Becoming a Warrior

by Moose Tyler

  She stood, opened her eyes, shifted her stance, and tightened her grip on the swords. A few branches twitched. The leaves on the ground crumpled, and in a heartbeat, her attacker was within reach. Amaria shuffled back a few steps and sprang as the opponent dropped to sweep her feet. Amaria crashed down, and the attacker tried to scramble away, but Amaria had the cloak pinned to the earth with her sword. The fabric ripped, and the girl shed the cloth. Though her face was concealed with red clay, the eyes were unmistakable.

  “Sakina?”

  Sakina didn’t answer. She made a move for the blade in the ground, but Amaria secured the weapon. Now that she could see her better, Amaria was certain it was her sister.

  “Cede, Sakina.” Amaria raised her sword.

  Sakina didn’t cede, so Amaria lunged. Sakina flipped backwards and pulled out a weapon.

  Amaria was furious when she saw the blade but careful to control her temper. “So, you are using it?”

  Sakina smiled.

  Amaria snapped her blades together and charged, but Sakina deflected the advance.

  She lowered the gold-tipped blade and relaxed her stance. “I should just give it to you.”

  Amaria didn’t strike, but she didn’t lower her weapon. “That’s funny.”

  Sakina smiled again. “What’s funny?”

  “That you think it’s your blade to give.”

  Amaria attacked, and Sakina dropped to the ground. The camouflage cloak was in her hand before Amaria could readjust. She slung one end, and it wrapped around Amaria’s wrist. Sakina reeled in the catch, and yanked Amaria into a head butt. The blow was jarring, but Amaria shoved Sakina backwards and severed the cloak’s hold. Sakina leapt to her feet and rolled in the cloth.

  The part of the cloak still wrapped around Amaria’s wrist was wound so tight she could feel her heart beating through the fabric. “That’s my sword, Sakina.”

  “Catch me, and you can have the silly blade.” She turned and dashed into the trees.

  With Amaria on her heels, Sakina weaved through the maze. Amaria expected her to use the camouflage and disappear, but she stayed in sight. She made a sharp right, sprinted up a hill, and broke through the tree line. Out in the open, she stretched into a sprint. It was dangerous to get too far behind Sakina because she could disappear in a heartbeat, with or without fancy camouflage.

  Amaria sheathed the sword, put her head down, and sprinted after her sister. She was fast and closed the distance, but just as she was about to catch up, she saw Sakina fling the cloak at the trees in front of her. The cloth wrapped around a branch. Amaria tried to slow down, but she was running at top speed. Before she could change direction, Sakina ricocheted around the trunk and her feet crashed into Amaria’s chest. She flew backwards and smacked into the ground. The bulky sword rammed into her back. She could hardly breathe. Sakina’s knee crashed into her chest and squashed what little air was left.

  Amaria opened her eyes, and Sakina drove the gold-tipped blade into the ground, a braid’s length from her face. “Nothing is yours anymore, Sister.”

  Sakina kicked like a horse. Amaria had been on the receiving end many times before, but for this one, she had put some oomph into it. Amaria scampered to her feet, coughing and wheezing.

  Sakina walked away, and Amaria stood up straighter and steadied her breath. She looked at the blade sticking in the ground. “My will,” she said.

  Sakina turned around. “What?”

  “I have my will. You can keep the sword, Sister. I didn’t cede.”

  Sakina laughed. “You don’t have to cede.” She walked over and yanked the blade out of the ground. “Nor do I.”

  “Of course you do.” Battles in lessons always lasted until someone ceded.

  Sakina started walking across the clearing again. “Not this time,” she said.

  “Why not?”

  She stopped and looked at Amaria. “Because this isn’t part of your lesson, at least not Wanje’s lesson.”

  The words bounced around Amaria’s ears for a few heartbeats before seeping into her head. She looked across the clearing and saw several warriors emerge from the trees.

  “And you thought I didn’t know how to use a blade?” Sakina laughed and tossed it at her. “Suckling.”

  Amaria caught it. The warriors loitering in the trees yelped a few war cries. There were only a handful of spectators, from what she could see, but the laughter that followed the yelps made her cheeks burn. She felt like a suckling.

  The chatter ceased, and the hecklers slipped into the trees as swiftly as they had appeared. Amaria turned to Sakina, but she was gone too. She looked at the sky and cursed. She wanted to dig a hole and bury herself, but there weren’t enough heartbeats. She had gotten off task and was now off course. Even if a giant bird from the north swooped her up and flew her to Mesha Cliff, it was unlikely that she’d finish by midday. She rushed through the trees. As she hurdled the fallen branches and debris that littered the path, she prayed that Wanje would show mercy.

  With extra weapon in hand, Amaria hurried to Mesha Cliff as fast as she could, but her bruised body and ego slowed her pace. As she trekked through the Briar and the Brush, she cursed at Sakina. She had never been particularly kind, but she had never done anything so cruel as to interfere with a lesson. Amaria had decided that, after she returned the scroll to Wanje, she would give the gold-tipped blade to Penelope. She didn’t have a lot of weapons and frequently commented on how pretty it was when Amaria used it in training.

  When she reached the edge of the Brush, Amaria realized she wasn’t as far behind schedule as she thought. The sun was close to reaching the peak of her rise, but she hadn’t heard the horns. The bird’s crow announced the approach of first light, but horns across the island signaled midday and last light. Until she heard the trumpet, there was still a chance she could make it.

  She slipped onto the main path at the northern bathing pools. Citizens would have been swarming the area had it been first light. Now, only one or two lingered in the water. The rest were tending to chores.

  Scaling Mesha Cliff from its backside was easier than from the southern shore. In times of peace, four repelling ropes were available to assist climbers. Amaria skirted around the dorms and past the lagoon before rushing to the base. All four ropes were gone.

  “Of course,” she muttered.

  The trick to climbing the backside of Mesha Cliff without rope was to take the route underneath the waterfall. All others were decoys. The routes started easy, but eventually the hold options ran out.

  The water pelted Amaria’s back as she flattened against the base and hurried under the fall. Once underneath, the holds were slick but large, and she only slipped twice before reaching the platform and dragging herself over the ledge. Once on top, the path on the left bottlenecked through the trees and opened into a clearing. Wanje was waiting by the first orange-ringed berry bush on the north side.

  Amaria sprinted. With her free hand, she reached into the satchel and fumbled for the scroll. She pulled out the water pouch, tossed it over her shoulder, and reached again. There was nothing else inside. She looked down for visual proof. The bag was empty. The scroll was lost somewhere between where she was now and where she had been. The idea paralyzed her from the waist down. She stumbled and her legs folded under her. She face-planted into the ground and slid the rest of the distance to her teacher. When Amaria finally grinded to a stop, she heard the midday horns blow.

  Wanje clapped. “My, what a finish!”

  Amaria stood up and spat the earth from her mouth.

  Wanje extended her hand.

  Amaria spat again. “I don’t have the scroll.”

  She put her hand back in her robe’s fold.

  Amaria wiped the dirt off her tongue. “I found it, but then I lost it.”

  “How did you lose it?”

  “I�
�m not sure. I might have left it by the source in Plush Ravine.”

  “So, you didn’t lose it, you left it?”

  Amaria looked at Wanje. She didn’t yell and the veins in her neck didn’t throb like Desh’s did, but Amaria had no doubt that she was about to dole out a punishment far worse than anything she had endured before. She dropped to her knees and lowered her head.

  “Stand up, Amaria. I’m not bringing out the cane.”

  Amaria stood but kept her head bowed.

  “I’m sure something happened. What was it?”

  Amaria wanted to tell her about how Sakina had tricked her into thinking she was part of the lesson, but she had trouble with the words. “Sakina,” she muttered.

  “What does Sakina have to do with your choices?”

  “She attacked me.”

  Amaria looked at Wanje, but her glare had not softened. Amaria looked back at the ground.

  “Surely you could have evaded her and finished your task.”

  Amaria felt her cheeks burn. “I thought she was part of the task, ma’am.”

  Wanje stepped closer, and Amaria shuddered.

  “I asked you to do four things,” she said, circling. “One, choose a weapon.” Wanje knocked the gold-tipped blade out of Amaria’s hand and had disarmed the ones in the sheath in two heartbeats. “I would have overlooked two swords due to the creativity of the selection, but now there are three.”

  Amaria looked at the collection on the ground. The hook at the base of the handles that held the swords together had bent. More than likely they wouldn’t snap together until the latch was repaired.

  “Two, use the southern path to meet me by first light. You used the correct route but were a tad late, were you not?”

  Amaria cursed in her head. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Three, retrieve the scroll in Plush Ravine.”

  Amaria looked at Wanje. “I did. Great Mother as my witness.”

  Wanje stopped circling and smiled, but it didn’t feel friendly to Amaria. “Yes, and I’m sure you thought, what a glorious gift bestowed upon me. No doubt you dropped to your knees and vowed to cherish it always.”

  Amaria didn’t know how to respond. She shifted her stance. “Well, it was a pretty scroll.”

  Wanje circled again. “Which you failed to return by midday, which was the fourth and final part of the task.”

  Wanje stopped and pulled a scroll from the fold of her robe. “You just missed Sakina. She said you left this in Plush Ravine. Wanted to make sure you got it back.”

  Though she was unsure of Sakina’s motivations for returning the scroll, she was thankful she had, and now, the mystery of what had happened to the repelling ropes at Mesha Cliff was solved.

  “That was kind of her,” said Amaria.

  “Yes, but I think I will hold on to it for now. Until you’re less likely to lose it.” She signaled to someone in the bushes behind her. “Sakina also told me about your disagreement over this blade.”

  A girl ran over and bowed. Wanje motioned to the swords. “Take these away.”

  The girl pick them up, and Amaria wanted to dispute but knew she couldn’t. She watched in silence as they were lugged away.

  “You have more blades than you know what to do with,” said Wanje, “yet you were so fixated on collecting another that you forgot about your task.”

  Wanje preached more than Desh did, and the sermon was about to heat up.

  “I am disappointed in your performance, Amaria.”

  The weight of Wanje’s words hit hard. Amaria’s head drooped. She was hungry, embarrassed, and tired. She had been stripped of her weapons, failed her second lesson in Quest Training, made a suckling of by Sakina, and, worst of all, had disappointed Wanje. The only thing left was to suffer the punishment.

  “To help you better manage your heartbeats, you will report to Gilda and bring the orange-ringed berries here for the harvesters to repurpose.”

  Amaria nodded. The healers’ camp was at the top of the Farmlands, so the hike to Mesha Cliff from there wasn’t far. She had received worse punishments.

  “The harvesters will give you fresh berries to take back to Gilda by way of the southern shore. Both trips must be completed by first light.”

  Amaria cursed in her head.

  “To help you stay on task, you will carry the berries until I tell you to stop.”

  Whenever she had been disciplined before, Desh had always told her how many moons it would last. Amaria looked at Wanje hoping she would give an indication, but she moved on.

  “To help manage your greed, you will give away half your weapons,” she said.

  Amaria was stunned. “What? To who?”

  “A worthy beneficiary.”

  It was official. Wanje’s punishment was beyond unfair, far worse than anything Desh had ever given.

  “I will send someone for the donation in—,” Wanje paused, “what do you think, three days? You have so many to sort through.”

  Amaria nodded but said nothing. She stared at the ground and clenched the muscles in her jaw and fists.

  “I assure you the charity will be appreciated.”

  Amaria was furious about being forced to give away her weapons. She had worked hard for most of them. She was always training, always competing, always outperforming everyone else, and the one lesson she didn’t do her best in, and she gets slapped with a harsh sentence that seemed without end. She wanted to spit, but Wanje would probably assign another punishment to help her better manage her saliva.

  Wanje motioned to the bushes, and a horse, guided by a few harvesters, trotted into the clearing pulling a cart with a large bundle strapped to it.

  She looked at Amaria. “Oh, good. You have a rope.” She motioned to the coil across Amaria’s chest. “You can take this load to Gilda now. Regina will meet you here before first light to pick up your return.”

  Amaria removed the rope.

  “You won’t be needing that either.”

  She took off the sheath. Three citizens heaved the bundle onto her back. Wanje gave one of them the rope, and they secured the pack. When they stepped away, Amaria stumbled forward to adjust to the weight, nearly ramming into the horse. The horse reared, and Amaria shuffled backwards. The harvesters rushed to calm the horse.

  Wanje waited until Amaria was steady before continuing. “I wish we could have chatted about the scroll and other things. Unfortunately, the lesson is over. I’ll send a bird about your next one. I’ll see you tonight at the council meeting.” She bowed. “May the Great Mother be with you.”

  Amaria was already bent in bowed position. Any further, and she’d topple over.

  Wanje walked past the harvesters struggling to control the horse. She raised her hand as she passed, and it stopped bucking. She turned to Amaria. “Oh, I almost forgot. Telsa sends her love.”

  Amaria’s knees locked. The weight of the berries shifted forward, pulling her with it. She swayed back, widened her stance, and balanced the load. “Telsa? How is she?”

  Wanje shrugged. “You can see for yourself at the council meeting.”

  Amaria tried to stand taller, but the berry bag kept her hunkered over. “Will I get to talk to her?”

  The sage shrugged before disappearing into the bushes and leaving Amaria wobbling under the weight of her punishment. The heartbeat she was gone Amaria cursed out loud, startling the horse again. Some of the harvesters swore, too. A few looked at her sternly.

  “Sorry,” she muttered before trekking south across the top of Mesha Cliff. Her legs and motivation were like twigs ready to snap. When she reached the southern edge, she cursed again. She should have asked Wanje to send Telsa her love.

  When Amaria’s feet touched the sand at the base of Mesha Cliff, she thanked the Great Mother and prayed that no one besides Her had seen the climb. It was clu
msy, awkward, and painful. Amaria scanned the beach for spectators but, from what she could see, she was alone. That would change farther up the coastline.

  She wished she could take a less-crowded way to the healers’ camp. Being a warrior was enough to make her stand out, but she was also popular among the citizens who bet on the Games. The fanfare had its perks. She got larger portions at group dine all cycle and, during Genesis, she was showered with gifts, but there were drawbacks to the fame. She was frequently stopped and asked about her training. She always tried to be polite, but since her defeat, most of the concern was focused on if she thought she could retake the crown, which irritated her.

  “Great Mother willing,” was the answer she recited most.

  On this day, Amaria wasn’t sure if she had the energy to be polite, but the other passages that allowed her to avoid social encounters were too narrow or overgrown for the sack of berries on her back.

  When she reached the main path, it was thick with citizens returning to chores after midday dine. She willed her legs to move and started jogging as she passed two girls.

  “Hello, Amaria.”

  Amaria forced herself to smile, but she didn’t know if the corners of her mouth lifted. She passed more citizens.

  “Should I get you a cart,” one asked.

  Amaria picked up the pace. “I’m fine.”

  When she reached the common area, she was forced to slow down. The space around the archway and along the path was packed. She scanned the faces as she hurried along, praying she wouldn’t see anyone she knew.

  “Great Mother, please. Not like this. Not today,” she mumbled.

  The younger warriors were just now finishing Sea Training and would likely be in route to the common area. She nearly ran over a few citizens, but they dove out of the way.