Asena Blessed, page 32
part #2 of Altaica Series
‘Pravin, they’ve stopped to rest.’ She described the lay of the land to him. ‘What do you propose?’
* * *
‘Time to go,’ the Boar commander said. Two sentries at either end of the clearing moved to join the others. Pio sat, hands and feet tied, with his back pressed against a large boulder.
Alejo galloped into the clearing from one end, flanked by Asena. From his back Isaura let loose an arrow, felling the sentry nearest to her. Pravin and the rest of the Asena charged the along the trail from the other side. He hurled a spear into the other sentry. Pravin’s horse skidded precariously on the loose stones into an Asena, who yelped shrilly, nipping at its legs.
Isaura saw a Boar soldier take aim at Pravin. She fumbled with reloading her bow and tossed it aside. She let fly a throwing axe, which lodged in the enemy’s back. He collapsed to his knees. An Asena pounced on him, gouging his neck, finishing him.
The Boar horses, tied loosely to shrubs, were harried by the Asena. Pulling back and rearing, the horses snapped their tethers and galloped away.
Pravin’s horse regained its feet. A Boar soldier pulled the spear from his dead comrade and thrust it at Pravin’s mount—the horse sidled away. The spear narrowly missed it; instead scraping Pravin’s grieves. Pravin slashed downward with his sword, breaking the spear shaft. The horse danced backward and two Asena pounced upon the Boar soldier, dragging him to the ground.
Alejo slid to a halt, but his momentum had placed him well within the clearing. Two men moved to attack Isaura from either side. Alejo lashed out with both feet, double barrelling one man in the chest, sending him flying backwards. The enemy hit the ground and skidded—dead. Isaura’s makeshift saddle slipped sideways as Alejo pirouetted to face the other attacker. She vaulted from his back to face the Boar commander. The Wild hummed within her, blue fire burned in her eyes.
The commander advanced. His kilij slashed toward her. She slid sideways. Alejo lunged at him, trying to bite him, forcing him to turn side on to her. Isaura lashed out with her sword. It barely connected, but sliced through the buckle at the side of his leather cuirass. A faint well of blood flicked off the tip as it travelled.
The commander grunted, but moved in swiftly. His blade came at her in a flurry of slashes. Alejo urged her on. Isaura panicked. Her control slipped. The Wild burned—and she let it. Rage engulfed her. She attacked in a frenzy. The commander smiled, evading her easily. His blade sliced through her jacket. Alejo charged him, enraged. Alejo, No! Fear for him jolted Isaura. Alejo, move! She drew her dagger in the other hand and flicked it at her attacker. Alejo danced away from him. The cuirass gaped from her earlier work. The dagger slipped through the gap into his side. The commander staggered, but did not fall.
Breathe, just breathe. Focus. Calm. Isaura quelled her rage, visualising The Wild as her sword; trying to channel it into her movements. A sense of detachment, of stillness, enveloped her. Events seemed to slow. Instead of reacting, she watched and analysed—too late.
Isaura felt the breath of the Boar blade as it sliced toward her head. Instinct took over. The commander’s kilij flashed toward her head. She arched backwards, turned her wrist and slashed upwards. In her mind’s eye, her kilij burned brightly. It sliced through his forearm. His hand and sword toppled to the dirt. Blood poured from the stump. The commander doubled over in pain. As he bent forward, Isaura brought her sword down with all her might and severed his head.
Pravin kept his distance. ‘Isa?’
Isaura’s sides heaved and her limbs shook. ‘I’m in control. I’m fine. You’re safe.’
Now she sought out Pio. Several Asena sheltered him and his face lay buried in the ruff of one. Pio was trembling. Isaura took a step toward him. Pravin grabbed her arm, shaking his head and flicked his gaze pointedly to her clothes. Her tunic was spattered with blood. Isaura took it off and tossed it across Alejo’s saddle, revealing her clean blue silk shirt.
‘Isa,’ Pravin said quietly. ‘You’re ready. When the boy is returned, we join Karan.’
Isaura nodded and went to Pio. The Asena parted before her. What’ll he think? He’s just watched me massacre these men. She sighed, steeling her heart. Isaura prised his hand from the Asena’s fur and held it in her own hand, gently rubbing the back of it with her thumb. Slowly he looked up at her.
‘Hello, Pio. Didn’t your ma tell you not to wander off with strangers?’
Pio threw himself into her arms, knocking her flat on her back. ‘Isa! I knew you’d come.’ Isaura held him and rubbed his back until his crying subsided. ‘Can we go?’
‘Yes.’ They walked to Pravin and Alejo.
Pio tucked into her side as they stepped around bodies. ‘Who’ll I ride with?’
‘You’ll have your own horse to ride,’ Pravin said. ‘Usually the loose horses don’t go too far. We’ll find you one.’
‘Er …’ Isaura said. ‘I believe the young Asena enjoyed their job a little too much. The horses are long gone.’
‘Isa, Alejo scares me.’
‘Lad,’ Pravin said drily. ‘That mule scares everyone, including me.’
Alejo lowered his head, eyeballing Pio. Pio stepped back, pressing himself against Isaura. The mule stretched his neck toward the boy. Pio’s eyes grew round. He grabbed Isaura’s hand; his breath hitched in his throat. Alejo closed in on him. Boy and mule stood eye to eye. Alejo wuffed gently through his nose and nudged Pio’s chest. He stepped back, shaking his head and gave a whinnie that ended in a bray.
Isaura rolled her eyes at Pio. ‘He thinks he’s funny, Pio.’
A little falcon swooped overhead and landed on Alejo’s saddle.
Pio smiled at it and it glided to his outstretched arm. ‘Isa, Pravin, meet Fiamma. I think she’s my guardian.’
* * *
Asha had worked tirelessly. Umniga’s body was bathed and painted with ritual tattoos of willow and oak. Her hair was braided neatly and she lay with her staff on top of a high bier. At sunset Asha held a torch to the timber and watched the flames lick along the wood and burst to life. She leaned forward, rocking, sobbing. A keening wail erupted from her lips. Tears streamed down her face. The words of the lament stuck in her throat. She could not sing. Slowly, those around her began a chant ending with the cry of ‘Umniga!’ Drums took up the rhythm and the lament began in a harmonious round—the massed voices carrying their sorrow to the gods.
Lucia took Asha’s hand and rubbed her back comfortingly. Asha gripped it firmly and stood tall. Her grief, her love and her anger poured forth to the sky as she joined the chanting. They sang until the body was consumed.
Asha placed a portion of Umniga’s ash into a carved wooden box. The rest was scooped up and transported to the lake where Asha boarded a small boat and was rowed from the shore. In silence the camp watched as Umniga’s remains were committed to the life-giving water. When Asha alighted, she knelt by the lake and wet her face and the top of her head. She dipped her hands into the wooden box and pressed the ash against her skin and hair, transforming her face into a ghostly visage.
‘Now we get your son,’ she said to Lucia. ‘Then we go to war.’
* * *
Scowling, Isaura fidgeted, kicking her legs out and pulling them back. She’d been finding it impossible to keep still ever since she’d sat down. Pio slept nearby, clutching his flute, an Asena curled around him. His satchel lay at her feet, its contents half out. He’ll lose things. Isaura bent to grab it and a warm buzz travelled through her outstretched hand. What in the world? Hastily she pulled her hand back. Isaura took the long leather strap of the bag and, holding it out from her, she warily carried it away from the others before placing it on the ground. The Matriarch stalked to her. Alejo wandered over.
Leave it be, Isa-cub.
Isaura narrowed her eyes at the Matriarch. She used a stick to jiggle the bag’s contents to one corner, then took hold of the empty corner and shook the contents onto the ground. Out of the satchel slid a half eaten apple and a black crystal as long as her hand.
Isa-cub, don’t.
Isaura moved her hand toward it and a rainbow ripple ran along its surface. A multi-hued glow began that became blue. The tattoos on Isaura’s hands glowed in response. Her whole arm tingled, filling her with a heady sensation. Slowly, she moved her hand away. The crystal ceased to glow. Yet her body thrummed—strong, invincible.
It’s the same type of crystal as the Goddess’s Eye, isn’t it? How did Pio get it? Did you know? Isaura asked.
Yes it is, and no. This is her work, Isa-cub. Leave it. The Matriarch moved forward, head lowered.
Isaura ignored her. Did the other crystal do this for you?
Never. Leave it now. The Matriarch growled low and deep in her throat. A slow full snarl curled her lips as she stared at Isaura. Alejo thumped his massive front hoof between them. The Matriarch tried to dart around him. Alejo flicked a hind hoof. The Matriarch yelped and sailed through the air. She lay prostrate before him, ears pinned against her head. None of the other Asena woke. Those stationed as sentries did not notice the commotion.
Alejo, don’t hurt her, Isaura said. Nothing, his mind was blocked to her.
Isaura’s vision blurred. Dual images swam before her as Alejo hauled her partially into the spirit realm. She shook her head, disoriented.
Primara was watching. Surprise and wariness warred with glee upon her features. She regained her composure. Touch it, Isa. It waits for you. Can you not feel it, humming through you? You are the same. It answers your spirit as it never answered mine or my brother’s. You will be able to use it.
Anticipation filled Isaura. Can I? It could be easy. All the bodies of those they’d left behind in Arunabejar, the invasion—she’d not been able to protect them. I could’ve stopped all that. Isaura reached for it. The tongues of rainbow flame licked across the crystal. It burst into a vibrant blue blaze. Isaura hesitated, her hand partway toward it.
The Matriarch writhed on the ground, pinned by an unseen force. Isa-cub, be strong! She lay on her side exhausted, panting.
Primara flicked her gaze toward the Matriarch—concerned, curious. Smiling, she shrugged. It seems your guardian and I are of an accord. Isaura, think of the good you can do. Think what you can do already. This is just more of the same. You can protect those you love, Primara wheedled.
Isaura’s hand hovered over the crystal. What’s in this for you?
Primara’s form flickered, then grew brighter. Her expression moved from anger, to grief, to resignation. I need to know I was right. I need to return … to restore some of my history. You are the key. I need to know a thousand years were not merely punishment and …
Iridescent blue flames flicked from the crystal, drawing both their attention. No, not flames. The Wild. Pulsing not just from it, but to it, Isaura mused. A flame arced towards Isaura’s hand. She stepped back, but The Wild within her answered. The natural currents of energy around her flowed through the crystal and rushed across the arc into her. Isaura’s veins thrummed in response, burning as the two attempted to merge.
Drunken euphoria seeped through her. The intensity of the rush grew, nearly overwhelming her. This was no slow, gentle recharging of her energy. Isaura tried to break free. Her legs were welded in place. Her eyes grew wide. I can’t move! I need to do something! This will kill me. I have to let it out. Yet the crystal continued to arc power to her. I can’t shut it off. Her legs and arms were cramping.
Isaura, you can do this, Primara urged. You have come so far. I can see you starting to control it within you. You must now stop the flow.
Alejo, help! Isaura tore her gaze to him. The Asena had formed a circle around them. They were prostrate before him. Alejo turned his head toward her and his eyes glowed, not with the familiar blue of The Wild, but with the rainbow fire of the crystal. Isaura could only stare into their depths, held captive by the heart of the fire.
A vision of Primara and her brother, with a crystal many times the size of this, invaded her mind. Twins. One in the spirit realm, one in the physical realm. They formed the perfect conduit. They laughed, young, confident, arrogant, heady from small successes—heedless of the cost. Primara craved knowledge, her brother craved power. Isaura saw their auras rapidly change, small streaks of blue became dazzling white. Power roared through them killing them and spilling into the world unchecked, then the crystal exploded. They destroyed everything they loved and coveted. ‘Stop the flow’ was Primara’s last desperate call from the spirit realm to her brother.
Flashes of memories assailed Isaura—the Matriarch. ‘There is always a choice … decide which trail to walk.’ Karan’s words lingered the longest—‘Control makes heroes or villains of us all.’ Visions of her friends, their journey, the hardships. I don’t want them hurt. I don’t want to cause it. I want to keep them safe. I’ve always wanted that! I choose another path. Give me another path please?
Isaura glared at Primara. You were wrong then and you’re wrong now! You didn’t even think about the risk. Your brother had no chance against this, nor do I! Isaura closed her eyes and prayed. May the goddess … She struggled for coherency … M’Aricel, give me strength to fight just to stop this, even if it kills me.
Frustrated, desperate, Primara screamed. You must be able to harness it! Your essence is the same!
Isaura roared at her. I want to kill you! You’ve damned us all. I’ll not sacrifice my friends for you. Primara’s image fractured, but reformed. A tree trunk split directly behind her. Isaura’s teeth clenched. Her skin grew hot and itchy. She fought to shift her feet. Her head swam. No. Remember who you are, what you want—save them. Breathe. Just breathe. Isaura closed her eyes. Sweat poured off her; her glowing tattoos pulsed. Control. Breathe. Focus. Shut it out.
Isaura found same stillness in her mind that she’d had in battle. She sensed two storms with slightly different rhythms battling for dominance within her. Briefly, they pounded together. Her aura became blinding—nearly white. The discordant beat resurfaced, her aura flickered its familiar blue. Music. Pio! Isaura grabbed that discord and focused on it. Thinking of it like a song, singing to it in her mind. It heeded her. The familiar blue flashed back more strongly. Isaura grasped it, forcing that discordance, her Wild, to her hands. Everything slowed. For a second The Wild within her sought release via the path to the crystal, blocking the flow into her—reversing it. Her energy forced its way briefly into the crystal. Isaura could move; she staggered back shakily just as her control snapped. The arc vanished.
Alejo reared; his front feet landed upon the crystal, smashing it. The Matriarch and the Asena shook themselves as if waking from a dream.
Isaura’s aura pulsated madly between white and blue. Pure energy whipped around her system, agonising as her as spirit tried to assimilate it. I have to get it out.
Isaura, Primara cried. Use it! It is yours.
Stay away from me, Isaura snarled, or we will end you! Alejo turned the rainbow fire of his gaze upon Primara. She stepped back terrified and vanished.
Isaura forced her legs to move her further away from the camp and her friends. The huge outcrop of rock where Pio had been tied up loomed in the distance before her. I hope this works. She picked up a rock, focused on it and hurled it with all her might. The stone struck the massive outcrop and it cracked and toppled into four pieces. The pressure within Isaura lessened. Legs weak, Isaura sat on the ground and kept throwing rocks until she’d reduced the outcrop to rubble.
Isaura stopped when Alejo placed his chin on her shoulder. ‘You were a lot of help. What in Karak happened?’ She searched his memory, finding only blankness and confusion. ‘Never mind.’
She was still there, deep in thought, when hours later the gravel behind her crunched.
‘I thought you were out here dwelling on the battle,’ Pravin said. He quirked his brow at the rocky devastation. ‘I was going to offer you some sage advice, like that way lies madness. Now I’m not sure what to say.’
‘It’s still good advice,’ Isaura replied with a half smile. ‘But I think madness lies all around. How’s Pio?’
‘Just stirring. Before you ask I slept like a baby.’ Pravin shook his head. ‘Never heard a damned thing.’
‘Just as well. The Asena?’
‘Still here. The Old Mother has been just sitting, watching you.’
‘Isa, what happened?’ Pio asked agog.
‘I’ve been trying to figure that out myself.’ Isaura stood, dusting off her clothes and winking at him. ‘Maybe an earth tremor. Come on.’ They headed back to the camp. ‘Pio, I’m sorry, Alejo broke your crystal.’
Pio scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. ‘Damn it to Karak and back! I’ll have to get another one.’
‘Pio! If your mother heard …’
‘You say it.’
Isaura sagged and smiled tiredly. ‘Just don’t say it around your ma. And promise me you won’t go looking for another crystal. It was magic and dangerous … Promise?’
Pio rolled his eyes. ‘I promise.’ He held out his arm and Fiamma landed on it. His face lit with excitement. ‘Fiamma showed me—Asha is coming … and Ma!’ Pio raced to catch up to Pravin.
The Matriarch fell in beside Isaura. ‘You’re not limping,’ Isaura said, surprised. ‘Alejo kicked you.’
Alejo did not touch me.
Isaura’s jaw dropped. What? I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what happened with him last night.
No. I will only tell you the events were as much a surprise for me as they were for you. Amusement tinged the Matriarch’s thoughts. Do you know how to end Primara?
Isaura snorted. No, but if she persists I’ll figure it out. Have you any idea how far away Asha is?
My scouts say a day and a half. Her guard amongst others are with her—a significant force.
Pravin returned to Isaura, leading his horse.
