Becoming a Warrior

by Moose Tyler

  She pulled the water pouch from her waist as Kazi disappeared into the trees. Her bow was on the ground next to the fire, useless to her now. She stormed back carrying a dead bird in one hand and something Amaria couldn’t see in the other. She chucked the unidentified object at Amaria hard. She flinched but caught it. It was one thing to be disgruntled about not being able to leave your mark on a suckling’s face, but another to throw a tantrum if it didn’t work out that way.

  Amaria looked at the object. It was a glass jar. “What is this?”

  Kazi shrugged and flung the bird in the fire. “If you’re hungry.” She picked up her bow and sat down, her eyes focused on the flames.

  As much as she wanted to dive into the blaze, fish out the bird, and roast it properly, Amaria wouldn’t give Kazi the satisfaction. She was not weak. She could find her own food in the sea. “Do you have a message to deliver?” asked Amaria gruffly.

  “Not by you.”

  Amaria watched the bird char. It was a waste and a sin. “May the Great Mother be with you, Kazi,” she said hotly. She knew she should also bow, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it, not to Kazi. She turned and headed to the trees.

  “I pray you lose,” Kazi shouted.

  Amaria whirled around. Kazi stood, the bow in hand. Amaria was in perfect range to be fired at. She slid her foot back and readied for a surprise attack, one that could leave a mark worth true bragging rights. An arrow through the shoulder or even leg would hurt something fierce.

  Amaria wanted to say something snide but held her tongue. Her greatest advantage was that the warriors testing her were experiencing, what seemed like, a communication breakdown. In war, something like that could cost lives. In this quest, it could be the advantage she needed to complete the test by first light. Antagonizing Kazi was not the right strategy.

  Amaria relaxed her stance, still keeping her feet positioned for balance. “I probably will lose,” she shouted, her tone softening. “I’ve lost the scroll. Heartbeats are slipping away, and you’re right, I’m not good on the sliver. Terrible, and I have to ride it back, wind in my face.” Amaria wondered if she could conjure a tear but decided not to try. That would be an even bigger bragging right than an arrow through the leg.

  Kazi laughed, and Amaria had no doubt that she had prayed to the Great Mother for her to fail. It made her sad and angry, but she couldn’t let the emotions root. First light was getting closer, and she was gambling with a risky strategy. The art of misinformation was a tricky craft to master.

  Amaria threw her hands up. “And, I still have to get a satchel someone left at south beach.”

  Kazi smiled. “Well, you better get a move on.”

  Amaria bowed, though it made her want to vomit. “Aye. The sun waits for no warrior.”

  Kazi didn’t say anything, so Amaria turned and hustled to the sliver. Before setting off, she put the jar in her satchel. She rode south, but once she was far enough out and certain that she wasn’t being tracked, she veered east. Aiella had been right. Kazi wasn’t easy. She had given a jar of something Amaria hadn’t had the heartbeats to investigate, but that was it. She didn’t know what was lurking at the northern tar pits, but with the Great Mother’s blessing, Kazi would use her bird to tell those waiting that Amaria would be coming by land.

  Amaria rode along the eastern coast grabbing weeds from the sea when she could and stuffing them in her mouth. They tasted terrible, unless flavored and cooked properly, but she didn’t have another option. She needed energy, and it was the quickest and easiest source she could find. Feasting on seaweeds would be enough to get her to the tip of the north shore, but she doubted that they would be sufficient to help her once she was there. She estimated she was halfway up the coast before finally ceding to her hunger and taking a break to fish for something meatier.

  If she had been in the south, she knew several places to catch a meal, but she was in the cold waters of the east and was less familiar with the territory. She paddled along, jabbing her sword in waves as they rolled beneath her in hopes of getting lucky, but after a few fruitless attempts, she retired the blade to its sheath, hopped on another wave, and thought out a new plan. With the help of a few more weeds and fresh water, she decided she had enough stamina to make it to the coast where hunting would be easier.

  The wind shifted direction and was at her back, pushing her along at a rapid pace. The sliver was a valuable asset, now that she had learned how to ride it. She planned to leave it at the northern dock before carrying on to the tar pits. She would get it later and give it to either Aiella or Felicia and Cat. It was the least she could do to repay them for helping her complete her quest. She didn’t want to get her hopes up. She still had to climb Jagged Ridge and find the path to the Reserve, but if she kept this pace, she would make it to the tar pits before first light.

  She passed where she thought the second buoy would be, if it hadn’t been removed. Only one more to go. She bounced onto another wave and settled into its rhythm, scanning for food. It crested, and she tucked her stance and slid through the curl. She ran her fingers along the water wall, and her hand flicked what she thought was a fish. She reached in as the tube closed in around her. When she felt the flick again, she snatched her hand shut and shot out of the curl just as it folded under. The sensation sent a rush through her body, and she leaned forward slightly. Before she could close her mouth, she was flung from the wood and smacked hard into the sea.

  She broke the surface coughing and wheezing. After she recovered, she lifted the fish she’d caught and investigated it. She had clamped down during the fall, but minus being crushed in the middle, it looked perfectly good to Amaria, and she sank her teeth into the flesh. She ripped off a chunk and ate quickly, careful to extract the bones with her tongue before swallowing the much-needed meat. Her energy was resurrected. She was still physically exhausted, not as much as she had been in the Valley of Sand but more so than during her quest through the Great Ravine, but now, with the help of the fish, she would be a respectable opponent for whatever was waiting for her at the tar pit.

  She said a prayer thanking the Great Mother for the meal and took a drink from the pouch. Nearly empty, she’d have to conserve. She stashed it away and lay down on the sliver. Just as she started to paddle, something to the right caught her eye. She stopped and watched the rolling water. A few heartbeats passed before she saw a lump floating in the distance. She waited for signs of movement, but after closer inspection, she determined that the lump was a warrior. She slowly paddled closer, aware that she might be swimming into a trap.

  As she neared, she saw that her assessment had been accurate. Which warrior, however, was unclear. Whether friend or foe was even harder to determine. She thought of Penelope and her heart raced. From this distance, she couldn’t see the lump’s hair, but she knew that Penelope had to report to Lethivia in the east before starting her quest. She could still be in the eastern waters and now in desperate need of help.

  She paddled quicker. “Ahoy there!”

  The lump didn’t move. It was slumped over what looked like a sliver.

  “Penelope?”

  She paddled until she was within arm’s length. It wasn’t Penelope. This hair was black. Amaria slid off her sliver and aligned it with the other before rolling the warrior over. The lump was Zora. She had two bottom skimmer barbs stuck in her chest and one in her neck. She looked dead. Amaria yanked out the barbs, but she didn’t move.

  Bottom skimmer tails had several barbs on the end, but Amaria had never seen them that big. Most of the ones she had found came from tails no bigger than a fighting stick. Judging by the size of the barbs in Zora’s chest, Amaria guessed that the tail they came from was as thick as the double-bound rope used to string bridges across the Great Ravine for transporting livestock and other heavy loads to the Reserve.

  The venom of skimmer barbs was as lethal as the red and green snakes, but
only if it pierced the warrior’s heart. Judging from Zora’s wounds, at least one may have hit the mark.

  Amaria looked around, but there were no signs of a bottom skimmer, dead or alive, and she wondered how Zora survived the attack. She tossed the barbs aside and assessed the situation further. Zora was wearing sandals. On a sliver, footwear didn’t offer the best grip, especially on the new ones, and she was not skilled on any sliver, so it would logical to conclude that she must have struggled with this part of her quest.

  Also, if her quest had been anything like Amaria’s, she would have been following early prep phase one and should not still be in the water at this point. She would be on land getting dusted while retrieving her sandals.

  She felt the side of Zora’s neck to check for death. It was faint, but she felt her heartbeat on her fingertips. She visually scanned her body for wounds. There were welts and gashes all over her hands and chest that looked like firebug bites. Firebug bites burned and itched so much that the victim could scratch their flesh off, if they didn’t apply a cream to sooth the wound. A few firebug bites were tolerable, but no one suffered a few. They swarmed, and may the Great Mother have mercy on anyone who stumbled into their nest.

  Zora’s arms and legs were well-protected with cloth, and Amaria had no interest in examining the rest of her body. She had seen enough to assess the situation accurately. She had suffered firebug bites retrieving her sandals before returning to sea, just as Amaria had in the south with the snakes. She doubted that Zora had a Timber who had come to her aid, but there was no way to tell if she had been dusted. Any residue was washed from her body, and since she was unconscious, Amaria couldn’t see the effects in her movements or eyes. The heart had one speed after a dusting, full acceleration. It would have sped up the effects of the venom on Zora’s heart, had she been dusted.

  Amaria felt torn. Her biggest competitor and thorn in the paw was floating on a sliver, heartbeats away from death. All she had to do was carry on with her quest, and the irritant would be removed. If You want to take her to Thine womb, who am I to interfere?

  She slid the lump back onto the sliver and readied herself to paddle away, but shame crept into her heart. Had Felicia and Cat not helped her, Amaria could have easily died at sea. She cursed and turned around. The Great Mother worked in strange ways. She had shown great generosity, and now, it was Amaria’s turn to give back.

  She cursed again before removing the vial from her neck. “I don’t know if it will even work.”

  She opened Zora’s mouth and gagged at the site. Her teeth were dark yellow. No wonder she never smiles, Amaria thought as she poured the potion into her mouth. She held her breath and waited to see if the lump snapped to life. She counted the heartbeats. Too many more and she would have to be on her way. She had done all she could. She would tell others about Zora’s fate and feel at peace with the Great Mother.

  Just as Amaria was about to push off, Zora sat up violently and looked at her for a few heartbeats before punching her hard across the face.

  Amaria fell off her sliver and into the water. “Great Mother,” she cursed. “I just saved your life.”

  Zora turned in all directions, sporadically assessing the situation. She looked at Amaria again, more aware of her surroundings than she had been heartbeats ago.

  “I found you floating here,” said Amaria. “There were skimmer barbs in your chest.”

  Zora stared at her for a few more heartbeats before paddling away.

  Amaria hopped on her sliver and headed after her. “She did not just punch me in the face.”

  Zora was faster than Amaria had given her credit for. Amaria was moving so swift in pursuit that, before she knew it, she had passed the last marker for the north dock. She shifted course and paddled ferociously farther out to sea. When the wave called her name, she turned and smiled. It would be huge. She popped up on the sliver and settled into a comfortable stance.

  Zora was to the left riding a smaller wave that would eventually be swallowed by the bigger one Amaria was on. Just as the curls were about to intersect, Zora flew off her sliver, and Amaria went whizzing past. She looked and saw Zora’s head bob out of the water. From what Amaria could tell, she was not in a rush to get back on the sliver. She must have suffered a hard crash.

  “Hope you feel that later,” Amaria shouted.

  She looked at the nose of her sliver and saw a tail swipe underneath, and in a heartbeat, she crashed into the sea. As soon as she could, she pulled herself onto the wood. The tail belonged to a bottom skimmer, and by the power in which she had been flung, it wasn’t a small one.

  She paddled hard and caught the first wave that passed. She felt the flutter in her stomach, the one that told her she was in danger. She was being hunted, and it was imperative that she get to land. She felt the skimmer rise up under the sliver, and for a few heartbeats, she was lifted out of the water. The beast was enormous. It lowered, causing her to lose balance and fall off again. She drank a mouthful of sea, and when she broke the surface, she clamored for the sliver, sputtering and gasping.

  The tail whipped out of the water and stabbed at her, piercing the satchel on her back. It snapped off the barb and retreated. The delay gave Amaria a chance to gain distance. She looked over her shoulder as she sped away, and though she didn’t see the skimmer break the surface, she thought she saw Zora watching in the distance like a spectator at the Games. Amaria cursed. She felt silly for interfering with the Great Mother’s plan, even though she knew it was the right thing to do. She couldn’t focus on that now. Now, she was doing her best to outrun a beast of a bottom skimmer that seemed to be herding her towards the rocks of the north shore.

  The predator was tenacious, but after some abrupt zigzags across the water and a bit of speed, Amaria was confident it had given up the chase. She looked around thoroughly, but there were no signs of it beneath her or on her flank. The outline of the north cliff was in the distance. In front of her, Jagged Ridge jutted into the sky. A few more waves, and she’d be there.

  She dodged the small rocks that circled the outer rim. Closer to the dock, they got larger, and she would have to be careful navigating the water. She slowed her pace as she hopped onto another wave. Just as she was about to lean forward and pick up speed again, she felt something ram the wood beneath her, and she was flung into the water.

  When she broke the surface, Amaria saw the tail thrust towards her. She tried to dodge, but in water, her movement was slow. It skewered her shoulder, and she shouted in pain. She pulled the sword from its sheath. The waves were not her allies. She nearly smashed into a rock, missing it by less than a dagger’s length. The bottom skimmer slammed into her, and its tail skewered her leg.

  “Great Mother!”

  She drove the sword down into the skimmer’s head. Blood rose up around her. She pulled the sword out and scrambled towards the sliver. Her leg and shoulder cramped, but if she could just get to land, she could pull the barbs out and start healing.

  She sheathed the sword and grabbed the leather tied to her ankle. She pulled the wood within reach. She lunged for it just as a large wave crested and crashed down on her, knocking her underwater and into a large rock. The blow sent a ringing to her ears. She surfaced and more waves pelted her, ramming her into the crag again. She hit her head and was knocked unconscious, now defenseless against the sea’s fury.

  Amaria woke up on her back in the sand. Small waves rushed over her legs. Her head throbbed. She touched it and groaned loudly. Judging by the feel of the gash, she had been on land for more than a few heartbeats, but it was hard to tell exactly how many. The sky was still dark, but first light was approaching.

  She sat up, careful to take it slow. She felt dizzy. The leather was still tied around her ankle, but the sliver was gone. A barb was lodged in her calf and another in her shoulder.

  She grabbed the one in her calf and yanked it out. She shouted but
quickly covered her mouth. She was vulnerable in the open on the beach. For all she knew, there was an audience at the top of Jagged Ridge watching the scene like a play.

  She took a few heartbeats before pulling the barb from her shoulder. That one was bigger and as long as a spear. The end was razor-sharp, and if she could pull it out clean, she would add it to her arsenal. If the barb snapped, leaving a piece in her shoulder, even a small one, it would affect the use of her arm.

  “Okay,” she whispered, “force and precision.”

  She took a few short breaths, adjusted her position, counted three heartbeats, and jerked. A scream escaped, but other than that, she had performed the procedure flawlessly. She fell back into the sand and looked at the barb. It was glorious.

  She allowed herself a few heartbeats of rest. The sea felt good when she used it to wash out the wounds. She took off the satchel and found a bonus gift, a small barb wedged in the cloth. She dislodged it for examination. All she had to do was shove a piece of stone, or even metal, into the severed end, secure it with leather, and she would have a fierce-looking knife. Amaria looked up. You are generous indeed. “Protect all those who have given me aid, Great Mother. All in Her name.”

  Amaria inhaled deeply. She still had to climb Jagged Ridge and find the path to the tar pits, but she was no longer stressed about doing it by first light because the Great Mother had blessed her. That was far better than any horse or piece of leather for her arm. Whatever was waiting at the tar pits was irrelevant. If she met the Great Mother on this night, she would go to Her peacefully, quietly, and without fear in her heart.

  She took out the sandals and slipped them on her feet. She removed the jar and looked at it. It was cracked on one side. She popped the lid. Fire jelly was inside. She dug her fingers in and rubbed the gunk on her arms and legs. It would protect her skin from the heat.

  As she lathered up, she investigated her wounds. She had holes in both of her calves, one from a skimmer barb and the other, a snakebite. Her palm and shoulder were in terrible condition, but she didn’t know about the status of her neck and face. She could try looking with the blade, but she didn’t have the energy.