The morning came both too slowly and too soon, yawning across the forest. Essa arrived to find Alize alert and restless. She struggled to keep her food down. She asked Essa about obtaining Hrumi clothing for the fight, since she still wore her embroidered dress from Venin, but Essa shook her head. “Celillie specified for you to come as you are.”
The fight was meant to be between equals, Alize reflected, yet dressed in the clothes of the provinces, she already stood at a disadvantage.
Her heart drummed as Essa led her to the meadow arena. The air blew brisk, bearing the dry cold of the steppes. The entire clan assembled around the meadow perimeter and the sisters craned their necks to stare as Alize entered. Her skirt hem dragged behind her through the mangled grass and dry dirt.
Celillie waited at the ceremonial table wearing her golden headdress. Tradition mandated that before any battle for the gods’ favor, the two combatants break bread together. The action signified goodwill and reinforced the clan unity, even at the precipice of death.
“I should have refused to mark this tradition with you,” Celillie taunted as Alize took her seat at the table, “everything about you speaks to your alienation and your betrayal of my people. But,” Celillie sighed, “this will all be resolved soon enough, so what does it matter? I would begrudge you the disrespect to our traditions.”
Alize could not keep the sarcasm from her responding smile. Clumsy with her hands still bound, she accepted a piece of bread. It sat incredibly dry on her tongue and she reached for the steaming tea beside it. But as she brought the cup to her lips, the trees around her rebelled. Their objections in Alize’s ear were so loud she winced.
Celillie regarded her with disinterest. “Did Hesna ever tell you the story of Ura, the renounced Hrumi?”
Alize’s eyes blazed. Since Hesna’s death, Celillie had never once spoken her name again. To speak it now felt somehow a violation. To Alize, it was a reminder that Celillie could become the keeper of Hesna’s memory.
Celillie did not wait for her answer. “A Sargon entrapped Ura, plied with her vanity until she believed herself infatuated, in love. To win the Sargon’s esteem in return, she vowed to help him defeat the Hrumi. Such is the enslavement of love. Of course the clan discovered her plans and renounced her before any damage was done.”
Alize heard too many accusations: helping a Sargon commit evil, surrendering Hrumi lives, and then the most sacrilege of all, doing it all for a man’s esteem. Even if Alize came dressed as a willow, these were not her crimes. “I fail to see the relevance,” she said flatly.
Celillie smiled before continuing. “Years later, clan scouts discovered Ura in the forest. They should have killed her where she stood, as is required after a renunciation. They knew her guilt. But they saw in her too a former sister, teacher, confidant. So they spared her.”
Alize barely heard Celillie. The trees had stopped her from drinking from Celillie’s proffered cup. Alize needed to figure out why.
“Despite the Hrumi generosity,” Celillie chuckled, “Ura betrayed them. The entire scouting party was slaughtered by nightfall – every single person who had showed her mercy died that day on Sargon swords or succumbed to their soultrussing.”
“Then who lived to tell the tale?” Alize retorted. These stories all began to sound the same. Alize wondered how she had never noticed before.
Celillie disregarded her. “So much pain, all because the scouts wished to spare Ura. You see, the Hrumi are merciful. Have you so quickly forgotten?”
Alize wanted to wipe that false benevolence from Celillie’s face. “But your story teaches that we must never show mercy.”
The smugness faltered. “That we cannot afford to.”
Alize dug in. “We cannot afford the very virtues we frame ourselves by?”
Celillie sat back. “I’m afraid you have misunderstood.” Her narrowed eyes never left Alize even as she nodded to the cup between them. Her fingers rested on the table, rolling a pebble in the same little circle. Around and around and around. “Drink up, sister.”
Once more Alize lifted the tea mug and again the trees reacted in fervent warning. At a loss, she glanced into the cup, sniffing it. It smelled of chamomile and ginger, nothing sinister. What did you expect? After all, she had watched Celillie pour her own tea from the same pot. But still the trees wailed.
Celillie sipped leisurely and raised her eyebrows. “Do you not trust us, traitor?”
Alize swallowed. “I would never insinuate that.”
Still Celillie scrutinized her and Alize despaired. There were herbs that could kill a woman. But even as the thought crossed her mind, she rejected it. Celillie had already challenged her to a fight before the gods. No Hrumi could possibly corrupt such a sacred ritual. I must be misunderstanding the trees, Alize thought.
Besides, a Hrumi with such suspicions poorly honored her heritage.
Alize raised the cup. She smiled at Celillie as she drank the tea down. Celillie smiled too and the wrinkles in her forehead smoothed.
Yet as Celillie recited the rules to the arena, Alize felt her fingertips start to tingle with numbness. Alize shook herself of that suspicion. It was not possible. She needed to focus on the task at hand.
“Sisters!” Celillie called out from behind her, her voice shrill, painful. “We have a traitor in our midst! We know the punishment-”
“I am not a traitor!” Alize objected, surprising even herself. “I come to vindicate myself and to warn you of an approaching danger!”
“All the dangers to my sisters originate with you, great betrayer!” Celillie quipped, her tone as steady as her gaze. “You have brought evil into our fold, and you now attempt to unravel the unity that is our only assurance of survival!”
Celillie’s vocabulary was almost as cruel as her accusation. Alize needed to set a tone of absolute innocence that might appeal to her sisters’ compassion. And perhaps even their sense of reason.
“On what grounds do you accuse me?”
“You brought the Kogaloks upon us, against their customs! They killed our sisters!”
“Your misjudgment endangers us all. The Kogaloks traced the echo magic that you possess, clan leader! They still come now, hounding the clan for its echoes. They will kill you, just as they have killed-!”
“These are lies my sisters!” Celillie screamed, “She has been working with the governments to defeat the Hrumi!”
“Why did you renounce me?!” Alize tried to yell over her. But every time Alize spoke, Celillie interrupted her. This was not a trial, it was a staged play, and Alize had no lines.
“For our security!” Celillie courted the crowd, spanning her arms, her face hard, fearful. The sun glittered in her headdress. “This woman has betrayed the only trust given to Hrumi - to refuse to aid the governments in their pursuit of our extinction. And look what she has become! A true willow, bent and doleful! She has desecrated the laws of the life that we treasure above all else! Her very being is an anathema, her existence our greatest shame!”
Celillie continued but Alize’s eyes focused on two Hrumi entering the arena. They directed a large figure between them, and Alize did not have to look twice to recognize him. Kell seemed to be limping. Alize’s heart jumped into her throat as she struggled to quell the panic building inside her. There had to be a way to win Celillie’s game.
“This man,” Celillie gestured to Kell, “has been identified as a Sargon who oversees the mutilation of our sisters in the name of the prince’s ‘justice’.” Celillie spit the word in mockery. “And our former sister has been associating with him freely! He asked about her by name when we captured him!”
Under Celillie’s direction, his holders pulled Kell forward. The sounds all around Alize were too loud, the crowd screaming, mirroring back Celillie’s animosity, and the trees, helpless, dismayed. Celillie faced the clan and raised her arms in incitement, letting their anger surge like a tempest. She removed her headdress and placed it on the table before facing Kell. At the prompting of his handlers, Kell feel to a knell before her.
He looked to Alize but she could not meet his gaze.
“Because we believe in civility," Celillie spoke in strident pitch, "last night this man was granted three gifts: a rope, and dagger, and glass of poison. If only our captive sisters were so lucky!”
Around the arena the crowd screamed with the memory of their fallen sisters. Only Alize pictured Kell in the tent, alone in the darkness, pondering those choices. What courage did he carry within himself that stayed his hand?
“But the coward chose none of them!” Celillie screamed. “So today, by the gods, we will take our justice for his sins and for the sins of this exile!” She punched Kell hard in the stomach and he doubled over.
Alize clenched her fists.
“You distract them!” she roared over the crowd’s bellowing. “Your quarrel is first with me!” Celillie turned back to Alize. “I demand my trial by combat!”
“Your time will come traitor!”
“I will not wait!” For fear had risen in Alize like bile because she was losing feeling in her right hand. It was not her imagination. There was poison in her system. If Alize intended to win, the fight would have to be fast. “You will have to defeat me before you earn the god’s favor to punish him!”
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“You would fight your clan leader to defend a Sargon?!” Celillie screamed. “You are no sister to us!”
“Justice applied unequally is not justice! I fight to defend Hrumi principles!”
The snarls of the crowd faltered.
Alize took the opportunity to shout her truth. “I broke off so many weeks ago only to protect my clan, and when I tried to return, you renounced me. Why?!” She needed the crowd to pass their own judgments instead of letting Celillie think for them. “I strive only to be worthy of my sisters and the legacy we bear. And I trusted you to protect me from the dangers that I face because of our identity!”
In the silence Celillie began to say something but Alize quickly interrupted her. She had learned that lesson well. “I needed help, desperately,” Alize stressed her words, “and strangers like that man showed me more kindness than you Celillie, who raised me in your image and turned against me without reason. It is you who has disgraced our legacy!”
Celillie reached for her dagger but as she lunged towards Alize, Essa came between them to block her, sending Celillie’s dagger flying.
“You cannot attack her with her hands still bound.” Essa murmured.
“Fine,” Celillie hissed, “release her and give her a dagger.”
Alize gritted her teeth as Celillie spoke, almost oblivious to Essa cutting her bonds and presenting her dagger. She tightened her right hand around it. The strength of her soul seeped in from the runes engraved on the hilt, but it did nothing to cure the numbness. The most likely culprit was myrtle hip – an odorless, tasteless toxin that lasted for years when dried. When ingested, its affects were almost immediate – blurred vision and reduced motor skills, culminating in unconsciousness, depending on the dosage. Alize had to fight soon, or she would not fight at all.
And what of the implications?
Celillie had poisoned Alize. She had cheated in a fight before their gods. As Alize flexed her fingers, she let her anger take hold.
But not without controlling it.
“We start now!” Celillie took the first lunge towards Alize, slashing her right arm. Alize gave silent thanks that Hesna had trained her to fight with either hand, and switched her dagger to her left grip. Her left hand too was rapidly losing feeling. She managed to counter Celillie’s second and third strike, taking the time to strike herself, jabbing Celillie in her hand.
The leader swept her dagger to the right. Alize dodged the blow and Celillie jerked to send her off balance. Panting, Alize stumbled to the ground.
Celillie launched herself on top of Alize, her dagger aiming towards her chest. Alize twisted to block the strike and staggered to her feet once more. Her vision was not yet blurry and Celillie was moving slowly too, not with the laggard movements of poison, but laziness. She believed this fight already won. She believed herself worthy of the gods’ favor.
The fury sped Alize’s movements. Against all odds, it was Celillie that fumbled, it was Celillie who could not block the strikes. She had planned to torture Kell first, to wait until Alize was suffering the full force of the poison. But Alize still had strength within her. Indeed, she had a well of strength she had gathered her whole life for a moment just like this.
Celillie hit the ground with Alize’s dagger at her throat.
Alize waited to hear the crowd’s reaction, but her victory was met with resounding stillness. The Western Hrumi Clan leader, defeated. The shock and unease rendered even the trees silent.
Celillie’s gaze locked on Alize, her breathing belabored and her eyes wide with fear.
Alize pressed the blade against Celillie’s windpipe, but her hand trembled. Killing Celillie now would free Alize, but that alone was not enough. Not anymore. “Essa!” Alize called. “Would you agree that I won?”
Essa choked on her words while Celillie choked on her breath, “Not until someone is killed-”
“This victory wasn’t for me.” Alize’s tongue felt heavy and her words emerged slightly slurred. The poison was spreading. Three years earlier, a Hrumi had plead to stop a fight before the gods, claiming she had been poisoned. Alize had not witnessed the fight, but the women who recounted it spoke with almost equal horror of the sister’s audacity in such a demand and Celillie’s contempt. The fight had continued. The sister had lost.
There would be no stopping the fight on such accusations. But Celillie was not the fighter she was once was. Alize still had some time left, if her eyes stayed focused, if her aim stayed true. Besides, her life was not the only one on the line. While she crouched over Celillie, a dagger’s flash away from death, she held more power than she had ever held in her life. Enough power to disagree with her sisters about something very important.
“I’ll fight Celillie again for my life, but this victory,” Alize heaved her chest and gestured towards Kell with her chin without breaking her gaze from Celillie, “is for him and his soul.”
Essa widened her eyes but nodded. “Our laws have no precedent for that, but I give you my word that I will take responsibility for his safety, whatever happens to you.”
“Very good.” Alize abruptly released Celillie. She stepped away to allow the distance to flood between them.
Celillie surged to her feet.
The voices of the crowd rose up in confusion until Essa stepped forward to address the arena. “The exile has forgone taking Celillie’s life in exchange for the Sargon’s freedom. Now they fight for the gods’ favor-”
Before Essa finished speaking Celillie raised her dagger and swept towards Alize. “You are not one of us!” Celillie screamed. “You dress as them, you defend them! How could you ever be Hrumi?!”
“I know what defines me!” Alize shouted.
Celillie struck with renewed energy. Despite all her effort’s Alize block’s were sloppy and the movements required more effort. Her arms felt so heavy, she struggled to lift them.
A smile spilled across Celillie’s face. “Keep your guard up,” Celillie chuckled as she raised her blade.
Deflecting the attack, Alize manuevered close to Celillie’s ear. “The clan is in grave danger.” Alize paused to block a clumsy jab to her face. “You must take action to protect our sisters from the Kogaloks.”
“And you would offer me a solution?” Celillie snapped. She strained in her breathing, and that gave Alize hope.
“Call off the fight and give me the clan’s echoes.” Alize fumbled a blow but still managed to dodge Celillie’s counter strke. “I can transport them to the Priestess because the Kogaloks can’t see me.”
Celillie pushed Alize hard.
Alize nearly toppled over. Her vision was becoming blurry much faster that her other symptoms had manifested.
“Over my dead body,” Celillie uttered. Then she addressed the crowd, “See how she slows, sisters! The gods have willed her defeat!”
Celillie lowered her voice again to speak to Alize alone, “Hesna and I already had this argument. You can’t be Hrumi and return to the Temple. I chose for you then, and you have defied me anyways. A true Hrumi has one loyalty.”
Alize balked in utter astonishment. “What other loyalties are there?!”
Celillie’s words resonated in Alize’s head like another physical assault. She breathed in to manage her fury. Hesna had known Alize’s connection to the Temple. She had fought Celillie over whether Alize deserved to know. And Celillie had soundly defeated her, Hesna, the best fighter.
In that instant, something shifted in Alize’s mind. All this time she had resented Celillie without wanting to. It had felt wrong, deceitful, to hold that resentment inside her. It was a crime against the Hrumi, against her own identity. But what if that guilt had been cultivated? What if that sinking feeling of shame was a tool that Celillie had used to keep her quiet and complacent?
Alize had spent years trying to please a woman who had revealed only more dissatisfaction, more degredation, because those were her methods for controlling people.
The new sickness she felt in her stomach was not a symptom of the poison. Celillie had defeated Hesna. Celillie had poisoned Alize. This was not coincidence. This was a pattern.
Alize blinked through her anger, and gripped her dagger with her good hand. Even if her vision was failing her, she could see enough. Enough to finish this. Adjusting her footwork, Alize renewed her assault and watched the disbelief register on Celillie’s face. “How long have you been poisoning your opponents, Celillie?!” Alize called, “These are the symptoms of myrtle hip, if I’m not mistaken.” Around her jeers rose up but Alize could not discern who they targeted.
“Did you poison Hesna too?!” Then Alize was screaming, “Have you been playing a god here all along?!”
Nine woman had died challenging Celillie, and, like Hesna, their dissent had been diligently censored from the rest of the Hrumi. What does it matter, if it’s the gods’ choice to silence them? Celillie had always retorted.
Alize had accepted it, even with Hesna. What fools we have been for pride. The clans had allowed Celillie this charade because it was easier than disagreeing with her, because there were not so many steps between dissent and a battle to the death. While Celillie had remained undefeated, this threat had haunted the Hrumi. It had kept the abused silent and isolated.
That marked the corruption of the Hrumi’s very mandate.
Celillie whipped her body towards Alize. Alize could not dodge the blow because her left leg would not move. Instead she threw her fist at Celillie’s forearm to deflect her force. Her wrist sang pain with the contact.
Celillie yelled in fury. The power of Alize’s words wrought their own damage. Celillie attacked her, each slash more wild than the last. Her face burned red, her eyes ferocious and frenzied, but she had not said a word to respond to Alize’s allegations. And Alize could hear now that the Hrumi spectators roiled with confusion, with questions. Questions Celillie, apparently, had no desire to face, for her mouth contorted into an enraged grimace and she turned her back on her sisters.
Essa appeared between them, attempting to stop the fight.
Celillie raised her dagger and slashed Essa across the face.
The crowd went into uproar as Essa stumbled. In that instant, Alize jerked back to Celillie and buried her dagger blade in the clan leader’s stomach.
Celillie faltered, twisting her horrified face to Alize. “You monster!”
Alize met her gaze in dumb astonishment. She released her dagger hilt, lodged deep and immovable in Celillie’s body. She could only glance between the hilt and Celillie’s face, somehow unable to comprehend what she had just done. This was not the ending she had wanted. She wanted to prove herself worthy of the clan, once and for all. And in truth there was only one person who could provide that validation.
Celillie collapsed to her knees. The hammering in Alize’s chest reverberated through her whole body. Celillie struggled to say more but she was gagging on her own blood. It leaked down her chin to dampen the powdery dirt. “Your ambition will destroy everything we have built,” Celillie rasped.
“I won’t.” Alize stammered. She knelt next to Celillie, catching her shoulders to hold her upright.
But still Celillie slumped to the earth, now scarlet and warm with her blood. In her pain, her death, her execution, she was the victim. It made her look innocent. And Alize was the one wearing a willow’s dress, covered in blood.
Alize was shaking. Thoughts ran through her head without any coherence. Only when she tasted salt on her lips did she realize she was weeping.
The Western Hrumi clan leader was dead. The world around Alize seemed unstable, flickering, and for an instant she hated herself with such profoundity that she reeled. If Celillie had been wrong to kill her fellow Hrumi, what did it mean, now, that she was dying by Alize’s dagger thrust?
Celillie’s headdress still sat on the table.
Now this was the story they would tell of her. It was not clear what legacy Celillie would leave. Memory could be impermanent, and accommodating.
Beyond Alize’s personal haze, other faces gathered around her. Voices raged everywhere, but Alize heard nothing but her hammering heart. Her fingers gripped Celillie’s hand though they were too numb to feel her pulse die. The echoes drifted from the Celillie’s body and Alize reached out to them, claiming them for her own despite Celillie’s intentions. It felt like an additional perfidy and Alize bowed her head under the weight of her regret.
Then one of the healers touched Alize’s chin to raise her head upwards. “Myrtle hip all right,” the woman said, “the paralysis won’t last past mid day, but her vision will get worse before it gets better. The only antidote is time.”
“Alize,” Sosje gripped her wrist gently, “what is this about the Kogalok’s coming?”
“Did Dierdin not warn Celillie about the attack?”
“We have heard nothing of it.”
“What?” Alize tried to rise to her feet but floundered until Sosje bent under her arm to support her. “Get everyone’s attention! The Kogaloks are coming for the Hrumi, as early as nightfall tomorrow. We must prepare!”
“Sisters!”
Sosje helped Alize to sit down and began directing the flurry around them. Amongst the sounds of blades being sharpened and the hammering of arrow heads, Sosje stayed by her side the whole time. “Come on Alize, let’s get you out of these absurd clothes and get some hellebore for your arm.”
“I need to talk to Kell first.”
“Who?”
“The Sargon.”
“Oh.” Sosje widened her eyes but quickly brought her face back to neutral. “Well, you’ll have to wait. Dierdin took him to a healer.” Sosje paused. “You were right about her, by the way. She wouldn’t let anyone touch him.”