Amazon: Signs of the Secret

by Ms. Becky J. Rhush

  “Warn them?”

  Palius spotted her leathers splayed out on the table, apparently drying from a wash, and slipped back into them. The slightly damp material felt cool against her aching skin.

  “Warn them of what?”

  Palius hesitated, a deep and troubled breath filling her chest. “Of what is coming.”

  Chapter 18

  The company trekked on through the dark of morning, dredging across a ragged terrain of jumbled trees and thick underbrush till sunrise. With the sun of afternoon came a broad grassland, spilling thigh high yellow grass out before them that reached into the horizon. Tainted only by the occasional withered tree gnarling up from the ground like a dried claw, the field was an otherwise unending sea of yellow. As the afternoon deepened, a fierce glare of sun took over the day. The heat burned on the Amazons, somehow proving hotter this day than any other.

  I wiped another sting of sweat from my eyes. Tilting the leather pouch to my lips, I poured hot water down my bone dry throat. After a few long gulps, that was the end of it. I was out of water, as I suspected most of my friends were. I looked over my shoulder to see Saratiese keeping steady just a step behind me. Her skin flushed pink and sweat smeared the girl’s brown hair to her forehead as she walked, mouth gaping open. It felt like we were cooking in the scorch. Laidea led our company at such a taxing stride that every one of us drenched in exhaustion. Hours and hours had passed over us with the same yellow grass tickling at our thighs. No one had spoken in hours. We were falling victim to the parched landscape.

  I forced a swallow down my thick throat. I understood why our company had to keep pace. Queen Perseathea. If we didn’t get to her in time… well, I couldn’t bear such a thought. Along with such a grim outcome for the Queen, came one just as grim for us. First Commander Masseeia would have us put out from the tribe. Banished from GarTaynia and the Amazons, if she had her way about it. We’d be lucky if death was not suggested for this ‘heresy’.

  My thoughts tripped to a halt when I stumbled into Belsiphiny. Jolted back into the now, I noticed the whole company idling to a stop. Laidea stood with her hand up.

  "Quiet." She ordered.

  The wind whispered over the grass. The Commander breathed in, listening again to the rustle of scorched wind as it fingered over the field.

  "Water…. I can smell it."

  Along with the others, I took in the air. The sweet fragrance of a distant stream flirted on the hot breeze. Sprinting to the end of the grass, all of us found a breathtaking view. The dead grass dropped off into a burst of lush valley. Violets swayed on the downward curve of hillside as shade trees clumped together down below. A stream of cerulean waters ran the width of the valley, twisting and turning around many swollen fruit trees. Greening bushes weighed heavy with plump berries, and fig trees and pomegranates dotted the land. The sun bathed the gully in a golden light that warmed the place, sparking it to life.

  We stood for a moment, taking in the sight with wide eyes. My breath was lost on the land. It was as if the death of the grasslands had somehow given birth to this place, giving the last of its life to this lush valley.

  “We thank you, Goddess.” Laidea mumbled.

  With grins all around, we scattered down the hill. Laughter filled the air as the braves ran ahead of us, peeling off their leathers as they went. The warriors followed just behind, tearing our sweat soaked garments from our bodies and dropping them along the fresh green grass.

  As soon as I reached the brook, I dove in, cool water washing over my body like a baptism. The water stung every scrape, cut, and wound with a pleasurable tingle. I drank in the sweet water, cupping handful after handful to my mouth. Dunking under once again, I treasured the stream’s cold and refreshing embrace, loosening the blood dried binding around my chest. The water turned warm as it trickled down my head, streaming down my heated body. My prized amulet dangled my neck as I brought another handful of water to my face, cooling my sun burned skin.

  Content to wade in to my shoulders, I then turned, noticing Saratiese bathing closer to the reeds. Sinking back in the water, I held silent, curious, watching as the girl palmed her wet, autumn colored hair. She leaned over to drink, her breast bobbing atop the stream as she cupped the water to her lips. Then, dipping under, she disappeared. When she broke the surface, water droplets glistened her body like jewels. The sun cast a rosy light over her curves as the wind teased ripples through the glittering water and over Saratiese’s naked body.

  I stood captured, my mind suddenly racing with thoughts. Aching thoughts. Thoughts I’d never had and might never be able to indulge. Where was all of this coming from? This impulse? This intrigue? And my dream? I had never felt this way before. Not with Saratiese. Not with anyone. And with my mother gone, I had no one to ask. No one to talk to about such awkward feelings. Was this normal? These images in my head? I know such images come, but why were mine pictures with Saratiese? I’d suffered so much with her over the last cycle. None of this made sense.

  But my thoughts remained, playing on as I gazed at Saratiese, watching her smooth soft hands over her wet skin. A twinge of butterflies fluttered in my stomach, and anxious, I felt my cheeks flush pink at just the thought that the girl might somehow sense what I was thinking. Then, as if she did, her blue eyes met mine. I flitted my eyes away, as if that might somehow rub out that she had caught me staring. When I did gain the courage to look back, Saratiese still gazed on me, smiling, and I knew she had not looked away. Not for a moment.

  The sun leapt forward in the sky as the warriors warmed on the bank, the braves still at play in the water. Laidea warmed in her own silence watching the others talk, waiting a goodly time before she parted her paled lips to speak.

  “Kelius.” The warrior looked up. “Are the leathers washed and fresh?"

  "Yes Commander."

  Laidea nodded. “It’s almost time we go. Collect the warriors and ready the company.”

  Kelius saluted, then walked away. Saratiese stood up, and I followed, but the Commander cut in.

  "Askca, Saratiese. Stay with me.”

  We did as we were told. As the other warriors left with Kelius, Laidea shifted her gaze to Saratiese.

  "Take the braves and gather berries and figs." Saratiese saluted. “Yes Commander.” And with that, she drew away from us, starting toward the water.

  "Commander?" I stood waiting for my instruction.

  "Sit with me.”

  I nodded, knowing. But I still felt uncomfortable with the Commander. After our last talk, and my disrespect, I didn’t know how to approach her. We’d all grown close after Blood River. The Sookurie had reminded us all of how little time we might have left in life. But her words about Queen Perseathea, they stirred something in me. A type of denying anger that I couldn’t seem to control. But I had to. If I wanted to be a great warrior, my emotions would have to be tempered. Taking a deep breath, trying to calm myself, I sat down.

  “Are we leaving soon, Commander? Before we lose too much daylight?”

  “Soon.” Laidea looked to me with solemn eyes. Something in those eyes told me she knew exactly what she was doing. She seemed to be timing everything. Our rests, our meditations, balanced by her driving us so hard through the night, all of it bowed to her. She knew far more than she expressed to any of us. I knew that. And that’s what scared me. She was trying to tell me. I could feel it.

  “I need to talk with you, Askca, and as your Commander I will not tolerate the disrespect you offered last time. You will sit and you will listen."

  Laidea’s tone drew cold into my ears, and I shrunk back. "Yes Commander."

  “What I must tell you I have kept hidden for many cycles. Only I, and a select few, know. There is a foretelling of one who is born of the blood and of its’ fire. It is foreseen that ‘the consecrated will rise to become savior of a nation. This child will be born, covered in blood, then born a second time in the blood of ceremony.’”

  “An Amazon?” I asked, thinking b
ack on the Amazon the Gragorians searched.

  “Born into warriorhood by the blood of allegiance.”

  “But we are all made warriors this way.”

  “The blood of the prophecy holds trickery. It can also mean ‘an empire built on the blood of innocents.’ It is up to the consecrated to choose a path. If this chosen one rises from darkness, it will be the rise of a dark empire.”

  “How could an Amazon-”

  “Because this gift from the Goddess is a double edged sword.” Laidea eyed me. “Only one of a pure heart will choose the sacrificial path.”

  “And the fire?” I asked.

  “In the Allegiance Ceremony ‘the consecrated will be cleansed by fire and made clean, pure of heart and able to

  stand. One against an empire, and it shall fall.’”

  I hesitated, thinking a moment. “How do we know if the consecrated is wicked?”

  “The consecrated will not be born malevolent. It is not a destiny beyond their choosing.”

  “But then-”

  “We won’t know. It could be any child of the bloodline. No matter how the consecrated is determined, they will choose their own path, but the will of man is easily bent.”Laidea’s words rang on long as I sat, quite, taking it in. How had I never heard of this prophecy? Why did not all Amazons know of it? If one is to come that will either save or destroy us, why has this secret not been shared? I looked back to Laidea.

  “Why do you share this with me, rather than the entire company?”

  “These are truths you must know, Askca. The time has not come for them to know.” Laidea paused, leaning in. “So you must vow to me that you will keep these words silent, not uttering them even under your breath.”

  “My word.” I promised, even though I did not understand.

  Chapter 19

  Laidea went on with her secrets, taking me back, telling me of the day that changed everything.

  The scream twisted around the trees. The auburn haired child froze, dropping the feather from her fingers. As it floated down the breeze, the sound came again. Screaming. Laidea’s breath caught. The young brave wet her lips, venturing a step forward. The cries agonized on in high pitches, broken apart by hard breath. Laidea crouched, looking about the trees. She saw no one, but the screams were close. She slid her hand down into her boot, sliding the dagger from the sheath at her ankle. Blade in hand, the child rose again to her feet, creeping forward.

  The cry came again. The howls shot out from the brush just ahead. Light footed, the child went on till she tipped her gaze just over the shrub. Something squirmed. Screeched. And there was blood. She bolted back down into a crouch, her blade shaking in her fist. On hands and knees she crept to the side of the hedge. Another scream, icing more like a shrill, with pain twirling the noise. Laidea perched on her toes, bending behind the bush. Waiting. Shaking, she pulled back the limbs. Another shriek hit her dead on.

  “Agh!”

  “Agh!” Laidea herself screamed, toppling backward. Shuffling back to her feet, she scurried back to the bush. Behind it laid a girl in a scatter of bloody leaves. Tattered rags clothed her frail and bruised body. Blood dripped her thighs and her face squealed a bright pink.

  Palming her belly and panting, the girl spoke. “Wha… what is it you are called?”

  Laidea didn’t reply. She simply stood there. Curious. Studying the girl. Probing her tattered rags. Her frail and bruised body. Lingering on the blood dripping her legs. She looked to be a few cycles older. The age of a new warrior, fresh into her womanhood. But this girl looked to be no warrior. She came across more as a terrified slave girl.

  “Is your mother near?” The girl asked, staring at Laidea, her eyes pleading.

  The brave kept silent, a gentle breeze shuffling the Blackhawk feathers through her auburn hair. She wasn’t certain what to do. This girl was not one of her people. What if this was a trap?

  The slave girl let out another grating cry, her face flushing hot red. Tears squeezed from her bloodshot eyes. Her legs spread, bending at the knees. Blood oozing. Her belly heaving in sudden and frantic breaths.

  Convinced this could be no trick, Laidea bent down to the strange girl, palming her knees.

  “Do you… do you need help?”

  The slave girl glared, her face pinching in pain. “My… my baby. It might already be dead-”

  “I can help you.”

  The slave girl nodded, grinding her elbows into the dirt. Bleeding. Crying.

  “Who was the slave girl?” I interrupted.

  Laidea smiled at me, maybe for the first time since the Temple. She smiled at me then too, when approaching me before the battle, looking more pleased than content. I hadn’t understood it then, if I’d even noticed, but seeing that same smile again now made me remember. I remember not understanding how the woman could look so at ease before combat, how her nerves didn’t bleed through. What could she be thinking about?

  The warmth in her eyes glowed as she hesitated, this memory obviously close to her heart, and that’s when I realized… her smile was a smile of love. Leaning into me, she whispered the answer to my question.

  “Queen Perseathea.”

  I gasped. The Queen? This woman I had revered as almost a god since my youth, since my first words… had a secret so astonishing that it bared inconceivable. An Amazon Queen had no child in secret. The baby arrived with great celebration, honored as a sacred child. A child of the chosen. A daughter bestowed upon the Queen by the goddess herself.

  Commander Laidea glanced over the sandy banks and the stream, watching the girls, hesitating her words as the hot breeze wisped through her auburn hair. Then, she settled eyes on me.

  “Was the child stillborn?” I asked, and without answering me, she went on.

  "After the birth, Perseathea told me she was on a journey to reunite with the Amazons. She and her mother Bria had been of the Qkuose sisterhood. Gragore killed Bria, kidnapping Perseathea the same night. She was only eight at the time. He stole her away because of the foretelling of the consecrated.”

  “The one born of the blood and of its’ fire.” I whispered. “Is Queen Perseathea the consecrated?”

  Laidea put her watch back to the sunny banks, making certain of our privacy again.

  "I don’t know. Perseathea herself does not know.” The woman leaned in close to me, the burn on her shoulder grazing mine. “All we know is that Bria’s bloodline is blessed. The consecrated is to be born of her blood.”

  “You don’t know if the consecrated has been born yet?”

  Laidea took a deep breath in surrender. “No. The consecrated could be Queen Perseathea. The consecrated could be a child not yet born.”

  “So this is why the Gragorian has brought war to GarTaynia?”

  “Yes.”

  “But why does this warlord believe he can control the prophecy?”

  “Gragore thinks that he can father the consecrated, making the child of his blood as well. A son to raise his empire.”

  “Can he?”

  Laidea shrugged. “The prophecy never speaks of the father. Only the mother.” She paused, seemingly lost in her thoughts, her eyes now far away. “Gragore’s quest began long, long ago, Askca. Many cycles before you, or even I, were born. And I fear we are still not near it‘s end.”

  I sat thinking, wondering, how such imposing and unimaginable circumstances could be going on in the unknown. How could the Nation not know of this? Or did they? Was this secret so deep that Queen Perseathea could not trust even the Nation with it?

  The heat burned on my cheeks as I took these thoughts in, my mind tangling as I tried to sort through it all. Long moments of silence passed between Laidea and I before she took another deep breath, searching a second wind to carry the story on.

  “Bria was close in age to Gragore himself, so as a foolish young man his plan was to tame her into his concubine. But the young warlord was unable to plant his seed in her before she killed a goodly portion of his soldiers and esca
ped. Many seasons passed, but Gragore eventually hunted Bria down. By then, she had a young daughter of her own.”

  “Queen Perseathea….”

  Laidea nodded. “Perseathea was held by Gragore six summers before she escaped. Unfortunately, she did not escape without his seed. That was the day I found her in the leaves. I was no more than ten summers myself.”

  “Did Gragore come for her child?”

  “His witch predicted the child was not to be male. He beat Perseathea up until the day she escaped, hoping to kill the baby, angry at ‘her failure’. He planned to kill the baby the moment it was born.”

  “So now he has come to finish the deed… kill the child.”

  “His plans for the child are much worse than death.”

  "But…” I hesitated, “how could Queen Perseathea have a child that no one has ever seen?"

  "She kept the child secret. She had to. She knew Gragore would come for her daughter once she became fresh for childbearing. And now… he has started a war for her.”

  Chapter 20

  "Commander." Kelius stood before Laidea, her ebony frame silhouetted further by the blaring sun. “We are ready to leave at your command."

  Nodding, Laidea lifted to her feet. “Tell Saratiese I am ready for her."

  “Yes Commander." The warrior retreated back to the water, motioning to Saratiese.

  Laidea turned back to me, and I palmed my knees, lifting to my feet. Looking at her now, I realized a new found admiration. I had always looked up to her, true. As a warrior, a Commander, she stood unrivaled in my eyes… except for the First Commander and the Queen herself. But that was no longer what tugged my heart in esteem. It was in her quiet that I found her most courageous. She held tight lips over such a daunting secret. And for such a long time. A secret that would be tearing its’ way from the lips of most, clawing its’ way out like a tasty morsel eager to be shared. Begging to be told. And it was in Laidea’s calm, in the words she had the strength of will not to utter, that I found her true power. And now, she shared these secrets, these mysteries, with me. Fingering my amulet I fell speechless, feeling impressed and unworthy.