The Lenaris Cycle
Chapter 4: Clarity of Purpose
When I finally awoke, the first thing I felt was the metal which pulled me tight in five different directions. Shackles at my neck, wrists, and ankles kept me from being able to struggle all that much at all. The curved strip of metal under my neck felt as if it was jabbing into my chin, and there was naught that I could do to stop it without inviting more pain. My ankles were pulled in such a way that the tops were being cut into, and my wrists were being cut into from below. No more of my energy was whisping out of me, but it was a surety that I was trapped and there was no way for me to escape on my own. If I could have hung my head, I would have.
May the traditions of Selaria be damned, I thought as I hung in silence. I showed my neck to a traitor and for that I was to be slain. Loyalty to my goddess and belief that my own sister, my own queen would not lead me to my end was being rewarded with death. Tears fell from my eyes, and burned down my face. Very few fluids do Selarians and Human share in common. It would seem that Humans and Selarians have the same level, the same exact sort of emotion, only in sorrow and desperation.
I could not see a thing, for there was a thick strip of cloth tied around my eyes. All I knew for sure was that wherever I was, it was cold and somewhere near me water flowed. My only guess was that I was either in a holding cell on some fortress on or within the Isles, or I was in the hold of a ship.
Either way, my odds for escape were lower than I liked. I had infiltrated Human, Shay'din, and Elven territories in my day. I had carved through the glacial caves to find hiding enemies. I had almost lost my life many a time blocking a blow meant for an ally. None of that prepared me for this. Akela's light could not shine on me. Her blessings could not be summoned up with lips that were torn and still tasted of energy, that sharp flowery taste like metal caressed by fragrant roses. With no blood, I cannot bruise, but I am still just as fragile as any other mortal.
On some signal, or for no reason at all, I felt a gauntlet smash into my face again, one from either side, one after the other. After it passed, another smashed up m chin from below, and I could feel the bones crack ever so lightly. Following that, I felt long, sharp nails dig into both of my sides and rake down, more of that energy evaporating from me. Having to be so graceful and relying on mere motion and skill alone to protect oneself means that Warriors of Akela wear no armor and cover only what is necessary for decency and functionality's sake. My sides were bare, though now stained with that silver mist that crept up against the pull of the planet beneath us.
Another gauntleted blow flew into my gut and I heard myself cough hoarsely but I could barely feel myself do it. My senses were ablaze with pain. There is a difference between the lash and being killed one blow at a time. This felt like the later. Even if I was able to get to a healer of Akela before too long I would likely be left with scars.
I felt magic crackle over me, blasting through the blindfold and hitting my eyes, and try as I might to resist it my eyes were glued shut. Opening them would have torn them in half and my body would not allow it. The cloth was torn away and that was when I felt the very worst thing that could have been done to me begin. To a Selarian, eyes are the most beautiful part of anyone, male or female. Though all Selarians but a select few have the same silver eyes, each iris is in it's own way unique. Each eye shines in a slightly different way. Anything that marred the eyes marred the person's entire beauty.
Piercing my flesh just above my left eye, a blade began to slowly trace a thin crescent moon through my eyelid. It was just thick enough that I could feel the energy flow. This blade was no ordinary blade. Such blades as this were only used for one purpose, for as the blade moved the wound behind it sealed. It did not heal, it sealed, leaving behind what I knew would be a black scar.
I tried to scream but another shot of magic was fired and I felt my lips push together hard enough that I almost worried my jaw would break off. "No, no, no little warrior. We aren't done with you yet. Maybe when we are, we'll let you speak." The voice was not Adien's. The voice was far more familiar, feminine, and yet far more fiendish a voice than I had ever heard before. "We have to make you look pretty as we can for the ball in your honor. Or didn't you know? This is to be a very special occasion!"
Try as I might to scream, I could not even manage it through my sealed lips. The blade pressed above my other eye and slowly cut down. The two long thin crescents would be facing in towards my nose. This was the symbol of one who had either been captured by the remnants of Delonna's Knights of Shay'dar, and was once the symbol of Salcom. Delonna long before I was born had lead the Shay'din on a quest to form the last great empire that would rule all of Mon Shale. He had nearly been successful, but at just the last moment he had been cut down. His knighthood had fallen apart, but the remainder of their forces were mightier than any other enemy of Selaria.
It seemed that the Knights of Shadow had allies within the ranks of the Thyrans. Either they were double agents, or never were true Thyrans to begin with. The Thyrans had come to the forefront during Delonna's War of Shadow, and I could hardly see a true worshiper of Thyra able to align themselves with the destructive and chaotic force that was the Shadow Knighthood.
"Hmm, aren't you just lovely? Marked ever so perfectly, but you'll need more than just that. This only shows who you will now be following. This shows off none of your natural beauty of which you have much." The blade reappeared at my belly, and slowly, tenderly caressed with the flat of it's cool surface. My own energy was laced around it, and it felt warm where it coated the tip. It made the blade so warm it almost hurt, or maybe that was the nature of these things. I had never been the victim of one personally, I was rather glad to say.
I was then, but not before then, rather.
Just when I hoped that mayhaps this sadistic woman was done with her blade, it slashed up the inside of both of my bound arms. The pain was nearly unbearable and I am sure that only through some magic hidden within the blade was I able to stay conscious. When it clawed up the inside of both of my legs, from just above the ankle to under my skirts and stopping just where my hip met my body, if I could have cried with my eyes sealed my tears would have stained my whole body of that I am sure. "Still, you're missing something my dear, something I still need to add to make sure you are worthy of both display and conversion. You are far too Selarian looking yet. This must be fixed."
With all of my soul I wanted to scream and howl. I was Selarian! No one could take that from me, or at least so I silently prayed to my goddess. Please, I whispered in my mind, Please do not allow them to steal from me all that I may have left besides my faith in my goddess. "Aah... I know what it is..." I heard the blade clank to the ground, and thought that this meant my pain was over.
One would think by now I would be used to pain and would simply expect it until something brought about my timely end. I had certainly earned the right to die by now. This pain was unbearable. It was bad enough I had been bested within the castle that should have been mine without being able to raise a single hand, but now my very core was being threatened. What little magics I had control of would not work now and so I knew. For a Selarian, one needs not use their lips to breathe, their skin does so for them, and they breath not for anything in the air but magic. My bonds were severely limiting my magic intake.
I was sure I would not be able to expel any in any sort of defensive or offensive maneuvers.
Right when I let my body relax, for it had surely tensed from so much fear and pain, I felt my eyes open. Before me was not a horrid sight at first, until I felt just how open my eyes were. i could not close them anymore than I could have opened them moments prior. They were stuck looking forward, and from the breathing I heard, my preparations were being made by a woman standing just out of my left peripheral vision. I knew not of what was to be done, but I knew that it could be nothing good.
Risen above mine eyes as I stared helplessly, though truly it was more that I could not ignore what my eyes were set on seeing, was a small red gem. It was not a ruby, for it looked far more like a crystal of quartz construction, or mayhaps amethyst, but for it's was bloody scarlet. Never before in my life had I seen a stone of it's resemblance.
"Now, my pretty little daughter of Selaria, it's time to color your eyes." Her fingers squeezed the stone, crushing it, and it turned not to powder, but to liquid. With all of my will power, with all of my anger, my sorrow, my despair, everything that I still was and had within me, I tried to pull my lids shut. Of course it was to no avail. The droplets of crimson rained down into my eyes, and felt sharper than any sting I had felt before.
Almost as if my body was being bathed in that red, it became all that I could see, all that I could feel, taste, touch, smell, be. It was as if the red was infecting my very soul and all I could do was be melted and coated in it. I was a fly being caught in amber, being hung out to dry. This was all just to present me at some sort of ball held in my honor.
I took a solemn vow that everyone responsible for this would die at my hand. It was a wholly unakelan vow, but as that red burned into me, and I could feel my eyes light aflame, I knew that there was nothing left in me besides the knowledge of her teachings. Akela had never had this happen to her. She had not had her own Queendom, her own sister, and the enemy she was willing to let become friend all betray her. Somehow, the only person I felt any love for was the hand that hung over me. She found me beautiful, even as she scarred and destroyed who and what I was.
Her hand was just ever so slightly tanned, and she called me a daughter of Selaria. A Human would have just called me a Selarian. An Elf would have called me a silver eye'd one, or bloodless. She was Shay'din. Though the Shay'din had utterly betrayed my people and brought forth the greatest war our world had ever known, I respected them. They fought with their own code of honor though no one seemed to be willing to try and understand it, I was. They worshiped nor kneeled to anyone.
They had long cast off the bonds of worshiping gods or goddesses and instead they looked to them, or other mortals for examples of who and what to be. They did not need to be told what to do, they simply needed a path to exemplify. The only time their leaders had ever been ushered out of power had been when they began to try and force Akelan teachings on their people.
Delonna had been a Shay'din that refused to worship or kneel. He had refused to surrender, or take anyone's punishment but his own. He would take what he was owed, and he would suffer as he deserved to, but he would suffer for no other man or woman. When he tried to show the council a power other than Akela, a power that had only been myth, the power of shadow and darker desires, of dominance and sensuality, he had been exiled. But he had returned from his exile strong, and had taken out all fifteen members of their council in a "fair" fifteen on one arena challenge.
Only then did I understand why Delonna had to do what he had to do. Even Akela had grown corrupt, or if not corrupt, on the verge of being purged from existence. Selaria was about to betray it's people. I could not remain one of Akela's daughters, one of her warriors, if I was to rebel and fix my homeland. I had to lead the warriors who could understand my plight, and any others who would join my rather worthy cause.
I would strike down the Thyrans, and establish a new order. I would fix Selaria and take back my throne which I had only surrendered for a cause that was now defunct. The woman beside me made a gasping sound, and yet I did not need her to narrate what was occurring then. I could feel it. This was the final preparation she would need to unfold for me to be ready.
Melting from the center of my scalp I felt pure raw energy. I felt pure raw ambition, pure raw anger, raw fierceness, and yet still compassion within all of it. I felt all of the things I had denied myself rising to the surface and flushing over me. I felt my hair dance and kiss against my cheeks and my neck, flowing up and shifting as if wind was filling it, and surely it was though it may not have been able to be felt by any other than I. My wind was blowing through my hair. My very force of will, my very force of strength was coloring it.
My hair was turning black. The woman made a very satisfied sound and her hand came down, caressing my cheek that was still cut with the scrapes of the gauntlets. "Yes, beautiful little warrior, you are most definitely ready now. It is time for you to be released."
At that precise moment, I knew that my destiny was in no ones hands but mine.
Lenaris Sheria A'lamess was dead. A new woman was born in her place. And this woman would revenge the fallen. There would be a knighthood. It would be lead by me.
