Growing Season, 4980

 

 

The earth quivered beneath her. Only moments from drifting off to sleep, Ena was alert in an instant, a cold stab of panic piercing her chest.

She found me.

Lying on her side, Ena cracked open her eye and stared at the world. Dusk had arrived in the highlands.

The sky outside the overhang was still light, but muddled in early evening dimness as nivakule had already dipped below the peaks of the western range, shrouding the valley in premature darkness. Without moving a muscle, Ena carefully studied the wilderness outside of her protective hole. A dozen rakos trees stood guard before the stony outcrop, jutting up from the patchy grass and rock-strewn ground of the Urak Highlands. The rough, layered trunks of the tall trees still held the heat of the day, glowing red and orange to Ena’s eyes. Nothing moved other than the palm-like leaves of the rakos tree and the thickets of various bushes, all teased by the gentle wind blowing through the gulley.

Ena refused to move. To do so might alert the hunter. Instead, she waited and watched.

After a number of long, agonizing, empty moments, Ena stretched out a hand, careful to keep the quills along her forearm and wrist tightly clenched. She gently placed her palm on the exposed dirt ground beside her and pressed her fingertips into the finely sand and gravel.

A tiny, patterned tremor rippled from the ground, sending Ena’s heart pounding.

She approaches.

Without moving, Ena stared around the hole she had chosen for her resting place. There was one way in and one way out of the overhang in which she lay. She bit her thin, black lip.

A foolish choice. There is no excuse for an oversight such as this.

Ena considered her options. She could lay prone, pretending to be asleep and attempt to surprise her rival as she moved in for the kill or she could ready herself to fight. Focusing on the faint tremors tickling her fingertips, Ena tried to discern the intentions of the other Nascepel. After a moment, she scowled. The faint, slow, measured steps she sensed revealed much about her opponent.

She stalks.

Ena had been so careful, though.

How did she find me?

Immediately, Ena dismissed the question.

It does not matter how. Stop wasting time…

Staring at the landscape before the rocky outcropping, Ena studied the world outside. She watched the wispy curls of heat radiating from the rakos trees as well as the exposed chunks of rock that littered the area. The orange and yellows of the hot rocks contrasted with the coolness of the first patches of growing-season grass and the chilly evening air.

She is either very clever, very brazen, or very stupid to hunt now.

Ena despised this time of day. Most Nascepel did. The strange visible light of the sky mixing with the swirling, shifting heat of the environment played havoc with her vision. Moments liked this favored neither hunter nor prey.

Ena’s mind raced.

What would Mother do?

This evening would have marked the conclusion of her eighth uneventful day alone in the Urak Highlands. During the first three days of the ritual Vyza, Ena had barely slept, convinced she would be attacked the moment she closed her eyes. On the fourth day, she realized she would fail unless she rested. Since then, she had made sure to make time for sleep every day while varying her routine in an attempt to remain unpredictable, hoping her opponent would make a mistake.

Ena ground her teeth.

Apparently, it is I who erred.

After a long night and day of hunting her opponent, Ena had decided to rest early. She had chosen the overhang she now laid beneath, reasoning it would provide protection from being attacked from above or behind.

Now, she realized it was also a natural trap.

I can’t lay here. I need to move.

Keeping her breathing slow and steady, Ena lifted her hand from the ground, again tightly clenching the long, black blade-like quills that ran the length of her forearm. If she relaxed, the blades might brush against one another, making a distinct, light clacking sound that surely would alert her rival. Ena hoped it was blind luck her opponent had stumbled upon her location.

If she does not know I’m here…

Pausing for a moment, Ena swung her right leg backwards, gently wedging her bare, padded foot in the corner where the sandstone wall behind her met with the dirt ground. With a slow, even intake of breath, she pushed her body up with her left arm, keeping every quill clasped tight throughout the entire maneuver. She positioned her left leg underneath her and pulled the right forward to place it next to her left. Ena ended up a crouching, bundled, ball of quills. She slowly released the blades along arms, hands, and legs, pleased she was no longer exceedingly vulnerable.

This is better than waiting for death.

Ena let the evening air drift into her nose, detecting the fresh scent of early grass, the odors of musty and dry dirt, the overly sweet aroma of fresh ildri blossoms, and the pungent spiciness of the rakos tree sap. The smells mixed and twisted, each separate and distinct, yet mingling with the others to form a bouquet unique to this region of the Urak Highlands at this time of year. Ena sniffed again, frowning.

Nothing.

Despite the rich aromas, it was the absence of a particular odor that frustrated Ena.

I don’t smell her.

After eight days in the trial highlands, one thing was clear: the Nascepel tracking her was exceptional. Ena suspected she must be one of the best the Jarel cepelrodina had to offer. More than a few times in the past few days, Ena had wondered if was the result of poor luck that she had drawn a difficult opponent or if her mother had arranged the competition.

Ena’s mind raced, wondering where her rival was.

She must know I am here…

Ena scowled, perturbed by the excellence her opponent displayed. Peering out at the rakos trees and other vegetation, Ena scanned the wilderness and noticed the gentle breeze was blowing left to right across the front of the overhang. Her eyes flicked to the right side of the opening.

If I can’t smell her, she comes from the right, then.

Ena studied the area, watching for the slightest movement or variation in the heat radiating from rocks, trees, or bushes of the world.

Nothing. Again.

After a number of long moments, Ena stole a glance at the coolness of the sandstone around her and frowned.

If she passes past the opening, she’ll easily spot me here.

The breeze shifted and a puff of errant wind whipped through Ena’s hiding spot before exiting into the open. Ena bit her lip hard enough, she nearly drew blood.

Slice the Bohov! She has to smell me!

Ena reached out tentatively with one hand and placed it on the dirt again. After a few long moments, she drew it back, worried by what she did not feel.

She’s stopped.

Ena’s heart beat faster. She was certain the hunter had detected her.

I can’t stay here…I need to move.

The feeling of being trapped was gaining a firm grip on her. She tried to gain control over the fear, but was losing.

Act like Mother would.

Ena was about ready to spring forth when an intense pametredku suddenly washed over her.

A Nascepel, her red and black blades flashing in the bright mid-day light of nivakule, lay crouched beside a massive, sandstone bolder. Her heart pounded. She knew three members of the Mihetr cepelrodina were close, hunting her.

She could smell two of them, but the third was hidden from all senses. The red and black Nascepel reached down with her right hand, the iridescent quills along her forearm rippling in anxious waves, and picked up a small stone. Squeezing the dry rock in her hand, she paused for a moment, trying to gauge where the others were.

The two she sensed were getting closer. The third was still hidden, upwind from her.

Taking a risk, she flung the stone far away from where she crouched, into a thicket of distant bushes. The stone bounced off another boulder, sending a sharp crack through the air. Immediately, a burst of clicking exploded from all around her and three Nascepel converged on where the stone had landed. She could see their quills rigid and ready to tear her apart.

With a smile, the nameless red and black Nascepel leapt up and ran in the other direction, content to live to fight another time.

Ena shook her head and blinked.

The pametredku only lasted a split-second, but it was a moment in time where Ena was not in control of her faculties. Normally, she would have cursed the timing of the ancient memory, but not now. Instead, she smiled.

Thank you, ancestor.

Ena scanned the ground for an appropriately sized stone, keeping a close eye on the entryway. Choosing a rough hunk of rock within reach, she gently lifted it, and held it in her hand. Aiming for a group of trees to the far left outside the overhang, Ena tossed the stone, careful not to hit the rock ceiling. The rock tumbled through the air, missing the first rakos tree it passed before ricocheting off the trunk of another, sending a solid thud reverberating through the gulley. Instantly, a sapphire-tinged, black blur dashed across the front of the cave hole, rushing toward the tree struck by the rock.

There you are.

Ena crouched low, tensing her muscles. Taking a quick breath, she launched forward in a giant leap, uncoiling all of her pent-up energy. She flew through the air silently – barely missing the lip of the overhang – all the while keeping her eyes fixed on the back of the Nascepel below her. Most Nascepel could jump halfway up a mature rakos tree, but Ena’s vaulting ability was prodigious, even at her young age. She was easily the best leaper among her sisters.

Even with all of the natural ability, Ena had misjudged the timing of her jump. The hunter below was impressively fast and was outpacing Ena’s soaring leap. Ena recognized she would land some distance behind the black and sapphire Nascepel, forcing her to continue her attack from the ground. Fortunately, her opponent was making enough noise to cover Ena’s landing, assuming she could do so silently.

Surprise will still be mine…

The Nascepel rushing toward Ena’s distraction was nearly full-grown, her height comparable to one of the number of small ivona evergreens spotting the gorge. Nevertheless, she was still older than Ena as evidenced by the blue tint of a number of the quills along her forearms and back. Plummeting through the air, Ena caught a quick whiff of the other Nascepel. The scent was unfamiliar.

She is not Idenek…

Moments before reaching the ground, Ena realized with alarm she was going to land on a patch of dirt littered with some of the palm-like reed leaves of the rakos tree. Brown and arid with sharp edges, lesser creatures might worry the razor-like leaves would slice through all but the thickest of skin. Ena did not worry about cutting her feet, as the thick pads of rough, black skin on the soles of her feet would protect her. What concerned Ena was the dryness of the leaves.

Gritting her teeth in anger, she settled on the ground, crouching to cushion her fall. Her landing would have been impressively silent if not for the maddening crunch of the rakos leaves that was loud enough for her opponent to hear. Without wasting a moment, Ena stood and began sprinting toward the other Nascepel.

As expected, the sapphire and black Nascepel heard the crackling leaves. The strange Nascepel skidded to a sudden stop, kicking up dirt, sticks, and dead leaves. Whirling around, the hunter glared at Ena with wide-open, beady, black eyes. A surprised, irritated sneer twisted across her face.

Ena cursed the rakos leaves.

I could have been on your back…

Ena slowed to a stop. Without the element of surprise, caution was appropriate. The Nascepel standing before her was larger and stronger than her.

She’s nearly mature.

The long, sharp-edged quills running the length of her opponent’s arms sprang to attention with a distinctive rattle. Ena responded immediately by flexing her own. The member of the Jarel cepelrodina glared at her, the heat of her stare matching the wisps of orange curling from her body.

What now?

Ena held the gaze of the Nascepel, trying to remain calm. This situation did not favor her.

Should I run?

Remembering the fleetness of the Nascepel, Ena discounted the thought. In the open wilderness, the Jarel would easily catch her.

I suppose I must figure a way to kill her now, then.

Ena felt no animosity toward her opponent. The black and sapphire Nascepel was nothing more than an obstacle laid before her.

I’m sorry this has to happen, Jarel.

Taking advantage of the quiet moment, Ena studied her opponent. The Jarel’s pinched face was long, with a pronounced, pointy nose protruding from the short, soft black quills framing her leathery skin. She wore tight, grey-cloth breeches that halted above the knee and where the lower quills started. A snakeskin halter crisscrossed her chest, leaving her soft, belly exposed. Ena wore a similar outfit.

Ena’s gaze flicked to the iridescent blue and black quills hanging from her thick forearms.

How well can you use those?

Her opponent issued a low, chittering, clicking sound from her throat. After a few seconds, she stopped, punctuating it with a sweeping flourish of her arm quills. The display was a clear, unmistakable challenge.

Ena did not respond. She waited, motionless.

Show me something I can use, Jarel…

The sneer on the Nascepel deepened when the challenge failed to prompt a reaction. Scowling, she snapped, “I challenged you, coward!” To any observer not of the Nascepel race, the words would have sounded like a series of unique hisses and sharp clicks.

Ena remained silent.

Impatience leads to mistakes…

 “Are you just going to stand there?” shouted the Nascepel.

Ena kept her face impassive.

You remind me of my sister.

Thrown off by Ena’s silence, the member of the Jarel cepelrodina glanced around her, perhaps wondering if she had been deceived by more than a simple rock striking a tree.

There is no trap, Jarel.

Her opponent concluded the same and turned all of her attention on Ena. Taking a different approach, the Nascepel taunted, “Do all Idenek cower as you do?”

Ena’s lip twitched. The insult to her cepelrodina stung.

Sensing she had pierced Ena’s stoicism, the Jarel pushed harder. “How is it your family has risen as high as it has, Idenek, with cowards like you in the line?”

The sharp words would have prompted most Nascepel of the Idenek family to attack instantly. Even the smaller, more timid males of her race might have reacted to the insult. As difficult as it was to ignore the goading, Ena did not move. However, she could not prevent a quick, irritated ripple of quills along her spine.

Remembering her mother’s instructions, Ena fought her instincts and remained in place.

Leaders dictate. They do not react.

After a few more quiet moments, her opponent’s sneer faltered.

She thought that was sure to work.

Intent on issuing further insult to Ena’s cepelrodina, the black and sapphire Nascepel called out, “The Idenek must be in decline – why else would they send their younglings to Vyza? Does your mother think you are not worth teaching? Did she send you here to die?”

Ena smiled, drew in a long, deep breath of highlands air, and said, “I think not. I will ask her when I return, however. Although, I suspect the Cepelmatka would dislike the rudeness you displayed.” Ena watched the sneering confidence drain from her opponent’s face like water from an overturned pot.

In a voice decidedly less sure than mere moments before, the Jarel asked haltingly, “You are a Daughter?” She uttered the word with the proper level of respect. “You are of Patona Idenek’s line?”

Ena said simply, “I am.” Her opponent’s shoulders slumped.

No longer sure of yourself, are you, Jarel?

After a few quiet moment, the Nascepel’s eyes narrowed, confused. “She sent you now?” Her bewilderment was understandable. “But your quills are still black. Why…why did she send you?” The taunting vehemence was gone from her voice. Worry replaced it.

Good…doubt yourself.

“My memories have come early,” replied Ena. “I may be her youngest, but Mother believes I am ready.”

A flicker of interest flashed over the Jarel cepelrodina member’s face. “You are her youngest?”

Ena clenched her teeth, silently cursing her mistake. She should never have revealed such information.

Overconfidence leads to carelessness.

The familial details of the brood line of the Cepelmatka were a closely guarded secret for good reason. Once every daughter of the Cepelmatka reached the age of maturation and had survived or perished during Vyza, the transition of power among the cepelrodina would begin. It was a time when the influence and authority of the various cepelrodina fluctuated. Most struggles between the families spread throughout the Urak Highlands occurred during such transitions as different cepelrodina tested the power and resolve of the new family’s leader. The knowledge that the Idenek cepelrodina was nearing a switch in leadership would give the Jarel time to prepare.

Ena frowned.

I must win now.

Pretending that she did not care about revealing the information, Ena said, “I am.”

Her opponent grinned wide, displaying flattened, white teeth. “I will gain favor when I share that with my Cepelmatka.”

“I do not think you will have the chance,” replied Ena confidently. “I am young, but I am as capable as any of my sisters.”

Her statement was half-true. Sira and Milix – five and seven years older, respectively – both had begun to experience the pametredku at the age of thirteen, the expected start of maturation for a female Nascepel. Milix was a vicious fighter, much better than Sira or Ena.  Sira was smart and cunning but, physically, was the weakest of all three. Regardless, both her sisters had had a number of years to learn from the ancestral memories of the Idenek line before facing Vyza.

When Ena began to experience pametredku at the early age of ten, many among the Idenek cepelrodina had discussed what such an occurrence might mean, if anything. It was exceedingly rare for someone so young to be able to recall the memories of her line.

Just over a year later, her mother – Patona Idenek, the Cepelmatka of all Idenek – declared Ena was ready to partake in Vyza. The announcement came as a surprise to Ena, as well as the entire Idenek clan. Ena had wondered what her mother’s reasoning was.

Right now, though, the question was the furthest thing from her mind.

Win and survive first…

Still grinning, the Nascepel of the Jarel cepelrodina began to take slow, measured steps toward Ena. “Patona Idenek is a strong and wise Cepelmatka – even we of the Jarel respect her. But you are too young for Vyza, Daughter. Your mother erred in sending you against me.”

Ena eyed her opponent, teetering on the edge of admitting her opponent might be right. The sapphire and black Nascepel had to be at least fifteen years old and was both taller and stronger. Ena tried to summon a reserve of confidence, but could not manage to do so.

Maybe I am not ready.

Suddenly, a pametredku gripped her.

Doubt flooded the veins of the grey and black Idenek. Two foes of the Gurich cepelrodina stood on the sun-drenched ridge before her with their quill-blades at the ready. Both females clicked and hissed as they began to advance on her slowly. The Idenek could not retreat; the ridge she stood upon was too high. A fall from here would easily kill her.

The dusty orange and black quills of the Gurich family glinted in the light of nivakule.

Studying the pair slinking toward her, she frowned, admitting to herself that she might be overmatched. The Gurich family was known to be particularly fierce in battle.

However, so were the Idenek.

A slow, confident smile spread over her face. Her quills sprung to life and she pounced.

Ena gasped as the pametredku passed. Again, only a quick moment had passed, but this memory had been more intense than most. Energy pulsed through her body with each heartbeat. Focusing on her approaching opponent, Ena quickly judged she was now within striking distance.

I am Idenek.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Ena crouched and sprung into the air with an incredible quickness, extending and flexing the bladed quills along her arms. The sudden movement took the Jarel family member by surprise and she gaped upwards, watching Ena fly through the air. As Ena coursed downward, extending the quill along her legs outward, the Nascepel of the Jarel recovered from her shock and set her feet, readying herself for the incoming attack. A confident smile spread over her face as she raised her arms, rigidly pointing her razor sharp blades up, aiming to skewer Ena as she landed. The moment the Jarel rival set herself in the position, Ena twisted in mid-air, flipping about to complete a near-impossible feat of agility, flinging her feet to the sky and bringing her hands to point to the ground. The sudden change in tact startled the Jarel and she dropped her arms a bit, confused by Ena’s maneuver.

Perfect.

Letting loose a wild, clicking scream, Ena quickly drew back both arms, holding her right out to the side and bending her left underneath her, careful not to pierce her own soft underbelly with her quills. Just as she reached the black and blue Nascepel, she ripped her left arm up quickly, easily sweeping both bladed arms of her opponent back and knocking her off balance. As quill struck quill with a resonating, sharp, almost metallic clack, Ena thrust her right arm down and to the left.

Victory.

Ena felt her blades sink into the soft, yielding flesh of the Jarel’s stomach, her blades meeting as much resistance as if she had stabbed a deep puddle of mud. Once inside, Ena flexed her forearm quills, doing untold damage to the insides of the doomed Nascepel.

A faint, surprised puff of air rushed from her opponent as they both crashed to the ground. Ena whipped her legs downward in time to jam her feet on the dirt, preventing her own impalement on the black and blue blades of the Nascepel below her. The quills on Ena’s right arm, having pushed through the back of her opponent, pierced the hard earth and the Jarel slid down along the blades to slam into the ground. In one, fluid movement, Ena withdrew her quills and immediately sprung up into the air again, flipping forward a short distance. It proved to be a wise decision as she heard the whistle of the Jarel’s quills as her opponent made a desperate, retaliatory swipe.

Ena grinned as she landed in a crouch, back to her opponent, knowing the wound she had inflicted was fatal. No Nascepel could survive such a blow. The fight was over before it had begun.

I am the daughter of the Cepelmatka. I have survived Vyza. I am Idenek.

Strained hisses of pain mixed with a sickening gurgling caused Ena to turn around. The member of the Jarel family lay on the ground, arm quills fully relaxed as she gripped the gaping wound on her stomach. Ena knew she was not long for this realm. Soon, she would be on her way to the great burrows of Maeana, the Bohyn of Death.

Ena approached her fallen adversary, unafraid, and kneeled beside the dying Nascepel. The scent of blood and exposed flesh filled Ena’s nose. The smell nearly made her sick. There was a reason Nascepel ate only plants and roots.

The Jarel looked up into her face, her eyes swirling with pain and surprised shock. Ena admired the strength she was displaying by remaining quiet. A weaker Nascepel would be screaming in pain.

In a tight, clipped tone, her opponent said, “You are quick, Idenek.”

Ena inclined her head with gratitude, “You are brave, Jarel.”

A rueful grin briefly flickered across her rival’s face before her expression twisted in pain. After a moment, she was able to push the agony away and said quietly, “May I have the name of the Daughter who bested me so quickly?”

Ena nodded. Vyza was over; it was only polite to answer. “I am Ena Idenek, third daughter of Patona Idenek, the Cepelmatka of all Idenek.”

Her opponent nodded, grimacing. “Greetings, Ena. Your mother was right to send you to Vyza.”

“Yes, she was,” replied Ena gently. “May I have your name, so I may honor your passing, Jarel?”

Through gritted teeth, the Nascepel said, “I am Dalpi Jarel, only daughter of Lenos Jarel, fourth cousin to the Cepelmatka of all Jarel.”

A flash of regret burst inside of Ena.

Only daughter?

With sadness filling her voice, she asked, “You are the last of your mother’s line?”

Dalpi hesitated a moment before saying simply, “Yes.” Her response was neutral in tone, but her eyes revealed deep shame and sorrow.

Ena did not relish knowing that she had ended the ancestral memory line of a family. In a cheerless tone, she said, “I am sorry for your line, Dalpi.”

Her face wracked with pain, Dalpi muttered, “It is the way of things.”

Quiet settled between the pair. The evening wind picked up briefly, blowing through the gulley and gently rustling the palms of the rakos trees overhead. Stray, light pink petals of the ildri blossoms drifted past. When one happened to settle on Dalpi’s cheek, Ena used a single finger and soft touch to brush it away.

Ena sighed. “Would you like me to end your suffering, Dalpi Jerel?”

“I would, Ena Idenek.”

Ena reached up with her right arm, extended the longest, sharpest blade on the back of her hand, and made to draw it across Dalpi’s neck.

Dalpi raised a blood-soaked hand and said, “Wait…”

Ena paused.

“It is an honor to have lost my life to your quill, Daughter of Patona Idenek, but know the Jarel will rise to challenge your line someday.”

Ena nodded. “I would expect no less, Dalpi Jerel.”

Dalpi nodded once and then tilted her head back, exposing her neck. In silence, Ena sliced deep.

Farewell.

Within a few seconds, Dalpi Jarel, the last of her line, was gone.

Ena remained crouched beside the husk for a time, trying to decide what she felt. Taking a life was a rite of passage for all female Nascepel. Even so, the exultant emotions of her victory clashed with the melancholy that came from knowing her quills had ended generations of memories.

All the while, worry about what came next hid in the shadows of her mind.

Surviving Vyza was the crowning achievement in the lives of Nascepel females. For a daughter of the Cepelmatka, it was merely the precursor to something much more momentous. A terribly difficult choice faced her next.

And what will my decision be?

Standing, Ena turned her back on the corpse and began to walk east. Despite the time of day, Ena decided to start her trek home immediately. It would take two days to reach to the burrows of Molmushak from here and there was no point in delaying.

Now comes the hard part.

With a quiet sigh, she whispered to herself, “I am Ena Idenek, Daughter of the Cepelmatka.”

Is that all, though?

 

*     *     *

 

The city of Molmushak waited, perched along a tall, rocky ridge in the Urak Highlands, its earthen towers rising high over the surrounding lands. The dozens of tan, smooth columns of dirt and sand stood wide at their base and swept upwards, stretching toward the cloud-speckled sky, each topped with the fluttering, red pennant of the Idenek. Gaping, dark holes in the side of the hill the city stood on led to the underground burrows tunneled beneath the towers of the surface. Some Nascepel preferred to live above ground, but most favored below.

Not yet midday, nivakule hovered in the east, sending its heat down to warm the day. The growing season had just begun, so the air would remain chilly throughout the morning, until after mid-day when the strength of nivakule would grow hot enough to turn the highlands pleasant.

Ena stood still between two of the many fields that surrounded the city, staring up at the towers. A small sigh of resignation escaped from her lips. She had hoped seeing the city after surviving Vyza might encourage her to make her decision. There had been no such moment of inspiration.

When will I decide?

Pulling her gaze from Molmushak, Ena absentmindedly gazed at the Nascepel males surrounding her, watching them toil in the dirt as they prepared the fields for this year’s collection of crops. Covered in field muck, they were using their wide, dull quills as simple farming tools, digging long rows in the tilled dirt. Ena shook her head.

I cannot imagine…

A female of the Nascepel would never dare use their blades in such a manner.

I suppose that is why we have the males.

Any Nascepel could burrow great tunnels through all but the hardest-packed dirt. However, females only did it when they must. One of the first pametredku Ena had ever experienced was of an ancestor digging a tunnel under a settlement of filthy greyskin orcs. Upon hearing a signal reverberate through the ground, the Idenek ancestor had exploded up from the dirt, along with hundreds of others, springing an attack on the dirty, brutish, meat-eaters who had crept into Nascepel territory. Even now, Ena remembered the details of the vivid vision: the thrill of her ancestor moments before the attack was sprung, the surprised expressions of the tusk-faced orcs, and the pleasure of removing their presence from Nascepel lands. A tiny smile spread over her lips.

“May I assist you, Daughter?”

The hissing, yet respectful, voice pulled her attention back to the crop fields of Molmushak. Looking over, she spotted a short male a few steps away from her, his arms held behind him to hide his blades as was expected. Like most males, drab browns and tans mixed in with the black quills. He was shorter than Ena even though he was full-grown and Ena had at least another three years before she was fully mature.

Ena stared at him for a moment, partially taken aback that he would openly address her, before realizing at whom she was looking. Unlike most of the other Nascepel in the fields, his quills were clean.

“You are the Sef of this field?” she asked. For every three or four fields, a single Nascepel male was responsible for the workers throughout the growing season and, ultimately, the crops produced. Sef were the only members of the fieldworkers permitted to speak to females. Still, she was surprised he had spoken first. It was allowable, but bordered on being rude.

The male inclined his head. “I am, Daughter.” It was the second time he had used the honorific to address her.

He knows who I am.

The brazenness of the Sef suddenly made sense.

Shaking her head, she said, “I require nothing at the moment. Please, continue with your duties.”

“As you wish, Daughter.” The male started to turn away, but stopped. After pausing a moment, he glanced back to Ena and added, “Congratulations on your victory, Daughter. It is heartening to see your return. Most of our cepelrodina will rejoice.”

Ena frowned.

Most?

It was presumptuous of the male to have praised her. She could have openly reprimanded him, but it did not seem worth it to do so. Other things occupied her mind.

“Thank you, Sef.”

The Sef inclined his head and said, “Good luck in the trial to come.” His words were part good wishes, part question. Ena scowled.

I have not made my decision.

Using a sharp tone of dismissal, Ena said, “That will be all, Sef.”

Backing away, the Sef muttered, “Of course, Daughter.” The leader of the fieldworkers turned away quickly and hurried back to the field, making a show of inspecting the work of the other males as he went. She almost felt bad for snapping at him.

He just wants to know what their fate is to be.

She noticed most of the fieldworkers were stealing quick glances in her direction.

They all do.

Ena watched the workers absently, wondering what type of crop they were planting here. Clay pots arranged along the side of the field surely held the seeds that would be sown, but they were unmarked. Ena sniffed the air, hoping she could figure out what crop would grow here by the smell of the seed, but could not distinguish a familiar scent. The musty odor of freshly overturned dirt mixed with the body aroma of the males working the fields overwhelmed her senses. Unable to detect any vegetable or root, Ena turned away. She was stalling.

She gazed back at the burrows and towers of Molmushak.  

There is little point in postponing the inevitable.

With a short sigh, Ena strode toward the ridgeline and the great, yawning openings in the hillside that led to the underground portions of the city. Hoping to avoid more well-wishers like the pesky Sef of the fields, Ena headed for one of the smaller entryways on the far right side. Weaving her way through the fields, she ignored the sidelong glances from other fieldworkers.

Growing season in the Urak Highlands had always been Ena’s favorite time of year. The trees were in full blossom, early flowers were peeking up from the sides of the path she followed, and the tiny birds sitting in the trees overhead filled the air with a constant song. Today, she noticed none of it.

What should I do?

After a time, she left the fields behind and approached the burrow entry. Ena wondered if there was any chance she could make it through the crowded passageways of the lower city without being stopped or recognized. She briefly considered heading back to the fields and dirtying herself in the mud to conceal her identity. Almost immediately, she discounted the idea. She could never enter the chamber of the Cepelmatka in such a state.

Glancing ahead, she spotted three females standing at the entryway of the tunnel, tasked with checking every Nascepel that attempted to enter Molmushak. All three were years past their maturation, most likely middle-aged and in their early twenties. Two had blood-red crimson quills mixed in with their iridescent black, while the third displayed a color much rarer in the residents of Molmushak: a crisp emerald green. Ena did not recognize any of the three by name.

Ena’s eyes lingered on the green and black Nascepel.

She’s of the Mirad line…

Four generations past, the Idenek had conquered the smaller Mirad family, absorbing their survivors into the Idenek cepelrodina. They were full Idenek, now, but the color of the quills was a reminder of a time past. As it so happened, Ena had experienced a few pametredku of battles between Idenek and Mirad and had come to form a high opinion of the Mirad. The family had fought well, they were simply outnumbered.

At this time of day, the traffic into and out of the city was light, allowing the three Nascepel females to focus all of their attention on Ena as she walked up to the earthen gateway. Ena glanced into the dark tunnel and watched as a cool breeze drifted out from the inside of the burrows and swept past the hot bodies of the guards, curling around their bodies. The scent of the city washed over her. Feeling a momentary sense of relief, Ena smiled.

Home.

As Ena reached the proper distance, the emerald green Nascepel hid her blades behind her and said, “Welcome home, Daughter. It is good to see you return.” Ena judged her honest in her greeting.

Pulling her arms behind her as well, Ena drew to a stop and studied the female. After a moment, she said respectfully, “Thank you. It is good to be home.”

One of the crimson females – a tall specimen of their race with a wide face – said, “Your mother will be pleased to see you, Daughter.”

Ena’s gaze flicked to the speaker. Nodding, she quietly acknowledged, “Yes, I expect she will.”

The third Nascepel said carefully, “Most of us are, Daughter. We have high hopes.”

Ena pressed her lips together. Yet another Nascepel was seeking information about her upcoming decision. Decorum required her to be polite, so Ena simply said, “Thank you.”

The crimson Nascepel with the wide face said with a smile, “I suspect your sisters will not be happy. At least one, for certain…” The other two Nascepel smiled as well.

Ena admitted, “You are most likely, correct.” The three guards hissed and chittered, laughing softly.

I am glad you find humor in the situation…

The sense of familiarity with which the three unknown guards were treating Ena with was one of the reasons she had wanted to avoid the most crowded paths into the city. Within the burrows and towers of Molmushak, all females – but one – were equals. The Cepelmatka was the single ruler of the family and city, while all others followed. Other than the cursory modicum of respect shown to her for being of Patona Idenek’s brood, Ena could not expect any additional deference.

The second crimson Nascepel asked, “Whom did you face, Daughter?”

Resigning herself to the fact that she was unlikely to escape detailed questions, Ena launched into a full accounting of Vyza. The three Nascepel asked questions throughout and Ena did her best to conceal her irritation at each interruption. She concluded the tale with a recount of the quick battle against Dalpi Jarel, but did not reveal the name of the rival Nascepel she had killed. That piece of knowledge was for her alone.

After finishing her tale, the three guards offered their congratulations, along with their admiration for both the patience she displayed coupled with the quick viciousness with which she had ended the fight. Ena thanked them, anxious to move on.

Finally, the emerald Nascepel stepped aside and said, “We have delayed your return too long, Daughter. Please, continue.”

Ena bowed her head. “Thank you.” She made to move past when one of the other Nascepel spoke.

“I wish you luck in the trial to come.”

The words brought Ena to a halt. She bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. Days and weeks of anxiousness came to a head. Glaring at the female, Ena asked, “Are you able to see the future, Idenek?”

A shadow darkened the Nascepel’s face. “No.”

Ena snapped, “Then do not presume to know what is to come.” Immediately, she moved past the trio, knowing that she had just approached the limit of acceptable rudeness and nearly crossed it. She entered the cool, dark burrow and after rounding a corner and leaving the bright world behind her, she stopped and leaned against the dirt wall.

That was foolish of me!

Cautioning herself to behave better, Ena admonished herself again.

Mother would never have reacted that way.

After taking a few deep, calming breaths, Ena stood upright and continued into the undercity.

The tunnel was as tall as it was wide and would have allowed a few dozen Nascepel to walk side by side. However, at the moment, Ena was the sole traveler heading into the ever-darkening depths of the hill. Any errant light from the mouth of the tunnel soon faded, leaving Ena to rely on her ability to see the temperatures around her. The curved walls and ceiling, as well as the level floor, all appeared a strange greenish-blue hue to her, with blobs of variations here and there.

As she rounded a bend in the tunnel, she spotted glowing, red and orange figures moving about a hall ahead of her. The open space was used for both the storage and sale of root vegetables from the previous growing season. At this time of year, the stock of roots was half-gone and the chamber was not a well-populated section of the city. However, Molmushak was populous enough that there was no place she could go without encountering at least small groups.

The majority of the Nascepel she saw going about their business were tall, which meant most of the thin crowd was female.

Slice the Bohov…they will still stop me and ask questions.

Knowing there was little she could do to avoid the coming interrogation, Ena took a deep breath and quickly marched into the open space, hoping she move fast enough to slip past. After only a few paces into the hall, however, she heard a number of the Nascepel around her mumble, “The Daughter has returned…”

Ena shook her head.

I’ll never make it there…

Forced to stop in the room, surrounded by a growing crowd of females, Ena readied herself to recite the tale of Vyza again.

Perhaps I will reach Mother by nightfall…

 

*     *     *

 

The heat of the day had all but evaporated, leaving the nighttime air chilly enough that Ena was forced to fight off shivers.

The chamber of the Cepelmatka was bathed in the soft, bluish light of modramesic streaming through the wide, circular openings in the sandstone and mud wall. Nivakule had fled some time ago, abandoning the Urak Highlands and allowing the land to fall prey to the darkness of night. A faint breeze twisted through the openings and whipped around the chamber, carrying with it the smell of charred wood smoke and pungent vegetables roasting.  

Ena’s stomach grumbled.

I am so hungry.

She smiled, amused by the commonness of the thought at such a singular, significant point in her life.

Her journey to the surface through the lower level of the burrows had taken even longer than she had feared. As she had made her way through the tunnels and chambers, countless Nascepel had stopped her to ask about her trial in the wilderness. Resigned to her fate, Ena politely recited the story each time, even though she wanted nothing more than to push silently past them all.

She had crested the surface as nivakule turned the sky and clouds various hues of reds and purples. Even more Nascepel had halted her above ground, asking for details regarding Vyza and wishing her well on what was to come, transparently curious about her choice. Ena thanked all of them, but did not give any indication what her decision was going to be. She still did not know herself.

A short time ago, she had finally reached the tallest spire of Molmushak, the Cepelmatka Veze, and had made her way inside. From that point, no one had pestered her about Vyza. She walked though the elaborate halls and up the ramps of the earthen structure until she reached the pinnacle of the tower, all without being stopped once. Ena suspected her mother had given the order to allow her to proceed without further delays and was partially grateful for the reprieve. However, it meant the moment of decision was finally at hand.

What will I do?

Staring into the open chamber, Ena eyed her mother, sitting cross-legged and perfectly still on the other side of the round room. Modramesic shone through the largest circular opening of the chamber, directly behind her mother. The blue disc glowed bright, framing the silhouette of Patona Idenek, Cepelmatka of all Idenek and ruler of Molmushak. Ena could not make out her mother’s face, but she could clearly see the red and orange heat radiating from the body of the Cepelmatka. It appeared as if her mother was aflame against the bright ball in the sky.

Ena’s sisters waited as well, sitting on their ceremonial mats with their backs facing the entryway. Milix, the eldest of the three, sat on Ena’s left, a dozen paces from the Cepelmatka, while Sira sat directly between Ena and their mother. To the right, an open mat waited for Ena.

It comes to this…

Ena took a deep breath, let it out, and stepped into the cool, silent chamber. A dozen Nascepel guards ringed the arching walls, all with their black eyes staring at Ena, anxiously waiting to see what the future held for the Idenek.

I wish I had some idea, myself…

Stemrik, her mother’s Poradce, stood at a respectable distance off to the side of the Cepelmatka. Ena glanced at the only male in the room as she paced toward the empty mat. The pair locked eyes for the briefest of moments.

Good evening, Stemrik.

Besides being her mother’s primary councilor, Stemrik was a user of magic. Called kouzelník, magic users were rare among the Nascepel, and as such, were highly valued members of society. Their importance was great enough that even a skinny, weak male like Stemrik was free of the cultural restrictions normally placed on the gender. When Ena’s mother had chosen to send her to Vyza, Stemrik had openly protested against the wisdom of such a move. Patona had patiently listened to her councilor’s advice and then ignored him.

Neither sister turned to look at her as she walked to the open mat on the right. Her mother, however, traced the entire trek across the room, her head slowly turning to follow Ena’s measured steps. The steady, quiet gaze set Ena’s nerves aflame. The magnitude of the moment suddenly seemed dozens of times greater than at any point in the past. 

What do I do, Mother?

The chamber was silent save for Ena’s scuffling steps and the gentle whistle of the breeze.

Am I ready? Am I too young?

Ena eyed the open spot on the floor and the circular, reed rug waiting for her.

What does it say about me that I can’t decide?

Upon reaching the edge of the mat, she stopped and stared at the woven reeds.

Do all Daughters waver like this?

She looked to her sisters, glancing at Sira first before staring at Milix. The faint, diffused light shining into the chamber did nothing to soften the hardened expressions on their faces. The thin, hair-like quills that framed both sisters’ faces appeared black in the dimness of the room, but Ena knew they were pure crimson.

Can I hope to win?

Milix and Sira were both much older than Ena, but only two years separated the pair’s births. In physical appearance, they were nearly identical. The similarity ended there, though. Milix was compulsively belligerent and competitive to a fault, thoroughly incapable of thinking with anything other than gut instinct. Neither Ena nor Sira liked their older sister much at all. Ena suspected their mother did not, either.

Sira, on the other hand, had been a good sister and friend. She was cerebral, thoughtful, and kind, but overly timid in Ena’s opinion. Sira was not a fighter. The fact she had both survived Vyza and then had chosen to sit on her mat had surprised many Idenek.

Ena stared at her sisters in the darkened room.

You are my still my blood…how can I take –

“Make your decision, my youngest.” Patona Idenek’s clear, crisp voice cut through the silence like the sharpest of bladed quills through taut skin.

Ena glanced in the direction of her mother. From where she stood now, she was able to see her features now that modramesic was not directly behind the Cepelmatka. Seeing her face did not help, though. Her mother’s expression was blank, unreadable.

What would you have me do, Mother?

Ena yearned to ask the question aloud, but did not. No one was permitted to council her. A Cepelmatka was expected to make difficult decisions. That extended to this, the first potential decision for the future Cepelmatka. For the first time, she truly understood the weight her mother carried.

Would you have taken the burden if you knew then what you know now?

Her mother waited silently, impassive. A burst of wind ruffled the soft quills around her face.

This is my choice…no one else’s…

Closing her eyes, Ena uttered one last silent prayer to the Buh of the Hunt, hoping for one last bit of guidance.

Thonda, if this is what you ask of –

A pametredku interrupted her prayer, hitting her with an explosive force unlike any memory before.

A grey, crimson, and black-quilled Nascepel sat alone in the chamber of the Cepelmatka. She had sent her guards away some time ago; she thought better without the dozen Nascepel hovering nearby.

Her legs ached, throbbing from holding the same position for such a long time. After pushing herself up from her bright red mat, she wandered to one of the circular openings in the tower wall. As she stretched her muscles and flexed her quills, she stared out over the towers of Molmushak and great, green fields surrounding the city lit bright by the light of nivakule.

A difficult decision faced her now and she did not know what to do.

A chief of an orcish tribe from the west had crossed the Sefa River and was threatening to push deep into Nascepel territory. The Idenek were safe for the moment, but the destruction of a problematic, rival family of Nascepel was imminent, sure to be crushed by the onrush of the greyskins. However, the Cepelmatka knew if the filthy orcs were permitted to gain a foothold in the western highlands, they would continue to push east. The greyskins were a despicable race of dirty, stupid, filthy meat-eaters, but they were fearsome fighters. Left unchecked, the chief would draw others to his pennant, gather momentum, and would eventually reach Molmushak.

The Cepelmatka could let the rival cepelrodina perish, which would surely be an outcome popular with the Idenek family. On the other hand, she could aid the rivals, anger the family, but potentially ensure the safety of the line.

The Cepelmatka dropped her head, wondering what she should do.

Ena drew in a sharp, surprised breath as the intense memory cut off.

Great Ancestors…

She shook her head, shocked by what she had seen.

Unlike most of the pametredku, she recognized the exact origin of this memory.

Tira Idenek…

The Nascepel was the greatest Idenek Cepelmatka of the past twenty generations. Her bravery and brilliance were renowned. Stories of Tira Idenek’s exploits were told by any who was not a descendent of the Cepelmatka so none of the Idenek would forget. During a time of great conflict with a number of orcish tribes from the mountains to the west, Tira had managed to forge an unlikely alliance between the Idenek, Indrol, Mihetr, Drila, and even the Jarel cepelrodina to repel an invasion led by the orcish chief, Ggoro Daurog.

Ena was honored.

I saw the world through the eyes of Tira Idenek…

Molmushak had been smaller in the memory; the Idenek family was not as large as it was today. Nevertheless, Ena had felt the great pride Tira experienced as she looked over the city coupled with the indecision over what to do about the orcs. Even now, Ena stood tense, clenching her quills as she relived the agonizing anxiety of her ancient ancestor.

Even the greatest Cepelmatka wavered…

Ena dropped her head to stare at her bare feet, inches from the reed mat.

Yet she made the right decision when she had to, no matter how difficult.

Lifting her head, Ena glanced at her two older sisters.

You are my sisters, and I care for you, but neither of you would have made the correct choice.

Ena eyed Milix.

You would have let the rivals perish simply to gain more power for the Idenek, even though it meant we would perish ourselves one day.

Turning her gaze to Sira, Ena frowned.

You would have known the right thing to do, but would have waited too long, afraid to do what was necessary.

All doubt fled from Ena.

Stepping purposefully to the center of the reed mat, she sat down, quickly assuming the same cross-legged position as her mother and sisters.

I am Idenek. I must be the next Cepelmatka.

The bubble of tension filling the room burst.

In a clear, firm voice, Ena announced, “I, Ena Idenek, third daughter of Patona Idenek, wish to claim my birthright and compete in Bitve Sester.” The words reverberated through the chamber, heavy and serious.

It is done.

A hint of a smile flashed over her mother’s face, so quick that Ena was not sure she saw it or if dim light and heat were playing tricks on her eyes.

For as far back as the ancestral memories ran, Bitve Sester was the manner in which the next Cepelmatka was determined and was preceded by two events. If the current Cepelmatka perished, Bitve Sester was held immediately and included all daughters of age. Otherwise, when the youngest daughter of the Cepelmatka survived Vyza, they must announce their intention to ascend or leave the family forever, renouncing her position as a Daughter. After that, Bitve Sester could commence.

On a date chosen by the Cepelmatka, all eligible daughters who wished to ascend came to the proving grounds and battled. The last one alive would rule beside her mother for a year before taking the position alone.

Many felt the traditions surrounding Bitve Sester was overly brutal and cruel. Others claimed it necessary in order to keep the unquestioned authority of the Cepelmatka in place. Without sisters, there was never a threat to the rule of Cepelmatka. Ena’s own mother had killed her three sisters to take the position. Ena had never heard her speak of it.

Ena waited for her mother to say something, but was disappointed when the Cepelmatka simply nodded as if Ena had announced something mundane like “I believe it might rain tomorrow.”

After a long, uncomfortable moment, Patona turned her left and said, “Stemrik?”

The male kouzelník moved to Patona’s side and kneeled, keeping his arm quills hidden behind his back.

“Yes, Cepelmatka?” muttered Stemrik.

“How long will you need to prepare for Bitve Sester?” asked Ena’s mother.

“I can have the grounds ready by dawn of the day after tomorrow,” replied her mother’s Poradce.

Patona nodded. “That is satisfactory.” She turned back to look at each of her daughters, oldest to youngest. When her eyes settled on Ena and she quietly added, “I wish to finish this as quickly as possible.”

Ena knew this was difficult for her mother. Knowing that your daughters were going to eliminate each other for the greater good of the cepelrodina did not make it easier. She could not imagine having to do the same herself one day.

With a wave of her arm, the Cepelmatka dismissed Stemrik and stood. In a tight, clear voice, she said, “Daughters, I wish each of you luck. I expect you will make me proud.” With those quick words, Patona strode from her mat, heading towards the entryway of the chamber without another look at either of them, even ignoring Sira despite walking right past her. Stemrik followed, also discounting the sisters as he exited. The dozen guards exited last.

The moment they were alone, all three sisters stood. Ena turned to face Sira and Milix, curious to gauge their reaction to her decision. Both stared at her from their respective reed mats. Milix glared furiously, the quills along her shoulders and arms rippling, glinting in the faint light. Ena watched short, angry puffs of warm air exit her nose.

Not unexpected.

A glance at Sira revealed the middle sister with a somber expression on her face mixed with something else. Ena was taken aback as she recognized the other emotion.

Hope? I did not expect that…

Milix hissed and clicked, “You’ve made a severe mistake, Ena! You should have just left, let me kill Sira, and be done with it.”

Ena remained quiet.

You have just proven to me that I made the right choice, sister.

Her eldest sister glared at her for a long moment, obviously hoping for some sort of retaliation, but when none was forthcoming, she huffed and headed for the entryway of the chamber.

Ena watched her leave.

You are not fit to rule, Milix.

Just before exiting, Milix halted, turned, and called out, “Neither of you should have stepped into your circle! Know that I will feel nothing but joy after Bitve Sester.” The cruel, angry words echoed through the room. With one last puff of warm air, Milix spun around and exited the chamber of the Cepelmatka, leaving Ena and Sira alone.

Ena shook her head.

She cannot succeed Mother.

A few quiet moments passed before Sira echoed her thoughts, saying quietly, “I fear for the Idenek should the fates choose her.”

Ena nodded, agreeing, “As do I, sister.” She glanced over at Sira, finding her sister staring at the empty entryway to the chamber.

Sensing Ena’s gaze, Sira turned toward her and studied Ena with the same sad eyes as before. After a moment, Sira asked, “Are you sure you are ready for this, Ena?”

Ena shook her head, admitting the truth. “Am I sure? Not at all.”

The soft quills framing Sira’s black cheeks twitched in amusement. “An honest answer, at least.” The pair shared a small smile.

Turning toward Sira, Ena approached her sister. “What about you, Sira? Are you ready?”

With a definitive shake of her head, Sira said, “I will never be ready, Ena. The idea of facing you…” Sira trailed off and dropped her head.

Ena could sympathize; she did not want to kill Sira, either.

But I will if I must.

Sira sighed, lifted her head, and stepped off her mat to meet Ena between the two circles. In a quiet, restrained voice, she said, “But it is our duty, is it not? Milix cannot be Cepelmatka.”

Ena studied her older sister. “No she cannot. But do you think either of us can best her?”

Sira’s black eyes glanced at Ena for a moment before flicking away. In a quiet voice, Sira said, “I know I cannot. Milix is a natural fighter, better than I could ever hope to become.” Sira stared at the open entryway. “I will certainly perish, Ena.”

Ena frowned, disappointed in Sira that she seemed to already be accepting defeat.

And that attitude is why you cannot be Cepelmatka, either, sister.

Ena suggested, “There is more to being Cepelmatka than who is the best with her quills, Sira.”

Sira shook her head, “True. But Bitve Sester does not test those other qualities.”

As much as she disliked the negative attitude of her sister, Ena had to admit Sira was right. Milix was a better, more vicious fighter than either of them. Perhaps one day, Ena might rival her eldest sister’s skills, but the seven-year difference between Ena and Milix was substantial now. Milix was the oldest and the favorite to win. Most Cepelmatka in the past were the eldest sister for that reason.

Milix cannot win…but neither of us can defeat her.

Ena felt her slipping into a melancholy mood to match Sira when a sudden moment of inspiration intruded on her gloom.

Unless…

Turning to Sira, Ena studied her sister, silently judging her.

Can I trust you, sister?

Feeling Ena’s eyes on her, Sira glanced over. Her eyes narrowed. “What is it, Ena?”

Again, choosing honesty, Ena said, “I am trying to decide if I can trust you.”

A rueful grin spread over Sira’s thin, black lips. “How would you have answered that question the day before finding out mother was sending you Vyza?”

Ena answered immediately. “There would have been no question that I could. Things are different now, though, Sira. We are rivals.”

Sira held her gaze for a long moment, visibly biting on her lip. After a time, she dropped her head and turned away. In a quiet, nearly inaudible voice, she whispered, “Ena, I did not kill my opponent during Vyza.” The words were hushed, but they carried the same shock as if she had screamed them.

Ena stared at her sister’s back, speechless.

Pausing for only a moment, Sira continued in a rush, saying, “Two days after I arrived in the gulley, I happened to be on a ridgeline, hiding in the bushes the entire time, hoping to find a safe vantage point to search for my opponent.” Sira turned around face Ena, shaking her head. “She took me by surprise, Ena, leaping down from a tree overhead. I had no idea she was there – none at all. I was terrified and just as I looked up, she flexed her quills – long, black and scarlet blades – and cried out.” Sira paused, staring at her sister. “I was frozen, Ena. I did not know what to do.” Her eyes went unfocussed and she shook her head. “You should have lost a sister that day.”

Ena could not believe what she was hearing. “Surely you fought back? You returned home – you must have fought back and won…”

Sira shook her head. “No. My opponent erred by showing her quills before being free of the branches of the tree. A blade from her arm dug into the wood, catching and throwing her off balance. She tried to correct her jump, but could not.” In a quiet, ashamed voice, she added, “She twisted around and she fell, bounced off the edge of the cliff and died of her own accord…I did nothing.”

Ena stared at her sister, stunned. If Sira was not a true victor of Vyza, then she should not be permitted to participate in Bitve Sester. Beyond that basic fact, lying about such a thing was a terrible dishonor to the family, and especially their mother.

In a quiet, hissing tone, Ena asked, “Mother does not know, does she?”

Sira replied with a question of her own. “Would I be alive if she did?”

The answer was plain. If anything had threatened the authority of the Cepelmatka, or challenged the family honor, Patona Idenek would have addressed it. Daughter or not, Sira would have disappeared.

Staring at her sister, Ena asked, “Why are you telling me this, Sira?”

In a patient, even tone, Sira explained, “You asked if you could trust me. I am showing that I trust you. Hopefully, that answers your question.”

Frowning, Ena said carefully, “I should turn you in to Mother immediately.”

Sira shrugged and said, “You should.” With confidence, she added, “But you won’t. Doing so gains you nothing.”

Ena agreed, but protested, “You would not be a part of Bitve Sester.”

Nodding, Sira said, “Yes, and most likely killed immediately. But we both know you could best me in battle despite your age, so removing me from Bitve Sester means nothing.” With a pointed tone, she added, “Other than making you the sole focus of Milix.”

Ena had already come to the same conclusion. “You’re right, of course. I won’t tell anyone.”

Sira smiled and said, “I know. I would not have told you unless I was confident of your silence.”

Ena found herself admiring her sister’s bravery and foresight.

You do have some qualities necessary to be Cepelmatka…

“I have another confession, Ena,” said Sira quietly. “I have no desire to follow mother.”

For the second time a matter of minutes, Ena was shocked. “You don’t want to be Cepelmatka?”

“Not at all,” replied Sira.

“Then why did you claim your position before Mother?” asked Ena in disbelief. “You could have left the family and lived.”

Speaking as if the answer was obvious, Sira explained, “Because the idea of Milix leading the family is more terrifying than me being the Cepelmatka. When I had to choose to make my claim or not three years ago, I did not know if you would survive Vyza. And even if you did, how could I know you’d claim your own position?” Staring intently at Ena, she said, “If you had not, I prayed the same luck that had saved me during Vyza might perhaps visit me again during Bitve Sester.”

Ena shook her head, amazed. “Your strategy for Bitve Sester was ‘pray for luck?’”

“What choice did I have?” replied Sira. “I will never best Milix in a fight! Now, you might view this admittance as weakness – I understand that – but it does not make it any less true.” Sira glared at Ena and muttered, “It is not bravery to believe you are something you are not, simply because others expect it, Ena. It is stupidity.”

Ena stared at her sister, recognizing the wisdom behind her words. Sira was doing the best could considering the situation.

Sira continued to hold Ena’s gaze, her eyes boring into her. “You may be the youngest of us, Ena, but you are the best suited to take Mother’s place. I see it – I am sure Mother recognizes it, too, else she would not have sent you to Vyza so early. One day, you will match the strength and skill of Milix – an admitted must for a Cepelmatka. Yet you are smart, careful, and – from what I saw tonight – even somewhat reluctant to take power. All are the marks of any good leader.”

Ena stared; the compliment was unexpected. After a moment, she managed a quiet, “Thank you.”

“I don’t say it to be kind, Ena,” said Sira sharply. She sounded more like their mother for the moment than a sister. “What I am saying is as much a fact as it is that nivakule will rise tomorrow. I would hope you yourself have come to a similar conclusion.”

Ena nodded firmly. “I have.”

“As I expected,” replied Sira with a tight-lipped smile. After a long stare, Sira said, “I believe Mother wishes you to win, Ena. I have watched her closely since you left. She has been unusually anxious, although she would deny showing it. She knows the where the brightest future of the Idenek lies.”

Ena asked, “How can you be sure?”

Shaking her head, Sira said, “She glares at Milix like a snake. And Milix is too blind to see it.” Growing quieter, Sira added, “But she won’t even look at me, Ena. She knows I am dead.” Sira could read others well. It was a quality Ena had recently begun to understand its true value.

Ena believed her sister, but did not know what to say.

Sira glanced at Ena and shook her head. “Unless the Buh of Luck favors me again, I die in two days. You at least have a chance against Milix.” Her sister turned away from her, and walked to stand before one of the large, circular openings, staring into the night. For a long while, neither of them said anything.

Ena thought about everything Sira had said, trying to incorporate it into her plans. A small smile crept over her lips.

This could work even better…

Sira half-turned, her profile illuminated by the light of modramesic, and said, “Are you going to ask me or not?”

“Excuse me?” replied Ena.

Sira smiled. “You wondered if you could trust me or not. The only reason you would say such at thing at this time means you need my help or guidance. Ask me now or I will go – I have less than two days left to live. I do not wish to waste them.”

Ena frowned, still not sure if she should broach the subject.

This is dangerous…

Impatient, Sira said, “Considering you asked me as we were discussing Milix, I must conclude it has something to do with our sister and the Bitve Sester.” Completing her turn to face Ena, Sira gazed at her younger sister. “Correct?”

Ena hesitated.

Sira was weak and timid at times, but she was clever.

She could be useful…

Nodding, Ena said quietly, “As always.”

Sira turned away to stare back out into the night. “I thought so.”

The Cepelmatka knows when to take risks.

Even though everyone had left, Ena glanced around the open room to ensure they were alone. Closing her eyes, she listened carefully, trying to sense any bit of movement nearby. She could hear the sound of Nascepel feet scuffling, but none sounded near enough to worry they might overhear what she was about to say.

Confident they were alone, Ena moved to stand beside Sira. The view of Molmushak was beautiful from this vantage point. The tall towers of the surface were lit brightly by the bluish-white light shining from the sky. The ground below was shrouded in dark shadows cast by the spires, but Ena could still see the warm shapes of Nascepel moving through the pathways between the earthen structures. Various openings in a number of the towers flickered with the visible, yellow light of the cook fires while also radiating a steady, glowing heat. Ena suddenly recalled how hungry she was.

I must get something to eat.

As if on cue, a shift in the gentle breeze blowing through the city suddenly carried with it the hint of root and herb stew. Pushing aside her hunger, Ena said in a hushed voice, “Name the rules of Bitve Sester, Sira.”

Her sister glanced at her, curious. “There are no rules.”

Ena nodded. “Exactly.” Turning to stare at Sira, she said, “I have a proposal for you.”

Sira tilted her head to the side. “So you trust me?”

“I do,” replied Ena.

Sira nodded. “Good. What is your proposal, Ena?”

With a small smile, Ena said, “In two days, Sira, I will win Bitve Sester. And you will help me.”

Sira turned lowly to face her younger sister, her face twitching in anticipation. “I’m listening.”