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[Synopsis] [Prologue] [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4]

CHAPTER TWO


      She sat with her back against an ancient oak-nut tree. In the shadowy solitude of the Mamtaust Forest, Girmer tried to understand the strange recurring dream. Wanting to relax, the lone woman hoped the warmth of the mid-rise sun would purify her ebony skin. A giant blue black cat lay content with its head in her lay. Idly scratching behind the cat's ears, she closed her eyes and remembered the vivid beauty of Aszia. The giant woman let her mind drift to a land of pale green valleys and gentle hills. To a people deeply rooted in tradition, where respect and honor were taught. Exhausted from lack of sleep, she began reliving the events that left her marooned in this salvage land nearly five cycles ago.
      Girmer recalled the ruling council's decision that isolation was no longer in the best interest of the Aszian people. And how the newly formed Trade Commission had convinced the elders that Aszia needed to expand its trade routs to include the content of Auxnurs. Her people's knowledge of the sea extended only to sailing small pleasure crafts. Because of this, the Trade Commission, with the approval of the elders hired the Silver Dust for the long sea voyage. Due to Aszian's ancient mistrust of outsiders, eight elite couriers were chosen. The eight had both diplomatic and tactical training.
     As the group boarded the ship, a woman two meter one in height was introduced as Girmer, the official translator. The captain discovered, regardless of her almost savage beauty and thick accent, little said would go unnoticed. The translator felt uncomfortable with the crews' comments about the independence of Aszian women.
     Though the crews' remarks were generally degrading, neither Girmer or her comrades were concerned for their safety. Seven of the emissaries were warriors first, diplomats second. The commission had ordered tolerance when dealing with these foreign males. It was important that they remember, they were traveling to a land where males ruled.
     With the boredom of sea travel, the women were lured into the sense of false security. Twelve rises from the coast of Auxnurs, Girmer knew something was wrong. The crew's language became vulgar. They no longer whispered their crude jokes and remarks. The captain started questing her about Aszian culture and battle strategy. It was then the caption and crew began to show their true nature.
     With the captain's approval, the crew disregarded their passengers' privacy, often entering their cabins while the women were on deck. The captain knew ebony skin was rarely seen in Auxnurs. Women such as these could bring a high price in the markets of Lours. Only Laron, the eldest of the women, refusal to leave her cabin unoccupied prevented them from searching it.
     In the darkness of early rise, Captain Bushil ordered the Aszian representatives' weapons removed and their cabin's bolted from the outside. Believing there possibly could be a feeble attempt for escape, he ordered a bowmen's mate posted in the narrow passage. Bushil felt any real man could handle a woman. He believed a few of his men might receive minor injuries. There could also be minimum damage to valuable property. Confident with the plan, Bushil ignored Girmer's comment of all Aszian females, except those entering the callings of User or healer, were expected to master the art of weaponry by their fourteenth cycle.
     At first rise, seven of the women were dressed in leather breast plates and loin cloths. The warriors, armed with short swords and curved daggers, had a small gray dagger painted on their temples. Knowing the treachery of males, the women realized actions such as this should have been expected. When males were left to their own accord, the dark side always emerged.
     Girmer and her comrades offered prayers to Nyama, for the protection of lost souls. In quite determination, the chants for death and honor were recited. After the chanting, the only woman still dressed in traveling clothing oversaw the ritual of blood. This ritual ended with each woman pricking the skin on the forearm of her sister. By mixing their blood, a fallen comrade could live on. Knowing this battle would be to the death, each woman prepared for the loss of her life force. Aszians were slaves to no male.
     The guard, hearing their prayers, informed Bushil his prize was going to cause trouble. Recognizing the chants of a User, the captain watched the hinges to the cabin door explode. The splintered door burst into the ship's narrow hallway. Bushil forgot about the eighth woman, Laron. She stayed to herself, venturing out only for meals. He assumed she carried their diplomatic papers. Now he knew better. He also realized the woman called Laron transported companions to her cabin.
     Bushil and five crew members stood near the shattered door, watching the armed women. On Bushil's orders, the first mate removed the weapons during the moon-rise meal. Seeing the hatred and mistrust in their eyes, the captain and first mate realized the User had retrieved their weapons. Captain Beshil knew he would loose a few of his men. These women not only knew how to hold a weapon, but could probably use them effectively. He cursed under his breath when he remembered these women were warriors.
     Ignoring his first mate, Bushil pointed at Laron. "Get rid of da User. We can't a'ford a fire this fer from land. Teach em winches what a battle is. Remind em of a woman's place. Their trainin' ain't nothin', they're just women."
     Girmer grasped her sword and quickly sliced through the nearest man. She climb the dimly lit stairs to natural light. Before her eyes could adjust to the brightness, she felt a blunt blow to the back of her head. She slipped on the partially scrubbed deck. Fighting the darkness that began to surround her, she heard the captain yell. "No wounds. Scarin' might lower er value." A second blow caused her to surrender to endless sleep.
     Through Nyama's blessing, Girmer was spared the horror and dishonor that befell her comrades. Accustomed to land warfare, the small vessel made the battle one sided. By the end of the skirmish, Girmer was the sole surviving Aszian. The captain believed coin for her would be well worth his inconvenience. A splash of cold sea water and a kick to the ribs pulled Girmer from darkness. When she tried to move, she discovered her hands and feet were bound with thin hemp rope.
     She heard her captor's voice. "Cause of ya, an them there other wenches, I lost five good men. By da third void of Darcon's dwellin', ya'd better be worth all my trouble."
     Disgraced by her survival, Girmer understood the battle's shameful outcome. She also knew why she survived, and what had happened to her comrades. Twisting in the direction of the voice, her emerald eyes revealed her hatred. Hoping to anger her captor into removing her life force, she spat in the captain's face.
     Beshil back-handed her and snickered. "No. Wench, yer gonna live." Then wiped the spittle from his cheek. Beshil grabbed her by the hair and jerked her to her knees. He forced her to look at him. Slapping her again, he held her chin between his thumb forefinger and squeezed before whispering, "Listen ta me wench, one way or another, ya'll learn yer place."
     Beshil shoved Girmer to the deck causing her to land near one of the bodies. Pointing at the Aszian bodies he yelled. "Toss em bodies overboard, an' burn da papers. I don't want no questions 'bout dar disappearance."
     A young crewman, still excited by the battle grabbed one of the fallen women by the shoulders. He released his grip when she started to moan. "Hey, captin', what 'bout this un? She's still alive?"
     Beshil looked at the injured woman. Jerking his thumb toward the port side, he said, "So, she won't be fer long." As he started for the wheel, he glanced at Girmer. "Throw er in da hold." Looking down at her, he warned, "Learn ta be nice, or get use ta da stench."
     As the crewman shoved her in the hold. he cut her bounds. Confused, dishonored, and stripped of her pride and heritage, she began weeping for her fallen comrades and the loss of her freedom. In the filth and darkness, Girmer heard a weak yowl. She found a big cat near death. The female cat was bleeding from several sword wounds.
     Beside the cat were five badly beaten kittens. Only one, an abnormally large black kitten was still alive. The frightened woman watched the big cat's life force flee its body. As life's light dimmed from it eyes, she felt more than heard it tell her to care for the blue-kitten.
     Deep within Girmer, an ancient almost forgotten memory began to emerge. She knew in time the kitten would protect her. The kitten didn't fight her when she picked it up. She held the kitten close to her breast.
     The sound of the hatch opening over head caused her to look up. Blinded by the brightness of natural light, she felt a small flask and rag land beside her. Before the hatch slammed shut she heard, "Clean yerself up. If ya behave yerself an learn yer place, da captin' might let ya smell clean air a'fore land fall."
     The kitten rumbled a warning. Even in its weakened condition, it was trying to protect her. She smiled at the kitten's feeble attempt. Ignoring her own injuries, she began cleaning the animal's wounds. If by the blessing of Nyama, she and the cat survived, she would call it Star Danc - - in memory of the Old-ones.
     Even after five cycles the memories of her enslavement angered her. Ignoring her emotions, Girmer to reach for her pack. Besides what was necessary for survival, her pack contained green leather package. Within its folds was the ceremonial dress, and dagger of her people, along with a small vile of gray paint.
     This and Star Danc was all she salvaged from the shipwreck that made her escape possible. Refusing to let the past bring her any more pain, Girmer whispered. "I vow my sisters, I shall destroy those who have violated you and survived. There shall be justice." Girmer's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of twigs snapping near the tree she was sitting under. Star Danc lifted his head and sniffed the air. The big cat's purrs turned to a low rumble, warning her of possible danger. Girmer replaced her sword with a boot knife, and signaled for the cat to investigate. Wishing there was company for the sake of safety, she climbed the tree and waited. Though concerned, she wasn't worried. Little could harm a cat two thirds the size of most mortal kind. The cat was capable of handling any forest creature. However, this forest was rumored to be inhabited by hunchens. These vile, treacherous creatures laid in ambush for the foolish or careless traveler. Their sole existence was the destruction of mortal kind.
     Legend had it, hunchens seldom preyed on animals. Girmer once heard that an insane User created them from river reed and red mud. Proud of his creation, the User, foolishly made a pack with Darcon. This pack caused a rip in the balance between dark and light. One that only the brave, or very foolish might attempt to mend, if it could be mended. Star Danc let out a shrill yowl, letting Girmer know there was nothing for her to worry about.
     Fen-Rod ignored the sound of twigs braking under his feet. A few sprigs of Chamomile caught his interest. He was unaware of the cat's presence. When he heard the cat's yowl, he slowly turned to look. The same terror he felt after waking from his dream ripped through him. Fen-Rod stood where he was, closed his eyes and whispered. "Oh, dog droppings. I hope you belong to someone."
     He knew it was impossible to out run something nearly twice his size. Fen-Rod was careful not to make any sudden movements that might make him the cat's next meal. He searched for its master, or any options he might have. Not seeing anyone, he yelled. "I'm forced to leave my clan because of dreams that won't let me sleep. Now I'm to be eaten by a demon that looks like no cat I've ever seen. That's just what I need to make life worth living."
     As the cat moved toward , Fen-Rod's mind raced. "Please belong to something at least mortal". He tried to back up, but tree branches blocked his retreat. He looked around for anything he could use to protect himself, then grabbed the ax Simeral gave him. Holding it awkwardly, he remembered what the Map Maker told him. 'Sometimes only a threat is enough.'
     Healers were morally bound to heal, regardless of personal danger. But this animal wanted to eat him. The cat's pupils drained of color when it saw the weapon in Fen-Rod's hand. The healer watched in horror as the cat's colorless eyes reflected his own terror.
     Shaking his head, Fen-Rod said, "If I'm to be eaten, then let me lose my life force with the honor of my calling." And dropped the hand holding the ax to his side and waited for the cat's attack.
     As Star Danc prepared to spring, Girmer's mind ordered him to restrain, not harm. Any creature prepared to lose their life force because of honor, earned the right to be heard.
     Slowing easing the weapon to the ground, Fen-Rod stammered. "N- -nice kitty? I won't move, i- - if you don't." Searching the forest shadows, he shouted. "By my grandfather's beard, will someone tell this cat I wouldn't make a decent meal!"
     "Stand still. Animals can smell fear. Do as you are told. You shall not be harmed. Tell me of your dreams. Is it the same as mine? This talk of dreams is all that saves your hairy hide."
     "Tell you of my dreams! How can I? Show yourself. I don't talk to shadows." Fen-Rod turned his back to the voice that had commanded him. He mumbled. "No unseen voice is going to tell me what to do. Cat or no cat, I still have my pride."
     This time, using an almost pleading tone; the hidden female voice spoke again. "Strange one, I will let no harm come to you. I need to know if your dreams are the same as mine. If they are, then we can travel as one. If not, then the most you will have lost is a little pride and a small amount of time. Tell me of your dreams."
     "Show yourself first. Call your black demon, then we talk."
     Girmer dropped from the trees and ordered Star Danc to guard. She shook her head and stared at Fen-Rod. Laughing, she scratched Star Danc's neck. "I though this was a hunchen. This thing has no more size than a young child."
     "Thing! Listen to yourself, as big as you are, y- -you hide in trees. I may not be a big as you, but I am mortal." Fen-Rod crossed his arms across his broad chest. Controlling his temper, he added, "Well it can't hurt to talk, and traveling alone makes one nervous."
     With the immediate fear of hunchens gone, Girmer asked, "What are you? Does your kind have names? You are formed like no life force I have ever seen." As an after thought she added, "Are you male or female?"
     Taken back by Girmer's blunt questions, Fen-Rod demanded, "What difference does my sex make?" Not waiting for her to answer, he continued. "I've seen a lot of things in my travels. However, I have never seen a woman warrior as tall or as dark as you. Your ability to control a cat that can look into the third void and walk away unharmed is something I've never heard of. What is that cat anyway?"
     Girmer stroked the cat's head. "This is Star Dance. We travel as one."
     Fen-Rod gave an inconveniencing nod. "Ah- - well, we've both learned something today."
     Taking a flask of ale from his pack, Fen-Rod offered the first drink to Girmer as a token of respect for the fragile beginning of a new friendship. Suspicious, Girmer glanced at Star Danc. The big cat, ignoring Fen-Rod, laid under a small tree calmly grooming himself. She knew it was safe to drink the foul smelling liquid.
     She raised the flask to her mouth and tipped it. A small amount of the foaming, pale brown, bitter liquid flow down her throat. She handed the flask back to Fen-Rod. The healer swallowed deeply and wiped his hairy chin with the back of his hand. In the graying shadows of the ancient forest, each told of the events that led them to the forest. Within the safety of a fire's flickering shadows, Fen-Rod told her what Karanna had said about their mutual dreams.
     With a traveling companion and a fire, Girmer could relax. Perhaps Nayama had answered her prayers. Was it possible that in meeting this hairy stranger, the dreams would become less haunting and frequent?
     She nodded in approval. Maybe the Dream Master is in need of my talents. I may yet have the chance to avenge those who betrayed my people and caused my dishonor. Yes, I will travel this place called Quasta.

[Synopsis] [Prologue] [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4]