by Moose Tyler
Bekos brushed her hair from her shoulder. A pungent odor, a mix of burnt wood, fish, and ancient scrolls, hit Amaria’s nose.
“She gets plenty of physical activity, I assure you,” said Wanje.
Bekos grabbed Amaria’s arm. “Good because warriors are most useful when they’re strong.” She patted her bicep and smiled.
Bekos’s teeth were crooked. Some were chipped because she ate rocks and bird talons. The sage who had trained her, Myna, had done the same, or so Amaria had heard.
Wanje shook her head. “Knowledge is as important as might, Bekos. Look at Pathenia, here. One of the strongest women I know, yet not particularly large physically.”
“Yes, yes,” muttered Bekos, “the parchment is mightier than the blade, but it certainly doesn’t hurt to have muscle. Cede to me on this detail, and we’ll move on to more important talk.”
Wanje nodded. “Muscle indeed has it strengths.”
Bekos laughed. The sound crackled inside Amaria’s ears, but it wasn’t loud. It was as if her tongue was nudging the chortle from the back of her throat, forcing it to jam against her teeth and lips before hitting the air, more like a growl than a laugh.
“Clever, clever,” she said, “tell me, Child, where do you hope to take post, once you’ve taken the shield?”
“I will be proud to serve wherever her grace places me,” said Amaria.
“Judging from your interest in competitions, I’d say you won’t be happy with anything other than front line in the north.”
Amaria smiled and shrugged. “I will serve as the queen commands.”
“Amaria knows she has much to learn before she takes the shield,” said Wanje.
“Baw!” Bekos dismissed Wanje with a wave and hobbled away.
Amaria felt the tension in her shoulder relax after Bekos left, but she kept them pulled back and her chin up as she listened to Wanje’s instructions.
“Meet me at Mesha Cliff at first light. Bring your bow and sandals.”
Amaria nodded. “Which ones?”
“The bow is up to you. The sandals, all of them.”
“All of them?”
“Surely you only have a few pairs, but yes, all of them.”
Mother chimed in. “She has five.” She looked at Amaria. “If you count your water sandals.”
Wanje nodded. “The lesson will last a full day,” she said to Amaria, “so bring something to eat.”
Wanje bowed before leaving the dock. Bekos followed. As she passed, she whispered to Amaria, “Consider a blade, as well.” She smiled. “May the Great Mother be with you, Pathenia,” she said louder.
Pathenia bowed. Bekos glided across the docks, and she and Wanje disappeared down the path.
Amaria looked at her mother. “Does Bekos make your arm hair stand like she does mine?”
Mother laughed. “Yes. All the time.” She pulled Amaria in for a hug. “You’re a good daughter.”
Amaria smiled as her mother hugged her tight.
“What do you say we go get some bread and honey,” she said, walking down the dock with Amaria pulled close. “My treat. I could use something sweet.”
Amaria pulled away. “What about Day of Praise? You’re not going to worship?”
Mother shook her head. “Not this day. We can rejoice in Her name at home.”
Amaria smiled. “I’ve been telling you that for cycles.”
Day of Praise was every seventh day. After morning dine, citizens would gather in Sacred Meadow and listen to the sermons delivered by the ones who studied at the sages’ temple. Some warriors attended, but many did not. Patrols, duties, and rest took precedent. Amaria normally spent the day training or hanging out with friends. Her mother always gave Gypsus and Fi leave, but not all citizens were as fortunate. Group dine still had to be served, and the fields and game needed to be maintained. Several businesses closed for the day, but Second Hands, Madame Shaw’s, and a few others did not.
After Amaria and her mother had eaten their fill at Honeys, they went home to relax. There, they had played a round of Four Crowns. Her mother preferred card games or Skip the Pebble, but she had made an exception for Day of Praise. While they played, Amaria had confessed her frustrations about her lessons and jealousy for the others who had been assigned duty, but she kept Ursula’s situation close to the armor.
“All warriors travel different paths, but every warrior’s path leads to the same place,” Mother had said.
After midday, she told Amaria that she had volunteered for the hunt party and would leave the next morning. Due to Genesis, a new boat approaching, and the threat of war, the hunt party would be extended and not return until a few days before the holiday.
They enjoyed a simple meal for evening dine, and as they ate, they discussed Telsa’s vision and Sakina’s motivation for volunteering for the mission.
“I’m sure Telsa is perfectly safe at the temple, and Sakina will be just fine. She just wants to carve a place for herself and express her independence.”
While her mother packed for the hunt, Amaria set her clothes out. She collected her sandals and put them in a satchel before stuffing a quiver with arrows – six wood, six metal. After a discussion about it over late tea by the hearth, she decided not to bring a blade, as Bekos had suggested on the dock.
“She is not your teacher,” Mother reminded. “Wanje just said a bow.”
After her mother had said goodnight, Amaria tended the hearth before blowing out the wick and crawling into bed. She still had some kinks in her mind, but the soft mattress underneath her was like soothing cream for the cricks in her body.
The next day, she woke feeling rested and ready for her lesson with Wanje. She entered the main room, but her mother was not there. There was a note beside a satchel on the dining table.
Second Blessing, I pray the Great Mother blesses you with peace and wisdom in your lesson. Watch for Her presence in the trees, and let Her guide your heart and mind. You are my strong one. Be brave. No snooping while I’m away, or the Sacred Peacock will skip our hearth this cycle. Take care of the house, and help Fi and Gypsus when you can. – Love, Mother
Amaria folded the parchment and set it on the table. She looked inside the satchel. It was stuffed with food, enough to last two meals, and a medium water pouch. She smiled. Usually Amaria relished in the independence when her mother went on a hunt, but now, she felt sentimental and missed her company over morning dine.
After she ate, she latched the quiver to her back before slinging the sandal satchel across one shoulder and the food bag across the other. She strapped the yellow bow over that and headed out for her lesson.
Her load was bulky but light as she jogged up the southern shoreline. When she flung her legs over the top of Mesha Cliff, she stood, dusted off her kilt, and jogged the remaining distance to Wanje, who was standing in her usual position across the field.
“Good morning,” Wanje said, as Amaria approached.
“Good morning, Wanje. I hope you slept well.”
Wanje smiled. “I did. Thank you.” She looked at Amaria’s satchels. “Are those your sandals?”
She removed the bow and bags. “One is, the other is food.”
Wanje extended her hand. “The sandals.”
Amaria forfeited her footwear.
“And the ones you’re wearing.”
She was confused but did as she was told.
Wanje put the pair in the satchel with the others. “You can have them back the moon before your quest.”
“What?”
“Yes, and I ask if you acquire new ones that you add them to the stack, as well.”
“Even if the Sacred Peacock brings them?”
“Even if Zeus makes a pair from the fabric of his loin cloth, you will surrender all sandals and footwear.”
Amaria wanted to ask the
purpose, but she knew it was unlikely she’d get an explanation.
Wanje tossed the bag on a blanket beneath the bush. “Let’s walk.”
The sun had only begun sucking the moisture off the ground, and the grass was soft and wet beneath Amaria’s feet.
“I wanted to talk a little about the scroll I gave you.”
The scroll was collecting dust on the table beside Amaria’s bed. She cleared her throat. “Yes, it’s a lovely sketch. Thank you. Mother looks so beautiful.”
Wanje nodded. “Your mother is beautiful. Zeus didn’t fancy her for her sense of humor, though she has a delightful one.”
Amaria gagged and cringed.
Wanje laughed. “You don’t think so?”
Amaria was not blind to her mother’s beauty. Others frequently commented on it at live shows or during the Harvest Festival, occasions when her mother would put more effort into her appearance, but if asked who the most beautiful woman on the island was, Amaria would think of the queen or warriors like Olivia and Janus. Even citizens like the artist Florencia and Madame Shaw, in her younger days, came to mind over her mother. Her mother was – her mother.
“She’s pretty,” said Amaria.
Wanje laughed louder. “I assure you, Amaria, your mother is more than pretty. It’s rare for Zeus to sire two daughters with a mortal. Three? That’s worth a mention in the historical scrolls.”
Amaria’s family had been named in the historical scrolls, though she had never seen it. She hadn’t seen any of the text in those scrolls, except the excerpts she had read for Themiscian History in General Studies.
“Is the one you gave me a historical scroll?” she asked.
Wanje shook her head. “No. I drew that two days before your arrival. I had a dream and sketched the only part I could remember.”
“You drew that before—”
“—Before I ever saw your mother in the flesh.”
Amaria couldn’t believe it. She wished she had the scroll now so she could look at in the sunlight. From what she could remember, the exactness was precise. “But Wanje, how can that be? It looks just like her.”
Wanje smiled. “Vanity is a sin, Amaria, but I’m pleased you think so. I was quite impressed myself, when she stepped off the boat.”
“So, you saw us in your dream?”
“I was dreaming about your family long before your arrival.”
Amaria scratched her head. “But, these dreams weren’t prophecies?”
Wanje shook her head.
“How can you tell the difference?”
“That takes more moons than we have heartbeats for, and this is not Sage Training.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I gave you the scroll because I know you like drawings, and I wanted it to be a reminder about the importance of family, especially as you enter this phase of your training.”
Amaria nodded. Her mother frequently reminded her of the same thing, usually as a verbal scolding after Amaria had complained about something Sakina had said or done.
The terrain transitioned, and the soft grass beneath her feet turned to rocks and twigs. The debris jabbed at her bare skin. She winced several times, but managed to keep up with Wanje.
“You’re like the citizens in that regard. Most warriors don’t understand the privilege. Sure, we are all sisters by divine blood, but few have a true family like you do. I said the same to Sakina when she started her Quest Training. Your family is special. You must take care of each other.”
Amaria thought about how Sakina had taken care of Amaria since she had finished Quest Training. She must not have been listening to Wanje during that lesson.
Wanje entered the clearing, stopped, and faced Amaria. “There are three scrolls marked with a peacock’s feather at each of the main checkpoints across the north. Use the forbidden paths only and retrieve each scroll. Do so by last light.”
More scrolls. Amaria bowed. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Locating them is not the challenge. The difficulty is completing the task by last light. Do you have any questions?”
The assignment seemed simple enough. Amaria thought for a few heartbeats before shaking her head. “I think I got it.”
Wanje folded her arms and smiled.
Amaria bowed again, took a deep breath, and raced to the repelling ropes. As she zipped down the backside of Mesha Cliff, she smiled. It’s going to be a good day.
In times of peace, by queen’s law, forbidden paths were not to be used except for specialized training sessions. During war, they were routes for message, weapon, and supply delivery but were also used against the enemy as death traps. Four forbidden paths encircled Themiscia, another went down the middle from the Great Ravine to the southern tip, and two stretched across the Beltline.
The ones in the north ran partly through the trees and partly through the Burrow, a gully that extended alongside the southern border of the Great Ravine. The section that went through the trees had large gaps where Amaria would have to use vines to get across. Where the path joined the ground, factors like bears, mountain cats, and the large birds of the north became threats. She had only seen a large bird a few times. Once was during a Gourds match in the arena. It had taken flight in the distance, and even from that far away, the wingspan was impressive. The game had to be postponed and spectators moved under shelter until the bird could no longer be seen.
Though the forbidden paths along the northern boundary had several entry points, for this lesson, after she repelled the backside of Mesha Cliff, Amaria would trek up the coastline and enter at the northwest checkpoint. It was located inside the first tree in the Burrow, or last if you were traveling east to west. The gully continued beyond the northwest checkpoint to the edge of the island. If an enemy were to scale the northwestern wall, they would be herded into the Burrow, only to discover that the path was blocked in by a tree. That’s when the water barrels would be dumped, filling the gully to the brim and washing the enemy off the ledge and out to sea.
There were two ways to gain access to the northwest checkpoint. The first was for those traveling from the east. That entry was a hole in the trunk close to the top of the tree. The other was through a tunnel made of hollowed logs and other wood that started in the clearing just south of the Burrow. Amaria pulled the end of her bow in close as she shimmied under the exposed root and slid into the tunnel.
It was dark. She put her hand against the log and walked, feeling for the torches that lined the way. Her fingers would pass over eight before she’d see the sun. She stubbed her toes several times as she hustled along.
“Great Mother,” she cursed. Why Wanje wanted her footwear was baffling.
She came to the half-way marker, where the top of the log arced out of the ground and holes had been drilled through the wood. Light flickered in front of her. After the log dipped underground, she passed eight more torches before reaching the checkpoint. Now inside the trunk of the first vertical tree on the northwest edge of the Burrow, she hurried up the steps and flung open the latch door. A wick burned in a water pail on the table. The scroll, rolled and sealed with a peacock’s feather, was beside it. Amaria climbed over the roots blocking the path and grabbed it. She crammed two meat sticks into her mouth and stuffed the scroll inside the satchel before starting the climb to the eastern entry.
The trees in the north were large, on their side as tall as the arena’s walls. Climbing to the top of one upright was rigorous and not one of Amaria’s favorite things to do, which was why she never entered the distance climbing events in the Games like her sister did. As Amaria scaled the checkpoint wall, she wondered how far Sakina and the mission had gotten. It had only been one day since they sailed, yet to Amaria, it felt like cycles.
When she reached the ledge just below the eastern entry, she pulled her bow in close and eased out of the hole and onto the limb. From the top o
f the tree, she had a better view of the sky through the gaps in the leaves. By her guess, morning dine was wrapping up. She had to get moving if she was going to make it to the middle checkpoint by midday.
She navigated the tops of the first few trees before dropping into the Burrow. She jogged along for a few heartbeats. The gully widened, and she came to the first of four fallen trees where the paths had been dug out deep enough for someone to run underneath. If it were war, attached to the tree, on each side, would be troughs filled with tar. Once the enemy was covered with the muck and dusted in dried brush, it took just one fire arrow to burn them up.
Amaria neared the first tree. She stretched into a sprint. As she came to the opening, she shortened her stride, trying to plan ahead for the dip in the path. She wasn’t entirely successful. She stumbled going down the incline. She didn’t fall completely, but she had to use her hand to stabilize, a move more damaging to her pride than to her speed. She popped up and shook off the misstep. She would try another approach on the next tree.
She ran as fast, if not faster, than a horse. Her speed was incredible, but there was a problem. The hole was narrower on the second tree than the first, and although the incline was not as dramatic, if Amaria didn’t slow down soon, she risked running smack into the base, something she had done more than once before.
The path sloped, and for a heartbeat, she thought about grinding to a stop but changed her mind. She removed the bow from her back, flung her legs out, slid through the opening, and popped up on the other. Oh, Great Mother, that was pretty. She strapped the bow in place and pushed herself to go faster.
The gap beneath the third tree was small, so she had no choice but to go slow as she approached it. She ducked under to fit through, before resuming speed on the other side.
If she were going under the fourth tree, that opening was just a slit. She would have to lay on her stomach and crawl through it, but that would take her off the forbidden path and into a patch of clearing just north of Fertile Grounds. Ahead of her, five smaller trees braided together and grew up the side of the fallen one. She jogged up the base where they intertwined, leapt, and grabbed the first branch. She swung her legs and clutched the next one. With a few more maneuvers, she was on the path and hustling along like a tree rat.
