Amazon: Signs of the Secret

by Ms. Becky J. Rhush

  Scrambling to my feet, I busted a kick into his bloody cheek. The warlord tossed back in a spurt of blood. I lifted the axe from the dirt, then tackled down on top of him.

  “I am the daughter of the Amazon Queen Perseathea.” I said, my jaw clenching so hard it hurt. Throttling into his throat with one hand, I lifted my axe, “the bringer of your death.”

  Chapter 74

  After, I stared on Gragore‘s body. His head sat nothing more than a chunk of flesh and bone shards, exposed and bleeding. Attracting flies. Seeing him panged me with visions of my mother and Artamene. He had done this to them. All of this. What he took from me that day changed me forever. Trapped me. He stole what I was meant to become, and killed it. And never for a moment felt guilt. My heart sped with disbelief, hard and painful thumps, just the way it had the day they told me. The day I learned my family was dead. Acid shot my tongue, sending a tremble through my body, and I thought I might vomit. Holding my breath, I closed my eyes, running away from myself. With Gragore’s blood on my hands, I waited for the release, the liberation… but it didn’t come.

  Angered by this, I opened my eyes, staring down on him with accusation and disgust. Tearing the axe from his face, scraps of meat slopped to the dirt, and this gory blade shook in my hands, oozing blood down my elbows. And the seething took me over. Pain running wild. Clenching into the handle, I could no longer control its’ surge in my veins. I stabbed the axe back into him. Severing his throat. Chopping his chest. His gut. Heat blazing, I lost all remembrance of where I was. Everything turned into that day. Looking and smelling and reminding me of that day.

  I hacked the blade, over and over. Chopping. Executing. I killed him, again and again, unable to kill him enough. My blade finally cut into the dirt beneath his shredded corpse, and out of breath, I forced myself to stop. Dropping my chin to my chest, a rush of warmth flooded me and I couldn’t hold it back. It had tried to come on me for a cycle’s time, this maddening sorrow, and today I could no longer fight it. Tears escaped me, muddling into the blood at my knees.

  I could feel the splatters of Gragore’s blood streaking my face, smell it. The axe slid from my hands. This man was my father, now he lay beneath me. Under me. Subject to the daughter he had cursed. Waiting, I choked back a sob, begging the relief of vengeance to come. In the long moments of silent tears, my heart sunk deeper into my chest because I knew now, it would not come. Not like this.

  I knelt there, unable to move. The rush of black hatred that had possessed me, had scared me, finally drained, replaced by a morbid disappointment. A sadness. I lifted shaking hands, staring at my blood stained palms. I didn‘t know who I was anymore.

  Without words, Perseathea suddenly embraced me, pulling me in. Comforting me. Palming my head to her chest, she rocked me like an infant, whispering.

  “I’m here, Askca.”

  I hugged into her, desperate, warming tears into her bosom. I felt like a child all over again, vulnerable and scared, wanting to hide. I missed my mother so much, and the tenderness in this woman’s arms made me understand how much I still needed my mother.

  A cheer erupted throughout the fallen fortress, lifting my head from Perseathea‘s chest. A wave of whooping and hollering swept over, countless soldiers fleeing in a sea of clanging metal. The battle was over and the Amazons triumphant.

  A thunderous rumble boomed down the pathway, and Queen Perseathea and I both flitted our gaze in the direction of the crash. One of the many blazing stables crumbled in a cloud of smoke, the flames spitting out a crazed horse and smoke charred rider. As the horse bucked up, Masseeia glared down the pathway, locking her sights on me, the whites of her eyes penetrating through her soot caked face. As the stallion’s hooves clapped back into the dirt, the First Commander twisted the steed around, charging down the alleyway and out of sight.

  I scrambled my hands through the bloody mud, retrieving my axe, then jumped to my feet. I launched to run, but stopped short under Queen Perseathea‘s hand.

  “No.” She commanded, holding my arm.

  “What?” I questioned, my chest heaving again with adrenalin. The Queen took the axe from my hand.

  “Killing is not always the answer.”

  “But-”

  “There has been enough death for one day.”

  “But she’ll never give up.” I swallowed, confused by Perseathea’s calm. Didn’t she realize? Masseeia would not stop until she, the Queen, was dead. “She’ll come for us!”

  “And when she does, you’ll be ready.” She looked down on me with kind eyes, pulling me in under her shoulder. “But today you have known enough bloodshed. Mercy, my daughter. It separates heroes from murderers.”

  Chapter 75

  That evening calm settled over the land. A sea green sky glowing with blush colored clouds hung like an ocean above us, bathing the fall of day in a golden haze, beckoning twilight. I stood atop the fortress wall as the heavens opened up, showering down sheets of cleansing rain to wash away the day’s blood. The warm rain trickled my skin in a summer mist, rinsing my bloody palms, washing away the death. This was the quite after battle.

  My bare feet cooling on the wet stone, I looked over the field of the fallen. A sea of lifeless bodies littered the land as flames sparkled, crackling in defiance of the evening rain. Vast death beneath the splendor of a sunset, and here I stood… alive. Part of me couldn’t believe it, and yet part of me had expected it all along.

  All but for the whispers in the wind, silence covered the approaching dusk. A gentle hand rested on my shoulder and I turned to find Queen Perseathea there, staring past me to the flickers below. I gazed on my mother without words, and at the sight of her, shuttered in the once warm raindrops. Sensing my thoughts, she looked down on me with those same knowing eyes from the night of my Allegiance Ceremony. She pulled me into her embrace and words failed me, as they so often did. In the comfort of my mother’s touch, I closed my eyes, striving to forget what I had seen, what I had done, and more than anything, what I had become. A warrior.

  Late that night, we the Amazons of GarTaynia and Arcania, strode into Pahll-sus, overwhelming the town with our great number. A goodly count of the women, worn by a day of heavy battle, set their sights on the tavern. Queen Perseathea, Laidea, and most of my company took quite refuge in the companionship of our new friends; Reb-Beca the Queen of Arcania, Meesha and her Amazon sister Elissea, Bartamius, Nahlla, Tythose, and the rest of those who had fought to free us. But desperate to breathe, I sought out Saratiese. Nearing the fire glow of the inn, I noticed Lathenia standing outside the doorway.

  "Askca." She gestured me over.

  "Where is she?"

  "Come on."

  As I passed by, the elderly inn keep flit me a nervous glance, but quickly dropped his eyes back to his tome records. Taking my final pace to the last door on the left, a chill pricked me over. Part of me wanted to run into that room, but the fear of what I might find… it held me. Frozen. I stood, unable to move my feet.

  Lathenia cracked the door open, but she did not step aside. She instead looked up at me, warning me with her eyes. I forced a smile, trying to assure the girl I was ready, but I knew I wasn’t. What waited beyond that door frightened me more than anything. Trying to look calm, I put a hand on Lathenia’s shoulder, imploring her to step aside.

  Candlelight flickered the walls of the room, struggling in the breeze from a partly open window. The scent of rain flowered in to console me. Modest, this room reminded me of the kiss Saratiese and I shared on the slope and the night we’d shared late after.

  At the sight of her, my hand covered my mouth, a painful frost squeezing into my chest. Saratiese lay in the bed, still as ice. As still as death. My knees weakened like water beneath me as I knelt at her bedside.

  "Sara…?"

  Saratiese laid with her arms resting at her sides, her eyes closed as if in slumber. Sliding dark wisps of hair from her face, the bruises surfaced. Her cheek and eye stained under the same yellows and purples
, her lips swelling darker than wine. The light in her dimmed, struggling like the candle near the window, but her beauty was fighting back. Even with her face marred and broken, she took my breath away.

  And grief and disbelief swept me, pleading for me to change this. I hovered a palm, resting it over Saratiese’s stomach. Over her unborn child. Slow and gentle I traced fearful fingers over her belly, anguish stinging me. Breaking me. I dropped my face, nuzzling into the coverlet, heart breaking. Again it defied me, beating on, forcing me to live. Tired of tears, I clenched desperate fingers into the blanket, holding my breath.

  "Askca." Came a soft voice from behind. A small hand settled on my back. "I have something for you."

  Pulling myself up, I smeared the lone tear from my eye. Palius stood silent, offering me no more explanation than the scroll in her hand. I looked to the parchment, worn by time and stained with bloody soil.

  “What is it?” I asked, slipping it from her fingers.

  Palius said nothing, instead falling on my neck, embracing me. After long moments, she spoke softly in my ear.

  "Saratiese wrote it."

  I pulled away. “Saratiese?"

  "It was with her things.”

  I looked back down to the rolled parchment in my hand. "What’s in it?”

  Palius pulled up from our embrace, standing to leave me. "The truth."

  Alone in the room again, I pulled the olive colored tie from the scroll, letting it drop to my feet. With a slow crackle, I unrolled it. At the sight of Saratiese’s words, my heart flittered, curious yet fearful. The paled yellow parchment with its strokes of black ink gripped my heart with heavy fingers. I read the first words, knowing. I did not want to go where they would take me….

  Chapter 76

  The scroll.

  That morning started out deceptively warm. A bright day carrying hope on the crisp scent of dew as it glittered in the treetops and across the grass. It was Balena and I’s usual path and we traveled it most every day. I coddled a content Artamene on my hip, strolling behind Balena for vanilla bark.

  The woman likened as a fate mother to me since my own blood mother left to marry a man of Garrgua, (Garrgua being the tribe chosen for GarTaynia’s fertility rite), a handful of springs ago. A man I suspect to be my father, but have no genuine proof of such. In those days of my mother’s passage to that tribe beyond the lake, I was left to the tribe mothers of GarTaynia, to be raised by the whole of us. Askca being my dearest friend, her mother Balena soon became partial to me, and I to her.

  Balena aged into the spring of her thirtieth season with a wit sharp as a sword, yet her disposition soothed sweet and kind. Not only a beautiful woman and a skilled warrior; she was also a devoted mother and the funniest person I knew. I adored her. We indulged many of these strolls, talking and laughing, growing as close as any mother and daughter might be, as well as becoming cherished friends. Some mornings Askca came with us, but this day, just like most, the brave engaged in her beloved combat training.

  We spoke of Askca often, of the promise she held as a warrior, of the fire and passion in her eyes. But also, of her persistent short sightedness, which proved her to be rash, but also endearing. It’s one of the reasons I chose her as my closest of companions. I admired her impulsive nature and wished I could be more like that myself sometimes.

  The sun shone white in a blue, cloud dappled sky, reaching down through a web of budding branches, warming my shoulders. Summer was on its way and I was glad.

  “You look tired this morning, Sara.” Balena said over her shoulder, walking in front of me on the foot beaten mud. “I hope my aggressive vanilla tracking doesn’t prove too much a task.”

  I snickered at the woman’s sarcasm, offering a finger to Artamene, which she grasped, but the infant quickly became disinterested. “It’s Askca’s fault.”

  “Did she trick you into sneaking out for another swim?” Balena giggled, obviously fonder of Askca’s regaling story than I of the memory.

  “No. Thank the Goddess. I still can’t reach the tunic she tossed up the tree that night.” I readjusted Artamene, snuggling the infant, allowing her to tangle her tiny fingers in my long hair. “No, this time she kept me up all night talking about my ceremony.”

  “Oh…” Balena paused, dipping down to examine a thicket of pink flowers, “you nervous?”

  My chest tightened. “As much as you can be.”

  “I remember my Allegiance Ceremony….” The warrior let her words drop off as if they dare not be spoken, a world away from her customary ‘calm lake’ confidence.

  “Pretty painful?”

  “Completely.” She said without a blink, plucking a pink bud, then resuming her pace in front of me.

  I sucked in an anxious breath, surrendering my attention back down to a cooing Artamene, happily pulling my hair. “That’s comforting.”

  “You’ll do fine, Sara. It’s called adrenalin. Trance. Or a lot of those little funny berries that make you laugh.” The woman smiled at me over her shoulder.

  “Balena!”

  “Askca kept you up carrying on about how jealous she is, didn’t she?”

  “Yes, which I don’t understand. Well I do. Well… I do and I don’t.”

  “That clears it up.”

  “I mean, I am excited about becoming a woman. Crossing over. Earning the place to be involved in fertility rite, but-“

  “Not happy about the cutting?”

  “No.”

  “Who is? But you’ll do wonderful. Askca can’t wait for her ceremony, she’s itching to run up the alter steps tonight. It’s all she ever talks about.”

  “I know, but that’s because she plans to be GarTaynia’s most celebrated warrior yet.”

  “And I don’t doubt her for a moment.” Balena said without taking a breath.

  I’d noticed it before, but in that moment it became even more manifest. When Balena spoke of her daughter, her words were like a song of sparrows. Such pride. Such joy. Askca was her light, and everything about the woman beamed when she spoke of her eldest daughter. It made me wonder if my own mother, somewhere off in Garrgua; ever spoke of me that way. Balena continued. “And she’s always been that way. When Askca was about four cycles, we had a goat named Shae-Lah-”

  “I remember that goat.” My memory sparked. “Beige and black?”

  “The very one. And Shae-Lah hated Askca.”

  “But she loved that goat.”

  “Of course she did. That poor animal endured all of her imaginations. I’d look out behind our hut and Askca would be riding that goat like it was her very own stallion, a stick for a sword in her hand. Shae-Lah would kick and buck. Askca would fly off into the dirt. But she always got back up. Scared me as the mother of a small child, but she never cried, so I let her be. Eventually I got used to it.”

  “Sounds like her combat training now.”

  “I’ve failed to get used to that. I can’t even watch her in combat training. Hurts my heart, necessary or not.” Balena paused, and it seemed she was pushing off the uncomfortable thoughts.

  An unexpected clap of thunder drew our attention up. The recent speckle of clouds seemed to be doubling. “Looks like we’re in for an afternoon rain.”

  I took in the scent of the approaching shower, patting Artamene’s bottom. “Looks like.”

  “One day,” Balena went on, “I looked back there and she had poor Shae-Lah tied up at the hooves and was threatening to bring her to Amazon Council if the goat didn’t confess. That’s also what makes her such a devoted big sister, isn’t that right Artamene?” Balena turned back to us, the sound of her voice charming the baby, a pink and toothless grin lifting Artamene’s lips. “Sister Askca is always willing to play with you and protect you till the very end. Isn’t she?”

  “Askca was born to be a warrior.” I shrugged. “I know its part of my duty since I was so chosen, but I’d rather just be a mother.”

  “And that’s my meaning, Sara.” Regaining stride, Balena strolled
further down the path, searching the vanilla bark. “Askca will face her Allegiance to become a warrior because that’s her dream. You will face it to become a mother, because that’s yours. Either choice leads to the same path and by way of it, the rightful rewards. You can face your ceremony because it’s your path to baring your own child.”

  Her words warmed me with confidence. She was right. I wanted to be a mother one day, and if this was my only path to fertility rite, I would take it. I palmed the back of Artamene’s auburn peach fuss head, amused by her latest decision to eat my hair rather than twist it.

  “I remember the first time I saw Askca.” Balena slowed her pace as if she were staring contentedly into the past. After a pause to reminisce, she turned to me. “She was the most beautiful baby. As soon as I saw her, I knew I could never love anyone as much as I loved her in that moment.” Her gaze then drifted down to Artamene, and she motioned to pull the baby into her arms. Taking the child from me, she held her little girl, gazing over Artamene with pride. “At least until this little angel came along-“

  Her demeanor cut off as she flashed eyes to the surrounding trees. In one swift yank, Balena dropped me to the ground just as an arrow stung past my cheek. My stomach flew into my throat. The warrior woman crouched in a tangle of leaves, hugging Artamene in tight as the baby squirmed against her bosom. We didn’t move. We didn’t talk. She scanned the trees. Moments passed. No movement. The warm breeze crept through the leaves, lifting them in a gentle hiss. A distant bird squawked.

  I lay at Balena’s feet, my mouth dry. My heart racing. I clenched rigid fingers into the grass. I noticed the cool mud in my fingernails. Holding my breath, I waited. I didn’t hear anything unusual.

  "We’re surrounded." She whispered. "Take Artamene.”

  A cold apprehension hit me. “What?”

  Balena flit insistent fingers at my shoulder, nudging. “Get ready to run."