Amethyst- Bow and Arrow

by M. D. Grimm

  "Lansa, find Grekel. Bring him here."

  I knew fasions hated wichtln, but he would follow his Commander's orders. Lansa squawked once before disappearing into the sky. I swung around and raced toward Geheimnis. I jumped, ducked, swerved around trees. The few animals out in the snow scattered, perhaps sensing the fury tightly restrained inside me.

  I bared my teeth and ran faster, my lungs and legs burning. The mountain Geheimnis rested upon loomed up, large and sharp. I raced toward the base and to the secret platform Morgorth had built for me. It wasn't moving fast enough, but I couldn't change that. So I let my mind race ahead. Strategies formed; beasts I would employ to help entered my mind. I knew what I would do the moment I reached the top.

  My nimble feet walked easily along the small ledge that jutted from the walls of Geheimnis. I reached the landing before the front doors and shoved them open. They protested slightly, but like everything else here, the enchantments knew me.

  The amethyst pendant, Morgorth's gift to me, hung heavily from my neck. I gripped it in my fist as I strode into the castle, my footsteps echoing slightly.

  "Grendela!"

  Almost instantly, the boygles appeared and shuffled forward, their matriarch in the lead. Her intense dislike and suspicion were still plain on her face.

  I nocked an arrow and aimed it at a male standing just to the right of her.

  "An army from the northern kingdom is invading, Grendela. You will assist your commander."

  She sneered. "You are not my Master. You are nothing to me. I follow no one but the Dark Mage."

  My heart clenched. I let the arrow fly. It lodged into the male boygle's neck, and he fell to the floor, dead.

  "It was not a question, Grendela. It was a command." I nocked another arrow and aimed it at a female boygle standing to her left. The other boygles shifted restlessly, fear in their eyes. Creatures like these responded to fear. They would only follow the strongest; their loyalty was won by strength of arms. That was how Morgorth had claimed them. And that's what I had to do.

  I didn't want to do this, but I had no choice. It was time they accepted me.

  "Do you think our master would appreciate his subjects bickering while his home lay under siege? Do you think he'd be so forgiving?"

  Grendela's eyes flickered. She had understood my choice of words, what they meant. Our master. I'd put myself as one of his subjects, not as his equal. Only now did I realize the boygles hated me because they truly feared I would make their master weak. They were powerful because their master was powerful. If they sensed weakness, they would stamp it out. I had to show them that I didn't weaken Morgorth, and that I was just as much a minion as they were.

  Even though, in reality, that wasn't the case.

  "He left me in charge of guarding his home while he was away," I continued. "I am his commander. He chose me. If you hinder my ability to protect what is his, I won't be forgiving, and I assure you, neither will he. So what will it be?"

  I raised my bow slightly, letting her know that I would shoot another boygle if she continued her resistance.

  Grendela stared at me, contemplating my words. I kept my face hard, my eyes cold.

  "Well, boygle? What will it be? Death or obedience?"

  Something shifted in her eyes. Her mouth quirked. She bowed her upper body, the rest of the boygles mimicking her.

  "What do you command of us?"

  I kept my relief inside and off my face. I lowered my bow but didn't remove the arrow.

  "Half of you stay in here. Half of you hide within the caves. I will bring the invaders to you."

  She nodded.

  I finally returned the arrow to my quiver before racing up the stairs. I kept climbing higher, heading toward the towers. I needed to get eyes on my enemy. I needed to know particulars, especially how many I was dealing with.

  It had been awhile since I'd been this active, in real combat. Too long. I was out of shape. I pushed past my fatigue, my burning muscles and lungs. While my legs had gotten plenty of exercise climbing up and down the stairs of my home, it was a far cry from the struggles of battle. I should pace myself, but I doubted that would be an option.

  I burst onto one of the towers, and cold, strong wind blasted me instantly. I gritted my teeth and staggered forward.

  The gargoyles leapt from their perches to crouch before me. Three large eyes ringed around their heads, and wings larger than their bodies were folded behind their backs. Long legs and arms ended with serrated claws that could rip through even the toughest trul hide. Morgorth had built them out of stone and breathed life into them. They were one of his most beautiful and terrifying creations.

  "I need eyes."

  One of them turned and crouched deeper. I leapt onto his back before he jumped off the tower, his stone wings spreading elegantly to easily hold him in the air. It should be impossible, but magick could do many wondrous things. It also helped that Morgorth was brilliant.

  I guided the gargoyle to the northeast, keeping him high in the sky, letting the dark winter clouds cover us as much as possible. Despite the heavy coat I wore, I shivered, the cold biting into my exposed flesh and trying to find its way through the fabric. I gritted my teeth and endured. We searched for a time, too long for my liking, before I found the invaders. I thanked my keen eyes as I discerned about one hundred troops on foot. Not many. They were trying to remain undetected.

  I urged the gargoyle to follow the small army, and I recognized a figure, without a uniform, at the front. My eyes widened. It was a mage. They were being led by a mage. Well, this certainly complicated matters immensely. I could deal with soldiers easier than I could with mages. Morgorth was the only mage I knew, and despite his timidity around me, I'd seen what he was capable of. He was powerful, skilled, and terrifying when he was in the mood to be.

  If this mage was even half as powerful as Morgorth... Fear clenched my gut. Once again, I contemplated sending a querian to Morgorth. But, again, I rejected the idea. I hardened my will and marked the location of the army. Then I urged the gargoyle back to the castle. He had barely landed when I jumped off.

  "Invaders. Ready yourselves and watch for my signal. Tell the other gargoyles."

  They nodded.

  I sprinted down the stairs and was soon in our bedroom. I stripped and opened a trunk set against the wall. Clothes that Morgorth had enchanted for me lay within. I pulled out leggings along with a tunic that was enchanted to hide my presence not just from eyes, but from other senses. The greatest advantage of this tunic was that I could wear my heavy winter coat over it and the magick would still hide me. Apparently, he'd had small bits of crystal interwoven with the fabric when the tunic had been made, and all he needed to do was charge it to keep the magick active. While I knew how to quiet my presence from enemies, I could always use more help. And it comforted me to wear something Morgorth had made with his own two hands.

  I also slipped on the leather vest I'd worn during the necromant battle -- the one Morgorth had made to protect me against magick, blades, and whatever else an enemy might throw at me. It had saved my life several times during the battle. I would need it if I was to stand against a mage.

  I then turned to a small pack, one that sat in a corner, seemingly forgotten. But it wasn't. I'd carried that pack with me since I'd completed my training and became an official member of my tribe. It was a little torn, a little frayed, but the material was sturdy and could withstand a considerable amount of punishment. I dropped to my knees in front of it, cursing my trembling hands. I hadn't opened this pack since coming to Geheimnis, since washing off the paint across my eyes that proclaimed that I was on a hakum.

  Opening the pack, I took out two small jars. One had black paint, the other purple. The colors of my tribe. I also pulled out a small mirror. Pulling my hair back into a braid, I unscrewed the tops of the jars and began to apply the paint. War paint.

  I covered my face and neck with the purple. It clung to me like a second skin and would only w
ash off with a special solution in another jar in the pack. It felt good and right to once again don the paint. It would mean nothing to the army, to the mage I would fight, but it would mean everything to me. I would know what this paint meant, and what I was planning to do to those who threatened my home.

  The black paint covered my eyes vertically, and I applied it carefully, knowing firsthand how badly the paint could sting the eyes. After I was done, I stared into the mirror, taking a deep breath to steady myself. I hadn't looked into this face in years. I'd been in battles before, often against other dialen tribes or against glenshods. Those memories came back to me, and my hands stopped trembling. I'd survived those battles. I would survive this one. I had to.

  I put the jars away after using a little bit of the solution to clean my hands, then stood. I grabbed a length of cloth before tying on my boots and pulling my winter coat back on. Then I grabbed my bow and quiver, along with a canteen of water. I strapped two short swords around my waist and tied a length of rope to my belt.

  I raced back outside, used the lift down to the ground, and burst onto the forest floor. Dropping to my knees, I shoved snow away to reveal the hardened ground underneath. I used some of the water in the canteen, which was warmer than the snow, to soften the ground. Beating it with my hands, I loosened the dirt, and with a little more water, managed to make mud. I undid my hair before pushing the mud through it. After braiding my hair again, this time with the mud, I twisted it close to the base of my head, and covered it with the length of cloth, making sure not even one strand escaped.

  A mage could do a lot with just one strand. And there would be no defense against it.

  Standing, I looked at the trees. "Prepare yourselves. We go to war."

  They rustled, cracked, and groaned. I took that as eagerness.

  Chapter Ten

  Many years earlier

  Fray caught me on the jaw, and my head snapped back. I gasped and doubled over, holding my face.

  "Damn the Hunter! Are you trying to break my jaw?" My voice was heavy with a whine.

  Fray rolled his eyes. "I only tapped you."

  "You did not!"

  Fray sighed impatiently. "If you can't take the beatings, you can't win a battle. It's that simple."

  I tried not to pout, but the urge was strong. In the past, this was the point where I would usually give up and walk away, and then Fray would yell at me, taunting me. But not anymore. I was going to stick it out. I had to.

  Fray had the same stature as me, and we were the same height. But he wasn't gawky or awkward; he was muscled, and three years older than me. His hair was a stark black, currently braided behind his head. His face was thin, his nose a little too long to be handsome. His brows were thick, and his eyes were deep set and inquisitive.

  "Come on, Aishe." Encouragement was in his voice. "Just listen to what I'm telling you. Take my advice. Ready?"

  I shook my head but recovered my stance anyway.

  "Block my punches, but also look for any opening I might give you. You always have to think at least three moves ahead. Plan out your attack. Analyze your opponent, his height, his weight, whether he has an established fighting rhythm. If you're lucky, you only have to throw less than ten punches to disable your opponent."

  I blinked. "Seriously?"

  Fray smiled and nodded. "Ready?"

  I nodded. He struck out, and I managed to block it.

  We practiced in a small clearing not far from the camp. I had taken lessons in hand-to-hand combat, but I lacked practice. Fray was helping me, though I thought he got way too much joy out of it. It was summer, and the sun shone down on us, frying my head and face, causing me to sweat. I'd had to take off my tunic, leaving me only in my leggings. We'd both already taken off our boots. My family was at our southern forest, but in a few weeks we would move back north to escape the searing summers in the south. We were always migrating, always following the herd animals, moving with the seasons. I didn't mind. I liked the constant change of scenery.

  I managed to catch Fray in the stomach, but such was my surprise that I actually found an opening and took advantage of it, there was little strength to the punch. Fray flinched in surprise as well but managed to get his arm inside of mine and shoved it away, leaving me open. I deflected his blow with my other hand before shoving him with all my strength. He staggered backward with a grin.

  "Now you're getting it."

  "Mind if I cut in?"

  I only had a moment to think, by the Hunter, when Wyn wrapped his arms around me and lifted me high into the air. Big and knowing it, Wyn stood several heads above me. I couldn't help but laugh, my legs flailing in the air.

  "Put me down!"

  "And why would I do that?" Wyn laughed and swung me around, making me dizzy. His arms tightly held mine to my sides, but I wasn't afraid. I gripped his hands, knowing he had a secure hold on me.

  "Wyn!" Fray threw his hands in the air. "Why'd you have to do that for? He was actually doing well that time!"

  "All this training he's been doing, it can't be good for him."

  "How can you say that? You've done the same training."

  "So? It comes easily for me, not much need for practice outside the classes."

  "But he needs all he can get!"

  By then, my laughter had died, and I wanted down. I squirmed and whined, "Wyn!"

  He set me on my feet and let go. I staggered, gripping my head. My vision still spun. I managed to turn and stay on my feet. I tried to stare at my brothers, but they just kept moving.

  "I'm not hopeless, you know."

  "We -- we know," Fray said, puzzlement in his tone.

  "I can do this." I set my feet firmly on the ground and stood straight, my hands clenched. "I have to."

  I glared at Wyn, who lifted his hands in surrender. "Never said you couldn't. You're just not a natural."

  "Not all of us can be blessed like you." I crossed my arms over my chest and looked away.

  "That's right," Fray said. He poked Wyn in the chest. "But remember, Aishe, the ones who work hard for something are often better at it than the naturals."

  "Says who?" Wyn said, fisting his hand on his hip.

  "Says me," Fray said with confidence I envied.

  They glared at each other for a tense moment. Then Wyn shot out his hand, tickling Fray right along the ribs. Fray gasped in shock and danced away with a strange snort-laugh. Wyn laughed hysterically before preceding to chase after our brother, and Fray, being well aware of the fact that Wyn liked to tickle until his brothers became sick, ran as fast as he could.

  I watched, smiling. They were ridiculous. Fray was faster than Wyn and sprinted past me with a rush of wind.

  "I'd run if I were you!" he shouted as he passed. I frowned and realized that Wyn had become focused on me as quarry. My eyes widened, and I followed Fray's example. I spun around and ran. I was nearly as fast as Fray and caught up to him shortly.

  "We can't keep this up," I panted.

  "We don't have to. Follow me."

  I followed him to the lake. Wyn was far behind us, but he could follow our tracks without a problem.

  "Once we get to the lake, split off. Go right, I'll go left. Hide. It's time for payback."

  Our eyes met, and our minds came up with the same idea. I grinned widely and had to put all my focus on not falling; that would ruin everything. I tripped a few times but managed to control my awkwardness and jumped over bramble, running around trees, following the dense path to the water.

  "I'll get you! You won't escape!" Wyn laughed as he shouted at us.

  Oh yeah? We'll see.

  The lake suddenly came into view, and we parted, dodging behind trees. The gentle slope of the land met the crystal blue waters of a small, gentle lake. It was full of other tribe children, and their screams and laughter echoed off the surrounding rock.

  I met Fray's eyes across the shore, and we both hunkered down, waiting. It didn't take long for Wyn to arrive. He stopped at the forest li
ne and bent over, grasping his knees, gasping for air. He was a sprinter, not a long-distance runner. We waited, and soon he was straightening, looking around, sweat glistening on his skin. He immediately looked at the ground, trying to find our tracks. But with all the activity the lake had seen that day, ours were mixed with others.

  He huffed and walked closer to the water.

  Fray caught my eye, and he gestured. I nodded and took a deep breath, praying my clumsiness slept for just a little longer. We crept out of hiding and slowly approached our brother. I was careful where I set my feet and was thankful I was barefoot. The sand spread out silently when I walked, and I lifted my hands. Fray did the same and together, right behind our brother, we looked at each other, mouthed, "1... 2... 3!"

  On three, we both shoved with all our strength against Wyn's back. He flew forward, unsuspecting, right into the cool water. The slope to the water might seem gentle, but it was an illusion. The shelf of land dropped off dramatically right as one attempted to step into the water. Wyn sank, and we cheered. I slapped hands with Fray and hooted in laughter.

  Sputtering and shocked, Wyn surfaced in seconds, shoving his hair out of his face. That was when I noticed we weren't the only ones laughing. We had an audience. Many of the children in the lake had watched silently as we attacked and were now cheering us. Everyone loved Wyn and he wasn't a bully, but everyone there had endured one of his tickling fights at least once.

  Wyn laughed as well, slapping the water, roaring with delight.

  "Nicely done!" He congratulated us. "Nicely done. Good teamwork. And you, Aishe." He pointed a finger at me. "I didn't even hear you."

  His compliments made me giddy. I clapped in sheer joy and suddenly thought that water looked really nice. Riding on adrenaline, I charged for the water, let out a yell, and jumped in. The water closed over me, the coolness a sweet relief to the burning sun and my aching legs.

  I surfaced a moment later to see Fray following me. Wyn dragged himself out of the water long enough to take off his tunic and boots. He left his leggings on. He wasn't modest, but like I said, he was a big dialen; it would be indecent if he swam nude. If it was just us brothers, he wouldn't think twice.