Record of Ashes War

Chapter 9 - Light on the Horizon

Sar'tara, being the first of her sisters to awaken, found her joints going rigid upon seeing the large women gathered at the entrance to the village. She fumbled for her bow. It was not strapped to her back. She was met instead with stinging pain from stretching the torn parts of her skin. She stepped about deliriously while feeling her legs for a knife. Her hands found nothing but skin. She'd forgotten her weapons. Grimacing, she spun in search of something to use with which to defend herself. It took many breaths for haze to clear from her memory.

The Kreiva Vashiri were no longer enemies. Just as Stel'Na had said, their huntresses had arrived to receive ashes of their fallen. They whispered amongst themselves, standing just outside the village fence. They gestured in Sar'tara's direction and stole wary glances, as if half expecting a conflict to break out.

Sar'tara stumbled over to the group of Kreivans. They shifted their feet. Their caution disappeared upon seeing her approach alone and unarmed. She saw then just how shattered they looked. The prideful Kreiva were standing with their heads low and shoulders slumped. She wondered how much of that was due to pride alone and how much was due to the pain of losing fellow tribe members. Fellow sisters. Ny'Danis, why? One of them stood up.

"I, Rea Vashiri, offer my greetings."

Sar'tara nodded, recognizing the familiar face. She opened her mouth to speak but coughed instead. It felt as if dry dirt had been rubbed along the insides of her cheeks. Her tongue swished about, trying to moisten its surroundings but it was just as dry as every other part.

Rea held up a waterskin. Sar'tara looked up with narrowed eyes and the woman offered a soft smile. A genuine smile. Sar'tara looked down. The Kreiva wouldn't poison her. If they wanted her dead, she would've been dead already. "Drink, sister," Rea said. "A dry mouth is a terrible feeling."

Sar'tara nodded, taking the waterskin. Rea maintained a kind expression. She had full lips that didn't seem to fit on a face with a strong jawline unless she were smiling. Her black hair had been separated into three braids, all of them tied at the base with bone ornaments. "Thank you," Sar'tara grumbled after having taken a few sips.

"Did my fellow sisters fight valiantly at least?"

Sar'tara's crushed the waterskin in her hands. No, they died pitifully she wanted to say. Her face grew hot. She had an urge to spit in the woman's face. Deep rooted negative feelings sprouted to the forefront of her thoughts.

"I'm sorry. That was the wrong question," Rea quickly said. "I-there's no adults left among us. Everyone —everyone that participated I mean— they really meant to wipe out the Selharr. We few remained and are the last of the Kreiva adults." Rea turned her head away, a tear drop falling out of her eye. "This was a terrible affair. We have near seventy children left in our village. They'll never again see their elder sisters whom they looked up to. I imagine it's much the same for you."

Sar'tara closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. The pain of loss was not an easy thing to forget. But the women before her were her siblings. They were grieved too. They'd lost members of their tribe much the same. "Your sisters… No. Our sisters. They fought well," Sar'tara said. "They were brave and strong. They were terribly difficult to kill. I say this out of respect. Their strength was beyond our imagining." It was the truth. As irrational as their attack plan was, the Kreiva fought without weapons. They knowingly charged straight into a tribe of expert archers without a shred of hesitation. A tribe known to use poisons as well.

"Thank you for those words, Sister Sar'tara. Please, give us the ashes of our huntresses and we will be on our way. We do not want to remain here. The sight of us may cause grievances and frighten the younger ones."

"The war is over. We are all daughters of the Great Mother. Yesterday was a day of death. There shouldn't be any hate left between us," Sar'tara said, doubting her own words and suppressing that doubt at the same time. "It will be better to rid ourselves of any painful feelings rather than potentially harbor a grudge for years to come. I ask that you join us for a feast. I don't imagine our Mother relishes the thought of her daughters constantly in violent conflict with one another." I didn't imagine she'd ever allow it at all.

Rea considered a moment, glancing back at the other Kreiva. They nodded towards her. "Then we will stay a while longer."

As expected, the atmosphere in the village was full of tension once most Selharri had awakened. The girls especially kept their distance, huddled together like a herd and muttering amongst themselves while shuffling their feet, unaware that their words were loud enough to catch. The youngest one never left her hut. Sar'tara spotted Tavi constantly poking her head out an empty doorway. She made her way over to the girl. "Frightened?"

Tavi shook her head. Her wet eyes gave away the obvious lie.

Sar'tara lent a hand. "They won't hurt you," she assured.

"But Freya's gone because of them!" Tavi suddenly screamed.

Sar'tara kept her hand outstretched. Freya was the most loved amongst the girls. "Not them. The ones that attacked are gone. It's… It's not right that you hate them…" Sar'tara swallowed hard, finding her own voice cracking at the memory of Freya's final smile. Tavi didn't budge. Sar'tara picked the girl up with both arms and carried her off, using her as an excuse to hold on to someone else's warmth. Tavi squealed but didn't thrash about like Sar'tara had expected. She set the girl down before the group of Kreivans. "Greet yourself," she whispered, kneeling before Tavi and holding her hands.

"T-Tavi Vash-iw-shri," she managed as her knees trembled. She was on the verge of tears and opened her mouth to cry out. One of the Kreivan women quickly pushed a dark piece of meat into her mouth to stuff her voice. Tavi's eyes went wide in horror.

"Eat and grow strong!" the woman declared.

Sar'tara flinched, hand reaching down for the knives she didn't have.

Rea slapped the woman across the face. "That is no way to treat a child, Nyla. She could choke on it."

Tavi was already crying. Crying while chewing. "Ish weally good," she croaked. Sar'tara glanced at her and relaxed her arms.

"Of course it is! Its bear meat. Salted might I add. Collected and filtered from the sediment in the river. We only brought ten small pieces!" Nyla said.

Rea gasped. "You fool! Bear meat is too tough for children. She could lose her teeth trying to grind that down."

Sar'tara stood up, eyes narrowing. The Kreiva had come with a tribute as a sign of reconciliation. "You tried leaving early without offering your gift, Sister Rea?"

"That was not our intent. The gift is an offering. We declared a war and we lost it. I meant to leave it here."

Sar'tara nodded, biting her lips. She still wasn't comfortable with their presence and was regretting asking them to stay. She looked back. No one else from the Selharr were approaching the few Kreivan women. They needed to bond. As pained as Sar'tara felt, letting the Kreiva leave with this kind of an atmosphere would lead to further feelings of enmity. Mother should have stopped us. Should have been here. Should be here now…

A sudden thought occurred to Sar'tara. "Tavi, stay here," she ordered. She ran to the storehouse and returned with a small clay jar and a bundle of dried herbs. "Our own salt collection. We haven't figured an appropriate time to use it. I feel now would be best," Sar'tara said, feigning a smile to hide her clenched teeth. Wasting such precious resources on the Kreiva… No. She was using them on her sisters. She needed to wash away her own disdainful feelings. "Some dried rosemary and thyme as well. This feast ought to be memorable!" She needed this as much as the other Selharr. Good food and drink would do well to mediate between negative feelings.

"A happy memory to wash yesterday's sorrow?" Rea asked.

"Yes. Exactly that."

The women set themselves to work, placing the meat on stone slabs used for cutting. They rubbed the aromatic herbs and salt into the meat and allowed it to sit so that it would become more fragrant with the passage of time. A few sisters were set to guard the food from prowling carrion birds perched on shedding branches. The tense atmosphere slowly but surely began to dissipate.

Stel'Na was the last to awake out of all the Selharr, her appearance disheveled as had become the norm for her after a night of drinking. She stumbled about while mumbling incomprehensible words, squinting with a scowl as Selharr and Kreiva mingled. She examined the food set about the stone slabs and bent down to pick one up.

Sar'tara slapped away her eldest sister's hand. "Not until evening!" she announced with her hands on her hips, knowing it to be extremely rude. Some of the girls giggled, earning themselves a foggy eyed glare from Stel'Na. More, Sar'tara thought. They needed to laugh more. "Did Mother ever tell you the stories of Lilith Lilac?" she asked, raising her voice.

"What of it?" Stel'Na groaned.

"I always had this image of her. A woman whose beauty even Mother praised. A peerless beauty that had brought with it arrogance. And in her arrogance, she fell from her high standing and became the hideous eight eyed and eight legged creature known as Griva."

"I seem to recall a story like that. There is a valuable lesson in it. I'm certain Mother related that story to all of us at one point of our childhood. What is its relevance here?"

Sar'tara's lips thinned and spread wide. Stel'Na frowned at the mischievous smile. "If you had four pairs of eyes, Sister, you'd be the spitting image of Griva. Or Griva how I imagined her, with frizzled grey hair and baggy red eyes."

Everyone laughed at the remark. Evidently, they all knew the story. Stel'Na didn't look displeased. She knew Sar'tara's true intent was to ease any remaining tensions between the two tribes.

Kiali suddenly came from behind Sar'tara and slapped her back, causing her to cry out. "This coming from the woman that looked like red skinned Heartless yesterday! At least our Kreivan Sisters had the decency to paint intricate patterns on themselves whereas you just dipped your face into a pile of blood and dirt!"

Sar'tara glared at Kiali. "That is not how I remember things!"

"Same here! But exaggerating events is certainly much more entertaining than simply recounting them!"

"Maybe I ought to recount exactly how I came to look like that!" Sar'tara said, fists closed. She knew herself to be going too far. She was glad Kiali had regained some of her heart.

Both sisters cried out as Stel'Na grabbed them by the ear. "Or maybe I should recount how the both of you stepped in deer droppings when I took you out for a practice hunt all those years ago. It never happened, but it'd make for an amusing story."

Everyone was laughing by this point in time. The slightly deeper voiced Kreivans laughed louder than most. Sar'tara closed her eyes and took in the sounds. This was it. This was what she wanted. What should always have been. The war should have never happened… Why did the Vashiri live separate from each other? Why couldn't they always be together? Always be this merry?

Competition.

But was that the only answer? Would Ny'Danis allow them to kill each other just for competition? Sar'tara thought harder, wearing a smile and laughing along when others did as well. Is it specialization? Each Vashiri tribe excelled at different types of combat. Used different weapons. Sar'tara glanced at a Kreivan. Or no weapons. Was it to counter the varying threats from the outside? Was that enough to allow bloodshed between siblings?

She pushed her worries to the back of her mind. She rejoined her sisters in full, letting herself feel the enjoyment of the feast. Though, the feelings never entered her heart as they once did when celebrating successful hunts with her Selharr sisters. It instead danced upon her skin and flitted away at every intrusion of silence —no matter how slight that silence was.

Come nightfall, the Vashiri feasted upon their earlier prepared foods. They shared stories of embarrassment amongst each other. And they drank themselves unconscious. Sar'tara once again drank to drown her worries and sorrows. By the movements of some of her sisters —Kreivans included, they did the same. All around them, everflowers glowed.

***

Sar'tara twisted her lush hair to rid it of any excess water from her bath. Her wounds had closed and her insides felt a lot more stable. Though, her head throbbed from too much drinking. The Kreiva had left early in the morning, showing no signs of a hangover. They truly had different bodies.

No nymphs were at the spring. Sar'tara had spotted a green skinned dryad sitting in a leafless tree a while back but it was now gone. She wondered if it was because of the war. If they'd been frightened off after all of the killing. It would only have been natural. She returned to the village, keeping her head low. It felt strange without the nymphs. Hollow even. Though Sar'tara wasn't fond of them, their presence was something she'd come to accept as normal. Without them, a piece of herself felt missing.

She entered the Selharr village, passing by some girls who were on their way to the spring. Others practiced archery whilst a few more aided their elders in gathering firewood or creating medicines. Kiali was going over her weapons. It was her turn to hunt next. Sar'tara wondered if anything would even count towards a huntress's merit at this point. The village still needed food. As such, a huntress needed to go out. But the Selharr had six adults remaining —one a retired Guardian who no longer left for hunts. Was it even possible to send anyone to the Guardian Trials with such a small number remaining?

Sar'tara wasn't certain if she'd done enough to prove herself during the war. No council had been held to decide upon it. Stel'Na and Kiali were the last of the council left alive. But Sar'tara needed to go. The Guardian Trials —her lifelong goal— was now just an afterthought. She needed to go for answers. She had so many questions for Ny'Danis.

"I'm sending you to see Mother in a few days," Stel'Na said as Sar'tara walked by.

Sar'tara nodded, waving her hand offhandedly. "Yes. I need to see Mother more than I want to see… What?" She looked up, incredulous.

"I'm sending you and Kiali to take the Guardian Trials. You two have proven yourselves. As one of the last remaining members of our council, I've taken it upon myself to see this through."

Sar'tara opened her mouth to speak. And then closed it. Ny'Danis' beautiful face surfaced in her mind. Silver hair and multi-colored eyes. She suddenly remembered everything. She hugged herself, imagining her Mother's caring embrace. Imagining her singing voice and boundless warmth. Everything, every negative thought, question, or doubt left her. Ny'Danis wasn't wrong. Couldn't be wrong. She had reasons. Must have reasons. She was a deity.

Stel'Na walked away to go and inform Kiali. Sar'tara blinked a few times. She looked around the Selharr village. It was empty. Emptier than it should have been. All her doubts came back in a torrent, threatening to swallow her and carry her away to a distant abyss. Everything Sar'tara had worked towards had come to fruition. Her life goal, her heart's desire, now in her hands. She would once again get to see her beloved Mother. Her eyes ran through the dirt paths of the village. She didn't see brown. She saw disgust. Dark red mingled with soil to create a thick and putrid stench hanging in the air. Corpses littered everywhere. Bodies of Selharr and Kreiva alike. Bodies of her siblings. Siblings that she should have loved as much as her Mother, but had never learned to love. Women that she had slain as if they were outsiders invading.

Kiali approached, wearing a wide but obviously fake smile. Sar'tara wrapped her arms around her sister, holding her tight. Kiali did the same. Sar'tara was happy. But also not. She didn't know what to feel. A drop of water fell on her shoulder. She heard Kiali sniffle. "It's alright," Sar'tara whispered. "Mother will help us. She has her reasons for allowing all that has come to pass."

Kiali pulled away, nodding, wiping her tears. "I'm embarrassing, aren't I? I'm breaking down when I'm the older one. So much for Kiali the Cruel."

"That epithet was never meant to be positive."

"I wear it nonetheless. It sticks. Especially after what I did during the battle."

"What we all did…" Sar'tara said softly.

"But Mother cannot be wrong."

Sar'tara looked up. Kiali's voice had no confidence. She nodded. But she didn't believe it. And she knew Kiali had her doubts as well.

***

Stel'Na stepped out and kissed both huntresses on the forehead. A few days had passed since she'd made her decision. Sar'tara and Kiali had recovered from their wounds. But their faces bore no traces of excitement. Unhealed scars remained on their hearts just as everyone else.

"May Ny'Danis' blessing be upon you two always," Stel'Na said. The rest of the Selharr stood lined up behind her to bid the huntresses farewell. "We will pray for your success and safe return. But that will ultimately depend on you and you alone. Neither of you will be a helper to the other during your Trials. The Trials are conducted alone. I cannot reveal any more information. These will be my last words to you, Kiali, Sar'tara. Keep your wits about you at all times. Trust in yourself, and only yourself. Believe in your strength and all that you've been taught. The blood of a Goddess courses through your veins. Farewell, my beloved sisters. We will see each other again, once you've become Guardians."

"Farewell, Sister Stel'Na," the two huntresses said in unison. They both gave formal bows before turning to leave.

Stel'Na watched them disappear into the thick of the forest. She closed her eyes and tilted her head towards the sky. A part of her regretted the decision. The village would struggle for a while with so few adults remaining. Decades had passed and the Selharr hadn't produced a single Guardian. But that wasn't why Stel'Na had sent them. Sar'tara and Kiali were among the best the Selharr had ever seen in a long while. Better than me, even, when I was their age. They needed to succeed. The Papillion's numbers dwindled. The strongest of the tribes, the Krieva, were down to mostly children as well.

It hadn't happened in over two centuries. Or that was what Ny'Danis had said. An outside invasion had last occurred over two hundred years past. There were always small groups of bandits or lone thieves trying to sneak their way in. Guardians handled them with ease. But the Vashiri tribes had been through three wars in the last sixty years. Ny'Danis could only birth so many children. Stel'Na feared for the fate of the forest. If her Mother's stories had indicated anything, it was that the humans outside were unrelenting in their hunger for power. The Tortured King himself was once a human. And yet he'd managed to nearly wipe life off the face of Illusterra.

Stel'Na opened her eyes and balled her fists. She had utmost confidence in Sar'tara and Kiali. But most of all, they needed to succeed in the Guardian Trials for the sake of the forest. There was no telling when outsiders would once again throw themselves at the trees in search for the Divine Artifacts.