Arriane

Twilight’s End is in a desert, and was about a month’s travel distant through some of the most beautiful countryside I’ve ever seen. We moved up from the forest into a high plains area, skirting the Western Mountains that challenged the sky as we wandered south. It was full of life and wonder, and other travelers were rare and pleasant - or at least, not unpleasant.

Sal spent it working on her songs, and I listened with numb ears as she sang bad rhymes about my exploits. Churchmouse spent it glaring at the universe, eating, and doing his part to fertilize the area. And I moped.

Every hint of ability felt like a knife to my self-worth. Every time I jogged with even breath, or lifted something without effort. Every time I would read tracks like others read novels or souls, or look at the lay of the land and know where I could find water, which areas had predators and should be avoided, which were likely to be inhabited. Every little thing I did felt tainted. I no longer had ownership of any of it - it was all stolen, magic that should have belonged to some unnamed prince. So I went about my days with a cloud of doubt overcasting my life, like a shroud that leached away happiness and pride.

Sal put it up with it for two weeks, to give me time to collect some rope to hang myself with. And then she kicked my ass.

* * *

I was woken by a boot to my side toppling me from the wagon. Instinct demanded I roll, but I was groggy and slow so I only made it halfway. I landed on my arm hard, muffling a cry from the sharp pain as muscles and bones protested. I forced myself to continue, shoving myself to my feet even as I drew Binder and looked around wildly for our attackers. It took me a few minutes to recognize Sal’s silhouette, outlined by the first few rays of the dawn.

Her voice came out of the dark, disembodied and remote. “Better than I hoped. But still pitiful.” She threw something at me, and I watched dully as it clattered to my feet. I reached down slowly and picked it up, recognizing my practice sword from the rough feel of the handle. I wanted to roll my eyes. What was the point? But I sheathed Binder and took a two-handed grip with the wooden blade.

Despite my best efforts, my voice sounded whiny. “Sal, there’s no point-” But then she rushed at me and I had to move to defend. But I was sluggish and she was just a shape blurring in the morning light, and I watched helplessly as she slammed past my defenses, forcing me to let go of the sword as she moved in and slammed her elbow into my gut. I bent over double, the breath whooshing out of me, and had to put my hands on my knees to not fall over. I just sat like that for a moment trying to catch my breath, and then Sal kicked my sword back to my feet.

Her voice was unchanged from before. “Again.”

I growled and picked my sword back up. Anger at her ambushing me like this fueled me and cleansed the fog from my mind, and I felt the bounce return to my step as I got ready. Sal can usually beat me hand-to-hand - despite all my efforts at increasing my speed, she’s just too damn fast and tricky with grapples. But with swords I can use my size, strength and reach to keep her away and create openings. If she wanted to wake me up two hours early so I could beat her up, I was happy to oblige.

I stepped forward, feinting, and she reacted like I knew she would, sprinting toward me with her own sword low. I shifted back away, throwing my sword in a wide arc at her that would force her back and away - but goddamit, she was just too quick. I felt her hand, viselike on my wrist, and my fingers convulsed as she dug in and disarmed me for the second time in as many minutes. Her sword came up, and I winced as it slammed into my arm. She stepped forward and stared me in the eye as I clutched at my pulsing arm. “You are slow.” Then she stepped back and kicked my sword carelessly in my direction. “Again.”

I gritted my teeth. What was the point of that? I was always slow, compared to her. But I’ve never seen anyone as fast as Sal, so it seemed unrealistic. I picked up the sword and forced the pain away. Fine. Since she wanted it like that.

I gave a wordless shout and pounced forward, slamming down blows, using my longer sword and arms to keep her from retaliating effectively. She dodged me like flame in a wind, shifting side to side and sliding my strikes, but I was controlling the fight and we both knew it. I worked her around and… there. For a second, maybe less, she had both feet solidly planted. I surged forward and slammed my sword at her center of mass, and she had no other option than to brace and take the hit straight-on.

This was a tactic I’d used before, and I was unprepared when it failed utterly. I was expecting resistance that I would then break through. But it was like hitting an immovable wall, and I stared in shock as she blocked and then pushed my hands to the side. A chop to the inside my elbow disarmed me for the third time, and then her sword came around and struck my uninjured arm, and I winced. Again, she stepped into my personal space and looked at me in contempt. “You are weak. Again.”

I was still staring at her. My voice was a hoarse whisper. “You’ve been holding back.” It was just another blow to my pride, my achievements.

There was enough light now for me to make out the expression on her face, and it was furious. “No. No, Arriane, I have not held back for a long time. I give you my word.” She pointed the sword at me, and her voice was hard. “Now pick up your sword and try again.”

I glared at her. But then I took a step back, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. Anger leads to mistakes. Mistakes are bad. I centered myself, controlling my breathing, until I could feel my heart thump in time. I opened my eyes and felt a shred of confidence return. I nodded at her, and focused as she came at me.

It didn’t help at all.

It was like I had lost a step. Maybe even just half a step. But that was crucial, and I couldn’t recover from it. She was always just ahead of me, and that fraction of a second was enough that I couldn’t capitalize on her mistakes, couldn’t find the openings I needed. Every time she would disarm me, brutally or casually, almost negligent. I wondered if she was holding back, and realized to my shock that she didn’t need to.

And every time - “Weak. Slow. Unfocused. Unprepared.” The litany of insults were bad, but the scorn in her voice was worse. I was used to training hard, to putting in effort, but I couldn’t remember Sal ever being so… disappointed in me. I didn’t understand it. And the fatigue was catching up to me, Sal seeming to get even faster and stronger as I flagged. I glanced up, thinking surely it must be noon… but based on the sun barely an hour had passed.

After one pass I found myself on my hands and knees, breathing hard as I tried to keep from dry-heaving. Sal stood next to me, and I could feel her disgust like waves beating me down. “Done already? Worthless.”

I lashed out at her clumsily with one arm, and she dodged effortlessly. “I know!” Missing left me off balance, and I fell over onto my side. “I know! I’m just a girl, the magic is what’s good at this shit!” I curled up into a ball, and realized dimly that I was crying. I tried to stifle the tears - I am stronger than this, by all the gods - but it didn’t seem to help.

I could feel Sal’s mood turn like a switch, and she dropped to her knees beside me. “Oh, Arriane. Dear heart.” She pulled my head into her lap, and I tried stubbornly to resist even as she ignored my efforts. She leaned down and kissed my forehead, her voice a murmur. “I did not mean to press you quite this hard. Cry, child. Lessons are over for today. Just be yourself. There is no shame in it.”

So I sobbed out my tensions, the dark cloud since the revelation of my magic, and she held me and rocked me. She crooned a song, a wordless tune that took me back. It had been almost a decade since I’d been Sal’s arms like this, new to my tower, frightened and afraid and away from everything I knew and loved. Slowly I felt myself relax, my tears drying, until I was sitting in her lap listening to her soft music.

My voice was a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

She stroked my cheek. “No. I am sorry. Training must be hard, because life is hard. But it should not be cruel, and that is on me.” We sat in silence for a moment, and then her tone shifted, becoming questioning, and I recognized Teacher Sal again. “What lesson was I trying to teach?”

I still felt raw and hollow, and it was an effort to think. But at least the answer was obvious. “That I’m weak. Slow.”

“No.” She pressed one finger firmly to my nose, and I smiled slightly despite myself. “I said those words, yes. And they are true. But they are not you.” She stroked my hair. “I should make you figure this out, but today I think you deserve some mercy. You are weak and slow, yes. But that is not who you are. That is because you have neglected your body.”

I snorted, then decided it was a bad idea. It had sounded suspiciously like another sob. “I can’t, remember? Stupid story magic makes me strong. It has nothing to do with me.”

I felt her shake her head. “I am not stronger or faster. A month ago, you would have taken me 9 out of 10 times. Yet I overpowered you easily. The story is still active, the magic unlessened. The difference is you. Not the magic. You.” She squeezed my shoulder lightly, and her voice was amused. “Think, Arriane. Do you believe that the years you spent training were for nothing? That they were meaningless, that it was merely the act of deciding to rescue yourself that was important?”

I opened my mouth hesitantly. “Well, I-”

She overrode me effortlessly. “No. You chose to work hard. You chose to train. You chose to go up against me with a wooden sword, when you were a slip of a girl. You worked every day, without complaint or stop. You skipped gatherings and gave up dresses and flowers for leathers and battle. And you won. You defeated your… dragon. That wasn’t the magic, Arriane. It may have helped. But so did having a magic sword. So did learning everything you could. It does not lessen your accomplishment.”

I thanked the gods fervently that I was all cried out, because the pride in her voice at the end made me want to clutch her and bubble my thanks. But I gave her a hug, and if my “Thanks,” was a little suspiciously wet sounding… well, I think I deserved it. Then I sighed and buried my face in her lap. “Gods, I feel so stupid. It was just like… it seemed like everything was from the magic. It made it all seem so pointless. And like an idiot I just stopped trying. I’m sorry.”

Sal hugged me back. “I was more upset with you than I should have been. These past few weeks… it felt like you were deliberately throwing it away.” I started to speak, but she pressed one hand lightly to my lips. “I forget, sometimes, that you are human. How young you are. What I said…” she trailed off, and I realized with a start that she was trembling. “It was inexcusable.”

I rolled out of her lap and looked at her. “Sal, please. It’s fine, I need it.”

She shook her head violently. “No. You are making excuses for my actions. I have told you enough times - excuses are meaningless. Offer explanations, but take responsibility. You will allow me to do the same now.” I nodded carefully.

She closed her eyes, then opened them and looked at me, her look bright and sharp. “I knew what you were doing. But I treated you as an… adult. And despite everything, Arriane, in many ways you are still a child. You are still growing, and learning, and you must not take what I said to heart.” She took my hands and squeezed them. “You are not weak. Faltering is not weakness - it is experience. You will recover and grow strong again. You may be slow today. But you will be faster tomorrow.”

She leaned forward, searching my eyes, pleading. “Please, promise me Arriane, that you will not let my ill chosen words define you. That you will work, and grow, and become what I know you can be.”

If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

I thought. And then I nodded. Could I work hard? Yes. I’d slacked off. Now I’d had the sense beaten back into me. It wouldn’t be a fun few weeks, or a month, or whatever it would take to recover my conditioning. But I would do it. I looked her in the eye. “Yes.” And then because it seemed appropriate, and since she was looking so unhappy, I added, “I promise.”

Her look of relief was bright and shining, and I grunted as she hugged me hard. And now it was her turn to mumble into me. “Thank you.”

The scene still felt tense and fragile. I wasn’t quite sure how to end it, so I went with a joke. “You know, if you keep this up you’re going to ruin my image of you as a strict disciplinarian with no sense of humor.”

She stepped back, out of my arms, and the expression on her face made me freeze up. Too late it occurred to me that - just perhaps - taunting a woman who had just demonstrated her ability to beat me up at will was not my most shining moment. Then I saw the glint in her eye, and I relaxed slightly.

She tapped her chin, looking thoughtful. “You know, you are correct. It strikes me that I have not been seeking your feedback on my latest work.” She turned and started walking toward the wagon.

Eyes wide, I started after her, reaching out to grab her shoulder. She dodged me effortlessly. “Uh, Sal, no, that’s not necessary-”

“Nonsense.” She jumped into the wagon in a smooth motion, picking up her papers and then sitting down cross legged. She indicated a nearby rock, and I gave a sigh of defeat and plopped down on top if it. “Since your body has been exercised enough today, we will continue with your mind.” She flicked a piece of paper and one of her pens over to me, and I picked them up reluctantly. “After each verse, please write down your thoughts and the emotions it evokes.” She cleared her throat.

The princess went to save her prince

she sought out a mighty witch,

I winced, seeing where this was going.

on the way she stopped for a bath

so she would smell less like she rolled around in a ditch

She smiled sweetly at me with the last word. I couldn’t help it. I broke out laughing, that full-throated from-the-gut sound when you just can’t help yourself. Sal frowned at me and crossed her arms imperiously, which just made me laugh harder. She ordered me sternly to stop. But I could see the edges of her mouth curling upward, and a knot I hadn’t known was there eased in my heart. We were going to be all right.

* * *

For the next week we travelled short days, stopping mid afternoon to break camp. I didn’t realize how messed up I’d been until I felt the simple joy of wilderness work again, without the crushing weight of magic over me. It was a pure pleasure to take off alone and not worry about where things came from, or how I’d learned them. I hunted on the go, bringing in small game with the light bow we carried. Mostly we had stew, because it was simple and easy to make a lot of. And I needed the energy, because during the evenings we sparred.

Sal taught me a series of exercises when I was younger, and when I’m not stuck in my own head I usually run through them at least once a day. But nothing beats actual fighting. Exercise always leaves gaps somewhere, places that are missed or not worked as hard. Full-contact, no-holds-barred sparring hurts, but it’s worth it.

True to her word, Sal didn’t hold back. And I flourished. It seemed like my body would respond immediately, bouncing back after every setback, growing stronger and faster before my eyes. I would go to bed sore and aching… and I’d wake up the same way. But after walking and hunting I would be reinvigorated, and each time I could tell I had a little more of my edge back.

It took me three days to beat Sal once, and that was a fluke rather than any improvement in skill. Still, I grinned until she put me back on my ass. But it fed my hunger to improve and made me work even harder. By day six I beat her with actual skill, and by seven I was winning occasional bouts throughout. And on day ten I took her down three times in a row, the last with a rare - for me - grapple-to-pin move that ended with her on the ground and me ready to break her arm. She smiled at me with quiet pride when I helped her up, and I couldn’t seem to stop smiling.

I knew deep down that part of it was magic. No one normal would recover this quickly, heal bruises and small cuts overnight. But Sal had been right. The magic helped, but the difference in the past ten days was mostly hard work, and I resolved never to forget it again.

We sat and ate a second, late dinner afterwards, and I moaned in pleasure as the cool breeze hit me. The days kept getting hotter, and I’d been sweltering under my armor. Brigandine isn’t as heavy as full plate, but it’s still like always wearing heavy clothes, and this wasn’t the weather for it. Sal watched me with amusement. She, of course, was handling the heat just fine.

I ate quickly, not bothering to talk until I finished. I put down my third bowl and then Sal and I efficiently cleaned up, washing the battered cutlery in the nearby creek. I stretched afterwards and grimaced as I got a whiff of myself. Living in armor isn’t good for personal hygiene, but taking it off for too long isn’t good for personal living. So for the most part I suffered through it, and thanked the stars that Sal doesn’t experience scents the same way humans do. If she did, she’d have kicked me out long ago.

She caught my expression, and humor flickered in her eyes. “You know, your win today deserves a reward.” She tilted her head. “It happens that we are passing a hot spring tomorrow. I suppose we could stop for a short time.”

I regarded her with narrowed eyes. Then I grinned. “A reward, huh? And I suppose you won’t be using this hot spring either?”

She looked at me with artfully wide eyes. “Well, if you are already making use of it, it seems efficient for me to also take advantage.”

I didn’t tell her that her smirk ruined the effect.

* * *

The pools were an odd, craterish landscape, the smell harsh against my nostrils. Sal threaded her way through, leading a complaining Churchmouse while I lugged our belongings. The wagon itself we’d hidden in some underbrush near the road, and I understood why now - there was no way it would have made it even this far. And with night starting to fall, even with the moon I wasn’t sure how much further I was going to make it before I ended up falling in.

To my relief Sal stopped before two pools. The first, countering my expectations, seemed almost perfectly still. The second was more standard, a slight bubbling creating a rippling, almost hypnotic effect. She surveyed it and nodded, satisfied. Leaving Churchmouse, she dipped a finger into the first, making it ripple. Then into the second, with no discernable result. Then she stood and tied Churchmouse to a nearby rock.

She pointed to the first pool. “This would be appropriate for washing your gear. The other for a bath. I was not sure they would still be the same - the springs sometimes shift, and it has been a long time since I was here last. But the temperatures are appropriate.”

I put down our gear and sighed with relief. I started to remove Binder, then hesitated. “Is it safe?”

She inclined her head. “There is an old magic here. So long as you offer no violence, you are safe.” She tilted her head further into the pools. “I will leave you now - if my memory is correct, there is an area further in that’s more to my liking.”

My eyes bulged. “Wait!” I blurted it out, then felt stupid for panicking. But - “You can’t just - what if someone comes? Or takes our stuff?”

She smiled at me, a glittering slash in the growing dark. “Theft is violence. Lying is violence. Simply state what belongs to you.” She waved a hand dismissively. “I will not be that far. Relax and take comfort.” And with that she turned and disappeared around a corner.

I stared after her for a few minutes. Then I shook my head. If Sal said it… then I guessed I had to trust her. I walked over to the first pool to remove my gear to clean. But looking down I stopped and stared.

I have never been a big fan of mirrors, and you don’t get perfectly still pools all that often in the wild. So it had quite a while since I’d seen my reflection last. I reached up with one tentative hand and ran it along my jaw.

If not for the breasts, I would have sworn the figure looking up at me was a man. Possibly a handsome one, depending on your tastes, but still… with only the moonlight to go off fine details were erased, washing away what femininity I had. The subtle hints around my lips and eyes were gone, and even with the hair to my shoulders my square jaw carried it through. When it was clean it was an unexceptional brown, but right now it just extended my silhouette. My shoulders, broad and bulging with muscle, and my arms were purely masculine. My waist as well, thicker than would ever be fashionable.

My hips - something with the shape said woman, but the thickness from countless hours running and fighting made that a lie. And the overall effect… A form no one shall ever love. I shook away the memory and knelt, reaching one hand to wipe it away. But I paused, and turned resolutely away.

There’s no point in trying to change the things you can’t. Sal always said to change what you can, and the rest will follow. So I started stripping out of my gear - right now, what I could change was how clean I was. So I would do that, then relax and try to not think for a while. I’d have to trust the gods to sort the rest out.

* * *

I shaded my eyes and looked around. I wanted to drink again, but according to Sal it was another two hours to water, so I resisted. My mouth was parched and my lips cracking, and I resisted the urge to lick them. I’d finally given up and taken my armor off earlier, packing it into the wagon, and the lack was making the back of my neck itch. But Sal and Churchmouse seemed blissfully unconcerned, so I forced myself to not spin in circles and travel with my hand on my sword.

We’d transitioned from the plains to desert so subtly that I’d almost missed it entirely. It felt like one minute we were walking through scattered grass, and the next we were trudging through rocks and sand. We followed an old riverbed as it wound through the bluffs. We were walking into the wind, and the dust and grit kept making me sneeze.

We rounded a hill and Sal peered forward, then reached out and stopped Churchmouse. The mule had taken to the desert like he did everything else - with benign hatred and studied indifference - and he stopped willingly and started to murder the only nearby bush. I walked up next to them and looked at Sal curiously.

She pointed at the horizon. “There. Do you see?”

I put my hand back up and stared as hard as I could. The landscape in that direction seemed dark and rocky, and at first I couldn’t pick anything out. And then I saw it, a smudge rising up against everything else. I squinted. “That hill?”

She snorted. “It’s three days travel.” She clucked at Churchmouse and he started plodding away. I saw her shake her head and heard her mutter, “A hill. Truly.”

I shook my head and started after them.

* * *

I stared in awe as Twilight’s End rose up before us, a towering mountain of raw rock that defied the sky in blissful disregard to every notion I had about geography. Then I stumbled and forced my eyes back to the ground. The terrain had grown ever more jagged and rugged as we travelled, and it was hazardous in the extreme to take your eyes off the ground. But still, I couldn’t help peeking whenever I had a chance.

It thrust into the heavens, nearly vertical pillars of rock mashed together in some pattern I could not decipher. It looked unnatural, like a giant - a team of giants, over centuries - had carved the pattern for some arcane purpose. But if so, I was in awe of how long ago it must have been. Some of the outer pillars had fallen, and we’d passed a chunk earlier, seeming impossibly far away from Twilight’s End itself, and the weathering patterns told me it was ancient.

Over the past day the sand and stone had fled, leaving only the sharp rock and rough gravel and occasional pieces of the mountain. We’d abandoned the wagon again, this time in a tiny cave Sal had known about, and we’d had to leave a fair amount of our belongings behind as well. I’d thought not having my armor was bad before, but now every step that took me further away felt more and more like a mistake. But… change what you can change. I would have to replace protection with vigil, so I made myself constantly scan, watching for the out of place shadow or the movement of something trying to hide.

We’d been in this landscape for two days, and it still felt alien and remote. But I could finally feel myself starting to adjust, my instincts learning the sounds and shapes. My wilderness lore was useless, and at first Sal had kept me alive - finding water in the unlikeliest of places, leading me around traps of unstable rock and grit - but I could feel the rhythm of this land starting to sink into my bones. So when I could practically feel the water off to our left, I wasn’t surprised when Sal took a sharp turn and we entered a hidden grotto with a small, trickling pool in the corner.

I sighed with relief in the shade, and drank the last of my waterskin while Sal led Churchmouse over and let him drink his fill. While I waited for my turn I took a moment to look around. The signs were subtle, but I could make out evidence of long use by human - or possibly inhuman - hands. Areas worn smooth, a bit of charcoal in an area that would make a natural fire pit, smoke staining the rock… but it had been a long time. Years, at least.

I turned around and frowned at Sal, who was currently unpacking Churchmouse. I ducked out and checked the sun again, just in case it had suddenly sped up while we were in here, but no. Still midday. I walked back in and found Sal still busily setting up camp, although a twitch of her lip told me she’d been watching me.

I crossed my arms. “Ok, what gives?”

She nodded at the floor of the cave, then sat back gracefully against the wall. Her eyes flickered as she regarded me. “This is as far as I may go. From here, you must continue alone.”

I gaped at her in shock. “I- no, no way. You’re going to send me in alone? To see a witch?”

She nodded again, calm and sure. “Yes. You are human, and a party to her spell. You have the right. I… I would be considered a challenge. One she could not let stand untested.” She looked to the side, and I flushed, guilty at the thought that she wouldn’t be up to it.

So I was on my own. I stiffened my resolve, then hesitated. “How much further is it? And should I leave now?”

For a moment she regarded me silently, and I cursed enigmatic magical bullshit. Then she grinned toothily. “Did you truly think I would let you go with no other direction than that?” Her smile widened as I blushed and nodded. “Oh, child. There are times when the best way to learn is to experience failure of your own making.” Her smile faded. “Meeting a witch is… not one of those times. Here. We have time to pack and for you to eat. And perhaps a quick bath. Then I will tell you what I know.”