A Woman's World

by Lynne Hill-Clark

  I’m not that lucky, she thought.

  Baya gave a questioning glance to Shema, who motioned for her to enter. Once inside, her fire ball provided enough light to see that the room was rather small. She turned at the sound of movement and a number of throaty growls. There were four cages built into the wall that this room shared with the coliseum. Inside each cage was a lovely rainbow-colored beast.

  “Mook!” Baya called.

  The beast raised its large head to Baya.

  “This is where they keep you? In this tiny cage?” Baya looked around in disgust.

  They let us out when we eat. The beast’s deep voice rang in Baya’s head.

  “Out where?” she asked.

  In the big room. He pointed with his nose toward the arena.

  Baya’s shoulders relaxed. At least he didn’t have to spend all his time locked in a small cell.

  One of the other beasts growled and tried to scratch at Baya through the metal bars. Mook roared and bared his teeth at his companion.

  “Baya.” Shema gestured for her to go through a doorway on the far side of the room.

  Baya gave Mook one last longing look.

  Don’t forget about me, she heard him say.

  “I won’t.” Baya whispered. “If I can make it past the final test.”

  “What’s a Mook?” one of the priestesses asked.

  Baya found herself in yet another small room.

  “Baya.”

  She turned to find her mother in the doorway.

  “We’ll meet you on the other end.”

  Baya realized that it was a promise, of sorts, that she would see her mother again.

  The stone door was shut and the sound of metal scraping against the door could be heard as it was locked.

  No doubt Shema was sealing the door to keep Baya from opening it with her powers. And, once again, there were no instructions other than, “Use your skills to survive.”

  Baya surveyed the room. She didn’t see any threats or dangers. The far wall was covered in a large tapestry. The tapestry contained a combination of letters and pictures. Baya had not seen this text before. There appeared to be nothing else in the room except golden-brown stone walls.

  There was nothing else to do except read the tapestry. She moved toward it.

  Thankfully she read quickly…

  * * *

  What do women love more than life

  Yet fear more than mortal strife

  What the poor have, the rich require

  and what contented women desire

  What the miser spends and the spendthrift saves

  And all women carry to their graves

  * * *

  Baya had barely read the last line when a scraping sound echoed through the room. This was followed by the sound of fabric being torn apart. Sharp wooden spikes forced their way through the tapestry as they closed in on her. She took an instinctive step back.

  The test must have been to solve the riddle before the spikes impaled her. She tried to make out the lines, memorizing them. She re-read the first couple of lines as the spikes ripped it to shreds. The cloth was soon in ribbons, rendering the riddle unreadable.

  “Wait, what did the other lines say?”

  She focused on the start of the riddle. Her first thought was what her mother said a couple days ago about it being even harder when it was Baya trapped in the well than when it had been her mother.

  What we love more than life … our daughters! “The answer is daughters.” She said out loud, to whom, she didn’t know.

  The spikes continued to creep forward.

  Okay, that must not have been the correct answer. Think! The second line has largely the same meaning, skip it. Something about what the poor have and the rich … require. What in the name of Ameris does that mean? The poor don’t have children. So the answer is obviously not children. What the rich want, this doesn’t make sense! Think! The rich require …? “Status, power, prestige.” She blurted out. The spikes crept closer. I don’t know. Move on.

  But the tapestry had been torn away. She couldn’t re-read any of the other lines to study them further. The spikes were far too many to dodge. They pushed her back another step. She glanced at the wall behind her. She needed more time.

  Baya would be impaled against the far wall in only a matter of seconds. She didn’t bother with the door, there was no getting out that way. The trial would never be that easy.

  The objective was clear: solve the riddle to get out.

  What was the next line? She forced herself to focus. But the other lines were hard to recall. How was she supposed to solve this stupid riddle with so little time? If she couldn’t think of the other lines then she was dead.

  She closed her eyes tight. The words, “What we carry to our graves.,” came to mind. What we love most and take with us when we die — our souls. That’s it!

  “Souls!” she yelled. Yet the spikes continued to move forward. “I can’t do this. I need more time.”

  It sounded like her mother’s voice in her head; “So use your powers to make more time.”

  Baya tried to focus on the riddle but all she saw were thick, sharp wooden spikes approaching. Her back was against the far wall and the spikes were only inches away. She focused all her attention on the wood that was about to penetrate her flesh. The wood gave way. It moaned and cracked as it bent away from her. The closest spikes broke in two under her transformation powers. Shards of wood rained down on her.

  Baya exhaled with relief. Now she had more time to think. She kept her mind focused on the bent wood. If she let her guard down the spikes that she had not been powerful enough to fully break would snap back into place and impale her. The problem was that she found it impossible to focus on keeping the wood bent away from her and solve the riddle at the same time. It took all her effort to bend the wood.

  Sweat broke out on Baya’s forehead. Think, think, think! The far wall inched forward. The line of the riddle that confused her most popped into her head. “What the poor have.”

  Well not much, she thought.

  “What the rich require.”

  The rich have everything. So they require nothing. What we take to our graves. That’s it! And what we fear more than death. Nothing. The answer is … nothing.

  “Nothing!” she yelled. But her focus on the spikes wavered. They were bending back toward her.

  Baya tried to concentrate on stopping the wall rather than transforming the wood. She issued an ear-piercing scream as the dirt floor below gave way. She slid out of control, through utter darkness. The sound of grinding stone and splintering wood could be heard from above.

  Chapter 25

  Baya was relieved to be out of that room and equally apprehensive about where she was going. The loudness of the room faded and soon all she heard was air flying past her as she slid into an abyss. The black hole she was falling through leveled somewhat, slowing her descent. She was spit out of the dark tunnel onto a hard surface. “Ouch,” she said as she stood and brushed herself off.

  Baya lit her fire ball and held it high overhead as she scanned her whereabouts. She was on a rock pedestal not much longer than she was tall. The room was larger than the one she had just come from. The floor was about three feet below her. It was covered in … something.

  “What is that?” She got down on all fours and held the light low. It looked like coals. The ground was covered in … coal?

  The floor caught fire. Heat accosted her face and she scrambled to her feet. “Yep. Definitely coals.” She sighed. So almost being impaled was not enough, there was yet another test. Now she had to avoid being roasted.

  With the light of the fire surrounding her, she could more easily see the far walls. They were black stone slabs, with shiny golden hues as the firelight danced off them. The only exception was one small door.

  Of course, Baya thought. The objective must be to get to that door … through the fire.

  Baya broke out in another sweat. This ti
me it was not only from straining to use her powers but from the heat that came at her from all directions. Wave after wave of heat pounded against her body. She wiped her brow with her sleeve.

  What if the only thing that awaited her through that far door was yet another test? How many could they possibly expect them to make it through?

  “This is hopeless,” she breathed.

  Tired and no longer caring, Baya sat down. Flames licked the air all around the pedestal and the heat was unbearable.

  Get up and fight for your life. Don’t be weak! Baya yelled at herself.

  But she could only make fire, not put it out. Maybe she should just lay there until they came for her. She could keep her body from overheating for quite some time. Couldn’t she?

  All she wanted to do was lay down and close her eyes. The heat made her drowsy and her sleepless night had caught up to her. The flames greedily consumed all the air around her.

  Fay took Vicaroy last night just to distract her. She knew it would make her too tired to pass this test. It wasn’t fair. She was too … tired. They would come for her … wouldn’t they? Surely her mother would …

  In the name of Ameris, get your ass up! Baya’s inner fighter yelled. What we fear worse than death — nothing. Now get up!

  She slowly got to her feet. There was more air up there and she took a deep breath.

  Good. Now think! The last tests had to do with transformation.

  “That’s it,” she whispered.

  Women couldn’t put out a fire this big with only their powers but they could take away the fire’s source of fuel. Rus had always said that fire was a very hungry thing.

  “I can transform the coals into … what? Something not flammable. I got it! I can turn the coal into rocks.”

  Baya held out her arms, focusing on the floor in front of her but the fire flared angrily. She jumped back and covered her face with her arm.

  “What happened?” she yelled in frustration. Stones shouldn’t create more flames.

  When the flare-up finally died down, she cautiously ventured to look over the edge, only to find the burnt remains of shoes. Baya’s powers had failed her, instead of rocks she got … footwear.

  She was not ready for this. Why had they sent her into the trials early? Her Transformation of Matter powers were not reliable.

  Despair threatened to consume Baya. Her vision blurred as she stared into the flames. In the flickering reds and yellows she saw Rus’s face, followed by Bek’s, then Aga’s. Even Shema’s shapely form appeared, or maybe it was Ameris. The last vision was of Vicaroy. His voice was almost audible, “You got this.”

  “They believe in me.” She closed her eyes and raised her hands once again.

  The fire died down instantly and there was some relief from the heat.

  “It’s working! And I wanted to give up.”

  Okay, the next problem. She could already feel herself weaken from the effort. It would be impossible to change all the coals into rocks. But she didn’t need to. Baya only had to get to the door on the far side, making a path through the fire.

  She slowly stepped down onto the newly formed rocks. The fire on either side of her felt like it would sear her flesh. Closing her eyes in concentration, she prayed that the coals didn’t turn into shoes again. If they did the flames would consume her.

  Thankfully, a wider, fire-free area formed around her. Focusing on the door she created a pathway of rocks, one step at a time. When the fire died down in front of her, she cautiously moved forward, slowly making her way toward the door.

  By the time she reached the door, her clothes were drenched in sweat and her hands trembled with the effort of using her powers. Yet, it was better than being burnt alive. To her dismay she found that the door was locked. She leaned her forehead against it.

  What if the only thing that awaited her on the other side of this door was another test.

  “Oh, come on!” she yelled.

  It’s a simple locked door. Don’t let that stop you. The agitated voice in her head was annoying. Use your mind to transform the locking mechanism. And do it quick. You don’t have enough energy to keep your body temperature down for much longer.

  The damn fighter inside would not let Baya give up, when that was all she wanted to do. The trials had been too much. Too traumatic. If this was what life was, then she didn’t want it. Facing drowning, being eaten alive by a wild beast, being impaled, and now burning to death. What’s next? What if the next test was worse … somehow? What was the point of fighting?

  “Shut up!” Baya yelled at herself. “The point is, not dying! Now open this damn door!”

  Maybe going insane was also a part of the tests.

  With her head still against the door she closed her eyes and focused on unlocking the door with her mind. Heat relentlessly lashed at her back. At first nothing, then the faint sound of metal clanking could be heard.

  She tried the handle again. It budged only a crack and stuck. “This can’t be happening!” she yelled. Out of sheer panic she pulled again with what little strength she had left. The door came loose, flying open. This sent her tumbling backward. She landed hard on the rocks and one hand fell onto the flaming coals. She screamed as fire shot up her arm.

  Chapter 26

  Holding her burnt hand to her chest, Baya ran through the door and slammed it closed, shutting out the unbearable heat. She lit her light with her good hand, panting and fearful that there would be some new danger coming at her in the darkness. Her knees were weak and she wondered how much longer they would hold her. She didn’t have the strength for any more trials. It felt like all her powers had been drained away … used up. Her legs trembled as she moved forward.

  Before her lay nothing but stairs. They appeared to stretch far beyond the reach of her light. She didn’t trust the emptiness, certain that every wobbly step she took would lead her into yet another danger. Any moment something unexpected would jump out at her. She cautiously headed up and up. As she continued to climb her light grew weaker. She had never used her powers to this extent. They were fading away. Soon she would have nothing left, not even a light to see by. Her legs would not be able to carry her much longer.

  She must have been heading out of the underground dungeon. Maybe, just maybe, she thought, these stairs lead to safety. They simply have to — before it’s too late.

  The stairs finally ended and a door came into view. Baya’s hand hesitated on the handle. What if it leads to another test? Dread and doubt consumed her. Perhaps she shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up.

  The handle turned easily and the door opened wide. Light surrounded her, stinging her eyes. She shaded her face with her good arm and blinked. Numerous blurry figures stood in front of her.

  “Baya!” Her mother’s arms were around her. “You made it out already. That must be a record.”

  Was she in the garden?

  Yes, this was the Garden! She was safe.

  “What do you mean, that was fast?” Baya spat. “It felt like an eternity.” The knowledge that she was outside under a clear purple sky slowly sank in and she let herself go limp in her mother’s embrace. As soon as she did, it felt as if her hand was back in the flames. It throbbed angrily, demanding her attention. She cradled her hand to her chest. “Please tell me there are no more tests.”

  “No more … ever. You made it through them all. You’re done.” Aga explained. Her attention turned to Baya’s bright red hand. “You’re injured. Where’s the healer?”

  Baya had made it out. No more tests. No more danger. She was safe. The suffocating underground dungeon was behind her — forever. The trials were over and she had passed.

  The priestess who had bandaged Baya’s arm the day before examined her red palm. It looked like there were air bubbles under her skin. Baya hissed and clenched her jaw as the woman rubbed an ointment over her palm. She used her powers to cool a wet rag and wrapped it around Baya’s hand.

  Baya sighed at the instant relief. “Thank
you.”

  “Well. At least Fay made it through the trials without any injuries,” May said. “While Baya somehow managed to sustain two.”

  “Baya made it through the third trial in far better time than Fay,” Aga snapped.

  “It’s not a timed test,” May retorted.

  “Fay almost didn’t make it past the hopeless spell. She all but gave up entirely. She would have burned to death.”

  “Enough.” Shema sighed. “Both mistresses proved themselves to be powerful and strong.”

  Baya glared at her mother. “There was a hopeless spell cast on that last room?” Her cheeks burned with anger. “As if getting past the spikes and the riddle wasn’t enough. As if the threat of being burned alive wasn’t enough. Then you added a hopeless spell?”

  The abject desperation she had felt in the fiery room, the unrelenting doubt, had been a spell to make her feel that way. That was unnecessary and excessive. Maybe they were truly trying to kill the mistresses. Baya kept her eyes narrowed on her mother. Never again.

  “It only makes you stronger, my dear, as all the trials are designed to do.”

  “And if I hadn’t been strong enough?”

  Aga didn’t speak the words but Baya knew the answer. Then she would have been better off dead as she couldn’t become a priestess, let alone the next Unawi.

  “All that matters is that you were strong enough,” Aga whispered.

  Shema stepped in front of Baya. “Kneel before me.”

  Baya was glad to give her weak legs a break. However, after she knelt all she wanted to do was lay down in the grass and sleep. She had no more energy to argue with her mother.

  The priestesses formed a circle around Baya and bowed their heads in respect.

  “Baya,” Shema began. “Over these past three days, you were able to overcome great obstacles. You demonstrated that you can control your fear and persevere despite the odds being weighted heavily against you. You have proven mastery over your feminine gifts.”