“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 grievi
ng 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 als
o 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.”
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