Chapter 11 - Mother

Moonlight painted the vibrant surface of the grove. Glowing flowers appeared as sparkling gemstones. Blades of grass shone like daggers poking out of the ground. Shallow streams wrapped around the smooth surface of stones and pebbles as if they were a flowing current of molten silver. Most beautiful of all was the humming that came from the far end wherein stood Lorian, the first tree. The voice of the Forest Deity herself, echoed by her many created daughters —naiads sitting near streams and dryads hanging from tall trees, all singing along with their creator. Some played. Some laughed. A blissful scene. And nostalgic too.

Sar'tara was brought to near tears at the familiar sight. It had been over fifteen years since she'd last been here. For her elder sibling, nineteen long years had passed. Kiali already had a silver line running from her eye to her chin. All shadows of doubt within Sar'tara's mind retreated to a dark corner to hide from the grove's radiance, from the memories of a plentiful childhood, and that of a loving Mother. She couldn't help herself. She ran forward towards Ny'Danis.

Kiali followed right alongside her. The sounds of their bare feet pattering against small blades of grass disrupted the grove's subtle melody. Ny'Danis continued to hum. The nymphs did not. Their heads turned towards the sound of soft steps. Their joyous expressions changed into surprise. Their surprise soon changed into euphoria.

"It's Sar'tara!" some shouted.

"It's Kiali!" others proclaimed.

"It's Sar'tara and Kiali," said every nymph soon after.

Nymphs surrounded the pair of huntresses, halting their sprints. For once, Sar'tara did not feel disturbed by their presence. The memories of playing games with them as a child hit her like a tidal wave. She wanted to play again. Wanted to be immersed in the joy that she'd forgotten. Dozens of pairs of large black eyes stared up at her and Kiali. Some made idle comments whilst others tried asking questions.

"Tall…"

"Kiali is taller than Sar'tara. Very tall."

"Lots of bones. Can I have them?"

"Can I have the bones? I can trade them for some stones!"

"Smooth skin."

"Smooth hair."

"Sar'tara is pretty."

"Much prettier than before!"

"I like Kiali more!"

"Me too!"

"Me three!"

Sar'tara smiled at the nymphs but made no attempt to pause or answer questions. Her fingers grazed the cheeks of her created sisters and occasionally brushed strands of ropey hair away from their faces. Her eyes drifted back towards the great tree. Towards her Mother.

Lorian's long reaching branches and many shaped leaves enshrouded half the grove in spots of shadow while the other half freely bathed in moon and starlight. Ny'Danis rested on her throne, a suckling babe in her arms. Children lay at her feet, sleeping. Her blood daughters. She tilted her head and looked down at Sar'tara and Kiali. The smile that was already upon her lips grew softer. Ny'Danis put the babe down in a cradle. She stepped off of her seat and jumped into the air. The lush silver hair that had rested in her lap now flowed freely, hovering behind her as if it were the tail of a blitzing star.

Dark wings sprouted from Ny'Danis' back. Wings akin to those of butterflies. Their black outlines were a sharp contrast to the many glowing colors within her wings just as a light shining through a mosaic. She floated in the air briefly, her wings beating faster than the eye could see, sending a rainbow of afterglow lights in many directions. Ny'Danis descended from Lorian at a frightening speed. Her green and brown dress of silk pressed against her fair and slender legs before rising into the air just above her ankles as she halted her collision with the ground. Her wings disappeared as she walked towards her returning daughters, the length of her dress now dragging along behind her.

Sar'tara realized that she'd been holding in a breath. Her lips parted and her eyes watered. Tears broke free just as she broke out from the encirclement of nymphs and ran towards her Mother. Ny'Danis embraced her as she held her Mother tight, her head resting against Ny'Danis' chest. She placed a kiss on Sar'tara's head. A moment later, Kiali collided into them, wrapping her arms around Sar'tara and Ny'Danis.

Sar'tara sniffled as she raised her head and met her Mother's multi-chromatic eyes. Ny'Danis stood more than a full head taller than her daughters. Not even the tallest of the Kreiva could match her Mother in height.

"Welcome back," Ny'Danis said. The sound of hearing her speak caused Sar'tara to press herself closer to her Mother. A soft hand ran along the length of her single braid. She was very much aware that her tears were dampening her Mother's dress. Ny'Danis did not utter a single word of complaint. Nymphs tugged at Sar'tara's skirt, nagging and begging to come play. The Forest deity raised a finger to her lips and they backed way.

Sar'tara finally let go of, wiping her face with the back of her hands. Kiali did the same. "Shall we go up?" Ny'Danis asked, maintaining her smile.

Blushing, Sar'tara nodded, unable to rid herself of a wide, childish grin. How did I ever doubt her? How? Ny'Danis bent low and picked up Kiali first. The grown woman squealed as her Mother held her in both arms and carried her up to the branches of Lorian as if she were a knight stealing a princess. She came back down and carried Sar'tara the same way. Sar'tara covered her face to hide her embarrassment, heart beating rapidly as her legs were swept from beneath her and cool wind clashed against the lingering moisture spread across the backs of her hands.

Kiali was on her knees, inspecting her youngest siblings as they lay asleep on a patch of grass before Ny'Danis' throne. "They're so cute," she whispered. She shuffled over to the cradle where the babe lay just as Ny'Danis landed. Sar'tara ran over to the cradle as well to see the newborn. The babe's eyes were wide open.

"Can I hold her?" Sar'tara asked.

Ny'Danis nodded. Sar'tara picked up her baby sister. The babe began crying almost instantly. Sar'tara wasn't shocked in the least. Instead she began rocking the babe back and forth, singing, just as she'd seen her Mother do in the past.

Have no tears my lovely sister

Lest you trip, your pretty hands blister

Weeping will make flowers wilt

Weep not, smile bright and come hither

"What's her name?" Kiali asked.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"Aina," Ny'Danis said. "I gave birth to her a few days past. The Selharr have made slight changes to my lullaby I see."

"It was Sister Freya's song," Sar'tara answered, smiling, hoping. Hoping that her Mother was just as grieved by the loss of her beloved daughter as she was with the loss of a sister. Memories of the war creeped back into her mind, a sour taint spreading over the joyous ones.

"Ah, Freya. Yes. She was the kindest girl I gave birth to…" the Forest Deity said, as if recalling an ancient memory. Her expression didn't change. Her smile didn't falter. Her emotions could not be read.

Sar'tara's arm twitched. She needed a stronger reaction. Something more to tell her that all her doubts were a lie. The corrupting rends in her mind grew stronger. She glanced back at the babe, wanting to absorb its innocence. Aina had settled down. Sar'tara looked into the small dark eyes. "You will be a strong and fearless Guardian one day," she whispered. "You will reach that stage without having to stain your hands with the blood of your kin." Sar'tara glanced back at Ny'Danis. Still no reaction save for a slight twitch of her eye. A slight twitch… What does that mean, Ma?

"Allow your sisters to sleep," Ny'Danis said. "Dusk has come and gone. They need ample rest if they are to grow big and strong."

Sar'tara nodded. She placed the babe back in its cradle.

Ny'Danis stepped out onto a thick branch as wide as the trunks of trees within the forest. Her dress, extending beyond her gentle feet, made it seem as if she were gliding rather than stepping. The back of the dress merely covered an area of her shoulders and went down in a V shape before closing off just above her waist. Her skin, smooth and fair, was without blemish. Not a mark remained from where her wings had sprouted. She reached up into the leaves of Lorian and plucked out two large peaches, handing them to her daughters.

Sar'tara bit in. Sweet nectar entered her mouth. She hadn't tasted the fruit in years. But the honey remained only on her tongue. It did not enter her heart. She kept an eye on her Mother for some change in emotion. A sudden breakdown. An admittance to pain of losing so many daughters. Something to say that she was wrong. Or an argument strong enough to conquer all seeds of doubt. But why am I doubting a deity? My own Mother?

"You two have done well to earn the right to have returned here," Ny'Danis said, maintaining a level tone. "I am proud. You've endured many hardships and suffered many sorrows. You must have many questions for me. Ask away. Your Trials will begin when I stop walking."

"Why do you not prevent wars between your daughters?" Sar'tara blurted out with a mouth half full of peach. Juice rolled down her wrist, tickling her forearms. She'd been squeezing the fruit a little too hard with her fingers.

"Starting with the most difficult," Ny'Danis mused. She paused her walk. Looked up at the forest canopy. Then began walking again. "I love all my daughters the same. I also know what lies beyond the borders of our home, this forest. The deaths of my daughters pains me greatly," Ny'Danis said, placing a hand on her chest. "Sar'tara, if I mediate between conflicts, you will come to rely upon me, and not yourselves. It will weaken you. Partaking in the killing of your sisters is not necessary in obtaining my approval and Guardianship. It is just another test, as is hunting. What you've done, it is painful. But it proves your conviction and inner strength. Thus, I don't stop you. There are people outside that would do us harm. People that only the strongest of my daughters can face."

Sar'tara looked at her feet. Her eyebrows furrowed. "But being a Guardian isn't about strength only… Wisdom and patience are a part of it as well. Conflicts resolved through conversation are proof of those traits."

"Yes. It certainly is. Naturally, all my daughters are lacking in some traits of a true Guardian," Ny'Danis said. Her voice cracked. Sar'tara thought she heard her Mother swallow. "The Trials you are about to undertake will test everything. My Kreivan daughters can be prideful and arrogant. But they're strong of both will and body. The Selharr and Mäkhain don't have arrogance enough to ignore wisdom, but they may often find themselves lacking elsewhere. Questioning what you've done is proof of kindness. Dwelling on it too long shows a lack of conviction."

Sar'tara bit too far into her peach. She flinched as her teeth struck the pit inside a little too hard. It made sense. Too much sense. So much so, that it didn't. Why did there need to be a justification for siblings killing each other. Why did that justification come from a Mother that had breastfed and raised each and every girl? Why couldn't it just be wrong to kill?

"What of Sister Freya or Mina? What of the girls that had no wish to fight? That had no experience in it?" Kiali asked. She had already finished her peach. Her right fist was tightly enclosed around the pit.

"Are you two hurt?"

"Yes," the huntresses replied in unison.

"Do you wish for all your sisters to suffer a similar fate as that of Freya or Mina?"

"Never!" Sar'tara declared.

"No!" Kiali said as well.

Ny'Danis let out a heavy exhale. "That is the pain that I must deal with. I must live on knowing that some of my daughters have died when they should not have. All so that the others will not die or worse. For there are some fates worse than death. Stronger Guardians is what allows this forest to remain protected."

"That… But… Why can't you just teach us?" Sar'tara said. "Allow us to live together and teach us the traits of a Guardian! Some may still perish during the Trials, but allowing killing…" Sar'tara knew the answer. Because it would make the daughters too weak to grow up without competition and independent learning. But that's so convenient an excuse… "So many of your daughters have perished, Ma. So many that could have become Guardians. Does that not leave our home undefended?"

Ny'Danis paused. She raised her hands to her face as if wiping away tears. She then turned and knelt before her daughters, still nearly equal to them in height. The length of branch they'd been walking upon had thinned significantly. "Child. I've repeated these same questions over and over in my own head. Those that perished simply did not have the aptitude to become Guardians. That is the simple truth. There's a reason why so few return from the Guardian Trials. They are the pinnacle. The final ordeal that I put my daughters through. One where I watch them either succeed or die. One where I ki-…"

Ny'Danis paused. She looked at her hands then back at Sar'tara. She blinked multiple times. Tears still gathered. "I care, Sar'tara," Ny'Danis said. "I do. I know how much it must hurt. I know you don't believe that my hands are tied. But they are." The Forest Deity stood up, wiping the corners of her eyes. "Anything else you wish to ask?" she said, trying to bring back her level voice, though it cracked.

Sar'tara lowered her head. She felt as if a boulder weight had settled in her chest. She felt guilty for bringing her beloved Mother to tears. But somewhere inside, the answer still didn't satisfy. The guilt of killing fellow siblings and the pain of losing ones she'd known for years still clawed at her conscience. "No," she whispered just as Kiali said the same.

Ny'Danis continued walking in silence, as if waiting for more questions. The branch thinned further, causing Sar'tara to place one foot before the other to continue forward. Her Mother still seemed as if she were gliding.

"This marks the end," Ny'Danis said. Wings sprouted from her back. She stepped off of the branch and carried her daughters to the base of Lorian one at a time. Nymphs gathered around as soon as Sar'tara and Kiali were on the ground again.

"Ma, are the naiads and dryads not your daughters as well?" Sar'tara asked. "Can they not become Guardians?"

A soft smile spread on Ny'Danis' lips. She cupped Sar'tara's cheek in a hand. "You had a question after all." She waved her hand, motioning for the nymphs to leave her daughters be. They pouted but dispersed, going back to singing or playing with each other. "I don't give birth to nymphs. You know that. I create them with my hands. They are sentient, yet soulless. I made them to keep my children company during their early years. Though, some with fond memories stray from the grove and seek you out within the forest after you leave. Anything else?"

Sar'tara shook her head.

"Then we will proceed with your Trials. There are four Trials you must pass," Ny'Danis explained. "They must be done consecutively with little rest in between. They will be conducted on an alter plane that I have created. Injuries you sustain within them will be real. But you will not retain them upon returning to this world. Time will pass as it does. Take too long and hunger and sleep will start affecting your bodies. The fruit of Lorian bears great boons. You are expected to have strength enough to last the full duration of the Trials. Failure means certain death. Successful completion of the Trials means that you are a vessel capable of wielding the powers of a Guardian. The very powers of nature that I possess. If you wish to turn back, you may do so now. You may retire yourself to your village and live therewith for the remainder of your lives… Or leave the forest and find company among humans outside. Are the two of you ready?"

Sar'tara nodded just as her older sister. Returning to the village would be to live a life of shame. And leaving the forest instead, as much as a small part of Sar'tara desired to see the world outside, would be to run away from that shame. And furthermore, she would have to live without ever seeing her beloved Mother again. No. I will succeed. If I fail, I will die. And Ma will cry…

Sar'tara didn't want that. She didn’t want her Mother to cry. Of course her Mother was despaired at the loss of her daughters. Ny'Danis must have hurt more than anyone else. Why did I doubt her to begin with? Sar'tara grit her teeth. To dwell too long would show a lack of conviction. Mother is right, she convinced herself. She hated it. But it was so. Had to be so.

Ny'Danis closed her eyes and outstretched her arms. Two white ovals appeared on either side of her. "Step through the gates," she commanded.

Sar'tara and Kiali took one last look at each other. They both dropped the peach pits in their hands before nodding and stepping through.