The Last Faoii

by Tahani Nelson

  Kaiya spun, catching the nearest young woman with a double-fisted blow to the stomach. She doubled over, and Kaiya caught her around the waist, lifting and throwing her bodily across the table. The terrified girl collided heavily with one of the women that was trying to climb over the wood. They both crashed to the ground.

  Another woman, wearing a sturdy leather jerkin, lunged toward Kaiya’s stomach with a short dagger in each hand. Kaiya crouched low, grasping her shield with one hand. She yanked it upward with a single clean jerk, brushing the daggers out of the woman’s grasp. They clattered to the floor. With another swift movement, Kaiya shoved the shield into the now-weaponless attacker, and she fell into the arms of those behind her.

  Kaiya ducked as a platter was launched at her head. Crouching, she braced her shield against the floor. Then, leaping upward, she kicked a girl behind her in the chin as she somersaulted over the bronze dome, catching another woman in the shoulder with a booted foot. Using the momentum of her now-bowed back, Kaiya pulled the shield up after her and brought it crashing down across two other women’s outstretched arms.

  Kaiya spun again and again, lashing out with arms, elbows, knees, feet, and shield, but never once did she raise her fantoii. Her battle cries filled the hall, and the women around her fell, bloodied and broken, but alive.

  At last only Kaiya stood among the trembling bodies of defeated girls. She studied them with a knowing eye.

  “You are all very brave. But being Faoii is not simply showing courage or even knowing how to hold a knife. A Faoii is more than a girl in armor, more than a warrior with a battle cry. Faoii-Lyn has taught you well to believe in yourselves, and that’s a good first step. But you can be better than what you are. You can be true Faoii.” She circled around, looking at each woman in turn, her eyes sharp and her hands steady. They stared back at her in awe—even those that were on the flat of their backs beneath her. At last she met Faoii-Lyn’s eyes, and the dark orbs were strong with pride and defiance. Kaiya’s voice rose in pitch.

  “We are better than any regular fighter. We are more than a group of women hiding behind the strength of husbands and brothers. We are Faoii. We are the harbingers of justice and truth. We are the strength of the weak and the voice of the silent.”

  Lyn’s eyes shone as she stood, and her voice matched Kaiya’s. “My blade is my arm, and as such is the arm of all people. Wherever I am, there will a weapon against injustice always be. And with this weapon, I will protect the weak and purge all evil in the land.”

  Kim and Mae stood as well, and their voices joined the chorus. “I will be ready to perform my duty for the weak at all times. And through this, I shall remember that all things are sacred and all souls worthwhile.” Others joined, and the women on the floor began to rise. “But my blade will be held above all, for it protects all, and shall be a part of me. For I am Faoii. My tongue will never forget the words of truth, for when I speak, then will the Goddess hear, and I am only Faoii in Her presence.”

  Those that were not fisting their hands one above the other were making the inverted triangle sign of Illindria, their eyes shining and their voices rising. “We are the Weavers of the Tap- estry. We see the threads through all the world and guide them with the Goddess’s eye. Above all, we are Faoii. Our blades will sing with the voice of every throat that has cried out against injustice and dance with the steps of every innocent child. We will lead the choir, and the voices of our swords will deafen the ears of our enemies.” The final statement was a battle cry all its own: “For we are Faoii!”

  The energy of the room exploded outward, shaking the table and the wooden plates. Tears flowed readily, and those that had fought against Kaiya kneeled at her feet, begging for forgiveness. Kaiya rested her hands on their shoulders and cheeks as she forgave her would-be attackers, using what she’d learned from Faoii-Eili to will the power of the Cleroii through her palms. The bruises she had caused began to heal.

  When Kaiya finally approached the table again, Faoii-Lyn had stepped down from her place at its head. She smiled as Kaiya passed her. “I thought you were just going to challenge me. That was way more fun.” Tendaji and Emery took their places at the table, unmolested. Then, with the dignity and grace that became a Faoii leader, Kaiya took her place in the high-backed seat. The entire room stared at her with a sense of unity that they had not realized they were missing. Kaiya smiled, nodding to herself.

  We are Faoii indeed.

  19

  The Faoii enclave was bursting with activity. Every day, Kaiya, Lyn, Tendaji, and Emery pushed the newest Faoii Order to a higher standard. Those that were not in mock battles or dedicating themselves to prayer were forging their own blades and crafting their own leather armor. It was hard work, and months passed with frustrated tears and disappointment as blades failed inspection and women’s arms faltered in fatigue, but there was never any sense of despair. The women, under Kaiya’s steady and relentless gaze, did not accept failure. For they were Faoii now, and failure was no longer an option.

  The women who worked the streets continued to seek empty eyes and hearts, but now with a different purpose. They had something real with which to fill that void: hope. Salvation. The ranks in the enclave grew. Soon the two warehouses were filled beyond capacity, and an adjacent warehouse (previously owned by a trader who was only too eager to sell it to a group of terrifying women with glistening blades) was turned into a barracks.

  This new warehouse had the added bonus of a cellar that, after some renovations, gave access to the sewers, and thus access to most of the town without the women ever having to use a door. Even with the added space and bunks, however, sleep could only be achieved in shifts. Night and day, there were continual battle dances, constant prayers, and the steady, never-ceasing clang of hammers on anvils.

  Even men came to join the army, seeking a world and a strength that had been stripped away by the Croeli. The Goddess was never mentioned outside the enclave’s walls, but Her presence was still hidden there, under the fog. And the people felt it, longed for it, and followed its pull. All found themselves at the enclave.

  Through the months of torturous preparation for a war that everyone felt was coming but few talked about, Kaiya was always there. There was never a new batch of recruits that did not watch her steady fantoii dance through the air as she showed them the basic steps of sword fighting. There was never an Oath that did not carry her voice in it, or a lost and uncertain girl that could not look up and see her glinting breastplate as a source of inspiration. The final laces of a leather jerkin were never tied without her scanning the detail work, nor was a newly finished sword ever sheathed without her arm first testing its edge.

  Kaiya was like Illindria Herself—everywhere at once and never faltering. She would disappear for possibly a half hour at a time to collapse onto the solitary cot that the soldiers had set aside for her, but she was always back among the others almost immediately.

  Weeks passed in this manner, and while everyone looked to Kaiya for guidance and strength (there was no longer any doubt that she was the leader here), there was no denying that she could not have done it on her own. The silky-haired Lyn was always nearby, pairing soldiers (men and women alike now) to others that complemented them. Her eye was keen, and the ranks grew stronger as soldiers fought back-to-back, dancing their graceful circles of deadly beauty, their songs rising through the air like silver motes.

  Tendaji taught those that were not suited for sword fighting how to ease through shadows like water through sand, training their innocent eyes to aim for the liver or kidneys with precise, deadly strikes. On the few occasions that Kaiya slipped away from the crowded warehouse in order to travel the streets (they seemed so calm despite the growing energy that engulfed the cobblestones), she could almost feel Tendaji’s pupils following her on the rooftops, oozing their way between beams of moonlight. While she could not prove it, she wondered if these tests were not Tendaji’s way of protecting her—as though she needed protection!�
��as well as a way of testing the pupils’ newfound abilities. They moved like true Croeli infiltrators in the darkness. She never saw them, and never knew whether they noticed her quiet smile at his success.

  As it turned out, Emery was a master bowman. Fletching and bow making were quickly added to the already overflowing roster of daily tasks. Kaiya, who had never learned the skill personally, worked tirelessly to perfect her techniques. If there was ever a spare minute that did not require her presence with another soldier, she could be found practicing her skills in their makeshift archery range.

  Meanwhile, Lyn’s scouts scurried across the landscape, seeking word of opposing soldiers. The Croeli’s ethereal army was terrifying. Reports of enemy soldiers would come from the south, near the Danhaid Tribes, then from the remains of the Ivy Helm Monastery far to the west a week later. Tendaji said the Croeli had called the phenomenon “Blinking,” and though Lyn made fun of “Croeli lack of originality” on several occasions, the term stuck. Reports continued to pile in as the Croeli army Blinked across the landscape in a dizzying, terrifying frenzy. No one could accurately report their numbers or locations, much to Lyn’s constant ire.

  “The information is coming from everywhere, but we can’t even tell whether my girls are reporting the same battalion over and over again or if there really are three dozen armies all told.” Lyn sawed at the slab of meat that could possibly pass for a steak, stabbing at the individual pieces irritably. “The reports are all similar, but there’s no way to determine whether they’re the same soldiers. If only the bastards would stop jumping around the country like some sort of deranged bullfrog.” Exasperated, Lyn threw down her eating utensils and leaned back in her chair. “And now the girls have been stumbling across tonicloran, too.” Tendaji tensed.

  “Tonicloran? Where?”

  “That’s the thing! Everywhere. In towns, in fields, in village carts. When the girls asked, people seemed genuinely unaware that the most dangerous toxin known to man was so close at hand. Most of them weren’t even aware that they were transporting it. They had just been paid to move goods, and they did.” She shook her head. “I guess some people will take any job they can if money’s scarce enough.”

  Kaiya looked around at the half-dressed women of the enclave, but didn’t mention the irony of Lyn’s statement. “If they’re transporting it,” she said instead, “they must know who it’s going to.”

  “They don’t, though. They drop the seeds off with other farmers, in random fields, in dirt patches near the road. They just . . . scatter tonicloran and they’re not even aware of what they’re doing.” She cracked her knuckles impulsively. “It’s in the fields, too. Growing wild. Look.” She threw a sprig onto the table. Emery and Tendaji drew away from it almost on reflex, but Kaiya leaned forward, studying it through narrowed eyes.

  “It looks like the chinol sprig on the Goddess statue back home.” She reached out to pick up the innocent-looking plant, but Tendaji stopped her with a quick jerk of her arm. Kaiya put her hand back in her lap and refocused on Lyn.

  The other Faoii snarled at the broad, flat leaves resting on the table. “We’re damned lucky no one cut their finger on a thorn or something and died before making it home. Most of the girls didn’t even know what it was. But it’s growing in the places that the Croeli armies go repeatedly. Or at least, I think they go there repeatedly. It might be a dozen different groups jumping there one after the other.” She slammed her fist on the table, frustrated. “Blades, I wish we knew how they did that!”

  She cast an annoyed glance at Tendaji, who spread his hands. “I wish I had that information. I am sorry.” Lyn released a frustrated sigh.

  Tendaji turned his attention to the plant, his eyes calculating. “For what it’s worth, I doubt that Thinir’s army is using tonicloran. There are no reports of melting skin or blisters or cauterized wounds from his soldiers’ criukli. It is . . . troublesome that it is growing wild, though. That is not safe for anyone.”

  “Didn’t the Preoii forbid tonicloran ages ago?” Lyn asked heatedly. “I thought they destroyed all of that rubbish after too many people died trying to use it for ‘enlightenment’ or some such nonsense. Why is it showing up now?”

  Tendaji frowned. “I don’t know. But whoever is spreading it cannot have good intentions.” As he spoke, Kaiya’s mind worked to drudge up a conversation from long ago, nearly forgotten among things she’d once considered more important than her studies. She jolted out of her reverie when Tendaji nudged her shoulder. “Are you okay, Kai?”

  “Yeah. Sorry. Just thinking. Cleroii-Belle once said that tonicloran was not made for this world, but for the one we reach after death. Part of the Goddess’s world. If . . .” She paused, trying to put her thoughts into words. “If the Croeli are jumping from place to place, they have to be traveling through somewhere. Maybe that’s where they go. Illindria can see everything. Her world connects to every part of ours. If they are finding a way to Her side, they could reappear anywhere they wanted to. Maybe they’re bringing the tonicloran back with them and don’t realize it.”

  Lyn’s almond-shaped eyes narrowed. “Well, that’s crazy.” She turned to Emery. “Why are the beautiful ones always crazy?”

  Tendaji shot her a warning glance before turning back to his sister. “Kai, even if what you’re saying was possible, there is no way that Thinir and his men are accessing the Tapestry. No deity would allow such a transgression.”

  Kaiya refrained from biting her lip. “I know, I know. I was just rambling. But if it were possible . . . you said that those who Blink come back . . . different. Without light behind their eyes.

  "Would you be able to look at the Eternal Tapestry and come back completely whole?”

  The table fell quiet for a moment before Lyn at last stood up with unnecessary force. “You’re all imbeciles. Burn that thing and let’s get moving. We’ve got shield instruction in five.” She stalked away from them, still muttering under her breath. Kaiya watched as Tendaji set a candle to the tonicloran stalk. Its broad leaves wilted as Kaiya stood to leave as well.

  20

  The months of training hardened Kaiya. Her already feline legs and arms were like carved ebony now. So dedicated was she to each of those that swore

  themselves to the Goddess and her fantoii that she felt neither weariness nor hunger. Instead, there was only the burning desire to give these people the world they deserved—one where they could make decisions for themselves without fear of Croeli slithering through the shadows.

  It was Tendaji that finally posed a question one night, crouching next to Kaiya as she pounded dutifully on a newly tempered sword. “When was the last time you slept? Or ate?” Kaiya’s blows faltered for a moment as she realized that she did not know. Her brother released the slightest chuckle.

  “Pretty little Kai. What good will you be to us if you do not take care of your most basic needs?” Kaiya did not respond, and Tendaji offered his hand to her, pulling her to her feet. As though her realization had made it true, Kaiya’s head swam, and the world tilted. With a graceful step to one side, Tendaji positioned himself between his sister and the ever-working soldiers, giving her the time she needed to steady herself.

  Kaiya forced her limbs to still as she made her way to the only private chamber in the enclave. She had originally been against the idea of wasting space on her own bedroom, but Tendaji had dissuaded her from bunking with the other soldiers.

  “If you want to keep up your appearance as a leader, you must always remind the soldiers that you are above them in rank. Letting your men—or women—see you sleep is giving them an opportunity to see your weakness. No one must see you as merely human.” He paused, considering. “Also, you drool in your sleep. It’s hardly flattering.”

  Kaiya had understood his words at the time and had accepted them, though the drool comment had elicited an annoyed glare from her and a far-too-innocent look from him. Now she was grateful for solitude as she leaned her head against the wall of her
sparsely decorated quarters. Tendaji helped her unlace the leather straps of her breastplate.

  “When is the third quadrant due for their disarm examination?” she asked without lifting her head.

  “Nine hours. I will make sure you’re awake before then.” Kaiya smiled at the wall. “I know I don’t say this often enough, but thank you, Tendaji.”

  Tendaji didn’t respond as he removed her breastplate and pointed her to the bed. He smiled when he met her gaze. “I was never there for you when you were growing up. You did not need me then and you don’t need me now. But I’m glad you let me stay, anyway.”

  Kaiya started to reply, but he shook his head and turned toward the door. Then he was gone and the room was quiet.

  Kaiya tried to convince herself to stand so that she could remove her leather armor, but the night had already enveloped her. A soft breeze blew in from the tiny slit of a window that the sparse room offered, and as Kaiya’s eyes fluttered closed, she could just barely see the moon peeking out from behind the building across the street. She was tired enough that her eyes were evidently playing tricks on her, because it seemed like the shadows on the roof were actually moving to hide behind the looming chimney. The silliness of this thought carried Kaiya into a peaceful slumber.