Song of Swords - Chapter 1

Chapter One

        Silence hung over the valley like a heavy veil; the normal chatter of smaller animals was absent. Normally the soft patter of leaves could be heard as the trees changed their colors, but even that was muted, perhaps by the opaque, gray tendrils of mist that flooded over the exposed roots. They lapped against her feet in small, eddying currents, the larger sheets of viscous air blocking Arae’s vision. The young woman was tall, not unnaturally so but still head and shoulders above many in her village. Her deep black hair was cropped close to her head, save for the longer shock in the front that marked her status as a warrior. It wasn’t very long yet, something that was quite vexing to her, as it marked her as someone with less experience. Her skin was fairly smooth, tanned from the amount of time she spent outdoors, and her features comely. There were many in the village that were much better looking than her, another sore point, but what use did a warrior have for beauty? It still rankled her.

        She squinted to try and see farther into the distance, the deep jade of her orbs enhanced by the surrounding darkness. An uneasy chill passed through her body; the skin along her arms was raised, mottled with small bumps like a plucked goose. A thrill of fear washed over her spine as a draft of arid wind crept out from amidst the vapor, carrying with it an acidic tang that was reminiscent of searing meat. It seemed to cling to her person, the cloying odor sickening. Her stomach clenched.

        Arae put down the bag she was carrying, and drew her hunting knife. Batting at the air in front of her, she tried to scan the area. The curtain of fog grew thicker. Nothing could be seen through it.  Arae sighed. She ought to know these woods like the back of her hand; she had played in them enough as a child.  Taking a moment to orientate herself, she turned towards the right and slowly put one foot in front of the other, feeling her way through the underbrush. Her hand hit a tree and she groped about it for the side where the moss grew, away from the sun. Her bearings found, she veered left. There should be a clearing due north if she held to her path.

                Past the ring of trees staggered about the edge of the meadow the air was no clearer. Her breath was harsh in her ears in the unnatural silence of the forest, her nerves on edge. Arae’s eyes darted from one bank of fog to another, praying that nothing would be lurking behind the thick shrouds. It wasn’t as if she was superstitious. Her mother had told her many a tale, as had the healers when she watched them work their skills, of gods and gruesome beasts. The fanciful things that had pervaded the sleep of her younger years seemed to haunt her now, threatening evil deeds if she put one foot wrong.

        It was the unnatural stillness of the wood, the fog that had settled into the roots and ravines, the feeling of wrongness that permeated the entire area. Of course, they were only tales. Arae tied to swallow, her throat dry. Beyond any of the creatures that she had imagined, she believed in the steel that she held, honed to rival the sharpest sword. The physical manifestation of her courage kept her grounded.

         Arae stumbled over a rise in the terrain, her toe catching on the dirt displaced along a set of deep wagon tracks. Barely biting back a scream, she fell forward, her teeth cutting into the skin inside her mouth. Desperately trying to get her heart to beat normally, Arae knelt to examine the turf, ignoring the thick liquid that seeped over her tongue. Her blood pounded like a war drum in her ears, trying to take reason away with it. She could feel it pulsing under her skin, beating as her chest heaved, carrying a flush to her cheeks that was neither anger nor passion. It was little more than mud, the ground, but the deep gouges that the wagon had left on it sent warning bells through the young Amazon’s head. None of her people would damage the land like this; they held too much respect for it.

        As if the wind could hear Arae’s thoughts, the fog parted before her, showing the path that led towards the village. It was mottled with hundreds of footprints; the weight of the moving bodies had crushed all life out of the earth. A vestigial strand of grass lay amidst the tracks, a lone survivor where all its sisters and brothers had fallen.

        She stood quickly, ignoring the sharp pain that lanced though her thigh and began to jog steadily along the over worn path. It stretched along the clearing and back into the forest, the irregular earth catching at her feet, trying to trip her or bind her to the spot. She pushed on. She deviated from the path in a reckless move, trying to get to her destination sooner. The forest thickened around her, but Arae twisted and weaved around the various branches that threatened to slow her progress. Farther into the forest, the fog thickened again. She was loath to slow her pace until a heavy rotted log rose out of the mist, parting it as a boat parted the water. It was directly before her, the width of the tree enough to reach well past her shoulders. She was forced to stop, panting. The bark left its pattern in her forearm as she leaned heavily against it.

        Arae’s mouth was dry, the foam accrued from running ringed her lips; she struggled for air. Her body bent double, her legs folding until she could rest her elbows on her thighs, head hanging between them like a kicked dog. Cursing her luck she looked up, trying to see past the fog to estimate the time of day. Her breath was jagged in her ears, harsh, labored. A surge of wind swept past her, the clash of steel and battle cries of Amazon warriors riding with it.  Their voices were faint, the ring of swords muted. The cries of the dying were further in the background, yet Arae was struck more by these than the sounds of the actual battle. The tree behind her mocked her with its decaying bark, molded by time and the elements. She screamed in rage and struck out at it, her fist biting deep into the tree's pulp from the force of her blow.

        She couldn’t let herself think of the ache that was spreading through her arms, or the blood that was worming over her skin as she clawed her way over the obstacle.  Her dagger bit into the tree multiple times, providing her the hold that she needed to reach the other side. Fear lent her feet wings as she ran towards her village; the throbbing of her wounded leg was ignored for speed to end her flight.

        Finally, she broke through the underbrush that surrounded the outer edge of the village’s crops. The mist had thinned significantly since she had first started running but the horizon was still mostly hidden. The elders had strategically positioned the village when it had first been built; it was in the heart of the forest, blocked from view by the mightiest trees. A river ran by one side of it that the men used for washing, and the village for bathing; springs of fresh water welled from the center of the village, outside the hut of the Matriarch. It was reaching the cusp of the year, the verdant colors of the trees changing for the rich tones of the autumn season. Crisp straw adorned the top of the village huts, arranged to mimic the bark of the nearby trees; it made them less noticeable to those who had not grown up with the tribe of Amazons. What caused her to stumble to a halt, however, was not anything deemed ordinary, even for Amazons.

        There were no fields to tend to. The entire area had been flattened, the harvest trampled into mire. A little further away, the road returned from the forest. Over the gentle rise the tops of the village’s huts could be seen, thick black smoke rising from the thatch of more than one. And in the stretch that lay between Arae and the village, small fires burned where huge plots of the ground had been torn, the dirt and grass strewn in circular shapes. Piles of bodies were tossed about the ground, half covered in sludge so red that it rivaled the richest sunset.

        Swords and arrows littered the ground around them. There were men covered in mail, unfamiliar symbols etched into the steel; mud clung to everything. Limbs were hacked off, hands reaching towards the sky. And amidst the field, people that she knew, that she had lived and grown up with, lay staring, their sightless eyes searching the heavens.

        The cold tendrils of mist crept from the forest to curl around the dead, a surreal swamp. The clash of swords and screams of wounded men and women rang through the murky air. Amazon signals were being yelled, twittering like birds of prey. Arae ran forward into the din, the bodies of the participants of the battle emerging from the mist like ghosts. The road towards the village was not very long but it still seemed hours till she reached the skirmish, her legs tired and arms weary from the struggle uphill. The Amazons had put up a fight, costly to the attacking force. The crows witnessed, circling above, too cowardly to descend while there were still people fighting. A cinder cracked in one of the huts, causing the blaze to leap with new passion. More huts were engulfed in flame, smoke rising angry and black into the air, the pitch that had been used to seal out rain consumed by the ever-hungry monster.

        There were still hundreds participating in the fray, but the tide was slowly being turned in favor of the Amazons. Arae nearly shrieked as a man started barreling towards her. The force of her dagger stopping the man’s sword drove the numbness from her limbs. She couldn’t allow the shock to take her, but she could barely breathe with her heart leaping in her throat. Arae turned the blade aside, the grating sound of the steel scraping together making her teeth hurt. The man moved quickly, swinging his sword at her head. Arae ducked, stepping inside his arm span and reversed her dagger, forcing it upward into the soft tissue beneath his jaw.

        Blood shot out of the wound, covering her in the warm, crimson spatter. The body before her slumped into the mud; her mind ground to a halt. She stood staring mutely at the corpse before her, spurts of his life force running around the edges of her blade firmly secured in his flesh. As if through a haze, Arae turned slowly towards a fallen comrade and offered her a hand. It felt as if she was moving through water. The Amazon accepted and regained her footing, adjusting the grip on her sword before seeking out another opponent.

        Arae knelt down next to the corpse of the man she had slain. Amidst the horror of actually taking another's life, the thought occurred to her that she had finally been blooded, raising her status. Arae’s lips twitched into a grim smile; her mother would be proud. Grasping the dagger’s hilt she withdrew it from its once living sheath. A slurping sound accompanied it, along with another gush of fluids; the contents of her stomach threatened to expose themselves once more, the sick feeling drawing strength from her limbs. Killing was not as romantic or exciting as she had heard.

        She felt more than heard the footsteps directly behind her, and barely avoided the sword that had lodged in the ground where she had been sitting. A filthy beard obscured the man’s face, more black than red, and so long it reached his breastplate. His armor was not well made, the chinks more than wide enough to slip a full sized sword through. He reeked; Arae could smell him, even through the chaotic mess of the battle, the metallic tang of blood, and the stench of bile and urine. Her jaw clenched as she caught his second swing, the dagger sliding down the length of his blade. He pushed against her, trying to catch her off balance.

        She spun abruptly, leaning backwards. The man’s eyes widened in delight as he dove in for what he presumed to be the kill; Arae’s right leg whipped around to hit behind his knees. The flash of pain that lanced through her body made her rethink her decision momentarily, but she pushed it to the side. Now was not the time to allow any distractions. The man hit the ground, and she straddled his chest, plunging her dagger into his heart. His eyes widened almost comically as blood and foam began to spew from his mouth, his limbs convulsing as his last breath of life escaped him.

        Panting, Arae tried to withdraw her dagger. It refused to move, part of the blade had caught on something. She didn’t have time to try to pull it out again because there was another man upon her. She rolled out of the way of his swing; hands groping about the mud in search of the sword her previous opponent had dropped. The sludge was thick, a thin coat of water covering the top from where it had rained the previous night; it covered her arms a hand span past her wrist. Eyes watering she looked up into the beady eyes of the man, raising his sword for the final stroke that would have ended her life. It started to fall, only to be caught by a familiar staff.

        “Nithe!” Arae cried.

        The girl struggled, pushing the sword away with a surge of strength. Another Amazon quickly joined to take out the attacking man. A back kick followed by a clout from the quarterstaff knocked him over, toppling senseless to the ground. His throat was cut a moment later.

        “Arae, by the gods! Where were you?” Her short brown hair bobbed about her head, the crimson spatters merging with the dirt to make it stand on end. Her fey-like face was streaked with blood as well, darker smears of soot and earth giving it a mottled look. There was an unholy gleam in her dark eyes still rimmed with khol, the latter a battle tactic of her tribe to intimidate opponents. For such a small thing, Nithe had always been somewhat viscous, however she was still one of Arae's closest friends. “We thought you were dead!”

        “I was hunting! Mother wanted-“

        “Duck!“

        The blade barely missed them, severing a lock of Arae’s hair as she tumbled to the ground again, the ooze caking her skin and clothes. Her fingers closed on the handle of a sword as she dug into the mud for purchase; she forced herself to her feet, trembling with exertion. The man had already been dispatched by the time she turned around, and Nithe grabbed her forearm to drag her into a nearby hut.

        “I was hunting for my sister’s majority,” Arae panted, gritting her teeth in pain as she examined her thigh. The wound had broken open again, the thick brown of the congealed blood cracked to reveal the dark gashes than ran parallel down towards her calf. She pressed her hands against it to stop the flow. The field dressing she had applied to it had slipped off in the fight; gods only know where it was now.  “What happened?”

        “They took out the sentries two days ago-“

        “But that was only a day after I left!”

        “I know. Your mother wanted to sent a scout to find you immediately, but the Matriarch said that if you should be able to take care of yourself after seventeen winters.”

        “Sounds like her.”

        “She’s a brilliant tactician.”

        “I know. So who are these pigs? Where did they come from?” Arae winced and braced herself against the solid wood of the hut’s walls.

        “The northern kingdom. They surrounded the village and demanded to speak to our leader. Your mother went instead as second to the Matriarch
with a delegation of elders to try and negotiate peacefully.”

        “Oh gods. Please don’t tell me…”

        “I’m not finished.”

        “Go on then!”

        “They demanded us to send out our ‘witches’ for cleansing.”

        “Witches?”

        “That’s what I said! I have no idea what they meant by that, but apparently the elders did. They said that they wouldn’t ‘surrender our healers for their mindless torture’, their exact words, and that they were not welcome on Amazon territory. It only got worse from there.”

        “Who is this king? Why would he want to torture healers?”

        “Here let me bind that.” Nithe took over to finish the knot, sealing the wound. “This is going to have to be cleaned later.”

        “So then they didn’t leave.”

        “They attacked last night, under the cover of the storm. The men that were tending the children in the huts closest the fields were slaughtered before the Matriarch began defensive action.”

        An impact against the opposite side of the hut drew their attention, the shoulder of an enemy soldier showing through the splintered parts of wood. One more hit sent him plowing through, dust and planks from the wall flying out of his path. The two girls dove in opposite directions. Nithe leapt swinging her staff with clarity to thud into the back of his head. It propelled him towards Arae, lying on the floor were she had fallen. The sword she had found was on the ground several yards away. The mass of armor and flesh was hurdling at her; she did the only thing she could think of and rolled towards him. Arae hit his legs hard enough to send him to the floor as well. Nithe cheerfully bounded over and snapped his neck with a sharp kick, turning towards the other girl.

        “You seem to be fine with all of this.” Arae frowned.

        “Arae,” Nithe smirked. “We have been trained for battle since our majority.” 
     
        “Training is one thing; nothing can prepare us enough to face this!” She gestured sharply at the battle surrounding the hut. “How many have you killed today?”

        “Enough...” the other girl responded defensively, brows furrowing.

        “Enough? Enough of this!” Arae turned angrily, bending sharply to retrieve her sword.

        “Where are you going? “ Her friend stepped up to her shoulder, and gestured at the door. “We should rejoin the others! We need every warrior.”

        “I need to find Mother and Tinry. I’ll fight again once I know that they are safe.”

        Arae caught a glimpse of something she could classify as remorse as she looked over into her friend’s eyes. A horrible dread washed over her.

        “Where are they.”

        “Arae…”

        “What happened to them?”

        “I don't know where your mother is but.. well... it happened so fast-“

        Another soldier crashed through the hole in the wall, widening the ragged opening. The howl of rage that spilled from her lips may have caused him second thoughts if any were permitted as her blade skewered him. The sudden surge of anger lent her tired muscles strength; her sword had passed completely through his armor, entering from above his chest and severing his spine. Coals of fury nestled in her stomach, their flames being fanned to greater heights until they threatened to consume her.

        “I trusted you,” Arae screamed, leaning down to grasp at her friend’s top and lifted her from the ground. Nithe gasped, kicking futilely at the air, dropping her staff to clutch at Arae’s iron grasp. “My... my little sister…”

        “She was an Amazon! She knew what could happen in a battle, any warrior does! Arae! Stop it…”

        Tears welled in Arae’s eyes, causing her vision to blur. Her limbs weakened, and her hand dropped, lowering Nithe. Her legs gave out last, the weight of her body driving her to the unforgiving ground.

        “She wasn’t a warrior, they would have had no reason to kill her! She was still a child!” Her voice cracked.

        Nithe’s head turned as she heard a change in the commotion outside of the broken hut. Cheers of victory rang through the air; the surviving Amazons raised their weapons to the heavens, the war cries replaced with joyous shouts of relief.

        “I don’t believe you.”

        “Believe what you want.”

        Nithe turned and left the hut, the void inside settling into the young Amazon’s stomach.




Words: 3,447
--------------------------------------------

A reader has addressed a question I'm sure a lot of others have had. This story is in the Gay/Lesbian genre because Arae is essentially a Lesbian. A bit of backstory that will be addressed further in the next installment: In my Amazon culture, the women marry each other as partners, and capture men as "slaves" to father children. They select them for the physical attributes to strengthen the tribe, and can trade them like commodities. When a male is born into the tribe, they have the same status as women had in medevil cultures - they are considered important, but more or less second class citizens. Still, they are considered better than a slave and have more rights. Men can marry into the tribe as well, for political connections, etc., without becoming a slave, again they recieve the same rights as aforementioned.

Hope you will all stay tuned as I crank out some more fiction...

Invalid Item  This item number is not valid. #1282551 by Not Available.