“I cannot!” cried Soliana, “I am just a girl!”
“You are Soliana, Doom to Darkness! Free her!”
“I am nothing!” she yelled back as she dropped to her knees resigned to her sister’s death yet again.
“You are Soliana Solaris! Holder of Hope and Breaker of Evil! Now, free her!”
Soliana lifted her head and looked to her sister whose face was now a deep purple. Her eyes were full of tears and her nose was dripping mucous. There was only a shred of life left in her. But what can she do against an evil that killed more than just life? It killed hope. It killed dreams. It killed faith. Yet from somewhere deep in the last words of Rhashana, she identified with a hope that would not end. Resolved to this hope, the hope that she would save her sister, that she even could save her sister, she found the strength to stand. She stood and she shouted. From the very core of her unknown self, she yelled from the identity that she never knew was there, but always believed it was. She shouted from a depth far beyond the known oceans into the foundations of her soul and beyond. She shouted with hope. She shouted with intent. And she shouted with power.
“Stop!” she bellowed. Her voice echoing everything she had ever felt form the moment of her birth to the very moment she screamed. All of her was expelled in a single auditory blast that was impossible to resist. As if the heavens opened up and channeled its awesome power through her, in a mere moment her voice collided with her father, he was dissolved by her power. He was dissolved and Dominia was saved. He was gone, but more than that. It was almost as if he never was. Releasing all of herself in the sounds of her shout, she expelled from her the hold he still had over her. Splendidly, she realized that she was not running away from her past to get away from the woman she had been when she gave herself her new name, but to become the woman she always was. She was worthy, had always been worthy and would always be worthy. She had always been Soliana. And now she was free.
She opened her eyes and saw the ceiling of the small room in which she was laying. It took her a moment to focus her sight, but when she did, she saw Rhashana standing over her with a broad smile on her lips. “Welcome back, Soliana,” she said.
“Thank you. And thank you for being there with me,” said Soliana as she slowly sat up.
“What do you mean?” asked the woman Shaman.
“Your words. They helped me while I was under. I could not have done it without you?” she said as she gripped her hand.
“I am always willing to accept gratitude, but I feel it is misplaced in this instance,” said Rhashana.
“What do you mean?”
“I was unable to find you inside the Dream Trance,” she said. “Whatever help you received; it was not from me.”
“But I heard your voice as clearly as I hear it now,” said Soliana.
“I tell you truly, I did not say a single thing. I was worried I had lost you at the very beginning. I even began to doubt that you had entered the Dream Trance at all.”
“I do not understand. I was sure it was your voice I heard,” Soliana said as she looked to Rhashana for understanding. “But if it was not you, then whose voice did I hear?”
“Indeed. I have no doubt you heard my voice, but it was not me,” she said as she eased Soliana to her feet. “At any rate, did you see what you needed to see?”
“I believe I did. Though I do not know exactly what it means or how it relates to you and your request,” she said as she steadied herself.
“Do you not?” questioned Rhashana. “Search for your truth, Soliana. For it was inside your Dream Trance.”
When Soliana thought of what had happened, she felt it fading from her memory, the way the more intricate details of dreams do as time away from them increases. She remembered very little of the details now, a few moments removed, but the effect the dream had on her did not do the same. Rather, as the details lessened in strength, the strength of the overall effect seemed to be growing. Although she did not remember much, she did remember who she was; or rather, who she had always been. For while she was named Athlorial Lumendel from birth, the identity of her intent, what she was meant to be, had always been Soliana. Awakened to her new, or rather, remembered self, in this moment she knew the words of their prophesy was about her.
“What must I do?” she asked Rhashana as she steeled herself to the truth revealed in the Dream Trance.
“So, you have seen. Very well. Please sit back down and I will explain where we now stand. There was a wedding three nights ago. But it was not a wedding of love. It was a wedding of fear. Though our clan is large, it is not the largest. Nor are we the most aggressive. We are content to remain within our lands. We do not wish to conquer. For that is not the way of the Barbarian life. We do not impose captivity on others. Such was the way of all of the clans. Until recently, that is. Since last year, there emerged a single clan bent upon the subjugation of all other clans. Those they could not take by force; they took through the bonds of marriage. Two months ago, our chief was approached by the Clan leader, a horrible man named Holignan the Great. He came with a proposition of marriage to unite our clans through the marriage of our Chief’s daughter to himself. When our chief refused, Holignan called upon his army. They descended upon us so quickly we did not even have time to react. But they did not attack. Instead they surrounded us. Holignan then said that if our chief did not agree, we would be decimated to non-existence. So, naturally the wedding took place and Princess Nithosa was given to Holignan uniting our clans.” Then her face and voice took on a combination of horror, sadness, and vengeance. “He took her right after the ceremony and forced our clan to watch as he brutalized her in the most heinous way. The look on our chief’s face, I cannot express for there are no words heavy enough to carry the grief in his eyes, nor the resolved hatred in his heart for Holignan. She was barely breathing when he placed her on the back of his horse and rode away with his army.”
“That is horrible, but a story I am familiar with,” replied Soliana.
“That night, in my Dream Trance, I uttered the words of that prophesy and saw you as clearly as I do now. But we did not know who you were until we heard about the rumor of the retreating refugees and the ‘Woman of Fire’ who lead them. From that moment, I knew you were sent to free her,” she finished as she gripped Soliana’s hands.
“By my death, she will be freed and you will be removed from the influence of this clan,” she said, gripping Rhashana’s hands a little more firmly.
“Then let us be on with this business,” said the Shaman.
After they reconvened with the barbarian council, it was explained that Soliana would indeed assist them in their desire to both free Nithosa and escape from under the influence of Holignan. The council was of the mind to deliberate endlessly; however, Soliana urged them to decision because of her own people’s plight to escape their own predicament. So, it was decided that the Barbarian Chief, who finally introduced himself as Nithock, would ride the short distance to where Holignan was still encamped. They would say they raided a poor merchant’s caravan. As part of the plunder, they took the gold and Soliana, deciding to hand them both over to Holignan as an act of fealty. The mission relied on the assumption that Soliana would be taken to the Chief’s harem and placed there until the time he called upon her. Soliana was then supposed to locate Nithosa and lead her to safety. If pursuit was engaged, Nithock and his riders would be waiting to ambush them. Hopefully it did not come to that because the resulting retribution would be swift and lethal. But that was beyond their concern in this moment. The consideration of consequences was a type of luxury they did not possess when faced with the necessity of saving Nithosa.
It had been settled. After Soliana dressed herself in the attire equivalent to a low-level merchant’s daughter, they bound her hands and feet, hefted her on the back of Chief Nithock’s horse, and rode toward the last known location of Holignan’s encampment. It seemed rather ironic to Soliana that the moment when she felt the most free to become
herself, she had been bound. Not only that, but she was being given as if she were a piece of property. Although this was just a ruse and part of the plan, once inside the camp of the enemy, she would be seen and treated as such. If she was not successful, she was as good as theirs.
They did not ride for very long, perhaps only an hour, but the journey was much more uncomfortable on the backside of a horse, even when considering they did everything they could to make her as comfortable as they could. It was essential she ride like this right from the very beginning in the case they unexpectantly came across some of Holignan’s men. Regardless of need, she developed a whole new appreciation for captives in general. As they rounded the top of a small rolling hill, they came into view of their destination. Riding out to meet them were ten armed men. When they were close, the armed riders surrounded Chief Nithock and his two escorts.
“What business do you have here?” asked the leader.
“I have come with a tribute of fealty to Chief Holignan,” said Chief Nithock proudly as he indicated the woman on the back of his horse as part of the included tribute.
Looking at them warily, the leader of the riders commanded them, “Disarm yourselves and you will be escorted to see the Chief. He will then decide if your tribute is worthy enough to be kept.”
“Even in marriage you distrust us?” asked Chief Nithock.
“Disarm, or you will be disarmed,” commanded the leader more sternly.
Chief Nithock looked to his right and left indicating to both of his guards they should disarm themselves. The three of them unstrapped their various blades and dropped them to the ground. Two of the soldiers dismounted and quickly collected the weapons, wrapping them in thick leather and tying them with strong leather straps. “When your business is done, and you have been escorted back here, your weapons will be returned,” said the leader. “Now, follow me.”
The fourteen riders quickly made their way down into the encampment. Soliana was not able to see much from her prone vantage point, but she was able to see that nearly all of those the Chief brought with him were warriors. She estimated their numbers to be close to one hundred, not including the sentries and those that might still be in their tents. About half way through the camp, she noticed some of the barbarian warriors busy practicing their war craft. They were not the best fighters she had seen, but they were more than rabble. They had skill and were well trained and drilled. Having previously hoped they would be undisciplined, she was finding it more difficult to believe in her success. It was one thing to avoid detection from those who were not trained in what to look for, but avoiding the trained was a much different matter.
They reached Chief Holignan’s tent quickly as it was not a very large encampment. They were instructed to stay mounted while the leader entered the tent. Soliana tried to look around in an attempt to gather as much information as she could, but was still unable to see much. As it turned out, she did not have much time either, because the chief exited his tent after only a short discussion with the leader.
“Ah, Chief Nithock, it is good to see you. But I did not expect you to offer me gifts so soon,” he said.
“Neither did I, but opportunity presented itself,” he said as he pointed to Soliana.
“Indeed. Where did you find her?”
“Our raiding party took her as part of our bounty from a merchant’s caravan. They had intended her for me, but I thought you would enjoy her instead,” said Nithock.
“I have not even finished enjoying your daughter, or is your memory as short as your cock?” he said mocking Nithock.
It took everything the chief had to restrain himself from dismounting and challenging Holignan right then and there. But ultimately, that would not save his daughter, nor would it lessen Holignan’s clenched fist of control around his clan. So, he swallowed his anger and responded, “Perhaps you would enjoy them together. This one is older, but her beauty is supreme. I am sure she will be to your liking.”
Chief Holignan considered for a moment, “Dismount and approach me,” ordered Holignan to Nithock.
“For what purpose?” he asked.
“So you can pledge me fealty, of course. Pledge and I will accept your gift,” answered the standing chief. When Nithock hesitated, Holignan added, “Or perhaps you would like me to bend my bride again instead of you bending your knee.”
Nithock dismounted and walked to stand in front of Holignan. “Now, see there. That was not too difficult to do was it?” asked Holignan. “Now, bed your knee!” he ordered.
Chief Nithock looked back to his two guards and saw the sadness in their eyes. But he also saw vengeance, a vengeance that was echoed in his resolve to do whatever it took to save his daughter and clan. Slowly and reluctantly, he lowered himself to one kneed and bowed his head.
“Lower,” said Holignan. Nithock did as he was instructed. He lowered his head so much that his forehead was almost touching the ground.
“Lower,” said Holignan putting his foot on the back of Nithock’s head pushing it into the cold mud. By this time, many of the barbarians had gathered to see their chief make mockery of Nithock. And it did not go unnoticed by Holignan, who then decided to pander to their belief that their clan was superior, “You see there! This is the price of being powerless,” he said as he continued to put pressure on Nithock’s head to the amusement of his gathered warriors. “Let it be known that there will never come a day when we, the Barbarians of Holignan, will bow before anyone. Let it be known that all clans shall bow to us!”
When he completed his short speech and was just about to remove the pressure of his boot on Nithock’s head, Nithock could take no more. Summoning all of his strength, he gathered himself upon his legs and launched himself upward. Holignan was pushed off balance and completely taken by surprise. As such, he was unable to defend against the rage driven uppercut from Nithock’s fist as it bore all of his hatred squarely into Holignan’s exposed jaw. The impact shattered teeth and fist alike, but while Nithock felt and explosion of pain in his hand, Holignan felt nothing as he lifelessly landed on the ground.
Nithock stood over his dead foe and watched as blood leaked from is eyes and ears. So punishing had been his blow that the dead chief fell back nearly five feet. There was no movement for a few moments, but when the realization of what had just happened descended on all of those present, a swarm of chaos ensued. The closest warriors to Nithock attacked him but were unable to completely subdue him. Holding them at bay with the edged of the sword he took from the dead Holignan’s body when he saw the guards advance, his position was tenuous at best. It was dissolving quickly as more and more barbarian warriors were rushing to the scene.
“Cut her loose!” demanded Nithock as he wildly slashed. So focused were they on him, that none had attended to his two guards. Soliana pushed herself from the back of the horse and landed on the ground. Each of the guards dismounted and cut her bonds. As they did, out from the tent ran a young woman Soliana identified as Nithosa. The young woman looked beaten and bruised around her face and neck but seemed fit enough to escape. However, instead of running, she jumped into the fray and came to the aid of her father by delivering a kick to the closest barbarian’s stomach. She was unarmed, but by sheer fury, was able to keep them from her.
Regardless of the emotional boost to their immediate situation, Soliana held no hope for their survival. She saw the rest of the camp jump into action. There was no time. They had to escape now, but they were surrounded by a hundred seasoned barbarian warriors.
Holder of hope! shouted a voice insider her head.
But there is none! she heard her mind shouting back.
You are and so there is! shouted the voice in return.
And then, she saw it. There was hope because there was her. She was the hope. And now, she was the hope of survival for Nithock, his daughter and the two guards. As the familiarity of the Dream Trance returned to her consciousness, she felt something grow. It was not rage, nor hate, nor composed of any dark
emotion. Rather it was bright and warm, but deep and defiant.
She felt the collective wills of all those involved in this hour. On one side were placed the formidably singular wills of Nithock, Nithosa, and the two guards and on the other she saw the wills of each member of the barbarian tribe. If left to stand alone, none of their combatants could stand against either the determination of Nithock or his daughter, but when collectively assembled, there was no mistaking the dominance of their foe’s presence. It was nearly one hundred against four; odds not even the greatest Legends of old could hope to stand against. Their fate had been decided. Only the actions of pitted wills remained.
But in her haste to analyze the surrounding battle based on her new found understanding, she left out a vital piece to the blood-soaked equation - her. Reaching into the depth of her experience in the Dream Trance, she saw her will as a function of her hope. She was hope, therefore, her will existed as complete. But hope left without the solidification of belief was like bread without its leaven. It would remain without substance and never rise to its fullest potential. So like bread, hope too had its leaven. And in this moment, she knew what it was. It was belief. For only belief added to hope can solidify the will unto action. She saw it, and she would rise.
She gathered her belief into herself as the hope of her companions’ survivals and gripped the swords handed to her by the two guards. As the barbarians surrounded and slowly closed in on Nithock and his daughter, Soliana saw the stout resolve of emotion begin to give way to a hopeless recognition that they were going to die. But they would not die today.
Just as she did in the Dream Trance, she bellowed her power from deep within as her lungs. Her voice reigned doom upon those set against her hope, belief, and will. Such was the blast that those within fifty feet of her fell backwards and were stunned. Those within one hundred feet were forced to gather their strength and balance lest they too be uprooted to land upon the cold ground. This gave both chieftain and daughter the time they required to stand and run toward their horses. But Soliana was not done. She knew they would be pursued unless their victory was complete. As father and daughter mounted the horses along with the two guards, Nithock called to her to follow.
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