The Legacy of Lanico: Reclaiming Odana

by E Cantu Alegre

  "If you want to join me"―Anah's voice broke Treva’s memory―"you can, though I realize you may not want to take this risk. I'll be starting behind this hut after midnight, where the trees start to thicken up the hill beyond the trench." She jerked her chin up. “Their rotation will be underway at that point and the moonlight will highlight the steps that need to be taken to avoid injury, or explo—”

  "—I'll think about it," Treva said in a small, quick whisper, her eyes still fixed on the floor.

  "Pffff," Anah puffed in frustration.

  In the distance, a Mysra guard blew a loud and low note on the horn, calling the WynSprigns to their huts for the night. The time for socializing had quickly ended. The horn—the first time Treva heard it, it was for a military exercise. The next, it was blaring to signal alarm for the arrival of Mysra troops. Since then, it had been used for the slave’s curfew.

  Treva blinked hard and looked around the hut. She slowly stood up and ducked out through the curtain door, leaving Anah to her preparations. Whether or not she joined Anah, leaving this way was for the better.

  ✽✽✽

  Hours later, the shift change was taking place high above in the watchtower, and the ground patrol had finished their final checks for the evening, making sure no one was walking about. The guards gathered by the central fire pit to keep warm and talk amongst themselves. They still kept a watchful eye until the shift changed with new rested and fed guards. The guards were supposed to walk around the encampment all night, but they had gotten lazy over the years. Occasionally a WynSprign might get in trouble for breaking the schedule, or curfew, but this was a rare occurrence.

  Anah slowly opened her curtain and peered out with her eyes lowered, diverting their glow in the darkness. Once she saw that the guards were not around, as expected, she strapped her sleeping mat to her back and held a small bag of belongings. She slowly rounded the corner of the hut and then quickly headed to the wooded area just behind it. She repeated a series of steps and pivots that she had practiced in secret for weeks, a dance to avoid the landmines and poison barb bombs whose location she had memorized. She placed soft steps on the grassy ground until she arrived on the hill above. She didn’t keep track of her time, but it seemed to take only seconds.

  Anah kept her green gaze at the trees, her target. She ambled into the leafy cover when suddenly, she gasped. She caught herself and held her purple-stained hand over her mouth in surprise. She was looking into a set of golden glowing eyes within the leafy brush. Treva.

  Or was it?

  It seemed Anah wasn’t the only one who had memorized the placement of traps through the trenches.

  Treva squatted low under the overhanging branches, wearing something gleaming that blended into the silvery leaves of the tree under which she crouched. Her bonnet was gone and the moon's glow shone over her hair, icy emerald in the night. Dazzling. The light outlined the chiseled sharp edges and details of her ornate attire. This wasn't some cheap metal lashed together for fights. This was . . . regal . . . glorious.

  "What-?"—Anah started, forgetting her tone.

  "Sshhh," warned Treva, waving a hand at Ana.

  Anah’s hut was still in view. They had to remain silent.

  Anah had turned to stone but managed to gulp. Treva was a stunning vision. Something about the armor had changed her. The emerald hair—there had been only one woman, warrior with emerald hair. A true WynSprign warrior. No, not just a warrior, a Knight! She was something Anah had only heard of in old tales, the tales she thought were only happy lies.

  "Let's go!" Treva whispered dryly, her gaze sharp at Anah.

  Anah nodded, still in shock. Anah’s thoughts tumbled through her mind with excitement.

  They turned and quietly bounded into the woods and away from the encampment. Every pounding step promised a life closer to freedom. They just needed to get far enough away.

  They walked for hours in silence, passing though grassy plains of purple flowers Anah knew would be stunning in sunlight. At one point, Anah was about to turn to check the distance behind them when Treva spotted her sideling, and stopped her.

  In a stern voice she ordered, “Don’t look behind—we’re not headed in that direction.” Treva explained quietly that if a captive looks back to her place of imprisonment, she’d likely return. It was not only the physical return Treva had meant. They were starting over again. Independent and free. The lives of slavery, subservience, and objectification were to be left behind.

  Returning to any of these - it was too horrific to consider.

  Anah nodded and resumed, setting her sights on the land in front of them—and unflinchingly keeping them there.

  Together, they made their way southeast, toward the wooded foothills of the Odana Mountains. Their once-quick pace over the passing hours became increasingly slow. Their bodies had been broken over the years while their stomachs had always remained empty. With this new and long exertion, their fingers tingled in weakness, and their vision swirled.

  “Treva. I’m dizzy.” Anah panted.

  "I know. Me too” She breathed. She glanced down at the girl who was now fumbling with her canteen. “Yes, take a drink of water. That’ll help a bit.” She took a swig herself. “I'd like us to get on the other side of these mountains before daybreak," Treva said, breaking the brief silence. She angled her head to the majestic mountain tops overhead, outlined against the promising deep blue of the pre-dawn sky. "This mountain pass is a little lower and the climb should not be as challenging and it thins out, here, in this spot,” she jerked her head toward the mountain “it’s only just this one mountain at this location." It had been long since she had traversed these lands, but she knew this area. She glanced over at Anah, who was exhausted but smiled; a show that her spirits had not flagged.

  "Okay, we're both tired," Treva said with deep gasps. “And, I’d forgotten about the weight of this armor―I was much stronger when I last wore it.” She stiffened her lips. "Let's . . . let's stop to rest . . . there"―she pointed to a small ledge that jutted out near the summit of the lower mountain. “I remember a cave there, that can hide us. We can stay there and hidden from the sun while we rest.”

  Anah only nodded—she felt too breathless to respond.

  Desperate for safety and pushing aside exhaustion, they started their ascent right then, Treva in the lead, walking at an angle up the side of the mountain. The mountain brush and crags dragged against their legs as they climbed, and they had to dig their toes into the side of the mountain as they climbed.

  Panting, Treva explained that once they were over these peaks, they would be headed back down the other side of the mountain and she knew the dense Odana forest well―it would be hard for a Mysra guard or warrior to find them there.

  Anah felt the panic of their pursuers in her imagination, and she kept thinking she heard them shouting or scrambling up behind them. Despite her fatigue, she was spooked to make it up and over quickly. The weathered, ancient mountain didn't have enough vegetation hide their tracks, and some instinct in her knew speed was their best hope.

  As they inched up beneath the ledge and drew near the cavern, Anah mistakenly peered over to the land below. "Whoa!" she exclaimed wildly, almost losing her grip.

  "C'mon, up we go—no looking down!” Treva ordered. “I need you to keep your footing!" Treva growled an additional command: "Keep your eyes fixed on the goal and you'll make it there." Treva clenched her jaw and Anah saw her pain as the older woman’s face became more angular to match her determination. Anah remembered Treva’s injury and marveled—she was tough.

  "All right," Anah panted, feeling dizzy, not wanting Treva to fear for her. Sweat soaked through her dirtied tunic.

  First Treva entered the cavern’s landing and turned to lie flat and extend her arms down to Anah to assist in pulling her in with an agonizing groan. She trembled under the strain, still persevering, and Anah knew her life depended on her friend’s strength.

  Feeling guilty at mak
ing Treva’s pain greater, Anah worked to force herself up with all her might and aid in Treva's effort. With one last push of remaining energy, they hauled themselves up and into the cavern. Anah's slight body came up and over the edge of the cavern with one swift heave. She bowled into Treva. Elbows, legs, and backs collided.

  "Whew! We made it . . . we made it," Treva panted with relief, still trembling.

  The young Anah recovered almost immediately, stood quickly in her excitement, and forgot the command from Treva not to look down from the cave. Her dizziness renewed at the sight of the great distance beneath them. She felt her arms and legs grow numb and her body begin to sway, and only Treva’s quickly outstretched arm kept her from tumbling over the precipice.

  Treva shoved her back from the cave's overhang, and Anah finally collapsed at the back of the shallow cave, crumpling to sit.

  "Whew!" Treva panted.

  Anah hung her head between her knees and massaged the back of her neck, grateful for Treva. I would not have made it this far without her.

  The cave was just wide enough to cover them and allowed them to lie down and stretch their legs and arms. It was also the perfect overlook to watch for guards.

  Treva explained they must soon press on from there, but it wasn't urgent. What was urgent was their barking need for rest and food. “Now with the daylight,” Treva explained, “the Mysra guards are likely just noticing us missing, but they don’t know in which direction. But then again, they are good at tracking and if they use horses, well, they'll find us sooner rather than later.”

  Anah gulped.

  Treva sat up and started rummaging around in her bag. Anah, collapsed on the floor of the cave, couldn’t imagine what Treva was rummaging for, but when Treva held a brown roll before her half-shut eyes, Anah looked at it in amazement.

  "I've been stocking these up for a while," Treva explained. "I didn't plan on leaving, but I was always saving a few in case I—or you—needed them." She chuckled softly. "Uh—especially for you—with all your stays in the cage."

  Anah shot Treva a quick sour glance and sat up to snatch the roll, unloosing Treva’s hearty chuckle.

  The rolls were hard and several days old. With the great hunger rumbling in her insides, Anah found them more than adequate for now. Both of them had thought to bring flasks of water, and they tried to take as little as they could manage, drinking through the dryness of the bread. They had to make every drop last as long as possible.

  They nibbled on the rolls, tearing off small bits, as they peered over the land below, on the other side. Trees dotted the landscape, and there was much green beauty. Anah had never known such beauty existed. There was much she did not know about the land of Odana, the Odana forest, and perhaps even about Treva. At this thought, the splendor below quickly left Anah's mind.

  "So, where'd you get that armor?" she asked, chewing noisily.

  "Well"—Treva swallowed the dry bread with difficulty—"this armor is mine." She smiled with pride. “I had carried it in this sack to the hill and pieced it on while hiding in the trees, waiting for you.”

  Anah looked up at her questioningly, trying to read her gaze. That did not answer her question.

  Treva studied the torn bread in her dirty, purple fingers and sighed. "Alright. Before the battle, I was an Odana Second Lieutenant, a Knight. To be Knighted formally, one would have made the Lieutenant ranking." She looked up shyly at Anah. “So, I made Second Lieutenant.” Treva huffed a faint laugh. “I was the first female Knight.”

  Really?! Treva? Always meek and quiet . . . this is the first, the only female Odana Knight? Really?

  Treva continued, "Well, as I understand it, I was unconscious for the first days after the Seizure of Odana, and when I came to, I was in a hut—it became my hut, the same one you know. I was lying on a floor mat with my wound bandaged. My nursemaid Greta—from before—was there at my side. She was quite great with healing and had bandaged all around my middle.” Her mouth lifted a quick slight smile. “She quickly let me know that she had dragged me secretly into the hut. I'm still amazed that her small body was capable of dragging . . . well, anything." Treva tore off a small piece of bread and sighed. Her eyes sparkled. Tears.

  "She also told me that she had buried my armor in the dirt floor of my hut. I remember looking down at the ground, which had obviously been disturbed. She left me clothes—rags, really, and my bonnet." She chewed on the bread a bit more. "She convinced me to claim I had a skin ailment that affected my scalp and that I needed to wear my bonnet always." She swallowed it down. "Of course, no one questioned that, and no one wanted to come near me." Another swallow. "She left my hut saying that she would see me again, but I haven't seen her since." She focused in thought. "I was always careful to leave the dirt loose on the ground in my hut, keeping the floor covered with a large rug—an old blanket, really."

  She looked at Anah steadily. "You're not the only one who thought of rebelling, or who memorized the guard’s rotations."

  Anah noticed Treva’s dirty, jagged fingernails and filthy hands and arms. She must have spent the entire evening digging up the armor, before the midnight escape.

  "Greta—she was the only one who knew my true identity," Treva continued. "I was secretly married to an Odana Lieutenant General, Irza . . . the right hand of General Prince Lanico." Treva lowered her gaze, and her voice grew thick with emotion: "We were at battle with the Mysra. They were strong. They used trillium. It was all a sudden shock, the attack. They had left us on neutral terms days before."

  She looked at Anah. "We learned the true effect of trillium on the Mysra that day." She paused. "My Izra, he fought so valiantly. I was weak, for I had only just borne my baby." She breathed in pain and a damning tear managed to twinkle down her cheek—the first ever that Anah had seen from her. "I never told you about that . . . but I still had a duty for the crown. That duty came before my physical pain. Despite my efforts, I was struck by an archer's arrow, mid-battle. Izra turned to my aid and in his own duress; he took a sword for me . . ."

  She paused with a faraway look. "I cannot remember much after that. My memory then takes me to the hut."

  Anah sat in silence absorbing all this news. It was a struggle to digest, imagining Treva in such horror. It brought chills to her whole being.

  "I had a son . . . his name was Marin," Treva continued and more tears continued to well. "His hair was dark and curly, like his father's." She blinked and the hot tears streamed freely down her dirt-streaked cheeks. She remembered stroking his tiny ear with her thumb as he suckled. His small body cradled in her arms.

  Anah, seeing the pain in her friend, came close to her side and wrapped her arm around her back in warm support, but lightly, to avoid causing her pain. It was clear to Anah that Treva had put her memories aside for a long, long while in order to survive. Perhaps this was what the other slaves did as well. It was most likely what her own parents did. Perhaps this was why Treva had always seemed quiet and meek.

  Treva sniffed hard and wiped her face with the back of her wrist. "I don't know what happened to Marin. I had hoped he was with someone in safety. He wasn't among the dead after the battle, Greta assured me. When I look out over this vast land, I wonder—could he be out there? . . . Hiding?" Treva stopped and looked at Anah. "Would he know me? . . . Would I know him?"

  Anah leaned her head against Treva's. She felt a pit of grief in her own stomach in sympathy for her friend, and she swallowed against the ache to cry along with her. No. Strong—she would be strong for Treva here, at least.

  There they sat, side by side.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Woodland

  The Mysra guards Gax and Neen had ridden throughout the night, and in all that time found no signs of Gish, nor any travelers headed into the Odana. Continuing on their journey and following their superior’s orders, they finally came to the winding Odana River. The last water supply for many miles before the steppes of the Yellow Vast. It was hot, and the cool water seemed
pleasant to the horses as they drank. The Mysra riders were most unhappy, and this task only enhanced their disdain for Gish. Experienced at patrolling on horseback, they knew that this would have been the most reasonable stop for Grude’s pampered heir before he headed out into the Yellow Vast. It was a bend in the river that had large boulders to sit upon and a few logs lying about. But there was no sign of him.

  Neen specifically felt himself in constant competition with Gish and resorted to often-ruthless tactics to get his way. This time, he had brought his own “right-hand man” Gax to assist in his search efforts. He could trust Gax. If Neen couldn’t complete their mission, Gax would.

  “It’s possible Gish hasn’t made it quite this far yet,” Gax growled to Neen. “You know how he spoils the horses.” It was more of a question than a statement. He squinted, holding his hand up to shade his view.

  Neen nodded in agreement and took a long tug from his newly filled canteen. “Gish is spoiled, so he then spoils the horses—I swear, nothing good comes of him and his doing.”

  They walked around, inspecting the site. Gax wiped at his thick neck with his purple rag. Twins, Gax and Neen often had to have a way to distinguish between their often-identical belongings. Gax had chosen purple and Neen chose red. The purple rag was from the tattered tunic of their dead older brother.

  Gax sat on a log and looked up at the complaining Neen, nodding his head in agreement. He was the smaller of the two and Neen considered his slowness to get angry a defect—Gax was the duller of the two, according to Neen, certainly not as talkative.

  Neen decided to lumber up and down this section of the river to see if he could notice any signs of others, and Gax sighed, sinking further into his resting pose and wiping his brow with his purple rag.

  Neen walked slowly for a while before pausing. It was odd. “The ground has indentations,” he announced quietly. Someone had been here—but when? He noticed charred wood and debris, but these were not together in one spot. Someone had been trying to conceal their stay here. He did not want to abandon the spot, but, there aren’t any sure signs, either, no tracks that lead beyond this point, he thought. Although he was an experienced tracker, he was perplexed. That was rare for him. He knew well that someone could have traveled through the river, but even then, they only had a half chance of getting it right.