by Guy Estes
Manda looked at them all. “Perhaps. And perhaps you are all simply shielding Aleena, like Valkira said.”
“He would have to keep it a secret from all of Sharleah,” Jac reminded her.
“Perhaps,” Manda said quietly as she walked away, her glance lingering on Aleena.
CHAPTER 21
“I love those who can smile in trouble, who can gather strength from distress, and grow brave by reflection. ’Tis the business of little minds to shrink, but they whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves their conduct, will pursue their principles unto death.” – Leonardo da Vinci
“Do your duty in all things. You cannot do more, you should never wish to do less.” – Robert E. Lee
Aleena wandered in the lush semi-tropical forest that surrounded her home, moving from one favorite haunt to another. This section of the forest was not so dense as it appeared from its exterior. Traversing its trails, impaled by slanting spears of sunlight, was an easy stroll. Aleena wore her white tunic with her scramasax on her right hip and carried a sheathed Firethorne in her hand. She'd had the dream again, the one about Anlon. Her mind was a mixture of anger and grief, with a bit of fear tossed in. Madigan had confirmed her interpretation of the dream when she'd told him about it. He told her of the visions he’d had since before her birth.
“One would be driven mad,” Madigan told her. “One would be exiled. One would be taken. You were taken. Anlon seems to be losing his grip on things. And the dark one in your dream certainly seems to be a wanderer.”
“A sound enough conclusion, but is there no way to be certain?”
“Prophecy is much like looking at a picture,” Madigan told her as he gestured to a painting on his wall. “When I am too far away, I can see nothing. When I am the proper distance away, I can see everything, yet that vision narrows the closer I get to the picture. If I am actually in the picture itself, all I can see are the things in my immediate vicinity. In this particular case, I am in the picture. Consequently, I can only see what is right beside me, with only the occasional flashing glimpse of more distant things.” He gave a helpless shrug. “It is the nature of things.”
Aleena looked off into the distance for several moments before speaking.
“He’s my brother, Madigan,” she said with a sigh. “Why must he do this? He had such potential. He could’ve been something great if he’d just done things a little differently. If only he’d just…” She shrugged and waved her hands in small, helpless circles. “He fearlessly faced all those opponents in the arena, but he could never face himself.” She trailed off as she shook her head with regret. “You’re telling me I must kill my brother. I must kill the only one of my kind.”
“Eventually, yes, you will have to kill him, or allow him to kill you. But he’s not the only other one of your kind, Aleena. Remember in my vision I’d seen a third Chosen, a brunette woman, not unlike the one you’ve seen in your dreams. You don’t just have a brother. Somewhere out there, you also have a sister.”
Aleena looked at him.
“Is she better than Anlon?”
“I don’t know. She may be better. She may be worse. You will not know until you meet her.”
Aleena’s mind returned to the present as she tried to come to grips with her situation.
Gods damn it! I just returned from one odyssey, one voice raged within her, the one she called the Princess because it was her selfish, petulant side. Must I set out on another? Have I not been subjected to enough?
Then a second voice, the one she called the Scholar, replied, You knew what you were letting yourself in for when you chose this profession. A warrior knows little peace.
The Princess countered, But did I really choose this profession, or did it choose me? According to the legend, the Chosen are born blessed. If that is true, then I never really had a choice at all, did I? I was never consulted before this burden was dumped on me. I never asked for any of this.
Oh, cease this infernal whining, a third voice, the Instructress, intruded. Stop chasing your tail and accept it like a lady. Whether you are blessed or cursed matters not. The simple fact is that you alone possess the means to face this problem. Stand tall and proud and cope with it. All of this philosophizing will accomplish nothing. You know as well as I that if you do not seek Anlon out he will probably come looking for you. Do you want that man, unhinged by his own gift and possibly with an army at his back, to come calling on you here, in the midst of everything and everyone you love?
Perhaps, a fourth voice, the one Aleena called the Little Girl because it represented the childlike optimism in her, he will not go to all the trouble of hunting me out. Perhaps he will be content to take his anger out on opponents in the arena.
Aleena had circled back to her house and was walking into her yard when Ilian hurried out to meet her.
"Aleena," she urged, "you must come quickly."
"What is the matter?"
"I will let them explain," Ilian replied while leading her into the house. Ivarr was inside, along with several other people. One was seated across from Ivarr while the others stood. Aleena recognized all of them as denizens of Sharleah.
"Aleena," her father greeted. "I think you will be interested in what these men have to say."
"What is it?"
"Aleena," the man standing said, "seven well-armed men have arrived in town, and they've been making inquiries."
"About what?"
"About you."
"Did you get any of their names?"
"Only the leader's. They call him Duvdarra."
What Aleena had been dreading for so long had finally come to pass. One of her enemies from the past had caught up with her. Duvdarra. Of all the foes she'd faced in the arena, he and Anlon were the only two who'd survived. However, while Anlon survived because of Aleena's heart, Duvdarra's survival was a mystery to her. She had split his belly open, stopping just short of his spine.
Perhaps it is someone using Duvdarra's name. Or perhaps Duvdarra's sponsors at the games had broken the rules and employed magic to preserve his life.
"What does he wish to know?"
"Where you are. He said he wishes to speak with you."
"About what?"
"He did not say, and I did not think it wise to pry."
Aleena had an idea about what he wanted. He wanted a re-match. And he brought six extra men to court the odds. Aleena sighed.
Nevawn damn him.
Aleena got up and, without a word, went to her room and changed out of her tunic and into her other birthday presents. The small crowd in her front room fell quiet when they viewed her in full battle regalia. She was beautiful and terrible; covered from shoulders to ankles in plate and mail armor, helmet on her head with its light stone that matched the one on her belt buckle, with shining sword in her hand and black axe on her back. She was like the storm she’d been born in – a beautiful phenomenon of nature that could obliterate anyone it got the urge to and there was absolutely nothing anyone could do about it. She required only one piece of information.
"Where is Duvdarra now?"
* * *
Sharleah was silent as Aleena strode through the main street. The sun was high and glinted dully on her enchanted armor. Her enemies were easy enough to locate. They were waiting for her in the town square. Aleena did not know the others, but she recognized Duvdarra instantly. He had a high forehead, behind which grew brown hair, straight and dark. His brown eyes were somewhat sunken, surrounded by bony rings. He was as tall as she, and his musculature was solid and wiry rather than massive and bulky. His torso was protected by black segmented armor that left his arms bare. Underneath, he wore a dark tunic, and black greaves protected his shins. He was armed with three boar spears and a single-handed sword. His retainers were equipped with a wide variety of arms and armor.
“Why, Aleena Kurrin,” he said in his soft voice, “you look as you’ve just knocked on your tomb. I suppose you can gue
ss why I’m here.”
“Actually, I must confess that I am a bit confused. Our fight was finished long ago. If you had died like you were supposed to you never would have had to go to all the trouble of finding me.”
“It requires far more than a mere girl to send me to the Otherworld. In any event, that is not the only reason I am here. There is another old friend from the arena who would like very much to see you again.”
“Anlon.”
“The very same. He is chieftain of the Charidian now, and has conquered many tribes. He rules much of the steppes and has amassed quite an army. He has sent me to extend to you an invitation to call upon him at his manor.”
“As tempting as that sounds, I’m afraid I have a prior engagement, and I must respectfully decline.”
Duvdarra shook his head and tsked. “He was afraid you’d say that, so he insists that you join him.”
“If I refuse? Will he march an army here?”
“Eventually. But first he will send assassins.”
“I thought he wanted to defeat me himself.”
“The assassins won’t be for you, Aleena. They will be for everyone around you.”
“I see,” she said after a pause.
“And after tormenting you with that, he will march his host here, destroying everything in their path, including this picturesque little town. Indeed, he will gladly wipe out the entire Artisan League to get at you. You know he can do it, Aleena, and you know he will do it. It is a simple choice for you. However, it is not such a simple choice for me, I fear.”
“What choice is it that troubles you?”
“Well, I am loyal to Anlon, of course, but now that I have you standing here before me, I find the temptation to collect retribution far greater than I expected. I simply must have another bout with you.”
“Which is why you brought six men with you. You haven’t forgotten what happened the last time we fought.”
“Anlon hasn’t forgotten the last time you and he fought, either,” Duvdarra said, and he started to chuckle. “I must say, Aleena, slashing him across the backside was a masterful touch! He will never forgive you.”
“If the stupid bastard would take a few moments to see past his arrogance, he would see that he is lucky to still be able to experience embarrassment. None of my other foes can.”
“Well, the reunion has been lovely, but –“
Aleena whipped the sheath of Firethorne and slung it around her in a motion made fluid by practice and talent as she assaulted the man nearest her. She struck him down and went on to the second, then the third. She struck down six armed opponents in as many heartbeats, Firethorne set as sharp as it would go. Their bodies offered as much resistance to her blade as air. Then Duvdarra found her standing before him, all of his men dead and their slayer not even breathing hard.
Duvdarra cast a spear at her, followed by his second. Aleena used her sword to smack them away. Duvdarra charged with his last spear in hand, thrusting for her face. Aleena shoved it aside and swung down at Duvdarra. He held his spear shaft horizontally to block her blow. With Firethorne as sharp as she could make it, the hardwood shaft offered about as much resistance as a carrot stick. Firethorne swept through it and Duvdarra’s skull. It didn’t stop until he had been completely bisected.
Aleena cleaned her weapon before sheathing it. The villagers gradually filtered out into the street, accepting the fact that the threat was over only when they viewed the bodies. Aleena started for home when the cheering began. She stopped and looked around at the people and let their praises wash over her. This was not the cheering of spectators in the arena howling for blood. This was the gratitude of her community. Aleena let herself enjoy it, absorb it, feed off of it.
“Hail the Sword Maiden!” someone shouted. Aleena smiled. The title sounded poetic but she’d surrendered her status as a maiden four years ago.
“Hail the Mistress of Blades!” cheered someone else.
Not just blades, her pride wanted to remind them, but she kept it to herself as she gave an appreciative wave. Then she went home, knowing what she had to do.
* * *
In her dream, the witch saw Anlon striding forward, an army at his back. Between Anlon and the witch stood Aleena. They were surrounded by a dark, grey wasteland. The witch had had this dream before, and it had left her feeling anxious, torn between what she knew she must do and what she feared. But in her visions she’d seen Aleena and Anlon in the arena. She’d seen their last battle. That knowledge drove the fear from her heart and replaced it with the calm certainty of one who not only knew what she must do, but who had resolved to do it. The young eagle no longer feared the void she was about to spring into. Now she welcomed it.
Aleena, the beautiful light bringer, stood alone against her foe. The witch began walking towards her. Aleena turned and looked at her, her face undecided between hope and fear. The witch looked straight at her and made her a promise.
“I am coming.”
* * *
The day of departure dawned, and Aleena rolled out of bed with all the enthusiasm of tree sap in mid-winter. She realized that a warrior's life entails leaving home fairly often, and she loved to travel, but she did not want to leave. It had been so wonderful having no threats to her life lurking around every corner. Her bumbling classmates were such a refreshing change of adversaries from hardened professionals and demonic beasts.
Aleena was up before her parents, and she prepared breakfast. She was sitting on the porch experiencing the sunrise and eating her meal when she admitted the truth behind her anxiety. She was scared, though not of death. What she feared was having to do a truly unpleasant task. She feared killing Anlon the way one might fear amputating a limb – it’s necessary but so horrifying one is willing to consider almost any alternative in order to avoid it. And she was none too fond of the idea of defeat. If she failed to stop Anlon, there was no one to take her place. Anlon would be free to do as he pleased.
One of her little voices chimed up, the one she called the Mother because it was the one with which she comforted herself while bolstering her courage.
The desert was unknown, and dangerous, but despite all of that you still have fond memories of it. It is with a glad heart that you recall the feel of the wind in your hair and on your face, and the shifting sand between your toes. The grandeur of the scoured mountains and canyons and the marching dunes still evokes awe within your spirit. And who could forget the Solvah Shkarr, the tribe of outcasts who saved your life and adopted you as one of their own?
But laced with that are the memories of slave pens, subhuman beasts, and the arena, to say nothing of meeting then losing the only other one of her kind.
And from those experiences came self-discovery and maturation. For all things there is a price. The good remains inextricably tied with the bad, like threads of opposing colors in Mother's tapestries. The price for experiencing such wonders is leaving the comfort of the nest. The price for retaining the comfort of the nest is never experiencing the wonder at all. Strength can only be gained through adversity.
Aleena sighed. The mother was right, of course (they always were), but that did not make hurling herself out into the unsheltered world any easier. The comfort of the nest was a difficult thing to surrender.
Ivarr spent a few moments in the doorway behind Aleena and studied his daughter, pride swelling his chest. Tamura, but she was beautiful! She had looks, she had intelligence, and she had talent. But most of all, she had courage. She had fire and heart.
How many people, Ivarr wondered, could have survived the things she had? How many people could spend months with slave traders and not go mad? How many people could survive the desert when they knew nothing about it? How many people could survive being captive in a gladiator's arena, and then bend her captors to her will? How many people could have the resolve to get home, despite all those obstacles, plus new ones that kept springing up? My daughter did all of that, and she d
id it as a seventeen year old girl! And rather than letting the experience tax her, she drew strength and knowledge from it. That is my daughter!
"Are you packed?" he asked as he stepped out onto the porch and sat, resting his plate on his lap.
"Yes," was her quiet reply.
"You know, when we discovered you were taken, I briefly experienced death. I felt the impact of something so terrible I cannot describe it. After that, I experienced death on a more gradual scale, a little bit each day, even on the day you returned."
Aleena looked at him, her head cocked quizzically. "What died on that day?"
"My little kitten. By the time you made your way back, you had grown up into a tigress. 'Tis truly odd how I longed for the moment while dreading it."
"Why?"
"I longed to see what sort of woman you would become, but once you grew into a tigress you would no longer need me."
"No longer need you? How can you think such a thing? You are my father, the man who helped me into this world, who let me into his forge so I could learn the secrets of steel, the man who let me bruise him with sticks so I would know how to handle an adversary. I will always need you, like I need the mountains or the air. Why do you torture yourself?"
"Because there is some measure of truth to it. Unlike the mountains or air, I will be gone one day. Things can never remain the same. Nature will not allow it."
"To the seven hells with nature. I will remain the same for you. I will always be your little kitten."
"No," he gently chided. "You must grow. You must learn. You must become something other than Ivarr and Ilian's daughter."
"Why do you tell me this? Have the physicians dire predictions about you?"
"No, nothing like that. All tigers must learn to catch their own prey, especially the females. She must prevail against the odds to sustain her young. To do this, she has to be a better hunter, for if she fails to catch prey, not only does she go hungry but so do her young. If the young die, all of the tigers die." He swept a big hand out to gesture at the world in general. "There are your young, my tigress. You must ensure their survival. I know it is hard and you would rather just curl up in your den and sleep it away, but you know as well as I that you cannot do that."