by Serena Whynd
“Now we can slow down. We will no longer see those creatures,” she said, comforting Jacqueline while examining the torn flesh on her hand. The look of Jacqueline’s injury was very much a concern for Shalmar. The young Amazon required superior medical treatment than what Shalmar could provide. And she needed it quickly. Here in the swamp, she was liable to pick up some kind of infection or disease.
Lowering their guard was also out of the question, as swamp snakes and giant lizards could surprise them at any time. Grall Swamp was named after the birds who inhabited it during certain parts of the year, and whose meat was a favourite dish on the Continent. But the water was equally famous for wild animals that no one had any desire to meet, yet alone eat.
The water itself had a certain uniqueness. An observer could find it unsettling yet beautiful at the same time. One could clearly see this disparity even from a distance. Parts with high, thick and stable marsh grasses had a greenish colour, which sometimes turned to brown, depending on the amount of sludge that was raised from the bottom. On the other hand, cleaner parts were almost unnaturally blue and bright. It was hard to find such vibrant wetlands anywhere else.
The marsh stretched for miles towards the southeast, straight to Midbay, where Prymor City, port of Gilsk, was located. Midbay was their destination.
After a few minutes of rest, they moved on. Shalmar permitted a slower pace in the beginning, but soon made an effort to quicken her pace. Moving further along was becoming increasingly difficult: the swamp was thicker, and their progress was slower. They had experienced a particular feeling of joy at having escaped from the hairy savages, but that satisfaction was soon replaced by concern for other dangers that had accumulated.
Although they did not discuss it, they were both spinning similar thoughts. First, there would be the knowledge of the existence of an intruder in the palace, and the lack of information about who it might be. The long way they would have to travel to return to the capital. Then the question of how the Gondorians would respond to the state of their statuette after the accident at Cursed Mountain...
But Shalmar’s mind was most preoccupied with what had occurred the moment that Tarlaeth broke. The flash of light that blinded them and the incredible impact of energy that caused them all to pass out intrigued her. It was now clear that the history of the statuette was a lot more interesting than they had initially thought. The story that had been passed down involved ancient Mages, characters from old and almost forgotten legends. Given that their world had not known any weapon or device that could produce such a brilliant appearance, there was no doubt that this was some kind of magic. Only the mages could perform magic, and no magic, as far as they knew, had been performed on the Continent since the mages’ departure in ancient times.
The Warriors also shared a fear of the potential consequences if the Mages returned. Shalmar’s headache had disappeared entirely in the middle of the chase to the swamp. Any discomfort other than extreme exhaustion, she did not feel. It made no sense to ask Jacqueline if she felt any differences that might be caused by the unexplainable event. She too was exhausted from running in poor conditions, and she had sustained injuries in the battle. As time passed, it was more than evident that the wounded Amazon was progressively worsening, her body tilting towards the water as she walked. She was having difficulty keeping her eyes open, especially when night began to fall.
As darkness began to set in and cover the swamp, Shalmar estimated that they were about halfway to the bay. It was apparent that she would soon have to carry Jacqueline on her back, which would severely impair her ability to react in time if a swamp beast attacked them. She was looking for a piece of land that at least a little bit dry on which they could rest for the night.
From where they were standing at that moment, Shalmar could not see any place that they could take rest. Besides, it was becoming increasingly difficult to find areas shallow enough for walking.
Suddenly they heard wings flapping from above. Under the dim moonlight, they glimpsed a flock of dark birds. They were Gralls: feathered animals, nearly as big as an adult human. Upon seeing them, Shalmar was made immediately aware of her famine, a feeling which up to this point she had refused to think about, given all other problems that she, together with her young partner, were wrestling.
She wished she had brought her bow to this adventure; then she could have knocked one of these animals from the sky, plucked it, and eased the girls’ hunger with their meat. At this moment, it would be just fine to eat the birds raw.
As Shalmar was contemplating this, one of the birds abruptly began falling towards them. Before Shalmar even had time to take out her sword, it crashed into the water about three feet in front of them. Jacqueline was so exhausted that ger gaze was focused on the ground beneath her feet, lest she trip. She did not notice the birds until she heard the splash of water.
When the bird emerged back and turned its body around on the water’s surface, they observed that she had been hit by an arrow. Jacqueline managed to pull out her weapon clumsily.
“That is my catch, let there be no mistake.” They heard a voice a little further off, to their right. Standing amidst the dense shrubs, in total darkness, they could just make out a female silhouette. A girl about Shalmar’s age stood there, dressed in similar clothes and high, dark boots. She held a bow in her hand.
After stepping forward under the moonlight, the girls could clearly see that she was carrying the equipment of a typical Gilskian Grall hunter. In addition to the impressive gear, the fact that it was a woman also revealed that the stranger was from their country. Other kingdoms did not allow women to hunt, especially not in Ro-Oth.
“What are you doing here?” Shalmar called to the unknown huntress. She placed the sword back behind her. She quickly grabbed Jacqueline, who almost dropped her sword and was ready to crash into the water. “Gralls are usually further south at this time of year!”
The unknown girl ran toward them as soon as she realized that one of the Amazons was wounded. She grabbed Jacqueline around the waist and ultimately took the weight of her small frame.
“My boat is there, in the underbrush, just a few steps away.”
Indeed, in a small part of the swamp, wholly covered with tall stems of marsh grass, which the warriors normally would not have given any attention to, there was a skilfully hidden boat. As soon as their new comrade pulled it out, they could see it was packed with everything that one would need for a more extended stay in the swamp: food, clothing, and even accessories for the potential treatment of wounds and injuries. The bow was already filled with a dozen or so killed Gralls.
“I am going to tend to your wound. I have grass that will surely help. You can help yourself to the food. I have a lot of salted meat left, as well as vegetables that have not entirely lost their freshness, even though I have been here for five days. My name is Noieh.”
Although a tremendous hunger was almost forcing her to jump savagely on the pile of food, Shalmar still maintained her composure and, using her knife, began to carefully fix some food for Jacqueline. She then prepared some for herself. The hunger pains she was experiencing where more evident now that she had a chance to eat. She made sure Jacqueline was tended to while she consumed her meal.
While chewing a large piece of dried Grall meat, Shalmar took a more extended look at the big hunting catch at the front of the boat. Noieh saw where Shalmars gaze had fallen and returned to Shalmar’s earlier question, answering:
“Wars are further south at this time of year too. You probably do not know it, but for years now, Gralls prefer to remain here in the swamp after breeding, because of the horrors of war, instead of migrating to Gilsk and other warmer regions. Less of them come to our country every year. They were always keeping away from people, cities, and roads. But the battles are fought on meadows and in forests, their natural means of life. That is why they tend to stay here for an entire year. It is unnatural, I know, but it is so. Therefore, more and more hunters de
cide to go hunting in these areas even during colder periods. What else can we do?”
Although her words and her tone were full of frustration and disappointment at the situation she described, the facial expression and posture of this girl sent the opposite message. She was a self-confident, courageous, experienced and healthy woman, which among the fairer gender was only ever the case among those raised in Gilsk. Shalmar estimated that this woman was in her mid twenties and that they belonged to approximately the same generation. Considering that she was not on the battlefield at that moment, Shalmar knew that this woman must be significant in her village, someone who undoubtedly contributed to the community in many important ways.
Their homeland based its strength and stability in the full usage of all the qualities that women carried. The basis of Gilsk philosophy was the belief that women’s virtues were far superior. All male advantages were considered to be double-edged swords. It was believed that men could equally contribute to the betterment of, as well as harm the community.
For this reason, men were deliberately restrained from progressing in every way. The overly ambitious were calmed down—sometimes with ruthless methods. Girls were treated in the opposite manner. They were watched from infancy and the elders in the society tried to accurately estimate which girls were the most competent, identifying those who had apparent qualities and wide-ranging talents. They did not hesitate, if necessary, to separate those girls from their parents and place them in developmental institutions, because most of these schools functioned in some level of isolation. At these schools, the girls were separated from the rest of society until they reached the age of majority. Even for social activities such as hunting, the young women of Gilsk attended specialized schools, leaving their community for three years, only to return with the perfect knowledge and skills in the activities that were expected of them.
Amazon warrior training was given to those girls who showed exceptional skill and natural ease in all areas of life. But for the men, there was no place either in warrior training or in any of the other training or developmental institutions. They could at best aspire to be the assistants to women who had graduated from those schools. Therefore, Gilsk as of late, occasionally experienced male rebellions. They were generally poorly organized and prepared, short and easily crushed. In addition, because most men were sent to the battlefield, they had become scarce in the last few years.
While she skillfully bandaged Jacqueline’s wounds as Jacqueline slept, Noieh continued her story about the Gralls.
“Yesterday I noticed numerous flocks flying to this region from the south... as if those among them, who decided a few weeks ago to try their luck on the south again, had now once again been forced to return.”
These words brought concern to Shalmar.
“What? What are you saying? Have the fights started again? Are you saying that the truce has been broken?” The Amazon’s voice was filled with concern.
“I do not want to assume anything. I am just telling you what I saw. There are still many battles being fought but I don’t know if the truce has been forgotten”
Shalmar had long speculated that the truce might eventually be severed. Overflying birds were no guarantee, but Shalmar had already grown concerned that the agreement was too fragile. That is why she had built up detailed plans for a counter offence in the last days spent on the battlefield in case the agreement were to come to an end. She had seen to many groups forming together that continued to push for separation. Right now, she had to stay focused and not jump to conclusions.
It was just a bunch of birds after all. She did fully sense something was on its way. She just wasn’t sure what it was. Now they carried the statuette of the people they were supposed to have a truce with. She knew the only hope to establish a firm and lasting peace may have broken with the statuette. Shalmar placed her hand on the two halves of the statuette in her jacket pocket. She could not let her mind get away from her. She mustn’t assume the worst. She had to believe that all the work she and Jacqueline had done would keep the agreement in place. She herself had always felt that the agreement was uncertain due to the events that had occurred in the past. Both parties were still highly sensitive and suspicious of the other’s true agenda. There was always incredible uncertainty within certain groups and bloodshed was still inevitable even if a truce had been made. She had to believe it was not too late.
She was wondering what there was even left to do in these moments. She and Jacqueline finally had a means of transport for the safe return to Gilsk, via docking at the Midbay port of Prymor City. However, the rest the journey from there to the capital, under these new circumstances, presented an entirely new challenge. The fact that they were carrying the statuette left her and Jacqueline in a difficult position. Parts of the main road connecting the two cities were in the hands of the enemy, and most of the side streets were also under occupation or siege. The alternate routes that the Gilskians were forced to build where they had not been before—over the raw plains, overgrown forests, and wetlands—would make travelling a lot longer and harder for everyone.
Shalmar even considered the possibility of returning to the battlefield and joining their forces, which she could accomplish by crossing through the hostile enemy territory. For the Gilsk army, even the smallest help was most certainly needed in those moments. After re-entering their country and rejoining their battle, the Amazons could have someone carry the statuette to the Queen in Blyst, along with an explanation of what had happened to it. But such a plan of action she did not consider to be the best solution. She did not know what would happen if the enemy captured them and found their sacred artifact to be both in the Amazons’ possession and broken in two. Besides, she considered it her personal duty to deliver Tarlaeth to the Queen and provide an explanation in detail. She might even take a new mission, together with the Queen and the Supreme Council of the Amazon Order, to find a new solution for the seemingly hopeless situation that may have befallen on their country.
Shalmar was silent for a few seconds, staring quietly towards the southwest. Briefly, she considered just staying put. Maybe it was best to just sit in the swamp, to feed on mosquitoes and frogs, and let everything else happen without her. After all, all her efforts to prevent harm had been unsuccessful. She would hide from the war like the Gralls, and neglect her duties. All her top-notch training and experience would not help her save the country and its people.
Of course, Shalmar intended to do no such thing. Such thoughts were exactly the mental break she needed to develop a new, entirely crazy and even bold idea. She turned to face the left, her eyes gazing towards the southeast.
She decided to seek escape from this hopeless situation in a place where no one would expect.
*** CHAPTER 7 ***
The long hallway of the Island of Mages Castle echoed with the sound of Declavius’ boots. One of the youngest wizards on the island quickly rushed toward the large ceremonial hall of the palace. He could not remember the last time he had been so excited. It might have been a dozen decades ago. Rumours that he was the chosen one had already reached him. Construction of the castle was one of his first childhood memories, stored in his mind for a few hundred years, and now he was likely to be the first one to leave the fortress. Most of the other Mages had strong memories of the Continent, but that had not stopped them from choosing him. This was not a surprise to him. He was never ashamed to admit that he considered himself a sorcerer with the most energy and potential—the best among the Mages, perhaps except for a few of the oldest and most experienced. His youthful enthusiasm was an advantage over the older ones, though they had a better knowledge of the Continent. His ambition, his eternal desire to be the best and his constant ability to express the cherished characteristics such as treachery, insensitivity and vindictiveness, put him ahead of other youthful wizards.
In the ceremonial hall, near the south window, stood the Chairman, accompanied by a few respected colleagues. The group was enjoying
the view of the sea, behind which stretched lands the Mages had left long ago. Some of them turned their heads as Declavius entered the room, but the majority remained gazing out the window into the distance. Declavius was not surprised by such behaviour. Ever since they had felt the spell breaking and the magical disappearance of the barrier around the Continent, the Mages had showed signs of cheerful, childish behaviour. Some seemed to want to take off to the south immediately, but they remained wary enough to stay grounded.
“Finally, we welcome the possibility of returning to the Continent and starting our revenge.” The chairman had finally shown that he was aware of Declavius’ presence. He started speaking without looking away. Other magicians moved away so that the young wizard could move closer and look out of the same window. “But before we all go back, we must make our return completely secure. The damn statuette of Yarael must be completely destroyed. Its power is still recoverable.”
The old sorcerer put his hand on Declavius’ shoulder and declared:
“We have chosen you, Declavius, to go to the Continent and to neutralize—no, destroy—the object whose name we must not pronounce. It is also the only defence the humans have from our revenge.”
Declavius’ face lit up with happiness. He had, like the other magicians, a strong sense and vision that parts of the broken statuette were in the possession of two powerful and competent humans. But that did not worry him. He knew that no member of the order of Mages had a reason to fear man.
Half an hour later, watched by the upward-gazing wizards on the shore of the island, Declavius flew on the wings of icy winds over the Magic Sea to the south, towards the Continent.