by Guy Estes
Her bow, Nightfall, was four feet tall and had a draw weight that felt like sixty pounds but it was actually six hundred. Her quiver could not be emptied, hence the fact that it held only one arrow. The arrows had a limited ability to obey Baezha's mental commands. They could ignite, alter the shape of their tips, or reduce their penetration to prevent them from injuring an innocent bystander after passing through their target. Their tips were as sharp as Darkthorne and likewise made of necronian steel. If stolen the thief would find it impossible to draw Nightfall’s string back to shoot.
Her armor could become clothing, and it gave Baezha the power of the chameleon, enabling to blend in with her surroundings. Otherwise, it was exactly like Aleena's. If her head was covered, she could be Aleena's twin, though her complexion was a bit lighter. Her liquid eyes were so dark as to be almost black, and her face was smooth and angular.
"Where are you from?" Aleena asked.
"I was born and raised in a town called Aleppo in the mountains just north of the Artisan League, but for the past few years I've been a bit of a nomad."
Aleena was surprised at how quickly she liked Baezha. She normally required time to gradually warm up to people. Given her beauty, intelligence and talent, people generally mistook her for haughty when she was simply cautious, but she was instantly fond of Baezha.
They rested for a little while, then continued on. As they bedded down that night, they discovered that the ogres were not finished with them.
"Can you not wave them away with your spells?" Aleena asked.
"If only it were that simple," Baezha sighed.
It was several hours before they were able to get any sleep, but the local ogre population had been decreased by seven.
“And why would a witch need armor and weapons?” Aleena asked.
“Some creatures are immune to magic. A few can actually feed off of it. Magical armor gives some protection from spells, especially energy based spells. And talismans can ward off both magic and psychic power. When faced with such a foe I need physical weapons.”
"Magic," Baezha explained as they continued their journey the next day, "is not the all-powerful force non-practitioners usually think it is. For one thing, only certain people can employ magical forces. In addition to simple talent and knowledge, one needs the proper physical make-up. If they do not have it, attempts to use magic can result in a truly spectacular self-destruction, or worse.
"Of course, some energies are worse about this than others. For instance, what you see street magicians doing requires very little energy. In fact, much of it isn’t even magic. Healing a cut requires a bit more, though healing magic can only accelerate or strengthen the body’s regenerative abilities. It cannot make a body heal in a manner it ordinarily could not, such as re-growing lost limbs. Other factors in the use of magic are the positions of heavenly bodies and the user's geographical location, another reason why I also bear weapons. Sometimes there are no strings to pluck."
"Strings?"
"Perhaps the best way to think of magical forces is as a multitude of individual harp strings made of power. Each string resonates with different amounts of power. Beginner sorcerers must harmonize themselves with the string. As they get better, sorcerers can make the strings harmonize with them and get the strings to do things they normally couldn’t. Moreover, the strings are of differing amounts of power. Some are good only for a small trick or two. Others are so potent they would instantly obliterate a sorcerer trying to access them. These strings are woven throughout the cosmos, but they are not distributed equally. Some places have none. Others are thick with them. Sometimes there are no strings to strum, or sometimes they aren’t potent enough, or too potent. Consequently, sorcerers tend to carry some source of power with them.
“Most wizards store little energy within themselves. The human body generally isn’t a very efficient vessel. Energy can be stored in virtually anything, though. Rings, amulets, staffs, crowns. Certain gem stones are very good at storing, focusing or magnifying magical energy. Not only can these things store energy, they can help a sorcerer manipulate the strings. Since my weapons are enchanted, they serve that purpose for me. Still, it is my goal to one day find a way to carry a permanent supply of power within me. Being Chosen, my body should store energy very well. That way I would never again be dependent on finding a reserve source. Of course, every witch, wizard, or sorcerer wishes to achieve this goal. None have had any real success.”
“How do you expect to succeed where all others have failed?”
“I’ve a theory or two. My task is daunting, of course, but, at the risk of sounding arrogant, I believe that as the first Chosen witch, my chances of success are better than others’. And speaking of magic, where did you get your weapons?"
Aleena told her, then asked, "And where did you get yours?"
"Oh, that is a long story."
"Well, we have time."
A great roar swept out over them, coming from the open field to their right. Aleena and Baezha looked and beheld two huge ogres perhaps fifty feet away. One had a great sword in his hands, the hide of a saber toothed cat draped upon his back so that its head rested atop his and the giant canine teeth came down over the ogre's temples. The other wore tigers' hides, and he held a great bow, and a quiver of six foot arrows hanging on his hip. They were obviously holders of great status in the ogre community, and they were challenging the two women, undoubtedly the result of all the ogres they had killed over the last couple of days. Aleena felt a sudden blooming of anger within her.
All of this because Anlon is too weak to face himself.
Aleena headed for the one with the sword, while Baezha nocked an arrow even as the ogre archer did the same. He drew and released first. What the ogre was using for arrows qualified as a spear to Baezha, and the great shaft caught her full in the chest. She was knocked off her feet and hit the ground ten feet further on, and she tumbled for another ten feet. The ogres cheered as she lay unmoving on her stomach, but they shut up when she rose, bow still in hand. She nocked and loosed her own arrow. The black shaft streaked across the distance and struck his chest, emerging from his back and sticking in the tree behind him. He nocked his second arrow.
As Aleena closed the distance between her and her adversary, she got a better look at him. His mottled hide ranged in color from lavender to violet, and it was wrinkled like a raisin. His small eyes were red, and pointed teeth snaggled out of his upper and lower jaws, bracketing his black, pebbled lips. He did not appear to be physically capable of smiling. His nose was broad and flat. She wondered where he got his sword. Ogre smiths could make simple knives and tools, but none of them had the talent needed to construct a sword. Aleena drew closer and closer to him. He opened his ugly mouth and took a rumbling breath. In a gravelly voice he said, "You -"
Aleena was on him and swinging. She had had enough of words and posturing. She had no desire to be on this quest at all, much less deal with all of its trials. Her sweeping blade ran a shallow cut across his pelvis. The ogre's knee slammed into her torso and sent her reeling. Then she saw his gigantic blade arcing down towards her. She rolled to her left and the blade, broader than her hand, sank into the ground. She brought Firethorne down upon it, commanding its full power. Her sword hit the enemy blade at a forty-five degree angle. The ogre laughed as he heard her smaller sword clang on his, but when he pulled his sword up, it was noticeably lighter. His laughter turned to a look of utter dismay when he saw that the blade had been shorn off. His wrinkled brow turned down in a scowl and he kicked the small woman on the ground before him. She was launched through the air to hit a boulder, shattering it. The ogre laughed as Aleena was buried in the rubble created by her impact.
An old, familiar feeling blossomed in her chest, then, and rushed through her veins like a torrent of molten steel. The Strength of the dragon, gone for these past years, had returned. Aleena rose to her feet, the rocks rolling off of her armor with rattles and clinks. Fir
ethorne lay on the ground before her nemesis. His laughter stopped as he saw her rise from the fragmented rock, and her eyes briefly gleamed gold, something the ogre had never before seen. She strode towards him, walking right up to her giant foe and slamming the edge of her hand into his right knee. There was a loud crack, and he cried out and fell to his undamaged knee. He swung a fist bigger than Aleena's head at her. Both of her palms intercepted it and brought it to an instant stop. Then her right arm snapped out, and she struck him in his forehead, her arm going in as far as her elbow.
Baezha had seen Aleena's victory, for after dodging her foe's second arrow, she sent one into his heart, followed by four more that rapidly stitched him from throat to brow. No more ogres bothered them after that day.
CHAPTER 23
“In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.” – Albert Schweitzer
“A single rose can be my garden... a single friend, my world.” – Leo Buscaglia
It was the evening of the day they’d fought the last two ogres and Aleena and Baezha were just coming out of the Ophirees and into the Southern Badlands. They got a small fire going at sundown when Baezha spoke.
"I saw you stop that ogre champion's blow with your bare hands and drive your fist right through his skull. How did you do that, Aleena Kurrin? That is the sort of thing myths are made from."
"The Strength of the dragon is no myth."
Baezha looked at her. "Oh?"
Aleena told her the story of how she acquired the Strength.
“How I consumed twenty stone of meat in a single setting without gaining a belt notch I do not know,” she finished.
"The Strength merged with your very soul even as you consumed it,” Baezha concluded, shaking her head slightly. “You continue to surprise me, Sister."
Aleena stopped and faced Baezha, looking into those big, deep eyes that shone like wet obsidian in the firelight. They were the surfaces of a vast and fathomless sea, but Aleena plainly saw the pride Baezha felt from seeing Aleena as her sister. Aleena, too, felt pride, deep and primal. Baezha cocked her head, puzzled. She was very good at reading people, but she could not untangle the snarl of emotions she saw in Aleena.
"What is it?" she asked Aleena.
“The first person to call me sister,” Aleena said, “was Anlon. You saw him and me fight in your visions, but before that we had been on very good terms. I had been taken from my family, lost my friends, imprisoned and enslaved… and then I met the only one of my kind. That was when I discovered I was not alone. It felt good to have him call me sister, and it was good to call him brother.”
“But he could not maintain his façade forever,” Baezha quietly prodded after a long silence.
“No, he couldn’t and I lost my relationship with my brother Chosen. But what was so disturbing was that all the flaws I saw in Anlon I also saw in myself. I am just as proud, just as quick tempered, just as jealous of rivals as he.”
“Perhaps. But I see one crucial difference. You are aware of your flaws and try to correct them. You prune the thorny vines. Anlon denies his, or justifies them, and the result is they are left to grow until they overwhelm him. As for losing your relationship with your brother Chosen… he lied to you, Aleena. The Anlon you knew and loved was not the real Anlon. That Anlon never existed. Therefore, neither did your relationship, and you can’t lose something you never truly had to begin with, can you?”
Aleena straightened slightly as a new comprehension dawned on her, and she felt some weight drop from her spirit.
“And what of you, Sister?” Aleena asked a few moments later, feeling that thrill of warmth as she called Baezha that title. “Do you not share our flaws?”
“The warrior arts are my minor gift, so I share your and Anlon’s sentiments and attitudes, just not as strongly. No,” she said, her gaze going distant into the fire, “my flaws are different. Though perhaps they are worse.”
“What happened?” Aleena quietly asked. Baezha didn’t answer. Her eyes, still locked on the fire, began to fill. This Aleena did not expect.
“Baezha, what is it? What grieves you so?”
Baezha closed her eyes and shook her head. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“No, Sister. I cannot speak of it. Perhaps someday I will, but not today.” She sniffled and wiped her tears away.
“It is obviously a heavy burden. Let me ease it.”
Baezha smiled slightly.
“You have, to some degree.”
Now it was Aleena’s turn to be puzzled.
“When I first saw Anlon in a dream, I was sickened. It felt good for you to call him brother, but for me it was repellant. Do you know what his name means? Great champion.” Baezha snorted and shook her head. “My major gift enabled me to see his nature, and what I saw was certainly no great champion. The tragedy is he could’ve been one, been a credit to his people and the Chosen, but all he champions is himself. But when I saw you the first time, I saw… light. Hope. You gave me hope, something I thought no longer existed. Your name means beautiful light bringer. Your parents named you well. In bringing the darkness of death to the wicked, you give the light of life to the good. I am sickened to think of Anlon as my brother, but I am proud to call the light bringer my sister. Truly proud.”
“And I am proud to be your sister,” Aleena said, her voice quiet with gratitude and not at all sure why such honor was heaped upon her. “But tell me, what does your name mean?”
Baezha smiled a half smile.
“Beautiful strange one. I’ve been told often enough I am beautiful, and more often have I been told how strange I am. Yes, many people have made it quite clear that I am indeed strange.”
“But how can someone you hadn’t even met give you hope?”
“Just as I saw Anlon’s nature in my divinations, so did I see yours.”
Aleena suddenly recalled something.”
“You said you started having visions of Anlon and I three years ago. Why are you only now seeking us out?”
Baezha sighed. “As far as Anlon goes, I was procrastinating. I had no wish to meet him, and I was hoping you would take care of him and that would be that. I finally faced the fact that if I had any consideration for you, my Chosen sister, I would not let you face this task alone. As for why I waited so long before seeking you… I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Of being wrong. What if I wasn’t seeing your true nature? What if I was only seeing what I wanted to see? What if I was only seeing what I desperately wished to be there, but it turned out you were the same as Anlon, or even worse? What if the last thing in this world that gave me any hope was false? I wasn’t strong enough to face that.”
“What changed your mind?”
“In my visions I saw what both you and Anlon did. I saw his acts of denial, manipulation and justification. I have seen his conquest of other tribes. I never once saw you victimize innocent people. I remembered that I’d seen your fight with Anlon in the arena. You tried to spare him. Even as he was trying to kill his Chosen sister, you were trying to save your Chosen brother. He was again championing only himself, while you were championing something bigger than yourself. You were trying to preserve your Chosen family. Your actions made it plain that what I saw was indeed your true nature. My hope was not misplaced.”
“And why were you in such need of hope?”
Baezha sighed again as she stared into the fire.
“I had lost everything. My family, my home, my whole world was lost in a single night of madness.” She began to weep again. “Do not press me further, Aleena. Perhaps I will be able to tell you about it, but not tonight.”
She heaved a shuddering sigh.
“Not tonight,” she sobbed. Aleena went around the fire and sat next to Baezha and held her. Baezha grabbed onto Aleena like a drowning
woman grabbing a log and wept, long and bitterly.
* * *
They slogged through the sand with the mountains behind them. Before long they found themselves in the center of a bowl composed of craggy brown stone. There was a broken brown rocky slope looming up on their right.
"How far do you suppose Anlon's stronghold is from here?" Baezha asked.
Aleena shrugged. "With your arcane arts, I was hoping you could tell me."
An arrow splintered on the rocks a foot away from Aleena's head. Both women instantly exploded into motion out of sheer reflex. More arrows clattered off the stones where they used to be. Baezha nocked an arrow as Aleena drew Firethorne, even though her sword could not reach their enemies. Baezha sighted a man in the cleft in the rocks and loosed. Her black arrow whistled through him and embedded itself in the stone beyond. Her victim tumbled down from his hiding place and flopped into the sand a few yards away. He was a sinewy, well-muscled man clad only in a loincloth. His skin bore a reddish hue that differed from the typical desert natives. He was totally bald except for a ponytail of long, silky black hair that sprouted from his crown. His weapons were a small knife and hatchet, both with copper blades, and a crude bow.
"Bachli Armahn," Aleena commented.
"What?"
"That is the tribe he belongs to. They always attack in large parties, so it is sure that we are surrounded."
"A warlike people, I take it?"
"Their language has no word for surrender."
"How marvelous."