Becoming a Warrior

by Moose Tyler

  Regardless of how many there were, none of the snakes were friendly. Among the pile were the black-hooded ones. Those could lash out a decent distance, but their venom was less toxic. If they were the only threat, Amaria could get the satchel easily enough, suffering a few bites along the way but nothing she couldn’t heal from. She looked at the pile closer and saw red and green slithering in and out of the black.

  Green snakes were dazzling in color and lived primarily in the trees, blending almost completely with the leaves. The red ones lived in the north and weren’t usually found this far south unless purposefully placed there, which was clearly the case.

  The green and red venom had different effects than a hooded snake’s. Their poisons worked slower but were highly toxic, even to warriors. The threat was so real that those who patrolled the tree line wore vials around their necks of the healer’s potion that killed the venom. Sakina usually carried two. As the red and green snakes coiled around the satchel, Amaria would’ve given her sword for one vial.

  Without the potion, the location of the bite was critical. On the hands one could easily suck out the poison before it progressed too far, but if the bites were unreachable by mouth, someone else had to suck it out or death was imminent. Amaria spat on the ground and said a short prayer asking for the Great Mother’s protection. A hooded snake lunged, and she lopped its head off with a flick of her sword.

  “What in Great Mother’s name?”

  Another one struck. Amaria circled her sword and lopped off its head. The snakes had either fully recovered from the fall and were angry, or they had been doused in dust.

  Dust made all animals more aggressive but crippled a warrior’s senses. As part of her training, she had to fight a dusted thorn lizard after having been dusted herself. The experience was one of the top three reasons why her quest through the Valley of Sand had been the worst experience of her life.

  Another snake attacked, and she moved to the right. She looked up. More serpents slithered on the platform above her. Her attention shifted to the battle at her feet. Several snapped at once. She moved again, and with a series of blade swings, the snakes fell to the ground, decapitated.

  “Oh, you’ve definitely been dusted.”

  She darted towards a tree with a solid-looking lower branch, slicing a few heads as she went. When she neared the base, she leapt, just as a hooded snake struck and sank its fangs into her foot.

  She landed on the branch and severed its head. She yanked it off, chucked it in the brush below, sat down, and investigated the wound. There were two small holes on the top of her foot, but on the bottom, there were only dents in her skin. She laughed. Her feet had become so hard that the bottoms were impenetrable to snakes’ fangs.

  The bite was just a scratch. She had suffered much worse. She readjusted her position and looked around to make sure there were no serpents in the tree before settling down to work out a solution. She had to be quick. Last light was heartbeats away, and trying to see without light would only add to the difficulty of her test. She didn’t know the exact moment she had worked it out, somewhere between the uneasiness she felt with Brithia and the dusted snakes oddly placed at the checkpoint, but Amaria knew she wasn’t on a real assignment to help the tribe prepare for war.

  She heard Janus’s voice inside her head, “Follow early preparation stage one to plan your route.” She felt both stupid and angry. From the depths of her gut came a scream so loud that citizens all the way to the healers’ camp could hear. She was on her quest to take the shield, and she had made a serious mistake – one that could not just affect her placement in the queen’s army but that could cost Amaria her life.

  Amaria hovered above the snake pit on the tree branch and considered her options. The sun had retired, and the moon was in the sky. She needed more light, which meant she had to build fire. She collected a few branches and peeled away a suitable rubbing stick before fabricating two makeshift torches. She put leaves on a bend in the branch and stuck the end of the rubbing stick in the middle and rolled it with her palms, moving her hands up and down. The leaves caught flame, and she built up the blaze. Light bounced off the trees. Beneath her, the snake pile was as clear as it would have been had it been midday.

  She chucked one of the torches towards the ground like a spear. The end sank into the earth. She threw the other closer to the snake pit. A few hissed and snapped, but most slithered away from the fire. She walked out on the branch and straddled it, just above the satchel. Her plan was to swing down, snag the handles with her sword, and fling it towards the trees. There was a chance she could get bit, but she was willing to take that risk because the threat would be isolated to her hand.

  She dangled and waited. The dust was wearing off, and the snakes weren’t nearly as active. Look at that. Patience does pay off.

  She lowered herself closer. A snake struck, but she batted it away with the back of her fist. She extended her arm and another lunged, sinking its fangs into the leather sheath on her back. It squirmed violently to free itself. She hooked the satchel below. A red one snapped and bit her palm. She clenched and heaved the bag away from the pile just as a hooded one got her bicep. A green one shot up, but Amaria swung her sword in defense and sliced off its head.

  She pulled herself up and lopped the snake off her back. The torches died out. Once again, she was at a disadvantage. She needed to suck out the poison but without light she couldn’t see the puncture wound. A red snake’s fangs were sharp not big. The bite didn’t hurt when first-delivered. The pain would come later.

  She hurried to build back up the fire. Her fingers fumbled with the stick. “Relax. Slow it down.” The faster her heart beat, the quicker the effects of the venom. The trick was to stay calm. She hummed Ode to the Great Mother, the most calming hymn she knew, and tended the blaze into a suitable glow.

  She could see two sets of bite marks about an arrowhead’s length apart. The red one must have gotten her twice. Large blades were hard to control when dealing with delicate matters, but it was all she had, so she dragged the sword across her hand.

  “Great Mother!”

  She put her palm in her mouth and sucked and spat until she tasted the venom on her tongue. After she had siphoned enough out, she cobbled together another torch. It was a tedious task, but she had to take the heartbeats. Snakes were still in the satchel.

  “Patience pays off. Patience pays off,” she recited as she put together a suitable torch.

  She lit the nest ablaze and located the satchel to the left, a solid distance from what was left of the snake pile. She threw the torch into the ground and climbed down. She gripped the sword tight, but the blood from her palm made the handle too slick, so she shifted the weapon to her other hand and approached. Just as she leaned forward to hook the straps with her blade, she heard something scurry out of the trees. She turned and crouched low. Timber leapt and pounced on the bag. Amaria shuffled away as a puff of red dust burst into the air and engulfed the cat. Timber grabbed the strap in her mouth and shook violently.

  Amaria couldn’t believe it. She hadn’t seen Timber in two days. She wondered if she had connected with her when she had fallen from the platform. She tried to connect with her now, but she whirled around in circles erratically, so Amaria gave up. Timber’s mind was in an altered state.

  Animals got amped up on dust, but if Amaria had opened the satchel, she would have been crippled by what her mind was telling her was there. Thanks to Timber’s assistance, not only had she not been dusted, she could see what was lurking inside. Three hooded snakes, two greens, and a pair of Amaria’s sandals.

  She looked up and saw a hooded snake attacked Timber. “No!” she screamed.

  Timber tried to shuffle away, but the snake sank its fangs into her leg. She fell back, and the other two hoods went in for the kill. She managed to bat one off, but the other struck her hind. She turned, stepped on the serpent, and rippe
d off its head. Whipping around, she repeated the execution with the other but scampered back in defense of the third. On her flank, two green ones advanced, but Amaria rushed forward and killed them with a flick of her blade. She circled around and severed the last hooded snake’s head heartbeats before it reached Timber. It fell lifeless on the ground, and the cat darted off into the trees, favoring her hind leg.

  Amaria wasn’t sure what effects a hooded snake’s venom had on a mountain cat, but Timber had suffered several bites. Sadness filled her heart, and she prayed to the Great Mother.

  “If she must return to Thy womb, please take her quickly. All in Her name,” she whispered.

  There was nothing left to do but carry on with the quest, so Amaria picked up her sandals and slipped them on her feet. The leather felt like wood against her skin, a rigid and awkward wedge between her foot and the forest floor. She never thought she would say it, but she preferred bare feet.

  She walked to the satchel to see about consolidating her load. She bent down, picked up the bag, and opened the flap. A red snake shot out and sunk its fangs into her neck. Amaria fell back, clutching the serpent. She yanked it off and ripped off its head. She stood up, tossed it into the trees, strapped the empty satchel across her shoulder, and hurried to the path that led to the east dock. She didn’t have many heartbeats to spare. She had to reach the second checkpoint before the venom dismantled her senses. Warriors posted there could suck out the poison. One might even have a vial of potion.

  “Breathe,” she said as she rushed along. The sandals slowed her down. “You’ll make it.”

  She navigated the hidden path and slipped onto the coastline, a stone’s throw from the east dock. When her feet hit the sand, she stretched into a sprint and dove into the water. Though a quickened heartbeat sped up the venom, she needed a good start to get past the choppy waves that pelted the eastern shoreline. The first effects of the red snake venom, distorted hearing, would soon take hold.

  The waves crashed against the rocks around her, and although she settled into a rhythmic swim, a buzzing sound grew louder in her ear making it difficult to keep her sense of direction. She knew it wasn’t long before the poison seeped into her lungs.

  She picked up the pace, though the air had started tightening in her chest. She passed where the first buoy would be, had it not been removed as part of the preparations for war. Two more to go. She sucked in as deep a breath as she could and surged towards her destination.

  By the second buoy, the pain in her neck was crippling, and the number of heartbeats she could go without taking a breath had dwindled to twenty. The buzz in her ears had drowned out all other sound, even the water lapping against her body. The only thing she could hear was a shrill, piercing whistle. The eyes were next. Once those were gone, death was heartbeats away.

  “You can make it,” she said, though her reassurances now weren’t as convincing as they had been earlier in the swim. There was still one more marker to pass and another stretch after that.

  She took a breath and dove underwater, or at least she thought she did. She no longer felt the connection to the sea. The Great Mother was taking her back to Her womb, and she curled into a ball and floated in the warmth. She looked up and a white light pierced the black sky.

  She felt scared. “Great Mother?”

  The light grew brighter, and the shrill whistle blew again. She couldn’t move. She thought she heard the Great Mother call her name. I’m here, Great Mother. “Here I am,” she whispered. The radiance washed over her face and glowed brighter for a few heartbeats. Amaria smiled at the warmth, and then, the light was snuffed.

  Amaria woke up in a boat with Felicia and Cat leaning over her. Her vision was blurred, and the ringing in her ears lingered, but the effects of the venom were subsiding.

  Felicia jostled her slightly. “Amaria? Amaria?”

  Amaria closed her eyes and groaned.

  Cat exhaled deeply. “Thank the Great Mother.”

  Amaria opened her eyes, and Felicia and Cat were in better focus. Felicia leaned down to help her up.

  Amaria scooted back. Her head pounded. A lantern dangled from a stick above her, casting a bright light across the water. “What happened?”

  “You were floating in the sea,” said Cat.

  “I’m on my quest and got bit by a red snake.”

  Felicia sat down. “The poisoning was obvious. I gave you two vials.”

  “How did you pull me into the boat?”

  Cat giggled. “We didn’t. You climbed in. Almost tipped us over.”

  “I did?”

  Felicia nodded. “You were shouting ‘Great Mother! Great Mother!’ quite loud.”

  Amaria had always wondered how she would react when she saw the Great Mother. Now she knew she would squawk Her name until She put her out of her misery, like a bird in the yard heartbeats before its head gets chopped off.

  “From your color and marks on your arm and neck, there was no other diagnosis,” said Felicia, “and I always have extra vials. It cures sea snake venom and a few other creatures, too.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  Cat verified. “It does.”

  Amaria sat up straighter. “Thank you both.”

  Cat smiled and Felicia nodded. “This broke in your thrashing,” Felicia said, handing her the scroll.

  One of the leather straps had snapped. Amaria cursed.

  Cat reached into a box. “I have some leather. Give me a few heartbeats.”

  She gave Cat the scroll. “Thank you.” She looked at Felicia. “What are you doing out here, anyway?”

  “We just dropped supplies with Aiella.”

  “What kind?”

  “Water pouches, sliver, vials of potion, some herbs and bait for fishing, a couple other bundles we didn’t investigate the contents of,” said Cat. “Felicia guessed fire discs.”

  “Or eggs,” said Felicia. “Either is likely.”

  Amaria’s stomach whined. She untied the water pouch and drank her fill. “What’s happening on the island? There was no one in the south.”

  “Most are already at the camps in the north, with just a few of us messengers still mobile,” said Felicia. “We’ve taken the same load to four check points so far.”

  Cat fiddled with the leather strap. “Vi and Bondice are delivering, too.”

  Amaria scratched her head. “Did they say who the supplies are for?”

  Felicia shook her head. “But, everyone has given us one of these.” She showed Amaria a handful of parchment pieces rolled and tied with leather.

  Cat gave her the scroll. “That should hold. What is that anyway?”

  Amaria realized she hadn’t read the message that had sent her on the wild bird chase that had, so far, nearly gotten her covered in borrowing worms and killed by a red snake. How could she have not read it? She had already made that mistake, moons ago. She cursed herself for not learning the lesson. She pulled the scroll from the casing. It wasn’t even sealed with wax. She unrolled it and read before looking at Felicia and Cat.

  “What does it say?” asked Cat, anxiously.

  Amaria read aloud. “This warrior is on her quest. Please offer whatever aid you can and pray for her safe journey. May the Great Mother be with you.” She felt numb. It was foolish not to have read the scroll before she had started. She looked at the ones in the basket next to Felicia. “What are those?”

  Felicia shrugged. “I don’t know. We’re supposed to deliver them to Micah before she takes post at the—”

  “—North tar pits?”

  Cat smiled. “Yes. Want to read them?”

  “Cat,” snapped Felicia, “we can’t read them. That’s warrior business.”

  “I know we can’t read them, but she can.” Cat indicated Amaria. “She’s a warrior, isn’t she?”

  “Not yet,” Amari
a said quietly.

  Felicia looked at her for a few heartbeats. “Close enough.”

  Cat handed her one of the parchments. “This one is from Aiella.”

  Amaria untied the leather and gave it to Cat before reading. “Mountain Cat to lose horse, twenty.” She looked up, confused.

  Cat took the parchment back and gave her another. “Read this one.” She restored the first to its original rolled state and listened as Amaria read

  The parchments, it seemed, were bets as to which warriors in training would win a horse and which would lose. Amaria determined that she was Mountain Cat, and the gamblers were waging big that she would lose.

  She read the last parchment, “Ten on Red fish to ride first horse. Mountain Cat to lose, fifteen.” She gave it back to Cat.

  Amaria was rarely bet against in competition. Now, it seemed the odds were against her, if she was Mountain Cat. The feeling was humbling, almost crushing, yet inspiring. If a horse was up for grabs, Great Mother, Amaria was going to give her all to try to win it. If some high-ranked warriors lost arrowheads because of it, so be it.

  She tied the water pouch around her waist. “Better get to it, and you’ve got supplies to deliver.”

  Felicia looked concerned. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Amaria had almost completely recovered from the venom. The potion worked fast, once swallowed. There was a slight ringing in her ears but nothing intolerable. She slipped into the water. “I’m fine. Thanks to your help.”

  Cat picked up a paddle. “Glad we were a boat passing in the night. If you need anything, just call out. We’ll be there.”

  Felicia nudged Cat. “Let’s go. I have no interest in getting called out for a lashing tonight.” She turned to Amaria. “Be careful.”