Her ancestral lands were to the north and east, and if they went looking for her, that’s the direction they would go. She didn’t think it would happen, but it was best not to go home... not that much was waiting for her there, anyway.

“I think south and west towards the hill country is best. The place is considered pacified, but there’s no real love for the Empire there, and lots of empty land and dangers from the mountain to keep folk close to home and not investigating their neighbors. If we can find a small place to set up, that would be fine. If not, we keep moving?”

-That sounds fine. We are not in a race. Growing up takes time, and there is no huge hunt for me now.-

“Then let’s go that way, and see what’s there!” She felt more light-hearted than she had in months as she turned the gelding, and they set off through the night.

---

They only rode for a few hours, enough time to put some miles between them and the camp. They lucked onto a game trail which helped them along tremendously in the dark, then moved off it into a copse of trees to settle in until the dawn.

There was no need for a fire. Tiya moved Deuce from his papoose to her chest to feed, wrapped in a blanket. Contrary to most such situations, she didn’t need to keep him warm. Having him clasped to her chest, he radiated a calm living heat that fought off the night’s chill quite well.

“Deuce, can you tell me a story about Aethra?” she asked him.

-Aerthra, the wayward daughter of Eryl.- Completely unperturbed by the breastfeeding, his calm voice was strained and irritated. -There’s nothing wayward about the Wind Rider, of course. She is her own woman, and does not bow to her mother. But it was not always that way, of course...-

-----

Aethra flew about randomly, as she was wont to do whenever she tired of her mother ordering her about. Shoot this, use your spear here, call the wind, punish those disbelievers there...

Her mother’s continuous need to fight everything about her wore on her daughter, so Aethra rode the winds away to a place her mother’s storms were not, just to gain some time and peace.

Eryl would not notice her absence, embroiled as she was with another of her unending conflicts with Hurn the War God.

Into the forests, where the birds flew about unbothered by the wild winds and lighting and thunder, and the beasts came out to play and hunt and feed, instead of sheltering from the storm.

She came upon an old man fishing out in the woods, a simple pole in the water, bobbing for bait. He was attended by an old horse and an equally old hound, all of them placidly enjoying the quiet and serenity so little seen in her mother’s realm.

She noted he was dozing more than fishing, for the fish had already taken his bait and run off. He seemed more concerned with petting his dog’s ragged ears and enjoying the sun and peace.

She announced herself with a gentle breeze. “Old man,” she said in amusement, “you will catch no fish with no bait?”

He raised his floppy hat to look at the goddess floating above the ground. “That’s not the point of fishing, young lady,” he said gravely, and to her amazement, put his hat back down. His dog and horse barely flicked their eyes her way. “The point is this.” He waved his hand to encompass the tranquil lake, the flowers on the water lilies, the birds in the trees, the squirrels chattering, and the life around. “You should try it, just sitting down and appreciating what is there, instead of flitting to the next thing.”

He was only an old man, and so Aethra was unafraid. She sat down and stilled her winds, and looked around the lake. She drank in the rare sunlight of Aru, seen only after her mother’s storms passed by. The clouds were very white, the sky very blue, unlike the greys and lightning flashing of the storm. There was color to be seen and had, some alive and moving, some just bathing quietly in the sunlight instead of drowning in the rain.

It was very good, and very different. The delighted goddess watched life go on about her, living and moving without needing a storm or war to do anything, all at a different pace, without the ominous weather looming over all.

The old man broke his fast with simple bread and cheese, and wine from his skin, sharing with her. Used to the fare of an empress’ table, it was again something new to her.

“Do all mortals eat so simply?” she asked the old man.

“Well, no. But a great many, yes. These are staple foods, young lady, upon which many survive. If they wish better food, and more plenty, mortals have to work together to gather and make them.”

“Mother has cooks to do such things!” Aethra replied brightly.

“Aye, but the cooks must have the food first to work their wonders. Have you ever baked bread?”

“I have been taught to fight and shoot and ride and control the winds!” Aethra stated proudly.

The old man just nodded. “Aye, all things for a warrior. But are you aware of all the things that must be done by others to help that warrior?”

Aethra tilted her head and thought on that. “Smiths make weapons and armor. Bowyers craft my arrows!”

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“And where do the smiths get their metal? The bowyers their wood and feathers? Where does the food for your mother’s cooks come from? Do all your soldiers eat at your table? If not, what do they eat?”

Aethra wasn’t sure her mother’s soldiers ate at all, being proud Amazons and warrior women’s souls. But then again, she didn’t really need to eat either, did she? So, what did they eat?

“Sometimes, mortals eat fish, too.” And the old man reached over, jiggled his stick, and there was a swirl as a fish was attracted to the motion and bit. He lifted it clear of the water, kicking and splashed, and Aethra clapped in delight.

She had the first roast fish cooked over a simple fire she’d ever had, and was delighted. She wanted to be shown more of what went on outside a warrior’s life, and the old man obliged.

He noted that he was a decent hunter, but his dog was much better, and so they both followed the hound as it tracked a deer, and her arrow brought it down. He showed her how to hunt and skin it slowly and surely, and what parts of the deer had value, and what parts were returned to the forest, where things would make use of them.

He showed her how bone and horns could be carved into beautiful things, or weapons when one had none, or clothing and ornaments for attire. He showed her how to treat meat for immediate eating, and to preserve it for longer terms, and the herbs and spices and salt needed to do that job.

Mortals needed shelter, and the tools to make that shelter, and the skills to put all those together properly was something learned and passed on from their elders to the younger, a great and revolving cycle where the young would inherit old knowledge, sometimes improve on it, and then pass things down to their children, who might improve it again, and so mortals advanced from wood to stone to steel.

Hunters used the knife, the spear, the axe, and the bow. All other weapons descended from them. She was familiar with them all, but not the way he used them, each tool for a task, combat and otherwise, turning them from simple killing things to implements that could help make other things.

Aethra had never considered any of that, and was much impressed by the courage and determination involved in this teaching to the younger generation. She told the old man that she had never been taught any of these things.

“Well, who determined your teachers? You were taught what they wished you to learn. If that is all you know, then why did they want you to learn only to be a soldier?”

“Mother is an Empress. She only wants more soldiers to expand her domain,” Aethra said sourly.

“A soldier is only one of the jobs of a warrior, and the least important, in the great scheme of things, and the most important, at the end of things. As an Empress, your mother would want obedience and fortitude.

“The jobs of a warrior are to be a champion to face a single threat when needed; a Master who passes on their skills and knows the value of the mind; a hunter who can provide for his people; a leader who can command both to prepare for a fight and during the fight itself; the soldier who must fight when great numbers do battle in a Cause that they have chosen freely; and the archer and scout who pursue alternate methods of fighting and information on the enemy.

“These six tasks are what make a warrior great.”

“So, I am merely a soldier?” Aethra sniffed. “I would excel at all these things!” she said seriously.

“Are you a soldier? Did you choose your Cause freely?” the old man asked her calmly.

Aethra held back her reply. Indeed, had she ever been given a choice of who to fight, and why? Certainly her battle-sisters believed in her Queen Mother and followed her orders zealously... but she was her Mother’s daughter, not her follower.

“I... do not think so?” she said sadly. “I did not know there were Causes, other than those of my Mother’s enemies!”

“Well, that sounds like all Causes are your mother’s enemies, which seems mighty strange on the face of it.” Aethra thought about that reply, and agreed it did sound strange. “Would a Cause of finding love and raising a fine family be worthy for a mortal?” he asked her, and she agreed it would be. “What of hunting down a great threat to one’s friends and neighbors, since you had the skill to do so?” She agreed that it would also be worthy. “Of fighting for a world where one did not have to fight wars, but could sit down and just fish?”

Aethra was delighted by the thought that fighting might have an end! “That would be wonderful!” she agreed.

“So, to be a soldier is to follow orders in service to your freely chosen Cause, and endure where others fall. It sounds to me like you need a Cause. As that is something that echoes with your heart, you will have to search to find it.”

“I will do so! I will find my Cause!” the young goddess agreed.

“I can show you something of the Master, and how to pass on what you have learned to others. You have seen your Mother, so you know something of the duties of the Leader. I think you may need to learn more of the ways of unconventional fighting, and while I am not yet weak, I am not the best example of a champion for you. I have a friend who is good at such things. Perhaps you would like to ride with him, and learn from him? He has tremendous wanderlust and never sits still, going all over and seeing many things.”

Aethra found herself nodding eagerly. She wished to see more of the world, to go wherever the winds blew.

“Then you must find a proper mount. While a hunter needs be skilled on foot, a proper champion must be able to fight ahorse and off it.”

“I was never given a mount, because I could fly,” Aethra said innocently. “Where should I seek one out?”

The old man thought about it a moment. “There’s an old horse living up atop that mountain over there. Now, he’s too old to ride, but maybe he has a daughter fit for you. Why don’t you go ask him?”

Aethra agreed and ran off to the mountain. She was the daughter of the Storm Queen. What old horse would dare turn down her request?

It took her no time at all to reach the mountain and look about for the old horse.

What she found instead was a kingly ki-rin, a bearded golden steed with a great golden horn, scaled like a dragon, with wings of ephemeral flame and clouds trailing from his hooves. She could sense his age, and his power, and immediately sought to impress him.

“I am Aethra, daughter of the Storm Queen, who rules all the skies!” she called out haughtily. “I seek a mount to carry me on my quest!”

The great golden steed turned to her, and suddenly the sky cleared away, all the clouds gone, clear to the horizon. The sun blazed down and seemed to look upon her.

“Rules all the skies?” the old steed answered the goddess, his tail swishing in amusement. “A glance from Aru’s eye, and her storms evaporate. You think she commands a sky where Aru reigns?” the ki-rin asked her.

Aethra stared up at the golden orb that was the eye of Aru. Her Mother had spoken little of the sun god, and when She did, it was in ire and frustration, not respect. “No, elder horse, I do not think so,” she admitted carefully.

An instant later, darkness swept across the sky, and the stars were out in a greater shining glory than Aethra had ever beheld. Sylune’s moon crossed the sky, winking silver stars following her in her court, and the heavens danced and spun about her.

“Think you Eryl dares to touch the skies where the Queen of Stars passes?” the ki-rin went on calmly, looking about tellingly. “I see no storms daring to disturb the Silver Queen here.”