The Jewel of Veenah

Grief of a Warrior Part 2

Born out of darkness

Child of light

From the white breast of power

Drink strength for the fight

Chapter 2. The Grief of a Warrior

Rok experienced a shove in her back, forcing her over the precipice. In that same instant she knew she would miss the narrow trail and very likely slide to her death down the steep embankment. Rage toward whoever did this filled her heart. She was sure it was Aga, leader of their femtog and the hardest of all the warrior class. Aga had done this to her so many times, she'd come to expect such a thing at any moment. She braced herself for the fall. In the same instant she released her hand from Stix, not wanting to pull her bond sisters down with her. I will come back and kill you for this, Aga.

In a twist of her body, a move she'd learned long ago to protect herself while falling, Rok tried desperately to surf the steep embankment where she landed. She couldn't hold back a scream as she saw her family disappear in the flying dirt. Hopefully her precious sisters made it to the trail. Then the blast wave which had pushed her was immediately followed by a dust cloud and crashing stones. Terror replaced anger. This was not Aga's doing. What in Perg?

The side of her leg burned through her leather breeches as she fought for control. Debris in the air blinded her. She went airborne over the edge of the precipice and set her legs for the hard landing.

She screamed a war cry, hoping her sisters could hear, if they were still alive. Stones again rained from the sky and she crouched, ducking under her arms. The pounding reminded her of the blows she often received from Aga. Instinctively Rok knew, if she didn't save herself, she could in no way save her sisters. She dashed into the night, away from the falling stones, without looking back.

Terror built in her as she ran. Visions of horrible creatures ready to pounce at her from every shadow spurred her to greater speed until her breath finally failed. She could barely hear the crashing of stone behind her. A painful stab of guilt slowly replaced the terror. She bent double, sobbing. She had run away, not to save her sisters, but to save herself. She ran because of fear. How could she do that, not caring what happened to the only fems in the world who had ever shown her love? Veenah would never forgive her. She'd never forgive herself.

Rok slowly caught her breath and her mind began to clear. Yes, she ran, but now she must think. What had happened? Why? What should she do right now? What would Aga do?

"How do I solve this?" She shouted into the darkness. Moonlight began to shed light into the badlands and Rok oriented herself. Lumps rose on her head, causing a painful thumping inside Her hands stung from the scrapes and cuts she'd gotten on her wild slide. She picked slivers of rock from her palms then brushed off her hands on her stagskin tunic.

"I'll live. I've had worse falls than this, but those rocks hit harder than Aga ever did." She flexed her back, letting her long, heavy braids fall behind her shoulders. The bruises would hurt for a few days, but nothing was broken. Lona always said I have a hard head.

She scanned the horizon, now visible against the moonlit sky. Her heart squeezed almost to a halt. A bluish dome of light covered the village. A sob escaped her and she sunk to her knees.

The Zid rock harvester rumbled just over the ridge tearing chunks from Terah. The Zid. At least that's what Terians called the greasy, gray, lizard beings. Not even the elders knew what they called themselves because no one understood their language of whistles, croaks, and grunts. But she understood their eyes, cold and cruel. Their only interest in Terians was as food – or slaves. She alone had survived the blast, but only because she shoved herself away from her beloved sisters.

Her legs stopped working and she slumped to the ground thrashing in the pain of loss. If she'd held tight to Stix, her sisters would be here with her now. The training she'd received as a warrior had failed her. Leaving in order to save herself had cost her everything. How could she ever live with the guilt? The ground shook under her and shards of her homeland flew into the air. The beings who ruled Terah were merciless. Rok had no doubt, not one Terian was left alive.

Why hadn't her hearth mothers seen the attack coming? At least one warrior fem should have been standing watch. But the elders insisted the entire village attend the bonding. Rok lay on her back and kicked her heels into the ground.

"Why? Why? Why?" She sobbed and cried out until her throat burned and she choked. Her hearth mothers had always taught her, where there is life there is hope. She was alive, but in her heart, she knew hope had fled in the face of the Zid rock harvester. She drew her long-knife from its sheath, and struggled to her feet. Every movement brought physical pain as well as a deepening ache in her heart.

She knew what she had to do. The blade, as long as her arm from elbow to fingertips, was sharp. Even the point and the back of the blade for the span of a hand's width carried an edge sharp enough to split a tuber which was dropped on it. It was a blade meant for fighting, for killing. She gripped the haft with both hands and placed the gleaming point at the soft spot just below her ribs. For her betrayal, she would offer her own life as a penance to Veenah.

But the voices of her hearth mothers screamed in the back of her mind. Where there is breath, there is fight. Where there is fight, there is a chance for survival. Where a warrior survives, there is hope for the world. As long as you breathe, you must fight. To give up is to leave the entire world with no hope. Her hands trembled and lost their grasp on the knife. It clattered to the rocky terrain. But, was there a world left to give hope to?

"Where can I possibly go?" Her trembling hand went to the necklace hidden under her tunic. A fresh stab of guilt flooded her. A fem was not allowed to carry anything other than her knife and blanket. But she'd taken it in spite of the law. Her blood-mother, Lona, had crafted the multi-colored beads, adding five beautiful shells. Each bead had meaning in color or shape. Each shell represented her new sisters. It was a bonding gift which would forever remind her of her transgression. A fresh flood of tears spilled from her eyes. As Rok's fingers traced the intricate designs of the shells, an idea snuck into her mind.

Traders, wandering bands of homeless fems, often came to her village. As a young child, she was not allowed near these wild Terians. But, she listened to their tales of surging, salt-filled waters which spanned the horizon to the edge of Terah, and trees so tall they reached into Veenah. Maybe she could join one of these traveling femtogs.

Lona, her blood-mother, had been a member of a roving band before coming to their village. Her fair skin and nearly white hair had earned her ridicule and torment, despite her enormous strength and cunning skill as a warrior and hunter. She snuck out of her village with the traders, but when they came into this valley, so long ago, the sister-wives of her syr, Brand, were drawn to her. Lona had been accepted into the clan and into the femtog. It was natural that Rok do the same. Maybe I'll find a femtog with a syr who will adopt me like my hearth mothers adopted Lona.

Rok rarely thought of the prophecy. She didn't believe in it. But one verse stayed with her. Could she be the child who drew strength from the white breast? Could there be any truth to the old stories? "I've been spared because Veenah has chosen me. I'll run until I find fems willing to follow me and learn what this prophecy means." Her deadly weapon shimmered in Moonlight and she returned it to her sheath.

Speaking aloud into the darkness brought comfort and encouragement. She could leave this place behind. But she'd never outdistance the pain in her heart. She'd given herself to the most loving fems anyone could hope for. She couldn't walk away. Instead, her feet turned back toward the place she once called home. The ground rolled under her feet as she ran.

A great sheet of rock appeared to stand on edge within the light cast by the Zid rock harvester. The sight stunned her. Then she saw the reptilian beings riding their flying vessels within the light. And she saw two Zid slip over the precipice, dropping down to walk on their hands and feet, with their scaly tails snaking behind them.

Rok drew her knife as rage once again boiled up into her throat. She took a step and another then ran toward the enemies who had taken her home.

Zid never walked on all fours unless they were hunting Terians. Living Terians.

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