by K C West
Prologue
650 AD Central Arizona
The sun rides high in the sky, a blinding orb that overheats the air and sucks the moisture from our bodies. It sears the barren ground and reflects the heat upward through the soles of our worn sandals.
We are in bad shape. That last battle with the strange, dark skinned warriors hurt us and we were forced to leave the bodies of several of our own. Individually, we are demoralized, but as a group find renewed strength.
There are just five of us now, Leeja, Peli, Shanna, Solana, and myself, Marna. We are the sole survivors of a long and arduous march across some of the most inhospitable country we have ever encountered. It is my duty as our Queen’s trusted companion to be true to her at all times and protect her from any evil that might befall her. I will lay my life down for her if necessary. Now, without question, I attempt to guide our small tribe toward the distant mountains, but it’s hard to convey confidence when it appears that we are heading deeper into disaster.
Our choices are limited. We cannot go back for fear of meeting again with the same fierce warriors. While we are equally fierce and unafraid, we are only five and they are tens of five.
Leeja, my Queen, my partner on the battlefield and in my bed, is wounded. An arrow pierced her belly. My heart aches, for I have sworn to protect her forever. When she dies, and I know she soon will, my heart will die with her.
We gather enough tough, woody material from a dead prickly plant, the nearest thing to real trees we have found hereabouts, fashion a litter, and cover it with skins, worn and ragged from our long trek. Together we lift Leeja and place her gently upon it. She holds her breath and grunts in pain while we make her as comfortable as we can. I weave some thinner pieces into a cover, shading her from the glare of the sun and from its infernal heat.
Our progress with the litter is slow, but I will not leave Leeja behind despite her requests that we do so. Nor do my companions expect that I would.
The prickly plants do provide water, not a lot, but enough to keep us going if we use it sparingly.
Day after day, we trudge toward our destination, a distant range of mountains, but each morning when we start out, they appear as far away as they were yesterday, the day before, and the day before that. They shimmer, a ghostly mirage in the hot air, ever-beckoning, inviting.
Peli, Shanna, and Solana insist they take turns pulling the litter. I, keeping my eyes on the distant peaks, lead the way. It takes two to pull the loaded litter over the rough terrain. The other follows at a distance, frequently checking our backtrack. At night we take turns watching and listening, searching the darkness for marauders or wild animals hot on the scent of blood. I take my turn at watch, but when I am not so involved, I lie down beside the litter and hold my Leeja. When I look into her green eyes, they brighten a bit, but always they reflect the pain she is suffering.
“Leeja, my love, I curse the ancestors who so long ago started us on a journey that has brought us here, to this place that has been forsaken by the gods.”
“Do not despair.” Leeja’s voice holds little strength. “The mountains ahead will be covered with lush forests,” she says, focusing on some distant point. “There will be game to spare, fresh water gushing from grottos, and sparkling lakes in which to wash our bodies.”
“Alas, woman of my life, I wish I could be as sure.”
“Be sure, Marna, the mountains will welcome us. We will find peace there, a place where we can rest on our journey.” She pauses to catch her breath. “Perhaps, Marna, my love, it will be the end of our journey, a place where we can start anew. There may even be young women who will join with us, make our tribe strong again. There may even be women with child who will add twofold to our number.”
“Yes, love of my life, that may be so.” I sigh, for I know in my heart that there is no land of plenty awaiting us, no lush forests like Leeja, in her fevered mind, envisions.
The litter moves again and I awaken. I see Marna close by and I am calmed by her presence. My pain is a constant companion. I do not remember where I am or what cycle of the moon it is, but I remember why I hurt.
I am gut-shot and will soon pass beyond this world to serve my Goddess in spirit form. I am called Leeja, Amazon Queen, soul partner of Marna. Never again in this world will I make love with my beloved Marna. I can see the agony in her eyes and feel the despair in her gentle touch. That is why I hurt.
The others keep me as comfortable as they can. They carry me on this litter and use leaves and bits of clothing to dress my wound. Peli cuts and chews the tough flesh of the spiny green plant, then places it in my mouth. It moistens my throat. The fierce sun burned and blistered my body before Marna made a canopy for the litter. Now, I have some relief from the heat, but I smell filthy from sweat and blood and this festering wound. We all are weak and weary from the constant search for food and water and a way out of our desperate situation.
Marna crouched beside my litter and stroked my face with her strong, tapered fingers. “I have appointed Solana as my lieutenant,” I say, “only because you are too close to me and will act, perhaps foolishly, with your heart. You must follow her now and leave me here.” I watched her eyes glisten like jewels. “lam only slowing you down.”
“Never, my dearest one,” she answered, her voice husky. “I will never leave you.”
Then, she recounts my brave deeds in battle and tells of my prowess as a tribal hunter and leader. Alas, those days are gone forever. I feel a few tears threaten and swallow hard, amazed that there can be any moisture left in my body. My fingers clasp the Amazon Medal of Valor that I wear around my neck. I rub it between my forefinger and thumb. How proud I was to have earned it for valor in battle. Marna wears a similar one, but she was awarded hers many seasons ago, before I was so honored. I must give my medal to Marna. When I pass over, she will have it to remind her of our undying love. As for Solana, although she is young, she is experienced in the ways of the tribe. She will keep our band of lost souls together and see them safely home. I have faith in her leadership ability.
We halt for the night in a narrow canyon with a shallow cave. As the sun leaves the sky, I shiver. Shanna covers my nakedness with a bit of fur and Marna hugs me to her breast and whispers words of love.
I manage to sip a portion of broth that Solana has heated for us. “You all need this nourishment more than I.” My protests are in vain.
“Do not speak this way,” Marna scolds me. “Drink. It will make you stronger. You must fight on, my beloved. Do not give up on us…Do not give up on me.”
It breaks my heart. I must pretend for her sake.
Dear, gentle Marna, so fierce a warrior, so stubborn and wise, but so gentle and patient with me. I long to tell her that the Goddess has visited me several times. I am prepared. I am not afraid. She has shown me visions of the lands beyond this infernal rock and sand, this barren place of oppressive heat. I can see great, lush, green valleys, flower-filled meadows, smooth, clear streams and lakes teeming with fish. I close my eyes and smile through the pain.
Someday, my sisters will live in beautiful huts and peace will be restored. Our daughters will know great happiness. The Amazon Nation will spread into many lands. My sisters will live and prosper far into the future, not as a nation perhaps, but as strong independent women, bringing courage and strength, wisdom and beauty to all they meet. At times, they will recognize their fellow sisters and band together in pairs or groups. Sometimes, just one or two will work to bring harmony and peace to a village or country. They will be strong; they will have great power. The Goddess has promised. She has shown me the way. I must convince Marna that the Amazons will survive … somehow.
May the Goddess give m
e the time and the strength.
Now, I place my hand in Mama’s. She kisses my cracked lips and lets my head press against her breast. I hear the strong, familiar, rhythm of her heartbeat. It comforts me.
“Sleep, dear one,” she murmurs. “I love you with all my heart. I will love you always.”
“…And forever,” I whisper.
Our camp overlooks the broad and barren valley so recently traversed, an uncompromising landscape of rock with a scattering of strange plants, a land thirsty for the healing properties of life giving water. The oppressive heat continues into the nights making it impossible to sleep. Our skin is dried and blistered … we are dirty and short of temper, but we cling together for therein is our only salvation.
I see Leeja losing her grip on life; even her desire to continue is threadbare—the fabric tearing.
“Don’t give up, my dearest one. Soon it will rain, the grass will green and flowers will blossom from the dirt and rock.”
“It is hard, my Marna,” she says. “The pain is relentless. My wounds refuse to heal and evil has entered my body.”
“Don’t speak that way.” I hold her in my arms.
“It is too hot, even to embrace.”
“I know, dearest one, but there will be time for that later when the land is lush again and the rain falls from the sky to renew our life and all life.”
My words speak of hope when there isn’t any. My arms speak of a love that will soon be taken from them, and already, I feel the shriveling of my heart. How will I go on without my Leeja? I have been a brave warrior, a wise counselor to the younger members of my tribe only because she was the woman who encouraged me. Now, even as I try to give her hope, I am losing mine. We have come to this … this desolate mountain overlooking the valley of Tartarus from whence there can be no escape.
“Do you remember, Leeja, the stories our mothers told us when we were children?”
“I do.”
Her fevered eyes brightened and I was able to again see the pride behind them.
“I will never forget the stories,” Leeja said, her voice croaked with dryness, her lips cracked with fever, “though this cursed land threatens to wither everything including our memories.”
I kissed Leeja’s forehead and felt the heat of the evil thing that was consuming her. Keep talking, I told myself. As long as you keep her talking, she won’t leave.
“What a time it was when our long-ago grandmothers built rafts of reeds and left their homeland to travel across the great water. Imagine, seeing the home land you had known forever fade into the distance and seeing nothing ahead of you except water, and not knowing if there was any land out there, on the other side of the setting sun.”
“I’d rather it be endless water than this dirt and dust.”
“Whatever they thought to find, Leeja, they must have felt it better that staying where they were.”
“Why did they leave?”
“Hunger, drought.” I thought about it for a minute and remembered another story I had heard when I was a small child. “There were evil men … tribes who came from the North … who came in such numbers that our people couldn’t fend them off. They raped the women and made slaves of our children.”
“How did our long-ago grandmothers find their way across the water without landmarks to guide them?”
Leeja had heard the stories, as had I. She knew the answers, so she was keeping me talking, too. She must feel as I do, that talking would shield against the death that threatened to separate us.
“The Gods sent the Water People to guide them, the finned ones who flew through the water like birds through the sky. They would leap, these Water Beings, high into the air. Sometimes, they leapt over the raft and dropped fish food for our long-ago grandmothers to eat.”
“Yes, Marna, and they stayed right with them until our long-ago grandmothers arrived safely on a new shore.”
“We should have been there, Leeja, you and I.”
“In a way we were and still are …we’re the end of a long line of Grandmothers who never gave up the search for a better life.” Her smile relieved momentarily the pain that was etched into her features. “And what of Taceesha’s band? I wonder how they are faring?”
“Ah yes, my headstrong, younger sister.”
“How long, Marna, since they split from us … three, four moons?”
“Longer. We have lost count of the seasons for this is the place the seasons forgot.”
“Taceesha is young, Marna, but she’s not headstrong. You only say that because she’s your sister, and you worry about her. I saw the sadness in your eyes the day you and she drew sticks to decide which paths to follow.” Leeja paused long enough to catch her breath. “We’ll rendezvous with Taceesha and her band again … when we get beyond this cursed land.”
“I am sure, Leeja, that they are safe. After all, the young girls travel with them, those of age to bear daughters … if they can find men worthy to plant the seeds. Our future lies with them. Taceesha knows that and she will lead them well.” I had read the future though, even that day when she and I drew sticks … I knew then, we were destined not to meet again but the strength of our grandmothers stayed with me so I never gave up hope … until now, that is, as I watch my Leeja slipping away.
“Marna, hold me, take me this last time in your arms and let me feel the touch of your soft lips on mine.”
I draw her to me and kiss her gently. “Stay with me, Leeja, for I will never leave you.”
“I will not leave you either. Even though I will reside with the Great Goddess, the Mother of all Gods, I will be here with you.” She pauses, catching her breath. I can see the light dimming in her eyes, as if a shadow is crossing her sun.
“I will always be with you, Marna, loving you and looking out for you. You will know that I am with you when the wind touches your cheek and when life-giving rain falls upon your body … I will be there in the wind and in each raindrop, for I have seen the Goddess’s Garden and I know what awaits me there. And when She calls for you, I will be waiting to greet you at the garden gate and we will walk, together again, through fields of flowers.” She pauses, a long absent smile upon her face. “It is a place, Marna, where fruit trees grow in abundance and sunshine polishes the apples, where vegetables ripen on the vine and birds fill the morning with song.”
“I love you so much, Leeja,” I say, trying to contain the tears that dry before they are shed. I hold her to me, and kiss her crusted eyes, her dried and cracked lips. “I will love you always.”
“And forever,” she responds, before the rattle in her throat tells me that she has left quietly and peacefully like the sun setting over a distant ocean. The light that brightened my life has been extinguished.
I look up to see Peli, Shanna, and Solana standing, heads bowed, behind me. As they begin to keen, I sob dry tears.
We place Leeja’s body in a shallow cave and pile rocks in front of the entrance. A few moments before we seal it completely, and while there is room enough for me to crawl inside, I turn to the others, “I want to say good bye one last time.”
I wriggle through the almost sealed entrance and kneel beside Leeja. The others move away to allow me a moment of privacy.
I take the medallion she has worn so proudly and pull my own from my neck. The surfaces, now pressed together, create a heat that warms my hand and heart. “Oh, my Leeja, we have been so blessed, I doubt there can ever be another love as great as ours.”
I lay the medallions on a recessed shelf along the wall behind Leeja’s head, high above her. “May they guard you as you sleep, dear one. Perhaps, some day, another worthy couple will discover them and know the passion we possessed. I hope I kiss Leeja’s cooling checks and her lips that no longer respond.
Slowly and methodically, I draw my dagger. “Where you go, I go.”
There is no pain. I do not feel the blade enter my chest. I am aware only momentarily of my blood pouring forth. I collapse on top of Leeja and allow the dar
kness to surround us.
Chapter One
September 1999
Arizona’s Superstition Mountains
“Dammit all to hell! I’m an archaeologist not a babysitter!” I kicked a small stone and watched it rattle along the rocky slope in front of me until it settled at the base of a Prickly Pear Cactus. A Poor-Will whistled in the distance.
Pup, my five year old, half wolf companion, nuzzled his head against my hip. I leaned over and scratched behind his ears, noting a hint of sympathy in his bright yellow eyes.
” ‘Kim, you’re the best,’ Curtis had said, as if flattery would sway me. ‘Take her under your wing. Teach her the reality of what it means to be an accomplished archaeologist.’ Can you believe that, Pup? The nerve of it.”
He snorted and shook himself. I smiled in spite of my anger. Sometimes, I swear that animal knows just what I’m saying.
We stood on the ridge and breathed in the cool night air. I felt my initial anger subside in the presence of such peaceful surroundings. A full moon spread its eggshell white blanket over the mysterious Superstition Mountains of Arizona. Below us, in the Valley of the Sun, the city lights dimmed the stars as if trying in their own way to deny all that was not man made. Only a few, unidentifiable, rustles and squeaks, and the occasional cry of a coyote broke the silence.
These days my imagination invented strange shapes and I saw visions in the shadows. Perhaps I’d been an archaeologist too long. Searching for hidden answers in the dirt and dust of time is so much a part of who I am that there are times when I am unable to define the moments of my own reality as distinctly separate from the ancient lives I seek.
Tomorrow is going to be a trying day. Frederick Lane Curtis is a wealthy, powerful man. As Chairman of the Curtis Foundation, he controls the grant money for my expedition.
“Why is my funding contingent upon making his daughter my assistant?” Or is it? He didn’t say that but… I pulled the collar of my jean jacket up around my neck. I hadn’t met Priscilla Josephine Curtis, but I was familiar with her reputation as a spoiled little rich girl. After earning her doctorate from Boston University, she had worked for four years at various sites on three continents, and had published several excellent papers. If she would focus, she could make a name for herself in archaeology. Unfortunately, she was a playgirl, a jet setter, whose idea of the good life was the party circuit.
