THE ZENA SCROLLS: CHAPTER III

[Zena]

Apollo glanced over his small shoulder as he reluctantly trudged off to bed with his sisters and brothers. Zena made a “shooing” motion at him with her hand and then turned her attention to Gabby. She laid her hand tenderly on the girl’s forearm and spoke in a gentle whisper. “Go to bed now. I need to speak with Red and then I promise you we will have a long talk.” Gabby was not ready to be counted in with children who were sent away and she scowled darkly at Zena.
“No. I’m part of this...Red has been good to me..” Zena shook her head slowly, her dark curls wet against her forehead.
“Not now. Go to bed. There is more here than you understand.”
“I AM NOT A CHILD.” Gabby pulled loose from her mother.
“I know that......”, Zena gestured her helplessness with open palms. Their voices rose in the heavy evening air.
“You treat me like one.....you don’t listen.....you forget I exist!”
“I NEVER forget you!”
“You are NEVER here! Red talks to me! SHE listens!”
“Gabby.....please..”
“I wish Auntie Evergreen was here........”
“SO DO I!"
Kaisa stepped into the room from behind the arch and made a sign for quiet. For a moment she looked at the mother and daughter and felt the old familiar tension that family quarrels bring.
She wrapped an arm around Gabby and spoke in a low tone, “Do as your mother says dear. I could use a little help anyway with the babies.” Gabby gave up her resistance to the sweetness of the grandmother and the two swept out of the room padding away on bare feet. One down. Zena once again became aware of Bartak who sat shivering and whimpering in a puddle of cold stew. She observed him on the floor for a few silent moments and then made a decision with a long sigh. If he was possessed by the Furies than kindness was owed to him as a sacred duty. Anyway, he was spent and of no danger now to anyone. After stripping him of his rags, she pulled him to a chair and wrapped him in an old blanket the children used for playing Roman army. He curled into it and she left him by the fire. Two down and one to go.

Now was the time to clear the air with Red, while the household was in their beds. The back of the house was bathed in silver moonlight and the velvety sky showcased thousands of stars. One fell from the sky as she approached Red and burnt itself out overhead in celestial glory. It surprised her to see Red crouched on the ground and she softened somewhat at the sight. Phalon was bent forward to listen and Zena caught the the last sentance, ....”standin’ up ta Zena, I be a limpin’ sort o’ priestess withou’ me Triréad.”
“I think we need to clear this between us Red”, Zena spoke firmly as she sat down. She did not wish to stand above her or to indicate that a confrontation was desired. Her body was relaxed as she sat on the sand facing Red with arms on the knees of her bent legs. When Red was looking at her she began. “You follow a code that is different from ours. We have respected that, given you your space and we have found that you are worth ten times your weight as an ally.” Red brushed back her tears and nodded ascent. “But because we have thrown in together on this journey, our actions effect each other. Amazons do seek justice to avenge the wrong that is done to a member of the tribe. Our Greek bards sing songs of great heroes who have reclaimed their honor in that way and our gods demand it. Bartak in there is driven by the Furies to avenge his brother. He will call you yet to a battle.” She paused and looked up at the stars before she spoke again. When she gazed again at Red her jaw was set. “But, his brother and the men you slaughtered were incapacitated by sickness. We were free but you went back and killed unarmed men who could not have given you a fair fight. It was not justice. You have given us a reputation we do not want and which will bring us Roman attention. And for myself, although I appreciate what you have done for my child, I do not want you to teach her a code or a religion that is not of her heritage. She is Amazon and will be raised as Amazon. Am I clear?”

[Evergreen]

Living is Moving, Time Is a Live Creek
Bearing Changing Lights

-Annie Dillard

Evergreen awoke finding herself still cradled in the sheltering arms of the old fallen tree. Its thick branches held her as she slept wrapped in the colorful blanket that she imagined still contained the scent of the woman who gave it to her as she left for her journey away from all that she loved.

She shivered in the gray morning light and tried to recount the bothersome dream that visited her in the night while she slept. In the shadows of her dreamscape, a voice called to her, familiar and yet not recognizable to be putting a name to its caller.

Pulling the blanket in tight around her stiff shoulders, she sat for a moment listening to the sounds of the forest heralding in its primeval chorus the arriving daybreak. The world contained from within and above the forest floor was alive. The dark gray water of the creek gently tumbled on by as it hastened on its journey to meet the sea.

All things find their way to their greater belonging.

Evergreen smiled and was warmed by the thought of Zena quietly uttering the words as they stood shoulder to shoulder watching the great sea rush to the shore, caress it before retreating back and quickly returning to do it all over again like a child at play.

The sea… with senses now fully alert, the thought of the sea, its primal smell, the sound of it pounding on the rocks, the sight of birds large and small diving to steal a small treasure for a meal, became a notion that took on focus…a purpose.

Standing and stretching her small frame skyward, she began to sing, and in singing found a missing piece of her heart. In her mind, the words and tune were not of her own voice, but that of another. Such as the distant one calling to her in the night.

Evergreen sat on the log thanking it for its sheltering arms as she laced her boots and placed her sword in the scabbard before slinging the broad brown leather strap over her shoulder. She fingered the tool work and remembered the shy offering of it as a gift. Zena had a way for giving those things that not only came from her own hands, but from her heart.

With a twinge of sadness, Evergreen rolled up the blanket, saddled Whisperer and securely strapped the bedroll as not to be lost as the two companions traveled on…

Yes…to the sea…I will go to where all things find their greater belonging.

[gabbyfan4ever]

Gabby sat in the corner of the room forgotten for the moment. Zena had come home to Kaisa’s , but she brought with her anger and sadness from something not yet known. Everyone in the room had seen that as soon as she had walked in the door. Gabby once again left behind the hope of everything just being okay. She left behind how proud she had hoped Zena would be when she saw her walking on her own, and how much she had wanted them to have one of their lessons on Amazon tradition that night. She watched silently as the tension between Red and Zena became too much for her mother to keep inside. Gabby was not oblivious to it like they may have thought. It had been there, underneath the surface, ever since that day when a crimson eyed Bhen Rudha had beaten Evergreen within an inch of her life and sent her mother even closer. But Red was a friend to Gabby now, and the resentment grew as two people she cared about so much continued to butt heads. When Bhen Rudha left the house Zena turned her attention on her daughter telling her to go to bed. It was then that Gabby could no longer stay silent. All of the fears she had talked about with Red came out. All her fears of losing those she was close to, of getting left behind, of hurting the people she loved, and how much she missed her mother when she left.

“I AM NOT A CHILD.”, Gabby screamed at Zena
“ I know that….”
“You treat me like one… you don’t listen… you forget I exist!”
“I NEVER forget you!”
“You are NEVER here!” she said almost in tears.

Soon Kaisa came in and ended the yelling match with an arm around Gabby. She was confused and drained and quietly allowed herself to be lead away. Gabby hated fighting with her mother. She hated that Zena was upset, and hated how she had upset her mother more by yelling at her. She wished she was a good enough daughter to never make Zena upset, and to make her happy again when she was. She hated how Zena would leave without telling her, and she hated that she left at all. “I just want you to be here.” she finally whispered.

[BhenRudha]

Phalon was unaccustomed to seeing Bhen Rudha so lost . . . so broken. Normally towering over Phalon, now she seemed diminutive in her distress. Tears extinguished the ever present fire in her amber eyes, and Phalon reached out to wipe them away, wishing the gesture would wipe away the other woman’s . . .

Despair. Darkness. The blackness of it engulfed her, embracing her like an old acquaintance. She was comfortable with its familiarity, though it was not welcome, and she wondered vaguely, “Why now, after so long a time?”

Only one other time had she felt such a darkness surround her. She had been pierced, by hatred and steel, and fell to the forest floor. She had welcomed the dark because it promised her rest and renewal. But it had not been for her, and now she thought, “What have I done to fall again?”

The descent that came next too was familiar, slow at first, then more rapid, until soon she was plummeting uncontrollably down the dark, never ending, bottomless shaft.

She felt herself curled up tightly, as a babe nestled next to its mother, and wanted nothing so much as to sink forever into the smothering black. It took her pain, left her empty.

Something soft and featherlike brushed her cheek, and that startled her. It was unexpected - not part of the routine. The falling came to an abrupt end as she hit something soft. Wild flapping filled her ears, and the sound was deafening.

A voice called to her from a great distance. Heartbreaking and beloved, the words almost to small to hear, * . . . not . . . yet . . .*, and her descent slowed till she felt suspended, isolated from even herself.

Slowly she began to rise, and over the noise of flapping wings she heard . . .

The sound of a raven cawing in the distance brought her back from her deep dreamscape. Phalon pulled her hand back from Bhen Rhuda’s face, unsure who the dark vision belonged to. Was it the warrior woman’s, or was it her own from a time when her days were spent in the familiar bleakness? She flicked her gaze to the blue sky that filled the bowl over their heads, and could smell the first hint of frost in the crisp breeze whispering over the hill, reminding her to pull out her woolens when she got home.

A soft sigh brought Phalon’s eyes back to the one kneeling before her, and she thought for a long moment, perhaps remembering another time before she said, “You can be lost forever, Red, limping along, if you choose to forget. Slowly, everything you are, everything you stood for - your very soul will eventually wither to nothing. Remember though, and accept the things that are, embrace them as part of you, and the thing that you’ve lost will always be there. You even may find its never actually left.” She paused, looking into the other’s eyes and asked, “Why Red, did you stand up to Zena?”

The familiar song of the raven pulled her firmly away from the black and Bhen Rudha watched the small, pale hand fall away from her face. She lifted her eyes then to the seeress and watched with rapt attention as the other woman spoke. The words coiled through her mind, feeling familiar, like a lesson she had once been taught. She did not necessarily remember this teacher, but then, Bandroi called to other gods traveled all over Eriu, and perhaps this was just one she had seen once. When the question finally came, she puzzled over the meaning while she settled more comfortably on her knees. Frowning in thought, she spoke slowly in Gaeilge, “Oide, I know I am right. Is it not our way to protect those who cannot? Is it not our way to send to the Summerland those who threaten the lives we are sworn to protect? Is that not what the Goddess marked us for?”

[BhenRudha]

Phalon had only a vague awareness that Bhen Rudha was not speaking Greek. It did not matter, for she understood every word with clarity, the language residing as comfortably within her mind now as the one she had been raised with.

She was not sure though, if Bhen Rudha saw her, Phalon, or if she became another in Bhen Rudha’s eyes from a different place and time. When she answered the warrior’s question, she was not sure if the words were hers, though she spoke as if they were. “Is it, Fechine? You tell me. Never doubt what in your soul you know to be true.”

Bhen Rudha did not blink at the use of her old name, instead she lifted her hands, almost in supplication as she answered, “Oide, I tell you that I have done the Bandiá’s work. Those men were nothing more than common brigands, who have murdered in the name of greed, and have taken the innocence of countless women in the name of lust.” She motioned toward her father’s house as she continued, “And now I am being questioned as if I were the brigand. I do not understand.”

Pulling her summer tunic out of the way, Phalon knelt in the grass and answered softly, “A common brigand? No, no.” Phalon began in her own language, but continued in Gaeilge. The feeling that the thoughts behind the words, like the words themselves, were not quite her own grew, though she spoke without hesitation. She wondered if perhaps they were the words of the one Bhen Rudha saw, and thought that perhaps she would ask Islene when they returned. In the mean time, she continued, hoping that wherever the words came from, they were a help, “Not a brigand, no Fechine. Was it not you, who in your battle madness, set about the destruction of the Evil they faced? Was it not you who absorbed the pain of the little one there inside the house, and you who carries that pain inside you still? And the other one - the one with the yellow eyes like a wolf. Did you not devour her pain as well? They see, Fechine, their vision just may be blurred. Their ways are different than ours. I taught you that it is the Warrior who is closest to the Lady. Do you remember, Fechine?” She paused and Bhen Rudha nodded slowly, though they both knew it was a rhetorical question. Phalon finished, “Aye, good then. The Warrior is what you are. It is who you are.” She slipped into Greek and finished, “And the burden is on you to make them understand that.”

Bhen Rudha followed everything that the seeress was saying, until the unfamiliar words battered against her ears and she blinked in confusion. Slowly, from far away, understanding came . . . Greek, the words were Greek. She glanced at the sky, the hill, the grass and wondered why anyone would be speaking such a language in Eriu. But she was not in Eriu, her heart told her, this was the green of memory. Her eyes widened as she realized that Phalon was dressed in the manner of her people, in tunic and breeks, and that it was wrong. The pieces of the mystery fell into place, and suddenly she knew what she had done . . . in her despair and confusion, she had brought Phalon into her own Emerald Dream.

“An’ if’n I cannae, Phalon? Wha’ am I ta be doin’ then?” she asked, forcing the coarse words through her throat. “I be losin’ e’erythin’ when I be leavin’ Eriu, an’ I dinnae . . . I cannae . . .” she could not finish the thought, the weight of it too terrible for her to bear.

Phalon frowned at hearing Greek coming from Fechine, it sounded wrong here, in this place. Looking into the other’s eyes, Phalon felt the haze of borrowed memory lift, released now that Bhen Rudha realized who she was and where they were. Looking down she saw her own familiar clothes, instead of the garb that Red’s mind had provided for her. And with that moment of recognition, Phalon found that the Gaelic, that had once come so easily, faded to become something hovering just on the fringes of her mind.

She sighed, and began in her own familiar tongue, “Bhen Rudha, in this place . . .” She paused, raising her arms and spreading them wide. She closed her eyes for a moment and took in a deep breath of the cool, moist air. Opening her eyes, she smiled. “Beautiful. It is just how you described it Red . . . the Green. Just how I’d imagined it.” Once more a sigh escaped her lips, a resignation of sorts that the beauty of it would soon fade. She then continued, “In this place, your place, you are the Warrior. And it is right. In the place where Zena resides though - where we reside - the laws of the Amazons preside. In that place, the Amazon and the Warrior must coexist.”

A fine, cool mist started as Phalon spoke. Tendrils of soft gray fog crept towards them, reaching out and twining themselves around the kneeling figures in the mist. “The load is yours to bear, to make them understand. You will. You must.” The fog grew thicker now, completely encircling them. “As you do, though, do not . . . Never lose the Warrior. Do not forget the Bandroi an Cogadh.” It became increasingly difficult to see one another, the fog seeming to swallow them whole. Soon, even Phalon’s words seemed lost in the grayness, muted and faraway. “It is time, Red. Zena is waiting.”

Bhen Rudha knelt in her Emerald Dream alone.

[BhenRudha]

Never lose the Warrior . . . make them understand . . . Zena is waiting . . . Bhen Rudha knelt within the mist, thinking over Phalon’s words and wondering if she had the courage to return to the waking world.

The seeress was right. She was a warrior, the tattoo gave proof . . . and if she could not believe in the black stark against her skin, then she had nothing. She put her face in her hands, angry at her weakness, and breathed the remembered scents of home. It was so easy to be certain of her way here . . .

With a mix of resignation and fear, she released her hold on the Emerald Dream, returning to the waking world in time to see Zena sit down near by. “I think we need to clear this between us, Red,” The Amazon said firmly.

Bhen Rudha blinked until her eyes focused, knowing that the woman was not finished speaking. When Zena judged that she had gotten the other’s attention, she continued, “You follow a code that is different from ours. We have respected that, given you your space and we have found that you are worth ten times your weight as an ally.”

Already knowing where the Amazon’s words were going, she resisted a sigh, wiped at her face and nodded. True to her thoughts, Zena spoke on, “But because we have thrown in together on this journey, our actions effect each other. Amazons do seek justice to avenge the wrong that is done to a member of the tribe. Our Greek bards sing songs of great heroes who have reclaimed their honor in that way and our gods demand it. Bartak in there is driven by the Furies to avenge his brother. He will call you yet to a battle.”

Anger flushed slowly through the Red Woman as she realized that her words earlier had made no difference . . . she was being lectured anyway. Taking a calming breath, she watched Zena look to the stars for a moment before continuing, her mouth set in a firm line, “But, his brother and the men you slaughtered were incapacitated by sickness. We were free but you went back and killed unarmed men who could not have given you a fair fight. It was not justice. You have given us a reputation we do not want and which will bring us Roman attention. And for myself, although I appreciate what you have done for my child, I do not want you to teach her a code or a religion that is not of her heritage. She is Amazon and will be raised as Amazon. Am I clear?”

Crimson leaked back into her eyes, the monochrome vision bringing Zena’s face into sharp focus, and she struggled with her anger a long moment before she could speak. She knew this had been coming. Knew it as surely as she knew the sun rose in the East . . . and yet she had hoped . . .

. . . the burden is on you to make them understand, said Phalon, and Bhen Rudha wondered if this was going to be a challenge greater than defeating the entity Hatred. Taking a deep breath, feeling the presence of Phalon next to her, and taking some strength from it, she gathered her scattered thoughts and finally spoke, “An Amazon be concerned onla fer tha good o’ her tribe. Aye, I cen be understandin’ this. An’ yer stories o’ tha bravest o’ yer number must be grand ta be hearin’ on a cold winter night. Bu’ I be nae an’ Amazon.”

She held up her hand when Zena would speak, knowing that if she did not get this chance, she might have no other. “I be a Priestess o’ War, Zena. I be called by tha Goddess Morrigu ta be servin’ nea jest me family, bu’ tha whole o’ Eriu with tha gifts I be ha’en’.” Pain tightened her expression as she continued, “I be knowin’ this be nae Eriu . . . be knowin’ better than ye be thinkin’. An’ sae, if I be nae ta serve me homeland, then I hae ta be servin’ tha land tha’ be me home.

“Ye be sayin’ tha’ I be slaughterin’ those men fer nae reason. Be murderin’ them fer me own reasons. All I cen be sayin’ ta ye then be tha’ those men be steelin’ in tha name o’ greed, rapin’ in tha name o’ lust, an’ murderin’ in tha name o’ nothin’ bu’ their own whims.” She stood up, thumping her chest for emphasis, “I be stoppin’ them Zena. Nae honest man be fearin’ ta be losin’ his money or his life. An’ nae young girl be fearin’ ta be losin’ her . . .” fresh tears pricked her eyes, stinging, and she brushed them aside, “she cen be lookin’ forward ta her days bein’ a wife an’ mother withou’ knowin’ tha touch o’ a man tha’ care onla fer stealin’ a moment’s pleasure. I be savin’ them. Me.”

“But the Romans,” Zena tried to say again, her own jaw remaining set.

“Ye be thinkin’ ye be tha onla ones ta be knowin’ tha cruelty o’ tha Romans?” The ragged cry of a raven sounded in the distance, punctuating her bitter question. Bhen Rudha flinched at the sound, but doggedly continued, “Me own parents be buried under a storm o’ Roman arrows, jest outside o’ their home. I be seein’ their deaths from me Máthair’s Witch, a’fore tha raven left fer tha Summerland. Me one sister be tha one who be claimin’ their murders. An’ when I be aimin’ fer vengeance, I be captured an’ sold inta slavery ta a Roman.”

She fell silent, waiting for a response, something that said it was all right. When the tension did not ebb, but remained, Bhen Rudha sighed, turned away and hung her head. . . . the Amazon and the Warrior must coexist . . . Phalon’s words echoed hollowly as she spoke softly, “I dinnae be tryin’ ta be teachin yer daughter anathin’. I jest be answerin’ her questions. If’n ye be talkin’ ta her, ye could be answerin’ her questions tae. Ye were nae here, an’ I could nae be watchin’ her cry withou’ helpin’. I be hopin’ ye cen be understandin’ tha’ at least.” She clenched her hands tight into fists, waiting for the explosion she was sure would come.

In that moment, a raven called again, followed by a deeper answer and Bhen Rudha flinched, staring wildly into the star-filled sky. Were the remaining sisters going to call her into account now as well? Soft reproach came with the whisper of wind and feathers whipping past her cheek and she spun around, shouting angrily to the sky, “Be findin’ some other Bandroi! I cannae be fer ye! One o’ yer number died . . .”

*Sister . . .* said a raven through the layers of grief and rage.

“Red, stop . . .” Phalon said softly, standing to place gentle hands on Bhen Rudha’s shoulders.

“I cannae be fer ye,” the Red Woman said again, her voice breaking as she wrenched herself out of the seeress’ grip and took off running. Her long legs carried her into the darkness quickly, outdistancing those who might have followed.

She ran for a long time.

[Zena]

As she gave her position Zena wondered if Red was listening to her. She had the glazed look that Gabby sometimes had when she was teacing her Amazon history. Then Red stood, every muscle tight like a bow string, and Zena stood too. Diplomacy had evidently been a failure and now Zena would not allow Red to take a dominant position. They faced each other in the manner that Zena had seen the wrestlers adopt at the games. Neither backed off from their position and neither would give the other an advantage. But, she had expected more conversation than actually occurred. Phalon had made an attempt to connect with the priestess but Red spoke her piece and departed, her footfalls light and swift in the warm evening air.

Greeks debate. Socrates and Plato encouraged it at Athens and the educated among the Amazons carried the practice back to the tribal councils. Zena herself had seen and admired it the year she and Evergreen had gone to Athens to see the games. She liked the way everything was opened for discussion and no dark or hidden corners were left in the conversations. Perhaps this was not the practice in Eiru Zena thought to herself. Many things, evidently, were different there.

She shifted her weight from one hip to the other and turned her head slowly toward Phalon. Phalon met Zena’s gaze and Zena finished the thoughts she had held for Red. “I see little difference between Red’s justice and the Pax Romana. Can we go around the country killing every brigand without a fair trial?” She folded her arms across her chest and with a sigh looked down at the moonbeams brushing the sandy soil. “We are no better than the thugs then...no better than the Romans.”

Phalon raised her hand to touch Zena’s arm but the Amazon stepped back. She had noticed that Red and Phalon seemed to have developed some kind of understanding. “Phalon, I have no claim on you. You are not Amazon. Do what you think is right for you. Go where you think you will be happy. As for Xie and Gabby and myself we must return to our way of life. We do not belong here.” She took a deep breath and continued. “Red is right in one respect."
Zena glanced toward the warm and inviting little house. “I have neglected Gabby and I should be with her to answer her questions and teach her the Amazon ways.”

As they stood together in the shaft of moonlight Phalon waited for Zena to mention the name of one more Amazon. The name hung in the air, made more obvious by its absence. Zena unfolded her arms, brushed her tunic free of the dust of the yard and turned toward the doorway. As she did so she allowed her fingers to lightly come in contact with Phalon’s shoulder, knowing that in doing so all would be wordlessly revealed.

[Sumire]

Sumire had long since stopped glancing behind her for Blackwolf. She knew that she would not see her, although she could feel the unseen eyes scan across her back every now and then. Blackwolf followed the same path she took but for some reason had decided to hang back. Perhaps she was guarding their passage through the wood and back through the village. Sumire felt too tired and wounded to worry about it much. The fact that Blackwolf was close by was somewhat of a comfort and it helped encourage her return to Kaisa’s house.

Wondering briefly at what she would find on her return to the house she smirked and chided herself silently. It was late enough in the evening that she probably missed the bustle before dinner – and perhaps by now the little ones were put to bed. Returning unnoticed would be unlikely. What would she say? How would she explain herself and her appearance? Why was she bothering to return at all?

Because it was a direction.

Blackwolf had saved her from her fading mind. And now she was returning to some place she didn’t feel she belonged either. But at least it was something; a reed to grasp while she floundered in the listless stream that was her life. She wondered how long she would last, broken as she was.

The weight of her heart with it’s burden of recent memories having been denied so long caused her pace to slacken the closer she came to the house. None would know what she had just tried to do, or why, but she felt she could not raise her eyes to anyone.

She knew she would though. It would simply be another act in the play: wear the mask until the curtains are drawn.

It was a moment before she realized had stopped, and that she could no longer feel Blackwolf’s watchful gaze and that she could hear voices close by coming from outside Kaisa’s house.

She could not understand the words, but she could hear enough that the words were charged with tension. She thought that perhaps she should go around to the front of the house and let the scene unfold – but then realized she needed to know what was happening. It could possibly inform her on how she should comport herself within the group. After letting go a breath she took enough steps that she began to distinguish the voices. It was Bhen Rudha’s voice that was most prevalent.

Relying on a courtly skill that came as instinct, she placed herself within earshot of the conversation but just out range of immediate notice. She found the perfect distance of hiding in plain sight. Had any of them looked up and turned their heads a little they would see her off to the side a bit. Remaining an unobtrusive distance she stood and observed, and tried to understand.

It was Zena and the Red woman arguing. Sumire heard and understood what Zena said clearly but when the Red woman spoke again her accent and emotion were so thick that it made it hard to understand –even so, Sumire could tell this was no mere argument. There was something more here than the trading of angry words.

If there had been any question in Sumire’s mind if Zena had been the leader of this clutch of women, that was erased as the bearing of a leader settled within Zena as she and Bhen Rudha rose facing each other. She was challenging the Red one’s actions not only concerning brigands but her ways. There was a burden on the one called Bhen Rudha as she strived to communicate.

The depth of emotion that welled in the Red woman’s thick words was more than simple accounting for her actions before Zena’s authority. This was not the desperate appeal of someone being held accountable, it was not the simple countering of an accusation; it was a declaration of duty…of belief in a destiny.

Sumire, all too well acquainted with the raw timbre heard in her own words, knew the sound of a heart breaking when she heard ‘I cannae be fer ye!’. She could not know exactly what the Red woman spoke of, yet it struck resonance and Sumire suddenly felt ashamed for having witnessed something so candid. Bhen Rudha had screamed to the sky just as Sumire had when she screamed “Norowareta!!” Where they both cursed, then?

Sumire’s mind would have likely slipped to thinking of destiny and curses but she was surprised by Bhen Rudha and had to step quickly aside to avoid a collision. Her first instinct was to call after her but she could manage no more than a quietly whispered “Matte” Wait.

She turned back and saw that Zena now spoke to Phalon. The tension had not faded with the Red woman’s absence, but it seemed redirected now. Something lingered in the air as Zena spoke of her traditions and gathering her family to her and leaving as they did not belong. Did no one have a place to belong?

Glancing over her shoulder Sumire thought fleetingly of the Red woman and then of herself. She looked down at her clothing, more suited to attack and flight within the shadows. She remembered the last task that had been given to her before she left Jappa.

Taking a breath she stepped in the direction of Zena and Phalon, back to the house.

[Phalon]

“Red, stop . . .” Phalon said softly, standing to place gentle hands on Bhen Rudha’s shoulders.

Bhen Rudha broke free from Phalon’s grasp and ran from the courtyard. Phalon moved to follow, but stopped short of the gate, hearing the caw of the ravens once more. “No”, she thought to herself. “This, she has got to do on her own.” Softly, speaking to no one but the cool air of the night, she said, “Do not lose yourself, Fechine.” She slowly turned from the gate to face Zena.

The events of the day, now all at once, took their toll on her, and she was overcome with weariness that crept into her limbs and made her head throb. Zena started to speak, and it seemed to Phalon to lack any of the compassion that she knew the other woman held in her heart. Her mind had already been made up concerning Bhen Rudha’s actions, and it seemed nothing would change it.

“Zena…” Phalon lifted her arm towards the Amazon, but was left grasping at air as Zena took a step back. “Ah”, Phalon thought. “She thinks I’ve aligned with Red. Why must divisions always be made? Why must there always be a clear-cut right and wrong. Doesn’t she see? Didn’t she listen?”

“Phalon, I have no claim on you”, Zena continued. “You are not Amazon. Do what you think is right for you. Go where you think you will be happy. As for Xie and Gabby and myself we must return to our way of life. We do not belong here.”

The words bit into Phalon like so many tiny daggers. “There it is”, Phalon said to herself. “I am not Amazon. As far as Zena is concerned, the lines have been drawn, and I am standing on the other side.”

She waited, with slim hope, to see if Evergreen’s name would be mentioned. When it wasn’t, it was of little surprise. She already knew in her heart that Evergreen would not be returning, but Zena brushed Phalon’s shoulder as she turned towards the door to confirm what she had suspected.

At once she felt Zena’s overwhelming loss and sadness over losing her sister. That emotion quickly faded though, overlapped by other images from Zena’s recent memory…the look on Evergreen’s face as Zena told her she must leave, and the slap on hindquarters as she propelled horse and rider far away from their family…Tears welling in Gabby’s eyes. “You don’t listen… you forget I exist! You are NEVER here!” And Bhen Rudha screaming fiercely towards the sky, “I cannae be fer ye,” These images swirled like a kaleidoscope in Phalon’s mind.

In her state of exhaustion, Phalon let these images overcome her. She clenched her fists, felt the heat rise in her body, and felt as her head where going to explode. As Zena reached for the door to let herself back into the house, Phalon spun towards her, her emotions out of check. She let her words fly like a barrage of arrows towards a target. “Why must you always be so rigid…so unrelentingly unyielding?! You are always so damned Tartarus bent on protecting your precious Amazon code”, she practically hissed the words, “that you are doing exactly what you’ve accused Bhen Rudha of doing – playing both the judge and jury. The world is not just made up of black and white, Zena, and your refusal to see that amazes me. You are walking with blinders on, focused on only one thing – your Amazon way, and refusing to accept anything else. Rigid, unyielding, inflexible and stubborn. Do Gabby a favor…When you’re teaching her to be a good little Amazon, leave that part out.”

She regretted the words as soon as she uttered them – wishing she could take them back. Even with only the pale moon lighting Zena's face, Phalon saw the color drain from it. Phalon, herself, was as shocked as Zena at her outburst. One of the very things she’d admired most about the woman – her strong convictions, now caused her to speak out of anger and frustration. “Zena…I…I’m sor…”

Zena cut her off, her jaw firmly set, and mouth in a grim line. “Goodnight, Phalon.”

The door opened and slammed, leaving Phalon standing alone in the moonlit courtyard, her eyes screwed shut, palms pressed hard against her temples, and fingers tightly woven through her hair. In the quiet, she heard the light footfalls behind her. Red? she wondered.

She turned and smiled weakly at the courtyard’s newest occupant. "Sumire."

[Evergreen]

The dawn light quickly blossomed into the afternoon sun. Evergreen guided Whisperer up and around a small stand of trees with her arm brushing the boughs from their path. The leather saddle creaked and groaned as they traversed a small incline. Pebbles slipped and fell away beneath them, but the sure footed companion never faltered.

Mounting a small ridge, Evergreen looked down at the winding road that lay before them. She leaned over and patted the muscular neck inhaling the scent of the horse. A soft breeze blew through the trees and touched the traveler’s face as a cool caress. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth to speak a name but lost it in the gentle wind.

The reverie was broken by the rumble of Evergreen’s stomach. She suddenly realized that she had eaten little. Minding not that she had any appetite before this day, but this was indeed a new dawn, a new time, a new beginning. Returning to Zena was no longer a choice. Her choices had brought her exactly to this moment and time and she would do whatever the gods, and Zena, willed for her to keep her sisters safe from the harm she had led to their very door.

On the small meandering road below the rise, Evergreen watched a single ox drawn wagon roll about on two large uneven wooden wheels. A solitary figure, stooped over with a shawl covering the driver’s head, cracked a short string of leather from a long reed thin pole. The driver never struck the beast but vocalized a sharp yip as the end of the leather snapped high above the animal’s head. The back of the cart appeared to contain cask of one size or another and apparently empty from the way they freely rolled back and forth as the cart bumped along the pitted roadway.

The imminent disaster was clearly seen from Evergreen’s vantage point but the driver never saw it until it was too late to avoid. The wheel took a forward roll into a deep rut, snapped sharply, and sat askew. It was evident the cart was disabled and would take more than the slight form driving it to upright it-if it indeed could be done.

“Yah!” Click,click… and with a swift kick of her heels into Whisperer’s sides, Evergreen bolted down the rise towards the wagon. She quickly swung to the ground running to towards the drive that had disembarked and was looking over the situation at hand. To her surprise, the driver, an old woman long in years, whirled around, and in one swift motion, greeted her with a pitchfork aimed directly at her ribs.

“Git back ye thief.” she said with a lunge. “I havin’ nothin’ ye be needin’ off me cart. The last hooligans already took what little dinars I got for the wine, took off with what full cask I had leftin over and be leavin’ me with them empties,” she said as she nodded her snow white head towards the back of the cart.

Evergreen laughed as she raised her hands in mock surrender and took a step backwards and made the Amazon sign of recognition. The pitchfork was taller and most likely out weighed its wielder. It occurred to her that if she blew a strong breath, her attacker would topple over.

The old woman looked at the oddly dressed woman with deep dark eyes and hair to match with silver threaded throughout like stones she had seen in the mountains. She noted that the eyes were softened with crinkles from the large grin on the tan but gaunt face. The woman before her, although most likely capable from the looks of her solid stance, would not easily step a way from a challenge, was quickly surmised to be of no real threat of harm to her.

Looking at the broken wheel and then back at the stocky, but well honed body of the woman at the end of her pitchfork, the old woman knew a good trade when she saw it…and she knew a hungry face when she saw one.

Slowly lowering her weapon of choice, she reached out and extended gnarled fingers in supplication and greeting.

Evergreen reached out and grasped the hand and was surprised at the strength of her grip. She silently wondered if this woman had the blood of Amazon ancestors coursing through the distended purple veins on the back of her withered hand. Nodding at the woman, she announced herself. “A pleasure to meet you grandmother. I am called Evergreen.”

“Likewise warrior woman” she said finding the hand locked with hers incongruously powerful yet gentle. “I be known as Atma.”


Edited to fix font. ~~Joxcee~~

[Sumire]

Phalon turned and smiled weakly at the courtyard’s newest occupant. "Sumire", she said.

After what she had just witnessed Sumire was unsure of what kind of reception she would get, but it mattered little at this point, it seemed like Phalon was deeply troubled. Even so, she was a little surprised to find that Phalon was smiling at her. The smile was tired and weary of whatever this evening had brought. Sumire found a kindling of warmth for Phalon’s effort for she found that she was doing the same thing.

“Falon-san.” She had been approaching timidly but now, after Phalon had acknowledged her, she walked quickly towards the other woman. “Please forgive my intrusion… I do not know what has happened here… but are you all right?” She tilted her head as she looked at Phalon. The smile her hostess offered was reassurance, but that too was tired.

Phalon began to shake her head, “Yes, well.. No. I mean.. I think we’ve seen been better—” She let a deep sigh escape her lips. “A lot has happened today, Sumire…and on top of everything else, I fear I’ve been too harsh with Zena. I’ve questioned her abilities as a fair leader, but worse, questioned her ability as a mother to teach Gabby. And I’m sorry you had to witness that.”

Sumire had let her finger tips rest on Phalon’s elbow, ready to lend a firm grip should assistance be necessary. Phalon’s brow furrowed as, through the lightness of Sumire’s touch, she could sense the woman’s relief. Relief? No… respite. There was concern over Phalon’s stress, the flickerings of drama between Red and Zena and after, Zena and Phalon seen from a short distance… All of this had been viewed and taken in hungrily as a respite, a desirable alternative to—something else.

Beyond Sumire’s desire to assist (although very unsure how) was a forced distance. And beyond that distance loomed something that seemed like a deep well choked with something black and poisonous that wanted to bubble up from its depths and spill over the edges. Broken half images came from across the gap, and before the accompanying emotion could also reach across the distance Phalon moved her free hand to gently lift Sumire’s hand from her opposite elbow. The new contact brought images of weaponry -half-gloves that had metal claws that extended from them, small knives perfectly shaped for throwing, longer thin knives expertly tucked into concealed folds of a tunic…

Quickly Phalon pulled away from Sumire before she saw any more. Don’t touch me! Phalon had wanted to scream. Not now…it’s too much. It’s just too much right now. Instead she managed to simply hiss through gritted teeth and shake her head.

For the first time since she entered the courtyard she really looked at Sumire. Sumire saw the shift in Phalon’s gaze and anticipated her to comment on the way she was now dressed, so different from the loose fitting hakama pants or even the kimono which Phalon last saw her wearing. Instead Phalon just raised an eyebrow, perhaps too distraught with whatever worries occupied her mind, or perhaps, through the contact, she already suspected Sumire was not quite what she first appeared to be.

Sumire had been observing Phalon as well, taking in as many of the small details, trying to piece together what she could by Phalon’s _expression and bearing. She seemed a little more bedraggled than usual –something was splattered on her and it smelled to Sumire like it was food. Had there been a scuffle or something? Perhaps she was injured? Before Sumire could ask, Phalon took a step back, avoiding additional contact.

Sumire was not so much surprised as confused at Phalon’s reaction. A bruise then? Her touch had been so light that it would be a very tender wound she would have troubled.

The night before, Sumire might have recoiled, apologized profusely and turned to run away and make her miserable existence scarce after such a blunder. Right now she was at a point where no matter how confused or frustrated she was at her clumsiness, she dare not distance herself. The need to help to learn what had happened was eclipsed by the sudden realization that she could not stand to be alone.

Attempting to numb herself from such a weak position another thought came to her. Her debt to Kageyama: Even if she kept to that task; to bring back what powers the warrior woman called Zena had –it might mean she would make an enemy of some these women –if not all. Yet, if the women fought amongst themselves that might make things easier; all she needed to do was find out whom to ally herself with. Phalon? Bhen Rudha? Blackwolf perhaps? And didn’t Phalon just mention the young one, Gabby, was daughter to Zena? Practical considerations dictated that it would serve her to get close to these women and Zena in particular… but right now, in this very moment, she could not deny that it served her being more to be needed. At that point that a distant memory insinuated itself You are precious to your family of sisters here. The words stung and she felt she could not trust them.

A familiar ache began to bother her. Shaking herself from the whirlwind of thought and voices long gone, she made a deep bow and whispered “Gomen nasai, Falon-san! Please, I- I mean no offense. I am clumsy and I do not belong but I wish to help. Please let me help. Onegai Falon-san.” She eventually looked up and in her plea and lifted her hand instinctively before she stopped it midway between them.

===

translations...
Gomen nasai = "I'm sorry."
Onegai = "Please."

[Zena]

The door slammed at her back, the thick wood muffling the end of Phalon’s sentence. Zena stood just inside the sleeping room, her jaw locked and her lips pressed together. She looked down and realized that her fists were clenched and the last breath she had taken outside was growing stale inside her chest. “How could you, Phalon? How could you of all people not see the greater vision?” Slowly the stopped breath left her opened lips and with it the facade of strength. Her squared shoulders sagged and the her now opened hands came up together to run through her damp hair. The dark curls snapped around her fingers and she grabbed two handfuls and tugged in frustration. If she wasn’t so bone-tired weary she would run..hard and fast and far away. No, that was a child’s answer. “But what is the answer?” she murmured to herself.

Wearily she sat down on the bedroll she had spread beside Gabby’s cot. Her simple clothing took only a small space beside her and as she pulled off the worn boots she shook off the dried mud and stew that had gathered on the sole. “I smell like Ergo” she thought, as she pulled a blanket around her. Next to her thigh she tucked her sword in it’s sheath, taking some comfort in it’s familiar presence. The fire was low and there was little light but Zena could see the outline of Gabby’s body with the gentle rise and fall that matching the young woman’s breathing pattern. She watched her daughter for awhile and then rested her forehead on her knees and sighed. A thousand thoughts bobbed up to the surface of her consciousness and then sank into it’s depths. “How could everything go wrong all at the same time? I am raising Gabby the way I was raised, the code of the Amazon Nation worked just fine for Evergreen and for me. It saved our lives! Is Evergreen safely on the road to Thrace? The Romans are still so close. If they knew Red had murdered those men... Phalon isn’t much of a seeress, she can’t see beyond her own preference for Red. I’ve lost two friends this night and maybe made an enemy. Perhaps it is time for us to go our separate ways. They don’t understand the code, and they don’t understand ME. I have never felt so alone and so misunderstood....so out of the tribe.” She lay back on the bedroll and threw one arm over her eyes to press back the tears of frustration that burned her lids. “At least, it can’t get any worse than this.” The emotional battle finally exhausted her completely and in the silence of deepest night she dozed.

[Vassaly]

Zena watched the soft glow of the embers as they slowly ebbed out their life and wanting that they would take the worries from her mind with their dying. She again glanced at Little Gabby and wished for her peaceful sleep and continued hopeful dreams of the life they had planned. So much had happened, had changed. She longed for Evergreen’s comforting presence, a gentle arm around her weary shoulders that would speak of understanding without any words. The fire flickered and popped with the last of the logs breaking into glowing orange and white shards.

“At least, it can’t get any worse than this.” The emotional battle finally exhausted her completely and in the silence of the deepest night she dozed.

Bam…Bam…Bam… !

The door reverberated with purposeful pounding that echoed throughout the still house.

Bam…Bam…Bam !

“What now?” Zena said to no one as she wearily sighed and uttered an inaudible oath. Little Gabby stirred beneath her coverlet. Zena gently brushed soft wisps of hair from the sleeping girl’s forehead and soothed her saying, “Shush…Shush…it’s okay. Go back to sleep little one.”

The door rattled as the insistent night visitor shook the heavy metal latch that secured the door. Zena stood and walked towards the intrusive sound nearly colliding with Kaisa who did not see her as she focused on tying the sash of her robe.

Bam…Bam…Bam !

Kaisa stilled Zena’s hand as she reached to remove the large latch from the door.

“Wait…could be Romans…step to the left… away from the window.” Kaisa whispered as she pulled back the curtain to see what the night had brought to their door.

“By the gods…"! she swore as she nodded for Zena to lift the latch.

The door flew open knocking Zena off balance.

“YOU!” the intruder hissed grabbing the neck of Zena’s tunic with a surprisingly swift motion pushing her up against the wall with a thud. She found herself looking into blazing gray eyes with intensity of purpose that the warrior woman knew meant no quarter would be given. The forearm pushing into her throat cut off her air and she struggled to speak.

“Vah...vah…Vasally?”


Edited to fix font. ~~Joxcee~~

[Zena]

Her head cracked against the stone wall behind her and as her eyes refocused she saw Vasally swim into view. The forearm against her throat surprised her for a moment. Zena had not thought of Vassally as an attacker but since that was how she was now presenting herself, that is how she would be delt with. Zena’s arm swung powerfully up between their bodies in an arc and came down over the top of Vassally’s pushing it away and securing it faster than Vassaly could think. It was but a few grains more through an hour glass and Zena had turned her around and had her tightly restrained. The Amazon dropped the innkeeper to the floor and they sat in tandem on the stones.
“By Athena, have you lost your wits? I could have killed you before I knew who you were!"
Vassaly struggled in Zena’s hold like a bird in a snare.
“Let...me....go...you have no right to hold me.”
“Right? Uh...I have every right to stop you from choking me. Ouch..Settle down or we’ll sit here until the rooster crows."
Kaisa stayed away from Vassaly’s kicking legs and made an attempt to be soothing. She leaned in as far as she dared and said in her low, gentle voice, “What is it you want dear?”

[Vassaly]

Vassaly struggled in Zena’s hold like a bird in a snare.

“Let...me....go...you have no right to hold me.”

“Right? Uh...I have every right to stop you from choking me. Ouch...Settle down or we’ll sit here until the rooster crows.”

Kaisa stayed away from Vassaly’s kicking legs and made an attempt to be soothing. She leaned in as far as she dared and said in her low, gentle voice, “What is it you want dear?”

“Tell her to let me go and I will tell you!" Vassaly shouted at Kaisa.

"Let go of me! Haven’t you already done enough damage?”

Vassaly continued to struggle, but as her raged subsided, so did her strength. And with a deep sigh, she looked up at Kaisa and pleaded, “Please…just tell her…to let me go…let me go.” And with the last of the words, she ceased to fight with her captor.

Kaisa looked at Zena as she touched the top of the defeated woman’s head. Softly she said, “Let her go Zena, its over.”

Zena unlocked her arms and threw them above her head. “Go…but if you start up again, I’ll take down to the floor and keep you there until you tell me what this is all about.” Zena in one swift leap was on her feet. Looking down at the woman whose head now rested on her knees sobbing uncontrollably.

Give me your hands and I’ll lift you up.” Zena extended her strong hands towards the woman on the floor.

Vassaly’s head flew up as if her anger were about to resurface, but left as quickly as it was recalled.

“No” she whispered softly, “I won’t be needing your help. Your help hurts.”

Zena pulled a chair from the table, turned it around and sat down with her arms folded across the top rung. Weariness was etched into her face.

Kaisa held out a hand to Vassaly who took it as she was lifted up from the cold stone floor. She smoothed out her dress and brushed her hand through her blonde hair.

“I’m waiting.” Zena watched as the woman standing in front of her wiped tears from her face as she regained her determined composure.

Slowly…deliberating on the exact words to convey the depth of her loss, Vassaly focused on Zena’s eyes.

“You sent her away… away from her family of sisters, away from all that matters to her, away from you…” and hesitating as tears begin to freely fall once again…”away from me.”

Zena was cut off as she tried to reply. “No…just stop. Do you know what it is like to wait for something your whole life? To wake every morning thinking that perhaps this is the day the emptiness inside will be gone?"

I have watched every entering of the Inn’s door…looking…listening for the voice I hear in my dreamscape. And finally, one day, I heard it. I looked up and she was there. I cannot explain it...” Vassaly paused as if in searching thought.

“It has no words, no name” she now calmly continued. “Its not that I love her more than you, Zena…just…”

Vassaly paused again searching for what she wished to say as to be understood… "in a different way.”

“And now she is gone and for what reason?”

Zena stood rubbing her hands over her face trying to subdue her anger at having to defend her actions, her decision to keep all of them safe.

“The reason, dear Vassaly, is a legion of destruction west of this village…” Zena fought to contain her exasperation at all of the events of the day.

Vassaly began to laugh and shook her head.

“So you think…so you think…but just how wrong you are. This afternoon a Centurion sat drinking away the day. And with more the ale, the looser his tongue became.”

The woman had now crossed over to what remained of the fire and stared down into the orange glow.

Slowly turning to face the Amazon leader, Vassaly spoke with a strong, even tone.

“Your threat, Zena has vanished into the mist. The soldier told of Leara’s mother crossing the River Styx into the gates of Hades in her sleep. No one’s is searching for Evergreen any longer. And, Apollonarius? An assassin in his ranks sent him along to escort the old woman.”

Vassaly walked to the door, raised the latch, and without looking back softly stated, "They are all gone…back to Rome. Evergreen is gone, but by the gods, Zena, I will find her- and there will be nothing, short of ending my life, you can do to stop me.”

The door slammed shut and the visitor retreated into the early morning light.

Edited to fix font. ~~Joxcee~~

[Phalon]

Her head reeled. It had taken a lot of Phalon to stay focused and in control when she was pulled into Bhen Rudha’s dreamscape. It sapped her strength and left her drained. As a result, she’d gotten irritable with Zena, spoke out of turn and immediately regretted it. Apologies could be made, but words could not be taken back.

The images of the day all at once let loose and flooded her mind like a river overflowing its banks after a storm. Everything - the images of Evergreen she’d received at Vassaly’s inn this morning, the realization that it was the sword of Bartok’s brother’s – his dead brother killed by Red, that was strapped on her back – a sword that showed her visions of senseless bloodletting, Red’s pain, Zena’s pain - everything – every image, every vision she’d had that day, swirled in her tired mind now. It was overwhelming and she began to feel that familiar sense of disorientation she’d get in large crowds when the images from others’ lives flew at her, assaulting her from all sides.

She knew she appeared rude to Sumire, to keep pulling away when the other woman only wanted to help. But there was a blackness surrounding Sumire’s touch – something just below the surface, that Phalon knew would wage war inside her head if she delved any deeper. She did not want to see – not now – it would be too much for her to bear. What little she did see of Sumire’s life from the brief contact was enough, and those images joined the others in the assault going on in her head.

Closing her eyes, she knew, would not make the images disappear, but she did so anyway. Losing balance, she began to totter. Again came Sumire’s plea, “Onegai. Please Phalon, let me help.”

She opened her eyes and tried to focus on Sumire’s. Her eyes, full of concern, were nearly black and the moon reflected in them lent them the appearance of deep liquid pools. All at once, as if a mask were placed over those eyes, the pools turned hard, icy and impenetrable. Phalon knew this was the look Sumire would have if she’d allowed herself to see into the darkness surrounding her. Feeling as if her legs were about to give way, she closed her eyes and shook the imagined vision away. “Please, Falon-san”.

Phalon tried to muster a smile, but the look that appeared on her face was more of a grimace. Steeling herself against what would come from the contact, “Will you help me into the house”, she asked, reaching for Sumire’s outstretched arm.

* * *

She sensed something was wrong as soon as they entered the house. Instinctively, she reached for the sword, her hand resting on its hilt, ready to unsheathe the stolen blade. Sumire sensed it too, and Phalon could feel her every muscle tense as a cat’s would, ready to pounce.

The room was dark, only a soft shaft of moonlight filtering in through the windows. As their eyes adjusted to the darkness, they saw on the opposite side of the room an intruder pin Zena against the wall.

“YOU!”

Phalon let go of her sword, still in its resting place at her back, recognizing the voice coming from across the room directed at Zena. She squeezed Sumire’s arm, shaking her head, and held her back. “Wait”, she mouthed the word, hoping Sumire could understand her in the darkness.

Quietly, they watched the brief struggle, heard the sobs, the accusations, the door slam, and a long sigh escape from Zena. It was only when the room was silent once more, that Phalon spoke softly. “Zena? You okay?”

[Zena]

Phalon’s voice quivered a bit with the emotion she was feeling. It was one of the things that Zena liked about Phalon, she could let her body show her inner movements. The Amazon remained in place, her chin resting on her hands which lay across the top of the old wooden chair. Only her eyes moved to the left to take in Phalon and Kaisa, standing like reflections of each other in the dim light. “How very alike they are. I wonder why I had not seen it until now” Zena pondered.
Phalon asked again, a little stronger now, “You ok?”

Zena sat up slowly, almost painfully, to answer. She had to clear her throat, as it seemed to be a little swollen inside from Vassaly’s forearm. “Ummm. Yes. Maybe...no. It hasn’t been a good night as nights go.” She looked at Kaisa. “How old is Vassaly?” “Why Zena dear, I don’t recall.” Kaisa looked at Phalon for help. “Do you know?” “Never mind,” Zena cut the answer short. “She seems to think that I ordered Evergreen to go. There is the small matter of our godsgiven free will. If Evergreen had wanted to stay, no power on earth or in Zeus’ heaven would have moved her to leave. The greater good was on her mind as it is on mine. We make our decisions in life based on what we know from moment to moment. I know we did what was right at the time we did it. Anyway, I am not even sure that the Evergreen I saw this afternoon was the same woman Vassaly knew. If what she said was true and the Roman threat is truly gone, we can leave you and the family in peace, Kaisa. We have enjoyed your gracious hospitality and the warmth of your hearth, may the goddess bless you for that kindness. In the morning I will gather what is mine and follow Evergreen. My family, like yours, must be reunited.”
“And Vassaly?” Kaisa wondered aloud.
“Free will, Kaisa. To go, to come, to follow. We Greeks are a free people and Amazons grant this also to women. She will do as she pleases and I have no right to prevent her from her path.” Wearily she stood up and swung her bare leg over the chair. She gazed at mother and daughter tenderly and then added in a voice that was strained not just from the bruising of her throat, “I want to go home.” She padded off to her bedroll for a possible hour of sleep before the journey.

[Blackwolf]

I followed Sumire at a distance, giving her the distance that I felt that she wanted, and giving me a chance to think about the change that had occurred back in the clearing. She had gone from a woman that needed protecting to a warrior in the blink of an eye. The way she had handled the knives as she hid them about her body spoke of long experience and use. Why I had not seen it before was beyond me. Watching her in the fading light, it was easy to see that she was a warrior through and through, though it did not appear that she was very happy about it. Truthfully, she had seemed quite distraught and upset ever since I had woken her up.

I thought back to the dream, if that's what it was, that she had been having. I had entered into it, and viewed her chasing what seemed like a fox. Even now, I am not sure why I decided to stop her from catching the fox, only that I had felt a need to do so. I had chosen the figure of a wolf to stop her because it was a large animal that provoked no argument while at the same time not being so large as to instill fear. That last thing that I had wanted was to have her running in the opposite direction in a world that was not my own. Also, considering there was another animal already there, it wouldn't take a great stretch of imagination to have a wolf there. Other than that, the wolf was what I was most comfortable with.

I continued to follow Sumire at a discreet distance as we walked back to Kaisa's house. I heard the raised voices long before Sumire did, and stepped off the path we had been following. I knew Sumire too had stopped, but my attention was no longer on her. Obviously more had happened while I was gone, and its effects were now being held in the backyard of Kaisa's. Red was talking about who she was, and why she had done what she'd done. A quick sniff of the air told me that both Zena and Phalon were out there also. I didn't know what had started this conversation, but I could feel the tension that surrounded the three women as though I was right beside them instead of deep in the trees.

Just as I was about to step onto the path again, the cry of a raven split the night air. I quickly glanced up and saw the figure of a raven land in a tree not far from where I was standing. Reaching out with my mind, I confirmed what I had figured. It was one of BhenRudha's ravens. I had not seen them since the fight with Kedos, and I was glad to see them again. I searched for the other one that I knew was nearby, and saw it circling overhead. Reaching out with my mind, I said "It's good to see you two again. How's it been?"

As soon as I thought the words, I wish I could have recalled them. They had just lost a sister not to long ago, and now it seemed as Red didn't want them anymore. The ravens did not answer my stupid question, but I did feel pain and grief coming from both of them. I nodded my head in understanding and continued to stand where I was. I listened to the conversation coming from the back of Kaisa's house. Red was now talking about teaching Gabby, or as the case was, not teaching her. Soon, the raven in the tree above me cried out again, and the one up in the sky answered with its own call.

The words that BhenRudha then spoke, "I cannae be fer ye," tore through me as I'm sure it tore through the ravens. I was pretty positive that most of the pain I had felt was actually coming from the ravens themselves along the channel I had opened to them. I did not mind though, as it had turned into an outlet for them.

I merged into the shadows as BhenRudha ran by me. Looking back towards the house, I made sure that Sumire was okay, and then I turned and followed Red into the forest. I took time to cover up her trail, and actually doubled back a couple of times to make sure no one was following, though I was pretty positive that nobody would at that time. But, it gave me an excuse to leave Red with some privacy to control herself. I didn't wait long, though, for it wasn't in my nature to leave somebody in pain.

Not surprisingly, Red ended up in the same clearing that I had found Sumire in. She stood in the middle of it, her whole body quivering with rage, pain, and grief, her hands at her side clenching and unclenching. I looked around and noticed the ravens had landed in a nearby tree, though they were staying silent, their gazes fixed on the woman before them. I nodded in their direction before stepping into the clearing and walking toward Red, my hands clasped behind my back. As I got near she swung towards me, and her eyes seemed to blaze with an unholy fire. That her private domain was being trespassed upon had made her fighting mad. Ignoring the look, I gazed at the sky instead.

"Nice night for a stroll, isn't it?"

[Evergreen]

By shoving of a thick and sturdy tree limb behind the askew wheel, Evergreen formed a lever to raise the small cart from where it was snared in a crevice in the road. A long braided leather lead was securely tied around the pommel on Whisperer’s saddle with the other end tied to the wooden axel.

“Yah, Whisper, yah, yah!” And with a quick lurch, the wagon shot forward from its place of entrapment sending a now off balance Evergreen falling backwards into the dusty road.

Whisperer whinnied as she crooked her neck looking towards her fallen companion, she nodded her majestic head as if to say, “I DID what you ask, not my fault your fell on your backside.”

The downed rider pointed her finger at the seemingly mocking horse, “Don’t ‘cha dare laugh or not another red apple will you ever have as long as I own ya.”

A bony hand up was offered to her and Evergreen grabbed the old woman’s palm to wrist again surprised at her strength.

The old woman was secretly amused at the transaction between the warrior woman and her horse. She thought that some paired up folks in her village did not communicate as well.

Dusting the back of her breeches, Evergreen looked at the smiling old woman. “There ya go grandmother. You can be on your way again.”

And as she turned to release Whisperer and mount to continue her own private journey, the old woman grabbed her forearm stopping her motion.

“No offense Warrior Woman, but you look in need of a warm bath… good and plentiful food and…a good night’s sleep in a real bed wouldn’t hurt ya neither I suspect. If yer have no better place in to be, you are most welcome to ride on ta my home.”

Looking down at first to her dusty leathers and well worn boots,moving upwards to a stained and now torn sleeve, and then as she held up her hands caked in grime, Evergreen’s stomach rumbled as if preplanned timing to do so.

Whisperer whinnied, “Apples!” as she began to stomp the ground and again nodding her head.

Looking at the horse and back at the old woman, Evergreen hesitated but for a moment before she sighed deeply. “There are only two in my life I can never say no to…” and silently named the two constants in her life… “Zena... and you, you old bag of horse flesh.”

“Where do you call home Grandmother?”

“Why Potidaea child!…by the sea…a most wonderful place…gave birth to the Battlin’ Bard ya know…..ran off with that dark Warrior Woman when just a child…joined up with them Amazons and became a princess. Didnya ever hear the story ‘bout that?”

And with Whisperer tethered behind dreaming of shiny red apples, Evergreen dozed in the now cool evening air thinking of other Amazons as the cart bumped along to the cadence of the old Grandmother’s story of Gabrielle.


Edited to fix font. ~~Joxcee~~

[Phalon]

It was quiet for a moment after Zena left the room, a quality of heaviness remaining in the air after her announcement of her intent to leave in the morning. The remaining women in the room, Sumire, Phalon and Kaisa, silently pondered what the announcement meant to each of them individually. It was Phalon who first broke the silence with a deep sigh, plopping into the chair that Zena had just vacated.

That small action in still room drew Kaisa from her thoughts and set her in motion. Being busy, at least for the time being, would briefly take her mind off thoughts of her daughter leaving home once again - for if Zena were leaving, it meant that Phalon and the others would follow, didn’t it?

Crossing to the big stone hearth, she lit an oil lamp there, and then another in front of Phalon, on the table. A warm glow cast over the room. Now that the room was lit, Kaisa focused her attentions first on Sumire. Seeing for the first time the change in Sumire – her clothing, and with it, a slight change in demeanor, Kaisa’s reaction mirrored that of her daughter’s earlier. She raised an eyebrow to what was obviously warrior’s garb, said nothing, but had that slight purse to her lips that Phalon was so used to seeing. This made Phalon chuckle to herself, in spite of the throbbing still going on in her head.

“Sumire, you’ve been gone all day…surely you are famished. Hhmmm…let’s see…Phalon’s polished off the stew…” she glanced sideways at Phalon, softly chortled at her little joke, and continued, “but I think we can scrounge something suitable to eat. Let’s see, we’ve got figs, olives, tiny pickled onions…” Opening jars and baskets, she started to heap a plate high with whatever she could find.

“But, Grandmother…”, Sumire started to protest. Kaisa refused to listen.

“bread, cheese, wine…”

Phalon rested her elbows on the table and set her chin in her hands, watching poor Sumire’s unheard protests with slight amusement. She knew she was next and was grateful for the brief reprieve of her mother’s attention. She could try to slink out of the room, but knew it was useless. There was no interfering with Kaisa when she was in this kind of mothering mood. It was best to just let it happen.

When Kaisa was finally done, Sumire sat at the table with a mound of food that would feed all three of them with some left over. Kaisa turned to pour some wine, and Phalon winked at Sumire, shrugged and whispered, “Just go with it. It’ll be so much easier in the long run.”

Setting the wine on the table in front of the now resigned Sumire, Kaisa turned towards Phalon, scrutinizing her closely under a worried mother’s eye for the first time since she’d entered the house. “Here it comes”, Phalon thought.

“Phalon, you look absolutely horrible.”

“Gee, thanks Mom. I live for such compliments.”

“Now, dear. Stop with the sarcasm. It isn’t very becoming.” Phalon rolled her eyes in her mother’s direction. Ignoring her daughter’s exasperated look, Kaisa continued. “You do look awful, you know…those dark circles under your eyes – you really ought to get more sleep, dear…” If only I could, Phalon thought. “and those filthy clothes…tsk, tsk”, Kaisa added, wrinkling her nose. “We’ve got to get you out of them – that stew is really starting to reek. You wait here while I draw a warm bath, and find you something to clean to wear.”

She took the big black metal cauldron of water that always sat next to the fire, and heaved it off to the room used for bathing. While she was gone, Phalon smiled sheepishly at Sumire, who sat picking at the mound of food in front of her. “Mothers…”, Phalon muttered.

Moments later, Kaisa reentered the room with fresh clothing under her arm. “Come dear,” she said, helping Phalon from her seat. “A nice long soak will do you wonders.”

Suddenly, with Kaisa's arm around her, Phalon was glad to succumb to the mothering, her will melted. Slipping her own arm around Kaisa’s waist, she laid her head on her mother's shoulder, and let herself be led from the room.

[Gabbin]

Clean clothes upon donned, the group was now feeling much better. Celeste heated up hot vegetable soup and they sat around the table eating it quietly. Frieda Rose ate nothing, her head slightly shifting to take in the sounds around her. She fidgeted nervously with her dress wishing she had her favorite shawl with its soft wool which always helped her relax. She gently cleared her throat and spoke.

"Um, I......I , well, if everyone is alright now, I, uh, I should be getting back. There is a lot of weaving for me to do in the morning" she quickly finished off her sentences.

Silence, then one spoke and said that we needed to get the twosome back to the store, unseen. The others agreed and began debating how this should be done while Frieda slowly rose to go. The the conversation suddenly stalled. What was going on? She flinched when she felt an hand on her arm.

"Yes?", Frieda asked unsuredly "Is there something else?"

Celeste said "Frieda, they need to get back without being seen, the best way would be without light, tonight. You could do this best."

"I just don't know if that is a good idea at all, really, I don't know if I could do that. It it is just that....." Frieda was saying till she felt a hand on her shoulder. Frieda froze and her eyes widened.

"Frieda" said Celeste.

Frieda pursed her lips and half smiled and then sighed. "Alright, let us go now" she breathed out reluctantly.

The door creaked open imperceptably and an ear appeared. Frieda was listening intently for a clear street. The door swung open quickly and three figures slid out into the night and shuffled away through the dusty streets. Frieda felt that she was breathing fast and shallow and sometimes not breathing at all. Her senses never felt so keen as tonight, the sounds, smells even the taste of the air was all so alive to her, all guiding her path. The smell of the tavern, the heat from the blacksmith, the dank smell of newly plastered pottery shop walls and the honey shop's sweet smells. She could smell the stables mix of odors and could almost taste the water from the nearby well. She felt her feet shuffling over small pepples and tiny dips in the well-worn road avoiding holes and rocks she had become familiar with over the past years. Her skirt swirled around her ankles and threatened to be pulled off by the woman she was pulling on behind her carrying the child. Frieda was on a mission.

[Phalon]

Phalon let her mother lead her to the sparsely furnished room that the family used for bathing – a chair, a small wooden tub, a tiny alcove recessed in the stone wall crammed with cakes of soap, powders and vial of various sizes, a wooden rack used to hang clothing and a large basket of towels. She sank into the wooden chair against the stone wall and closed her eyes. Her mother laid the clothes she carried under her arm across the rack, knelt in front of Phalon and began unlacing her boots.

Phalon opened her eyes, “Mom, I can…”

“Phalon. When are you going to learn that I need to help you once in awhile? It’s what mothers do. It’s what I’ve been denied for too many years. And it is my right”, she added, smiling. “So just sit there and hush for a moment.”

“Sure, Mom”, she sighed. As Kaisa worked at her boots, Phalon glanced at the clothing on the chair next to her, seeing for the first time what her mother had intended for her to wear. A longish skirt, and a blouse – the skirt the color of oak leaves in autumn, and the blouse, wheat colored with an embroidered ring of ivy circling the scooped neck. She ran her finger tips across the exquisite work.

Kaisa noticed her admiring the embroidery. “Beautiful, isn’t it? Those were Cassandra’s clothes. She did the work herself. Spent hours and hours on it. Such a shame she’s grown out of them so quickly. I swear these children are growing faster than the weeds in my garden.”

“Mom, I can’t wear these.”

“Sure you can. Cassandra’s the closest to your size, though she’s only seventeen.”

“That’s not what I meant. These clothes are beautiful…it’s just that…”

“Hush, Phalon, remember? There!” she said, wrestling off the last boot. “Now get undressed, get in the tub and relax. Perhaps a nice soak will wash away whatever is troubling you. And don’t worry, while you’re bathing, I’ll wash your things and hang them next to the fire. They should be dry by the time…”, she stopped herself, not wanting to say the words, “by the time you leave”. Instead she finished, “by morning.”

Phalon did as she was told and undressed while Kaisa took a vial of scented oil from the alcove in the wall and added a few drops to the bath water. A soothing fragrance rose from the steam and filled the room. As Phalon stepped into the wooden tub, Kaisa gathered her clothing. “Call out if you need anything”, she said, closing the door behind her, leaving Phalon alone with her thoughts.

Phalon leaned back, resting her head against the back of the tub and stared at the ceiling, letting her mind wander.

“You are not Amazon.” Zena’s words suddenly came back, resounding in her head taunting her. “Do what you think is right for you. Go where you think you will be happy.” Phalon slid down, completely submerging herself underwater. Happy? Where was she happy? She was happy here, amongst her family. And with her friends. In this house she was happy, but out there…in the village? These were not the same people Phalon knew growing up. She was not the same either. They were suspicious of her, and even feared her. Suspicion and fear often bred hatred, and Phalon had seen enough of Hatred over the last few months to last her the rest of this lifetime and into the next. “We do not belong here”, Zena had said. But did she? Could the love from her family overpower feelings of hatred and exclusion from an entire village? She wondered.

She looked up through the water and she thought how the view from this perspective, and her thoughts and visions were so much alike. Clear, yet at the same time distorted. And, quickly coming to the surface, how staying submerged in either for too long could leave her gasping for air.

* * *

“You look….”

“Ridiculous”, Phalon cut off her mother, looking down at the skirt she was wearing.

“No, dear. I was going to say beautiful. But I will say, you look like you are feeling better.”

“Well, Mom, looks can sometimes be deceiving, can’t they?”

“Oh?” Kaisa questioned, arching her brow.

“Look, Mom…I’m sorry. I’m just very tired and really only want to go to bed right now.” She leaned over and kissed her Kaisa on the cheek. She added over her shoulder as she went to the other room to collapse into her cot, “Thanks for everything. You’ve been great”, leaving Kaisa to wonder exactly what that meant.

[Phalon]

“Thanks for everything. You’ve been great”, Phalon said.

Kaisa watched her daughter leave the room, and wondered if that was her way of saying she’d be leaving come morning. Or was she simply thanking her for the warm bath and fresh clothes? There were times when Phalon was so difficult to decipher. She could be so obscure – almost cryptic – and it exasperated Kaisa. Very different from Gelasius, with his easy smile and open, carefree attitude – which, Kaisa chuckled, at times exasperated her also.

She gazed at her other child now, dozing in a chair in the corner, keeping watch over Bartok sleeping on a make-shift pallet of woolen blankets near the hearth. Her two children; one a home-body, happiest surrounded by his family, the other a wanderer, content to roam the land without home. Two very different people. Variety – the spice of life, she mused.

She let out a long sigh, and set about to her work. While Phalon was bathing, Kaisa had refilled cauldron with water from one of the large jugs kept in the courtyard that were filled daily at the town well. The water in the cauldron had been heating by the fire, and now she dipped a wooden bucket into it. She set the bucket on the table and crumbled bits from a soap cake into it, then submerged Phalon’s clothes in the bucket and began to scrub them with a stiff-bristled brush.

As she scrubbed, she thought about her family; her children, her daughter-in-law, the grandchildren – all together in this house. Surely, the gods had blessed her. She only wished her husband were alive to share the joy she felt when surrounded by her loved ones. He so missed Phalon when she left – they all did, and to have her back home again was a joy he’d missed knowing. This joy at having Phalon home, the family complete, she knew was short-lived. An ache clutched at her heart when she thought about her daughter’s departure, and she wished it didn’t have to be. There was nothing, she knew, she could do to change it. All her tricks – the raised eyebrows, the pursed lips, the stern looks – would have no effect on her daughter. She laughed – they never did. Her hands were tied.

Realizing how hard she’d been scrubbing while thinking, she stopped, worried she may have worn a hole through the fabric. Checking them over and satisfied that she hadn’t, she rinsed the clothes in a second bucket, wrung and hung them next to the hearth over a wooden rack similar to the one in the bathing room. The fire had receded to glowing embers, only a tiny flame flaring now and again, refusing to die. The clothes would never dry by morning, she thought, and placed another log on the fire. The wood began to crackle and the fire rekindled. She turned down the wick in the lamps, so the room grew dark except for the warm light from the fire.

Her work done, she realized how tired she was and decided she might as well try to get a bit of sleep before the sun rose. Normally, she would have noticed the small thing she’d left unfinished. Perhaps it was because she was so exhausted, or perhaps it was because she was distraught over Phalon’s departure - whatever the reason – she’d forgotten Phalon’s sword. She’d gathered it with the dirty clothes and had leaned it against the back of a chair near the table, intending to give it back to Phalon when she finished with her bath. She’d forgotten it then, and overlooked it now as she left the room.

Which is not to say it went completely unnoticed. When the room grew still, the man opened his eyes from his feigned slumber. The heat in his eyes matched the glow from the fire reflected in the blade of his brother’s sword. Staring intently at that amber reflection in the blade, he fervently worked at the binds at his wrists, biding his time.

[Zena]

The blanket should have been course to the touch. It was, after all, just the kind of blanket that is tossed around and dragged to a place by the fire. Nothing unusual. But it did not leave marks on the skin, in fact it was cool and smooth. Cotton perhaps. The lines of yarn were even, not a one pulled too loose or too tight. The color was like the dewey early morning grass and just as easy to sleep on. Zena bunched it up under her head and inspected the handiwork. Perhaps the blind weaver had done this; her stitches were born of the lack of distraction in a confusing world.

“I remember being blind. But it was not frightening. Evergreen was close. The shirt. Frieda must have finished the shirt by now. A soft shirt, like this blanket, with the pine bough embroidered on it. Silly thing. How she loved that shirt.”

Her throat tightened and she fought against it. But she could not conquer the inevitable and the fire came to her eyes making them water. She buried her face in the blanket and tried to think of other things. Phalon passed her in the darkness, silent and smelling of the perfumes of the bath.

“Phalon. I will miss her. She was a dependable friend, good to walk with in a battle. But she will want to stay here, with her family, with Red.”

Her lonliness suddenly engulfed her, the losses, the misunderstandings and she began to sob. It was shameful to be so weak but it was not within her ability to control the waves of sorrow that pounded against her. So she let it come, curling up like the small child the Amazons found so long ago, to empty her heart. She muffled her misery in the companionship of the blanket and so did not hear the grunt that came from Bartok when he finally snapped his bond.

[Evergreen]

“Whoa there, well done Fredo, well done.” The old woman praised the oxen for never faltering on the long journey returning her, and the woman sleeping to her right, safely home.

“Wake up warrior” she said without touching her. She had heard stories of such women as this that could lop off an unsuspecting arm from such an innocent touch- and do so without a weapon. Such stories about these Amazons. Looks harmless enough- when she sleeps.

Evergreen awoke dazed from a deep restful sleep to the sound of rushing chariots. Ever hypervigalent, the warrior woman flew to her feet and drew her sword with a loud whoosh cutting the air.

“So it is true what they say!” Feebly attempting to cover her head, the old woman hoped that the blade would not send her head down to the ground before the rest of her body joined it. “It’s just the sound of the sea woman…just down that path,” she said nodding her head in the direction of tall white sand dunes dotted with dense seaoats.

“What’s true?” Evergreen lowered her sword now fully in control of her senses.

“Nutin’…nutin’ at all. We’re home we are. Come on. Get down and let’s go inside to see what damage my daughter-in law’s brood has inflicted on my house while I was away supportin’ ‘em all.”

She immediately noticed the air. It’s scent. Fecund and salty, it assaulted her memory. Evergreen closed her eyes and listened to the gulls screeching overhead. The steady crashing of waves rolled over her mind bringing with it images, feelings of a love lost but always within an ethereal grasp. She could feel it now washing over her as the foamy brine bathing the sandy beach as she visably trembled.

Jumping down, she shook her head as if to clear it from its search for understanding.

The old woman wondered what had now brought a smile to the warrior woman’s previously pained look.

“Who you be thinkin’ of that makes ya grin like a randy rooster with full run of the coop?”

Evergreen had to laugh at the old woman’s words. She had not enjoyed such banter since she and Zena…

“I was just thinking of a friend, Grandmother. She would love this cottage, the sea…particularly if you could throw in a few grape vines for good measure.”

“Ha! If it be grapevines ya be wantin'…where in Tatarus do ya think all the wine that fills them barrels comes from…think I fill ‘em with sea water and turn it to wine meself do ya? Just take a walk ‘ore that hill at daybreak and you will have enough grapevines…” The old woman stopped in mid thought and laughed as she struggled to loosen the oxen’s yoke.

“Wait, let me do that, Grandmother.”

Before moving to the other side of the cart, Evergreen took a long look around her. Seeing the low thatched cottage, smelling the air, with the sound of the sea at her back, she drank it all in at once like a remedy for a sick body. I’m home. The phrase seared her thoughts like a whisper from a voice long ago silenced.

Swinging the scabbard and sword from her shoulder, she walked over to the stump of what must have been a formidable pine tree and laid it atop the crosscut. Something stirred in her soul and she knew that it would be many seasons before she would wear it again.

“Warrior woman…ever heard about Xenar releasing Prometheus from chains on the mountain top…”

Evergreen smiled as she began to help gnarled fingers loosen Fredo’s bindings setting him free. “No…no I haven’t, Grandmother…but I am sure I am about to.”


Edited to fix font. ~~Joxcee~~

[Phalon]

Phalon laid down on the cot and smoothed the folds of the skirt out around her. How ridiculous to be wearing such clothing to go to sleep, she thought. How ridiculous for her to be wearing such clothing. It was impracticable for the way she lived - traveling from place to place on horseback, never knowing where she would end up, and she was uncomfortable wearing them. She would have been much more at home wearing her oldest nephew’s, Thaddeus’, clothing…good, sensible clothing – woven trousers, and a cotton tunic. Plain, but suitable. Not that her mother would agree, or have even given a notion to offering her trousers – it was just not fitting for women to wear such things, Kaisa would say. In spite of her exhaustion, Phalon laughed quietly.

She traced the embroidered vine around the neckline of the blouse. It wasn’t that she found her niece’s garments distasteful – no, they were indeed beautiful. Nor did she, herself, go completely without adornments. She had her collection of baubles and glass beads, seldom worn but for effect, when it suited her to look the part of the mystic. Then there was her penchant for scarves - colorful silks which she used to tie back her long hair. Frivolous things, she knew. Perhaps, impracticable also – but less so than the skirt she was wearing now. And of course…her robe…the long blue one, gone now, lost in the forest where Kedos was banished. Had Frieda started on the new one yet? When it was done, perhaps Phalon would ask Cassandra to do embroidery work that appeared on the robe in her dream – the fern fronds along the yoke line, and the knot resembling Eurayle’s ring. That would take some time – time for Frieda to sew the robe, and then even more time for Cassandra to complete the embroidery. Did she have the time, she wondered, and did contemplating having the robe completed mean that she had unconsciously made a decision to stay? Was she still considering leaving? She was too tired to answer herself.

She certainly was content – felt loved here in her childhood home with her family. There was tension in the town, though, she knew, at her being here. She wondered if the tension would ever reach the doors to this house, and work its way inside. Would she ever feel totally at home, or, like the borrowed clothes she was wearing, was it impracticable? She fell asleep before reaching a verdict.

[Phalon]

She grew up in this house. Even during the long span of time – twenty years – that she’d been gone, she always thought of it as home…and it was home, the only real one she’d ever known. Her most happy times were spent here and as she drifted off to sleep, thoughts from that happy childhood permeated her dreams…

* * *

She stood in the meadow. It was late spring, the chill gone from the air, and a warm,gentle breeze caught the folds of her robe, billowing them around her. Spring flowers dotted the meadow, and Phalon remembered their stories, told to her by her mother at bedtime when she was little.

Dainty white wind flowers, fragile and delicate, like the nymph they were named after. Anemone was a love of Zephyr, god of the west wind, and this made his wife, Chloris, the goddess of flowers, extremely jealous – so jealous that she changed Anemone into a flower to be blown apart by the slightest wind.

There were also the haughty yellow Narcissus, their trumpets sounding the arrival of spring. Phalon’s mother likened these trumpets to the young man, Narcissus, always “tooting his own horn”, so conceited and self-absorbed that he could not tear himself away from his own reflection in a pool of water, wilting away and dying, leaving only a flower in his place.

Her favorite story though, was of the springtime iris. Iris, the goddess of the rainbow, had the duty of taking the souls of women across a rainbow bridge into the Elysian Fields, and to bring home their messages to their loved ones remaining on earth. All throughout Greece in the springtime, young men would lay these flowers on the graves of their deceased lovers, awaiting a message from Iris. How sadly romantic, Phalon thought as a child. She bent now and picked one, its heady fragrance tickling her nose.

She was not the only one picking flowers in the meadow, she noticed. A young child, a rag-doll in one hand and a basket of flowers in the other, skipped through the field, singing. Phalon recognized the song as one she used to know, and realized the girl was herself, perhaps at seven or eight years of age. Her cheerful singing was abruptly interrupted by the entrance into the meadow of another child, younger then the girl-Phalon. “Come here, girl”, he demanded. “I am a mean old Roman soldier and I’ve come to make you my slave and you will do all my chores”, he said, waving a stick in front of her.

“You will do no such thing, Gelasuis,” young Phalon retorted. “Get back home and stop pestering me.”

“I will not go home, until you are captured. Then we’ll return together and you will clean the chicken coop and fetch the water and gather wood for the fire for me.”

“Stop, Gelasuis. Those were things you were suppose to do this morning, before you went out to play.”

“But I’ll have you to do them instead. Or I’ll give you a whack with my sword.” He jabbed the stick in her direction, upsetting her basket of flowers and spilling it to the ground.

“Gelasuis! I’ll get you”, she yelled, starting towards him. He dropped his “sword” and ran, and Phalon watched them chase each other through the meadow, laughing and playfully yelling as they went.

She stooped down and picked up the rag-doll that the girl-that-was-herself had dropped. She smiled at her recognition of it. The hair was made of thin threads of twine, unraveled and dyed yellow and she smoothed it back to reveal a simple face – stitched black eyes, and a permanent red smile. She loved this doll as a child and wondered whatever had happened to it. She held it up now, wanting to call to the girl-Phalon not to forget it.

Looking up to scan the meadow for the children, she saw they were gone, and the meadow was replaced by a green field on a cliff, overlooking the sea. It was chillier then it had been moments earlier, though the sun still shone bright, and she pulled her robe tightly around her to keep out the bite of the wind.

Screams filled the air and she, for a moment, thought young Phalon and young Gelasuis had returned. The screams, loud enough to pierce the wind, indeed, were coming from children, though not from Phalon or Gelasuis, and they were not the yells of children playing, but were screams of real fear. She squinted her eyes against the sun, and saw two girls being corralled closer and closer towards a cliff at the edge of the field by two men with swords. As soon as she recognized the sword as the one she’d been carrying recently, the sun caught the steel, the flash from its rays reflecting off the blade and temporarily blinding Phalon.

When her eyes came back into focus, the blade still held the light, duller now, and more subtle. Glowing amber, it was the light from a fire, and the sword laid on her mother’s table. She watched as hands, much too small for the weight of the sword, wrapped themselves around the hilt. She heard a small wavering voice belonging to the wielder of the sword, say “Get back you.”

* * *

She woke with a start, abruptly bolting upright. She recognized that small voice. She knew, unlike the rest of her dream, that this part was real – this part was now. “Get back, I said. Stay away from me!"

Apollo!

[Sumire]

The wine was warm and sweet and a sharp contrast to how Sumire felt sitting alone in the dark. After Kaisa’s brief fussing she had found herself alone again in spite of how she wished otherwise. But as the events a few hours ago had played out, she was reminded of how her presence was extraneous. Truly, where she sat now, in the furthest shadows of the greater room –opposite the flickering light of the fireplace, seemed more fitting than anything.

The food that she had hungrily ate once Phalon and Kaisa had left her to go the bathing room, left her feeling sluggish. After having ate her fill she cleaned up the area and returned the uneaten food to the places where she had seem them pulled. The only thing she left out was the wine. She took the bottle and cup and moved to the other side of the room to an obscured corner - away from stray sleeping bodies. She sat there drinking silently while she tried to think.

Kaisa had not even noticed her when the matriarch returned for some hot water. Neither was she noticed when the sword was leaned upon the table. She thought it strange that a weapon should be placed there, but then perhaps this was a western custom. Sumire gave it no more thought as she sipped from her cup.

A full belly and wine would surely make her groggy enough so that she would sleep soundly and then perhaps in the morning she would know what to do with herself. Yet… the sleep didn’t seem to come –and for once neither did the usual thoughts and feelings that plagued her of late. She remained awake.. and numb.

In the stillness she simply sat and listened to the sounds of a house that slept. The sighs and deep breaths, a soft occasional snore, the intermittent rustling of people stirring in their sleep, and now the sounds of someone moving about –probably headed to the little room outside.

They were little feet she could tell, with a short stride. With an idle interest she listened to the path as the child moved from the children’s room down the hall, passing the room were the women slept and the greater room. The little footfalls stopped and then there was a sudden gasp. Sumire snapped her eyes toward the open area that was the intersection of the great room, the woman’s room and the passage from the children’s room. She saw the child backed into the large room, away from something hurriedly.

She set her cup down and stood as she recognized the young boy Apollo. Before she could say anything the thing scurried after Apollo. At first she thought it might be some huge dog, but then saw that it was a man that went upon all fours. He scrabbled after Apollo as if to catch him and the boy backed away towards the fire place.

Sumire cleanly picked her way through the shadows and placed herself directly behind the man. As she drew closer she adjusted weapons she didn’t remember drawing. She flipped the dagger in her hand from throwing position to a stabbing grasp. In her other hand was a black fighting fan, fully extended. This she held low and readied for an upward slash. She had gathered herself for a strike when she saw the boy grab the sword that had been leaning against the table.

“Get back you.”

Quickly she adjusted and drew back as the man backed away from the boy. It was then that actual thought intervened. What was she doing? If this had been Kageyama the man would be dead already. He was threatening a child so why hadn’t she dispatched with him already? Why did he still live and why did she not strike him down even now?

The man stood and moved forward again, over his initial surprise at Apollo who was brandishing the sword in trembling hands. Sumire slipped the weapons into their hiding places, peeled herself from shadows of the room and moved close enough to be the man’s own shadow.

“Get back, I said. Stay away from me!"

The boy’s cry made the man jump and he looked about frantically to see if anyone had heard. From her place right behind his shoulder Sumire said softly “Mou ii” Enough.

As she had hoped, the man swung wildly at her. He was so off balance and crazed that she was able to make her initial grab one handed. The twisting of his limb, sweeping of his legs while she pivoted within his sphere of movement, was as easy as a dance step to her. His body came hurtling down the arc she traced and she heard the satisfying thud of his face hitting before the rest of his body. The pinned arm now under the weight of her knee, she drew a dagger flipped it in her grasp.

"SUMIRE!"

The dagger froze in place before she could drive the blade down in between the vertebrae at the back of his neck.

She felt her eyes blur with tears as she growled out something in her own language. Her hand tensed and she pulled back again to slam the dagger home but this time it was not someone’s voice that stopped it. Someone held her wrist in tightly in place.

[Joxcenia]

Trenna awoke just as the sky in the east began to emit a red glow. She dressed hurriedly and went about her morning chores of gathering wood for the breakfast fire, scattering feed for the chickens early morning meal, and then collecting their eggs as they chased about pecking the grain from the grass and scratching up dust from dirt patches strewn about the penned-in yard. She closed the gate behind her as she headed toward the kitchen. She was penned inside an invisible cage herself, though she wasn’t anyone’s prisoner, not in the real sense. She was free to leave as soon as she had worked enough to pay her debt for the care that this hospice had provided for her during her illness. Her prison was one of her own mind’s making, as she had no memory of who she was or where she came from. All she knew is what she was told, that she had been found in the woods by some hunters who brought her to this hospice and left her in the care of the staff here. When her debt was finally paid, she had no where else to go, and even though the people here had nursed her back to health, given her a new name, and had been nice to her, she didn’t wish to stay on.

[Phalon]

Fear for her nephew clutched at her heart as she woke from her dream. Instinctively, as she sat up, she reached for the sword kept at her side. But it wasn’t there, was it? No, Apollo had it, she knew.

“Get back, I said. Stay away from me!"

Bolting off the cot, she forgot for a moment how she was dressed. It only took a moment though, for the folds of the skirt had gotten twisted about her ankles as she fitfully slept. The tangled material cut short her stride as her feet hit the floor, and she sprawled forward off balance.

“Umph.”

“Mmpf..Huh?....What the…” Phalon put her index finger to a very bewildered and rudely awakened Zena’s lips.

“Shhhh, Zena”, she whispered in the darkness. “It’s me…Phalon. Someone’s in the other room threatening Apollo. He’s in danger, Zena.”

It is odd sometimes how hard it can be for one to wake from sleep. They come out of their slumber sluggish and disoriented. Other times, a person can be awakened from even the deepest sleep, fully aware and adrenaline pumping. Such it was this night. First Phalon, and now Zena.

In an instant, Zena sprang from her bed, and sent Phalon sprawling for the second time. Regaining her footing, she quickly followed Zena into the main room, where they saw silhouetted in the moonlight, a raised knife about to strike.