Ban Talah

by A. L. Duncan

  Talah felt now was a good time to ask another question, however ignorantly human she was afraid it would sound. “Why me?”

  “You are Ban Talah. This is your chosen path.”

  “I chose this path?”

  “When among us, it was your decision to be born in this time, by parents of your choice, to a certain destiny of service for mankind. Only Ban Talah can release the darkness that has been forced from a sigh, born from a whisper. Darkness that is mortal bred.”

  “Why don’t I remember any of this?”

  The elder-woman spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “As all humans, you chose not to recall your previous existence in order to better serve the human race. It was necessary to be of likeness. To teach them of their enlightenment, you had to learn of your own.”

  Talah suddenly felt more human than ever, dropping eye contact. “I am nothing like you.”

  “We are all one, Ban Talah. Faith in yourself is faith in all. To teach wisdom in others is in turn a step closer to your own well-being. Compassion is a breath of our voice. Be a compassionate warrior,” she added in a motherly tone, placing the Crane Bag over Talah’s shoulder. “And your belief in your faith will carry Earth through its darkness.”

  A male druid approached the women, a rainbow-like web strung between his fingers.

  “Take this spider’s web as a mirror to the water of vision,” the woman instructed. “It will assist you on your journey.”

  Talah reached out and took the web from the man’s hands carefully. It beheld a strange flow, not unlike the threads of the universe, if there was such a sensation. After placing the web in the Crane Bag, Talah looked up and staggered at her surroundings.

  The cavern had disappeared and she found herself standing alone before a great burial mound. All around her she cast an eye, astounded. She was in the midst of the vast moors and distant mountain peaks of her homeland—the Highlands. Within her mind, and without, the male-female voice of the Ancient Ones spoke once again.

  “Daughter of Tlachtga, this rocky Tor is the gateway to the realm of Queen Liadona and the Land of Women.”

  A blinding light reached out to Talah from the threshold and engulfed her being. She barely had time to squint before the light faded and formed into a figure before her. A woman with flowing blonde hair and blue eyes smiled sweetly and took Talah by the hand. Her gown was ivory white and clung to her torso as a breath, from which a faint apparition of wings would appear now and again.

  “I am Gwynir,” the young woman said. “Come Ban Talah, as I present you to our queen.”

  Talah was led past a vast assembly of women in the most ornate of throne rooms she had ever witnessed. Gilded columns of quartz carved deeply with entwining colors reached ceilings higher than any cathedral. And all around the air was filled with the fragrance of fresh blooms and fragrant herbs. On one side of the throne stood a golden acorn tree and on the other, a golden apple tree, both of which were sacred to this land’s immortality. Fountains and pools landscaped the chamber in soothing, gentle waterfalls, and their waters glimmered from the rays of sunlight that poured through the giant glass roof and towering, slender windows.

  The queen wore a flowing gown of mist green, the folds of which were wrapped about an arm giving her the appearance of a Greek goddess. She held herself regally. Her countenance softened as she gazed with dark brown eyes upon Talah’s symmetrical figure. A tiny purse of the lips issued her approval of this warrior.

  The queen greeted Talah with cordial air. “Good morrow, Daughter of Tlachtga. We’ve waited a long time for your visit. I am Queen Liadona.”

  The Queen stood eye to eye with Talah, which for Talah was a refreshing sight. She smiled back and took the queen’s extended hand, bowed and kissed her soft, long fingers. Dark, almond-shaped eyes twinkled as she rose. Talah sensed a blush on the queen’s beautiful, dark complexion.

  “It is my honor,” Talah replied.

  Liadona withdrew her hand and composed herself. Raising an eyebrow of curiosity, she spoke as if she and Talah were the only two in the great hall. “More radiant than imagined.” Liadona began to circle Talah, eyes scrutinizing every line and muscle. “I am to understand you have quite a flare for literature.”

  Talah clasped her hands behind her, uneasy at all the attention. “I am learned.”

  “Good. Then, we shall see just how learned you are.”

  “If it pleases Your Majesty.”

  Liadona stood startling close and whispered in Talah’s ear. “Oh, it pleases.” Talah caught the woman’s slight smirk from the corner of her eye as the queen added good-naturedly, “Shall we begin?”

  Liadona stood square before Talah with hands clasped before her. Another woman, wearing mail of a curiously strange and beautiful metal, approached the queen’s side.

  “This is my consort, Elen,” the Queen introduced. “She is also our champion.”

  To that, Talah couldn’t help but notice the fiery anticipation within the warrior’s eyes, hidden tactfully by a well-meaning grin. It seemed this was about to become more than a mental test of literature. The queen breathed an air of satisfaction.

  “Answer poorly, you must endure a strike,” the queen instructed.

  “And if I answer correctly?” Talah asked courtly, exchanging glares with the warrior.

  “Then we move on to the next question.”

  “Not exactly the reply I was hoping for.”

  The queen stepped aside. “Tell me three things which strengthen custom.”

  Before Talah could think, much less respond, the Blackwood staff struck her injured side and sent her to her knees. Gasps arose from the crowd of onlookers.

  Liadona bent down and murmured close to Talah. “Your reply must be swift else you shall receive a swift reply.”

  Talah glared at her from the corner of her eye while staggering to her feet. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Pulling her shoulders back she took in a painful breath then continued. “Three things which strengthen custom are fairness, power, and authority.”

  “Excellent. Three things which weaken custom?”

  “Oppression, doubtful origin, and bad example.” The last, Talah stressed, wincing at Elen.

  “Three spiritual laws which illuminate darkness.”

  “Knowledge, Nature, and Truth.”

  The queen smiled. “I want to hear a poem. A stanza or two from...Aneirin.”

  The champion sensed Talah’s hesitation and swung her staff squarely, though not before Talah could swiftly duck the blow.

  “Men went to Catraeth with the dawn,” she exclaimed, jumping over the back swing. “Their bravery cut short their lives. They drank yellow mead, sweet, ensnaring, for the space of a year the minstrel was merry.”

  To that, the crowd burst into whoops and hollers. Liadona as well seemed pleased at such a display. Her hand drew up to calm the voices and continued the challenge.

  “How does one maintain the natural order of things?”

  “To move clockwise as the sun.”

  “And the Guardian of all knowledge?”

  “Memory.”

  The queen smiled delightfully. “And the center of the world?”

  Up until that moment Talah felt proud to know all of these simple answers to questions she had learned as a child. However, with this one, she was at a loss. And the eager grin about the champion’s mouth grew wide with a triumphant growl. Talah threw a hand between them, halting Elen in her attack stance.

  “Hold!” Talah shouted. “I do know this.” After a breath, she finally admitted with a shrug. “I just cannot remember.”

  The staff swung and the champion cried out victoriously. Talah had jumped back and began deflecting blow after blow, now and again being thwacked in the back or stabbed in the gut. The throng of women in the great hall was divided as many shouted Elen’s name, yet many more seemed to be on Ban Talah’s side. With a harsh clip at her heels, Talah was thrown off her feet and fell on her back with a loud thump. Receiving
a sympathetic roar from the crowd, they quickly turned tumultuous as Talah halted the powerful blow in her grasp just inches from her skull.

  “Between your own two feet,” Talah answered.

  The queen was quick to nod, much to Elen’s dismay. After a pause, she dropped her shoulders in acceptance. Talah was never more grateful to receive a hand to help her back on her feet. Once again the queen silenced the cheers and spoke.

  “Now, Ban Talah, speak to me...my favorite poem.”

  Elen’s eyes widened as her lips curled to a victorious grin. As she stepped back for the impending thrust, Talah spoke and with sweet words astonished her and caused all the court to fall still and silent.

  “Fair Lady, ascend with me to the wondrous land of stars beyond stars and moons beyond moons. Within those heavens silvery pools smile a radiant swoon. I touch your hair of yellow tulip, of primrose and dew and taste your skin sweet and of foxglove’s hue. Descend with me upon the breeze whose majestic kiss entwines our flesh and welcome the delight of candlelight as earth’s waters caress your breasts.”

  Not a word was spoken, not a flutter of wonder expressed. All eyes were upon the queen. A hand stayed Elen’s ready blow. Slowly, Liadona eased herself onto the throne of carved maidens and sheep and laurel groves. There she sat with pensive meditation.

  After a long moment of anticipation she lifted her eyes to Talah and began to clap. The rumble of applause echoed with elated celebration. Elen pulled herself to stand at attention and smiled with a nod of respect. Through the resounding clamor Liadona had not taken her eyes from Talah, and in fact looked upon her more deeply with affection. It was almost as if she enjoyed sharing a deep secret. A raised hand from the queen silenced the hall.

  “It is to your success, Ban Talah, that you have earned equality in the ranks of our best champion,” Liadona announced loudly through the cheers. She continued as a Blackwood staff was thrust into Talah’s hands. “And so, you may defend the challenge justly.”

  Talah stood aghast at the thought of a continuing dual. “There is more?”

  “You may begin.”

  Talah sidestepped a mid-slice and countered with a thrust of her own. Much easier, she thought, with a weapon of her own. Elen backpedaled after a jab in her ribs, grinning at the lucky blow. Wood clashed and blurred from the heated fight, each equal to the other’s challenging moves. The queen sat upon her throne watching with nervous excitement, as did the hushed crowd at the seemingly choreographed dance the two warriors displayed.

  The two clashed wood again and just when Talah thought she anticipated Elen’s next move, the champion feigned a thrust opening Talah’s injured side for the perfect blow. Talah staggered deeply from the crippling pain and cried out, sending chills through the crowd.

  “Now, that’s getting personal,” Talah scowled.

  Talah charged with a war cry, bringing the staff down upon Elen like an axe, splintering the champion’s Blackwood like a toothpick. Eyes wide, Elen stared at her once indestructible weapon before striking out in a sudden flurry of attacks using both pieces as separate weapons.

  Talah deflected her assailant’s tenacity with fervor before ending it with a kick square in her jaw. Elen was driven back, painfully stunned at Talah’s second wind. A final backward thrust of the staff tip to the center chest lifted the champion off her feet with a resounding crack of thunder that echoed through the great hall and trembled the limbs of the assemblage.

  Talah stood overtop the champion with staff tip held at her throat, and for a long moment hadn’t noticed the utter silence that befell the chamber. Gwynir, the young faery-woman whom Talah first met, now appeared before her.

  “Oh, now you’ve done it,” Gwynir whispered, meeting Talah’s eyes. That statement made Talah ruffle her eyebrows reproachfully. “You’ve defeated our champion. No one has ever done that before. You know what that means don’t you?”

  Talah spoke not a word but pulled the staff away and over-stepped the warrior. The fierceness of battle rage was quenched by the sudden twist in her gut from the champion’s stare, and a flash of recent memory recalling a frightened cardinal’s innocent writhing under the throat of her sharpened blade.

  Talah’s eyes locked on to Liadona’s, evenly composed despite the unforeseeable circumstance. Liadona calmly raised herself from the throne and kept her poise. Talah could read the breath of unpreparedness on her soft, parted lips. It was as if the queen had wished for Talah’s victory and then finally realizing it was so, drew hesitant desire.

  “As Tlachtga's daughter, your reputation as leader of many brave warriors suits you well, Ban Talah,” said the queen. “You have indeed demonstrated to us your worth as a patriot to the land and defender of faith to the minions who follow your sword in the newer world above. Pray you, that today is no less a victory for your splendid appetite. Not a native here, nevertheless our victor. To you all,” Liadona continued brightly, “I am pleased to present our new champion!”

  The mass of women expelled a volume of full-throated war cries, cheers, and rejoicing as all scattered about the chamber in festive celebration. Warriors, elves, faeries and the like swarmed in dance, music, and conversation. Elen welcomed Talah with a ritual kiss and embrace. Gwynir giggled joyously to Talah’s sheepish disbelief as wave after wave of women embraced her or slapped her on the back.

  Finally, the young faery-woman took Talah by the hand and with eagerness pulled her toward the queen’s throne. “Come, Ban Talah,” she whispered with excitement. “You must stand with your Queen.”

  Talah stopped short of the throne steps with Liadona eyeing Talah expectantly through the flow of bodies. “I don’t understand,” Talah said.

  Gwynir clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes, feigning disgust. Breathlessly, she replied, “Blessed Talah, you are now to this court our champion. And in being so, Queen Liadona’s new consort.”

  With that, Gwynir pushed Talah up the steps to stand startlingly close to her queen. For the first time, the mighty warrior was at a loss for words. Liadona met Talah’s beautiful amber eyes with sensual pleasure. Her brown cheeks flushed with a warm glow as she smiled.

  “As you must imagine,” Liadona murmured, “I’ve waited a long time for your visit, Ban Talah.” She began to seductively saunter around Talah, running a probing hand over every muscle on her arm, shoulder and back. Leather never felt so good when being touched by another, Talah mused. Flutters burned in her stomach as Liadona stroked the long, hard steel of the sword resting down her back. Liadona drew herself alongside Talah, tracing a finger along her midriff, provoking the warrior to quiver a breath, stirring the taunt muscles to move under the heated touch.

  Composure was something Talah attempted with failing restraint. In fact, she felt sure, up until this moment, she would be indifferent to this woman’s penetrating and seductive voice if not her stunning loveliness. However, it was perhaps by these merits Liadona was Queen. Her curvaceous body and intellectual charm were why many a warrior in tales told wished to stay in the Land of Women.

  “For over a thousand years, tales have been told of the warrior-woman, daughter of the thunder, who would come to us. Now, as a champion of your world and ours, welcome, Ban Talah.”

  Liadona drew near and breathlessly pressed her lips against Talah’s. Instantly, Talah’s resolve melted under the petal-soft sweetness, which intoxicated her full being. Shortly thereafter, the kiss was released and Liadona brushed Talah’s cheek with her own in a steamy embrace, whispering into Talah’s ear.

  “Come. I wish to have you to myself. Away from this.”

  From the balcony where they stood, the view was the loveliest Talah had ever seen. The sky was a deep blue and the richness of the moors grasses made a sharp contrast against the dark and brilliant cut peaks of what was called Mountain of Cailleach or The Veiled One. A breeze combed through Liadona’s curled dark brown hair and caressed her skin. She closed her eyes as if feeling a lover’s touch and sighed deeply.

  “Clev
er, to choose such a poem when one does not know mine,” Liadona mused, turning her head slightly. “A poem as lovely as what you recited could not have had any other meaning than the intimacy with which it was envisioned.”

  Talah met the queen’s grin with her own and propped her elbows on the gray stone ledge. She inhaled the sweet aroma of primroses and glanced toward the mountain.

  “I had to do something,” she exhaled a reply. “Or face Elen’s uncanny ability to find my weakness.”

  “It was beautiful. And it was your favorite.”

  Recalling the poem, Talah was again reminded of its stanzas, and the love by which it was rekindled. Talah could still smell Marion’s scent and feel the softness of her cream-blonde hair, taste the morning dew upon her lips. Marion’s image had come to Talah’s longing heart every night she lay to rest and every night she would fight back the tears that dared to escape, feeling her loss. Talah looked back at Liadona, sensing her eyes upon her.

  Liadona perused her countenance with a soft gaze. “Your eyes hold a distance weighing thoughts from the farthest reaches, untouchable, even to a queen’s charm. Such eyes hold a soul, which hands would grasp to the ends of the earth. Sorrow is felt in your silence, Ban Talah. Sorrow and determination.”

  Talah pulled herself to stand upright. “My heart would faint from a lie if I said I have not been flattered and indeed honored, my Queen. It is to my deepest regret I cannot accept this gracious offer and rank. I am needed elsewhere.”

  The queen looked Talah over slowly with that same seductiveness. “Hmm,” she purred. “Spoken like a true warrior, whose heart is still for another.”

  Talah drew away. “Forgive me.”

  Liadona gazed out over the green moors with long hands resting against the ledge. “There is never darkness here. The sun always shines upon Cailleach, bequeathed us from the songs of the High God. The brief birth of fragrance upon the Mimosa’s feathered bloom holds our strength and spirit. Yet, your coming has brought us a greater enlightenment and a kinder understanding of ourselves. We are not so indestructible here. But you have made us stronger in the knowledge. You have given me a gift.” Taking Talah’s hand in hers she added, “Come. I will now give a gift in return.”