Battle for Tristaine

by Cate Culpepper

  “That’s Vicar’s adonai, Wai Li,” Jess murmured behind her. “She’s taking their son to the meadows.”

  Brenna felt sadness drape her shoulders. The expression on the women’s faces was indescribable. She turned so she wouldn’t see the mother and child walk away, or Vicar’s eyes as she watched them go. She laid a cold hand on Jess’s arm, suddenly needing to feel its solid warmth.

  “Go on,” she whispered to Jess.

  Jess nodded and walked over to Vicar. Her broad shoulder brushed that of her cousin, and they stood together for a while in silence.

  Brenna pressed her hand to her waist. It was rising all around them, the grief of parting, permeating the air as visibly as smog clouded the skies above the City. Everywhere she looked now she saw families sharing a last embrace, and her eyes filled with tears.

  Kyla took Brenna’s hand and cradled it in her own cold ones. “I don’t see how they stand it. Saying good-bye to this place forever. And the wives of the warriors, they might never see their adonai again…”

  Camryn looked pale beneath her tan. “They can sleep well, though, Ky, knowing we’ll never surrender Tristaine to the City.”

  “Oh, fat bloody lot of comfort that would be for me today, Cam, if I was leaving you here!” Kyla swiped the back of her hand across her eyes. “I can’t believe you asked Shann to make me go, Camryn. I’m still pissed at you for that.”

  “Thank you,” Brenna said to Kyla, vindicated. “Jess tried to kick me out, too.”

  “Figures.”

  “But you’ve been injured, Ky,” Cam protested. “You’re not going to be able to fight with us. If Dyan were here, she’d make you go, with that pig bite on your—”

  “Oh, Titan’s tits she would, Camryn!” Kyla sighed gustily and looked at Brenna. “Warriors.”

  Brenna nodded.

  “Pardon me, little sisters.” Dorothea was making her way toward them through the crowd, clutching a beautiful shawl of pure blue silk around her shoulders. She lifted her gnarled hand when Kyla rose from her stool. “Sit down, sit down, little one. Rest your leg! I’ve just come to give you your elders’ blessing before we go.”

  “We’re honored, Grandmother.” Kyla hugged Dorothea with a gentleness that was almost maternal. “Please kiss Jocelyn and Sarah good-bye for us, okay?”

  “I’ll kiss Jocelyn. Sarah, I will shake by her warty old paw.” Dorothea motioned Camryn’s head down so she could kiss her cheek. “Now. Young Brenna? Help me find our lady.”

  “Okay,” Brenna said. Dorothea was already winding her shawled arm through hers and starting into the throng. The sturdy maple cane she carried served her well, and Brenna didn’t have to slow her step to walk beside her.

  “Watch over Kyla and Camryn, my little sister. Guard them well.” Dorothea studied Brenna as they walked. “Remember, all Amazons are mothers to the young of our clan.”

  “I will. We all will.” Brenna led Dorothea around a horse and cart being loaded for the journey. “What’s going to happen to Tristaine’s mothers, if we can’t come back to this valley? Aren’t most of the men who sire our children City dwellers?”

  “Most,” Dorothea confirmed, striding sturdily along. She waved her cane at two women who called greetings. “Most fathers of Amazon children are sons of Amazons themselves. But all our brothers don’t reside in the City. There are smaller towns on the other side of this range that house several of our male kin. And other nomad tribes, of both men and women, wander these hills.” Dorothea winked at her. “Amazons have never wanted for quality seed, Brenna. Our Nation may indeed perish one day, through war or other calamity, but never through lack of reproductive opportunity.”

  “That’s good to know.” Brenna smiled, then eyed Dorothea with concern. “Will you be comfortable on this migration? You’ve got a strong gait and great balance, but I worry about your arth—”

  “Oh, weeping Cyrene.” Dorothea’s lilting laugh cut her off. “I’ll be fine, little one, riding in a lavishly cushioned wagon. Now, you have five more minutes with an elder of Tristaine, Brenna, before her august wisdom vanishes forever into the mists of the southern meadows! Do you really want to spend them fretting over sources of semen and my creaky joints?”

  Brenna grinned, liking the warmth of the other woman’s arm in her own. Liking her. “I wish you could stay, Dorothea. I bet you could tell me some wonderful clan stories.”

  “I could tell you some wonderful clan gossip.” Dorothea chuckled. “But as our time is short, daughter, I’ll try to hold myself to two brief sermons.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “First, I speak for Tristaine’s elders in blessing the bond you’ve made with Jesstin. She’s very dear to us, Brenna, and we know she’s chosen well.”

  “Thank you.” That cavalcade of emotions was swamping Brenna again, and she hadn’t even had her morning coffee yet. “I’m really—thank you.”

  “And last, listen to Shanendra, and trust your instincts, girl.” The spotted hand patted her again. “You don’t have the luxury of self-doubt, young Brenna, or foolish modesty. Banish them both and embrace your legacy if you’re to serve Tristaine.”

  Brenna’s head was starting to pound again. This was getting a little heavy. “Dorothea, I know Shann thinks I’ve got some kind of psychic ability, but honestly, what I have is bad dreams.”

  “If that’s all they are, this sad world may finally have seen the last of the Amazons.”

  Brenna stopped short.

  Dorothea’s voice was still mild. She stood gazing at the crowd around them, as if memorizing faces. “The greatest Amazon queens have always come to power in times of our greatest need, Brenna. We’re in one of those times now. If our queen can’t rely on your guidance—the guidance of the first seer Tristaine has bred in generations—our clan might well die out at last.”

  “Sweet Gaia,” Brenna murmured, the first time those words passed her lips. “Dorothea, hey, please, don’t put that on me. I’m not a seer. I’m really not. I’m a medic, and a good one, and I want to serve Tristaine and Shann with everything I have, but—”

  “Poor little sister.” Dorothea cupped Brenna’s cheek. “I’ve thrown you for quite a loop. Here, take this. You look cold.” She swept the colorful shawl off her shoulders and reached up to wrap it around Brenna’s.

  “Oh, Dorothea, thank you, but you need—”

  “You can only offer your clan what is yours to give, little sister. All I have to give you is this.” She smiled. “If Artemis is kind, all we can give will be enough. Ah, here’s our lady!”

  Shann, a walking emblem of grace under pressure, was moving smoothly through the continuous volley of summons and questions that flew at her from all sides. Her step was unhurried, and she answered each call with a single, calm instruction before nodding to hear the next. Shann spotted them, gave a quick wave to ask for a moment’s peace, and then took Dorothea’s hands.

  “Good morning, Grandmother! Brenna, how did you sleep?”

  “We both slept better than Tristaine’s queen did, Shanendra.” The small lines etching Dorothea’s mouth deepened with her frown. “You’re going to ruin that nice, clear complexion if you don’t get enough roughage, lady, and at least eight hours’ rest every night.”

  “Then I shall pass a law mandating two-hour naps and adequate roughage for everyone.” Shann did look like she hadn’t slept since addressing the village last night, but she was still cloaked in an aura that Brenna could only call regal. “Brenna, I’ve called a meeting of our high council tonight after the migration. I’d like you to join us.”

  “Me?” She felt Dorothea’s gaze on her. “Sure, Shann, of course.”

  “How can I serve you, adanin?” Shann stepped closer to Dorothea, and her expression softened. “I know we have to say good-bye soon.”

  “That’s why I’ve come, lady. To ask for the Queen’s Blessing.”

  “Oh, Dorothea,” Shann exclaimed, stricken. “Are you sure?”

  “Very.” Th
e old woman nodded. “I haven’t told Jocelyn yet, but I will soon. The timing is rotten, but my loom is packed. I’m ready. I’ll miss you, little one.”

  “And I you, Grandmother.” Tears rose in Shann’s eyes, and she laid the palm of her right hand gently at the base of Dorothea’s throat. Brenna watched quietly as a subtle curtain of privacy lowered around the queen and her elder.

  “The Queen’s Blessing on your journey, Dorothea. You’ve served your clan well, and you leave Tristaine much richer for your wisdom. Your daughters will remember you around storyfires for generations to come. You’ll find our Mothers waiting to welcome you with a warm fire in the hearth.” Tears spilled down Shann’s cheek, but her smile carried a profound tenderness. “Dorothea, daughter of Marthe, walk with Beatrice. She’ll lead you home. We’ll see you again there.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart. That was just lovely.” Dorothea beamed up at Shann, then touched her lips to her cheek. “Walk with Killian, Shanendra. Brenna? Walk with Julia.”

  Brenna watched Dorothea move purposely through the crowd, and she turned to Shann, at a loss. “What just happened?”

  Shann cradled Brenna’s hand in her own. “Dorothea senses she’s going to die soon, Brenna. The Queen’s Blessing is given to Amazons who are certain they’re facing death.”

  Brenna felt a sinking in her gut. “Dying? Shann, she seems so healthy—”

  “Dorothea is almost a hundred years old, little sister.”

  Brenna’s mouth fell open. Then she closed it. Explanations about Amazons and their bizarre metabolisms and elongated lifespans would have to wait. She realized she was still wearing the blue silk shawl that Dorothea had given her. She moved her shoulders beneath its softness, a hollow ache of loss in her chest.

  “Shann, I’m so sorry. You’re close to Dorothea.”

  “Yes, I am.” Shann slipped her arm around Brenna and led her toward the caravan forming in the square. “Tristaine has given birth to some extraordinary women, Brenna, and it’s been my blessing to know many of them.”

  “I’ve already met a few of those.” Brenna put her arm around Shann’s waist. “Extraordinary women.”

  “Shann, a moment?” An Amazon draped in soft doeskin loped toward them. “The first wave is set, lady, but now there’s some row among the warriors.”

  “Mercy, imagine that,” Shann muttered to Brenna. “We’re coming, Siirah, thank you.”

  It seemed most of the population of Tristaine had gathered in the village square, either to join the caravan or see it off. Brenna followed Shann around the end of the column and saw several women in leather leggings poised on the brink of an all-out clash.

  Brenna wasn’t sure how she knew that, because no one was waving weapons. But the menacing quiet that gripped the circle of warriors seemed more ominous than shouted curses. She looked around quickly for Jess.

  Two warriors faced each other in the middle of the loosely formed ring.

  “You sure about this, little girl?” The brawny woman on the left smiled.

  “I’m right here, pendeja.” The second Amazon, a young Latina, balanced lightly on the soles of her feet and made small beckoning motions with two fingers. “Bring your City-spawned ass to Elodia.”

  “Perry, Elodia, stand down!” To Brenna’s relief, Myrine hustled between the two women, her face flushed. “Dyan would throttle you both! Theryn and Shann will settle this tonight—”

  “We can settle it here and now, ‘Rine.” Perry’s smile carried a grimness that worried Brenna. “Let’s keep it between us warriors. If this young half-breed really thinks she can claim that title.”

  Shann was already moving when Jess walked into the circle, and at the same moment, the two women charged each other.

  Myrine grappled with them for a moment, and then Jess grabbed Perry’s collar and yanked her free of the struggle. She tossed the larger woman to the ground, where she fell to all fours, her muddy eyes glittering.

  The young Latina shook off Myrine’s restraint and charged again. Jess tripped her neatly, then stepped between the two sprawled combatants.

  “Jesstin, this bruja sneers at Dyan’s memory!” Tears sparkled in Elodia’s dark eyes as she sat up.

  “Raise your hand in anger to another Amazon again, either of you, and you’ll clean the stables alone for a week.” Jess’s voice silenced the circle. “Any warrior who makes another reference to half-breeds, or mongrels, or City spawn will face me in the arena, one on one.”

  Brenna swallowed. Neither of the prone Amazons seemed inclined to challenge Jess. The brawny woman glared at the ground, and the girl held her tongue. Camryn shouldered her way between two of the onlookers and helped Elodia up.

  Jess rested her hands on her hips and looked toward Shann. The cobalt coolness in her eyes couldn’t be more distant from the warmth they carried when she and Brenna were alone. Jess lifted her chin, and Shann nodded slightly.

  “No need to make anything heavy out of this, Jesstin.” Patana pushed into the circle, and she and Myrine helped Perry to her feet. “It’s just a disagreement among sisters. Shann and Theryn can discuss it at the high council meeting.”

  “Shann has better things to do than settle personal clashes, Patana,” Jess said. “This ends today.”

  The activity in the square had quieted, and several women drifted closer to the confrontation. Brenna felt the tension like a mild current, lifting the fine hairs on her forearms.

  Jess addressed the circle of warriors. “Shann’s high council meets tonight, so I want a double watch around our perimeter. We muster tomorrow at dawn. Clear?”

  “Clear, Jesstin,” Camryn called, and she was echoed by several others.

  Jess ticked off points on her fingers. “Now, we check the gear of the packhorses of the first wave and make certain our sisters are well armed for their journey. We see them safely to the pass. And we patrol the expanded borders. Questions?”

  “Can’t ye order us to warm the blankets of our women, Stumpy, between watches?” Vicar called. “To stoke our battle lust?”

  “So ordered.” Jess grinned at her cousin, and only then did a gust of relieved snickering move through the warriors. “Make a last check of weapons in the packs, adanin. Hakan, prepare to escort the first wave.”

  Hakan lifted a hand in acknowledgement, and Valkyrie backed up a few steps to put her in position at the head of the column. Noise began to rise around them again, and Brenna willed her shoulders to relax.

  Myrine went to Jess and laid her hand on her arm, but before she could speak, Patana called a gruff summons.

  “’Rine, Theryn wants us. Now.”

  Jess spoke to Myrine, who shook her head. Her hand slid off Jess’s arm, and she followed Patana to the caravan.

  “Jesstin’s grown, Brenna.” Shann’s voice held a note of pride. “Grown, and deepened. Sweet Mothers, how I wish Dyan could see her. Do what you can to protect her from bitterness, little sister.”

  Jess reached them before Brenna could form a reply, and Camryn and the Latina warrior were close behind her.

  “Shann, Jesstin, may Elodia have a word?”

  “Of course, Camryn.” Shann took Elodia’s hand. “Sister, tell me your thoughts.”

  “Shann, lady, you don’t know what’s gone on since you left.” Tears were coursing freely down Elodia’s thin face. “Our warriors drew lots to see who would stay here and who would escort those leaving with the migration. The drawing was fixed, lady. It had to be. Half the warriors staying are loyal to Theryn!”

  “Tristaine’s warriors’ guild has a hundred and fifty Amazons, Shann.” Camryn looked to Jess for confirmation. “Theryn’s got twenty or thirty in her party, tops, right? What are the chances that all of them made the cut?”

  “Slim.” Shann’s eyes found Jess.

  “The draw was fixed to favor Theryn’s cult.” Elodia scowled at Brenna. “And most of them came up from the City in the last five years, Shann.”

  “Your queen was born in the City too,
adanin,” Shann reminded her. “Most of our mothers were. Now listen well.” She paused, but they were already attentive. “We can’t win this fight divided, sisters. Internal strife has wiped out more Amazon clans than ever rode the forests. It can’t happen here, not again. We must be unified if our clan is to survive. Am I clear?”

  “Clear, Shann,” Jess answered.

  “Elodia, thank you for bringing this to our notice.” Shann took her shoulders in her hands. “I’ll ask for your trust in letting me deal with it.”

  “You have that, lady.” Elodia nodded to Camryn before trotting back to her sisters.

  A piercing whistle sliced the chill morning air. Hakan wheeled her mount and addressed the milling column of women and children. “Amazons, ready the line!”

  Two warriors jogged to the high fence encircling the village square. They unlashed the catch of the tall central gates and pushed them open. Behind them, the column was forming: Amazons gathering children, picking up litters, mounting horses, and climbing onto wagons.

  Dozens of Tristaine’s hardy mountain mustangs milled in the square now, most laden with provisions. Others carried oak trunks containing Tristaine’s artifacts, its scrolls and history. These chests would be protected as carefully as human life.

  “Lady?” Hakan called.

  “This part always makes me feel like holy Moses on the mount,” Shann murmured to Brenna.

  Jess escorted Shann to a raised platform at one side of the gates, and Shann ascended the stairs. She turned and looked out over the long caravan as Hakan’s whistle sounded again.

  Brenna heard music, the chorus of Jade’s guild, singing as the column began to move. Their song was wordless, and it contained a solemn note of ritual. Jess was right, she thought. This is a chorus capable of invoking angels. They sang a dirge of farewell, sad enough to inspire tears, but it also rang with hope. It was an anthem of migration, a song of passage for an Amazon clan long accustomed to exile.

  Shann looked less a queen right now than a mother, watching her children leave home. Her expression was the anthem made human. But her stance was relaxed, and so were the encouraging calls she made to the women who hailed her as they filed past. Laughter began to break out in small pockets in the procession.