between the rocks, her blood trickling down onto my upturned face. I held on, trying to maneuver my feet into the mossy dimples of the rock. Trying to push up. But the river refused, yanking me back down at every foot of progress. Sucking me under its’ dark water. Choking me again. Filling my stomach with so much water it bloated. Bobbing me back up to wallop me in the face with another surge of slapping waves.

“Grab my hand!” Saratiese groaned out, the strain obvious in her voice.

I looked back up at her purpled face. Holding the branch with only one hand now, her arm shook in exertion to hold my weight. She reached out her free hand.

Fearful of letting loose of the branch, I forced myself to swing an apprehensive hand up. Saratiese clasped hold, and I grappled at her with my other hand. With that, the branch snapped loose, vanishing down the river. Even through the crash of the water, I could hear Saratiese grunting and wrenching to heave me up. My arms ached, my shoulders hurting like they might pop loose of their sockets. I fought to turn myself around, twisting and writhing in the dangle till I managed the turn. Sliding against the slick moss, I labored, ambling partway up. But my hands were slipping.

"I’m losing you!" I yelled, fear tensing my chest.

Gritting her jaw, Saratiese bruised her elbows into the boulder, digging her fingernails into my hands. I wedged my toes into another dimple in the rock, lunging my body forward, Saratiese scrambling backward. My knees bruised against the stone as I skirted my way up and onto my belly. Safe out of the water, I sunk into the rock, breathing in deep relief. Saratiese loosened her grasp on me, leaving my hands full of nail cuts and warming blood. We rested atop the cold boulder, silent and recovering.

An echo of screams cut into my ears. Saratiese and I both sat up, searching the water. In all the chaos, our ears had only just now taken in the surrounding screams. Several people swept by us, caught up in the black waters. They shrieked past, flailing and choking in the current. Then, goodly paces beyond where we sat, the screams cut off. Far beyond where we took refuge, a bend turned the river and a glint of light snaked back around the corner.

“Do you think the others chose this tunnel?” Saratiese mumbled, sounding fearful of the answer.

“I don’t know.” I swallowed. “What if all the tunnels are like this? Maybe that’s why the Cloaks didn’t chase us in. They knew.”

Saratiese kept her eyes on the bend. “Do you think-”

“Laidea made it?” I finished her words, eyeballing her. “If any of us would make it, it’s her.” I hesitated, choosing to put my mind off it. “Let’s get off this rock.”

Saratiese followed me, both of us searching a path we could venture across the boulders. We leapt from rock to rock, slipping and nearly spilling back into the river several times before we made it to the sandy edge. We took off toward the river bend, keeping our eyes far from the people in the water. The haunting of their screams could not be quelled, instead stabbing into my ears, but I knew there was no time. No chance. I’d barely escaped the river myself. Going back would be suicide.

As we neared the turn, I squinted against the light trying to focus. I held to the wall, slipping around the turn, looking to my feet to be certain I kept in the sand. Being in that dim cavern so long, I hadn’t seen daylight in days. Once around the bend, I felt a mist drizzling my skin. The light was so bright that everything took long moments to emerge. When they did, my mouth dropped.

"Gods…."

Saratiese came up behind me, holding my shoulders till her own eyes focused. We both stared, words hiding from our lips. The mist covered us in a spray of rainbow.

"Gods…” Saratiese repeated, too stricken to speak beyond a few words, “look at that."

“We would have never survived.”

Just a few paces from where we stood, the river tumbled into an immense waterfall with a thousand treetops swaying below. Swerving green hills, dipping valleys, and arching hilltops; an entire jungle stretched out below, touching into a far off horizon. Birds circled the waterfall… below us. Clouds misted before us like a foggy pathway. The river did not appear again until reemerging in the distant land below, looking barely the width of an emerald finger.

“I’ve never been this high up before.” Saratiese said, her eyes never leaving the startling view. “It’s beautiful.”

The colors of sunset were rising, oranges, pinks, and yellows, bathing the entire jungle below in a glow of gold. I edged closer to the waterfall with Saratiese’s arm tucked under my elbow. We both peeked over the edge. The cumbersome waters poured over, tumbling down in a surge of jade and white foam, sending its’ cool spray to sparkle the opening. I peeked around the side, and then took a step back, swallowing.

“What?” Saratiese questioned, most likely feeling the tense in my body.

“We can’t go back.” I backed away, dropping from her arm to sit in the sand. “And this is the only way out.”

“Askca.” Saratiese looked at me as if I‘d just suggested we jump. “There’s no way.”

I shrugged, eyeballing the waterfall again. “We can’t go back. The Cloaks will cook us for certain now. We have to climb down.”

“Is that possible?”

“I noticed a path cut into the side of the mountain. Narrow but-”

“Climbing down that slight edge will take us all night… assuming we live through it.”

“So we’d better get going then.” I stood up, observing the setting sun. “Day is fading as we speak.”

Chapter 40

“Askca!”

“Saratiese!”

The relieved shouts met us as we drudged out from the brush and into the light of a fully risen moon. The girls shared their excitement a stone’s throw away from a flickering campfire, too worn to rise and greet us. All but for Hippolyta that is, who met me with a wrist clasp to the elbow. I returned the gesture, gripping the woman at the forearm to corroborate our fellowship.

“I knew you two would make it.” She said.

“Is Laidea here?” I stared passed the warrior, searching.

“By the fire.”

The Commander sat on the other side of the marigold glow, and the moment I saw her relief escaped me.

“You should have expected as much.” Hippolyta put a hand on my shoulder. “The last to leave and still she manages to get down here before the most of us.”

“Yeah well,” Saratiese shrugged, exhausted, “I think we chose the wrong tunnel.” The girl gave me playful eyes.

“So long as you made it.” Hippolyta smiled. “We were starting to get worried, most of all Laidea. Of course, she said nothing of it.”

“Of course not.” Saratiese palmed Hippolyta’s shoulder as she passed, moved by the thought of resting by the fire.

Once we were alone, Hippolyta’s words dropped low, her eyes drifting back to me. “You see all those bodies in the river?”

“Yeah.” I paused, reminded of the screaming. “A couple moments of bad fortune more, and that’d been us.”

Hippolyta leaned into me, but her attention went to the Commander. “Laidea’s calm is powerful now. Disturbingly so. She’s retreated into herself.”

“Her mind is burdened,” I watched Laidea cinching her gear with rigid, unyielding fingers. Her lips pursed tight like a vice, as if she were refusing her anxious thoughts any exit. “Far heavier than ours, I wager.”

“We’ve been waiting here a long while.” Hippolyta kept to a whisper. “Enough time for her to think too much.”

Turning the conversation, I lightened my tone. “How did the rest of you get down anyway?”

“There was no down. We followed the tunnels through till they opened up under the mountain over there.”

I looked to where she pointed. A tunnel loomed a couple paces back, crowded by a clump of bushes. I rolled my eyes.

“Gods…. We went above and beyond picking the wrong tunnel.”

Hippolyta put her arm around me with a squeeze. “Let’s sit, young warrior. Get some rest.”

I agreed, ambling in slow steps. “I need to thank you, Hippolyta.”

“For what?”

“That first battle with those two horsemen. You saved my life.”

“Warrior.” She stopped, coming round to look me in the eye. Her hands felt firm, yet almost maternal, as she palmed my shoulders. “We are sister Amazons. What I did is to be expected.”

A warmth took my heart, and once again, I didn’t feel so alone. I dipped my head to her in respect.

Back at the campfire, the exhausted company lay in near slumber at the Commander’s feet. Laidea sat on a rock, still cinching her gear when Hippolyta and I walked up. I eased down next to Saratiese, resting for the first time in days. Hippolyta sat on the stone next to Laidea. The Commander never looked up, but kept at her cinching, pulling with her teeth to tighten the laces. I watched as she mended one of her axe scabbards. The blades themselves had been lost to the dead meadow and the woman could offer the sheath no weapon, but cinched it just the same. The reflection of the fire danced through her auburn hair as she kept to her silence, seeking her comfort in the laces.

In those moments my heart hurt for Laidea. Now she seemed to be the one who was alone. Even though she was able to calm her features, her pain escaped her eyes. I felt like I needed to say something. Comfort her in someway. But I had no idea what would ease her pain just now. The woman looked like she had been split down the middle, and now, sat only as one half. Missing the other side of her heart. Lost.

Hippolyta, Saratiese, and I kept quite, leaving the Commander to her thoughts and the company to their slumber. Long moments stretched out before Laidea spat out her leather binds.

“You two finally made it.” She mumbled without looking up.

“Barely.” I answered.

She grinned, but said nothing.

Hippolyta hunched down to my ear, keeping her voice low. “She made it out as if that cavern were no more than a child‘s puzzle.”

“We’re without weapons now.” Saratiese spoke up. “And boots.”

“We are.” Laidea agreed, her eyes still fixed on her barren scabbard.

Saratiese eyed the Commander, offering jest. “Boorish of those Cloaks not to return our things on the way out.”

Laidea waited long moments before allowing a slight curve to lift her lips. “Boorish.”

“So what have you decided?” I questioned.

“Staffs.” Hippolyta pointed to the one at her side.

“For now.” Laidea clarified. “We’ve no other choice. We’ll barter in the town just beyond those trees.”

“Town?” Saratiese questioned. “How can you be certain there’s a town?”

Laidea cooled the girl with confident eyes. “There’s a town.”

We kept silent, looking to one another as Laidea’s words settled. If she knew of a town, she had reason. The Commander kept many things hidden. We let it be.

“For now we rest. I’ll take first-” Laidea cut her own words in two, slicing the air with a flat palm, commanding our silence. Moments passed, all four of us with an ear to the wind.

“There.” Laidea rushed in a whisper, then shot to her feet, taking hold of the staff at her side. She white knuckled the rod, creeping toward a line of trees.

Snap! This time we all heard it. Saratiese and I grabbed the nearest branch, following Hippolyta. The trees obscuring the noise were out of the firelight, situated in shadow.

The Commander prowled toward the darkness on light feet. Stopping as still as a stone, she stared into the black limbs. Her eyes narrowed. A moment passed… and she bolted. Swinging her staff, she dropped something off its’ feet.

“Agh!” The something responded.

Laidea lunged deeper into the dark. Hippolyta, Saratiese, and I stood guard behind, waiting.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” The Commander threatened, standing in the leaves with her foot plowing down. Her staff stood ready at its’ throat.

“No, no, please!”

Laidea ripped a young man up by the scruff, planting him on his feet. From the looks of the dark haired boy, he faired about seventeen to twenty cycles in age. The Commander drew out from the trees, pulling the stranger with her. When they cleared the brush, she tossed him to the dirt, whipping her rod to the back of his head before he chanced a move.

“What is it you are called?”

“Maybe he’s one of the prisoners?” Saratiese offered, wide eyed.

“Not this one.” Laidea shook her head. “He doesn’t have the smell of it on him.” She forced her staff harder into the back of his head, taunting him to taste the dirt. “And he was lurking about in the shadows.”

We all stood at the front of the boy, staffs ready. He lifted mysterious blue eyes to me.

“Please. I’m here to help….” His palms begged up from the ground.

“Commander?” Malaia questioned from beside the fire, the rest of the company roused. “Is everything-”

“All is well. Leave us.” Laidea assured, her words solid. The Amazons gave a collective nod, ambling back to the fire, so tired they required little urging. The Commander hissed to the boy under her breath. “I have a few questions for my new friend here.”

With my chest tight, I spoke up. “Commander?”

Laidea kept her staff firm at the young man’s skull. “Leave me with him.”

Without question, the three of us retreated, leaving the woman to her task.

Laidea made certain the entire company was sitting around the fire, out of earshot, before she put her focus back on the young man.

“Why were you sneaking about the bushes?” She bullied, bruising her rod into the boy’s hair. “Trying to spy, I wager.”

“No….” He squirmed, palms still splayed in the dirt. “Please, let me up. I’ll explain.”

“You will explain with your face in the dirt.” Laidea bore the heel of her foot in between his shoulder blades, leaning all her weight in, driving her staff in at the base of his neck. “I know your kind and I know where you come from. Did you think you would kill us in our sleep? Take back an Amazon trophy for your master?”

“No. Please. Listen.” The boy stuttered. “I have no intention of harming you or your women.”

“Such an intention would be laughable coming from a twig as easily snapped as yourself. Do you think me a fool, young soldier?”

“I’m not a soldier, I give you my word!”

“You expect me to believe a liar’s tongue? You may not wear his garb or bare the sun’s wrath on your skin, but you’ve something that boasts much louder.” At her words his fist doubled, trying to hide.

“It’s… it’s not what you think.” He rambled.

“You can’t hide it from me.” Laidea kicked his hand, her rod prying at his palm. “Stretch out your hand. Show me what kind of man you seek to become.”

“No please…” The soldier begged, stifling tears, “please.”

“Open it!”

Defeated, the boy loosened his fingers, revealing his palm. Laidea eyed the crescent burn just below his thumb. The young man brought his arm around, burying his face in his elbow, his body shaking from muffled tears. The Commander drew back, confused, but kept her tone dark.

“You bare his mark. That means you belong to him. Like the half moon belongs to the night. He rules where there is no light. He rules you as well, doesn‘t he?” The young solider kept quite, his head still cradled in his forearm. “Isn’t that the way of it? Gragore’s claim?”

“Yes,” he snorted, wiping his nose on his sleeve as he turned to look up at her, “but I do not wish to serve him!”

Laidea’s eyes narrowed and she lifted her foot from him. She kept her staff aimed and ready. The young man squirmed onto his side, staring up with glassy eyes.

“Gragore and his men stormed my village. They raped our women… my mother.” Tears welled in his voice, and he waited a beat before going on. “He captured our young men. Burned the village. The fires killed everyone he no longer had use for. The elders, women, children… even the infants.”

Laidea eyed the young man as he lay crying in the dust. She let him sob for a moment more, then squared her jaw, putting her rod at his throat. Wary.

“Why should I believe you?”

“You know what I tell you of the warlord is truth. You know of Gragore and you should know why I am here.”

Laidea swallowed, uncertain of what to think of the boy’s claim. She kept her staff at his face. “What is it you mean?”

“The Amazon Queen,” he whispered. “She sent me.”

The mere mention of Perseathea brought warmth pressing at the back of Laidea’s eyes. Her throat. She swallowed it.

“I’ve come with word for you, Laidea of GarTaynia. Please, let me prove myself.”

He knew her name. Laidea thought on this, spinning it over in her mind. Weighing it. The boy’s dark curls dangled in his wide, blue eyes as he looked up at her, and in that moment, he came across as a child to her. A frightened child hungry for approval.

“What is your name?”

“Sae-mond.”

Laidea pressed a methodical foot back over his chest, sinking him onto his back in the dirt. “You armed, Sae-mond?”

“No.” The young man raised his palms again, the crescent burn blaring back up at her.

Laidea gave a suspicious sigh. “Show me this proof of yours.”

Sae-mond nodded, adolescent excitement lighting up his face. “It’s in here.”

He motioned cautiously to the purse at his side, then reaching under the flap, slipped a talisman out. He lifted it to her. Laidea stared at the stone as it dangled from his fingers, urging the tears back down her throat. She slid the amulet from his hand, cupping it in her palm.

“It belongs to-”

“I know who it belongs to. Who sent you?” She questioned again, her eyes still captured by Perseathea’s amulet.

“Your Queen and Bartamius.”

The name pricked at Laidea, like a blade waking her from deep sleep. She slid the amulet around her neck.

“Get up.” She watched him amble to his feet, her staff never slipping. Taking a crude hold of his chin, she forced him to look on her. “Where did you hear that name?”

“Which name?”

She tightened her fingers at his jaw. "Bartamius."

"He's the one who sent me."

“How do I know Gragore didn’t tell you these things to trick me?” Sae-mond squirmed in her grasp as she maneuvered him backward, thudding the back of his head into a tree. “How do I know that you didn’t concoct this heart bleeding tale of your family just to get close to me? To my company. Just so you could lead us into an ambush.”

“That’s why she gave Bartamius the talisman-”

“That doesn’t prove a thing.” Laidea threatened.

“Bartamius sent me. Please believe me. He loves his sisters. His only desire is to save Perseathea and her daughters. He knows of Gragore’s plan. He wishes to help.”

“You know Bartamius is her brother….” The words slipped out under Laidea’s breath, sounding almost foreign to her ears. Bartamius and brother were secrets left near unspoken by the two.

“Yes.” Sae-mond shook his head. “Her twin. Please, bid me speak the message he sent.”

Still skeptical, Laidea let loose of the boy, stepping a pace back.

“How old are you?” She asked, her staff hovering ready.

Sae-mond soothed a hand over his sore jaw. “Eighteen in winters.”

“Are you his soldier?”

“I’m in training for the ranks, but not a Gragorian soldier as of yet.”

“So slow to learn, are you? Or just a coward?” Laidea dropped her staff tip to the dirt, resting. “Gragore would not be wise to send someone so inexperienced to trail me. He knows well that an Amazon would break a yearling like you. Especially an Amazon of my rank.”

“Gragore doesn’t even know my name.” Sae-mond stared at her with anxious eyes, dark curls sweeping his forehead in the breeze. “I’m merely one of his many faceless.”

“You look delicate.” Laidea paused. “Are you certain your capture was to add to his ranks rather than say, to become his cook?”

“He took me at the age of nine.” The boy shrugged. “Maybe he thought there was growth left in me. I will explain it all in Pahll-sus. Lodging and food waits for us there.”

The Commander snapped her staff back up, crushing it against his chest, forcing him back into the tree. “Understand my words, boy. I will let you along with us. For now. You’re young and frail and I can keep you under just one thumb you’re so slight.” She pushed into her rod, cracking against his birdlike bones. “But do not mistake, it would not be wise to feel at ease with me or my company.”

“No.” Sae-mond shrunk back. “You have my word.”

“Good.” Laidea dropped her staff. “Now, come and tell us of this message.”

Chapter 41

We sat in a semi circle. Sae-mond perched on a lonely rock at its head, night’s chirping crickets and buzzing cicadas rising up in his silence, making the boy seem even smaller. He wrung his hands, keeping his palms busy but hidden. Firelight lit up his young features, exposing anxious eyes and scarlet ears. He reminded me of a brave awaiting Allegiance Ceremony, nervousness emanating him like incense.

I wondered why, but only in fleeting moments. My thoughts could scarcely stray my own rigid nerves, the burning in my stomach a constant. Did he know who I was? If so, was he about to reveal me? Laidea and Queen Perseathea had dedicated themselves to these secrets, up unto the point of keeping them from even me. And Palius.

I knew it wouldn’t mean my harm if my fellowship knew. I’d grown closer to these girls than I’d ever expected that night we left GarTaynia. But still, I didn’t know how they’d take it. It meant that for the last sixteen cycles, things were far different than we had believed them to be. Our Queen, one of the heads of the Nation, believed Palius and I to be such a dangerous secret that she had not dared even share it with the sisterhood. Nothing in GarTaynia had been as it seemed.

As Sae-mond stumbled into words, the burning in my stomach turned to a wrenching hot twist. My fear of his mouth had not been simple anxiety, but premonition. He made it into no more than a few words, that is to say, the part where my name came up, before the mocking began.

“Liar!”

“Fool!”

“He speaks untruths!”

“What he claims is treason!”

My friends scoffed at the idea, their words stinging in my ears. I sat quiet, shrinking back. I assumed they would be shocked, but I never expected they’d be offended. My chest went tight, pulling my heart deeper down. Were these words so difficult to swallow? Was I so minor in their eyes that they could not consider such words?

The jeers went on. Not one would believe me to be the Queen’s daughter. I understood them… to a point. I, myself, did not believe just days ago. I still struggled in the thought up unto this very night. But I felt outcast by their insult. They were ready to cut out Sae-mond’s tongue for daring such a claim.

I watched Saratiese, wondering if she would be as quick to pass the information off. She didn’t join in with the other girls. Instead she sat tight lipped, an onlooker, seeming strangely unaffected by the news. I kept my eyes steady on her, hoping she would glance my way, maybe comfort me, but she never did.

My mind strayed from Saratiese when I felt Hippolyta eyeing me. I glanced at the warrior, and in one sweeping moment, I knew. She was suspicious of my silence. I hadn’t said one word since Sae-mond had exposed me. Neither had Laidea. We had both just left the young man to take the brunt, letting the company unleash on him. I sunk back, avoiding Hippolyta.

“Laidea.” Hippolyta spoke up, her scrutiny still pinning me to the rock I sat on. “Is this true… of Askca and Palius?”

The girls dropped quite, everyone looking to the Commander. My stomach knotted like a demonic fetus.

“Yes.” Laidea confirmed, the word solid.

“How could you not tell us?” Kelius asked, her younger sister Tilliandre sitting at her side with the same jaw dropped expression.

“It was too dangerous. Askca herself did not know until that day in the valley.”

“But to not tell us?” Malaia put an insulted palm to her heart. “I am one your closest allies. Your sisterhood.”

“Your friends.” Kelius let the words hang there, heavy.

“Askca is the one they search, isn‘t she?” Hippolyta cut in. “You’ve known all this time and you couldn’t tell anyone? Not even me?”

Laidea paused, rubbing at her neck with an apprehensive palm. I could see it on her face. Guilt. The way she stared back on Hippolyta, letting the silence stretch out between them, it was clear that she cared for her friend. Didn’t want to disappoint her. Had never meant to hurt her. And if I had heard the hurt in Hippolyta’s voice, I knew Laidea had.

“These things are truth.” Laidea addressed all of us, standing up as she did, signaling the end of the conversation. “I have not the time to explain, but only to ask that you try to understand. Queen Perseathea and I had reason.”

The silence hung like an overcast sky, all of us soaking in the Commander’s words. I crossed my arms, shrugging into my shoulders, feeling their permanent mark. I searched the faces of my friends, but none of them looked on me. Every eye was on Laidea.

“Prepare to leave.” She said. “We are going into Pahll-sus tonight. There is lodging and a tavern already paid up. Once we get there, we will learn of the Queen’s plan. As of now, I don‘t think you‘re ready for her words.”

Laidea stepped away from the fire, retreating into the shadows. Leaving us. The company stood unsatisfied by the abrupt end of answers, but prepared to leave just the same. I retreated into my pack, hoping to be left alone.

Hippolyta left the group, following her friend. Not too many paces into the woods, she found Laidea leaning against a tree. Chin dropped, the woman focused on something in her hand. As Hippolyta approached, she realized the object was the Queen’s amulet.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you.” Laidea said, her eyes fixed on the amulet.

“I understand.” Hippolyta pressed a palm into the bark, staring up at the full moon, trying to mean it.

“Perseathea and I… we couldn’t tell anyone.”

“Laidea, I understand.”

“Then we’ll talk in Pahll-sus?”

“We don’t have to.”

Laidea flitted her a sideways glance.

“I mean, not about this.” Hippolyta crossed her arms, leaning into the tree next to her friend. “We’ve other things to discuss.”

Laidea paused. “Alright.”

Hippolyta stood for a moment in the dark, saying nothing. It wasn’t until after Laidea slid the Queen’s amulet back around her neck, dangling it next to her own, that Hippolyta leaned in to whisper.

“But I tell you this, I don’t trust the boy.” Hippolyta said, watching Sae-mond as he sat alone at the fireside.

“Neither do I,” Laidea eyed him as well, “but I do intend to take up a free meal and rest. We will keep vigilant eyes on him. Right now, we‘ve really no other choice.”

Chapter 42

"This place will give you a chance to ease your bones.” Sae-mond led the company down a dark path congested with low hanging branches. “If resting wont do it, a goodly dose of ale will."

Laidea kept her eyes on the young man, but his talk faded into the night, her mind distracted by its own incessant ramble. Seducing her with thoughts of momentary escape. The boy’s notions of ale warming over her woes lingered more than tempting. She ached to lay her burdens down, even if only for a while. She never spoke it, not even to Hippolyta, but her craving for peace had distorted itself into a cruel and taunting adversary. Thoughts of Perseathea, Askca, Palius, Gragore, battles, blood, death… they never ended. Never ceased. She tired of it.

And behind her contrived calm, it tortured her in the secret alcoves of her soul. Since the moment she had learned of the Gregorian army’s approach, there’d been no release. No escape. Not a moment of true calm. Her shoulders bruised under the sense of duty. She kept tired eyes on Sae-mond, but his words kept drifting off. Her eyes wandered beyond him and into the dark trees ahead.

Dots of light peeked back through. Home fires. The cobblestone houses of Pahll-sus appeared just down the hillside in the clearing below. Laidea watched the dapples of flame, hovering like fireflies in the distance. She pondered the families inside those little houses, gathered around cozy fires. The thoughts darted through her head, piercing her heart like a snake bite. How it must be. Life, simply coming and going. Just being. She took a hard breath, shaking her head to throw the thoughts from her mind.

As they neared the tavern, the carefree melody of music and merrymaking bounced up the path to meet them. A smatter of tables lit up under torches, their benches sprawling with patrons already engaged in drink. Sae-mond heaved the tavern door open, revealing a packed room of filthy men, questionable women, and loud, clanging music. As soon as they stood in the doorway, the pungent smell of sweat and soured ale wafted, but the salty sweet aroma of roasting pork followed quick on its’ tail.

"Lokran’s tavern." Sae-mond yelled over the noise as they filed through the door. “Eat and drink your fill.”

Laidea stood at the doorway as her company stepped past. Hippolyta, whose hand had never strayed far from Sae-mond, tarried at his side.

Sae-mond lifted hopeful eyes to the Commander. "I'm certain my message will put you in higher spirits."

Laidea glowered down, prompting the boy to give up his chivalrous door holding and opt instead to walk past her into the tavern.

After Sae-mond drifted into the crowd, Laidea mentally counted her company, now scattered throughout the bar. Their faces burned bright with surprise and amusement, like children excited, yet confused, by a gift they did not understand the workings of. The unadulterated drunkenness and near naked flaunting of the townspeople proved quiet the opposite of their temperate, yet primed, Amazon ways. Amazon culture stood more disciplined. More in control. These people barely stood upright.

Laidea made her way to the barkeep. "Two ales."

A robust, middle aged woman behind the bar complied, pouring the drinks.

Hippolyta leered at Sae-mond as he scrambled to a dim table in the corner like a skittish rabbit.

Laidea leaned into her friend‘s ear. “Got him under your eye?”

“Every moment.”

“Good.”

The thick woman slung two mugs over. “Thanks,” Laidea nodded to the barkeep, then gestured to Sae-mond, “it’s on the boy’s coin.”

The woman raised both eyebrows. “His coin will keep you in drink all night.” She shuffled back a step, smearing her greasy hair away from her eyes.

Laidea shared a suspicious glance with Hippolyta, but then relented to a smile, easing her elbows onto the bar . “Then keep the drink coming.”

“I ‘spose we’re to sit with him.” Hippolyta huffed.

“If we are to hear his message.”

Hippolyta sucked in a mouthful of ale and Laidea followed cue, taking out more than half of her drink.

“You’re not going to guzzle too much?”

“Don’t worry yourself.” Laidea said, slipping off the stool. “Come on.”

Strolling toward the table where Sae-mond sat, drink in hand, Laidea glanced over the crowded room. When she ambled a mere stone’s throw from the young man, she spotted a more suitable table, and cut across the swarm of people. Giving him a passing evil eye, she warned him to stay put. Slumping down in a rickety chair, her heavy sigh escaped. She plopped her new boots up on the table. She had forced Sae-mond to hand them over on the trek to Pahll-sus, seeing that his foot was about the same size and she had fewer concerns with the boy running around like a bare footed child.

“I thought we were sitting with him.” Hippolyta slid into the diagonal chair.

“Changed my mind. I’ll talk with him after I’ve had a chance to rest a bit.”

Hippolyta brought her mug to her lips. “You mean drink a bit.”

“I do.”

Paces away, townsmen beat at drums and plucked clumsy fingers over stringed contraptions, producing a clatter somewhat comparable to music. Laidea leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms with a yawn, just as the plump bar woman wandered by. Laidea motioned to her for more drinks.

"You look tired, Laidea." Hippolyta leaned into the table, resting her forearm in a mysterious, sticky puddle. She recoiled, examining the gooey culprit.

Laidea stared passed her in search of the fresh drink. A different server came dragging her feet through the crowd, their beverages in tow. This girl stood slight, hard lines digging across her forehead. Her cheeks were gaunt and her dark eyes morose. Age wore on her face, making her look much older then she perhaps was. She scowled as she approached, giving hint to her jaded disposition.

Laidea smirked, figuring as much was to be expected from a young woman toiling in such a foul place. The things she must put up with.

The server stopped behind Hippolyta, tottering in a way that gave Laidea the concern that her friend might soon be wearing the drinks. The girl slopped two mugs down with a splash, splattering ale over the wooden table, but avoiding Hippolyta‘s looming soak down.

“Anything else?” She grumbled in a way that suggested she was hoping for a ‘no’.

Laidea swigged down the ale rather than replying.

"Keep the drink coming,” Hippolyta said, “and bring whatever hot food you have."

The server rolled her eyes, then took back through the crowd.

Laidea watched the girl disappear into the people, then shook her head, focusing back on her drink.

"Laidea?"

"Hmm?"

"You look worn."

The Commander put down what little was left of her ale with a sigh. "You look to be no spring blossom yourself, Hippolyta.”

Hippolyta leaned back. “I- Where‘d that come from? I wasn‘t trying-”

“I’m sorry.” Laidea put a reassuring palm on her friend’s hand. “I didn’t mean to bite at you. I’m good. This is nothing a good night’s rest and a full belly won’t cure."

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” Hippolyta paused. “In your soul, Laidea.”

The Commander waved off the comment. “Nyah.”

“You’re a young woman, yet these present travels are digging lines into your face like that of a withered warrior.

“Like that server girl you mean?”

“No.”

“Insults will get you nowhere.”

“Don’t try to change subject, Laidea. I know you. This constant concerning is taking a toll."

Aware that her old friend knew her much too well, Laidea chose not to answer. Hippolyta had always seen through her calm. This time proved to be no exception. She dropped her boots from the table, leaning in to idle a finger through the flame flickering above the half melted candle on the table.

Hippolyta leaned in with a whisper. “It’s not weakness, Commander. We’re all scared.”

Laidea kept her tongue for a moment, shaking her head in disagreement. “But I fear for selfish reasons.”

“Love isn’t selfish.”

“No,” Laidea took a deep breath, “but it is fear, none the less, and it pains far worse than selfish.”

Hippolyta sunk back in her chair. “I know.”

“And,” Laidea popped her knuckles as a gesture to move off such personal words, “I don’t trust the young one over there.”

Hippolyta’s face reddened. “Nor do I.”

“But he’s all we have right now, as much as I hate it.” Laidea took another swig, the gold liquid dribbling a corner of her mouth. Tittering the mug back down, she felt a bit glassy eyed. “I’ll tell you this,” she leaned back in with her own whisper, “if that little bastard is after Askca or Palius, I will kill him.”

“I know.”

“Without hesitation.”

“Agreed. Woe be unto him who scorns a mother.” Hippolyta took her own swig.

“Woe and death. Painful, bloody, slow death.” Laidea growled, the effects of her ale now warming her, loosening her tongue and her reserve. “If anything ever happened to them, Hippolyta I-”

“It won‘t.” The woman interrupted, nervous that Laidea might be leading into a rant. “I’m scared for Herran. She’s only two winters and already I dread the day she will pick up the blade.”

Laidea nodded, covertly sliding Hippolyta’s near full mug over in exchange for her own empty one.

Hippolyta went on. “I dread it, but I also anticipate it. The thought fills me with such pride. And I have to remember that Herran is-”

“Commander?” Sae-mond hovered over.

Laidea sunk back in her chair. “What?”

“Can we speak now?”

"Is there a healer in this village?" She glared up at him as if he‘d asked her nothing.

"Uh… yes.” The boy nodded, a bit off kilter from the response. “A man by the name of Seathar."

"My company needs tending, as well as supplies and weapons. We lost much in that cavern."

"I will make certain you have everything you need. Then you will hear me?”

“Yes.” She gestured at him with a dismissive hand. “Go, go.”

The young man shuffled away.

"It wouldn’t much hurt you to see that healer yourself, Laidea."

The Commander plunked her elbows onto the wobbly table. "What need have I with a healer? I’ve no wounds."

"So you say."

Laidea rolled her eyes. “What is with you? You are Herran’s mother, not mine. I’ve no need for such- I’m a grown woman. A warrior. A Commander, for the sake of the gods.”

"I can see the worry on you." Hippolyta said, refusing to give up the conversation. “What if your mind is clouded? What if your thoughts, your skill, are not as sharp as-”

“Woman,” Laidea held there, her offense clear in such a word. “We’ve laid this to rest.” She looked passed her friend in search of the serving woman again.

The air between them hung intense, and Hippolyta held her tongue for endless moments. The shift of her friend’s eyes from her own made guilt come up Laidea’s throat. She hadn’t meant to snap, but such words of doubt need not be spoken to a Commander. Not because they bare insult, but because they carry doubts to the Commander’s mind. She needed to feel strong resolve now, not fear. None the less, her friend only concerned herself with Laidea on a personal level. On a level of friendship. And that was nothing to be offended by.

“Look Hippolyta… I'm not going to drop where I stand."

Hippolyta came back to life. “And if you do?"

“Stop acting as if I might. All the relaxing I need is in another mug."

Hippolyta folded her arms, sinking back in her chair. Laidea noticed the discontent sweep across her friend’s face again. It reminded her of Sae-mond telling the company of Askca. Hippolyta had the same hurt in her eyes then. Laidea took a deep breath, scanning the tavern to be certain her words would not be overheard.

“It’s time I tell you what I couldn’t tell you before.”

Hippolyta straightened her posture, leaning back in. Laidea took another glance around. The skinny bar servant was making her way back over with a jug in each hand. Laidea held her tongue as the girl plopped the ale down in front of them.

“If you have need for any more ale-”

“There will be need.” Laidea confirmed. The girl retreated with a sneer.

“You don’t have to do this, Laidea-”

“I never wanted to keep it from you. It’s time you know.”

Chapter 43

Rubbing at the last of the dwindling tension in her forehead, Laidea tried to think of where to begin. She’d revealed so much in these last few days, and hadn’t even broke the surface yet. The secret went back far beyond Askca, before Perseathea, and the warm tingle of ale pulsating through Laidea’s body, though relaxing, didn’t do much to focus her mind.

Keeping her words low, Laidea leaned in to palm the table edge, and filled Hippolyta in on the last thirty cycles of Gragore’s violent quest for the consecrated. She told how this chosen child would be born of the blood and of it’s fire. An Amazon. That the child would rise up to a path of its’ own choosing, becoming a savior of the Amazon Nation, or its’ destroyer. She carried deep into the story of Perseathea’s mother Bria, and how the consecrated would descend from her bloodline. And after an hour’s time, she revealed the last of what she knew to Hippolyta, explaining exactly why she believed Gragore had brought war to GarTaynia.

Afterward, Hippolyta leaned back in her chair, silent, her face plagued by thought. Laidea dropped her gaze back down to the candle between them, most of its’ wax now melted and pooling at it‘s base, stretching waxy fingers across the table.

“Since the moment Askca was born, Perseathea has feared this day…” Laidea nailed a stiff finger into the table, “what is happening right now. Gragore holds more than our lives in his hands, Hippolyta. He holds fate, and he will stop at nothing to get what he wants.”

Hippolyta straightened her posture, ignited back into the conversation. “What if he is unable to capture Askca?”

“He will come for Palius.”

“And if he can not capture her?”

“He will kill Perseathea.” Laidea stared up from the candle. “That’s his bargaining chip. Askca for Perseathea.”

“What do we need to do to stop him?”

“We can’t. Three generations have been powerless to stop him. His army is too great and too vast now. They cover many lands, not just our own, and they are growing. Gragore gets what he wants… and he wants Askca.”

“That’s what I don’t understand.” Hippolyta cast a cautious glance around the tavern, making certain their words were private. “That day of the battles, why didn’t he capture Askca then? Instead of Queen Perseathea?”

Laidea shrugged. “I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense to me either. All I can reason now is that he wants us to come to him.”

“So we give him what he wants? We walk Askca right up to his front door?”

“It could be her destiny.”

“Laidea,” Hippolyta hesitated, a sound of skepticism in her voice, “I don’t know if that’s the best idea. Why can’t we hide Askca or-”

“She was hidden.” Laidea cut in.

Of course she wanted to hide Askca. Her and Perseathea both did. That is what they had tried to do from the beginning. But now, everything was catching up. Their daughter was now exposed. Gragore knew who Askca was. Where she was. It was just a matter of time before the young warrior would face him… one way or another. At least this way, Laidea could be there with the girl. Protect her. This fated meeting would be on Amazon terms.

Laidea didn’t know exactly how it would happen. Yes, her company was heading straight into Gragorian territory, right up to the warlord’s fortress door. But she had no intention of announcing their arrival. Her actual hope was to sneak in and rescue Perseathea unnoticed, as impossible as that sounded. If she could get in and out of that fortress unseen, and back to GarTaynia safe with Perseathea, her plan was to bring war to Gragore. Storm the entire Amazon Nation down on him. Obliterate his army once and for all, Perseathea and Askca at her side. That is not to say, that if she got the chance to assassinate Gragore while in the fortress that she wouldn’t take it. She would.

It did plague her mind though, wondering just how the warlord had found Askca out. And did he know of Palius yet? Gragore had his ways of getting information, but it pitted in Laidea’s stomach, not knowing exactly who had sold Askca out. Who else could know the secret? And how did they know when the young warrior did not even know herself?

“Laidea,” Hippolyta interrupted the woman’s thoughts, “I’ve worried for you, and now knowing all of this, I see why you carry such burden.”

Laidea leaned back in her chair, keeping her eyes from her friend. “Gragore has Perseathea.”

Hippolyta palmed Laidea’s rigid hand. “I know.”

“If I don’t get to her….” She closed her eyes, taking in a slow breath. “That’s the dark truth of this, Hippolyta. All of this, it won’t end. It can’t. Not until Gragore is dead.” She leaned in, her hand pulling from her friend’s, her fist turning white. “And if I lose Perseathea, or those girls…. If Gragore succeeds in producing the consecrated, he will rise to the highest known power in the land, Hippolyta. He will destroy the Amazon Nation.”

Chapter 44

“Girls.”

Sae-mond swaggered up to our table, his dark curls bouncing in his eyes. As he pulled a chair up next to Saratiese, I felt my skin go hot, irritation spreading like a rash across my neck. Something in the tone of his voice bothered me. He said ‘girls’ as if singing the word. Between his greasy grin and lanky frame, he looked like a snake in a tunic. I didn’t like him.

“I’ve just summoned the healer if you have need. He’s on his way now.”

I took a swallow of mead, uninterested. Saratiese nodded to him in acknowledgement, but also opted for another sip rather than replying.

“This tavern makes a marvelous feast of foods.” The snake went on. “Get whatever you desire. Bartamius gave me plenty of coin.”

“We already ate.” I said, not bothering to look up at him. I instead put my attention on the noisy crowd, hoping he would go away.

“The moment we came in the door.” Saratiese said. “I couldn’t wait a moment longer after those caverns.”

I eyed the girl, imploring her not to go into needless chatter with Sae-mond. If she did, he’d stay, and that was the last thing I wanted. But, Saratiese failed to notice my petitioning look, which prompted Sae-mond to scoot in beside her, taking her banter as an invitation.

“I’d wager you went hungry for days down there.”

“Oh gods,” Saratiese pulled up into posture, happy to share details. “You have no idea. Nearly starved.”

“You look a bit gaunt.” Sae-mond looked Saratiese over, his hungry expression suggesting she looked anything but gaunt.

I rolled my eyes. “This coming from one of the thinnest men I’ve ever been witness to. She looks gaunt?”

“By the time we got here,” Saratiese prattled on, “I could have eaten you had you been put to flame properly.”

I curled my lip, repulsed by the comment. Unfortunately, I concoct a mental image of anything mentioned… whether I want to or not. I knew what Sae-mond was thinking and that’s where my mental image went, much against my will. Had I actually envisioned the boy being food, say, a headless piece of bony chicken, it would not have been bothersome.

Sae-mond put a hand through his dark curls, licking his lips. “We can arrange such an adventure. If you’re up to it.”

Saratiese’s face contorted and she edged away. “That’s not what I meant.”

My skin felt like it might crawl off my body when Sae-mond spoke. I didn’t like him before Lokran’s, but I couldn’t quite figure why. Maybe I felt exposed around him since he had known my secret. Maybe I didn’t know if I could trust him yet. Whatever the reason before, the reason now was his imperial strutting. And his greasy grin. But mostly, I think it was his attempts to woo Saratiese.

“My apologies, dear lady.” His tone dripped out like syrup, and this time, it triggered something in me.

“Lady? That’s it.” I waited, teeth on edge, staring him down. I felt hostile, and I wasn’t even certain why.

“What would you have me call her?”

“She’s a warrior, not your hand maiden.” I pushed out of my chair, leaning my palms into the table, hovering at Sae-mond‘s face. “She’s a warrior! Warr-i-or! Do you not understand?”

The young man stared at me as I eased back into my chair. Saratiese sat silent, her eyes as big as moons, staring into her mug as if she could hide there.

“Why are you so offended, Askca? I was only-”

“I’m offended by your words. They slither out as limp as a dead snake.”

I said it, hoping, begging for a reply. Leaning back in his chair, his eyebrows arched like curious caterpillars, but he didn’t say anything. I took another sip of mead, but after a swallow, I eyed the boy.

“I think it would serve you well to just keep your vulgar tongue to yourself, Sea Pond.”

“It’s Sae-mond.”

“Not anymore it’s not.” I mocked, feeling the heat on my neck spread to my face. “I have no concern for your foolish name. You may have afforded us the coin to eat, but that doesn’t mean you can expect crude compensations, So-long.”

I turned to Saratiese with a snicker, quiet satisfied with my remarks, and plopped back in my chair. I didn’t know if it was the mead or just my lack of patience this far into the quest, but I was feeling bold.

“Ask a… question.” Saemond mocked under his breath, begging everything in me to punch him in his mouth.

“What?” The word cut out from my lips like a blade.

“What is it, Askca? Why do you scorn me?”

“You really need a reason?” I asked, dumbfounded by his attempt at confrontation. I hadn’t exactly come across as pleasant with him so far, and I clearly didn’t care for him. Why he would encourage me into a further war of words was beyond me. It only served to rile me more, and if this were to come to blows, well… the boy was as sturdy as a soggy pond reed.

He squared his jaw. “Tell me why.”

“There are so many reasons….”

He tapped the table with an impatient finger as I tallied in my head. “What?”

“What what?” I dug back. I had my reasons. I had plenty of reasons. But some of them I was not about to admit in front of Saratiese. “I don‘t have to explain anything to you.”

He must have took that as me backing down, because he puffed out his chest, leaning into the table like a gloating bullfrog on the attack.

“I afforded you the coin to eat, drink, and have-”

“You’ve afforded nothing!” I pounded a fist into the table, surprising even myself. Saratiese kept quiet, her eyes still on her ale as if it was her shield of defense.

Sae-mond, realizing that he was pushing me into a very aggressive place, and that he couldn’t fight his way out of a potato sack, sunk back, crossing his arms.

“I’ve done nothing?” He murmured without making eye contact.

“Not for me.” I took another drink of my rapidly disappearing mead.

“Oh really?”

Unable to believe he was bowing up again, I cocked my head. Staring at him. Daring him. “Oh really.”

Sae-mond slinked an elbow up on the table, pointing a stained finger in my face. Undoubtedly, he had been drinking as well. Too much too, I’d wager, by his suicidal actions. “Heed me, Askca. If you think you can-”

“Did I not just tell you?” I cut him off, feeling as though my patience were no longer shortened, but had left the tavern altogether. Even with my hazy brain there were things I was not about to say in front of Saratiese, no matter how far his goading went. “I have more important things on my mind than quarreling with you.”

Sae-mond stared at me with a blink, as if I had at once confused and offended him.

“I am going for another drink.” I pushed up from the table. “That is, if it’s alright with you… Sea-Fawn.”

Sae-mond cursed me under his breath.

I made my way through the mesh of sweaty, drunk people, in search of the ever vanishing barkeep. When I got to the hectic bar, I then noticed the large bellied server deep in the crowd. Leaning into the bar, I gave an aggravated sigh. A shriveled old man tottered out from the back room carrying a plate of hot meats. His brown spotted hands shook as he offered the plate to the oily looking fellow seated next to me. After taking the man’s coin, the old man looked to me with a squint.

“Whatta ye want?”

“Jug of mead.”

He nodded his balding head, wobbling away. I turned back to the crowd, leaning back against the bar on my elbows. Kelius and Malaia sat with Saratiese now, and Sae-mond looked to attempt jesting with the women, but none of them seemed to notice. The three were instead laughing with one another, Saratiese, of course, the most red faced of the bunch. I felt a slight twinge of jealousy. At least it’s not Sae-mond and… why do I care?

I snickered at myself, surprised by my reaction. I turned to see if the rickety old man had returned with my drink yet, but he still tinkered off in the kitchen, most likely confused in his old age. I turned back, watching Saratiese. Now some strange village man hung over her shoulder. He looked to be inviting her to dance. Jealousy panged again.

“She won’t go with him.” I said under my breath, realizing I was trying to reassure myself. I shrugged it off. Probably just the mead.

Chapter 45

“We will stop him, Laidea. We will.” Hippolyta tried to calm the Commander. “But what I don’t understand is how he knows of the consecrated anyway?”

Laidea took in a long breath, her head warm and her words fuzzy. It had already been such a long day. But every word had to be spoken. Understood. And Hippolyta was her most trusted companion after Perseathea.

“Gragore has traveled the lands since his youth. He’s quested after the consecrated for countless cycles, planting his seed in most every female he has encountered. He and his men have raped hundreds, if not thousands of women. They travel over many lands, pillaging and raping, making a name for the warlord Gragore. Once they’ve conquered far into the east hills, cycles later they sweep back, returning to the women they defiled. Seizing the male children. The boys are brought up in Gragore’s ranks to multiply his army. Create loyalty. Female children are sometimes left behind so in cycles to come, he can come back and pollute them as well. But more often, they are slaughtered.”

“Gragore’s army is of his own seed?”

“A goodly portion… or that of his men. A smaller portion is there for the coin and plunder. The power Gragore promises.”

“A bastard army.” Hippolyta let the phrase hang there.

“Gragore is the great and wicked defiler.”

“But how did he find Queen Perseathea?”

“I don‘t know.” Laidea shook her head. “After the last battle of Qkuose, Bria took Perseathea and traveled the new lands until she found another Amazon sisterhood. No one knows for certain how Gragore found her, but when he did he killed Bria and took off into the night with her daughter. Perseathea was just a child at the time, no older than Palius. She was a child slave until the age of bearing. That’s when his seed was forced upon her. Gragore took her till her belly held his child.”

“Askca.” Hippolyta said under her breath. “Perseathea had no choice but to try to escape. She was with her first child, a sacred thing. If she didn’t run, her child was damned. If it were male, Gragore would corrupt and abuse it, twist him into a thing of evil. If it were female he would most certainly butcher it. So she ran, knowing her child would be better off dead in her belly than alive in Gragore’s hands.”

“Why Bria’s bloodline?”

“It is believed that Bria was blessed by the Goddess. She stood the only one left alive of her sisterhood after the last battle of Qkuose. Her sisters lay dead, mingled among the bodies of the entire enemy force. They say

the gods favored her because she alone was left, the only one to live through a massacre of thousands. It is said that the child to descend from Bria’s blood, must also carry this blessing.”

“The blessing of invincibility.”

“The highest of all powers.” Laidea took a deep swallow from her mug.

“Gods Laidea, you’ve known these things for how long now?”

“Since that day I met Perseathea in the jungle. The day Askca was born.”

“And you’ve told no one until now?”

“No one but my sister Balena, the day we gave Askca to her.”

“But Palius was raised by the tribe’s mother.”

“We told the council that we found her, but Palius believes that her mother was a brave warrior who died giving birth to her. We wanted her to know that her mother loved her… even if we couldn’t tell her who her mother truly was. That’s why I had to come on this quest, even if Perseathea is… dead. I have to protect Palius and Askca.”

“That’s why you defended Palius that first night.” Hippolyta said, connecting things in her head.

“She has a rite to fight in her mother’s name. She could be the consecrated. I have to watch over them, Hippolyta. They may not have come from my womb, but they come from my heart. I was destined to love them just the same.”

Hippolyta stared for a moment, then tipped a look inside Laidea’s empty mug. “It’s a wonder what this ale does for you.”

“What?”

“You’re never this… open.” Hippolyta cracked a smile. “I like it.”

“I don’t.” Laidea poured another mug, then took a swig.

“Queen Perseathea, Askca, and Palius… they will return home with us. They will.”

“They have been kept from me their whole lives, Hippolyta.” Laidea slurred. “They could be taken away forever.”

Hippolyta took the woman‘s hand. “It won’t happen. I will die first.”

Chapter 46

“Here ye are, missy.”

I took the jug from the shaky old man before anymore mead could splash onto the bar. When I turned back to the crowd I was pleased to see most of the company sitting at my table. The girls were engaged in conversation, belly laughing and eating, drinks all around. Making my way back through the tight crowd, I nuzzled back into my chair next to Saratiese pouring her another drink.

"So as I was saying,” Valasca shouted in a slur, “my hands were trembling and I-"

"And what did the healer say of those hands?" Laidea cut the brave off.

"They will heal. As for now, they are under numbing herbs.” Valasca shook her hands, staring at them with a glazed look of wonder. “I can’t even feel them.”

The Commander glanced around the table. “Has everyone seen the healer?”

Most of the company gave a collective nod, too consumed by their food to speak.

“And everyone has the supplies they need?”

“There are a few of us left to do that.” Kelius admitted.

Valasca huffed, apparently aggravated that Laidea had interrupted her extraordinary tale. Noticing this, the Commander dipped her head in a playful gesture of respect.

“Go on.”

The brave nodded, re-energized. “Oh. Umm. So then…." She slurred, the ale doing more of the talking than she was. "I had to get the dagger. My hands were pounding. Throbbing- Oh wait." Valasca interrupted herself. “Has everyone seen my hands?”

We all nodded as she displayed the bruises. Again.

“More than once." Kelius chimed in.

"What’s odd is,” the girl went on, “I’m not feeling any pain now."

"I'm certain she's not.” Hippolyta nudged an elbow into Laidea's ribs. "She's had so much drink I’m surprised she isn’t dancing on the table in tribute to those purple hands."

"The night is young." Laidea chuckled, obviously feeling more relaxed than earlier in the evening.

“Oh, oh!” Valasca put her palms up as to stop everyone in their seat. “And if we feel any pain, that lady over there,” she pointed to a loose looking woman at the bar so entangled in her own laughter she fell to one knee and had to be heaved back to her feet by the gruff man next to her, “she told me and Belsiphiny that there were more numbing herbs where those came from and-”

"You spoke to one of the women here?" Malaia interrupted.

"Yeah….” Valasca answered, sounding uncertain.

The elder warriors shared in a condescending giggle, while it was clear by their wide eyed stares that the braves didn’t understood. Saratiese and I giggled along, but secretly I was a bit uncertain what the jest was.

Kelius leaned into the splintery table, whispering to Valasca. "Most women here don’t worry themselves with healing, or any other skill unrelated to the tavern or its men."

Belsiphiny’s sucked in a loud breath. "This is a brothel?"

“A what?” Lathenia asked, causing Laidea to nearly choke on her ale.

"Of course it‘s a brothel.” Malaia replied. “Have none of you thought to look around?"

All the braves glanced the place over, including Lathenia, who appeared lost on what to look for. I glanced about too, but tried to remain inconspicuous. With all my badgering Sae-mond, I hadn’t stopped to eyeball the locals. I doubted Saratiese had either.

"I was watching Askca bicker with Sae-mond,” Tilliandre added as if she read my mind, “I didn’t much look at the other people.”

I shot the brave a hot glare.

"Valasca! What happened?" Belsiphiny interrupted the brothel discussion, unable to take any more suspense. Her fervor drew Valasca right back into the tale, and into yet another display of bruised hands.

I looked around the tavern, but didn’t see Sae-mond anywhere. Laidea probably had him off on another errand. Part of me believed that she was keeping him busy because she was afraid to hear his message. Or to believe it. I didn’t know which. But either way, the tavern was doing us all some good. We hadn’t had a chance to catch our breath since leaving GarTaynia, and the ale seemed to be casting a magic spell over our moral.

I looked around the table at my friends, all engrossed in Valasca’s epic tale as if they hadn’t been witness to the whole thing. Laughing and drinking, they carried on, talking over each other and indulging Valasca. Another glance around the tavern’s noisy crowd still didn’t turn up Sae-mond, which honestly made me happy. If I wanted time alone with Saratiese, I knew I’d better take it now. I didn’t have any idea if we’d have another free moment and the quest would only get more dangerous from here.

“I need some air.” I nudged Saratiese. She nodded, and we slipped away from the table.

“Should they go?” Hippolyta leaned into Laidea‘s shoulder. “I thought Sae-mond was about to give his message.”

Laidea took another swallow of ale. “Sae-mond left.”

“Left?”

“Yeah… said he had coin left over for more weapons.”

“Oh.” Hippolyta said in suspicious tone.

“I know, but I’m not nervous. If he were planning to pull something, now would not be the time. Too many people in here. Too many big, burly drunk ogres just waiting for an excuse to lay into such a petite man.”

“Just for the fun of it.” Hippolyta agreed. “I think half the company is leery of him anyway. If he brought more soldiers in here, well… our girls have enough drink in them to feel no pain.”

I took Saratiese by the hand, zigzagging through the lawless tavern as the music and ale flowed over me in warm waves. We stumbled across the dirt floor until reaching the doorway, then jutted to the outdoor tables. The cool night air hit me in a tingle and I sighed, sinking into the refreshing sensation.

"Too hot in there.” I said, pulling at my leathers to fan my chest. “Had to catch my breath."

"Yeah.” Saratiese slid sprawled fingers through her dark, sweaty hair. “Me too.”

I stared on her for a moment, captivated by her autumn hair as it danced across her shoulders, her blue eyes glittering in the fall of night. But as soon as she caught me I glanced to my feet. Sara had a way of doing that. Of stealing me away from the moment. Of pulling me out of mid-thought. She had always been noticeably beautiful, but sometimes I felt bowled over by it, as if I had only just realized it for the first time.

“You alright?” She asked.

“Want to go for a walk?”

Saratiese agreed and we began a lazy stroll up the winding path.

“Gods….” She stopped partway, gazing up at the starry heavens.

I stopped too, awestruck by the same shimmer. “It’s striking.”

“So peaceful.” She whispered. “I’ve never seen so many.”

“Me neither.” I paused. “Maybe it’s a good omen.”

Once we reached the edge of Pahll-sus, I noticed a grassy slope reaching up into an overlook for the village. I took in a deep breath, wiping my sweaty hands on my leathers.

“You want to go up there?”

“Sure.” She said, hurrying ahead.

We sprinted up the hill, racing as we laughed, heading further out of the glow of Pahll-sus. I scrambled up the last few paces, dropping into the grass next to Saratiese.

“You cheat.”

She grinned at that, and we both stared back up into the gleaming of midnight. This high on the hill the black sky was aglow with even more stars twinkling under the shine of a full moon.

“It’s so quite up here.” I hugged my knees into my chest, the warm breeze sweeping through my hair, cooling me. My heart pounding.

“Askca?”

“Hm?”

“What’s going to happen when we get back?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are things going to be… different?”

“Well,” I shrugged, “I ‘spose that depends on how fate plays out. As far as Masseeia, I-”

“No.” Saratiese broke in softly. “I mean, between us.”

My heart leapt into my throat, stealing away any words.

Saratiese went on.

“I just, I need to know because so much has happened on this quest. I can’t go back to the way things were.”

“I can’t….” With my heart trembling, my words left me again. I struggled to breath. Dropping my eyes to the grass I felt Saratiese lean into my shoulder.

“You can’t what?”

The words warmed over my ear on the girl’s breath, sending my heart to pound even faster.

I swallowed. “I can’t go back either.”

She pulled from my shoulder, looking at me. I watched her lips curve into a relieved smile. I waited there, my hands still sweating. Quivering.

“I’m sorry, Askca. For all the-”

“No.” I whispered. “None of that matters anymore.”

Her smile faded. “But I’m just… I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“You.”

“What?”

“Hating me again. Changing your mind.”

“Sara, I never changed my mind.”

“But… wait. What?”

“I just stopped fighting. You and me, we belong together. It‘s always been that way.”

Under that ocean of stars, I fell silent. Something told me that this was the sort of moment people wait for. A moment I would always hold in my heart, treasure, and never forget. Some moments you never know how much you want, how much you need, until you‘re in the middle of them.

Seeing the gentleness, the devotion, glowing in Sara’s blue eyes, it struck me. No one had ever looked at me the way she was looking at me now. She knew me like no one else and it made me feel safe. Our predestined moment carried in on the warm night breeze, and in its’ perfection, I fell into my first kiss.

Chapter 47

“Girls.” The voice jerked me out of the embrace like a splash of ice water to the face. I swung around. Silhouetted by the moonlight, the Commander stood there, staring at us. Saratiese and I froze in the awkward silence.

“Commander?” I muddled out, wringing my hands like they might jump off my arms if I didn‘t keep a constant rub on them. Glancing over at Saratiese, I could see her face turning red, even in the dark. Laidea took the last pace up the hill, letting the uncomfortable silence hang.

“Yeah…” She said in a tone that suggested she were stifling a giggle, “sorry to interrupt.”

Oh gods…. I wanted to dig a hole and jump in it. My own cheeks started burning under embarrassment and I just wanted the Commander to leave. To turn around, walk down the hill, and forget she ever saw me.

“No. Uh, no.” I rambled, not really certain what I was trying to say. Or what I could say. “You didn’t interrupt anything.”

Denial. I guess denial was my plan of action. The moment the Commander cocked an eyebrow, again clearing her throat in an effort not to laugh, I realized my plan wasn’t going so well. Which made me blush even more, thus completing the circle of failure. Saratiese, of course, had apparently been struck mute and was of no help whatsoever.

“Sae-mond is about do deliver the message.”

“Yes, Commander.” I bobbed my head anxiously, still trying to pretend as if nothing had happened.

“Good.” Laidea said. “I’ll see you two down

there.”

“Yes.” I sputtered, the word shooting out of my mouth by accident.

Not talking when caught doing something seemed to be a problem. The Commander stared at me, making me long to hide in that imaginary hole again, until she relented into a half grin. Turning without a word, she headed back down the slope.

Once back in the tavern, Saratiese and I huddled in around the table with the rest of the company. Most of the crowd had already left, stumbling home to pass into sleep under a drunken fog. Only a handful of the tavern women remained, idling nearby with three intoxicated men, drinking their last round before retiring to their nightly business. The Commander sat between Sae-mond and Hippolyta, fresh ale in hand, a grave look weighing on her face. My embarrassment faded at this, as she was clearly too concerned for the moment to care what she had seen on the hill.

“Out with it then.” She said, and the rest of us went quiet.

Sae-mond looked to the table of Amazons, that same red flush blaring up his neck. “First, I am to tell you that your Queen is alive.”

A relieved sigh carried around our table.

“Gragore is trusting her to his finest chamber. His concubines are tending her.”

“Why would he do that?” Laidea cut in, tone skeptical.

“I don’t know.” Sae-mond shrugged. “Bartamius only informed me of so much. I know she had a bad time of it when she first arrived, but now she is being kept in comfort, alive and well. But most urgent, I am to tell you that Gragore is expecting you. You are walking into a trap.”

Our company exploded into questions and cursing. Laidea lifted a calm hand to us, her face like stone.

“Of course he’s expecting us.” She said. “Why else would he take Queen Perseathea? He wants us to follow her. If you truly are his messenger, tell me something of use.”

“Yes… of course.” Sae-mond said, the rest of us pinning him to the chair with our eyes. “Bartamius has advantage on the inside. He has many aiding him. They are planning a way to get your Queen out of the fortress unseen.”

“Why?” Laidea interrupted again, her tone cold.

Sae-mond shrunk back. “Why?”

“Why would Gragore’s men aid Bartamius?”

“I… I don’t know. I only know what I’ve been told and-”

“And what is it you’ve been told exactly?”

“That I am to leave in the morning and return to the fortress by dusk tomorrow. After I give Bartamius word that your company has made it to Pahll-sus, he will advise me of the current status of the plan. Then I am to return here with word for you.”

“What are we supposed to do in the mean time?” Hippolyta ground her elbows into the table. “We can’t just sit around and wait for-”

“Wait.” Laidea cut her friend off with another raised hand. “You are telling me to bring this journey to a halt?”

Sae-mond glanced apprehensively around the table, hesitant to say. “Just for a couple days. That way you can rest your company, get them fresh.”

Kelius flit eyes to Laidea. “That doesn’t sound like Queen Perseathea, Commander.”

“No,” Malaia shook her head, “it doesn’t.”

The braves gave a collective stare, watching the elder warrior’s exchange doubts.

Laidea crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair with a creak. “I don’t think I believe you, Sae-mond.”

“But-”

“You haven’t told us anything of value.”

“But I-”

“What should we do with him?” I asked, well satisfied at the thought of harming the boy.

“No. Wait. There’s more.” He lifted his palms in surrender. “Please, let me finish.”

“Alright.” Laidea squared her jaw, already looking worn by the conversation. “But you will do well not to waste anymore of my time.”

“I won’t, I won’t….” He shook his head, dark curls springing into his eyes. “One of your warriors, Masseeia-”

Laidea leaned in. “What of her?”

“She is helping Gragore.”

Hippolyta gasped. “What?”

A rush of whispers circled our table and I couldn’t help but feel somewhat vindicated. I knew something was going on with the First Commander. I knew there was a clandestine purpose behind her announcement. But I never expected this. For her to turn against her Amazon name? She was the most committed, most dedicated, most decorated warrior of GarTaynia, under the Queen herself. The thought of it clenched into my chest like a cold hand squeezing my heart.

“No!” Malaia shouted, pounding a fist into the table. “That’s impossible.”

“We know she has a hard heart, but she is a sister.” Kelius looked to Laidea, searching for reassurance in the Commander‘s face. “She would never break her vow.”

“I think he’s telling the truth. At least with that part.” I spoke up. “The First Commander refused to lift a hand in the Queen’s return.” I looked around the table, once again beseeching them the way I had at Assembly. “She wouldn’t even allow us the steed we needed for this quest.”

“It’s true,” Saratiese added, “she tried to convince us that Queen Perseathea was dead.”

The warriors looked to each other in uneasy silence.

“But…” Malaia looked past me to the Commander, “to betray her allegiance?”

“It’s possible.” Laidea let the words settle.

I could see in her eyes that it hurt the Commander to think Masseeia would commit such treason, but I could also see that she believed it. After several silent moments, she turned to Sae-mond.

“What is Masseeia order?”

“To track your company to the fortress.” The boy swallowed. “Deliver you into Gragore’s hands… no matter the cost.”

Mouths dropped all around the table.

“I knew she was a traitor.” The words crawled out of Laidea’s mouth like a cockroach.

“If we get her off our trail,” Kelius began, “she will certainly report it to Gragore. He will send troops out after us.”

“Why would we want to do that?” Valasca asked. “Then we’ll have the First Commander and troops after us.”

“Askca is high priority.” Hippolyta explained. “Gragore wants her at any risk.”

“He’ll send out as many men as it takes,” Laidea added, “meanwhile weakening the numbers at the fortress. Less look outs on the wall-”

“Because they’re looking elsewhere.” Kelius finished the thought.

“Exactly.” Laidea said, flitting eyes back to the Sae-mond. “Is that all?”

“Yes.”

“Alright,” she perked up her posture, “then braves, it’s time you get to the inn. Get some rest.”

The younger girls nodded, pushing up from the table one by one in an intoxicated swagger. After they were gone, Laidea looked to her warriors.

“Gragore’s fortress is only a day’s walk from here and this is likely the last solid sleep offered us. You can drink more ale, but I’d advise sleep.”

The warriors gave a collective nod, pushing up from the table.

“If you need me….” Malaia hovered at Laidea’s side. The Commander answered with a nod. “I know. Thank you.”

The warrior dipped her head, then walked out the tavern door.

“Kelius.” Laidea glanced up at her friend. “You resting with Tilliandre?”

“Yes, Commander.” The woman nodded, giving her black dreads a shake, then turned to leave. Hippolyta stayed place at the Commander’s side as Saratiese and I made our retreat.

“Night girls.” Laidea called after us.

“Night, Commander.” I answered back, my face turning red again as Saratiese nearly ran out the tavern in front of me.

Left with the last two Amazons, Sae-mond arched into a sleepy stretch, and then pushed out of his chair.

“I’m off to a much needed slumber as well then.”

Laidea grabbed the boy by the wrist. “Wait.”

He looked down at her, worry shining in his eyes. “Sit.” She ordered, and Sae-mond slinked back into his chair. Hippolyta put a hand on her friend’s shoulder, already knowing what was about to be asked.

“Commander?” He asked.

Laidea took a breath, seeing no point in hesitation. “Has she been touched yet?”

“Uh…” Sae-mond hesitated, “what do you mean-?”

“I don’t have time for your games. You know what I mean.” Laidea squeezed firm fingers into his wrist. “Gragore has done things in the past.”

Hippolyta caressed her friend’s shoulder, trying to be of comfort as Laidea went on.

“Has he done it again?” Her words hovered stiff in the air.

“No.” Sae-mond shook his black curls. “At least… ” the boy faltered, “not yet.”

Laidea let go, sinking back in her chair, the tension streaming out of her. “Good.”

She lifted a heavy gaze to him. The ale was taking bold effect on her, she could feel it, and somewhere in that warm tingly hum, her emotions were fighting to get out. Climbing up her heart to reach the surface. She felt Hippolyta’s hand kneading her shoulder and she took another breath. “Good. Then go.”

Sae-mond scrambled out of his chair like he couldn‘t get out of the tavern fast enough. As soon as he was gone, Hippolyta brought her hand up to Laidea’s neck, massaging the tight muscles.

“You alright?”

“Yeah.” Laidea groaned, raising her hand to catch the attention of the heavyset server as she passed.

“Gragore won’t touch her, Laidea. Certainly he feels her to be past the age of fresh baring.”

“I don’t think it matters to him.”

The wide woman scuffled up. “What is your need, miss?”

“More ale,” Laidea said. “A lot more ale.”

The server nodded with a yellow smile. “Will ya be requiring’ anymore food?”

“No. Thanks.” Hippolyta shook her head, trying to get rid of the friendly woman.

“That sort of day, eh?” The greasy woman cackled. Laidea raised an eyebrow. “That sort of week.”

The server wiped her fingers in a stained apron. “Then I’ll bring ya two of them jugs.”

Chapter 48

Sae-mond sprinted out of Pahll-sus, staggering into the crackling leaves of the dark forest. As he stumbled through the dark, a thousand trees loomed overhead, webbing back the moon and its’ pale light. A cold sweat gripped his face as he ran, his nerves jumbling in his stomach. Or his ale refusing to settle. He wasn’t certain which, because the haze of ale still kept his pace off balance. Playing tricks on his mind. A chill caught him, raising bumps over his skin. Sucking fear into his chest. The forest had a bitter gale this night, carrying through the gnarled trees with a hiss.

In his blurry eyed visions, Sae-mond saw menacing branches pointing down at him. Accusing him. His anxieties brought regret, guilting him for the ale he’d partaken of. As he sped his wobbled pace, his toe caught under a jagged rock, tumbling the boy into the leaves like a sack of stones.

"Gods!"

He examined the sting of blood on his scraped elbow with a curse. A chilled breeze tussled his hair and he looked up. Bone fingered branches reached into darkness down the misty trail before him. With a swallow, the young man pushed himself back up, shaking the dead leaves from his tunic. The tree mangled path waited. A distant owl sounded, chilling a jump into Sae-mond as he searched out the bird. The wind whisked through the leaves overhead. The woods felt lonely. Quiet.

"Pull yourself together, boy.” A low voice crept out from ahead. A man stepped out from the shadows of a tree, revealing his barrel-chested frame.

Sae-mond straightened his posture. "Lieutenant."

The man approached with an arrogant stride, settling hard eyes on the boy. "Have you followed your order?"

"Yes, Lieutenant. The Amazons are in Pahll-sus now."

"You delivered the message?"

"Yes, sir. Word for word."

"Good." The man leaned a shoulder into a tree, crossing muscular arms. Saying nothing.

"Do I have new orders?"

The older man pulled rigid, leaning down into Sae-mond‘s face. "Hold your tongue until spoken to, boy."

Sae-mond stood silent, well intimidated as the Lieutenant stepped in closer, sniffing over him.

“You drunk?”

"Yes sir but-"

The Lieutenant grabbed a handful of Sae-mond’s hair, backing him into a tree with a skull thud.

"Sir please.” Sae-mond squirmed. “Let me explain."

The man knotted thick fingers into the boy‘s curls, yanking his head back, forcing Sae-mond to lookup at him. "Talk, soldier."

"I… I am drunk sir, but-”

He slammed Sae-mond’s head into the tree again, bringing a grimace of pain to the boy‘s face.

“But, but, it’s only because I was attempting to befriend the Amazons. Gain their trust. Loosen their lips.”

“While ‘loosening their lips’ did it occur to you that your lips might be loosened? That you might compromise Gragore‘s plan!”

“Well, I… I-” Sae-mond stammered, his head stinging, hair ripping from his scalp under the older man‘s heavy grasp. “I wanted them to trust me! I had to prove to them I would let my guard down. So I drank with them, but I told their Commander everything Gragore ordered."

The Lieutenant untwisted his fingers with a grunt, taking a few angry paces before speaking again.

"Of Bartamius?"

"Exactly as you said, sir.”

“And?”

“The Commander woman caught me off guard.”

The Lieutenant turned back around, crossing his sausage arms again. “How?”

“She asked why I would have an allegiance to Bartamius over Gragore."

"And what did you tell her?"

"I made up this great tale of woe." Sae-mond forced a desperate smirk, hoping to convince the Lieutenant. “Of how my family was killed by Gragore’s army.”

The Lieutenant broke into a gruff chuckle. "And she wasn‘t suspicious?"

"She swallowed it.” Sae-mond gave a boastful nod. “I simply tugged at her emotions, especially for her Queen." The Lieutenant put a heavy hand on Sae-mond’s shoulder. "Gragore will be pleased.”

Sae-mond smiled. “You should never have doubted me, sir.”

This revived the older man’s deep chuckle. “With your frail frame, how could I not?”

“Heh, yes sir.”

The Lieutenant‘s face dropped serious as he aimed a finger at Sae-mond. “You may be a small man, but you are a man none the less. With a man’s mind,” he pointed to his head. “Is superior to that of a woman’s. It’s the way of nature. Remember that, boy.”

Sae-mond shook his head. “Yes sir.”

“You need only prick at a woman’s heart and you can crumble her like dirt in your hand.”

“I will remember, sir.”

“Very well then. Now, you need only to keep the Amazons in Pahll-sus tonight.”

“What if they see cause to leave?”

The Lieutenant thumbed his chin stubble. “I will camp my men in these woods one more night. If you have need, lead the Amazons into the ambush early. But if everything continues according to plan, I will meet you when dusk falls on the fortress tomorrow."

"Yes, Lieutenant." Sae-mond saluted as the man turned to leave.

Looking back, the Lieutenant gave a last grin. “Keep yourself alive, boy. At least until you have delivered the Amazons.”

With that, the portly Lieutenant disappeared into the night. Sae-mond stood staring into the black trees, smiling, his mind racing. I will soon deliver the Amazons. Me. Sae-mond the slight! Ha! Then Gragore will reward me handsomely.

Ready to head back into Pahll-sus, Sae-mond turned, a hard fist momentarily blacking his sight. He stumbled backward, clutching at his busted nose. He looked to his hands to find them warm with blood. He looked before him, but saw no one. His breath raced ragged in his chest. A tap came to his shoulder, startling him to twirl around.

“Who were you talking to?” Laidea asked coolly.

“Oh. That was the, I mean,” Sae-mond forced a smile, sniffing the blood back up his nostrils, “a man I planned to barter with.”

Laidea said nothing, instead taking a step toward him. “All the way out here?”

“Uh… yeah.” He stammered, aiming to sound light hearted. “Of course.”

Before he could say another word, the Commander kicked the air from his chest, clobbering the boy onto his back in the dirt. Stomping a heavy boot into his chest, she mashed at his already struggling air. He clasped hands around her boot, gasping, grappling to push it off.

“Trouble breathing?” She mocked.

Sae-mond gave a frantic nod, grimacing in the smother. Laidea pulled her boot back, allowing him to wheeze and claw at his chest.

“Now tell me.” She began again. “Who was that?”

The boy wavered in his reply.

“Alright then.” The Commander sank her boot again, but this time into his throat. “We’ll do it this way.”

“No….” He muffled from behind clenched teeth. “Please.”

She leaned her weight into him. “What?”

Sae-mond clawed at her boot, turning red. Wheezing. “Please.”

She let off, stepping over him as he panted. Leaning back down, she grabbed and handful of his collar, hovering his bleeding nose up even with her own.

“I’m afraid you picked the wrong woman to try to fool, soldier.” She let loose, gravity thudding him back into the dirt.

“But I-”

“Get up.”

Sae-mond wiped the blood from his nose, then turned to his side, pushing up out of the leaves.

Laidea stood in front of him, hands on her hips, waiting. As he stumbled onto his feet, he kept his eyes from her. Silent, he wiped at his nose again, the blood dripping down into the leaves.

“Ready yourself.”

His attention flit up to the Commander. “Wha… why?”

“We are going to settle this. You and I.”

Sae-mond’s eyes went wide and he took a step back, putting his palms up. “What do you mean?”

“I know you were not talking to a merchant.” She began popping her fingers in loud cracks.

“No. I swear-”

Laidea jabbed another quick and heavy fist into his face, busting his lip before he could finish his words.

“That was your last warning.” She advised, rubbing the blood splatter from her knuckles. “I’m not playing games with you anymore.”

“Alright.” He put up another palm to distance himself from her. “I’ll tell you all you need to know, just please, spare my life.”

Laidea shook her head. “That’s all it takes for you? A few jabs?”

“Just please, I can tell you whatever you need.”

“There is nothing you can tell me. I already know all I need to know.” Her tone dropped cold. “You are a spy.”

Sae-mond’s eyes flashed with panic and he kept backing away. “No, please.”

“Sae-mond, are you trying to prick at my emotions? I am a woman after all, so that should work.”

The young man turned to run, but as he did, Laidea kicked him in the back, shoving him face first into the dead leaves. Stepping over him, she squatted, ripping his head up by the hair. Leaning her lips into his ear. “Guess what?”

“No… no please.” His bleeding lip quivered.

“I heard your little plan and most unfortunate for you, I heard what you said about me.” She pried his head back further, protruding his throat. Slipping the dagger from her boot, she slid its’ razor sharp edge lightly over his skin. She could feel his body shaking beneath her, tears shining on his cheeks in the moonlight.

“I would love nothing more than to slit you open like a fresh kill,” Laidea hissed hot into his ear, “but that wouldn’t be as much fun.”

Chapter 49

Sae-mond busted through the door, tossing into a heap on the dusty floorboards, startling the Innkeeper. The elderly man yanked out of his sleep, knocking his tome records to the floor in a flutter of papyrus. A bloody Sae-mond looked up at the old man, purpled bruises swelling on his face, and the Innkeeper sunk out of his chair, hiding behind his desk. A thud of heavy boots thumped across the wooden floor and he peered up, the approaching Amazon turning his eyes to moons.

Laidea stood over the fallen Sae-mond without a word for him or the Innkeeper. There was no need for words. Her cold glare and blood spattered arms were sure to say it all. Attempting to lift himself into a crawl, Sae-mond whimpered out, keeping a tight arm around his ribs. Laidea grabbed him up by the collar, and also the splayed record tome. Gripping it between two fingers and a thumb, she glanced over the Innkeeper’s handwriting, then slid the book over to the old man. He accepted it from his hiding spot behind the desk, then the thud of her boots resumed, sounding with the scuttle of Sae-mond’s feet stumbling after. The Commander lumbered down the long stretch of dark hallway, stopping at the first door, knocking lightly.

"Commander?" Saratiese cracked the door open, still groggy from heavy sleep.

"Are you alone?”

“Um…” she yawned, noticing Sae-mond bleeding under the Commander’s hand. The young man kept his eyes far from her, but even with the hallway darkened by night, she could still hear his blood dripping to the floorboards. Breathing in deep enough, she could smell it.

“Sara?” Laidea asked again.

“No. Askca is with me.”

“I’m calling assembly and I need this room.”

Her grave words roused Saratiese and she stepped aside, slipping back into the dark room as Laidea entered, pulling the door shut behind them. Without hesitation, she flung Sae-mond back to the floor.

Saratiese looked to the woman with inquiring eyes, but asked nothing. This didn’t look like the right time for questions. Laidea pulled the sword from her back, pointing it to where Sae-mond laid in his submissive heap.

“Wake the others.” She said. “We leave tonight."

Saratiese nodded, slipping out of the room.

“Commander?” Awakened by the voices, I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes. “What’s going on?”

Laidea stood in the shadows, her blade posed at Sae-mond’s head.

"We are leaving soon. Get up."

I glanced down at the groveling man curled up in a ball, blood puddling into the floorboards as he quaked. Head down. Silent.

Moments later, the door cracked open, slipping a line of light across into the room. Saratiese slipped in, followed by the rest of our company who filed in in silence, huddling around where Sae-mond knelt on the floor. We looked to one another with questions, a collective shrug of shoulders implying that none of us knew what the young man had done. But it was apparent by his wounds, he must have betrayed us in some way. The Commander had since slid her sword back in its’ scabbard, but kept her steely eyes on Sae-mond, never once looking to us.

I dropped bare feet to the cool, wooden floor, standing next to Saratiese. Laidea made certain the door was securely locked, then stepped back to the head of our circle.

"I’ll waste no time with long words."

Uneasiness chilled into all of us. The Commander’s grave tone stood a forewarning to bad news. A cold breeze crept through the small room, and even the night air seemed to carry a sense of dread.

"Sae-mond is a spy.” Laidea said flatly. “We can trust nothing he has said."

Murmurs sped around our company, everyone of us unsettled and worried. Every eye cutting to Sae-mond. He kept his head tucked under his arms, refusing to look up at anyone.

“So…” Belsiphiny began in a timid voice, “is the Queen-”

“I don’t know.” Laidea cut the brave off. “I don’t know the truth yet, but I intend to learn it.” Laidea swiftly kicked Sae-mond in the ribs, expelling a breathy grunt from the boy to punctuate her remark. “Hippolyta, take the company to your room.”

“Yes, Commander.” Hippolyta stepped to the door, ushering the girls out.

“I will come for you when I’m done here.” Laidea growled, bending over to grab Sae-mond up again.

Hippolyta nodded, promptly pulling the door shut.

Chapter 50

Not a full candle mark’s time melted before Laidea departed the room, splattered in stripes of blood. It caked red in her arm hairs. Coated her hands. Dirtied under her fingernails. And the moment she stepped into Hippolyta’s room, I could smell it on her. I wasn’t certain if she had beaten Sae-mond to death, but considering the Commander‘s mood, I made my own silent assumption. Not even Hippolyta dared mention it as our company left the Inn that night.

Laidea led us silent down the dusty path, heading back out of Pahll-sus and into the dark of dead woods. About a hundred paces deep, surrounded on every side by the pines, Laidea stopped. She stood, her back to us, for long moments without a word. Malaia took a step toward the Commander, but Hippolyta grasped her elbow, gesturing against it.

Getting to know Laidea so much over the quest, I knew her mind must be racing underneath her quiet. How crazed she must be over Sae-mond lying to her over the one person she cared most for. And now no one knew if Queen Perseathea was alive or dead. Or worse, beaten to such a place that she would be unrecognizable in appearance and speech. What if she couldn’t walk? Could no longer fight? Defend herself?

I’d seen such things before in GarTaynia, great warriors recovered from long seasons of capture or lengthy battle. They returned home, their bodies cut down and worthless, only fleshy reminders of who they once were. Some were carried back from battle on the shields of the fallen, the spirit of life gone from their arms and legs. Their minds confused as if stirred by a stick, returning them to infancy, unable to speak or understand. Leaving them confused. Childlike.

These things troubled my own thoughts, squeezing my heart until I couldn’t breathe and think on it at the same time. Days had passed on this journey, endless days if spent in torture, and a great possibility loomed that Queen Perseathea had been beaten to the point of her mind escaping her.

The thought of it made me feel guilty. She was doing all of this to protect me. The Gragorian came to GarTaynia for me. Captured our Queen… my blood mother, for me. And knowing this sunk guilt into my stomach like a cold and heavy stone.

When Laidea did turn to face us, her lips held tight, reminding me of the stoic images carved into our Temple walls. Etches of great warriors long past, bruised and beaten, but refusing to fall. Still and solid, I could see her searching out the right words again, just like the day we spoke in the valley. Words didn’t come easily to Laidea, and even with her courage, she seemed to fall weak under heartfelt expression. The woman kept such secret pain inside herself.

I’d tried many times too, refusing to speak my pain, hoping that would deem it unreal. My mother Balena always taught me that if I would recognize illusion for illusion, it would melt away, like ice on a river stone warmed by the sun. A lie’s survival is dependant on my mistaking it for the truth. But, I’d yet to master this Amazon psalm, always too blinded by my heart to truly discriminate. I imagined Laidea struggled just this same way, the real battlefield inside her mind, never easing, never slowing. And the burden showed heavy in her eyes.

“What do you need us to do?” Hippolyta broke the silence for Laidea, her question proving how well she could read the Commander’s face.

Laidea lifted her chin. “We have to kill all of them… but one.”

Chapter 51

On light and soundless feet, we kept a covert pace until the smoky scent of fire wafted over. The Commander motioned the braves into a sentinel of trees, and as they retreated, we warriors pulled our arrows. Stepping into the thick of dead woods, Laidea led us, bows pulled taut. The men came into view, a group of soldiers indulging in drink around a campfire. At a count of twelve, they doubled our number. That meant all but one us would pick out two men. With a silent discussion of glances, it was decided that Laidea would claim only one target, and then hurry her position as the rest of us took our second kill.

The Commander scrutinized the men, deciding the leader. Once she targeted him, she gestured to us, and we spread out into line, pulling bows back up. I eyed the medium built soldier with red hair, aiming my arrow for his throat. Waiting for him to drop the wine skins from his bearded lips. Waiting for the Commander’s signal.

And a twig snapped behind me. A bolt like ice shot under my skin. Kelius, Saratiese, and I looked over our shoulders. I could see nothing in this dark behind us, it being especially offset by the bright flicker of campfire ahead. I glanced to Kelius and Saratiese with a shrug, then brought my attention back. All twelve soldiers were now staring directly into our location.

Don’t move! Laidea’s eyes bulged the warning. So with bows stretched tight, all six of us stood as still as stone. Hearts pounding. The men spoke in a guarded whisper, eyes still pinning the trees where we hid. My breath hastened fast. Racing in and out. Drying my throat. As the parch tickled up my throat, I begged myself not to cough.

A middle-aged soldier hefted to his feet, his black eyes studying the trees. Laidea glanced down our line. Stay your place. More mumbles circulated from the campfire as the man lumbered around to take a closer look.

Snap! Hippolyta flit a look over her shoulder, my eyes quick after. A deer grazed about forty steps back. I sighed a slight breath of relief. We weren’t being surrounded. Yet. But as soon as I turned back to the campfire, my chest tightened. The stocky soldier was approaching me. Twenty paces and he would cross our line. I sucked in a breath. Holding it. He was the only soldier Laidea had decided not to kill.

Fifteen paces. The Commander looked down our line, pressing us still with her eyes. Keeping us in place. Don’t run. Don’t shoot. I pulled my bow tighter, my fingers tips trembling with cold sweat. I didn’t know whether to target the approaching leader or the two men I’d been appointed.

Ten paces. The itch climbed back into my throat. Tickling. Torturing. And then… the soldier halted. Peering into our dark trees. Looking right at me. His eyes hunted, their whites glaring in the night before me. Taunting the cough crawling around in my throat. He took a cautious step in the dry leaves. Then another. Crunching. Crackling.

Five paces. His hand snaked down to the sword at his hip. The soldiers around the fire lifted to their feet, hovering a hand at their own weapons. Waiting for his word. The man now stood so close I could smell the smoky aroma of pork emanating his stained tunic. Hear his cumbersome breathing, burdened under his heavy frame.

And my cough forced out.

“Kuhff.” I tried to muffle it behind tight lips, but defiant, it pried out.

“Get them!”

The burly soldier shouted, drawing his sword and darting right for me. The band of soldiers sprung from around the campfire in a clatter of noise, pulling their blades. I sprinted a few paces to my left, avoiding the hefty soldier’s charge. Hiding behind a tree.

Laidea bolted to the right. Hippolyta snapped her first arrow free. Then Malaia. And Kelius. Saratiese plucked off her first shot. I shifted around the tree, whizzing my first arrow through the throat of my red headed target.

The other soldiers cursed out, scattering as the chosen six dropped. On their knees in the dirt, the fallen clutched confused fingers at the stabbing arrows, throats bleeding them out.

We scattered, pulling second arrows. Laidea sprinted, hopping a log and tackling into the middle-aged soldier, toppling him into a heavy heap. Five more arrows plucked free, as the two wrestled in the dead leaves before us. Shrieks pierced the night, and the last of the men dropped. Panicked. Gargling. Bleeding out of their necks until the last breath abandoned them.

I peered out from my newest hiding place, a crackly refuse of stiff underbrush. A stone’s throw from the campfire, Laidea pinned her captive, her sword point drawing a dribble of blood from this last soldier’s throat.

“Are you of highest rank?”

The scarlet faced man looked up at her with disdain, spitting into her face. This only brought Laidea to lift into a half sprawl, digging her boots in the dust, and pressuring the sharp edged tip into the man’s already laden breath.

“I asked you a question.”

“I am Lieutenant.” He heaved out in a heavy breath, the delicate skin of his throat breaking slowly under her sword point. “You witch.”

Laidea leaned back, pulling her blade to rest heavy at the man’s collar bone. Smearing the spit from her cheek with a stiff forearm, she cocked an eyebrow, then gently pushed her iron tip back into its’ skewer on his neck. Slicing the skin wider. Pushing blood up around her silver point.

“This will happen quick or slow.”

The Lieutenant gritted his teeth, straining a darker scarlet. “Not by your hand, Amazon witch.”

Laidea pulled up into posture again, easing her sword out of his neck. He sprung up at this, but froze as her blade snuck up his nostril. She pushed the point partway up his nose, urging him back into compliancy. Blood dribbled his nostril, trickling red under her bright blade.

“I am not a witch, but I am a destroyer.” She said, her words calm. Solid. “Look on me long, soldier. I am the one who will take your last breath.” She smiled. “As if it were a trophy.”

“Because I am a man?” He scoffed, his voice distorted by the blade up his nose.

“No.” She sliced up further, methodically splitting the skin. The cartilage. “Because you have kinship with the king of destruction. The rapist of a nation. A lord of murder.”

The soldier gritted out, holding his breath under the dice of his nostril, blood draining his upper lip, oozing into his mouth. Laidea leaned into him, hovering close.

“I do not kill good men, Lieutenant. I kill Gragore’s men. And Gragore has Queen Perseathea of GarTaynia. That puts you in a lot of danger.”

The Lieutenant gave a sideways glance to the eleven men lying dead on the forest floor around him.

“And, you sent that little yearling of a man Sae-mond to lie to me. Which tempts me to pick at your brain with this blade right now.” Laidea went on, easing her sword tip up into the tighter recesses of his nose. Slicing slowly. Drawing out the pain.

“It was you who told him to manipulate my emotions, wasn’t it? Told him he stood superior to a woman? Right?”

The Lieutenant held his tongue, instead tensing his jaw and grounding out moans of pain. His eyes stared up at the Commander glassy, and she could see in him that he knew she could very easily cut into his brain this way. The tinged smell of his blood caught the night breeze as it dripped his chin, encouraging her. Reminding her of Sae-mond’s lies. Of Gragore. But mostly, reminding her of Perseathea.

“But your words were unfair, weren’t they? Because you did not warn the boy of the challenge an Amazon would pose, mush less a small company of our warriors. We are not like your women.”

“The boy was never intended to live.” The man spat out in grunts. “Only to lead you to us.”

Laidea slipped her blade out of his nose, but shifted it quick to his other nostril. Hovering the bloody point just on the inside. Begging him to move.

“But now your men are dead and no one else is coming for you this night.”

“What do you want?”

“You know what I want.” The Commander dropped a heavy gaze to the soldier, leaning back into him. Face to face. “I want you to tell me everything. Do that, and I will show you mercy. If you do not, I will cut your brain out piece by piece, and I will make certain you feel every slash and nick.”

After the Lieutenant confessed, Laidea honored her word, and with one swift slice, cut him ear to ear, bleeding him quick into the dark rest.

Chapter 52

Dead leaves rustled in the night wind, clacking the tree branches like bones. A low fog slithered before of me and I took in a cold breath. This was my life now. Everything before this quest seemed as if it had been left somewhere far behind. GarTaynia, my Allegiance Ceremony, the battles… all of it seemed to have happened a hundred years ago. All that existed now… black trees, skulking fog, and a full moon. And knowing, fearing, what lay just beyond it.

I’d pretended to be brave this far into our journey, but I did so feeling like a liar. I knew what was expected of a warrior and I tried to duplicate that with my actions, but in my heart, I felt like a coward. If anyone truly knew me, could see me on the inside, they would know just how scared I was. Maybe they could see my fear. My guilt.

I wanted, needed, to be a brave warrior. An Amazon. It’s all I’d ever wanted. But I struggled with the child hidden within my spirit. I needed my mother Balena, missed her deeply. But, I’m a woman of sixteen summers. Even if I am afraid, that means nothing more than I have to do it afraid.

Just beyond the tangle of dead trees, and the ocean of brittle grass after, a gray beast loomed before me. More a mountain than a fortress, it towered, a mammoth monster of mortar and rock stretching into the black sky. Uncountable torches lined the walls, flickering like hellish jewels in the night, casting an eerie glow over the citadel. Soldiers paced those walls like a procession of fire ants, dwarfed in the shadows of the gray devil stone.

“Stay the plan. ” Laidea whispered. “At any cost.”

We nodded without a word, severing our group into the two smaller companies we’d discussed after the Lieutenant’s confession. I stood at one end, glancing down the row to Saratiese standing on the other. We were in separate groups, and neither of us felt comfortable with it. I forced a smile anyway, trying to signal to her with my eyes. Trying to assure her.

The field swayed to and fro in the brisk breeze, only a whisper above my trembling breath. I led my company back into the trees we had just emerged, settled, and watched Saratiese disappear deeper into the meadow. I watched until I could see her no longer. Then, the waiting began with the wind rising through the grass and the torches crackling on the walls.

As time tarried, I had no idea how long I’d been waiting, only that it felt like forever. My chest tightened. Laidea’s company had made no sign of the plan. I knelt in the dry pine needles, an elbow propped on my knee as I watched the field. My company, Valasca, Malaia, Kelius, and Tilliandre crouched beside me. All of us waited under the same tense silence.

Then, one lone flame glowed up in the grass on the distant right side of the fortress. Not a breath later, another glow climbed up on the far left. Diminutive licks of flame began dotting the field, soon breeding into strips of fire, bursting into a blaze.

The orange glow ripped across the dry grass, prompting the men on the walls to trickle down to battle the flames. The signal. We headed across the field, keeping low, staying under the cover of grass. I shifted my eyes to the wall. No soldiers noticed my company or Laidea’s, but instead ran about, combating the fires eating up their dead field.

With the heat rising, sweat made a path down my forehead as I kept pace. The trees we needed to reach were still more than halfway across the field. Ten paces more and I stopped. A group of soldiers huddled in a circle just a few short paces from where we crouched. The men oddly sounded like the fires were no more than a jest to them. Soon enough, their low voices and sputtered laughs denoted their intoxication.

Burrowing my chin into my cloak, I slowed my breathing, chest burning in the billows of smoke. Glancing back to my friends, I gestured to the drunken men, then to the moon’s position. Time is slipping. Patting Kelius on the shoulder, I then gestured to her young sister, Tilliandre. The warrior glanced to Tilliandre, then back over the grass to the soldiers. After a few moments, she let out a burdened sigh, then nodded in agreement. I summoned Tilliandre with my finger.

At twelve winters, Tilliandre was one of the youngest braves on the quest. She framed so small, with skin such a dark sable, that she blended well into the night. The girl crawled over to me light, making no sound. I made a motion to my sword, then pointed to the soldiers. With wide eyes, she glanced to her sister Kelius for approval, and in getting it, disappeared into the blades.

Tilliandre snuck around to the opposite side of the soldiers. Lifting, she eased up into her full posture, angling her eyes just over the swaying blade tips. After the soldiers proved several more moments of clumsy movement and jesting, Tilliandre sunk back down to her knees, crawling toward the group of men. Knees scraping the dirt without a sound, the brave barely moved the grass shrouding her.

Nearing the deep voices, she held her breath. Her stare trailed up the closest soldier’s back, focusing on his helmet. A dull black, the helmet included thick slips of leather that hung down over the man’s ears. If he noticed her touch, that helmet would jerk. Biting her bottom lip, Tilliandre floated an elfin hand up to his sword. Grazing fingers over the course leather of its’ scabbard, she flitted her attention up to his helmet. The black iron moved in nod to his conversation, but he seemed unaware of her presence just behind him.

Drifting eyes back down to his sword, she slipped her other hand under the overlap of his armor, sliding cautious fingers along the strap. Reaching for the buckle. Working both sets of fingers, the brave manipulated the strap, but her shaking hands fumbled there, unable to pull the snug strap loose. And his helmet jerked.

Tillliandre’s hands froze around the man’s waist. A booming laugh hit the air, and a jiggle moved the soldier’s stomach, then he settled back into his stance. Letting out a slow breath, the brave moved her fingers back to the buckle. With sweat trickling into her dark eyes, the leather at last loosened, sliding out clear. Arms shaking, she concentrated, begging the belt not to slip his hip. Sliding the belt from his middle, little by little, she steadied the scabbard into her small hands. Creeping back a pace, she stared down at her sweaty palms, the sheathed sword shaking there.

Waiting, I watched the fires heating up the night, my sweaty forehead cooling only in the brisk breeze. My heart was in my throat. I couldn’t stop thinking about Saratiese and worrying if she was safe. As if sensing that, a soft hand settled on my shoulder, and Valasca crouched down next to me. I could see it in her eyes. The brave’s expressions were always loud and she hid nothing with this one. The soldiers block our path. What do we do if Tilliandre doesn’t return?

I gave my friend a reassuring glance, then took her hand, examining the plum colored bruises. Valasca winced under the touch, but wiggled her thumbs, smiling.

Malaia reached around Valasca, tapping my shoulder, then pointed to the field. Snaking back through the grass came Tilliandre. The girl’s thick, black tresses bobbed above her head as she crept, her hands brimmed by five sword belts. The brave laid the swords in front of me, and we all began strapping the weapons on.

My heart pounded as I stepped out, the blades crunching beneath my feet as I led my company to the sharp right of the soldiers. Sneaking by them in a crouch, I could hear the girls right behind me, sucking in sharp breaths and holding them, trying not to cough in the smoke.

"Halt! Halt!" A voice shot out from the wall.

I dropped to my stomach in the grass. My company followed. We laid still as death, holding our breath. Praying.

"Movement off the west wall!”

I didn’t move, hoping desperately to fade into the edge of the black field. A surge of heavy boots trampled toward us. My heart raged in my chest like a storm. Armor clanged in a jangle of sprinting. Several shouts cut into my ears. Gripping my sword, I slid it from my hip. Waiting, I white knuckled the hilt. Gritting my teeth. Primed to jolt up.

"The movement stirred over here!"

The soldier sprinted so nearby that I could hear the grass hiss against his stride. Could hear the scratch in his voice from the smoke. Valasca, Kelius, Tilliandre, and Malaia laid still in the dirt behind me, swords in hand. Smoky tendrils floated the field, burning my eyes, slicking my hand to my hilt with sweat.

The same soldier’s heavy steps dropped slow now, crunching the dry blades as he neared me. I held in shuttering breaths, his torch lighting the grass by my sword. Glinting off my blade. I began counting down to my attack.

1...2...

Chapter 53

“Over here!”

“Get to the gate!”

Shouts ricocheted across the fiery field, summoning a myriad of clangs as several dozen soldiers charged back toward the fortress wall, pulling the torchlight away from me. I stayed my place, letting out the smallest of sighs. Loosening the grip on my hilt, I glanced back to my friends, whose expressions mirrored my own confusion. We eased up to our knees, looking through the fires to the front gate.

Flames lit up the night, revealing a tangle of men brawling in front of the fortress. Behind the flicker and blister of orange, the sight tightened my chest like a vice. Several soldiers yelled and cursed in struggle. Twenty or more men were already involved. Through the swelter, I caught glimpses of Laidea and Saratiese fighting. My heart raced into my throat and I lunged to run.

"No!" Malaia seized me back with a solid hand.

I shook loose. “Laidea told us nothing of this plan!”

“She told us what we needed to know.” Malaia said, her dark eyes trying to assure me. “Leave her to it.”

“Now we have cover.” Kelius hugged Tilliandre to her hip. “Gragore won’t search us out if he thinks he already has us. That’s why she took Lathenia, Belsiphiny, and Kia. To confuse him.”

“He won’t harm any of them if he can‘t figure out which one is ‘you’.” Malaia loosened her grip from my arm. “Once he realizes he doesn’t have you, he will call for a trade. You for the Queen.”

“This buys us time, Askca.” Kelius placed a comforting palm on my back as if I too were her little sister. “And if I’ve learned anything serving under Laidea, it’s that she always knows what she’s doing.”

Malaia gave a half smile. “Especially if it looks like she doesn’t.”

“You just have to trust her.”

I swallowed, feeling unsettled. Blindsided. I knew Laidea planned to light the fires as a distraction, but I had no idea she planned on getting caught. It seems the Commander did not reveal this to me intentionally, and I‘m certain Saratiese knew going in. That explained the girl’s worried look before we split up. If there was one thing I couldn‘t bare, it was being out of control, and of late, that’s the only thing I could rely on. Being out of control.

“Then I should go.” I glanced back to the gate, the scuffle between Laidea‘s company and the men getting louder.

“No.” Kelius tightened her grip on my shoulder. “What good will that do?”

“Kelius, GarTaynia needs Queen Perseathea. The Nation needs her. If I have to trade myself for her, that’s what I’ll do. That’s why we came here. To get her back.”

The shudder in my heart sped up, flitting like a terrified hummingbird, and the heat off the field fires wasn’t the only thing making me sweat. When I’d left GarTaynia just days ago, I hadn’t stopped to think what I planned to do once we found the Queen. Not once. But then, I hadn’t realized so much of what would happen on this quest, that now looking back, it’s like I was walking around in the dark. Nothing’s the same anymore and I didn’t know what to do. Only what I should do.

It‘s not that I wanted to surrender myself to Gragore. The thought of it suffocated me, icing my skin, but it‘s the only thing that made any sense. And as an Amazon warrior, I swore an oath to protect my Queen. To protect GarTaynia. Sadly, what the warlord had said at our last battle stood reasonable. Why trade the lives of a thousand simply to protect me? I didn’t understand it. I couldn’t do that to Queen Perseathea, or to my friends. And I couldn’t do it to Saratiese.

“How can you not see?” I shrugged my shoulders, looking to the two warriors. “What could be my worth in comparison? She is the Queen of our people. I‘m a warrior of but what…? A few days?”

“Do you not witness what the Queen has done to protect you?” Malaia crossed her arms, getting that same glint of agitation that I‘d seen in our own scuffle over keeping guard.

“But why have I never known this? Sensed it? If I am to be-”

“I’m not saying I understand it,” Malaia cut me off, “but I do believe the Queen. I will unto death. And if she believes you could be the Amazon hope, Askca, then I stand by her word. Especially if that means stopping you from endangering Laidea‘s plan.”

“The soldiers are relieving their watch a bit.” Valasca said, grabbing Malaia‘s arm to distract her from me. “They’re mostly consumed with the gate or the fires. We can slide by now.”

I looked past Malaia to Laidea and Hippolyta, standing back to back, fighting. Saratiese huddled the three braves in under her arms, clenching into them as the men worked to rip them from her. I couldn’t stand this. I wanted nothing more than to bust from the trees and rush to Saratiese. The same way I needed water or air, that same thing in me needed to help her. I could feel it coursing my veins. Speeding my heart. Trembling my hands and burning my cheeks. Making me feel like there was an untamed animal on the inside of me clawing to get out. To move. To run. To help.

But I knew Malaia and Kelius were right. The Queen had never led us in a way that wasn’t absolute truth. If she believed this possibility for me, then it must be truth. And Laidea, she stood as one of the greatest warriors I’d ever known, and she was my Commander. Who was I to thwart her plan? Kelius was right. I had to trust Laidea, no matter how bad my own flesh hurt to move.

“I can slide by.” I corrected.

Valasca’s eyes flashed to me with concern. “But-”

“She’s right.” Malaia interrupted the brave, surprising me. I looked to the woman, questioning.

“Kelius and I will cover you. But do not go near Laidea’s company and do not get yourself caught.” The woman’s words were firm.

“Once Gragore figures it out…” Kelius pulled Tilliandre back under her arm almost as if it were her subconscious effort to protect me, “…once he realizes he doesn’t have the Amazon he seeks, that fortress is the last place he’ll expect to find you.”

“Don’t do anything stupid.” Malaia warned me again, her eyes steely. Threatening. “Get in there and find Queen Perseathea while Laidea’s is giving you time.”

Chapter 54

At the gate, a horde of men mangled into the Amazons, knotting the women in a sea of black armor. Kia-Maie, Belsiphiny, and Lathenia were snatched up like hatchlings. Hippolyta lunged, cutting down every man daring touch one of the girls, unleashing a howl of red streamed cries at the end of her sword. The braves fled at each break, but only to be plucked up again by a barricade of new soldiers.

Saratiese, Laidea, and Hippolyta stood back to back, each combating two or more soldiers at a time. Their blood tinged swords flashed with the reflection of flames, and men jumbled at their feet, soaking the dead grass red.

Not long after, the numbers overtook the three Amazon warriors, and at the end of it, Laidea, Hippolyta, and Saratiese stood splattered in blood and bound in shackles. The mammoth gate drug open with a grating thunder. In the grip of three soldiers herself, Laidea dared a glance past the fires to the trees, her expression calm. Confidant.

“How many of you does it take to hold just one of us down?" Belsiphiny busted against the two soldiers dragging her in. Kia-Maie and Lathenia kept their eyes to the dirt, not daring any more resistance.

As the company passed under the archway, Saratiese paced in compliance with her captors, silent, studying the mass of carved rock and mortar likening itself to its’ own village. Rows of stables lined the east end, their musky stink of hay and horse manure wafting into the smoky cough of the fires. A blacksmith, a bakery, and living quarters loomed on the north side. Lines of dark pathways snuck behind the edifices and crude cut steps led up the walls. A plethora of mysterious vaults, crypts, and darkened doorways also dotted the gray hamlet. An open yard of dust and dead yellow grass was the center of it all. Saratiese lifted her gaze to the night sky looming over her like an unreachable black shroud, smoke clouding out its’ stars.

"Well, well, well.” Gragore traipsed across the yard. He stopped before the huddle of Amazons, a smoldering smirk lighting his face. “I've been anticipating your arrival. I expected you much earlier."

"Gragore.” The name cr1awled off Laidea‘s tongue like a cockroach and she spit in the dirt at his feet.

"Yes." The warlord dipped his head, as if she had made his introduction. “And you must be hers. Hmm?” He caressed Laidea’s cheek, sliding fingers down to her throat. Gripping into it. His words dropped dark. “So woman, tell me what I want to know.”

Laidea lifted her chin saying nothing. Gragore tightened his hand, bruising over her air, clenching into her as his smile returned.

“Tell me which one of these is Askca.”

“What makes you think Askca is here?" Sarcasm squirmed out with Laidea’s strained words.

Gragore loosened from her throat, combing his hand instead through his raven gray hair, chuckling as if he enjoyed their exchange.

"I know more then you’d would wager, Amazon. For example,” he let his words settle with the cocky tilt of his head “you are Laidea. A Commander of GarTaynia. Second hand unto the Queen. And, I know Askca was summoned to a quest. This quest.”

“How would you know-”

“Your First Commander Masseeia sent word. The only secret you hold from me now is which of these is my daughter.”

Laidea’s jaw tensed at that word daughter, and had she not been shackled and held by three soldiers, she’d have kicked Gragore’s head from his shoulders. Instead, she calmed her words, preferring not to reveal her vulnerability to the warlord’s words.

"I’ll tell you nothing."

The calm dropped from Gragore. Gritting his teeth, he left Laidea, going to the three braves. Eyeing them. Grabbing their chins, one by one, and staring into their eyes.

"None of these match Masseeia’s description.” He growled, pacing. He studied over Lathenia, Belsiphiny, and Kia-Maie, scrutinizing each face.

“These are too young.” He lifted back into posture, turning back to Laidea. “I will give you these last few hours before dawn. At sunrise, if you do not tell me where Askca is, I will butcher these three girls in her place.” The warlord turned to Kia-Maie, cupping the child’s chin. “Then maybe you’ll be more inclined to answer my questions. Take them to the dungeon.”

The soldiers complied, pulling the girls out of the yard.

“And get more men in the field!” Gragore yelled after them. “I want that fire drowned out, now!"

The men nodded and carried on again with their orders.

“Wait.” Gragore put up a quick finger, the tension rapidly draining from of his face, melting him back into a calm demeanor. “Wait, wait, wait. Don’t take them just yet. I almost forgot. I have a surprise.”

The warlord grinned like a young boy eyeing his birthday presents, then snapped his fingers, summoning two new soldiers to the yard.

The men entered the yard, dragging another prisoner, bound at the hands and feet, as well as gagged. The man bled like red spring rain, bruises whelping over his body. The two soldiers tossed him to the ground in a puff of dust at Laidea‘s feet. The Commander looked down on the bludgeoned prisoner, not recognizing him, but with empathy twinging her heart. Tears glassed the his bruised and swollen eyes, but admirably, the prisoner never uttered so much as a whimper to appease his attackers.

Gragore sauntered over, crouching to rip the man up to his feet by the scruff of his blood soaked collar. A series of hoots and jeering circled the soldiers as they taunted the battered man.

“Amazon woman,” Gragore looked on Laidea, the man still dangling in his hold, “when you see Perseathea, tell her Bartamius has been rendered useless to her as of this last eve.”

Laidea’s heart dropped. Bartamius stared at her, his desperate words muffled by his gag, his eyes pleading with her to save his sister.

The warlord tossed the bound man back into the dust, knocking the wind from Bartamius as he hit, coughing and gasping under his gag. The horde of gawking men busted out with laughter.

"Take them away!” Gragore ordered with the flit of his wrist. “And throw this morsel of a man down there with them. He can be a woman as well. At dawn, they all die."

Chapter 55

I shot out of the dark trees. The blistering glow of the fires heated against my skin as I ran, lighting up the night. The field. Making me feel exposed. Midway across, I noted two nearby soldiers. Slowing into a hunch under the grass, I caught my breath. Laying a palm to my chest, the heavy pounding of my heart beat against the cool of my amulet. I wrapped my fingers tight around the green stone.

I will wear this amulet with great pride and respect. I will wear it until it is soaked in my own blood. I will wear it in death… proudly and bravely, as a symbol of my eternal allegiance to you, my Queen.

After the two soldiers left in search of another pail of water, I lunged back into my sprint. Nearing the colossal wall, waves of smoke wafted over me, gusting the musky scent down my throat. I squinted in the gritty burn, holding my breath, not wanting another cough to be my undoing. Glancing to the front gate, my eyes traveled up the towering stone wall. Tilting my head back to take in the full sight of it, it felt as if the fortress stood even with the moon itself. Long rows of torches flickered like distant stars along the top, glimmering up the shadows of a dozen or more soldiers as they paced the lofty wall.

Defeated by the thought of climbing over, I peered back out into the flames eating up the field. Men scattered about, cursing and tossing pails of water, trying desperately to squelch the spreading fire. The gate stood closed now, and still heavily guarded. Every corner of the citadel bustled with movement. I swallowed, striving to think. I’d taken off from the trees without much thought as to what my plan would be once I got here. I hadn’t thought much ahead of getting myself past the soldiers in the field. Forethought was quickly becoming my most obvious flaw, although in my defense, Malaia and Kelius hadn‘t exactly offered any ideas on getting into the fortress. But… in their defense, they probably assumed as a warrior I wouldn’t need the same constant direction as a child. They were wrong.

I crept the grass down the front wall, turning it’s corner. A lone soldier standing in the shadows down the east wall caught my attention. Why wasn’t he battling the fires or guarding the wall? Straining his neck ever so often, it appeared as if he were looking, or waiting, for someone. Like a snake stalking a field mouse, I tread low, keeping steely eyes on the man. As he fidgeted with his armor, I clenched into my sword hilt, sneaking up to his side. He tilted his helmet back on his head. I froze where, I stood not three paces away. Slicking the wet hair from his forehead with a stiff palm, he slid his helmet back into place.

I took a quick glance over my shoulder. Settling into a crouch, I glanced around the field. Most of the soldiers ran in groups of at least twos and threes. Not this man. He stood alone. Fidgeting. This made him perfect.

Leaping, I pummeled into the soldier, slamming us both into the dirt. Putting a quick hand over his mouth, I threatened him with my eyes, my blade sliding over the bob in his neck. He put his palms up in surrender, eyes wide and acquiescent. Pulling back up to my feet, I kept my sword point at his throat, prodding him up and into the cover of trees behind the fortress.

"Lay on your hands!" I managed to shout in a whisper once we were deep into the dark branches. The soldier complied and I settled my boot on his chest, resting the sword point in the curve of his throat.

“I’ll take you in.” The soldier whispered. "I'll show you everything."

I raised an eyebrow. That was a bit too easy, wasn’t it? But the man lay calm beneath my boot without struggle, his hands tucked away just as I‘d instructed. He’d made no effort to fight. Not to run. Not even to shout out to the others. It all seemed a little too suspicious.

"I don’t believe you." I leaned lightly on my blade, pushing just enough to slice his skin, illustrating my point.

"Please, I’m Tythose…” he shuttered out from beneath a trickle of blood, the bob in his throat bouncing as he swallowed, “a friend of Bartamius."

I squared my jaw. “I’ve heard that one before.”

“I can get you in. Unseen. I know where Gragore is keeping the woman. I can take you right to her.”

Keeping my sword steady, I looked around the dark trees, assuring that we were still alone. “Why would you help me?” I asked.

“Not every soldier in the fortress is here by will. Bartamius is my closest companion. He is like a brother to me. If he needs my help, I honor that.”

I pressed my blade in, cutting another trickle of blood from his throat, but without offering any real harm. “Even if it’s your own life you risk?”

“Without hesitation.” The young man’s eyes stayed focused on me, unwavering, and he still offered me no struggle.

“Then tell me this, what is Bartamius’ interest in an Amazon Queen?”

“What?”

“Why is he helping her?”

“Don’t you know?” The man looked up at me as if

he were stunned by my question. “Perseathea is his sister. His twin soul.”

I took in a sharp breath. “Twin?”

“Please. I know you are an Amazon. I’ve been waiting for nights, searching any Amazon who might cross my path.”

“If he is her brother, why would he not help her himself?”

“Gragore has already gotten to him. High ranking soldiers found him talking to the woman, and it was over just like that.”

“Is he dead?” I asked, trying to move on as quickly as possible. Although the information surprised me, I still didn’t know if it were true or not, and so had no plans to dwell on it. My first goal was to get to Queen Perseathea.

“He’s most probably dead. So please, let me pay my friend a last debt.”

I gave a troubled sigh, thinking immediately of Sae-mond. “What is it you are called?”

“Tythose.”

“Alright Tythose,” I stretched out a hand, helping him to his feet. “I will take your word. But heed me well. If you are leading me into a trap, know this, I will kill you before they can gain control of me. I know they won’t kill me, Gragore needs me. I don‘t necessarily need you.” I shoved him back a pace to distance us. “Your life will surely pay for your lies.”

“Take my sword.” He lifted his arms above his head, giving me free range over his weapon.

I took a slow step forward, grabbing the hilt. Sliding his blade free, I took a quick step back, waiting. I’d never seen a soldier submit before, at least not so willing. Not since Sae-mond. And the likes of Gragore’s men, unwilling to his campaign or not, still stirred a pit into my stomach.

“Now you have my blade and my word.” He said.

I tossed his sword a stone’s throw away into some brush, then looked back to him. “Take me in.”

He nodded and I followed, but to my surprise we went deeper into the trees, away from the fortress. Soon the fires were but a glow in the distance, and I could no longer feel its’ heat. Gripping my sword, I felt uncertain of Tythose. I felt uncertain of where he was leading me. But I had no other choice.

“Here.” He halted, pointing to a withered tree trunk. Hunkering into the stump, he drug across the dirt with a scrape. Light beamed up from the hole. He glanced at me, dusting off his hands. "This way."

Stepping down a row of chiseled steps, he lowered into the golden glow. Taking one last look around the dark trees, I followed. Once down the passage, I found myself staring. The walls were cut perfectly smooth. Soft gold sand glinted under the flickering torches, one positioned every five paces. The ceiling reached high, allowing the tallest of men to walk contentedly. Most strange, a scent of wildflowers floated the passage. I slid my finger along the wall as Tythose pulled the stump back over the entrance, blotting out the night sky.

"Gragore spared no coin creating this tunnel." He answered my obvious intrigue, bounding back down the steps.

“I’ve never seen one so lavish.” I said, touching a light finger to the sand wall.

“Gragore desires the best for himself when running away from danger.” Tythose snickered, the tone of his voice implying his distaste for the warlord.

“I can tell.”

Tythose looked down the stretch of hall and into its’ bend. "Wait here.” He dropped his words to a whisper. “I’ll make certain it's clear."

"Oh no.” I grabbed his arm before he took another step. “I’m going with you."

Walking without a word, I followed behind the soldier, down the long passageway, around the bend, dust stirring up in the torchlight as went. The crackling of torches and whistle of wind were the only sounds circulating, until halfway in, when muffled voices pricked into my ears. The inaudible words floated down to us from above ground. We were passing under the fortress wall. But just as I adjusted to the sound, the skin on my arms lifted. A cold breeze had snaked over my shoulder, tightening my every muscle. Freezing me where I stood. I glanced over my shoulder. With that cold breeze came voices. But these were not above us. They were behind us.

I grabbed Tythose’s by the arm, finding his eyes already in a bulge. Snatching my wrist, he whirled his head about in search of refuge, lunging us both into a run.

“Where are we going?” I asked, out of breath.

“I don’t know!”

Not a hundred paces down, he halted. Standing there. Not saying a word. Looking at his feet.

I glared at him, chest heaving. “What are you doing?”

“Get down!”

“What?”

He dropped to his knees, yanking me down with him. He motioned to the rectangular cut at the bottom of the wall.

“What?” I gasped. “We can’t both fit in there!”

“We have no where else to go.”

He shoved to his stomach in the dirt, the voices getting closer by the moment. We had no more than a few seconds before the approaching soldiers would turn the bend and spot us.

“That’s two men, at least.” He warned, his eyes begging me, desperate.

Without another word, he scampered into the crawl space. As far as he was concerned, I was now on my own if I didn’t follow. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw shadows stretching around the bend. I dropped to my stomach, clawing my way into the tight space.

Everything went dark. No light shone in the hole. I squirmed in as far as I could, trying to hide my feet in under the wall. The voices were muffled now, but I could still hear them. Closer than before. I wriggled in tighter. My hair tickled in my stinging eyes. Dust sucked into my mouth, gritting on my tongue. In my teeth. I struggled to breathe, my chin mashed to the ground by the dirt ceiling, squashing me into the dirt like an insect. The darkness suffocated me. My air seemed to be thinning by the moment. And a bruising pain whelped against my hip. I quickly recognizing it to be a shard of Tythose’s armor, but had no way to squirm away from it. There was no room in the rectangular cut hole. Only dirt and darkness.

So I went still. Quite. The voices were nearly on top of us now. I tried to make out the stranger’s words, but soon heard something else. Squeaking. Squealing came to life all around me as fur the size of a fist scurried beside my cheek. That one clawed up my shoulder. Another one wormed in between me and Tythose, fluffing past my hand. I gritted my teeth, knowing what the fluff was. Rats. Everywhere. Clawing and biting at me.

“Listen…” Tythose whispered, giving a long pause. “I think they’re gone.”

At his wriggling, I began worming back also, unable to get out of the cramped dirt fast enough. Emerging the sweaty crawl space, I lifted to my feet, pulling thick strands of dirty hair out of my eyes. Coughing. Dust layered my skin. Tiny points suddenly stabbed across my back. I reached around, clawing, stumbling. Scratching at shoulders. Tythose plucked the rat from me, tossing it to the ground.

“A rat’s nest?” I growled, shaking out my hair. “That’s the best place for us to hide?”

He shrugged, dusting himself off as well. “There was no where else. Rain drips in. That’s where it drains. Rats get in.”

“Come on." I gave Tythose an impatient shove. "We’re losing the cover of night. We have to get to my Queen before sunrise."

Chapter 56

“Get ready.” Tythose side stepped down the wall, his arms outstretched, hands tracing the sand. “At the end of this, there is a dark turn off the main passage. When we take it, there will be one last corner hiding at very least one guard.”

I bit my lip, sliding the wall behind him. Things were about to be set in motion, for good or bad, and since I stood as the object of the hour, I was really hoping for good.

As I neared the turn, Tythose dipped out of sight and into darkness. I followed behind, creeping further into the shadows myself, and as I did, Tythose turned back to me. Putting a palm to hover at my chest. A silent warning. He then pointed to the last turn ahead. I replied with a nod, squeezing hard into my sword hilt. The good or the bad waited just around this last corner. Silent, we crept the last few steps in the dark, stopping at the edge of the turn. Waiting. Feet sinking inn the sand. With our backs to the wall, he eyed me, counting on his fingers. 1...2...3!

He sprung into the hall and I tackled after, both of us lunging into the soldier blocking the darkened doorway. Tythose maneuvered around the guard, clamping a tight forearm over his throat as he drug the man to the ground. I stood over the soldier, sword ready, glancing over my shoulder every other second as Tythose tightened his suffocating grip on the man’s throat, waiting out his fight for a last breath. After what felt like long, drawn out moments, the soldier at last went limp in Tythose’s arms.

Looking up at me, Tythose pressed a finger to his lips. “Shhhh.”

He pulled out from under the dead man, and after glancing over my shoulder one last time, I helped him drag the body to the corner. Pressing his ear to the splintered wood, Tythose held his breath. Listening. I waited too, my heart in my throat, holding my breath as well. Wondering if Queen Perseathea waited just beyond this door. Wondering if she truly was still alive. Wondering still, if this were a trap. I hadn’t known Gragore long, but what I had learned about him I had learned quickly, and I knew it was not beyond the warlord to sacrifice any number of his own men just to get to me.

Grading the heavy door across the sand, Tythose cracked it just wide enough to peek his head in. Silent, he pulled back, stepping away from the door. I stared at him, waiting for an answer. Any sign. Still silent, he pointed to his chest then to the ground, gesturing that he would wait for me here and keep watch.

I slid my blade as a guide into the darkness, so black it looked solid, then took a light step inside. The door slid shut behind me. The room was blacker than midnight. I stood my place, letting my eyes adjust. Trying to stifle the tremble in my sweaty hands. The dark smelled like perfume, like life, and soon, the heavy black gave way to sketchy dark figures. I stared, uncertain of any shape’s name, all except for that of the hanging flowers.

“Who comes?” A whisper floated to me.

I whipped around, my spine tingling as I searched the dark. I clenched my weapon, short breaths heaving my chest. I didn’t know if I should answer. I couldn’t identify the whisper, it had been too faint, and there was still the chance that Tythose had led me into a trap. So I stood like stone, not saying a word.

“Tythose?” The whisper came again.

I whirled to my other side, sword jabbed out. Ready. A silhouette darkened into shape a stone‘s throw away from where I stood. It took a pace toward me, and I turned to meet it with my blade.

"Who speaks?” I sputtered out in warning. A long pause met my question.

“Askca…?” The whisper cracked into a voice I recognized.

“My Queen?” I slid my sword back into its’ sheath, then stretched out my hands, searching. A hug soon rushed me, surprising me. Holding me in tight. And I could tell me the spirals of the woman’s hair, the height of her, that it was Queen Perseathea.

“Oh gods, Askca,” the Queen hurried out in one breath, “you can’t be here. He’ll find you.”

“I know.” I pulled out of the embrace, gripping the Queen‘s shoulders. “We have to get out of here. Now.”

“No.” She stopped me from moving. “You must get to Laidea, Bartamius, and the others first.”

“But my Queen, Laidea did this so I could get to you.”

“Listen to me, Askca. I know what Laidea was thinking. But we have to do things another way.”

“But my Queen-”

“The guards check on me. Often.”

“But we killed the guard at the door.”

“You killed the guard at that door. There are many more posted about and several come to taunt me by the hour.”

“But-”

“Askca, heed me please. There is much you do not know and I do not have the time to tell you. Just do as I order. The soldiers will know you’re here if I am gone. They’ve already figured out you’re not with the girls who were caught. You must get to them first. They should be in the dungeons.”

“But I can’t leave you.” I pleaded, gripping her arms, scared to let her go. I suddenly felt like a scared child clinging to my mother. Afraid to be out of her sight, away from her shelter. The feelings hit me like a sack of rocks. I couldn’t lose another mother. “I can’t leave you, we’ve come all this way. I can’t!”

“Askca,” she pulled me into another embrace, whispering her warm words into my ear, “if you want me to live, you have to.”

“But Gragore-”

“He won‘t kill me. Not yet.” She pulled away to look me in the eye. “Please, just get to the others, then come back for me.”

I stood before her silent, feeling like a child whose pet had died and my mother must lie to comfort me. I knew without doubt that Gragore would kill Queen Perseathea if he realized was in the fortress. I knew it was only in waiting for my arrival that she had been kept alive this long. But, this woman is Queen of GarTaynia, my Queen. I must obey her command. So I surrendered.

“Yes, my Queen.”

"Askca! Soldiers are coming!" Tythose rushed through the door, stretching out his hands to guide himself and stumbled through the dark over to us. "They’re coming up the passage right now!"

"What do we do?" I asked.

"We have to go out the front. My only hope is that they are battling the flames rather than guarding this door." Tythose sprinted to the front door.

“Please.” I turned back to Queen Perseathea, trying one last time. “We've come all this way."

“I’ve come all this way for you and for Palius.” I felt her hand take mine, squeezing it. “He doesn’t want me. He wants you. So be brave, young warrior.”

"Askca,” Tythose warned from the door, “we have to go now!"

Chapter 57

“Go! Now!” Queen Perseathea whispered the warning from the back door. I stared back at the voice in the black, but could no longer see anyone. A new line of light cut through the dark room now, with Tythose peering out of the front door.

“Come on!” He grabbed my hand, busting the door wide open. Bolting us into the morning’s first light, the cold air hit my skin like ice water. We snaked through a maze of alleyways and corridors without stop, darting between stone edifices and a long row of stables. Once behind the bakery, we stopped for breath, the aroma of nut bread sweetening our air.

“Do you think anyone saw us?” I panted, palming my knees.

Tythose smoothed his back into the wall, chest heaving. “I don’t think so….”

“Are we almost to the dungeons?” I asked in ragged breaths, cocking my neck to search every alleyway for nearby soldiers. I could still smell the burn of charred grass hanging on at the end of the sweet breads.

Tythose nodded, his cheeks red with flush. “This way.”

The rising sun colored the morning sky bright pink and orange, glowing down on the alleyways and spilling over the soldiers that paced the yard. The musk of smoke carried over the wall stronger here, bringing with it the hurried voices of men still battling the field flames.

“Oh gods!”

Tythose’s fearful whisper slammed into me as the man bolted to the nearest wall. I followed, slinking down next to him, leaning into a crouch against the mortar. I struggled to calm my smoke infected breath, staring at Tythose in question. He gave me no reply, instead edging to the corner of the edifice. Tipping his head around the edge. Snapping back, he dropped his head back against the mortar, air booming his chest. He definitely saw something.

Crawling passed him, I snuck my own look, and a sting like a thousand needles pricked up my spine. Gragore. The warlord stood but a stone’s throw away from us speaking with a group of soldiers. I jerked back just as quick as Tythose had. Neither of us could make out the mumbles of Gragore’s conversation. I glanced back to Tythose, just in time to see him sneaking another peek of his own.

I kept like stone against the wall, watching Tythose without a blink. He kept his back to me, watching for a goodly moment as my heart battered the inside of tight chest. I slipped up a slow hand, palming my amulet, wincing slightly as my elbow grazed my bound wound.

When Tythose snapped back again, his face paled, gleaming white with sweat. His chest sucked in and out like the bubble on a toad’s throat. I eyed him. What? I mouthed. He said nothing, pressing his back into the stones like he wanted the mortar to suck him inside. What! He wouldn’t respond, only turning whiter by the moment.

I pressed flat against the wall, my own panicked breath now shuddering behind my ribs. I had a distinct feeling that this is where the bad was about to happen. I flitted my eyes about, searching a way of escape. A place to hide. My fingers squeezed into my hilt so hard they were cramping. That’s when Tythose decided to mouth his own silent words to me. He saw me!

My knees buckled, then turned to jelly. Tythose tilted his head back to the wall, knocking it a few times in disgust. I put my eyes to the dirt, listening. A shrill of naying horses. More shouts on the wind. Mumbles of the men in the yard. All of it garbled into my ears, but none of it sounded like orders. Nothing came back to me proving that Gragore had spotted us.

Tythose nudged me in the ribs, tipping his head in gesture toward the corner, signaling that he planned to check for Gragore again. No! I mouthed, blaring darts into him, but disregarding me, the man slid back over to the corner. I gritted my teeth, shouting in my head. Idiot! Let it pass! If Gragore is there, he’ll take your head off! Slow…. Heedful…. Tythose edged toward the corner. I readied myself to run, anticipating the young soldier being clubbed over the head. I eyed the alleyway to my left, away from Tythose, making certain it still stood clear.

“He’s gone.” Tythose snapped his eyes back to me. “Come on!”

We sprinted out again. Another jumble of corridors and alleyways. Past the blacksmith and the living quarters. Tythose halted behind another wall that looked exactly like all the others we’d stopped at. The fortress was beginning to look like a gray maze to me.

“Are we to the dungeons yet?” I questioned.

Tythose peered around another turn, eyeing two soldiers guarding an open doorway. I shoved by him, glaring at the two soldiers.

I studied the darkness beyond the doorway.

“In there?”

“In there.” He confirmed.

I pulled back. “I’ll take the one on the right.”

Tythose nodded, dipping back to study the guards. The two men joked back and forth, rambling on with a group of soldiers some paces down. The guards ambled a good ten paces from their post, lured away by a game of dice.

“Now!” Tythose hissed.

I darted out from the wall, ready to lunge. Confusion struck me when I found no soldiers, but relief soon took its’ place. Shooting into the open doorway, we scampered into the black, hunching down to hide. I looked over the dark room, the glare of light cutting in from the wide open doorway.

“This is the dungeon?” I asked, wondering if Tythose had made a mistake.

“This is one of the old stables Gragore . The dungeon is beneath us. Gragore hollowed out the ground below so that even if a rival made it into the fortress, finding their imprisoned comrades wouldn’t be likely.”

I nodded, confirming the hunch that I faintly smelled horses. Tythose crept the creaking wood, stopping at a mound of hay. “Under here.”

I helped him heap armfuls of straw to the side, keeping a vigil eye on the door.

“Here.” He bent down, grabbing an iron handle. With a quick screech, the trapdoor pulled up from the floor. Tythose shot his eyes back to the doorway. The guards were still out of sight.

Staring into the porthole, a nauseating odor hit me. The sickening sweet stench of decaying flesh twinged up with the ammonia of urine. The reek of vomit and soured sweat hung on at its’ end. I dizzied in the stink. Before me, reaching deep under the stables, loomed a set of winding steps. In the muted glow of dying torches, the gray of the steps distorted into dismal green stone.

Tythose stepped passed me, sinking into the gloom. “We have to hurry.”

I checked the doorway with a last time. The two soldiers stood back at their post, but still distracted in their banter with the other men. I pulled the trap door down with me till it clacked shut, then began my descent down the slimy steps. The place was dank with moss covered walls that flickered the same grayish green as the steps. All other color was lost into the shadows here. My stomach sank the deeper I drifted down the stairwell. My nerves jumbled, curious as to the miseries waiting at the bottom. The steps drizzled in a ruthless cold breeze and the air floated thick and sickening. To live like this… day after day. Forgotten. Starving. Diseased. Bleeding out. I wager they beg for death here-

My thoughts cut off at the moans and crying floating up to my ears. Tythose disappeared around the mossy turn and I squared my jaw, hurrying my pace to reach him. Once around the bend, the breath sucked from my chest. A level of hell spread out before me.

Cells cut into the walls, too many to count. Torture devices clawed up at the center of the chamber, their sharp crimson edges flickering in the low torchlight. A device for stretching, stabbing, burning, drowning… they all stared back at me with jagged teeth and blood stained vomit water. Bones littered the dirt. Long dead bodies hung in shackles in different stages of decomposition, suffocating the air with their pungent cloud. Old blood painted the place in dingy browns. Fresh red pools mirrored dying prisoners, left lying where they had been filleted. Flies flew in swarms, buzzing loud, darting at my face.

“Askca!” Came the strained whisper.

In the furthest cell down the long path, Saratiese stood behind a wooden door peering through a crude little window just big enough to expose her face. I sprinted toward her, Tythose swiping a rusty key from the hook as he followed. He unlocked the cell with fumbling speed. I pulled the door open, running to Saratiese, embracing her. As the company poured out of the darkened cell, I looked to Laidea.

“I found Queen Perseathea, but she wouldn‘t-”

“Come with you. But she is well?”

“Yeah.”

Laidea led the collection of relieved sighs circling the company.

Tythose grabbed my arm. “Let’s get out of here before Gragore finds us.”

“That’s a good idea,” a dark voice crawled out from behind us, “but I don’t think you’re going to make it.”

I whipped around to find Gragore, Masseeia, and Cyrenna, accompanied by several soldiers, blocking the stairwell.

Chapter 58

“That’s her.” The cold words dripped from Masseeia’s lips like poison as she pointed an accusing finger at me. A wide grin swept over Gragore’s plum lips.

I leaned away from the warlord as he slid gentle fingers under my chin, tilting my head up to meet his gaze.

“I’ve searched far and wide for you, young one.”

“You have me.” I said, feeling cornered but trying to sound brave. “Let the others go.”

Masseeia and Cyrenna shared in a bitter cackle.

“Isn’t she the noble daughter?” Cyrenna sneered.

“Yes, Gragore.” Masseeia mocked. “Why don’t you just set them all free for good measure?”

Gragore kept his eyes on me, making no notice of the two women or the heckling soldiers. He instead kept to his unwavering stare, too drawn in by me to look away.

“I don’t believe I can part with your friends,” he said, “but I will take you.” I jerked away from the warlord, but his fingers only detoured to trace down my cheek. He straightened away, motioning to the soldiers.

“Take them back to their cell.” He growled, his voice suddenly cold.

The men trickled around Gragore snatching up the Amazons once again as Masseeia and Cyrenna laughed. Three men hauled into Tythose, spitting on him while cursing his ‘fall to women’ as the others brutalized the Amazons back into their cell, blood busting the whole way back.

I, secured by a group of soldiers, could do nothing but stay frozen in place. My eyes blazing at Gragore. But I kept silent and without struggle. One thought. One hunger. One hate prickled through my skin, surging into a burn…. Kill tanged so thick in my mouth I could taste it. Kill. Gragore.

“I’m bringing you with me.” The warlord turned back to me with his lascivious grin, prompting another hot twinge in my stomach.

“Ten men at the stairwell and another twenty guarding the door up top.”

The men mumbled in agreement, fragmenting into groups. The warlord twisted his dirty fingers into my hair, twirling it like I were a small child, then directed my chin to the cell of Amazons.

“If I were to allow you to choose just one of them to live,” his warm breath scuffed over my ear, “which would it be?”

I nudged away from his hand, refusing him any words as my heart pounded.

“Well?” He persisted. “I am your father. I can do this one thing for you… but you must choose only one.”

I stood in a daze, not knowing whether to believe the warlord or not. Even if I do, how can I pick? Too many things to regard with each of them. Some are children… some have children. Laidea is Commander. Saratiese is- “The sands are running low.” The warlord interrupted my thoughts. “Choose, or I’ll let none of them live.”

Gods, gods, gods!

“Alright,” Gragore snapped, “I condemn all-”

“No!” I rushed. “I choose her!”

I gestured to Saratiese, then mouthed a mournful sorry to my other sisters, dropping my eyes from them quickly.

“I stand in shock.” Masseeia rolled her eyes, nudging Cyrenna in the ribs.

“You heard her.” Gragore motioned. “Loosen the girl.”

Two soldiers complied, bringing Saratiese out of the cell and over to the warlord. I forced rising sobs back down my throat as Saratiese approached, tears glittering in her sad blue eyes.

“You are a pretty thing, aren’t you?” Gragore lapped over Saratiese with his sinful eyes. Turning my stomach. “You know, I might just have a place for you here-”

“No!” I shouted. “You said I could choose one! I choose her!”

“Yes.” The warlord’s face beamed, his crow’s feet creasing the corner of his eyes. “I said choose one to live, not to be free. Besides, you should know by now. You can’t really trust me.”

“But-”

“I’m very unreliable.” Gragore cupped Saratiese’s chin with his hand, now examining her features. “Yes…” he awed at her, “you will do well to rekindle the fires.”

Saratiese pulled away, looking at me. I stared back apologetically, shaking my head. Shrugging my shoulders. Feeling completely like I had doomed her rather than saved her.

Gragore shifted his glance to the two men holding Saratiese. “Take her to the harlot Nahlla.”

The men nodded.

“No!” I kicked out, my legs springing up from under the arms of my captors. “You said you were my father! You said you’d give me this one thing!”

Gragore tilted his head. “Are you jealous? Do not worry, daughter,” his words crawled out sweet, “I’ll still put you first in line.”

Just then, an explosion of glowing blue light illuminated the dungeon. Every eye squinted at the stairwell, hands shielding from its’ blinding pearlescent light. A sapphire beam shot out from the stairwell, surging across the chamber like a blue flamed thunderbolt, hurling the soldiers into the dirt.

Chapter 59

The cold fire blazed passed me, grabbing blue flamed fingers over Saratiese. The soldiers at her side shoved deeper into the dirt, the pulsating force of blue weighing heavy on their backs. When I dared to look up, I saw Saratiese suspended in midair, her face paled and wide eyed. In a daze. She hung limp in the cerulean hold, her feet dangling above the soldier’s heads.

A bitter cold gusted across the chamber, turning my breath into white mist and snuffing out the torches. The dungeon bathed solely in the glow of the blue fire. The cold grew colder and Saratiese languished in the clench of blue mystery over our heads.

Then… the sound of the trapdoor shutting boomed down the stairwell to our ears. Slow footsteps followed. One after another they swept over each step like a whisper. All but Saratiese flit frightened eyes to the stairwell. Every man and Amazon alike felt the cold breath hiding deep within our chests, fearing to show its’ mist. My cold skin itched with energy as the blue bolt burned brighter, lighting the dungeon… awaiting its’ possessor.

Slow, but closer, the footsteps sounded. The blue brightened even more, hurting my eyes. I closed them, moments passing until I felt the bruise lift from my eyelids. I, with the others, dared a squint. The light waned into a soft purple glow. At the steps, stood the Seer. A dark oracle. Despite the violet haze, a stream of fire still blared blue from her outstretched hand, refusing its’ release of Saratiese.

The witch stared over us, her intense black gaze colder than ice water over my skin. She stared through to Saratiese, still tangled in the icy blue flame. Levitating forward, the witch’s footsteps swept through the chamber, though her feet never touched the ground. Her velvet robes, the color of sacrificial blood, slithered the dirt as she came. As she hovered, her malformed and crooked frame exposed under the amethyst glow. Though hunched with age, she still hovered bizarrely tall, skulking over our heads like a venomous serpent. Though she drooped high over us, the ancient hag could weigh no more than a child. Her face sunk in at the bones and glowed gaunt in the purple burn. Her body gnarled over and her skin yellowed thin. Her black flamed eyes never left Saratiese, but rather scorched over the girl as she hung cataleptic in the blue curse.

The soldiers, their mouths gaping open, kept their place in the dirt under the dark witch. They knew Gragore consulted the wicked oracle, yet had never seen her. The warlord stole away to her in secret and she never left her tower at the west end of the fortress. What could boil so vital to summon her out? The nightmarish mystery brought fear like fingers all over their bodies, and they sucked the cold air in and out, wheezing frantic white mist.

The Seer twisted her brittle fingers and Saratiese’s hair frazzled up, standing on end as if an electrical current surged her body. Swiveling her withered hand further, the witch summoned the blue scorch to suck away from Saratiese’s edges and stream down to the girl’s stomach. Opening her mouth, the wicked oracle revealed a pure black tunnel of nothingness. With no sound, and without moving her lips, she coerced her raspy voice into our minds.

“This girl shall birth him. The Rival.” Her ragged voice scratched like grating pebbles in our heads.

She guided the blue bolt in circular motions over Saratiese’s middle, orbing it over the girl’s stomach like half of a crystal ball. Every man in the dungeon could suddenly peer through the orbed light as if it were a blue looking glass staring into Saratiese’s insides. Blue illuminated her stomach until a black blotch no bigger than a seed came into view. The black seed began to shift and take shape, growing into a silhouette baring tiny hands and feet. A baby, its’ heart protruding with beats that echoed loud in our ears, writhed within Saratiese. It squirmed, growing a hundred times that of nature. The blue fire suspended Saratiese, fixing her tight to the air as she stared blankly… as if she were not inside of herself. The dark oracle’s gravel voice came back.

“Gragore heed me.” She eyed the warlord with her black pooled eyes. “I have revealed your truth to you since your youth. I have seen all things pure in their wickedness. And I see this rival child. He shall be night to the consecrated day.”

“Then kill her!” Gragore bolstered out, still belly down in the dirt, pointing to Saratiese. “Kill the demon inside of her!”

The soldiers glanced at Gragore, but their eyes soon darted back and forth between Saratiese and the dark witch as if they were afraid to move.

“No.” The witch warned in a dominant, dark voice. “You know not the consecrated child’s path. My eyes show me only the dark and not the light. If the consecrated shall rise up against you, this rival son shall rise against the consecrated.” The witch stared down on Gragore, her blood colored robes swaying at his side.

“And if I do raise up the chosen son?” He asked.

“Then this child,” she lifted a bony finger toward Saratiese, “will kill you.”

“Can this be changed?” He asked, fear clenching his voice.

“As time fades into dust, so does your destiny of the dark empire. If you do not soon seize your fate, it will run from you, and unto another.”

Gragore squared his jaw, his sallow expression muted in the purple smolder. “Then I shall harness this rival child and the consecrated!”

He pounded a fist into the dirt, staring up at the ghostly hag with resolve. When she offered nothing in reproach, he motioned to his soldiers.

“Do what must be done!”

The soldiers slinked up to their feet like fearful, beaten dogs.

“Grab her.” Gragore ordered again.

The men pried their eyes from the dark oracle, snatching a hold of me, yanking me up to my feet. The witch lowered her hand, releasing the bolt form Saratiese, dropping her to the ground. The blue flame quenched, surging the dungeon into blackness. The glitter of blue dust sparkled in the dark for a few moments after, but soon faded. As the soldiers scrambled, relighting the torches, a united gasp hushed the chamber. Saratiese and the witch were gone.

Chapter 60

The time of his fate came quickly, chasing after me like a pack of starving wolves. Within the hour, I found myself lying there, staring up at the midmorning sky, watching thin wisps of cloud drift overhead. Gragore had ordered all soldiers but five out of the fortress, spilling them into the surrounding fields.

In the yard, one man stood at each corner of my slab, their backs turned to me. Gragore had rambled on about keeping their eyes away from the sacred ceremony, saying that the prophecy spoke of the consecrated coming in secret, only under the eyes of fate. No one else, not even Masseeia or Cyrenna, were allowed into the yard.

I took in a deep breath, smelling the musk of the wet, burnt grass. The fires must finally been quenched. I thought, trying to keep my mind free of the towering, wooden stake waiting to my left. Try as I may, my eyes kept wandering back to the stake and to the chunks of tree branch at its’ base. I closed my eyes tight, shoving the thought away. Swallowing, I reopened them, attempting to look over the yard without Gragore noticing. Thankfully, he appeared much too caught up, pacing the yard and searching every alcove to make certain no soldier had lingered behind to catch a glimpse of ‘his ceremony’.

I gave a sideways glance. I could hear Laidea and the others mumbling in a cell for the condemned at the yard‘s edge, but could not see them. Not from my place in center yard. I scanned the walls. No soldiers. The yard stood empty, except for Gragore and the five soldiers. My throat tightened. I wriggled my arms, rattling the chains. The same chains bound my feet. If only I could do what Valasca did to escape these shackles. More clouds drifted overhead in a sea of blue sky.

“Look who I have.” Gragore whispered in my ear, sparking me to jump. His words settled in my ear with syrupy enthusiasm as I tipped my head to look.

“Queen Perseathea!” I shouted without thought, straining my chains as Gragore paraded the woman around to my side.

Once the Queen stood in full view, my heart dropped into my stomach. She swaggered in place, chains dripping her. Bruises welling under the fresh blood.

“I’ve no more need for your mother here, so I thought you might like to see her one last time.”

Tears immediately burned into my eyes, my chest aching. Queen Perseathea gazed down on me, and even through the blood seeping her eyes, I could see her tenderness, her heart aching for me. Gragore sauntered around Perseathea, putting his arm around her.

“That’s our daughter.” He squeezed the woman’s shoulder. “And today, she will take her mother’s place.”

“No!” I shouted, thrashing in my chains.

I had no idea what I was doing, but I had to do something. I had to stall him, distract him… anything, because I knew what was about to happen to Queen Perseathea. Gragore had me, he didn’t need her anymore, and that wooden stake taunted me with that, laughing at me from its’ place in the yard.

Gragore boomed out with laughter. “What can you do about it, young one? You can do nothing. Look at yourself.” He plucked his fingers over my baby toe. “You can scarcely move this toe without my allowing it.”

“Don’t worry for me, Askca.” Perseathea spoke in a near whisper, “I’ve served my purpose. I am at peace with this.”

Her words were soft, but they flashed a fire through me. I knew what she was doing and I wasn’t going to let her. “You can’t give up. I won‘t let you!”

“What do you expect her to do, child?” Gragore interrupted again, his constant grin still snug and unwavering. “She’s chained up and beaten half to death. Your mother can’t save you this time.”

The hurt on Perseathea’s face glowed heavy at his remark, but she kept her gaze on me.

“I brought my children into this life. That was my purpose.”

“No….” I pleaded, holding back hot tears.

“Keep your sister safe.”

“Don’t do this.”

“Fate has fallen into your hands now, Askca.”

“Time is up.” Gragore quipped, yanking the Queen away me.

My face flushed red hot and I could think of nothing to do but beg. “No!”

At the sound of my plea, Perseathea busted from Gragore’s hand, shuffling her chained feet over to me. She

fell on my chest, straining to hold me, her eyes glassing with tears she would not let fall.

“I love you, Askca. I always loved you.”

I buried my chin in my chest, looking at her, straining my hands toward her. “I love you too.”

Her sad eyes softened at my words and I felt her relax her head into my stomach, as if she were finally free from her burden. And I wanted to comfort her. Needed to comfort her. My body, inside and out, ached to comfort her. I couldn’t bare the pain in her eyes. She was giving up, but it was only to spare me. I knew that, and what else could she do? Laidea and the others were in a holding cell. No one else was coming for us this day. No one was coming for her. Or for me. But it was only for her that my heart split in two. For myself, I felt no more than guilt. If it weren’t for me, none of us would be here. None of us.

Gragore clawed into Perseathea, ripping her away from me as I shook with a silent sobbing.

“You will watch your mother die!” He stabbed a finger at me, his face burning scarlet. “Look there!”

I glanced at the steak, but soon darted my eyes back to the warlord.

“That is what happens when an Amazon defies me!”

“You will not take her from me!” I ground out from clenched teeth, straining against my chains, all my sadness rapidly turning to anger. If he killed Queen Perseathea, I would do whatever it took to soak my hands in his blood. His hot, thick, red blood, would be up to my elbows.

Gragore tossed Perseathea to the ground in a jumble of chains and dust, then lumbered back to my slab, bending over so close that I could feel his hot breath on my face.

“I won’t take her from you?” He questioned, grinning to cover his fury. “Try and stop me.”

I laid there, shaking in my anger, teeth gritting. I hated him. Hated him with my mind, body, and spirit… but there was nothing I could do. At least not yet. So knowing this, he turned his back on me, grabbing up Queen Perseathea as he went.

My fists clenched and every muscle in my body pulled tight. I didn’t have a plan, I didn’t have a way of escape, and there was no one left to help me, but I did have one thing. Resolve. And hell, death, or worse, one thing was for sure.

“You will not take her from me!”

Chapter 58

“Here she is.” Gragore pitched Perseathea through the door, tumbling her into Masseeia‘s feet. “Do what you will, but be brief, she’s due for the flame.”

“What I have won’t take long.” Masseeia crossed her arms, looking down on Perseathea.

Gragore smirked, unconcerned, sliding the stable door shut.

“Cyrenna,” the First Commander glanced to the woman at her side, “tie her to the post. Let’s get her used to wooden stakes.”

Cyrenna heaved Perseathea up, chains and all, over to the suggested post.

“Your daughter’s celebration will come within the hour.” Masseeia paced. "And you will be cinders by mid afternoon. All in all I‘d say this is turning out to be an enjoyable day for me.”

Perseathea allowed silent moments to chill the air before speaking. “What is it you have for me?”

“A question.” Masseeia stopped, turning to Perseathea. “More than a question really. I have words that have been burning my soul black for long seasons.”

Taken aback by the comment, Perseathea cocked an eyebrow. The First Commander’s underlying tension was growing more and more evident by the moment. Her emotions seemed to be prying up through her skin, badgering to break out. This was unlike Masseeia. The woman Perseathea knew was like stone, cold and unmoved. A Masseeia who had never shed a tear, nor even come close, or so it was legend. Whatever lurked beneath the words drew rage into Masseeia’s breath, shaking her voice. Icing her words.

“Is this burning reason enough to betray me?” Perseathea asked, holding her calm. “Reason enough to betray GarTaynia?”

Masseeia’s eyes flashed up like blades and she grabbed a handful of the Queen‘s chains. “You are the betrayer!”

Perseathea leaned back. “How have I betrayed you?”

Masseeia stood silent, her eyes bulging as her fingers tangled in the chains. She pulled the links in, drawing Perseathea in close. Uncomfortably close.

“Do you not know me?”

“Know you?”

“You heard me.” Masseeia cinched up the chains even tighter, constricting the air in Perseathea‘s chest. “Do you not see me?”

“What are you getting at?”

“I asked you a question.”

“And I asked you one.”

Masseeia clenched her jaw so hard that Perseathea could see the thin muscles constricting. “Who am I?”

“You want to place this game?” Perseathea lifted her chin. “Fine. You‘re name to me is Traitor.”

Sparked, Masseeia shoved Perseathea hard into the post, pushing off into another pacing session.

Perseathea glanced over to Cyrenna. “And you…” she eyeballed the woman, “why is it you would betray your own people?”

Cyrenna stared back, eyes wide and without explanation, her obvious fear of the Queen tensing her childlike expression.

“You are talking to me!” Masseeia stabbed a finger into her own chest.

“Are you afraid Cyrenna will betray you the way you have betrayed me?”

“You betrayed me!”

Perseathea studied Masseeia’s face, now burning bright red, and could not understand where any of the woman’s anger was coming from. The cool and calculated First Commander she had known for cycles seemed to be lost somewhere beneath this bout of rage and unexplained resentment. Lost for how to approach it, she shrugged in her chains.

“If there is something you want to say then-”

“There is much.” Masseeia cut in, her words sharp. “And you will answer me. You owe me at least that much.”

“What are you talking about? Your words are running in circles.”

Masseeia stomped back to Perseathea, grabbing into her chains again. “Look at me.”

“I am.”

“How do you not see me?”

“I don’t understand what you want me to say.” Perseathea said, her words heavy and burdened for breath. “Tell me who I am.” Masseeia’s face flushed into dark purple now, sweat surfacing her brow. Even her white knuckled grip on the chains were a testament to her hatred breaking free, unleashing like a wild animal.

“What…? What is wrong with you, Masseeia? Has Gragore done something-”

“Tell me.” The woman pulled Perseathea back into her face. “Look closer.” Silence drew out between the two before Masseeia began slower words. “Alright. Then tell me who you are, Perseathea. Tell me the secrets of your past.”

Perseathea kept silent, questioning if the woman was about to head butt her. Or bludgeon into her. She could see the wrath boiling up in the woman’s eyes, turning with hate. But instead, Masseeia slacked her hold on the chains, settling Perseathea back into the post.

“You, Perseathea, know nothing of my past. Do you?” Masseeia turned her back on the Queen, walking away. Cyrenna put a hand on her friend’s shoulder, but Masseeia shifted, pushing the woman off.

Perseathea stared on the First Commander, struck silent by her. What was this about? Where had it come from? This woman before her now was so far from Masseeia. So far from her friend, the confidant, she admired. This woman was a stranger, and yet, Perseathea’s heart couldn’t help but prick at the woman’s words. Her pain was clear. Unmistakable. Something was hurting Masseeia deeply, but Perseathea didn’t have the first guess as to what it was.

“Masseeia, I don’t understand why you would betray me… or the Amazon Nation. But it is obvious to me that something has happened to you.” Perseathea paused, but Masseeia kept silent. “You and I were more than warriors, we were friends. I trusted you, even above Laidea-”

“Do you think I care about your bleeding heart?” Masseeia kept her back turned.

“I think that what you’ve done bewilders and offends me. I believed you to be a great Amazon. A proud and heroic warrior. But now you’ve proven to be no more than a…” the Queen grimaced as if the words hurt her very heart to utter them, “a traitor. A liar.”

Masseeia took a deep breath, pulling the axe from her thigh and twirling it up into her hand. Standing, she leaned back into Perseathea, settling the blade at her throat.

“Do you know what offends me?”

Perseathea stood steadfast, the axe stinging a drip of blood in her throat. Masseeia’s moods were so unpredictable now she didn’t know what to expect from the woman. Masseeia leaned into the blade splitting the cut deeper.

“Hypocrites. Hypocrites offend me. You, doing all you’ve done and taking no accountability for any of it.”

Perseathea squirmed under the chains, sinking back into the post to escape the pressing sting. “You’ve lost your mind, Masseeia. Your delusions have taken hold.”

“It is not my delusions, my Queen, but yours.”

Masseeia slid the blade like a pendulum over Perseathea’s throat, slicing the top layers of skin into several red lines. Gazing at the thin cuts as if they were little treasures.

“If you want to kill me, Masseeia, why take so long about it?” Perseathea strained in her tight chains, neck stinging. Her blood began a warm trickle down to her chest. “Stand as a warrior? Challenge me.”

Masseeia grinned. “You will die today, Perseathea. Whether by my hand or Gragore’s. It’s of no matter to me.”

“Tell me what it is you want me to say, Masseeia. What words will coddle you best?” Perseathea tilted her head back against the post, looking to the stable rafters with an aggravated sigh. “Because I’d rather die in the flame than waste another moment trying to make sense of your babbling.”

Masseeia grabbed a hold of the Queen’s neck, throttling into her bloody cuts.

“My real name. Say it.”

Perseathea choked, turning purple under the strain and loss of air. “You’re crazy….”

Masseeia dropped her hand as if she were suddenly released from her possession, taking a step back.

“Essicka.”

“Essicka?” Perseathea gasped in a strained whisper, coughing. That name kicked her in the gut. She hadn’t uttered it aloud in over ten summers. It hurt too much. She’d kept it tucked away in her heart since the day she‘d escaped Gragore.

“No… you, you don’t know that name.” She stumbled over her words, her chest warming with painful tears. “You can’t.”

Masseeia glared, her eyes glassing. “You see me now?”

“No….” Perseathea shook her head, refusing, as silence weighed heavy in the air between them.

Masseeia slumped to straddle the guard’s chair, burying her face in her folded forearms as if she were hiding there.

“Is this… another lie?” Perseathea felt her mouth go dry as she urged her heart to slow its’ thumping.

Masseeia looked up. “Do you not see it when you look at me?”

“I….” Perseathea swallowed. “I thought you were dead.”

“I should be. The way you left me here. You abandoned your own sister.”

“My sister….” The words were a whisper. “But why did you never come to me? Why not tell me?”

“Why?” Masseeia asked. “Because I was dead to you. And now, you are dead to me.”

“That’s not true. You were never dead to me. I never gave up.”

“That day of the battle, the last battle of Qkuose, I remember you.” Masseeia’s dark eyes narrowed. “I may have only been a baby, but I remember you. You and Bartamius.”

“Essicka, you were two. And I was a child myself of what? Four?”

“We were hidden away in the caves so that the Qkuose warriors could do battle. You and Bartamius were to care for me.”

Masseeia’s words stung Perseathea into the deep of her heart. “I… I know.”

“But the soldiers in black armor poured into our cave, swarming through the tunnels, prattling to one another about ‘finding the children. Finding the children. Bria’s children’.”

“Essicka. Please,” Perseathea shook her head, trying to ward off the memories, “I never meant for it to happen.”

“They swooped me and Bartamius up, but you… you hid up on that ledge.”

“I was just a child. I didn’t understand-”

“They stole away with me and Bartamius three days before the battle’s end, sweeping us back to this fortress.” Masseeia lifted her eyes to the ceiling, thinking, remembering. “To this Hell. They took me and Bartamius to Gragore.”

“Essicka… I’m-”

“Gragore took us to his witch.” Masseeia’s eyes stabbed. “And don’t you ever say my name again. You no longer have the right to utter that name.”

“But…” Perseathea began, desperately searching the words, “but Gragore came back for me as well. I was brought to this same fortress cycles later.”

“Yes, and you and Bartamius concocted your little scheme for escape, didn’t you? But you never came back for me.”

“Bartamius searched you out since the day you two were brought here, as did I when I was brought. But the seasons grew into cycles and you were kept from us. We had only seen you as a baby, we did not know you as a grown child.”

“Oh but Bartamius knew you. He recognized you, didn‘t he?”

Silence went into moments before Perseathea dared a response. “I… I am his twin. We share features. Essicka please, know that we did ache for you. Bartamius and I both wanted you safe. You were our baby sister.”

“I was put under Gragore’s private watch.”

“I know the horrors you suffered here.” Perseathea spoke softly, trying to comfort the woman. “I suffered them as well. As did Bartamius-”

“But you escaped! You bore a child. Two children. Do you know what happened to me before I escaped?” Masseeia glared in question, waiting.

Perseathea swallowed. “No.”

“Since I was so young,” Masseeia’s words suddenly dropped cold, as if they allude to someone else, “I was unable to bare Gragore a child, so one day when I was only ten summers, he became so infuriated that I could not take to his seed that he kicked me. Over and over again he kicked me. Bleeding me. Till I was black and purple. Until I could bare no child. Ever.”

Her words turned from cold to stale. “My womb is like dust, Perseathea. Dead. I escaped on my own. I had no help, no blood to rescue me.”

She took a step back, staring cold, but her eyes were starting to shine with glassy sorrow. And at that, she turned her head, hiding her face. For the first time in her life, Perseathea thought she might see the Masseeia cry.

“I,” Perseathea began, solemn, “I don’t know what to say…. But why do this Essicka? How could you help Gragore after all he’s suffered you?”

“He is the only one with the power to get me what I want.” Masseeia crossed her arms, turning back to face Perseathea. “You and Askca will die, just the way you and Bartamius left me to die. No one in GarTaynia has purpose to question me. They believe me to be on a quest to recover your body for an honorable funeral fire. And I will return with your body. Then, I will take my place as Queen.”

“Gragore used you, Essicka. Don’t you see that? He used you to get to Askca.”

“Your sight is short.” Masseeia shook her head. “When I first came to GarTaynia, I did not realize you to be my sister. It was not till cycles later, by fate, that I walked by your hut that day. It was shortly after Palius was taken into the tribe. I overheard you and Laidea speaking of Gragore. I had not heard that name in ages and when I did, terror shook into my bones. I had to listen. You spoke of Askca and your concerns and in that instant my heart turned black against you. You were my lost sister. The one who had left me for dead, left me to Gragore and his purpose. That is when I sought out your friendship. That is why as you rose to the Queen hood, I rose to be your First Commander.”

“But that’s no reason to bring war to your sisters. How could you go along with Gragore’s plot?”

“That’s what you do not see, Perseathea. All of this, everything that has happened, it was my plot, not Gragore‘s. He’d been just as content had I delivered Askca into his hands without a war. But there was more I wanted. More I deserved. So it is not Gragore who has used me, but I who have used him.”

Chapter 59

The door ripped open, rushing light into the old stable and silhouetting the soldier at its’ threshold.

“Gragore waits."

“It will be done.” Masseeia said and the door shut. "Cyrenna, loosen her."

Cyrenna knelt down behind the beam and began working on Perseathea‘s chains.

"The moment has come.” Masseeia arched an eyebrow, her words sapping like syrup. “Little Askca is about to suffer the family tradition."

Perseathea swallowed hard into her throat. She loved Essicka. Essicka was her only sister. For a moment in the old stable, she had found her long lost sister. But Masseeia’s jibe rushed all the poison of betrayal back, stabbing it cold into Perseathea’s heart. Essicka was her sister, but Askca… Askca was her child.

“Do not even speak her name.” Perseathea graveled out.

"What's the matter?" Masseeia leaned into her with a sly grin. "Don’t like the thought of what your little girl is about to suffer? Know it all too well, do you?" Cyrenna, overhearing the First Commander’s antagonizing, ceased her manipulation on the chains, knowing better than to be this close if Queen Perseathea did rouse.

"Askca is going to be laid wide open out there.” Masseeia paused, relishing the idea. “In front of Gragore. In front of you, and there's nothing you can do to stop it. You’ve failed her, Perseathea. There‘s no denying that."

Perseathea tensed every muscle at Masseeia‘s words, desiring more than anything to be free of her chains and ripping the woman‘s throat out. “You may be right.”

“Of course.”

“I have failed my daughter and I know I‘m about to die. But there is one thing I can do first.”

“What’s that?”

“I can push you straight into hell.”

Perseathea busted against her chains, purpling the skin on her arms as she strained toward Masseeia. Cyrenna stayed place behind the Queen, eyeing the chains nervously. The links still held, but not all the locks were linked up.

“And I will drag you down with me.” Masseeia smiled back at the Queen with doe eyes, her tone unaffected. Cool. “We’ll go together.”

Perseathea stopped her fighting, calming herself. Realizing that now wasn’t the time. She would have to wait for a better opportunity.

“A dark fate chases after you Masseeia.” Perseathea paused. “It craves you.”

“I’ll take my chances.” The First Commander shrugged off the comment. “Today is a day I’ve longed for. Ached for. Your death comes as sweet as honey to my lips, and Askca, well, young Askca has so much more to anticipate, doesn’t she?” Masseeia prowled back into Perseathea’s face, slinking like a snake. “Your precious little daughter… you’ve kept her safe at such a cost for all these cycles, and look where it has gotten you.”

Perseathea glowered, hostility pumping her veins hot, but she forced her calm, focusing only on the chains now hanging a bit looser around her body. Masseeia must have

realized them as well, because her next glance was down to Cyrenna.

“How loose are those chains?”

“Not loose.” Cyrenna looked up with nervous eyes, her tone unconvincing.

“Loose enough, I wager.” Masseeia smirked. “Keep them taut for now.”

Cyrenna cinched up on the chains and Masseeia dipped back a couple paces, slipping into an abandoned horse stall. She slid her finger over an assortment of weapons as seductively as she would a lover, enticing herself with the cold touch of the iron. Her finger stopped on a stone mallet. Picking it up, she ambled back over to Perseathea.

“Do what you must, Masseeia,” Perseathea aid, “I will not cower to you. Not this day, nor any other.”

“Well now,” Masseeia began tapping the mallet against her palm. “I think today might really be your last chance.”

“If I am to die today,” Perseathea kept a steely eyed glare, “it will not be while bowing in pity to you.”

Masseeia’s eyes flashed up. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

Masseeia’s hand turned white gripping the mallet. “You speak of me as if I’m the one who’s evil. I am Essicka! I am the sister you left behind.”

“You may have been Essicka. Once. But no longer. Now you are nothing but dead and loathing on the inside. You no longer stand as a woman, but something else, something wicked and distorted.”

“Your empty heart makes me anticipate your death all the more.” Masseeia hissed, turning red with anger.

“Look at you. Foolish and emotional, ranting on this way. Where is the cool headed warrior I know?”

Suddenly, Masseeia rushed Perseathea, grappling into the Queen’s neck to mash her head against the post.

“You heed me,” she ground out the words, “I delivered Askca to him. I led him to GarTaynia and to you as well, my Queen. And I know about Palius.” She clawed her fingers deeper into Perseathea’s neck. “Do not speak down to me as if I am beneath you. I’ve never been beneath you. No, I’ve lurked over every day you’ve lived, every word you’ve spoken, and every breath you’ve taken, for longer cycles than you can count. You may have forgotten me, Perseathea, but I never once forgot you.”

Masseeia’s eyes narrowed. “I am going to savor the sweetness of the air when it smolders with the smell of your blistering flesh, blacking to a crisp over your bones.” And then, as if she’d spoke not a word, Masseeia sunk back, settling into her mallet tapping again.

“As I said…” Perseathea squared her jaw, “foolish and emotional.”

Masseeia swung the mallet. Black. The Queen’s head busted against the post, dropping to her chest, a trickle of blood streaming her swelling lips. Masseeia lifted the woman’s chin. The Perseathea’s eyes were shut and her cheek already purpled into a near black.

"Oh how far you have fallen, my Queen." Masseeia let Perseathea’s head drop, then turned her eyes to Cyrenna. "Now unchain her."

Chapter 60

The yard loomed dusty and barren in the midmorning sun. Only the stone block, me, and the four soldiers dotted its’ center. The slab. A crude cut of solid stone, it drew ten paces by five, and each of its’ corners bore an iron ring. Blood stained the rock, trapping the memory of a hundred dead men. Unspeakable cruelties. Beating, flogging, lashing, burning… all had made for a gruesome spectacle on this slab. The slab was said to be a stone carved from Hell itself, then laid to earth by evil spirits conjured up by the dark witch. Today, it possessed me.

I laid sprawled out, ankles and wrists chained to the opposing rings. Exposed. Rough burlap, covering more as a two sided square of material, scratched down the middle of my hips. my body trembled against my will, and the cold of the slab chilled my skin. My mind stormed with panic, pleading a way of escape, but I refused to let it show on my face.

And then my Queen, my mother, was brought back out, and the sight of her bruised my heart like a blow to the chest. Queen Perseathea drug behind one of the soldiers, her chains twisting loose as her body left a trail of thick blood in the dirt. When the man lifted her up, her body flopped about, her eyes shut. Two soldiers bound her to the stake and she just stood there, lifeless, her head hanging at her chest.

My mouth went dry. I’d never seen her this way, the great Queen Perseathea of GarTaynia, and I couldn’t imagine this to be true. It felt more like a trick to my eyes. Queen Perseathea had only been strong and untouched, even in battle, all the seasons of my youth. She was the most mighty of our tribe. One of the five Queen’s of the Nation. But today, she stood unconscious, bruised and battered. Bleeding and unaware. And at long last, I saw the human side of her. The real person. Not just the magnificent conqueror I had made her out to be.

I pulled my stare away, refusing to look a moment more. The shake in my body worsened. I closed my eyes and in my dark refuge I could hear the mumblings of Laidea, Hippolyta, and the braves, belligerent and muffled in the cell down the path. The cell of the condemned. He will kill them. I stifled a warmth of tears welling in my chest, swallowing them back down.

“I can’t let this happen.” I said to myself. “I can’t let you do this.”

Gragore, who hunched but a stone’s throw away placing ruins in a symbol in the dirt, turned around to me. Standing, his eyes blazed black. Letting his remaining ruins drop to the dust, he stomped over to the slab. Hovering over me like a viper. Pressing his palm against my forehead, he bruised down on me, gritting my head into the rock.

“You have no choice.” He said, grinding his teeth as his face turned a plum color. “Today is my fate. Mine!” He pushed off of my head, pacing away.

“Even if you force your seed on me a thousand times I will not let this child be born!” I cried out, surprised by my own shout, anger boiling back into me.

Gragore spun around, lynching into my throat. “You will or I will take your young sister in your place!”

“Any child your seed forms in me will be cut open at

birth!”

Gragore bashed a fist into my face.

Black.

Caressing a hand over his blood strewn knuckles, Gragore glowered down. “You will speak not one word against my fate.”

And with that, he paced back to his ruins in the dust.

Chapter 61

Footsteps crunched the dirt, stirring up the dust as he approached me. Dark in my head, I felt the rays of morning sun warming my skin, my heart pounding wild in my ears. The murmurs of the men gathering in the surrounding fields of the fortress intertwined into a soft buzz of noise. Wind snapped the banners high atop the fortress walls. And the footsteps crunching the dirt stopped. Shade fell across my face, cooling me in his shadow.

“I, Gragore the Reaper of an Empire, stand before you, dark powers, ready to claim my destined domination. It has been prophesied through your dark seer that I,” he beat his chest, “shall rise up your invincible kingdom. I have done what was told of me, scattering my seed far and wide. Taking and molding those seeds into a mighty army stemmed by my own blood. Your dark witch has led me since my youth to this day, and now, under the eyes of no man, I demand the pinnacle of my harvest.”

Silence pursed Gragore’s lips, as if he expected an answer from these malevolent gods to whom he spoke. He glanced to the four soldiers at each corner of the slab. All stood quite and unmoved, their backs to me like statues. He gave one last suspicious account of the inner fortress, searching its’ edifices and stables, glancing up its’ high walls. Satisfied we were alone, he turned eager eyes to me. Pulling himself onto the slab, he settled in between my legs, eyeing the blood trickling my nostril. His lips twisted into a perverted grin, and I felt my stomach turn sour, twisting and burning. For a moment, I thought I might vomit. Edging up further into my thighs, Gragore lounged himself onto an elbow, taking in the smell of blood on my upper lip. Fearing he was about to kiss me, I tightened my lips and my eyes. Refusing to look on him. Relishing it, he traced the blood till it tipped his grimy finger red.

“Not by lust, but by power, you beckon my arousal.” He whispered in my ear, his voice like gravel. “So helpless,” he steamed hot breath onto my neck. “Oh that your skin were already gray with death and cold to the touch. Then, my daughter, you would truly tempt me.”

He lapped at my ear with a thick and gorging tongue. Keeping my eyes tight, I strained my neck, pulling away from him, but there was no where to go.

“But we’ve fate to create first. Then after you will

turn cold, I will come to you once more.”

His hand groped down my body, sliding down around my hips.

“Start the fire.” He ordered without looking up.

A set of heavy boots ground toward the post where Queen Perseathea stood bound and unconscious, her head hanging. Gragore sludged his tongue down my neck, easing his heavy frame on top of me. Sliding his hand down, he tugged the burlap up around my hips. I could feel him looking at me, but I kept my eyes shut. Hiding. Pretending. Waiting for my moment.

“My flesh shall part your innocence,” his hot breath misted my chin as he shifted his hand, slipping himself ready, “and my son will be summoned.” His mouth hung open in grunts as he steadied himself.

I lay under the warlord, dormant and hiding in the darkness of my head. I weighed into the slab, still… but for the wobble of my hips in his hand. A stone’s throw away, a fresh fire crackled to life, snapping at the base of Perseathea’s post. The woman drooped unaware above its’ impending heat, the musk of burning wood smoldering up into the dusty and dry breeze, covering the lingering reek of the wet, burnt grass of early morning.

The four soldiers held their rearward guard and the banners whipped the wind. Snapping. Clapping. Everything else about the day seemed to go silent. Everything except for the sound of Gragore shuffling above me, grunting in my ear, pressing his weight into me. The smell of my blood still dripped my nose, tickling, and I tried to go somewhere else in my head.

Settling his palms into the stone at each side of my ribs, Gragore lifted his body ready. The tip of his intrusion hung beneath me, grazing my inner thigh. The weight of him ground down on me, pinning me to the cold stone.

He groaned. “My daughter….”

Flames sped up the pile of kindling, prowling toward Queen Perseathea’s already pinking feet. Gragore smoothed his palm over my thigh, pulling me in closer, then slipped his hand back between his legs, lifting himself to me. He settled down onto my chest, crushing my breath, lunging for his first thrust.

My eyes sprung alive, and I dove my chin into the warlord’s neck. Sucking in a chunk of his flesh, I bit. Grinding my teeth, I grizzled at his throat, tasting his salty sweat mix with the tang of his hot blood. A shriek vibrated up Gragore’s chest and I looked into his purpled face as he pulled away from me, tumbling back off the slab. Like an animal I strained up, staring after him. Watching as he stumbled, I spat out a thick portion of his flesh, displaying my red stained teeth to him, wanting him to see his own blood smearing my chin.

Gragore said nothing, only groaning and grappling at his bloody neck. My eyes darted to the Queen. The fire charged her feet, tearing up the branches in wild orange and yellow slithers. I strained again, busting at my chains.

“No!” I shouted and the four soldiers gave a peripheral glance, but kept their backs to me as ordered. Gragore scowled down on me with wicked black eyes, cupping red stained fingers around his throat.

“I will finish this!” He stomped back to me, lurching up the slab and slamming back into me. I knocked back into the rock, his bruising plunge forcing coughs from my gut. The warlord clawed back between my legs. I clenched my fists till they paled, my chains rattling around him in defiance as I fought for breath. Thrashing beneath him. Fighting him. Even as he attacked, milling me into the cold stone, my eyes leapt back to my Queen. Perseathea’s legs blazed scarlet amidst the flames, blistering as the smoke billowed up around her limp body.

“Mother!” I shouted, my voice ragged and high pitched. Desperate.

Gragore wrestled, holding my arms down, mashing them into the rock. He brought his hips to mine again.

“No!” I screamed at him, bucking and shifting beneath his body. “I will kill it! I will kill this baby!”

Gragore spoke no words and did not pause to look me in the eye. Instead he kept constant, meticulous, slipping his hand back down my body. Smoke from the steak choked into my chest, burning my eyes as it wafted over the slab. I felt Gragore slide his hand to the side of my ribs. The bob of his intrusion grazed my thigh again, rushing my body hot with sick. Causing me to thrash harder, kicking and brawling as much as my chains would allow.

Gragore only bore down stronger. “Shhhh.”

“No!”

He tipped into me. But before he could continue, something split the air. Gragore tensed. Pulling up from, his eyes bulged. I darted my eyes across the yard. The four soldiers stood as if nothing had happened and I saw no one else. Another whoosh came before I understood. Arrow. It cut into Gragore, protruding both sides of his forearm. Clenching his jaw stiffer, he gritted out in high pitched pain. I glanced up his arm, finding the first arrow protruding out the back of his shoulder.

He clawed at the injured arm, stumbling off me and to the dirt. Blood spurted his arm, thick and red. The warlord staggered about, his frantic eyes searching the empty yard. His four soldiers stood place, never looking back to me, but I could sense there eyes moving over the fortress as well. Gragore groaned out, clutching at his twice wounded arm.

“Find them…” he ground out. The four men cautiously turned to the warlord, noticing his bloody arm. “Find them!”

The soldiers split ways, sprinting throughout the yard.

“There!” One of the soldiers shouted. “The north wall!”

Gragore lifted his chin, his face contorting with cynicism.

“Five?” He garbled out a strained laugh despite his pain. “A meager five Amazons bring attack on me?”

Still scrabbling rigid fingers at his bloody arm, he turned back to me, wobbling back to the slab.

“But sir…” another soldier spoke up, “how did the five get passed all the men in the field?”

Chapter 62

I looked up to the north wall. At the crest stood five Amazons. Most conspicuous stood a stoic woman, her body brandishing the paramount symbols of the queen hood. I did not know this woman, but next to her stood familiar faces. Valasca, Malaia, Kelius, and at their end… Palius, bow in hand. I marveled at them, as puzzled as I was impressed by Palius’ appearance, but my mind soon diverted. Gragore was slithering back on top of me, weighing down, the warm blood of his wounds smearing my skin.

“It will take more than arrows to keep me from my fate.”

I wrestled, twisting my hips in a challenge of chase beneath the warlord. Pulling my chin over his shoulder, I shouted up to my friends.

“She’s is in the fire!”

The five split, scrambling down the wall.

“They will not stop this.” Gragore promised in my ear, his sweaty, smoke smudged face reeking the air between us.

“Guard the corners.” He barked, rushing his men back to the slab.

Another succession of arrows split the air and the four soldiers dropped. Then… a rumbling. I rolled my head about on the stone, searching the mysterious thunder. Heavy and deep, it was growing. Louder and louder. I tipped my head back, staring up to the heavens, but there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The roar raged up into a storm of noise. Booming. Torrential it sounded, until it demanded the ground to shudder. The vibrations carried up through the stone and into my body.

And a scream shrilled up from the smoke, the only sound to rise above the thunder. Queen Perseathea recovered awareness, jerking about in the smoke, panicking against her binds. Squirming with wild eyes and coughing, she jumped in jolts, spits of fire blistering near her pinking legs.

I lurched up to bite Gragore again, but this time the warlord held back, just out of my reach. The rumble spread under the land like an earthquake, trembling the very foundation of the fortress. The sound of panicked men in the surrounding fields strangled out in waves. A ball of fire scorched the sky over our heads, exploding into the living quarters in a burst of wood shards and flame. Fiery arrows blazed the sky, searing down like hot rain. A rogue arrow scratched passed Gragore’s neck, splintering against the stone a mere hand’s length from my head.

A vast chorus of violent whoops and shrieks lifted into the morning, followed by a hurricane of battle cries and pounding hooves. The fortress door ground open in a wave of soldiers driving to get in.

“The Amazons are attacking!”

They shouted, more than twenty men working to heave the gate shut and barricade it.

Another fire ball crashed into the fortress, sending the horses into a frantic scramble out of the half destroyed stables. More than a thousand steed beat the fields outside, thundering in like a great and dark hailstorm. A violent flow of Amazons poured out of the surrounding hills, shrieking battle cries and cutting down a scatter of soldiers.

With a heavy clunk, the front gate crashed into the dirt, puffing up a cloud of dust. A torrent of red and yellow streaked warhorses busted through, trampling the men so desperate to hold it shut. Brashly painted warrior women dashed past, driving their horses, whooping and howling as they waved axes. The clang of iron battling iron riddled the air. In the middle of it all, I lay scared and bewildered. These warriors raiding the fortress, saving my life, were Amazons I had never before seen.

Chapter 63

Kelius and Malaia sprinted through the tangle of fighting, racing between edifices to reach the condemnation cell.

“Perseathea is in the flame!” Laidea shouted from behind the bars, her eyes wide and anxious.

At the Commander’s words, Malaia darted off to the bonfire.

Kelius swung her axe into the cell door’s hinge with a thud, and again, till the hinge came loose, dropping into the dirt. Laidea, Hippolyta, and their braves pushed out of the cell.

“There is water in the horse troughs.” Malaia yelled back.

The Amazons hurried to the troughs, pulling pails through the heavy water. Rushing, they hobbled the water over to the fire.

Fearing the chaos in the yard, Gragore suddenly scrambled off of me. Clenching at his arm, he disappeared into the battle. Smoke hovered the yard thick now but I could hear Laidea’s voice.

“More water!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hippolyta and Belsiphiny scrambling back and forth. Splash after splash cracked the breeze, sizzling the flames and ushering up more smoke.

I dropped my cheek to the stone, heart beating my chest like a taut drum skin. A horde of nameless Amazons devoured the yard all around me. Red and yellow consumed the fortress, blood slinging from their blades, the smell of it stinking up the air. Hundreds. Thousands.

Watching, I rolled my head side to side, my muscles tensing, feeling the vulnerability of my place on the slab. The battle raged around me, splattering blood across my skin, clanging the massacre into my ears. I felt desperate on the slab, left there for any who might realize me, but at the same time I understood. They had to save Queen Perseathea first, and for now, Gragore was no where to be seen, making me safe from at least him.

Queen Perseathea staggered down from the post, tumbling to the dirt under another douse of water. Laidea rushed to her side, draping an arm to pull the woman up.

“Perseathea!” The name shot out like an attack.

Laidea and Perseathea swung around to find Masseeia charging across the yard, axe in hand and with Cyrenna just a pace behind. Laidea and Hippolyta both stepped in front of Perseathea, determined to protect the woman as she recovered from the smoke in her chest. Both stood unarmed, but eager and ready to guard the wounded Queen. As they shielded her, Perseathea bolted to a dead soldier, swooping down to draw his sword. Prompting her two warriors to step aside, she stepped between them, waiting for Masseeia.

“Take Cyrenna.” She mumbled under her breath. Hippolyta and Laidea nodded.

“Perseathea!” Masseeia shouted again, her hair riding the wind like black fire.

Hippolyta and Laidea separated, coming around to rush Cyrenna from the sides. Just as Masseeia swung her axe into Perseathea’s sword, the two warriors swept in, tackling Cyrenna.

I gritted my teeth, pulling my wrists purple, straining at my chains. I sucked in panicked breaths. Only one soldier need forget Gragore’s order. Just one, and I’m dead…. Or worse. The thought jittered through my mind, incessant, bouncing like lightening between canyon walls. Fingers grazed mine, ripping my attention to my left hand.

“Palius!” The name flashed out of my mouth like an anthem.

The child stood behind me, axe wobbling above her head as she eyed my left wrist.

My mouth dropped open. “Are… are you certain that axe isn’t too heavy?”

Palius shook her head, her blue gaze fixed on the chains in concentration. I clenched my eyes shut, holding my breath, praying to the goddess. I heard the heavy blade drop, splitting my iron chain with a loud clink. I peeked an eye open just in time to see Palius lifting the cumbersome blade again. The girl dropped the blade three times more, tensing my body rigid with every sink into the iron.

Free, I sprung up, sliding from the rock and retrieving the axe. Taking Palius by the hand, we sprinted back into an alleyway. Settling into a crouch in the shadows, I yanked her into a hug.

“Thank you.” I held her for a moment before pulling back. "Now, how did you get here?"

"There’s no time." Palius whispered.

I glanced down the alleyway, still catching my breath, then brought my eyes back to the child.

"Listen Palius. There are things you must know.” I whispered. “Things I have to tell you now."

"There is no time." Palius shook her head defiantly, the cuts on her face dinging in the shadows. She tugged at my burlap, urging me to tread deeper down the alleyway.

I held my place, knowing this wasn’t the best time to tell her, but also feeling an overwhelming sense of urgency. She had to know we were sisters and she had to know it before something happened to me.

"I can't go into battle unless…” I paused, rethinking my words. Trying to be honest but delicate, I took her by the shoulders. “We’ve nearly lost you once already. Your scarred face is a testament to it. Beyond that, I can’t chance my own death until you know who I am."

Palius sighed and I couldn‘t decide whether it was because she’d grown impatient with me, or because she was releasing a burden on the breath.

“I already know.”

The deep calm in the child’s voice soothed me in a way I didn’t understand. Her words delivered a peace passing my understanding and… it made me believe her. It also slowed my racing heart. The feeling was odd, but consoling. I couldn’t help but think, for a child so young as Palius, such stillness and acumen weighed unnatural, and yet, she wore it like garland.

Clashing blades clinked back to my ears, and I became alert to the battle once again. Shaking off the musings of Palius, I realized my place. I had to protect this girl. If I died today, she was the Amazon’s last hope.

“Look,” I took her by the shoulders again, “I have to get you out of here, but I can’t do that till we find the Queen.”

I glanced back down the alleyway, watching combat jumble back and forth before our entrance. The other side of the alley loomed in shadows, but no fighting polluted it. At the end of its’ stretch, stood the back wall of a bakery. Even through the fire, the smoke, and the blood, I could smell the slightest hint of bread. Grabbing Palius’ hand, I sprinted us both deeper down the path. Stopping at the backside of the bakery, I peered around it’s corner. The area was quiet. Abandoned. Fires were eating away at the edifices around it, victims of the onslaught of catapulted fire balls, but the bakery appeared untouched.

Slinking around, I darted us inside the edifice. I put a finger to my lips to encourage Palius’ silence, then searched out the place. A cupboard in the crook of the room caught my eye. Plucking the door open, I shuffled around the clay pots, making room.

“I need you to hide in here till I come back.” I ushered Palius into the tight spot.

The girl crawled in, turning to sit with her knees tucked to her chest. She looked up at me, the worry in her eyes asking.

“We Amazons will conquer today. Yes?” I questioned, hoping the child knew something from her visions. But her eyes kept worrisome, and she said nothing. My stomach burned at that, but I swallowed the fear back, trying to keep my features untroubled.

“But…” I began, already dreading my words, “if I don’t come back for you by midday, stay hidden till nightfall. Wait for the hour the remaining soldiers will try to drink off the curse of battle, then get out of here. However you can.”

Chapter 64

Laidea and Hippolyta pummeled Cyrenna into the dirt, forcing the woman onto her back and struggling to tame the flailing axe in her hand. Laidea heaved a heavy knee into Cyrenna’s chest, crushing her breath while holding her down. Grappling after the woman’s wrist, Hippolyta pried the axe from Cyrenna’s fingers, then handed the weapon to Laidea. Lugging Cyrenna back onto her chest, Hippolyta ground a knee into the woman’s back, grabbing up a handful of hair to force the woman’s chin into the dirt. Once Cyrenna was subdued and coughing in a cloud of dust, Hippolyta slid her sword, lifting to her feet.

Still holding the axe, Laidea kicked Cyrenna in the ribs. Cyrenna tried to pull up onto her knees, but another cracking kick thwarted her. This blow tossed Cyrenna onto her back, leaving her clawing at her middle as she suffered without breath. One last kick to the jaw, settled the woman into a sleep.

Paces up, Masseeia and Perseathea rivaled, one potent warrior against another, in a perpetual combat of agility versus fury. The radical speed of their contest sent both blades into a blur of bright silver, stinging axe into sword, the two metals clanging in a brutal hunt for blood.

“I will take Askca from you both.” Masseeia seethed from behind her clenched teeth.

Perseathea kept silent, dodging Masseeia’s axe, dashing under its’ swing. Before the First Commander recovered her stance, Perseathea dipped behind her, taking a slice out of the back of the woman's knee. Blood surfaced, and then ran the warrior's leg red causing her to stumble a step. In that one step, Perseathea drew up from behind, grabbing the woman by the throat. Toppling backward, Masseeia found the Queen’s long blade stretched out under her chin.

"Speak my daughter’s name just once more, and I’ll slice you open on that slab myself.” Perseathea cut a red slice into Masseeia’s throat, punctuating her threat. “Now, drop the axe.”

The First Commander dropped the weapon.

“Sweet nothings, Perseathea?” Gragore goaded, sauntering up with Palius squirming under his arm as if he were carrying a bundle of scrolls rather than a child. Palius strained her head up, fear clenching into her already pinking features as she stared glassy eyed at her mother.

Slipping Palius to her feet, the warlord grabbed into her fair hair, tempting his dagger against her temple. He flashed his yellowed teeth to Perseathea.

“Looks like you and I think alike.”

Perseathea pulled tighter into Masseeia, choking the flat side of her blade against the woman’s air. Flitting her attention to Palius, she tried to reassure her child with a confident gaze, then slid back into her cool tone.

“I’ll cut her open, Gragore.”

“And I’ll run your little cherub through.” He wrenched his fingers tighter in Palius’ curls, twisting the dagger at the side of her forehead.

I sprinted up from behind, heart choking into my throat at the sight. “Palius!”

“Askca, no!” The Queen shouted.

I stopped dead in my pace, once again finding myself in Gragore’s presence as he eyed me.

“Wise choice.”

"You won’t kill her.” Perseathea pulled Gragore‘s attention back. “You need her."

"And you won’t kill your sister.”

Perseathea narrowed her eyes. “Watch me.”

“Then do it. Kill her.” Gragore shrugged. “I’ve no more use for her anyway."

Perseathea dipped her lips to Masseeia’s ear, cinching up her tight hold. “And from his own lips spills the poison. This is who you betrayed us for. Your own people.”

“Imagine…” Gragore grinned, “Essicka doing all I ask of her, even after our time together. Makes no sense, does it?”

“You care nothing for the hands that serve you.”

“And yet, you’re trying to use her against me. Why is that?”

“I brought them to you!” Masseeia burst out at the warlord. “Without me you would have none of them!”

Gragore laughed. “But I have them. Don‘t I? So what would be my use for you now?”

Something tackled into me from behind, shoving me face first into the dirt. My nose went numb with burn and a warm wetness oozed my lip. Chest burning, I wrestled to turn over, but found myself solidly pinned.

“Let her go, Queen Perseathea.” Cyrenna threatened from her straddle over my back. She barred down on me, two handedly pushing a sword point onto the nape of my neck. The sting on my skin instantly ripped my thoughts away from my busted nose. Masseeia cackled at me from under the Queen’s blade, more than amused by my position.

“Well,” Gragore mused, “you have quite the predicament, Perseathea. Both your children lay in wait, held in murderous arms.” He paused, his features beaming like a child with a new toy. “Pick one.”

“Good effort, my friend.” Masseeia crowed, looking to Cyrenna. “Kill the little bit-”

Perseathea strangled her blade into Masseeia’s throat again, choking off the First Commander’s words. Masseeia’s face burned scarlet, but the grin lifting her lips refused to drop.

“I’ll cut her throat.” Perseathea warned Cyrenna. “Right here. Right now.”

“Leave even a scratch and I’ll skewer your daughter to the dirt.”

Laying under the blade, I could feel Cyrenna’s words pressing the point into my neck, begging to split the skin. Every thought of how to buck the woman and twist free flew through my mind, but so did the knowledge that she was a warrior far above my experience. The slightest twist would most likely cut her blade halfway through my throat.

Queen Perseathea cocked her head. “You dare to rival me, Cyrenna?”

“No. I dare to rival your daughter.” Cyrenna glanced to Gragore, keeping the sword point steady at my neck as she turned back to Perseathea. “And the chances of my killing her before you can reach me looks promising.”

“The chances of your living afterward isn‘t.” Perseathea tightened both her palms around the sword at her sister’s neck, pulling it deeper into the woman’s throat, Masseeia’s blood trickling.

“I can kill her before you take a step!” Cyrenna warned, suddenly desperate, darting her eyes between the Queen and Masseeia.

“And after that step?” Perseathea glared, waiting for an answer. “Do you think this lying, deceiving, traitor of a woman will rescue you?”

Cyrenna squared her jaw. “I don’t need rescuing.”

“Oh but you do.” Perseathea smiled. “I can destroy you with little, if no, effort. You know that, Cyrenna. Are you ready to spill your blood for Masseeia?”

“Well,” Gragore added listlessly, speaking over the tension, “this appears to be between you two.”

He turned to walk away, then hesitated, glancing back.

“Isn’t it odd, Perseathea? Surrounded by Amazons and yet not one of them come to your aid when you need it the most. Look on your sweet daughter your last, Perseathea.”

He heaved Palius up by the scruff like no more than a defenseless kitten, her feet stumbling in the dirt. The child’s chest shuddered and her face glistened with tears as the warlord bent down to whisper in her ear.

“Tell your mother goodbye.”

Perseathea stared on Palius, frozen. Her eyes flitted to me, still pinned under Cyrenna’s blade, then back to Palius. The warlord pulled back up with a snicker, sweeping Palius up with him, launching into a step.

Seeing Gragore’s back to her, Perseathea clenched a hand into Masseeia’s leathers and swiped a foot under the woman, dropping her off her feet. Charging forward, she bruised a kick into the back of Gragore’s knee, stumbling him. As he spilled onto his elbows, he landed with a thud, allowing Palius to scurry out from him.

Catching Cyrenna out of the corner of her eye, Perseathea swiped around, pulverizing her foot into the woman’s jaw in an explosion of blood. Knocking her off of me in. Seeing my chance, I twisted, barreling up on top of the stunned warrior. Pinning her forearms under my knees, I chocked my thighs around her neck, pounding fist after fist into her face. I ground into her, my breath burning in my chest. Her already busted lip warmed my knuckles, slipping them in her blood, and I could think of nothing but saving myself by killing her.

The Queen brought her eyes back to Gragore. Recovering, the warlord clawed partway up from of the dirt, teetering onto his hands and knees. Another run catapulted Perseathea, bringing her down on the warlord’s back to smash him off his knees and onto his chin.

“Mother!”

Perseathea spun at the sound of Palius’ cry.

Masseeia scratched after the screeching child, grabbing up a handful of her blond hair, then yanked her up by an arm. Running off, Masseeia escaped with Palius tucked away in her arms.

“I’m going after them.” Queen Perseathea shouted to me, her breath fast. “Get to the stables.”

I nodded frantically, and with that, the Queen took off. Staring after the woman till she disappeared, I then dropped my attention back down to Cyrenna. The warrior laid unconscious beneath me now, blood seeping the splits in her skin, her face purpled and swollen.

Chapter 65

Saratiese awoke with a jerk. Springing up from the furs, her breath shuddered her chest like she’d been running and she soaked in a cold sweat. Hugging herself, she looked around the chamber. The frigid room curved like a spool, reaching high into rafters where tweeting black birds nested. Silver daggers stabbed numerous unrolled scrolls into the mortar walls, the dusty parchments depicting constellations, conjuring spells, and scribbles spiraling out in riddles. High above the scrolls, a lone window loomed, but it was far too lofty for any soul but the black birds to reach. Its’ sunlight filtered down into the drab, dusty chamber, directing Saratiese to the sinister floor symbol it lit up.

Ruin stones speckled the floor like autumn leaves and beneath their dust, blared up this peculiar symbol, almost the size of the floor itself. Lifting to her bare feet, Saratiese hugged herself tighter, her breath showing in mist as she studied the strange mark. Dyed the same blood color as the witch’s robes, it sprawled over the wooden floor like a porthole into nightmares.

A peculiar musk in the room pulled Saratiese away. Sweet and heady, the scent smelled like nothing she had ever known before. A stream of smoke no thicker than her smallest finger caught her eye, tendriling up from a stone on the fireplace mantle. The fireplace itself looked cold, the smoke of the incense its’ only smoke in long days, but the tendrils seemed to congest the whole chamber.

To each side of the fireplace, dozens and dozens of rolled up scrolls protruded a myriad of urns. Each of the urns were a different size, but all them were one of only three colors. Deep red, ocean green, and a purple the shade of twilight. Each urn bore a different insignia, ciphers of which Saratiese knew no meaning. Hundreds of these urns littered the dusty chamber, cluttering the room, making Saratiese feel cramped. Only a quick look up to the high rafters and open window made her feel like there was enough air to breathe.

After a few consoling breaths, the wooden door across the room called out to her. Old wood splintering in its’ age, but thick, its’ black iron hinges appeared much newer than the door itself. Saratiese listened to the stillness of the chamber. Faint voices blended together outside the high window, sounding far away and muddled. Too many to distinguish, but none sounding close. She seemed to be alone… for now. The thought of the Dark Oracle looming nearby sent a shiver under her already chilled skin. The Oracle was unlike anything she’d bore witness too, and the witch’s mere presence made her skin crawl. Where was the hag now? When would she return? What did she want? None of the questions stayed long Saratiese’s head. She pushed them out before they had the chance to cripple her. She had to get out of here and find the others.

Taking a slow step toward the door, her bare feet creaked the wooden floor. Loud. Hesitating, she took another cautious step, then another, all the while staring at the chamber door. Glancing up the wall again, she let out a disappointed sigh. Every dagger loomed much too high for her to reach. Taking one last step, she found herself at the door. Floating a cautious hand out to the iron handle, she swallowed. This chamber must rest high up in a fortress tower. The chances of my getting down to the others unscathed is….

Saratiese squeezed into the cold handle, praying under her breath. Too her surprise, the door popped open with a creak. She stood frozen, tensing at the noise. Waiting for the comfort of silence to flood back, she leaned in, peering out into the hall. A deserted stairwell stretched out before her, its’ view limited by winding steps. Wind howled in the stairwell like the walls were moaning as Saratiese slowly pulled the door open to her chest.

And a voice came. A dark and graveled voice. Saratiese recoiled, her eyes wide and unblinking. The stairwell still loomed empty, but the single voice echoed up… faintly. Far off, but perceptible. Saratiese strained her ears, but she couldn’t make out the words. Cowering behind the door, she waited. Chest heaving. And a faint shuffling sounded at the bottom of the steps.

She slid the door shut, careful of the creak. Taking a step back, Saratiese cautiously leaned back in, pressing an ear to the door. The bizarre uttering grew louder, but still made no sense. Turning around, she glanced over the chamber walls, once again coveting the out of reach daggers. Her own breath now sounded loud in her ears. The shuffling sounded up the steps, echoing the voice throughout the stairwell.

Saratiese froze, balling her fists. There was nowhere to hide. The footsteps now signaled loud and clear. Closer. Closer. And then they stopped, as if someone were standing just outside the door. Waiting. Listening for her. The howling wind rose up in the stairwell again, but not the voice, or the footsteps. Just silence. Saratiese stared at the door, eyes drying in fear, the cold sweat resurfacing in her tight palms. Anxious moments passed with her heart trembling.

Long, silent moments…. Saratiese began to question what she had heard. Had she heard the footsteps? The voice? So many moments had stretched out now that she was unsure. Maybe the witch had given her some strange herbs? She didn’t know. Clenching her jaw, she floated a hand back up to the door handle. The stairwell sighed back at her from the other side, moaning. She tugged the handle. The door popped open again, and Saratiese stood behind it like stone. This time, she refused to peek through the crack. Her hand instead waited at the handle, fearing someone lingered on the other side.

Silence but for the howling. Her mouth went dryer than desert wind. In a jerk, she yanked the door open, pouncing into the hall. No one was there. Silence. Even the howling seemed to die off. Sighing in relief, Saratiese narrowed her eyes on the curve of steps just a few paces away. Abruptly, like an attack, the voice jumped back at her. Loud and in her face. But she could see no one. No one in the hall or on the steps. But the voice seemed to be coming from right in front of her. Then it struck her. The voice was inside her mind.

Heart racing, her skin turned colder than death, and velvet robes swept at her back. She could feel them, see them, their red tips slithering around her legs like ribbons on water. Her breath dropped into white mist again. Saratiese shut her eyes, scared to turn around. Scared to look. The witch had been in the room with her the whole time.

The gravely voice sounded, but once again, not in words she understood. Ghoulish mutterings attacked her mind, showing her what was or could be. Threatening her. Taunting her. Terrified, she opened her eyes to escape. The witch levitated before her. Saratiese tilted her head to take in the full length of the Dark Oracle. Her ancient, black pooled eyes possessed a darkness like the very universe hid behind them. The ominous blue glow sparked once again.

Chapter 66

Perseathea sprinted through the yard, chasing Masseeia, but after a maze of alleyways, lost the woman. Bending over, she palmed her knees, catching her breath, but just ahead, a flash of black hair darted across a pathway. Perseathea charged back into a run, taking down a parallel alley and twisting its corner, meeting Masseeia head on. The First Commander stumbled to a stop, Palius jostling in her arm.

“Mother!” The girl cried out.

Perseathea hurled her sword into Masseeia’s axe, lobbing the blade to the ground. Pointing her sword at Masseeia’s chest, Perseathea took a step, forcing the woman a step back.

“I’m here, Palius.” Perseathea smiled at her child, then shifted dark eyes to her sister. “Hand her over. Now.”

“You truly believe it’s that easy?” Masseeia taunted, keeping a strong hold on Palius even as she wrestled under her arm. “You’re dimmer than I thought.”

“Mother….” Palius squirmed, shoving against Masseeia’s chest, but this only caused the First Commander to grab the girl by the throat, wringing in until Palius coughed.

“Keep still.” She ordered.

“Don’t worry, Palius.” Perseathea kept her sword ready, eyeing Masseeia. “I’ll kill her if I have to.”

“Ha!” Masseeia scoffed, refusing to give up anymore ground. “You haven’t killed me yet. How many chances have you had now?”

“Compelling point.” Perseathea pressed her sword up under the woman’s chin, “But I think your chances have run out.”

Masseeia dropped her hand from Palius’ throat, but then kicked a roundhouse into Perseathea‘s hand, knocking the sword into the dirt. She grappled back into Palius’ throat, clenching the flesh.

“Now we’re even.”

Perseathea charged a kick into the First Commander‘s gut, tackling her in the dust. Wrestling on top of her, she clawed at the woman, desperate to pry Palius from her right arm. Dust stirred up under the brawl as Masseeia suffocated Palius under a choke hold, fighting off the Queen with left jabs and flailing knees. Realizing her disadvantage, Perseathea pulled back up to her feet, strategizing how to get passed the kicks. Masseeia grinned up at her, knees bent and ready to fire bone breaking kicks, Palius turning red underneath her forearm.

Surging forward again, Perseathea tricked Masseeia into another series of kicks, and this time snatched up the woman’s ankles. Just as Masseeia pulled to free her legs, Perseathea sprung in, busting a fist into the woman’s nose, then jolted back up to her feet. Blood busted and Masseeia, thrown off guard, loosened her hold on Palius.

“Come here!”

Perseathea reached for Palius, but Masseeia shook off the blow, recovering into another death squeeze on the child. Her choke hold crushed Palius into coughs. She couldn’t breathe. Squirming, she clawed tiny fingers at Masseeia’s forearm, gasping as her face turned purple. At that, Perseathea slid to her knees, straddling the woman.

Masseeia thrashed up, busting her forehead into Perseathea‘s lip. Knocking her backward. Letting loose of Palius, Masseeia jolted up, lunging into the Queen. The two women knocked back into the dirt, Perseathea struggling beneath the First Commander.

Palius stumbled to her feet, but didn’t manage a single step before Masseeia realized and shot a hand out, clamping into Palius’ ankle. The child pulled down onto her chin and Masseeia spider crawled fingers up the child’s back, tangling them into her hair. Now, the First Commander straddled Perseathea and held Palius. Palius floundered in place, her face bright pink as she scratched elfin hands over the hand knotting in her hair.

Perseathea stared up at her daughter, straining against the two knees pinning her shoulders to the ground.

“Look what I’ve got.” Masseeia said, nearly singing.

The Queen bucked her hips, tossing Masseeia forward, then yanked the left arm out from under the woman. At the crack of her elbow, Masseeia tilted off balance to her left, crashing onto her back. Loosing her hold on Palius. Perseathea twisted over, pinning the woman to the ground, head butting her.

“Perseathea!” Bartamius shouted, rushing up from behind with Tythose.

“Grab Palius….” The Queen sputtered out, still pinning her dazed sister down.

Bartamius swooped Palius into his arms, the child still red faced and coughing. Perseathea lifted to her feet, pulling Masseeia up by an arm. The warrior opted to stand still since she was weaponless, so smearing the blood from her nose, she instead sneered at the two men.

“Tythose,” Queen Perseathea began, “take her, will you?” She shoved her sister over to the soldier.

“Bartamius?” Tythose kept his blade at Masseeia’s face.

Bartamius handed Palius to Perseathea, then yanked Masseeia’s arms behind her back, tethering them together. Weaving out of the way as she attempted to head butt into his chin, Bartamius grinned. “Got ya.”

Finished tying the woman’s wrists, he shoved her over to Tythose, who held her by the arm, sword ready.

“Have you seen Askca?” Perseathea asked, Palius hugging her neck. “Last I knew she was fighting Cyrenna, but-”

“I haven’t seen her.” Bartamius looked around, making certain the battle wasn’t closing in on them. Satisfied, he pulled his sister in under his arm. “Perseathea, you have to get out of this fortress. You know that.”

“And you know I’m not leaving.”

“I know. I know. But let me find Askca.”

Perseathea sighed, palming Palius’ head into her neck. “Get my daughters and the braves out of here.”

“And then?”

“And then I‘ll get myself out. But not until I know they are safe and the Amazons are claiming victory.”

Lifting Palius from Perseathea’s arms, Bartamius shook his head. “That’s the best I’m going to get, isn’t it?”

Perseathea eyes brightened. “You know it is.”

Just as Bartamius leaned in to give his sister a last hug, a scuffle busted out behind them. Perseathea spun around, standing in front of Bartamius and Palius to shield her child.

Masseeia now stood with Tythose’s sword, the blade stiff at his throat, his palms up in surrender.

“You really thought this worm of a man could hold me?” She asked, backing Tythose up.

Perseathea turned back to Bartamius. “I’ll get Tythose. Get my daughters as far from this fortress as you can.”

Bartamius nodded, turning on his heel with Palius.

“Oh Perseathea,” Masseeia sang, pulling her sword back from Tythose, tempting him, “the predicaments you get yourself into.”

Tythose, knowingly out matched, took a desperate fisted swing at Masseeia, but the woman smoothly dodged it, instead heaving her blade back around to slash his neck open. He ducked, narily missing the cut. Taking a few hunched steps back, he raised back into posture with Masseeia’s sword point a hand length’s from his face. He glanced to the Queen for help.

“Go to Bartamius.” She answered his gaze.

He nodded and ran.

Perseathea pulled her own sword, but tossed it to the ground, instead lifting her hands for combat. “Let’s finish this.”

Masseeia cocked a satisfied eyebrow, her sword still firm in hand. Swinging into a kick, Perseathea busted Masseeia’s palm, hurling her sword to the dirt. Masseeia hesitated, looking at her empty hand. Then lunged. At the woman’s onset, Perseathea ducked, clenching into Masseeia’s hips and dumping her head over heels onto her back. Masseeia hopped up with Perseathea spinning around to meet her.

As Perseathea closed in, Masseeia kicked her in the stomach, backing her up. For a moment, the Queen stumbled, but quickly recovered her air. Faking another kick, Perseathea instead smashed a jab into Masseeia’s jaw. Followed by a cross strike. The warrior staggered, the blows nearly costing her balance. Smoothing a hand over her aching jaw, Masseeia gave a cocky grin.

“You still refuse to kill me.”

“I’m not done.” Perseathea flit up quick hands, grabbing the back of Masseeia’s head, busting it into the upswing of her knee. Dazed, Masseeia ripped out of the hold, staggering, blood once again running her lips. Exploiting her sister’s hunched vulnerability, Perseathea jolted another knee into her gut.

Sinking to her knees, Masseeia’s mouth gaped open like a dying fish, her face paling as she wheezed for air.

Kneeling down to her sister, Perseathea asked a question she already knew the answer to. “You won’t stay down, will you?”

Masseeia forced a smirk, shaking her head. Hating it, Perseathea grit her teeth, smashing one last fist into her sister’s face.

Masseeia stared up at the blue afternoon sky, the smell of her own blood in her nose as it trickled the back of her throat. Her face felt numb and she still couldn’t breath.

Perseathea pulled her up by the amulet hanging around her neck. “You shame the Amazons.”

Masseeia stared up at her sister, but her eyes refused to focus. And a moment later, she went black.

Sliding a thumb over the green amulet, Perseathea tangled her fingers in its leather twine, snapping it from her sister’s neck. Palming the stone like a precious jewel, she leaned over Masseeia, pulling the First Commander’s sword from the dirt.

Just then, footsteps ushered up from behind. Sword in hand, Perseathea sprung up, spinning around. Cyrenna stormed her, knocking the Queen back a step. When Perseathea reinforced her balance, Cyrenna stood right on top of her, warmth washing over Perseathea’s hand. Cyrenna slumped into her with a raspy moan. The warrior had run herself through, sinking the sword deep through her own stomach to protrude her back. Perseathea palmed the warrior’s shoulder, easing her slowly off the blade.

Cyrenna stood in a daze, eyes bulging as the blade pulled out crimson with her blood. Her axe slid from her fingers, dropping to the dust, as her gaze floated up to meet Perseathea's. The two held there till Cyrenna finally went limp. A twinge of guilt pricked Perseathea's heart as she laid Cyrenna in the dust. Kneeling over the dead Amazon, she stared on the bloody gash in Cyrenna’s stomach, whispering.

“You didn’t have to die for her.”

Chapter 67

"Askca!" A man’s voice came up behind me. I turned just as Tythose grabbed my hand.

“Follow me.”

I ran behind the soldier, darting into the maze of edifices. Once we were out of sight, he settled us between two of the stables still standing. Sweat and blood spattered his face as he sucked air into his rosy cheeks, checking down one end of the wall to the next.

“Bartamius is looking for you.”

“What about Palius? Did the Queen get-”

“Bartamius has her.” He whispered in close to me. “He told me to round up the braves and then we’re breaking back to Pahll-sus.”

I sat a moment, waiting for more details. When none came, I shrugged. "Alright.”

“You’re to go with us.” He said in a tone implying I knew this. “That’s why Bartamius is looking for you.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I have to find Sara first.”

“But it’s your Queen’s order.”

“Tythose,” I glanced around, checking to be sure we were still alone, “I’m not leaving without her.”

“I’m certain Perseathea can find your friend-”

“I’m not leaving either one of them.” I cut him off. “It’s my fault the Queen is here in the first place. You’ll have to go without me.”

“If you stay here,” he took a firm grip of my arm, his eyes cautioning, “you’ll come under Gragore’s power.”

“I’ve seen Gragore’s power.” I pried his fingers from me. “He is no more than a man. Barely that. He is no different than any other when I have a blade in my hand. He ran just as soon as these Amazons-”

“He ran to his witch, Askca.” Tythose interrupted. “She is his power. Yes, he is only a man, but with the Dark Oracle at his side he becomes much more. He’s now a feared and dreaded warlord. A rapist. A murderer. That witch conjured this very day. ”

“Flesh is flesh to my blade, no matter who it is.”

“She conjures still more, Askca. Your blade can’t cut through destiny. She has given him the power of fate.”

I lifted my chin, feeling insulted. “And I have a fate.”

“And she is a seer, Askca. She must see you tangled in this dark web or she wouldn’t have summoned him after you.”

I rubbed my forehead. “I won’t leave.”

Tythose paused, shaking his head. “Then go, but never for a moment forget his purpose for you. More depends on you than merely your own people. The lives of many more innocents hang in the balance. Gragore is a destroyer to many.”

I swallowed, realizing for the first time that several lands would be affected by this day’s fate. Tythose leaned in, implicating that he knew more than he intended to reveal.

“Gragore cannot rise.”

“He won’t.” I assured him, uncertain if I could fulfill the words I had just given oath to.

Casting another glance down the wall, Tythose went back to his words. “Bartamius is gathering the braves in the stable furthest down this row.” He gestured with his eyes. “If your chance comes, meet us there.”

I grasped Tythose by the elbow, and he grabbed mine in return. We shook in respect.

“I will,” I squeezed his arm, “but do not wait for me. Get Palius out of here.” Tythose nodded and I slipped up from our hold, lifting. “And get yourself out of here. Alive.”

“You as well, young Amazon.”

I turned from him, leaving the stable to sprint down the alleyway, the battle waiting at its’ end. As the sunlight of afternoon fell on my face, the scent of blood wafted heavy over me. Heavier than just moments before.

Cold crawled down Saratiese’s throat, pricking like icy fingers into her lungs. Before the blue haze could possess her, she coughed the frosty air back up, trying to breathe, to run, but the witch’s black eyes drained her.

“Stay….Stay….” The word haunted into her mind over and over.

A tingle splintered through Saratiese’s body, icing her into submission. Heavy. Stinging. She fought to take a step, but her leg refused, dragging like a dead limb. The witch’s spell paralyzed her. The Dark Oracle, skulking like a red robed specter, levitated forward, closing the gap between them. Saratiese could feel her energy depleting, sinking her feet to the floor like rocks dropped to a lake bottom. Forcing the last of her strength, she pushed, somehow ripping loose from the heavy cold.

Snapping loose of the witch’s curse, she could still feel the cold fingers pulling at her back. With her breath flooding back, she threw herself into a sprint down the stairwell. She spiraled down the winding steps, the stones blurring beneath her bare feet. The white breath left her, warmth coming back into her chest. Her side burned as she skimmed a hand down the winding stone wall, guiding herself in a race down the stairwell.

When the procession of steps ended, Saratiese found the bottom foyer empty, and breathed out a sigh of relief. She slowed her pace, cautious to who else might be around. Sneaking on light feet, she ran fingers through her brunette locks, sweeping them from her eyes. A series of chamber doors loomed down the corridor in front of her. She had no idea which one might lead out.

Tip toeing, she passed each door, careful of every sound. Approaching the end of the hall, she snuck a peek around the corner. Empty. Every soldier must be at battle. Running through a succession of walkways, her footsteps whispered under the flicker of torchlight until a glimpse of daylight beckoned to her from ahead. A warm breeze snaked across her shoulders, and as the hall turned she found herself at one end of a balcony overlooking the yard. The clatter of battle attacked her ears, loud and angry, bringing the stink of gore with it.

Realizing she was exposed, she dropped to her knees. Crawling to the nearest pillar, she peered down, searching for Askca. For the Queen. For her friends. A swarm of red and yellow clad Amazons tangled into the mass of black armor, and she realized at once she did not know any of them. Glimpsing across the walkway, Saratiese moved her search to a way down, but the balcony offered no steps. Jumping to her feet, she launched into another run.

She turned her thoughts to Askca and kept searching a way to the yard. Sweeping a last look over her shoulder, she determined. She wasn’t being followed. Turning back, Saratiese saw a flash of black blocking her path. With no time or space to stop, she ran straight into the barrel-chested man. He stood as solid as a wall, propelling her backward to the stone floor in a jarring thud.

“She told me you were coming,” Gragore smirked down on her, “and she’s always right.”

Saratiese began shuffling in reverse, but Gragore slid a silver dagger before she could pull back up to her feet. The silver shined at her, glinting like the ones in the chamber she‘d just escaped. The warlord prowled into a crouch, grappling after her.

“No!”

She shrieked, but he lynched into her throat, cutting off her sound. Eyes bugging, she wheezed in thin breaths around his iron fingers.

“I won’t let you take this from me. She tells me I shouldn’t kill it,” Gragore whispered as if the witch might overhear him, “but I won’t risk it.”

Saratiese clawed at his fingers, pulling for breath. Jerking her face in close to his, he twisted his fingers tighter on her throat.

“You both have to die.”

Saratiese’s heart fluttered as the silver flashed down. Heat exploded her stomach and her mouth dropped open in a gasp. His fingers dropped from her. She fumbled her shaking hands around the dagger’s hilt, the warmth of her own blood spurting her fingers. Gragore snickered, a look of fascination creasing his features as he stood up. Saratiese looked up at him, trying to focus on his blurring face.

“The Rival is dead.”

Saratiese wheezed for breath, but there was none. It was racing away with her blood. Gragore looked down on her, sick excitement lighting his face. Ogling her pain. Enjoying it. After a few moments, he turned his back, leaving her to bleed out.

Fighting through shallow breaths, Saratiese lifted her head, looking down at her stomach. Bright red blared back at her from beneath the silver dagger. The crimson smeared her hands, trickling down her hip to the stone floor. Her breath sucked away, growing harder to find by the moment. She felt like boulders were crushing her chest. Her stomach. Squaring her jaw, she forced her trembling fingers to the bloody dagger. The baby is dead…. The baby is dead….

Gritting her teeth, she clenched the sticky hilt, and in one agonizing thrust, pulled. Fire ravaged through her stomach and she screamed, dropping the dagger to the stone in a clink. Ragged breath sped her chest, shallow and fast, and her eyes squeezed shut, begging the pain to stop. Sweat surfaced her skin, hot tears welling up. Heavy sleep floated into her head, beckoning.

With all of her fading strength, she rolled onto her side, forcing herself up onto her elbows. Then her knees. She swaggered over the blood on the stone beneath her, her eyes refusing to clear as she fumbled after the crimson tinted blade on the floor. Grasping it, she hunched up, leaning into the wall. In a sideways glance, she spotted a hanging banner. Faltering, she clasped desperate fingers into it, dropping with her weight to rip it down. Sweeping the material around her middle, she tied off the blood flow.

The balcony, the sunlight, and the sounds of the battle below faded in and out.

Stumbling, Saratiese finally made it to the set of steps leading down to the yard. The moment she floundered onto the edge of the battle, she heard her name.

Chapter 68

"Sara!" Relieved, I sprinted to the girl, pulling her into an embrace. “I was so worried for you! I‘ve been looking everywhere….”

My words dropped off as I noticed Sara’s paling face. She looked ghostly white and misted in sweat, despite the tepid afternoon. She offered me a weak smile, wobbling off balance and clutching at her middle. It was only then that my eyes traveled down. A purple banner swaddled her, blood staining the material and seeping through to her fingers. My stomach dropped like a hot rock.

"Oh gods…." I swept her up into her arms. Fires surrounded us, smoke choking the air as I hurdled through the packed yard. My feet slipped in the red mud puddles as I cut past the soldiers and the fighting to reach the same wall Tythose had taken me. Once there, I slid Saratiese down, easing her against the wall. Lifting the girl’s hand form the banner, my mouth dropped open. Blood sopped the cloth heavy, still trickling through, staining my own hands red.

Hot anger turned my stomach. “Which of them did this?”

"Gra… gore." Saratiese strained out in a shallow whisper. “To kill… the baby.”

At those words, fury grabbed me, turning my knuckles white. Every muscle pulled rigid, and I knew what I had to do. I smoothed the sweaty hair away from her moist forehead.

“Tythose will take you to Pahll-sus.”

"Come with me." She grabbed my arm, her blue eyes glassy. Pleading.

“I will come…” I put a hand to hers, “after.”

“Please Ask-”

"Sara, you’re stabbed too deep. It can‘t wait.”

“I won‘t…” she dropped her touch, averting her eyes from me, “won’t leave-”

“You will leave me!” I palmed her cheeks, forcing her to look at me. “You stay here and you’ll die. This baby will die."

"This baby is…” she wheezed, “already dead."

“You don’t know that. Don’t say that.” I slid my arms back under her, preparing to lift, but the girl forced me away with a weak hands. “I’m getting you out of here.”

“No.”

I settled her back against the wall. “What?”

Saratiese slumped away from me, tightening her arms around her belly as she winced. “I’m dying. Just leave me….”

“I‘m done talking about this.” Shuffling Saratiese into my hold again, I pulled up to my feet, staring down to the battle at the end of the alleyway as she bled in my arms. “You aren’t dying today, Sara.”

“Isn’t that sweet?” A voice assaulted us from behind us. Right away something smashed into the back of my head and I tumbled forward, thrown off, pain thundering through to my eyes. Warmth suddenly oozed in my hair and down my neck. I staggered another step, loosing my balance and dropping Saratiese. Toppling down on top of her, my eyes hazed, my mind blurring. I could taste the dirt gritting my lips. Scratching my cheek. The ooze in my hair dribbled from the back of my head and sideways down my cheek. Between the pain and my sight blurring, I wasn’t certain what it was till I put a finger to it, and the tip came back red. Sleeping in and out, I forgot where I was… and dropped into black.

Saratiese crawled a few paces, hot pain flashing her stomach, wondering what had happened. She settled onto her side, easing back onto an elbow to check on Askca, but instead found Masseeia. The First Commander looked down on her with wicked eyes, paralyzing her under the intimidating glare.

“Looks like she was wrong.” Masseeia’s lips twisted with a grin. “You will die today.” Bending down, she yanked Askca up, tossing her over a shoulder. “You came here to die. You all came here to die.”

Masseeia thrashed a kick into Saratiese’s wounded stomach, splattering the girl’s blood back over her boot.

Chapter 69

Head pounding, I tried to open my eyes. The light cut in severe, hurting me. A smoky breeze stung past, tingling through the mash of blood in my hair. I couldn’t remember what happened… or where I was, I just knew my head was throbbing. Straining, I forced a squint, my eyes refusing to focus, but the smell of horses and burning hay stirred my senses. I vaguely remembered seeing one of the stables burning.

I shook my head, hoping to throw the ache from it, and as I did, I noticed something moving. It blurred in with the surrounding colors and shapes and I couldn‘t clear it up. Ignoring the tenderness cursing my eyes, I pushed them to open the rest of the way. My sight forsaking me, the movement before me resembled no more than a moving smudge. Giving up, I let my sore eyes shut again.

“You’re awake.”

The familiar voice rushed over me like cold water. Flashing my eyes open, Masseeia’s vague frame cleared, standing behind a black horse.

“I feared I would be riding out of here with a corpse.” She shuffled something into a leather purse hanging at the steed’s flank.

I stared, still coming out of my fog. After a few deep breaths drew me out, I realized I was tethered, arms pulled back to a post.

“Riding…?” I repeated under my breath.

“The battle rages out there, young warrior, and I doubt I’ve chose the victorious side.” The First Commander walked over to me, leaning into my pillar. “So, I’m galloping out of here with the prize.”

“What prize?” I questioned, still having trouble focusing.

“You.”

“But….” I tried to force the pain off my eyes. “You can’t just ride off with me.”

“Oh really?” Masseeia leaned her shoulder into mine. “And why not?”

I swallowed, dreading my own words. “I won‘t go.”

“Don’t be confused, Askca.” Masseeia drew back, strolling over to her horse to resume packing. “I’m not asking.”

A lump rose up in my throat. I couldn’t let Masseeia take me out of the fortress. There’s no telling what her plans for me were and I might never again see-

“Sara!” The name shot out of my mouth the moment I remembered.

“Ah… yes.” The woman paused in satisfaction. “I almost forgot.”

Fear blistered through me. Masseeia’s sneer testified that her next words would be cutting, and the thought of how dark they might run terrified me. I was scared of them. Terrified.

“What about her?” I asked, afraid to know.

Masseeia kept packing the saddlebags. “Saratiese, Saratiese, Saratiese….”

“What?” I snapped, my cheeks burning under the wait. Masseeia smoothed a palm up and down her horse’s back, taking her time before answering.

“You’re fond of her, aren’t you?”

My mouth went dry. “Where is she?”

“You’re very fond of her from what I‘ve seen.” Masseeia patted her steed, then walked over, twisting a palm partway around my post. “She is a very… sweet girl.”

My jaw clenched. I didn’t like where this was going. If Masseeia was talking this way about Saratiese, then she knew well to hold the girl over my head. Saratiese was my weakness and the First Commander knew it. Even the way her words slimed over Saratiese’s name made my skin crawl. I swallowed, asking again a question I feared the answer to.

“What have you done with her?”

“Seems to me a girl as alluring as Saratiese would have her pick of warriors.” Masseeia leered down at me, provoking. “But you…? You’re so plain. So ordinary in features.”

“Where is she!” I shouted, tired of the games.

Masseeia paused, taunting into a smile, looking me right in the eye. Holding there. Drawing it out. Driving me mad with the wait. “Dead.”

Like a wave, shock and grief hit me, and a cold sweat clenched my face. My stomach tightened. I thought I might vomit.

“What?” I forced out the shaking whisper.

“You heard me.” Masseeia lifted her boot to me, revealing the blood spatter on its’ leather. “I kicked her belly in, spilling half her guts out over my boot.”

As she laughed, I stood trembling against the post. I couldn’t think. Speak. I couldn’t believe this. It didn’t feel real. It reminded me of the day my mother and sister died. That same suffocating feeling hung like a cold rock in my chest. I just wanted to erase the last few moments. Go back in time and banish them. Maybe if I refused them, they’d have to change.

“It’s just as well, young warrior. You seem to attract a lively horde of murderers.” Pacing back to her horse, Masseeia put a hand on the steed’s back, flashing me a brutal grin. “Had she not died today, it would have come soon enough. Love dies when it comes near you. Have you not noticed?”

Hate surged me, burning like liquid fire in my veins, as I glared a hole through Masseeia’s head. “I’ll cut your heart out.”

“Cut my heart out?” Masseeia mocked, walking back to me. She clawed into my chin, fingers bruising. “You’d never find it. Not after what your mother did to me.”

The air went like ice between us and I pulled out of her hand.

“But today I’m taking what is mine. I’m riding out of here, stealing the prize out from under Perseathea and Gragore. And then, I’ll peddle you to the drunkards in the taverns. Sale your little lust for coin.”

Masseeia stared at me, waiting for a response. Begging me to defy her. I could see it in her dark eyes. Masseeia knew her dominance over me, she relished it, and my struggle would only encourage her. Once she realized I had nothing to say, she crossed her arms, going on.

“And once seed is forced into you, you will bare the consecrated for me. You like that?”

“I’ll run.” I clawed at the post, trying to unfetter myself. “I’ll run myself through before I’ll-”

“You’ll do what I tell you to do.”

The First Commander cooled, pulling up behind me, pressing her body against my back. Wrapping one arm around my chest and the other around my neck, the warrior bruised me into the post, stinging my chest wound. Crushing my breath. We held there for a few moments with Masseeia making sure I knew her authority just as well as she did.

“Good girl.” She said hot in my ear, loosening her hold. Unable to move, I watched her dirty hands cut my tethers loose, but before I could even think to resist, Masseeia swiped both my hands behind my back again, bruising my wrist bones together under her iron palm. She then turned me, put a knee in my back, and pinned my sore chest against the post as she retied my wrists.

Turning me around, the First Commander ground the back of my bleeding head into the wood. I winced, my fresh wound mangling into the splinters. Holding my throat, she stared at me as if she were memorizing my features, taking an inventory of them.

“Your name curses you, Askca. It curses your bloodline and it curses everyone you love.” She tightened her grip on my air. “Now you have been chosen to suffer.”

Masseeia then grabbed a hold of my elbow, forcing me over to the waiting steed.

“You can’t watch me every moment of the day.” I warned, knowing well the foolishness in mouthing off to the First Commander but, as usual, unable to control it. She forced me up onto the horse in an unbalanced heap.

“And I can’t listen to you garble on all day.” She pulled up behind me on the horse. Yanking a bind into my mouth, she gagged it back into a tight, raw split across my face.

“Rival me again and I’ll break both your ankles.”

Chapter 70

I glared at the stable doors, my chest tight. Heart racing. The horse bustled beneath me, shuffling, aching to charge. My arms pulled behind my back, hurting, and my tongue soured with the taste of my gag. But worst of it all, Masseeia pressed into me from behind, wrapping a solid arm around my waist. The First Commander…. Those three words stung my mind, sparking a fearful memory. The trials of the First. I’d been a witness to the competition. It pitted Amazon warriors against one another in a battle for the title of First Commander.

Masseeia displayed undeniable blood thirst, cutting down her own sisters. Her friends. Snapping bones and slicing flesh. Hostile she sparred, tearing into the women like a rabid dog. There was no warrior in all of GarTaynia that could rival her. Not even Laidea. Only Queen Perseathea sparred superior. I stared at the stable doors, trying not to think on the bloody trials, or the things Masseeia was capable of.

“And it begins.” She palmed my stomach, holding me to her, skirting her black hair across my cheek. “Yah!”

She kicked the steed, surging us forward. The doors busted open in a spray of splinters, unleashing us from the stable. Fires burned across the yard, shining orange all around me, choking me in the billows of smoke. The horse galloped, zigzagging the flames in a panic, jostling me off balance. My arms behind my back, I grappled to hold on, but realized… there was no one there to hold on to. Masseeia was gone.

The horse sped ahead, hurdling the fires and dodging the swarm of people around me. I bit into my salty gag, clenching my thighs into the animal, but a sword slashed us from beneath, spooking the steed into a buck. I tumbled off its’ back, pummeling into the dirt. Crashing into my shoulder, I rolled a couple paces. Lifting my chin, I looked back to the stable. Malaia stood battling Masseeia behind the busted door.

“She was in there with us.” I muffled to myself under the gag. Fear for Malaia shot through me like lightening. Malaia was no match for Masseeia. Not even close. I crawled to my knees, scrambling back to the stable.

Malaia straddled Masseeia, choking the First Commander with a noose. I couldn’t be sure, but by the look of it Malaia had thrown the noose over Masseeia’s head just as our horse charged, ripping the woman backward to the ground.

“Get the Queen!” Malaia shouted as I neared the threshold.

Red faced and straining, Malaia knew well her fate against Masseeia, and also that Queen Perseathea was the only one who could match the First Commander.

I nodded to Malaia, but soon realized I couldn‘t take off into the battle with my hands tied back. I’d be slaughtered within the minute. Desperate, I looked around for a way to cut the ropes.

Masseeia lynched forward, tumbling Malaia off of her. Pinning the woman to the ground, the First Commander’s face blazed red from behind the suffocating noose. She clamped her hand over Malaia’s mouth, mashing the warrior’s head into the dirt, holding her down while loosening the noose. Gasping for breath, Masseeia balled her fist, unleashing several punches into Malaia’s face.

“Yes Askca,” Masseeia taunted, glancing at me, “go get the Queen. Your friend here needs all the help she can get.”

Ignoring the First Commander, I crouched into the stable door’s broken hinge, frantically bobbing to fray my ropes. As I did, Masseeia and Malaia wrestled over the hay strewn dirt, misting blood as they tossed into one another. I bounced on, heaving my weight into the hinge, trying to focus. Trying to block out the sound of the bone crunching strikes Malaia was eating in my place.

Masseeia cracked another punch into Malaia’s jaw, sending the warrior flying into a stall divider. The wood busted, crumbling down on top of Malaia. Masseeia lumbered over.

After what felt like forever, my ropes slackened at my wrists. Jumping up, I yanked the gag out of my mouth, barreling into Masseeia from behind. But the First Commander twisted around, using my momentum to bust a knee into my gut. With the breath tugged from my lungs, I dropped, gasping. I wanted to get up, but I couldn’t breathe.

Suddenly, a plank splintered over Masseeia’s head, knocking the woman to the dirt with a thud. Malaia raised the plank again as I scrambled out of the way.

“Get Queen Perseathea!” Malaia shouted again, splitting her timber over Masseeia’s back as the woman crouched to stand. “Now!”

I swallowed, not wanting to leave my friend, but knowing there was no other way. Malaia and I couldn’t handle Masseeia. Not even together. I pulled to my feet, nodding just in time to see Masseeia batter her own plank across Malaia’s cheek. Warm blood splattered across my face as the woman dropped.

Now, Masseeia white knuckled her bloody plank, eyeballing me. I took a step back, my mouth drying like sand. Masseeia stepped over Malaia, following me.

Chapter 71

Hippolyta rushed Kia-Maie and Tilliandre through the battle, whisking the children passed the bloody barrage of panicked horses, slinging swords, and a hail storm of arrows. Searching for the chosen stable, they hurdled a scatter of dead bodies, smoke choking in around them.

“This way!” Hippolyta shouted over the clamor, shepherding the two braves behind the armory and down a row of living quarters.

Kia-Maie and Tilliandre ran under Hippolyta’s guiding fingers till they were deep into the alleyway shade. Spotting the line of stables at the path’s end, Hippolyta sprinted the girls into the first of the three. Pushing inside, she closed the door behind them to just a crack.

“Wait for Tythose.” She said, peering at the children in the dark. “Do not leave this stable.”

Kia-Maie wrung her smoke smudged hands, staring up at the warrior. “Are you coming back for us?”

“Of course I am.” Hippolyta cupped a palm over each girl’s cheek, then drifted her attention to Tilliandre. “I’m going for your sister so she’ll know you’re safe. I‘ll be back.”

Once outside, Hippolyta pulled her sword, sprinting back down the alley as scorching arrows slashed the blue sky overhead. Staring up after their smoldering orange streaks, she watched them chase past her and into the stables she just left. Swallowing, she forsook the apprehension, and put the children in the hands of the goddess. Jolting out of the shadows, she sped back into the fighting.

“Hippolyta!” Kelius ran up, grabbing her friend by the arm. “Did you find her?”

“She’s in one of the last remaining stables with Kia.”

Kelius gave a relieved sigh. “Where’s Laidea?”

“I lost her after we fought Cyrenna.” Hippolyta shrugged. “I’m sure she’s looking for Queen Perseathea. Come on, I’ll take you to Tilliandre.”

But before they could turn, Kelius and Hippolyta caught sight of Bartamius. Sword in hand, he brawled with a gang of soldiers, Palius joggling on his hip.

“The girl is worth coin!” They shouted.

“Hand her over or we’ll cut her loose of you!”

The men hurled their swords into Bartamius, but he stood his ground. Slicing his blade against their attacks, he gripped Palius tight under his elbow, like a baby bird beneath its mother’s wing.

Hippolyta and Kelius hurried to aid Bartamius, rushing the soldiers with unexpected blades. Two of the men fell victim to the surprise attack, dropping where they stood. The third, finding himself outnumbered, thought better of it and ran.

“Thanks.” Bartamius sighed in heavy relief, lugging Palius over to Hippolyta. “Look, she’s not safe with me.”

Hippolyta sheathed her sword then coddled the girl, wiping smoke smudges from her cheeks. Palius looked at Hippolyta with glassy eyes and spoke.

“She’s not going to live through this.”

“Who’s not going to live through this?”

The girl’s lips began to quiver, and she kept silent, instead hugging into Hippolyta’s neck. The warrior smoothed a palm over the girl’s blond curls.

“She told me the same thing.” Bartamius shrugged. “I can’t get her to tell me who she‘s talking about.”

Kelius nudged Hippolyta in the ribs. “Let’s get her to the stables. She‘s a sitting duck out here.”

“Is Tythose there yet?” Bartamius questioned, smearing the sweat from his upper lip.

Hippolyta balanced Palius onto her hip, then drew her sword again. “No.”

“What about Perseathea?”

Both Kelius and Hippolyta shook their heads, prompting Bartamius’ chin to lower in disappointment.

“If you see her,” he said, “tell her to meet at the first of the three stables. Tythose is readying to take the two daughters and your braves back to Pahll-sus. My sister would do well to go with them.”

“Are you coming as well?” Kelius asked, axe still in hand.

“I think the time for that has passed. I have too much to fight here. But I’ll meet you there when this is done.” Kelius grasped Bartamius by the elbow, and he by hers, and the two shook in respect.

“If we find Queen Perseathea,” she said, “we’ll give her your message.”

He smiled. “She won’t listen.”

Kelius glanced at Hippolyta, then mirrored Bartamius’ smile, dropping her arm from his. “We know.”

Seeing the flames from paces away, Hippolyta and Kelius rushed to the stable, heaving the door open. The flames atop were small, and only eating at the corner of the edifice, but the smoke inside already fogged the air.

“Tilly?” Kelius perked her ears for her young sister’s voice, walking into the shadows of the stable.

The horses shuffled and snorted from their dark stalls, spooked by the imposing fire looming above. Palius lifted her head from Hippolyta‘s shoulder, staring into the dark.

“Something isn’t right.” Hippolyta whispered, her steps cautious.

Muffled grunts sounded from ahead. Kelius and Hippolyta stopped, listening. The mumblings of the battle outside seeped into their quiet. Guarded, the two warriors resumed their steps. A creak sounded overhead. Both Hippolyta and Kelius stared up into the rafters. Smoke hovered there, but revealed no suspect. Hippolyta’s attention drew to a far corner of the stable, settling her on a post in the distant dark. Sketchy outlines began to form there, silhouettes merging out of the shadows, but the warrior couldn’t be certain of whose.

Thud!

Something dropped from the rafters, nearly toppling down on top of the two women. The body laid face down in the dirt, as still as stone. Kelius white knuckled her axe, pushing Hippolyta back so that she could protect Palius. Crouching down to the body, Kelius stretched her hand out. Prodding it by a shoulder, she flopped the body onto its’ back.

Kelius gasped. “Malaia…?”

Malaia’s eyes loomed wide open. Blank and empty. Dead. Her face dotted with blood and her jaw slung to the side, jagged and open. Out of place.

And the muffled grunts came back. Kelius lifted to her feet, axe ready. As the two warriors crept toward the silhouettes at the post, the grunts grew into a frenzy.

“Oh gods….” Kelius rushed forward, but before she could move more than a few steps, Masseeia dropped from the rafters, landing behind the two silhouettes. Kia-Maie and Tilliandre. The gagged braves stood back to back, bound to the same post. Masseeia pulled two quick swords across their necks.

“You led these baby chicks right to the slaughter, huh Hippolyta?”

Without thought, Kelius lunged, swiping her axe up the middle of Masseeia’s two swords to split their hold on the braves. As the two women battled, Hippolyta dropped Palius to her feet, hustling her to hide in a horse stall. She then ran to the Tilliandre and Kia-Maie.

Her fingers toiled over their ropes, but they proved to be a never ending jumble. Before she could loosen Tilliandre, the child squealed under her gag. Hippolyta glanced over her shoulder to find Kelius hunching over one of Masseeia’s swords. Kelius’ axe dropped to the dirt. Shoving the woman back off the sword, Masseeia flashed her eyes to Hippolyta. Grinning.

“You’re next.”

At the end of Masseeia’s words, Kelius slumped into the dirt. Dead. Hippolyta went back to her panicking braves, fumbling her fingers over the knots, trying to free the girls. Sawing her blade over the ropes, she tried desperately to cut them, but they knotted too thick and tight. Her sword could not force deep enough, quick enough.

Tilliandre wailed under her gag, red faced and crying as she thrashed against her ropes, distraught over her dead sister. Kia-Maie stood bug eyed and silent on the other side, bound up to her shoulders.

Feeling a sharp point prick in between her shoulder blades, Hippolyta’s skin iced over. Masseeia was behind her. Ripping Tilliandre from the post, she shoved the girl.

“Run!”

Tilliandre ran, ripping off her gag then diving to her knees in the dust at Kelius’ side.

Before Hippolyta could determine her next move against Masseeia, she felt the blade tip lift from her back. Without questioning the moment, she shot up, rounding the post to protect Kia-Maie. Turning, Hippolyta knew before she spotted Masseeia why the woman had eased off. Tilliandre. The brave sat so caught up in her weeping that she failed to notice the First Commander approaching. Masseeia plucked the child up by a shoulder, dragging her kicking and screaming away from Kelius’ body.

Hippolyta fumbled back into Kia-Maie’s tangle, watching Tilliandre out of the corner of her eye, her mind racing. If I can get Kia free, then rush Masseeia, Tilliandre and Palius can run. As Kia-Maie’s rope finally untangled, Hippolyta ushered the brave toward the stall where Palius hid. Gripping her sword, she looked to the First Commander, who stood grappling to hold onto a frantic Tilliandre.

The brave’s chest heaved like a bullfrog‘s, her arms flailing, eyes begging Hippolyta for help. Without a word, Masseeia swiveled Tilliandre around, jabbing a sword through the child’s belly.

“Join your sister.” Masseeia skewered her blade deeper. Tilliandre gasped, blood dribbling her stomach. Masseeia bruised her fingers into the girl’s shoulder, pulling back her bloody blade, then tossed the dying child into the hay.

Chapter 72

“Think you can save the last two little imps?” Masseeia stepped over Tillliandre’s body, pacing in front of Hippolyta. Flaunting into a swing of her two swords, she shined them into continual motion.

“I’ll do what I must.” Hippolyta said, sword ready, trying to hide the tremble in her voice.

Masseeia kept her pacing, swords spinning. “So you’re willing to die?”

“I’ll do what I must.” Hippolyta took a breath, calming the shake in her sweaty hands.

“Ha!” Masseeia snapped, the outburst startling Hippolyta. “So predictable, loyal Hippolyta. Willing to die for one who will never love you in return. Pathetic.”

“Love? What do you mean love?”

“You know what I mean. And you know who I mean. And here you are, willing to die to protect that child curse cowering in that stall.”

Hippolyta flit a nervous glance to the stall where Palius and Kia-Maie crouched, but soon pulled her eyes away, instead searching the stable for an escape for the two girls. As it stood now, the First Commander blocked the only way out.

Masseeia stopped her two swords, cutting them both toward Hippolyta‘s face. “Do you think Laidea will cry over your body, longing for the woman who died in place of her fate child?”

The tension iced the air between the two women, and Hippolyta gave no answer. Masseeia shook her head with a grin.

“I guess you do.” Dropping both swords, Masseeia sprung up, grabbing a rafter. “Sad.”

Hippolyta’s heart surged but before she could respond, Masseeia swung forward, kicking her in the chest. Stumbling back a few paces, Hippolyta regained her footing just as Masseeia dropped to the dirt, racing toward the stall holding Kia-Maie and Palius. The two braves squealed, running out from their hiding place, but Masseeia snatched Kia-Maie like a snake plucking up a field mouse. Hippolyta grabbed Palius, shoving the girl behind her.

“You can’t save this one.” Masseeia’s eyes burned on Hippolyta as she twisted Kia-Maie’s neck, pitching the child to the dirt. “Next.”

Hippolyta lunged, swinging her sword at the First Commander’s head, but before the swordplay could go further, light flooded the stable.

“Palius!”

Palius gasped, running past Masseeia to the doorway where the Queen and Laidea stood.

“Finally come to kill me, Perseathea?” Masseeia jumped up, grabbing another rafter, swinging herself atop a stall divider and onto a waiting horse. The mount spooked as she landed, bucking up with Masseeia grappling to hang on. Before the hooves hit the ground, Bartamius sprung from the high rafters, toppling down onto Masseeia, crashing them both into the hay.

Light busted in from the back of the room, spilling Tythose, Valasca, Lathenia, and Belsiphiny into the stable. Using the distraction, Perseathea and Laidea hurried to aide Bartamius, pinning Masseeia down.

After a few rough moments, Laidea and Queen Perseathea lugged the First Commander to her feet. Masseeia struggled in their hold, flailing and cursing. Bartamius swung a fist into her face. Unfazed, the woman spit her blood onto his boot, bellowing out more curses. The man struck her several more times, the last of these being a solid shot, turning Masseeia quiet. The First Commander’s head dropped to her chest.

Perseathea let loose of the woman, leaving her to hang in Laidea’s arms, then swooped Palius up, pressing the child into her chest.

"Are you alright?" She asked, feeling the concerns only a mother could understand. Palius gave her mother a reassuring nod. Perseathea looked the child over anyway, searching bruises and cuts.

"I’m alright.” Palius lit up. “Hippolyta saved me."

The Queen smiled, smoothing her daughter's dirty hair from her face. “You’re a good warrior, Hippolyta.” The Queen flit eyes to the woman. “I will not forget this.”

Hippolyta dipped her head in respect. “Thank you, my Queen.”

Slipping Palius to her feet, Perseathea turned back to Bartamius. Gazing on him without words, she pulled him into an embrace as well.

“After all this time….”

“I’ve missed you too.” He whispered, tightening his arms around her. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t see you before all of this. I-”

“No.” Perseathea held him closer. “You did as you could. I will always be grateful.” She leaned back from him, looking up into her brother’s eyes. “For this time, and the last.”

Bartamius smiled, palming Perseathea‘s cheek. After a deep, silent moment, he spoke again. “I can see myself in your face.”

Laidea stepped forward, putting a gentle hand on the Queen’s shoulder. “Perseathea… the battle still rages.”

Running in through the stable’s back door, I breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of everyone waiting inside. Rushing up to the Queen, I hugged her without thinking.

“I’m here.” I said out of breath. “I’d been here sooner but-”

“You’re here now,” she said, holding me, “that’s all that matters.”

Pulling both Palius and I in under her arms, Queen Perseathea glanced to Tythose. “Can you get my daughters out of here?”

He nodded. “We’ll take the horses.”

“You’re a good man.”

“But wait.” I looked to the Queen. “I can’t leave without Sara or… without her body.”

“She’s here.” Tythose said.

My breath stuck in my chest, and I had to force out the word. “What?”

“I found her some time ago, stumbling through the battle.”

“Where is she?”

“Back there.” The soldier motioned to the furthest empty stall. My heart sank in my chest, but determined, I sprinted to the stall. In a mound of hay, she lay there, motionless, soaking in blood. I dropped to my knees, pulling her into my arms.

“Oh gods….” I hugged Saratiese into my chest, feeling the wet on my skin. She felt so lifeless, so heavy.

Valasca knelt next down beside me and I looked to my friend, grief warming inside my chest. “I… I can’t believe she’s gone.”

Valasca’s eyebrows drew together. “She’s not gone.”

“What?”

“She’s not gone,” Valasca put her arm around me, “at least… not yet.”

“It’s time we go.” Tythose called to me and Valasca.

Bringing Saratiese with us, we met back with the others, following Tythose to the horses. Taking the first for himself, he mounted with Palius and Lathenia. Belsiphiny and Valasca took the second, and I took the mustang for me and Saratiese.

Queen Perseathea turned to Hippolyta, motioning for the axe at her hip. Looking at the blade and remembering Kelius, the woman complied, and the Queen brought it to the foot of my horse.

“Make certain Palius gets out of here safe.” She slipped the weapon into my saddlebag.

“I will.”

She took my hand, squeezing it. “Goddess be with you.”

“We’ll meet in Pahll-sus after this is over?” Tythose asked of Bartamius.

“Yes.”

“And you’ll bring Soh-la, and the others?”

Bartamius gripped Tythose by the elbow. “Of course.”

Tythose sat back up in posture, leading our horses into a trot, escorting us out the door and back into the battle.

Bartamius took a deep breath. “Let’s bind her.”

Hippolyta drug Masseeia, still unconscious, over to the nearest beam, propping the woman up as Laidea and Perseathea wrapped a rope several times around the woman’s chest.

When they finished, Perseathea took a step back, standing with her brother. “Are you sure you can do this? She’s our sister. That’s Essicka.”

“That was our sister… once.” Bartamius put an arm around Perseathea, pulling her in. “But the woman standing there now is not Essicka. Not anymore.”

Perseathea pulled away from him, stepping to Masseeia. “Forgive me, Essicka.” She whispered. “But my daughters must be protected.”

Smoke wafted heavier from the rafters now, floating level with their heads. Not a moment later, a portion of burning ceiling crashed into the hay, catching fire.

“We can’t stay here any longer.” Hippolyta pulled up onto one of the frightened horses. “We’ll be trapped.”

“Say a prayer for our dead.” Queen Perseathea said. “We have no time to claim them.”

The flaming hay crackled, scorching higher, nearing where Masseeia stood tied to the post, unaware. Laidea and Perseathea pulled onto their mounts as Bartamius slid the stable doors open. Another portion of fiery ceiling dropped, spooking the horses to shuffle and buck.

“Go!” He shouted.

The Amazons kicked their steed into a gallop, fleeing the burning stable. Bartamius pulled onto his own horse, casting one last glance to Masseeia. Another portion of flaming ceiling crashed between him and the unconscious Amazon. Kicking his steed, he galloped out of the blazing stable, leaving Masseeia to burn with it.

Chapter 73

Tythose busted the three horses into the yard, fusing us into the throng of hate. Soldiers and Amazons passed under us in a torrent of chaos, tumbling at our sides, crushing beneath our steed. Dying steamed the air with its stench of blood and smoke, burning my eyes. With Saratiese unconscious in my arms, I drove my mount, pressing through the thick mob, hurdling the riot of blades swiping at my feet. The hiss of fire sizzling over men’s flesh melded into the fight of thousands to clang loud in my ears… a song of death I would not soon forget. But I held steady, my hands turning white as I gripped the reins, charging wild through the deep of combat. Saratiese bobbed in my arms, nearly slipping from my hold at every turn.

Ahead, Tythose charged, trampling past a swarm of panicked soldiers and over the downed gate. Valasca and Belsiphiny hurdled up it and I followed, my mustang floundering atop the shifty gate as the wood tottered atop the bodies beneath it.

Setting into the field, a rush of cool swept me, cleansing my smoke choked lungs. Thousands swarmed the grassland like wasps, flinging and swinging desperate blades. Blood, fire, and fight seized the grass like a possessor of the land, pulverizing black armor and bones into the dirt.

Tythose led our horses, heading for the trees to Pahll-sus. I thundered on behind the two horses, Saratiese’s blood smearing red in my elbows. Our three steed leapt one dead body after another, slipping in the blood, striving not to falter in the clutter of arms and legs below. Spilt blood plagued the field in a hundred red fingered brooks, the yellow grass swaying in the smoky afternoon wind, tainted red by the blood of crusade.

Storming toward the trees, I leaned into Saratiese, wrapping myself around the girl to hold her steady, then took a last look over my shoulder. The Gragorian fortress clouded in smoke, choking under the bright orange flames devouring its’ mortar. Ashes speckled the breeze, floating down on us like gray snow. The crash of crumbling walls boomed across the field like thunder, tensing me every time. I looked to the trees ahead, our salvation, my heart beating too wildly to be trapped in my body. And it struck me. This wasn’t over for me. I had to go back. As our small company galloped toward the forest edge, I pulled back on my horse, rearing up in a buck.

I shouted after them. “Wait!”

Tythose and Valasca slowed their steed, trotting back to me, matching confusion in their expressions.

“Askca, come on!” Valasca motioned with her arm.

“I can’t do this.” I shook my head, sliding from my horse. Pulling Saratiese down after, I cradled the bloody girl in my arms, offering her up to Valasca and Belsiphiny. Tythose trotted in closer, Palius and Lathenia nuzzled between his arms.

He wiped the gray sweat from his forehead. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t leave.”

“You can’t go back.” Belsiphiny warned, pulling Saratiese into a more secure hold. “Askca, you’ll be killed.”

Ignoring her words, I heaved back onto my mustang. “If I don’t, Sara dies for nothing.”

“But-”

“It means I came here for nothing.”

“But we saved the Queen.” Lathenia hugged into Palius. “That is why we came.”

“No.” I shook my head. “Queen Perseathea is still back there.”

“Askca,” Tythose eyed me, his tone serious, “you know the reason this all began was-”

“I know.” I cut him off. “That’s why I have to go back. This will never end… not until Gragore is dead.”

I could see the worry in Palius’ eyes as she sat with Tythose, and I could tell she didn’t plan to speak, or try to stop me. But her eyes shone with anxiety, and for a reason I couldn’t explain, it overwhelmed me. I didn’t know if the child could affect me with such emotions because we shared blood, or if it were something more. I only knew that her feelings spoke to me, pressing into me like a corporal being. Ours was a spiritual connection turned solid, and so heavy hearted, I felt compelled to temper her concern. I trotted to Tythose, taking my sister’s hand in my own.

“This is not my day to die.” I assured her, speaking the words to comfort myself as well.

She squeezed my hand, the burden lifting from her blue eyes. “This is not your day to die.”

Put at ease by her response, I wondered how much was behind what she said, but I let the thought drift from my mind. There were other things to think on now. More pressing matters. Dropping her hand, I glanced back to Tythose.

“Get them to Pahll-sus. All of them.”

He lifted his chin. “Done.”

As soon as the company disappeared into the trees, I turned back to face the fortress. My destiny. Kicking my steed, I lunged into a gallop, hooves pounding the blazing hot grass. I eyed a Gragorian banner shoveled crooked in the dirt, scorching in flames. It proclaimed the land for Gragore, but now incinerated under the same fires devouring it. Urging my horse near, I dipped, ripping the flag from the ground. Raising the blazing banner, I charged back to the fortress, amber flames slivering over my head. I would take this fortress for my people. For Queen Perseathea. For myself.

Daughter of a warrior Queen, I rode into vengeance, an Amazon forsaken by my own name… a name I had never known before this quest. But today, I claimed that name. Received it. Honored it. And by blood I would earn it. A bringer of death, I rode on, Hell riding with me.

"Amazon!"

I charged to the fortress, flames eating over the banner to whip ashes above my head. My beast frothed, its’ coat glistening with blood and sweat, its’ muscles tensing between my thighs. A storm of fire hailed down, raining flames around me, seducing the fires underfoot. Amazon catapults streaked the blue sky with golden balls of flame, proclaiming my arrival.

The smell of blood spoiled in the smoky breezes as horses ran the field wild, naying in panic. Cracking bones. Ripping flesh. The clink and clang of steel on steel. This was the land Chaos. Wickedness surged me, and a sensation of immortality rushed in.

The secret is in death. Fear it not. Live a warrior. Die a warrior. Live on remembered.

I charged my mustang into the shroud of smoke, galloping over the busted gate and back into the center yard. Turning my steed about, I scrutinized the Amazons clashing with black armor. Blood washed the inner walls as if the fortress itself bled. The stone walls cluttered with combat, people brimming over like ants teeming a rotting carcass. Blue and purple banners toppled from high walls, plummeting to the ground to ruin in flames.

The Gragorian Army was falling to the Amazons. Raging fires ate away at the fortress, charring over edifices and crashing them to the dirt. I squinted in the smolder of thick smoke, my throat burning with grit. Feeling invincible, I trotted through the mangle of combat, my mustang’s hooves sinking in the gritty mix of mud and carnage. I held my blazing banner erect, declaring my rivalry with Gragore.

Keeping a vigilant stare, I tread slow, searching the coward. Hunting him. A crash clattered behind me and I spun my mount. The warlord tumbled out from his hiding place, coughing as he batted the soot from his arms. At the sight of him, I became Hate, my soul burning like liquid fire. And our eyes met.

Knowing well my blood lust, and seeing the fall of his men, Gragore sprinted into a wall of smoke, vanishing. I chased in after him. The fog winded in and out between us, my sight refusing to clear. A fleeting glimpse revealed him to me, shoving past soldiers and Amazons alike, fighting to reach the crowded gate. I stalked after him, my banner tilted like a fiery lance. Glimpses of him came and went, running, shoving, and fighting his way through the crowd. Kicking hard into my steed, I came up behind him, chasing on his heels.

Unable to make it to the congested gate, Gragore twisted down an alleyway. Pulling hard on my reins, I followed, heading into the tight pathway. Zigzagging, Gragore stayed just a step ahead, bolting down every twist and turn the inner fortress offered, but soon the power of my mustang could not be escaped. The horse frothed, tackling up behind Gragore, and I pulled back, bucking up the steed. Gragore had run himself into a dead end.

I raised my blazing banner, hurling it like a spear, knocking Gragore square in the chest. The man went down in a flying heap. His greasy hair, along with his garments, lit up with yellow flames. I dropped from my horse, pulling the axe from my saddlebag. Gragore spiraled in the dust beneath me, screeching and howling, batting his charred hands about his smoking head. I kicked him in the gut, tossing him onto his back in the dirt.

“Roll!” I ordered.

He went into a series of rolls, at last mashing out the flames. With smoke still rising from him, the flesh on his arm felt hot and gummy to my touch as I hoisted him to his knees.

“You’re not dying unless it’s by my hand.”

“You can’t kill me,” he coughed, wheezing. “I’m your father. Your own flesh and blood. I made you.”

I snorted. “That means nothing to me.”

“I created you.” He coughed again, somehow still arrogant in even this wounded state. He looked up at me. “Like it or not, young Amazon, you are my daughter.”

He staggered up, wobbling before me, the whites of his eyes peering out from the black ash coating his face. “My daughter.”

“I am the daughter of the great Queen Perseathea.” I proclaimed, lifting my chin. “I claim nothing of your wretched name or your fallen fortress.”

“It doesn’t matter what you claim.” He shook his head as if I were a silly child. “Your own Amazon code forbids you from killing me. You will be forever damned by your gods if you take my life.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

Without another thought, I slashed the warlord across the face, my blade coming down deep on his cheek, cutting into bone, and tossing him sideways to the dirt.

He screamed, cupping his cheek as blood ran his fingers. He scrambled back on all fours, pulling against the wall to lift. I came back at him, blade racing, but he dipped, scurrying around. I spun just in time to catch his boot in my teeth.

I heard the crack inside my head, loud and black. Lips burning, blood filled my mouth. Before I could recover, his other boot swept my feet, dropping me. The warlord wrestled down on top of me, the stink of his burnt flesh choking me, his blood trickling into my eyes. He fought to pin me down, heaving my wrists together, swallowing them up in his grip. Prying the axe from my hand, he stared down on me, his face purple and straining.

“No one can kill the warlord Gragore. Especially not some little girl.” His cocky grin came back as he plucked the blade from my fingers. “Want to know what an axe to the face feels like?”

Before I could respond, he ripped his arm up, the blade glinting in the smoke above me. I sprung my knee into his groin, squirming out and moving just as the axe split the dirt where my head had been. Gragore curled up, teeth clenched.

Scrambling to my feet, I busted a kick into his bloody cheek. The warlord tossed back in a spurt of blood. I lifted the axe from the dirt, then tackled down on top of him.

“I am the daughter of the Amazon Queen Perseathea.” I said, my jaw clenching so hard it hurt. Throttling into his throat with one hand, I lifted my axe, “the bringer of your death.”

Chapter 74

After, I stared on Gragore‘s body. His head sat nothing more than a chunk of flesh and bone shards, exposed and bleeding. Attracting flies. Seeing him panged me with visions of my mother and Artamene. He had done this to them. All of this. What he took from me that day changed me forever. Trapped me. He stole what I was meant to become, and killed it. And never for a moment felt guilt. My heart sped with disbelief, hard and painful thumps, just the way it had the day they told me. The day I learned my family was dead. Acid shot my tongue, sending a tremble through my body, and I thought I might vomit. Holding my breath, I closed my eyes, running away from myself. With Gragore’s blood on my hands, I waited for the release, the liberation… but it didn’t come.

Angered by this, I opened my eyes, staring down on him with accusation and disgust. Tearing the axe from his face, scraps of meat slopped to the dirt, and this gory blade shook in my hands, oozing blood down my elbows. And the seething took me over. Pain running wild. Clenching into the handle, I could no longer control its’ surge in my veins. I stabbed the axe back into him. Severing his throat. Chopping his chest. His gut. Heat blazing, I lost all remembrance of where I was. Everything turned into that day. Looking and smelling and reminding me of that day.

I hacked the blade, over and over. Chopping. Executing. I killed him, again and again, unable to kill him enough. My blade finally cut into the dirt beneath his shredded corpse, and out of breath, I forced myself to stop. Dropping my chin to my chest, a rush of warmth flooded me and I couldn’t hold it back. It had tried to come on me for a cycle’s time, this maddening sorrow, and today I could no longer fight it. Tears escaped me, muddling into the blood at my knees.

I could feel the splatters of Gragore’s blood streaking my face, smell it. The axe slid from my hands. This man was my father, now he lay beneath me. Under me. Subject to the daughter he had cursed. Waiting, I choked back a sob, begging the relief of vengeance to come. In the long moments of silent tears, my heart sunk deeper into my chest because I knew now, it would not come. Not like this.

I knelt there, unable to move. The rush of black hatred that had possessed me, had scared me, finally drained, replaced by a morbid disappointment. A sadness. I lifted shaking hands, staring at my blood stained palms. I didn‘t know who I was anymore.

Without words, Perseathea suddenly embraced me, pulling me in. Comforting me. Palming my head to her chest, she rocked me like an infant, whispering.

“I’m here, Askca.”

I hugged into her, desperate, warming tears into her bosom. I felt like a child all over again, vulnerable and scared, wanting to hide. I missed my mother so much, and the tenderness in this woman’s arms made me understand how much I still needed my mother.

A cheer erupted throughout the fallen fortress, lifting my head from Perseathea‘s chest. A wave of whooping and hollering swept over, countless soldiers fleeing in a sea of clanging metal. The battle was over and the Amazons triumphant.

A thunderous rumble boomed down the pathway, and Queen Perseathea and I both flitted our gaze in the direction of the crash. One of the many blazing stables crumbled in a cloud of smoke, the flames spitting out a crazed horse and smoke charred rider. As the horse bucked up, Masseeia glared down the pathway, locking her sights on me, the whites of her eyes penetrating through her soot caked face. As the stallion’s hooves clapped back into the dirt, the First Commander twisted the steed around, charging down the alleyway and out of sight.

I scrambled my hands through the bloody mud, retrieving my axe, then jumped to my feet. I launched to run, but stopped short under Queen Perseathea‘s hand.

“No.” She commanded, holding my arm.

“What?” I questioned, my chest heaving again with adrenalin. The Queen took the axe from my hand.

“Killing is not always the answer.”

“But-”

“There has been enough death for one day.”

“But she’ll never give up.” I swallowed, confused by Perseathea’s calm. Didn’t she realize? Masseeia would not stop until she, the Queen, was dead. “She’ll come for us!”

“And when she does, you’ll be ready.” She looked down on me with kind eyes, pulling me in under her shoulder. “But today you have known enough bloodshed. Mercy, my daughter. It separates heroes from murderers.”

Chapter 75

That evening calm settled over the land. A sea green sky glowing with blush colored clouds hung like an ocean above us, bathing the fall of day in a golden haze, beckoning twilight. I stood atop the fortress wall as the heavens opened up, showering down sheets of cleansing rain to wash away the day’s blood. The warm rain trickled my skin in a summer mist, rinsing my bloody palms, washing away the death. This was the quite after battle.

My bare feet cooling on the wet stone, I looked over the field of the fallen. A sea of lifeless bodies littered the land as flames sparkled, crackling in defiance of the evening rain. Vast death beneath the splendor of a sunset, and here I stood… alive. Part of me couldn’t believe it, and yet part of me had expected it all along.

All but for the whispers in the wind, silence covered the approaching dusk. A gentle hand rested on my shoulder and I turned to find Queen Perseathea there, staring past me to the flickers below. I gazed on my mother without words, and at the sight of her, shuttered in the once warm raindrops. Sensing my thoughts, she looked down on me with those same knowing eyes from the night of my Allegiance Ceremony. She pulled me into her embrace and words failed me, as they so often did. In the comfort of my mother’s touch, I closed my eyes, striving to forget what I had seen, what I had done, and more than anything, what I had become. A warrior.

Late that night, we the Amazons of GarTaynia and Arcania, strode into Pahll-sus, overwhelming the town with our great number. A goodly count of the women, worn by a day of heavy battle, set their sights on the tavern. Queen Perseathea, Laidea, and most of my company took quite refuge in the companionship of our new friends; Reb-Beca the Queen of Arcania, Meesha and her Amazon sister Elissea, Bartamius, Nahlla, Tythose, and the rest of those who had fought to free us. But desperate to breathe, I sought out Saratiese. Nearing the fire glow of the inn, I noticed Lathenia standing outside the doorway.

"Askca." She gestured me over.

"Where is she?"

"Come on."

As I passed by, the elderly inn keep flit me a nervous glance, but quickly dropped his eyes back to his tome records. Taking my final pace to the last door on the left, a chill pricked me over. Part of me wanted to run into that room, but the fear of what I might find… it held me. Frozen. I stood, unable to move my feet.

Lathenia cracked the door open, but she did not step aside. She instead looked up at me, warning me with her eyes. I forced a smile, trying to assure the girl I was ready, but I knew I wasn’t. What waited beyond that door frightened me more than anything. Trying to look calm, I put a hand on Lathenia’s shoulder, imploring her to step aside.

Candlelight flickered the walls of the room, struggling in the breeze from a partly open window. The scent of rain flowered in to console me. Modest, this room reminded me of the kiss Saratiese and I shared on the slope and the night we’d shared late after.

At the sight of her, my hand covered my mouth, a painful frost squeezing into my chest. Saratiese lay in the bed, still as ice. As still as death. My knees weakened like water beneath me as I knelt at her bedside.

"Sara…?"

Saratiese laid with her arms resting at her sides, her eyes closed as if in slumber. Sliding dark wisps of hair from her face, the bruises surfaced. Her cheek and eye stained under the same yellows and purples, her lips swelling darker than wine. The light in her dimmed, struggling like the candle near the window, but her beauty was fighting back. Even with her face marred and broken, she took my breath away.

And grief and disbelief swept me, pleading for me to change this. I hovered a palm, resting it over Saratiese’s stomach. Over her unborn child. Slow and gentle I traced fearful fingers over her belly, anguish stinging me. Breaking me. I dropped my face, nuzzling into the coverlet, heart breaking. Again it defied me, beating on, forcing me to live. Tired of tears, I clenched desperate fingers into the blanket, holding my breath.

"Askca." Came a soft voice from behind. A small hand settled on my back. "I have something for you."

Pulling myself up, I smeared the lone tear from my eye. Palius stood silent, offering me no more explanation than the scroll in her hand. I looked to the parchment, worn by time and stained with bloody soil.

“What is it?” I asked, slipping it from her fingers.

Palius said nothing, instead falling on my neck, embracing me. After long moments, she spoke softly in my ear.

"Saratiese wrote it."

I pulled away. “Saratiese?"

"It was with her things.”

I looked back down to the rolled parchment in my hand. "What’s in it?”

Palius pulled up from our embrace, standing to leave me. "The truth."

Alone in the room again, I pulled the olive colored tie from the scroll, letting it drop to my feet. With a slow crackle, I unrolled it. At the sight of Saratiese’s words, my heart flittered, curious yet fearful. The paled yellow parchment with its strokes of black ink gripped my heart with heavy fingers. I read the first words, knowing. I did not want to go where they would take me….

Chapter 76

The scroll.

That morning started out deceptively warm. A bright day carrying hope on the crisp scent of dew as it glittered in the treetops and across the grass. It was Balena and I’s usual path and we traveled it most every day. I coddled a content Artamene on my hip, strolling behind Balena for vanilla bark.

The woman likened as a fate mother to me since my own blood mother left to marry a man of Garrgua, (Garrgua being the tribe chosen for GarTaynia’s fertility rite), a handful of springs ago. A man I suspect to be my father, but have no genuine proof of such. In those days of my mother’s passage to that tribe beyond the lake, I was left to the tribe mothers of GarTaynia, to be raised by the whole of us. Askca being my dearest friend, her mother Balena soon became partial to me, and I to her.

Balena aged into the spring of her thirtieth season with a wit sharp as a sword, yet her disposition soothed sweet and kind. Not only a beautiful woman and a skilled warrior; she was also a devoted mother and the funniest person I knew. I adored her. We indulged many of these strolls, talking and laughing, growing as close as any mother and daughter might be, as well as becoming cherished friends. Some mornings Askca came with us, but this day, just like most, the brave engaged in her beloved combat training.

We spoke of Askca often, of the promise she held as a warrior, of the fire and passion in her eyes. But also, of her persistent short sightedness, which proved her to be rash, but also endearing. It’s one of the reasons I chose her as my closest of companions. I admired her impulsive nature and wished I could be more like that myself sometimes.

The sun shone white in a blue, cloud dappled sky, reaching down through a web of budding branches, warming my shoulders. Summer was on its way and I was glad.

“You look tired this morning, Sara.” Balena said over her shoulder, walking in front of me on the foot beaten mud. “I hope my aggressive vanilla tracking doesn’t prove too much a task.”

I snickered at the woman’s sarcasm, offering a finger to Artamene, which she grasped, but the infant quickly became disinterested. “It’s Askca’s fault.”

“Did she trick you into sneaking out for another swim?” Balena giggled, obviously fonder of Askca’s regaling story than I of the memory.

“No. Thank the Goddess. I still can’t reach the tunic she tossed up the tree that night.” I readjusted Artamene, snuggling the infant, allowing her to tangle her tiny fingers in my long hair. “No, this time she kept me up all night talking about my ceremony.”

“Oh…” Balena paused, dipping down to examine a thicket of pink flowers, “you nervous?”

My chest tightened. “As much as you can be.”

“I remember my Allegiance Ceremony….” The warrior let her words drop off as if they dare not be spoken, a world away from her customary ‘calm lake’ confidence.

“Pretty painful?”

“Completely.” She said without a blink, plucking a pink bud, then resuming her pace in front of me.

I sucked in an anxious breath, surrendering my attention back down to a cooing Artamene, happily pulling my hair. “That’s comforting.”

“You’ll do fine, Sara. It’s called adrenalin. Trance. Or a lot of those little funny berries that make you laugh.” The woman smiled at me over her shoulder.

“Balena!”

“Askca kept you up carrying on about how jealous she is, didn’t she?”

“Yes, which I don’t understand. Well I do. Well… I do and I don’t.”

“That clears it up.”

“I mean, I am excited about becoming a woman. Crossing over. Earning the place to be involved in fertility rite, but-“

“Not happy about the cutting?”

“No.”

“Who is? But you’ll do wonderful. Askca can’t wait for her ceremony, she’s itching to run up the alter steps tonight. It’s all she ever talks about.”

“I know, but that’s because she plans to be GarTaynia’s most celebrated warrior yet.”

“And I don’t doubt her for a moment.” Balena said without taking a breath.

I’d noticed it before, but in that moment it became even more manifest. When Balena spoke of her daughter, her words were like a song of sparrows. Such pride. Such joy. Askca was her light, and everything about the woman beamed when she spoke of her eldest daughter. It made me wonder if my own mother, somewhere off in Garrgua; ever spoke of me that way. Balena continued. “And she’s always been that way. When Askca was about four cycles, we had a goat named Shae-Lah-”

“I remember that goat.” My memory sparked. “Beige and black?”

“The very one. And Shae-Lah hated Askca.”

“But she loved that goat.”

“Of course she did. That poor animal endured all of her imaginations. I’d look out behind our hut and Askca would be riding that goat like it was her very own stallion, a stick for a sword in her hand. Shae-Lah would kick and buck. Askca would fly off into the dirt. But she always got back up. Scared me as the mother of a small child, but she never cried, so I let her be. Eventually I got used to it.”

“Sounds like her combat training now.”

“I’ve failed to get used to that. I can’t even watch her in combat training. Hurts my heart, necessary or not.” Balena paused, and it seemed she was pushing off the uncomfortable thoughts.

An unexpected clap of thunder drew our attention up. The recent speckle of clouds seemed to be doubling. “Looks like we’re in for an afternoon rain.”

I took in the scent of the approaching shower, patting Artamene’s bottom. “Looks like.”

“One day,” Balena went on, “I looked back there and she had poor Shae-Lah tied up at the hooves and was threatening to bring her to Amazon Council if the goat didn’t confess. That’s also what makes her such a devoted big sister, isn’t that right Artamene?” Balena turned back to us, the sound of her voice charming the baby, a pink and toothless grin lifting Artamene’s lips. “Sister Askca is always willing to play with you and protect you till the very end. Isn’t she?”

“Askca was born to be a warrior.” I shrugged. “I know its part of my duty since I was so chosen, but I’d rather just be a mother.”

“And that’s my meaning, Sara.” Regaining stride, Balena strolled further down the path, searching the vanilla bark. “Askca will face her Allegiance to become a warrior because that’s her dream. You will face it to become a mother, because that’s yours. Either choice leads to the same path and by way of it, the rightful rewards. You can face your ceremony because it’s your path to baring your own child.”

Her words warmed me with confidence. She was right. I wanted to be a mother one day, and if this was my only path to fertility rite, I would take it. I palmed the back of Artamene’s auburn peach fuss head, amused by her latest decision to eat my hair rather than twist it.

“I remember the first time I saw Askca.” Balena slowed her pace as if she were staring contentedly into the past. After a pause to reminisce, she turned to me. “She was the most beautiful baby. As soon as I saw her, I knew I could never love anyone as much as I loved her in that moment.” Her gaze then drifted down to Artamene, and she motioned to pull the baby into her arms. Taking the child from me, she held her little girl, gazing over Artamene with pride. “At least until this little angel came along-“

Her demeanor cut off as she flashed eyes to the surrounding trees. In one swift yank, Balena dropped me to the ground just as an arrow stung past my cheek. My stomach flew into my throat. The warrior woman crouched in a tangle of leaves, hugging Artamene in tight as the baby squirmed against her bosom. We didn’t move. We didn’t talk. She scanned the trees. Moments passed. No movement. The warm breeze crept through the leaves, lifting them in a gentle hiss. A distant bird squawked.

I lay at Balena’s feet, my mouth dry. My heart racing. I clenched rigid fingers into the grass. I noticed the cool mud in my fingernails. Holding my breath, I waited. I didn’t hear anything unusual.

"We’re surrounded." She whispered. "Take Artamene.”

A cold apprehension hit me. “What?”

Balena flit insistent fingers at my shoulder, nudging. “Get ready to run."

“What about you?" I swallowed the hard lump in my throat.

"Get ready to run.” She repeated, her words solid. Unmoving. “You have to get Artamene out of here.”

“But… what? Aren’t you coming?”

”No.”

“You can’t fight alone!”

“Heed me, Sara!” Balena whispered in strained demand, her eyes still burning the trees hiding these sadistic strangers. “Go to Queen Perseathea. Tell her I think they‘ve found us. Or get my sister, Laidea."

I kept place on my belly, fear stalling me. Bringing questions there was no time for. Making me wonder how I had place to go directly to Queen Perseathea, or just who these strangers were to be such paramount threats. “The Queen?”

Disregarding me, Balena slid Artamene down her leg, inching the baby toward the mud. Slowly… until she gurgled. At the sound, Balena froze. I stopped breathing. Artamene looked up at her mother cooing and flapping her arms. Her sounds, so soft and ordinary only moments before, now seemed loud and daunting.

“Shhhh, Artamene.” Balena pleaded, asking in a tone that wouldn’t upset the baby. At a snail's pace, she slipped Artamene down next to me, sitting the baby on her bottom in the mud. Artamene sat wobbling, sucking tiny fingers.

"Get her back safe, Sara. I beg you. Stop for nothing."

With my heart pounding, I lifted into a shaky crouch, reaching for the baby. “Balena, please go with me.”

“I can’t.”

“Please-”

“If I run, they will follow me.”

“Balena, you can’t do this alone. Go back with me. We’ll get help.”

"I have no time for answers, Sara. Just get Artamene out of here!"

I dropped my eyes to the whimpering baby in my arms, my stomach knotting. Burning. "Shhhh, Artamene. Please."

Balena kept her stance, refusing to look at Artamene again. Pain peeked through her face… the fact that it would be too distracting, hurt too much, to look on her child in danger. Instead, she listened to the surrounding jungle, the howling monkeys, the wind, a slow and building rumble of thunder above us.

I closed my eyes, cleaving to Artamene. I wanted to cry. I wanted to be the one curled up in the safety of someone else’s arms. I wasn’t ready for this, and shaking in it, I felt I never would be. I was a brave, not a warrior. Not a protector. How could I protect Artamene? How could I leave Balena, the closest thing to a mother I had? I wanted to go back in time. Erase these moments now gripping me. Changing my whole world. My whole future. I stopped my mind’s rambling. Just get back to the village and everything will be alright…!

"Are you ready?" Balena whispered.

"Yes." I lied.

Balena shot up, twirling her axe. "Now!"

And the forest vomited several soldiers. Balena ran blade ready into the thick of them.

I darted out, Artamene squeezed under my arms like a cornhusk doll, running past the muddle of soldiers. The trees stretched out before me like a cluttered maze, our once familiar path disappearing. I rushed through the jungle, heart racing, green blurring before me. Hurdling logs. Rocks. Flashing through the thick undergrowth, leaves and vines cool to the touch as they swiped past, Artamene joggling at my breast.

The baby sputtered out grunts as we ran, gradually turning those grunts into a wail, and then screaming red faced. Her hot tears soaked my shoulder as I palmed her head, trying to prevent its wild wobbling.

With my side burning, I clattered to a halt, crouching in some bushes. Fearfully glancing around. No one seemed to have followed, but Artamene howled loudly, drawing assured attention. Her face pinked with tears. Her elfin arms flailed. Her cries cracked against the moist air. The baby wanted her mother, and the running and bouncing about had no doubt terrified her.

The sound of fighting, of clanging blades and Balena’s shouting, hit me. Shaking, I shoved it from my mind. I had to find the Queen. It was Balena’s only chance. Bolting back up, I held tight to my crying Artamene, and launched into another sprint.

Once again, the trees flew past in a blur. After making it a goodly distance from where the soldiers attacked, I slowed to catch my breath. The village had never felt so far away! Artamene looked up at me, her lips pouting, puffing out her pink cheeks to splutter sobs. Thunder rumbled above us and a burst of wind ushered in the scent of rain. I glanced up through the web of vines to see a ceiling of gray clouds. Another screech from Artamene-

"Shhhh! Shhhh!" I begged, my chest tightening. I watched the trees for movement from my crouch in the vines. My breathing burned so hard that I could barely hear a thing above myself and the whining child. "Shhhh!"

Desperate, I bounced the crying baby in my arms, but to no avail. Artamene squealed out, shaking tiny arms and balling tiny fists. I gawked the cluster of trees, my heart now beating so hard I worried my chest bones might splinter. I leaned Artamene back, cradling the baby in my knees. Cupping her cheeks, I blew up her nose. Artamene squinted, startled, but beyond a sputtered cough, she went quite.

CRACK.

I whipped in the direction of the snapped branch. Artamene began whimpering into another cry. Desperate, I pulled the baby back in, once again blowing up her nose. One… long… puff…. She squirmed, uncomfortable with the sensation, but quieted down. I took one last look into the trees. I didn’t see anyone. This might be my only chance. I sprung back up to run.

"Grab her!" Boomed a male voice.

The words summoned three soldiers from the trees. I stumbled forward; fighting for speed, but soon came under several heavy hands. The three men grabbed me, twisting Artamene from my frantic fingers.

"No!" I thrashed under their bruising grip reaching for the baby girl. "Give her back!"

A barrel chested man with silver black hair approached, his frame shadowing over mine. Staring down at me, he summoned the soldier with Artamene with the flick of a stained palm.

“Zog-Reon.” Another clap of thunder punctuated the name.

The burly soldier with a ragged black beard took a pace up, Artamene bawling pink faced under his heavy elbow. “Sir?”

"Take the child back."

“You want me to do it there?”

His words rushed like ice water through my veins, surging me with adrenalin. I busted back into a fight. "No! Don’t!”

Gragore eyed the soldier as if they shared a secret. “You know what to do.”

“The pleasures mine.” Zog-Reon snarled his lip.

“Oh,” Gragore paused, “and make sure the warrior woman sees it."

The soldier nodded again, and then retreated into the trees with the baby screaming under his arm.

Struggling under the mammoth hands bruising my shoulders, I stared after Artamene. Her blues eyes wild and glassy. Her bottom lip puckered out, showing her fear. And right then I knew. In that terrible moment I felt vomit stirring hot in my stomach. I was never going to see that baby again. Artamene was disappearing into the trees, right before my eyes, and I could do nothing to stop it. Balena had been trying to avoid just this, and I had failed her. Failed Artamene. Feeling the rush of warm tears pushing up my chest, I wrestled against the man holding me.

“Bring her back!” I shouted over and over after the soldier, long after he had vanished from my sight.

The other soldier, silent and indiscernible up unto this moment, stepped in, startling me. Leaning in, his rank breath fumed hot on my ear.

"They’re going to split that little baby open, you know. Just like a spring lamb."

The monster of a man holding me mashed his fingers into my arms, laughing, his corpulent belly shaking against my back. And then like an omen, the thunderstorm awakened, its sprinkles transforming into downpour. The water bringing shock and disbelief down with it. And I stood there, my heart in my throat. Stinging. Bleeding. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. The whole world had just shifted, knocking me off me feet, and the shift smelled like rain.

Gragore stood quiet, satisfied, the rain shining on his face.

"No…." I whimpered, spent. Wanting to fight. Wanting to stand a chance. But this warlord, these soldiers, tripled my size. My resistance was doing no more than amusing them. They enjoyed it, or at least the warlord did. I could see it in his gray eyes. A sort of sick excitement conjured by my struggle. My pleading. My desperation energized him.

Lifting a dirty palm, Gragore cupped my mouth. Hard. His hand like a vice crushing my jaw. "Let me see your eyes."

He leaned down, ogling me with those menacing gray eyes. I stared back at him, my instinctive tears streaming over his dirty fingers. He held his gaze for agonizing moments, grinding into my jawbone. Studying me. The rain dripping down his nose. His neck.

"Gragore." A voice came from behind. Feeling like I was in a dream, it took a moment for me to realize it was the soldier holding me.

"Silence!" The warlord threatened. "No…. This is not how the warrior woman described her."

"What do you want to do with her then?" My soldier asked. "Kill her?"

My stomach dropped like a rock at those words, sending my mind into a million fearful thoughts of how these crazed strangers might do it.

"No… we will make use of this one." Gragore reached for the burlap sack tucked under his belt, freeing its straps with a swift pull. The man holding me tightened his cruel grip, pulling my elbows to nearly touching behind my back.

“What about the Amazon woman and her kid? You going to send that whore queen our message?”

Gragore never glanced up from the leather straps, his voice as calm as a sunset. “After Zog-Reon carries out my orders, Perseathea will have no doubt of my message.”

Gragore dropped the burlap over my head, plunging me into the dark. Itching under the suffocating sack, I felt the ties pull snug around my throat. Struggling to breathe in the wet heat, an invisible palm throttled into my throat through the sack. Bruising. Pinching off my air. I felt panic shivering up my wet body, causing me to gag.

"Tell your Queen my words.” The warlord clenched heavy on my air. “I am coming for my daughter. The blood lost today is just a taste of what is to come if she does not deliver the girl.” I nodded, sucking in desperate breaths from under the hot burlap. “One life for a thousand or a thousand lives for one. It‘s her choice."

Chapter 77

A week later.

Getting out of the heat, Masseeia ducked into Lokran’s tavern, the familiar smell of stale mead and salty pork assaulting her senses. The tavern women draped themselves over a collection of drunken men at the bar, tittering on and shrilling in intoxicated laughter. The rest of the tavern stood near barren, too early in the day to summon the casual patron.

Looking the place over, Masseeia spotted a secluded table in the far corner. Scraping heavy boots across the wooden floor, she sauntered passed the drunken men, eyeing them as she went. Plopping her tired bones in the chair, she lifted her boot, resting on the wobbly table top. A plump serving woman with greasy hair in her eyes ambled over, a jar of mead and an empty mug in her hand.

“The same I ‘spose?” She asked in her husky tone. Masseeia nodded, and the woman sloshed the jar down on the table. “Seen battle at the Gragorian fortress, did ya?”

Masseeia growled, pouring the mead. “Did more than see it.”

“Looks like it.” The servant woman combed the greasy hair from her eyes, then left the warrior woman to her drink.

Masseeia eased back in the chair, ogling the drunken men as she swallowed down the mug. She sat, waiting for one of the drunkards to mouth off, giving her a good reason to brawl. She needed to brawl. Askca and Perseathea were both still alive and her plans in ruins. But not for long. She stared passed the bar to the door, waiting. Moments after, a scrawny built young soldier sauntered into the tavern.

"Sae-mond." Masseeia shouted loud enough to turn the head of every patron, and the boy turned nervous eyes in her direction. "Grab another jar and join me.”

Sae-mond nodded, trying to avoid the stares from the bar. Collecting the mead from the barkeep, he headed over to the warrior.

"Masseeia, I-"

"First Commander." She cut in.

"First Commander."

Masseeia smirked. “So I take it the hiding went well?” “The hiding?”

“The hiding you did during battle. If you had actually seen battle I would have known better than to send for you…

lest I wanted a good look at your bones.” Masseeia took another swig of mead.

“Oh….” Sae-mond stammered, the red glow in his cheeks apparent.

“Never mind that. I’ve more important things to discuss.” She glanced back to the men at the bar, making certain they were involved with their women and drink. Satisfied, she dropped her boot from the table, leaning into the boy. “This is not over, Sae-mond.”

"What do you mean? Gragore is-"

"Gragore is dead and that suits me well enough.” Masseeia hit the table. “He is done. But I’m not."

Sae-mond leaned forward in his chair, whispering. "But I thought-"

"That’s your problem, boy.” Masseeia hissed, clawing fingernails into the wood. “You don’t have cause to think. It leads you to trouble. Just as you thought you should go into the woods that night. That was a bad idea, wasn’t it?"

"Woods? What night?"

"The night Laidea nearly broke your chicken neck."

"How do-”

“The night you fowled up your order and lost half your teeth and all your pride."

“How do you know about that?”

Masseeia rolled her eyes, leaning into the boy. "I was there.” She eased back in her chair, taking another full swallow. “I followed them the whole of the journey… until they dropped from my sight. I was here the night you brought them to this very tavern. I had lost sight of them, but you brought them back to me."

“See? I did what I was to do.”

“Barely.”

"But I don’t understand.”

“Shocking.”

“Why not just take the girl that night?"

Masseeia lowered her mug, glaring at Sae-mond shifting nervously in his chair. Leaning into her elbows, she eyed him.

"Because this was never just about the girl." She took another drink. "And now, we finish what I started."

Chapter 77

The afternoon hazed bright, warming my shoulders as I took my place on the exalted marble, just as I had the night of my Allegiance Ceremony. The jungle surrounding GarTaynia serenaded the day with the twittering of sparrows and humming locusts as countless mimosa blossoms dotted the breeze pink, floating down over an ocean of people like blush colored snowflakes. I took in the sweet scent with a smile, looking out over the celebration. This day glowed with new hope. The rainbow after my storm.

Paces down the marble, Queen Perseathea stood summoning forth those who had aided in her safe return. I again fell captured by the sight of the woman, as I so often had all the days of my childhood. The sun glowed above the Queen like a blinding halo, shimmering through her hair like liquid gold… casting the woman fantastic. The traditional oxblood red and blaze yellow symbols of Queen hood splashed over Perseathea’s skin like flames. Proclaiming her. Honoring her. Queen Perseathea hypnotized, possessing such untamed beauty that just to behold her stirred the soul. I gazed, infatuated. This courageous and most magnificent of women… was my mother.

As Bartamius and Nahlla drifted up the steps to be recognized before the masses, I dropped my eyes to my side. Palius gazed back up at me with bold blue eyes aglow with the same awe-inspiring pride. I smiled, wrapping an arm around the girl. Tythose and Soh-la now emerged the multitude, joining the heroes at the top of the marble. In a rush of bows, the Arcanian Queen Reb-Becah ascended the steps, taking Queen Perseathea by the hand. Meesha and her Amazon sister, Elissea, followed with Meesha’s young son Aidehn at their side.

I looked out over the more than hundred row of Amazons, my heart full in this day of celebration. We had come so far, me and the small fellowship that had ventured out of GarTaynia that night. To overcome. To know the truth. To stand here in the glory of this day. That all things might be set right. And they had been, except for one. To feel whole… I needed Saratiese.

“Askca. Palius.” Queen Perseathea turned doting eyes. Taking Palius by the hand, I walked out before the sea of faces to stand before their Queen. Lifting her chin to the host of warriors, Queen Perseathea pulled Palius and I in, and in the embrace, I felt safe for the first time in a very long time.

“Blood of my blood.” The Queen proclaimed. “The fruit of my fate. GarTaynia, I give you the daughters of your Queen.” Perseathea’s bold announcement hung in the air, followed by a small number of claps growing into a hum, and then into a roar of cheers.

I hugged my mother, looking out on the approval of my sisterhood. In this moment, the moment I had dreamt of all my days, my heart soared. My mother Balena and Artamene would finally be proud of me.

The Queen dropped her arms from us, putting palms up to the crowd to silence them.

“And now sisters of the Nation, I name my rite to Queen hood.”

An intense hush fell back over the people. This decision was long awaited and held as the highest and most sacred a Queen could make. Queen Perseathea stepped out to the center marble, looking out to her people. Silence captivated the crowd once again, every ear eager to hear her appointment.

“This place in the Nation, as sacred as life, the Queen hood of GarTaynia, I now bestow upon…” Perseathea stood

in the quite of the afternoon village, allowing the song of sparrows and locust. Savoring the moment. “First Commander Laidea.”

A rush of gasps waved through the crowd. In Masseeia’s treason she had given up her title of First Commander as well as her rite to Queen hood. Many in GarTaynia still did not know the truth of Masseeia’s betrayal, but the announcement went unquestioned, every soul secure in the decisions of the Queen. Perseathea turned warm eyes to Laidea, inviting her with an outreached arm.

Laidea stepped out from the group atop the marble, her heart aflutter. She had never felt so proud, not of herself, but of Perseathea, who truly held such respect and awe from the Nation that they dare not question the proclamation, even for a moment. Standing before the masses, Laidea bowed her head, dropping to a knee of respect.

A warrior emerged up the side of the marble, bringing forth two clay bowls and sitting them at the Queen's feet. Perseathea looked down on Laidea, gently lifting her chin. Lifting the first bowl, Perseathea dipped her hand, bringing out a bright yellow finger. She mirrored the symbols of her own Queen hood onto Laidea’s face. The second bowl offered a bold crimson, which Perseathea smeared in a heavy line to divide Laidea’s face.

"This place in the Nation,” she spoke just between them, “the Queen hood of GarTaynia, as sacred as life, is now passed onto you, my companion Laidea. In my death, you shall hold GarTaynia in your hand. Protect and love her. Defend her people. Your hand under the Goddess, in my death, so shall you reign."

Laidea rose to face the crowd. When she did, the village went into a wave of silence, every Amazon taking their first bow before the destined Queen. Perseathea gazed at Laidea, a smile tugging her lips, then gestured with a nod to the thousand of bowed heads. GarTaynia stood quite, in reverence, and the day shone most beautiful.

A shot sparked the breeze and my eye caught the flash of an arrow. As if time stopped, I watched it navigate the breeze. The arrow stabbed into Queen Perseathea, jolting the woman, flashing her eyes wide. The arrow stuck out from her shoulder like a thunderbolt, summoning a violent flow of blood. Perseathea staggered back, clutching at her shoulder.

“Get Askca and Palius out of here!” Laidea shouted, rushing Hippolyta to sweep Palius up. The warrior grabbed my arm.

“No!” I shook loose. “I have to do this. Just hide Palius.”

The crowd of thousands scrambled into a tangled mass, screaming and shouting, but the sounds somehow faded in my ears as I ran. Diving on my knees to reach my Queen, now bleeding on the marble. Another arrow streaked, jolting into Perseathea’s ribs.

“Run, Askca!” Laidea shouted, dragging me off of my mother. Pulling Perseathea into her arms, the warrior lifted to run.

Frantic, I glanced around, searching the enemy. GarTaynia swarmed with Amazons, weapons ready and searching as well. Where were the attacks coming from?

Another arrow shot from nowhere, jolting into Perseathea’s stomach. She cried out under a gurgle of blood, and Laidea grabbed hard fingers into my shoulder.

“You have to hide. Now! I will not lose you all!”

Standing there uncertain, I didn’t know what to do. Where to go. I couldn’t run, not after the quest, but I couldn‘t stay either. In my heart I knew I was the reason for this attack. Again. Shifting fast feet, I scanned the crowd, my breath fast in my chest.

Laidea ran, blood smearing her arms red. But before she could get to the Temple, the heat of an arrow stung into her own back. She staggered, off balance, blood oozing down her back. Dropping her to the marble. Hippolyta sprinted to her, pulling Laidea away from the Queen.

“No!” Laidea refused, grappling at Perseathea. “I won’t leave her!”

“Bartamius comes for her!” Hippolyta shouted. “You can’t save her if you’re dead!”

Bartamius ran past the two women, falling on Perseathea just as another arrow busted against the marble near the Queen’s head. Sweeping his sister up into his arms, he ran. Another arrow splintered on the marble after them. Then another. A third tore through Queen Perseathea’s leg, dropping her mouth in a pained expression, gasping.

“I’ll get you out this time. I’ll take you away from this.” He said desperate, flashing back to that day he shielded his young pregnant sister. That day they fled Gragore’s fortress. Sprinting down the marble steps he held her tight, but before he could reach the bottom his arm exploded with blood. Gritting his teeth, he did not slow his pace, but kept on. Another arrow sunk his leg, gushing it with blood and stumbling his feet. He tripped, dropping Perseathea hard on the marble before him. Within a blink, his back had been sliced deep to the count of three.

Chapter 78

I looked around, chest heaving. Unable to stop it. Unable to take it back. Arrows fell unmerciful, one after the other. From nowhere. From no one. The crowd ran wild, everyone searching the one who brought this death. This destruction. I looked to the marble steps. Queen Perseathea strewn halfway down them, next to Bartamius, red babbling from her like a brook.

Heart racing, I ran to her, falling on her side, searching a way to pick her up. But the Queen stuck with so many protruding arrows there was no way to grasp her without gouging them in deeper. I grappled, tears burning as I twisted and turned my mother, maneuvering her into my arms. Her blood glared up at me, bright and unforgiving.

“Askca… leave me….” She whispered, begging.

“I won’t let her take you from me.” I scrambled to lift, my bloody hands slipping, fighting my hold.

Warriors scattered the village, hunting, a sea of Amazons in a torrent of chaos. Arrow's busted the marble, clattering like hail stones and I fell back down, bruising my knees, lunging forward to cover Queen Perseathea. With my aching knees slipping in the red puddles below, I palmed my mother’s head in my hands. I didn’t understand. There was no army. There was no Gragore.

Perseathea panted for breath. “Askca….”

"Don‘t die" I muffled into my mother’s shoulder, cleaving to her. “Please don’t die.”

"Askca…" her word was barely above a whisper and choking with pain.

I lifted, looking to my mother, my heart breaking.

She gazed back at me, warmth glassing her eyes. “I love you. I always loved you.”

Another arrow blazed down and Perseathea’s eyes shot wide, her body flinching.

"No…" I begged, “no, no, no….”

Pain suddenly flashed into my back, tensing me to bow up. Warmth spilled down my leg. Another flash and my arm exploded with heat. I shuddered under the assault, holding my mother, protecting her. Willing to die with her. Red. Black. Blood. All pain ravaged me like a wild animal. Draining me…. And I let it. A scorching sting hit my leg and the blue sky of afternoon began to fade. GarTaynia and the madness blurred. The reek of blood overtook the sweet scent of mimosa and pain thundered through me.

I cried out, aching, grunting, fighting. But it was too late. The day dimmed before me. Black. Haze. Black. Blur. The screams and the sunlight faded in and out. Like a dream. A nightmare. I curled my body over my mother’s, holding to the woman. Silence.

High atop the Assembly Hall, Masseeia snickered at the people scattering below, swarming like panicked ants. Slipping back down, she eased into a crouch, a slow grin creeping her lips. Sae-mond crouched next to her, his bow clutched tight under white knuckles, his chest heaving in and out.

“They won’t look for us here?” Sae-mond whispered, his eyes wide.

“No.” Masseeia dropped to sit in the shade of the wall, her own bow tucked under her elbow. “And why are you whispering?”

“But, but…” he stammered, his pale face glazed in sweat, “what if they do? They could find us up here. They could-” Masseeia cupped the young man’s mouth, staring him into silence.

“No one is coming. Got it?”

Sae-mond nodded, wringing his sweaty palms over his bow.

Masseeia dropped her hand, tilting her head back to relax against the wall. She took in a deep and satisfied breath.

“No one can take this moment from me.”

Chapter 78

The day wept, rain misting from an overcast sky, dropping like tears in the dust of GarTaynia. A chill carried in the breeze, cutting a path through the village to where the masses gathered, souls heavy and spirits grieving. Entering her hut, I settled gentle hands on Palius’ shoulders. Without a word she turned to me, hugging into my hip.

My arm, leg, and middle bound in white binds, so my balance wobbled a bit, but I embraced her all the tighter. Laying a hand over her cheek, I stared out the window, past the procession of mourners and into the green of trees surrounding GarTaynia. The wet trees swayed under a desperate breeze, their leaves dripping tears. Even the wind mourned this day’s silence. A slow wave of people passed by our window, an ocean of grievers, and the sight of them stung my weak heart. I could take no more days like this one. My face pasted pale and covered in a cold sweat. I felt dead… too much love taken from me in this lifetime.

But I knew I had to be strong for Palius. I needed to take care of her. Be there for her. I was her family now. She needed me and truthfully, I needed her. And that’s what Queen Perseathea would want, her two daughters together, at long last. I parted my lips, my mouth as dry as dust, forcing myself to speak without tears.

"We can do this." I told her in a whisper, trying to sound strong. Pulling my sister in close, I lifted a trembling hand to the amulet at my neck.

"Askca, Palius." Hippolyta appeared at our doorway, "it's time."

Chapter 79

Uncountable Amazons floated by, familiar and unfamiliar alike, all suffering under the same sorrow. The Amazons of GarTaynia, Arcania, Eshma, Qkuose, and Naltez streamed past in hallowed reverence. Heads of the Nation; Queens, First Commanders, Commanders, and elders walked together with heads low in respect. The holy circle of shaman priestesses gathered together in the procession to prepare the Queen’s spirit to pass. Behind them trudged warriors and braves, kept by their own silence. They followed the path into center village to where the funeral fires burned.

Laidea. The sight of her made me feel like I had swallowed a ball of ice. As much as my own heart hurt, seeing the torture on Laidea’s face only deepened my pain. I hurt for her, wishing more than anything I could provide her a moment‘s comfort. When we entered, the auburn haired woman stood silent in the middle of the chamber, staring at a door. Behind this door, She rested.

And Laidea had spoken to no one. She held her arms out to her sides as the warriors dressed her for ritual, but she never took her eyes off the door. The warrior women slipped ceremonial leathers over Laidea, stained her skin with the symbols of Queen hood, then brought forth the sacred amulet. It dangled from the unnamed woman’s fingers, her head bowed in reverence. Head still bowed, she raised her arms over Laidea's head, slipping the blood stained talisman around her neck.

Laidea held the smooth green stone in her hand, squeezing it in her palm. She brought the stone to her lips, kissing it as she closed her eyes. Her fingers shook as she rested the stone against her chest. Slipping her old amulet from her neck, Laidea dangled it, staring at it as if it held the answers to all that had happened… to all she had lost. Placing her own amulet over the one hanging at her neck, she took both stones into her hand, begging a closeness to Perseathea as the two amulets cradled in her palm. After the sacred moment, Laidea dropped Perseathea's amulet back to her skin.

“Askca.”

It was the first word Laidea had spoken. I dropped Palius’ hand, stepping toward my new Queen. With tears glassing her eyes, Laidea cradled my cheek in her palm, holding me in a mother’s touch. I swallowed the burning tears in my throat, refusing them, cupping the woman’s hand in my own. After moments of unspoken words, Laidea lifted her old amulet, slipping it over my head. We shared this silence, then I dropped my eyes, stepping back.

Laidea looked to her warriors, her eyes signaling she was now ready. One of the women stepped forward, a clay bowl marked with the insignia of a Queen resting in her hand. As the woman stood before her, Laidea kept her eyes far from the bowl. The warrior before her dipped a hand, bringing out a dark red finger.

I looked away, my heart clenching. The bowl brimmed with Queen Perseathea's blood… the blood of her fall. I instead looked to Palius, who stood staring at her feet, weeping silent tears into the dust.

After Laidea had been properly marked with the blood of a Queen, the two warriors left the hut, leaving the family to the chamber Queen Perseathea had once shared with Laidea. The whisper of rain, along with the weeping from outside, crept into our room. A knock at the door prompted Laidea to smear the single tear from her cheek. Hippolyta cracked the door open. Laidea nodded to her friend, so she opened the door, escorting the four Queens of the Nation into the chamber. Palius and I stood behind Laidea as Hippolyta went to the door behind which Perseathea rested. Pulling the door open, the four Queens followed Hippolyta into the candle lit room.

Laidea and I watched, Palius under my arms, as the four women stepped back into our room, the pallet with Queen Perseathea’s body in their hands. A gasp escaped Palius as Queen Perseathea, our mother, was rested at our feet. I looked away, burying my face in Laidea's shoulder, but Palius stood staring with a stream of unending tears. Laidea held us both, and I could tell she was choking back her own heart.

Queen Perseathea lie with her eyes closed atop a cascade of doe pelts, with violets, sun kissed lilac, and dew covered lilies scattered about her body. The bouquet of wildflowers dotted with summer dandelion and greening leaves. The fragrance of the blossoms mixed with the sweet scent of oils perfuming the Queen's body, tangling with the scent of rain. A beautiful, but tragic moment. It was a scent, and a feeling, I knew I would never forget.

Crimson and pale blue feathers strewn throughout Perseathea's sunset colored hair. Her body dressed in mahogany battle skins, the brash red and yellow symbols of the Queen hood painted proudly on its’ leathers. Atop the leathers lay her heavy chain mail skirt. Her battle scars, along with her fresh wounds; the wounds that brought her death, were painted bright yellow and red to emphasize her great strength. Her mammoth axe lie across her body, her fingers tucked around its’ handle.

And still, it felt as if she would simply wake up. The feeling that this was all a dream, a mistake… refused to leave me. Queen Perseathea, even in death, was still so beautiful.

Chapter 80

A woman's graceful yet haunting voice floated up to the heavens, notes of pure and exquisite anguish. The song of sorrow. My own heart stopped its’ beating as the first note sailed into me, hitting me like a hard fist in my stomach. The four Queens lifted Perseathea’s body, and thus began the slow procession to the fires. Laidea slipped her arms from us, taking her first steps out the door. I looked down to Palius, taking her hand, then forced my heavy feet to follow out into the people. Strangely, I knew their sympathetic stares would burden me, somehow making this moment worse. I wanted to hide from their eyes.

The sky loomed wet and overcast gray. I squinted my puffy eyes against the light, so bright it hurt. The four Amazon Queen's carried Perseathea's body on their shoulders at the forefront. Laidea walked alone behind the body, and I took my place with Palius at the end.

Not a mumble escaped the masses. A wide path opened up through the thousands of mourning Amazons, falling to each side in waves, the people going to one knee. A single drum began to pound alongside the sorrowed song, and the four began their descent. Rose petals began to fall like rain as the host of mourners showered Queen Perseathea and the path that lay ahead with the soft yellows, deep crimson, and pure white petals. Pounding, weeping, raindrops, and the heavyhearted melody filled the rainy day.

Laidea held solid as she walked behind the body of her companion. Her head was held up strong. Her face like stone. She looked to the sad eyes of the women she passed. Every eye brimmed with compassion for her loss, for the Nation's loss. Then, she saw Bartamius. The man stood, his entire middle bound in white linen, his face covered in bruises and cuts, tears turning his eyes red. The two shared a burdened glance of compassion, then Laidea took her eyes away, no longer able to look on him.

Rain misted into Laidea’s auburn hair… and she held on. She walked steady, blocking out the grieving faces. The song, the body in front of her, the daughters behind her. They all had to disappear because if they didn't she would break. So she stared ahead, seeing nothing, allowing herself no thoughts. She tried to keep her eyes from the body ahead, bouncing in motion to the steps of the four women. But her eyes came to forsake her…. Looking on, chasing after Perseathea… her lips still soft. Her beauty still fresh. None of this could be real.

The steps leading up to the funeral fires appeared white and blinding. Flower petals whisked up by the breezes swept across the steps. Large drops fell from the gray above and Queen Perseathea's body began its ascension up the steps.

And sobs rose up, choking Palius. The child tried to stifle them, but they forced through, too powerful, too consuming for her to stop. Under their pressure she broke like a clay jar on marble. Heavy rain drops slid down her cheeks mixing with her hot tears. Her heart drowning. It hurt, the pain suffocating, and she stumbled, unable to stay on her feet.

I scooped her up, carrying the girl as she cried, clinging to me.

The sight that lay ahead… miraculous. A golden blaze crackling in amber glow, whipping the wind, battling the light rain. The rain stood not a moment’s chance against the powerful force of fire. White smoke billowed up from the flames like a heavy fog looming over the GarTaynia, waiting to carry the Queen's soul to the after. The golden glow of funeral flames lit up even the gray of day, illuminating every marble step leading up. The musk of burning wood melded with the sweet aroma of spice and herb. The smells smoldered into an intoxicating incense, rising from the fires to fill the village with the heady scent. This was the funeral flame of a Queen.

I stared ahead, squinting at the bright blaze, Laidea silhouetting against the orange before me like a dream. Heat scorched my cheeks. I stopped on the steps, Palius crying warmth into my wrapped chest. I glanced down to the crowd, my feet begging me to walk back, as if that might change things. But not even thousands of warriors, this sea of women, could change this. There was nowhere to go but to the fire, and I turned back to face it… just in time to watch the four Amazons lift Queen Perseathea’s body to the flame. One last look.

Chapter 81

DAWN OF A NEW CYCLE

I sat silent with Saratiese in the cool grass on the edges of GarTaynia, staring into the approach of dusk. Three seasons had passed since Queen Perseathea had gone from us, and staring out into this evening reminded me of her. This sunset hazed just the same as that last evening I stood atop the fortress wall with my mother staring out over the twinkling fires of the fields. A warm breeze lifted through my hair, ushering in the fresh smell of the approaching spring, and I let a slight smile lift my lips. The pain in my heart remained heavy, as it always would, but it was now somehow bearable, the sting fading. I turned to Saratiese who sat palming her swollen belly.

“The shamaness said sunset.” She told me softly.

“Then you should go.” I lifted, extending my hands to her.

Saratiese looked up at me with worry in her blue eyes. “Do you think she will give blessing?”

I took her hands, pulling her up. “I do.”

“Then I’ll come for you after?”

“She’ll give the baby blessing.” I assured, squeezing her shoulder. “I promise.”

Saratiese smiled at me then turned, drifting back down the slope toward GarTaynia. I stared after the girl till she disappeared into the shadows of the village, then turned back to face the sunset.

“Askca.” A child’s voice came.

“Palius.”

The girl shuffled the last few paces up the grass. “I thought you might be here.”

“I bet you did.” I pulled Palius into a quick hug. “I’m glad you came.”

“I’ve waited long for this talk.” Palius said, dropping to sit in the cool grass.

I sat next to her. “Then you know what it is I must ask?”

“Yes.” Palius answered, hugging her knees in, her eyes on the sunset. Despite her old words, she looked so young. Like a child still unaware of what the world could do to such an innocent soul.

“I don’t know how to ask this-“

“You fear the answer.” She cut me off, her blue eyes now on me. Serious. Intense.

I swallowed, hesitating. I did fear the answer. Part of me didn’t want to know and I had considered not asking at all.

“Saratiese fears the baby will-”

“Be the Rival.” Palius cut in again.

I swallowed, apprehensive myself. “Yes.”

“Her fear is reasonable. Her baby is the Rival.”

A cold cut into my gut, and I took a deep breath, trying to think, trying to reason my way out of things. “But that can’t be. The consecrated is destined to one day battle the Rival. If it is Saratiese’s child….” I dropped my words, scared to speak them.

“And that battle will not be swift,” Palius spoke where I could not, “but will bleed out into a long journey to the death.”

I stared on her, this weighty silence tensing my sister and I. As the quite took over, I dropped my attention to the grass, twisting at the blades, letting the words sink in.

“Then you know what I must ask of you next.” I whispered, still not looking on her.

“I knew before I came.” Palius said, her words sounding warm, yet heavy in my ears. Old and ancient.

“Then tell me… am I the consecrated?”

Another breath of spring air warmed passed me, bringing a hint of wildflowers. And I waited. Silence stretched out, long moments with Palius saying nothing, and I began to wonder if she would tell me.

“I cannot reveal that to you.” Her answer was soft, almost apologetic.

“Why?” I flit anxious eyes to her. “Do you not know? Can you not see-”

“I know.”

“But these are the very trials I must prepare for.”

“The things I have seen… you are not ready to know.”

I took in a sharp breath, planning to speak, but no words came. There were no words. Palius looked up at me, a gentle and waiting expression on her face that spoke loudly. She never intended to upset me.

“You understand why it must be this way?”

I put my arm around my sister, pulling her in under my shoulder, staring out into the twinkling of sunset.

“I do.” I squeezed her, feeling her relax under my assurance. “I understand.”

And in that moment, I did understand. The transformation I had chased after since the day I lost my family had at long last come for me on my quest for the Queen. And that quest led me to more discoveries about myself than I’d ever expected or imagined. I learned how to be a woman, a warrior, and most valuable, a loyal friend. I learned my true name as a daughter, and my fate as the child of a Queen. The name of the consecrated still shrouds in the unknown, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve gained a sister and a family, and after all, that’s what I’d lost to begin with.

But in this joy, I’ve also found its paradox. None of this changes my past. And now I see, that‘s what I‘d been seeking all along. But at the end of it all, be it good or bad, I am still Askca. I am still that young girl who lost her mother and her sister… and I always will be. And a part of my soul will always hurt for them. Yearn for them. I miss them every day and I always will.

But I’ve found my peace in knowing that it isn’t the past that has to change, but how I see it. The past is as it must be, and it can be no other way. No amount of my wishing will mold it into what could have been. Because the truth is, what could have been is what happened. Everything happens for a reason, especially the pain. And my pain led me here, and here, I am happy. So at long last I accept my failures, my losses, and my heartaches. I embrace them, because it’s in them that I blossomed. I may not be able to mold my past, but there is something better to shape. My future. The rest is chasing the wind.

THE END

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Becky Rhush’s Horror short story BLACK WEDDING is featured in the current issue of Dark Tide Writers Magazine. In 2006 her Horror short story SEEING THE UNSEEN featured in The Lightening Journal. In 2007 she served as script supervisor on the short indie film SOCCER MOM. In 2005 Ms. Rhush placed top 7 in the International Write Idol Contest. She is the recipient of the2005 Frontiers In Writing Conference Award and is also a member of the Panhandle Professional Writers.

She currently resides in Texas with her partner and several fuzzy children.

Website address: www.freewebs.com/rhush

e-mail Becky J. Rhush at readrhush@hotmail.com