by Moose Tyler
Once she had applied an adequate layer of protection, she closed the jar and put it in the satchel. Though she planned on burning her entire outfit after the quest was over, she would forever keep Aiella’s bag. It was well-made and the perfect size, big enough but not too big. It would become part of her official training gear. She wished she could give her the sliver in return, but she had no idea where it was and doubted it had survived the battering.
She untied the leather rope from her ankle and set it aside before removing the water pouch and draining what was left. She used the dagger barb to slit a hole in the flap of the satchel before shoving the empty pouch inside. She tied the dagger barb to the side of her calf with the sliver rope and slid the spear barb through the hole she had cut in the flap. She hoisted the pack over her blade and picked up the last barb. She slid it through the straps across the small of her back and tightened the load. She hustled to the base of Jagged Ridge, pleased with the adjustments she had made.
The climb up was slow. She was bone-tired, and though the pack on her back was light, her arms were heavy and uncooperative. Her legs were in better shape, but they grew shakier by the heartbeat. The wind kept her skin cool, and she was thankful she wasn’t making the climb midday. Had she been more thoughtful, she would have waited to apply the fire jelly. Though her hands were dry, the parts of her arms and legs that could help her climb were too slimy to grip the rock. She would have to reapply at the top.
When she finally pulled her leg over the ledge, she was as limp as wilted greens. Not just her arms, not just her legs, but her whole body was mush.
“Great Mother,” she panted, “this is ridiculous.”
She didn’t have the heartbeats to curse more about the politics behind the quest-taking process, so she stood up. Her legs shook under the burden of the weight. The sky turned lighter. First light was closing in. She could smell it in the air.
She wished she could sit and marvel at the Reserve stretched before her and watch first light break, but she had to find the burnt tree at the fourth post, the one that led to the backside of the tar pits. She rounded a boulder, and she saw it ahead of her. She quickened her pace. The sky turned another shade lighter.
The opening to the path was narrow, and as she shimmied through, she removed the pack and fished out the jelly jar. The air had gotten hotter, and not just because she felt the rush of a deadline. She lathered an additional layer of protection on her body and face, put the empty jar in the satchel, and scurried along. It seemed like only a few heartbeats before she came to the first pit.
Black goop bubbled out of the ground, but thick wood planks provided a somewhat safe passage across. They hovered a blade’s width over the pits, fastened to the dead branches above with chains. When stepped on, they sank slightly and rested just on the top of tar. Too much weight for too long, and it would snap. To make it through without serious burns, you had to be quick and nimble. She couldn’t imagine having to perform the task while dusted.
She ran through a few of the tar pits before finally coming to the edge of the Reserve. The scorched trees thinned out. If the scrolls were right, there would be a bridge at the end of the path leading over to the pits on the main island. She squinted and scanned the distance, searching for the overpass. She rounded another curve and saw it in front of her. She sprinted faster. Her leg snagged something, and she heard a snap. She had just triggered a wire of some sort. What was triggered, she didn’t know. She slowed down and used more caution.
She jogged to the bridge, investigating her surroundings as she went, and found what it was she had tripped. This part of the island had already been through early prep phase two, and Amaria had just set off the first of several traps. This one in particular was designed to drop enemies into the Great Ravine. The bridge connected to a rock on the edge of a tar pit. The wire in the path set off a chain reaction that would eventually cut and pin one side of the ropes to the tar. It would hold until the enemy got about halfway out. The added weight and heat would be too much, and the cable would snap. If Amaria wasn’t on that bridge when it broke, she would either have to find another way off the Reserve or be forced back to sea.
She ran across as fast as she could. No need to draw a weapon. She would need both hands to hold on when it fell. She heard a pop. She felt the tension underfoot wane. She gave one last dig, leapt, and grabbed hold of the rope, wrapping it around her arm twice for added safety.
The sensation of falling was a rush, but she fought back the war cry that had surged to her lips. She looked up and saw the rocks. The landing would hurt, but she was latched in securely. When she smacked into the wall, she covered her head with her free hand. The second slam wasn’t as bad. By the third, she had unlatched her wrist and was hustling up the cliff.
At the top, she flung herself over the ledge and landed on the path. “Please, grant my arms rest,” she panted. “They can bear no more.”
She needed a weapon but was too weak to grasp a sword properly, so she pulled the barb from the crook of her back and kept going. When she came to another trip wire, she leapt over the trigger and scurried on, scanning for warriors. She was getting close to the checkpoint. The pits were thick in this part of the island. The tar ignited when mixed with fire, and it was used for a lot of the army’s weapons and traps. Cooled it was nearly impossible to wash off, but if you touched it fresh from the ground, whatever part of your body not properly protected would never again grow skin. The jelly could only save her from the heat in the air. It would do nothing if she fell, or was pushed, into one of the pits.
She hopped from plank to plank, trying to move slow so she could listen for signs of her contact, but she could never stop completely. If she stood too long, the wood would sink. She started to curse but heard voices. They were muffled and in the distance, but she was agonizingly close to completing this mission. Small lights flickered in front of her and she followed them. Fire in the pits? Whose boat arrived yesterday?
She came to a more secure patch of ground. The light came from the other side of the ledge. She removed the glass jar as she progressed forward.
“She’s not going to make it,” Amaria heard a voice say.
She peered over the ledge to see three warriors gathered below. One was Micah. The other two Amaria couldn’t see, but she suspected one to be Shana.
“Kazi’s bird said she headed to south beach,” said Micah. “Whether or not you’ve won your arrowheads must wait until first light, Shana.”
Shana clapped her hands together. “Won’t be long now. Oh, don’t be sore, Phoenix. You didn’t lose too bad. What did you bet, three? Three for the wrong suckling.” Shana snickered.
“Don’t act like you waged a fortune,” Phoenix shot back. “Five arrowheads are hardly a gamble.”
Amaria smiled. Good one.
“Yes, I believe Aiella is the big winner,” said Shana. “Twenty arrowheads, now that’s something to brag about.”
“Aiella lost more than just arrowheads,” Phoenix said, sternly. “She used her bird to change her wager on Mountain Cat instead of informing Kazi.”
“What?” Shana was clearly unhappy with the news. “That little Hera,” she cursed.
Amaria gripped the jar tighter but kept her composure.
Shana swung a blade in circles and took a few practice thrusts. “I can’t wait to have a go at her.”
“Have you seen her fight? I’ll be lucky if I last ten heartbeats,” said Phoenix. “You, five.”
“Quiet!” Micah snapped. “Something’s not right.” She inhaled deeply.
Amaria wondered if her stench had wafted down. She held her breath for a few heartbeats and waited out the silence.
“No way. Not after she’s been dusted.” Shana whispered.
“Shhh,” Micah hissed.
Shana waited a few heartbeats before whispering again. “She probably won’t make it. Curled up
at south beach sucking her thumb.” She snickered.
Amaria stood, flung her leg over the ledge, and leapt. As she fell, she threw the barb at Shana. It pierced her shoulder and drove through to the other side, pinning her against the wood beam behind her and forcing her to drop her weapon.
Amaria twisted and hurled the glass jar at Phoenix. It smashed across her face. Amaria extended her foot and plowed into her. She got her in a head hold and put her to sleep. Her sword drawn, she flung the limp warrior to the side.
The attack had been so swift, so unexpected, that Micah hadn’t had the heartbeats to pull her weapon from its sheath. Shana struggled to free herself. Amaria yanked the spear barb out of her satchel and hurled it at her. It pierced the other shoulder, both of her arms were now pinned to wood.
“Great Mother,” Shana screamed, now incapable of escape.
Amaria shifted her attention to Micah. “I have a message from Janus.”
Micah drew her sword and lunged. Amaria moved left and batted down the advance. She kicked Micah in the side of the knee. She fell and looked vulnerable for the takedown, but just as Amaria went in for the strike, Micah rolled to the right and swung her blade, forcing her to switch directions to defend. Micah landed a throat jab and kicked Amaria in the gut. She reared to kick again and rammed her foot into Amaria’s chest, sending her sailing backwards.
Amaria wheezed and coughed as she stood up. Micah leapt, but Amaria shuffled onto one of the tar pits that now surrounded them. Micah stopped at the edge and guarded the secure ground while Amaria hopped from plank to plank. After a brief chase, Micah closed in. The wood beneath Amaria started to sink. She looked up.
Micah smiled. “Cede,” she ordered.
Amaria assessed her options. She grabbed the dagger barb from her calf and hurled it at Micah. She raised her arm to deflect and stumbled backwards. Amaria leapt from the plank, swinging her blade and knocking the sword from Micah’s hand. She pounced again, and in a heartbeat, she had Micah by the throat and flat on her back. Amaria’s foot pinned Micah’s arm, and her face was dangerously close to the tar.
Amaria moved her sword to a more lethal position. “Not this day. How about you?”
Micah looked at Amaria for a few heartbeats before nodding. “Aye.”
Amaria released her hold.
Micah pulled herself off the ground and massaged her neck as she led the way to where she and the others had been waiting. “You didn’t win a horse,” she said, “but you have earned the right to take the shield.” She gave Amaria a dented metal disc.
Amaria almost laughed. She had suffered so much, nearly lost her life, all for a used, metal disc like the ones she had practiced with in a thousand training sessions. The shield from the Sacred Peacock was nicer, and all she had to do for that was keep her room clean and be respectful to her mother and teachers.
“You still have a few heartbeats to complete the walk of faith, if you go now.” Micah indicated the path and tossed Amaria the dagger barb.
She caught it.
“I’m sorry I chucked your scroll in the Stalks.” Micah raised her arm and opened her hand, revealing a hole where the barb had pierced it. “You’ve earned my respect, Sister.” She lowered her hand to cover her heart and wiggled her fingers.
Amaria sheathed her sword and ran to the path that would take her across the finish line. She leapt onto the shield and rode it down a steep, muddy slide to the bottom of the Great Ravine. She gripped the handles tight and extended her legs so she could have better control. The ride was bumpy, and as she looked up, she could see first light breaking. She closed her eyes and said a prayer. She opened them, and darkness had consumed her. She craned her neck to see what was in front. A light grew brighter. In a heartbeat, she shot out into brightness and skidded across sand. When the disc finally stopped, she opened her eyes. She blinked several times to quicken the adjustment. Her ears were ringing, and she had no idea where she was. She looked around, gaining focus. She saw her mother clapping. Next to her was Telsa.
She tried to get off the disc, but her foot caught, and it slid out from beneath her, taking her back down. From the ground, she saw hide slippers rushing towards her. She looked up to see Wanje. The sage leaned down and brushed Amaria’s braids off her face and investigated the damage.
She looked concerned, so Amaria smiled. “Did I pass?”
Wanje smiled. It wasn’t beaming with pride, but it was warm. She helped Amaria up and brushed the braids out of her eyes again. “You passed,” she said.
Amaria grinned as Wanje pulled her close and hugged tightly. After a few heartbeats, Amaria ended the embrace and looked at her teacher. Wanje nodded, signaling that the quest was finally over.
The heartbeat she was released, Amaria ran to her mother and Telsa standing off to the side. She had never been in this chamber before. When she had witnessed Sakina’s ranking, the ceremony had been conducted at Queen’s Cliff. For hers, all Amaria knew was that she was somewhere in the Great Ravine and that she was officially a warrior.
Her mother squeezed tight. “Thank the Great Mother.”
She kissed Amaria’s forehead thrice before hugging her again. Her mother’s grasp on her arm was firm, and she gripped her head just as tight, forcing her closer. The hug was awkward, and Amaria felt smothered, but she heard her mother murmuring. The words were so soft that she tightened her embrace and held her breath to listen.
“Sakina’s alive,” Mother whispered, “but she and Helen have been captured.”
Amaria felt her heart pound hard inside her chest. She started to speak, but her mother clutched tighter. “Sandra’s been killed. We’ll discuss later. Keep your heart covered.”
Her mother only told her to cover her heart when she thought Amaria was in danger. She nodded that she understood and was released to Telsa.
Telsa smiled. “Well done, Sister.”
Amaria hugged her. Her body felt thinner, bonier than she remembered from their visit in Sacred Meadow. She loosened her grip to keep from crushing her. “Thank you, Sister.”
Telsa patted Amaria’s back and pulled away. “Looks like Timber had a rough night, too.”
“You saw her? Is she okay?”
She shrugged. “She will be. She’s in the barn healing. That’s one tough cat. She was worried about you.”
“She was?”
Telsa nodded. “We all were.”
“I’m fine. Just glad it’s over.”
Telsa’s eyes looked different. They seemed smaller, duller. Amaria tried to smile. She was relieved to hear that Timber was alive, but she couldn’t camouflage her worry for her sisters. Sakina had been captured, and although Amaria had just seen Telsa healthy right before Genesis, now she looked like walking bones. “You look well, Sister,” was all she could say.
Telsa’s laugh was genuine. “About as well as you smell.” She crinkled her nose.
Amaria smiled and grabbed her to pull her in for another hug. Her intention was to rub her stench all over, but just as she went in for the squeeze, the queen entered the chamber. Amaria and Telsa turned and bowed.
She glided past them. “Are we all finally here? Let’s crack the whip.” She exited through a tunnel off to the left.
“I’m proud of you, Amaria,” said Telsa before following the queen’s lead.
The tunnel led to a different chamber, and when Amaria entered, she saw the other warriors in training gathered around the room. Penelope was to the left. Her hair was mostly black. Her face had welts and gashes, but when she saw Amaria, she smiled and ran over.
“I thought something had happened to you,” she said.
Amaria hugged her. “You have no idea.”
Penelope laughed. “Oh, I think I do.”
By the looks of her, Penelope would have a good story to tell at the fires. Amaria saw Ophea and Jax on the other side of the chamber
. They looked just as bad, but she would have to wait to congratulate them because the queen had started the ceremony.
She stood at the center of the stage with a wooden stand beside her. “New warriors, step forward and receive your rank.”
The sages were at a table to the side. Telsa sat with family members and other witnesses on the edge of the stage. High-ranking officers stood behind the queen, including Janus and Phoenix, but Amaria didn’t see Olivia. Others were to the side of the stage, among them were the ones who had tested her.
Amaria saw Zora falling in line with the others. She made eye contact and held it for two heartbeats before turning her attention to the queen.
“Oh, I see,” Amaria said under her breath.
“What?” Penelope whispered.
“Nothing.”
Amaria and Penelope shuffled forward, took their place in line, and faced the stage. Amaria was at the end. In competition, she preferred to go last, but with how she had performed during the quest, she would have chosen closer to the front.
The queen harrumphed before speaking. “First warrior,” she said.
Ophea stepped forward. Amaria wanted to whistle, but a warrior receiving her first piece of leather and being assigned her inaugural post was, to Amaria, a big deal. She didn’t know if hooting and war cries were acceptable behavior at such a serious event, so she kept quiet and listened.
Euphora came out from behind the table and approached.
The queen turned. “Do you recommend that this warrior join the ranks of my army?”
Euphora bowed. “Aye, your grace.”
The queen faced the warriors on her other side. “Those who gave aid, rise.”
Among those who stood were Creelle and Nithia, two fierce fighters who made the finals in their heats nearly every Genesis. Amaria thought Creelle was the slightly better competitor, but one shouldn’t cast Nithia to sea. She was feisty and unpredictable.
