Chosen Ones
J.J. Polson
(Five parts. 7000 words.)
One | Two | Three | Four | Five
One
Once again, Shanna knelt before her god.
The peculiar man sat upon a throne of shifting colors. His features were hidden beneath an oversized hood, and his eyes locked away behind dark frames. In one hand, he held a sparkling scepter topped by a small, reptilian skull. In arm’s reach of the other a priceless plate bearing bright fruit and a jeweled goblet filled with red wine rested atop a glimmering tray.
Shanna had never learned the man’s name. In fact, she had never seen a depiction of him until the first time she died. His existence had uprooted her polytheistic ancestral faith. If she had learned one thing during her tortured life, there was only one true god – and he was infuriating.
“Please,” she whispered. “I do not want to return.”
The man pursed his lips. “You are my champion. You must prevail.”
Shanna shook her head, tears streaming down her face. She had tried everything to convince her god to allow her soul pass on to the next life – all to no avail. For a time, she had given up asking at all. Silence had only made things worse. With every death, she grew closer to her breaking point. Soon, she would no longer possess the will to go on.
“I can’t,” she sobbed. “You must find another.”
The ornate throne became crimson as her god summoned his rage. “You are the Chosen One!” He slammed his scepter upon the ground, rattling the gilded hall. A thunderous crash arose in the distance as a series of invaluable paintings fell to the floor. “You must prevail!”
Shanna slowly lifted her gaze to the glowing throne. It had been some time since she asked her vengeful god for a favor. She had grown discouraged as none had ever been granted. The man atop the throne was ever confident that his Chosen One would prevail, and that she would do so alone.
“I need help.”
“Help?” the god mused, fingers drumming against his specter. “Why would the Chosen One need help? You have been chosen for a reason after all.”
“Chosen by you,” she replied bitterly.
The man laughed. “Because I know that you can prevail. I have seen it.”
“I don’t believe you. You know nothing of the world outside your hall. You know nothing of the horrors your people face, of the enemy you’ve pitted us against.” Shanna rose to unsteady feet and pointed a shaking finger in the direction of her god. “I am the only one who comes back! My friends, my family – everyone is dead except for me! I want to join them!”
“I have already promised you that. First, however, you must prevail.” Her god twirled a strand of dark hair around his finger, apparently amused. “What would you need to help defeat our enemy? Perhaps an enchanted blade?”
A flaming sword appeared at her feet.
Shanna said nothing.
“No? I thought you loved swords.” The man snapped his fingers and a bow fell atop the sword. “What about a bow with limitless range?” He quickly tried again, this time with a spear. “A spear with a resilient poison coating. A very deadly poison coating.”
Shanna bared her teeth.
“No? Perhaps all three in combination?”
“No weapon will make a difference,” she hissed.
“Why didn’t you say so!” The god’s specter erupted with light and a dozen skeletal warriors rose from the floor of his hall. “How about an army of undead familiars? They are obedient and, most importantly, expendable! No need to ever grow emotionally attached.”
Upon seeing Shanna’s angry expression, the man sighed and dismissed the objects with a wave. “I’m afraid I’m running out of ideas, Chosen One. Perhaps you had something specific in mind?”
“Promise that you’ll consider it.”
The god shook his head. “I am your god. I do not have to promise anything. Speak now, or I will send you back. I grow bored of this conversation. I have plenty of other matters to attend to.”
Shanna took a deep breath. “I want your help. I want you to go back with me.”
For some time, laughter echoed within the gilded hall. When at last the god had his fill, he rose from his throne and descended the dais to stand before the woman.
“A splendid idea, Chosen One,” the man grinned. “Our enemy will never see this coming…”
Two
With a primal scream, Shanna returned to life.
The process never changed. A painful death followed by a trip to the hall of her exasperating god, then an agonizing rebirth. Her resurrections were as much a legend as her prowess upon the battlefield. Her cries assured her tribe that their Chosen One had not yet perished, that their gods had not abandoned them, that hope remained.
Time flowed unevenly during the grim cycle. Oftentimes, Shanna was reborn upon the battlefield, seconds after she had been slain. In other instances, she rose hours or even days later. Her initial resurrection had taken the longest – her body had lain dead nearly a week.
No matter which outcome, she always returned to find her tribe closer to extinction. After countless resurrections, she could no longer bring herself to care about them as individuals, to invest in their hopes and dreams. The pain of loss had become too much to bear.
This time, Shanna awoke in a cave. The foul smell of human waste and death greeted her restored senses as her eyes adjusted to the flickering torchlight.
She instantly realized her location – the last refuge of the Sedna tribe, a sacred site used to house the dead since the dawn of time. The mountain was believed to protect dead spirits from the vengeful gods who sought to prevent passage to the next life.
None stood vigil over her prone body, meaning significant time had elapsed. Fleeing to the caves signified a devastating defeat. Presumably their main settlement had been lost. Taking shelter in the home of the dead was a move of last resort, one Shanna had never wanted to make.
Despite knowing that her body returned in peak physical condition, Shanna instinctively ran a hand over her midsection where a dozen arrows had pierced her tattered armor. As expected, there were no lingering signs of the countless deadly wounds – the only scars carried by the Chosen One of the Sedna tribe were mental.
In the darkness, her anger flared. She had returned alone.
“Where are you?” Shanna shouted, her raw voice echoing throughout the caves. To think, she had actually believed her god would come to her aid. The insufferable coward!
Her voice summoned two armored warriors. Their faded war paint did little to disguise the fact that they were barely of age to hold a blade. They observed her with equally wide eyes. The soft hands holding their spears visibly shook.
They fell to their knees.
“Chosen One,” one of the boys managed. “Our losses were great. When you did not return to us … we did not know where else to go.”
Shanna rose from the stone slab, tightened the straps on her brittle armor, and recovered her blood-covered blade and spear from where they leaned against the stone wall. She did not allow herself to ponder how many had fallen to retrieve her body and weapons. “How long?”
“Two days.”
“How many remain?”
“Twenty Sedna who can fight, Chosen One. There are others … separated in the aftermath of your death. We don’t know if they managed to survive.”
“And the warriors of the Mal tribe?”
“They’ve surrounded the caves. The seals of our ancestors will not hold much longer.”
Shanna bared her teeth in frustration. That craven bastard! He promised me help! Purpose in her step, she marched past the two timid boys and commanded them to follow.
*
There was a reason Shanna continued to fight, that she endured the pain of rebirth. If she did not prevail, the Sedna would be forever wiped from the land. Centuries of history erased. The lives of her ancestors, of her long dead family, lived without meaning.
The Sedna were not a tribe of warriors, but they had not made it easy for their foes. Boasting an army of nearly ten thousand, the Mal tribe had come to conquer their ancestral lands five summers before. Shanna had turned the river valley against them, attacking from the shadows, sabotaging lines of supply, committing to prolonged skirmishes only when absolutely necessary.
The capital had been one such instance. A defendable position the Sedna could not afford to abandon, their last true stronghold. Now, it too had been lost.
The truth had been apparent from the beginning – no help was coming. The Sedna fought alone.
An hour after her rebirth, Shanna emerged into the brilliant light of midday. She leaned against the shaft of her weathered spear and studied their opposition from the peak of the lonely mountain. The two youths kept their distance, eyeing their Chosen One with silent reverence.
Hundreds of Mal warriors spread like a shadow from the mountain’s base, occupying the sunken bed of what had long ago been a raging river. The warriors chanted in time with the rumble of their ceaseless drums. By now, Shanna knew their song to be one of triumph.
A well-armored Mal Warleader accompanied by a pair of shamans battered at the magical barrier sealing the entrance to the tribe’s crypts. It was a spell that had existed well before Shanna had taken her first breath, one of the pillars of her tribe’s flawed fate. Any Sedna could pass through unharmed – all others were denied entry.
“It is weakening, Chosen One,” one of the boys said at last. “The others will not admit it, but it seems that the gods have truly abandoned us.”
Shanna hissed in frustration. The Sedna tribe had indeed been forsaken, but not by the many false gods of the land. No. The Sedna tribe had been abandoned by their true divine ruler, an incompetent and arrogant fool who had never even offered his name.
How can I possibly prevail? she thought bitterly. The Mal had only seen it necessary to bring forth a fraction of their forces. They knew as well as she that the Sedna were finished, that the war between the two tribes had at last reached its brutal end.
“The Sedna shall not perish without a fight,” Shanna proclaimed. “Ready all those that can hold a spear. When the barrier falls, we will ensure these crypts have served their purpose well. The name of our tribe will never be forgotten!”
The youths had come to her side. “Chosen One…”
Shanna followed their gaze as the mountain began to quake.
The Mal had noticed the oddity as well. The sky overhead was clear, eliminating the possibility of a storm. As one, the warriors gathered in the ancient riverbed turned to the east, toward the source of the disturbance. The ceaseless chorus of drums silenced.
What had once been a distant rumble became a deafening roar.
Shanna watched in awe as floodwater breached the horizon, and the river raced forth to reclaim the path it had controlled in the times of old. Like a herd of thundering horses, it crashed upon the Mal, sweeping them away with its natural fury.
The three Sedna warriors watched the spectacular scene of destruction in silence.
Before the water had settled, Shanna raced back through the foul-smelling tunnels, reaching the magical barrier in what seemed a single heartbeat. She exited the mountain tomb, a scowl on her face, mud sloshing beneath her worn boots.
A thin man with dark skin and long, midnight hair leaned against a knobby staff among the wreckage of the Mal encampment. Dark frames concealed his eyes. His fingers tapped rhythmically upon the head of his staff, carved in likeness of a reptilian nightmare, to a song only he could hear.
The man grinned upon noticing Shanna’s approach.
“An impressive entrance, I know,” the god laughed. “Even more so when you realize that your tribe was named after the water gods.”
Shanna narrowed her eyes.
“No need to thank me,” the god mused. His demeanor darkened as he surveyed the members of the tribe who emerged after Shanna. “Is this really all that’s left of you?”
Shanna growled.
“Perhaps you were right after all, Chosen One. You really do need my help.”
Three
“Sixteen warriors,” the god lamented as he led what remained of the Sedna tribe up the muddy riverbed. After a string of mostly unrecognizable curses regarding the abruptly deteriorating value of his boots, the ground now hardened before his every step. “I dare say we’re going to need more. Perhaps a shaman or two while we’re at it…”
True to his infuriating nature, the god had refused to enter the crypts, citing an appalling stench, and forced Shanna to gather the remaining Sedna for a march to a yet to be revealed destination. Then, he had promptly declared the survivors unfit company and commanded Shanna to join him a dozen paces upwind of the tribe.
“… I should have saved some of the river water,” he continued. “It seems that every one of my remaining Sedna need a bath. Chosen One, do you possess any soap?”
Shanna scowled. If he had been an ordinary man, she would have long since driven her spear through his heart. “You must explain to them what has happened.”
“I disagree. I am your god. The actions of the divine do not need explaining.”
“The Sedna believe in the spirits of the land, in those of our ancestors,” Shanna explained flatly. “Only I have any idea that you exist at all.”
The god came to a sudden halt. “Are you serious? I’m positive that I included myself in your religion as the father of all such spirits. Does the Divine One mean nothing to you?” He raised a brow above the edge of his dark frames. “Well then. We will have to rectify this injustice before going any further.”
Shanna watched through narrow eyes as the god poked the ground with his staff and mud twisted upward to form a dark throne. The god ran a finger across the seat, frowned, then tapped the staff against the makeshift throne and turned it to stone. Bearing a bemused smile, he took a seat and waited until the rest of the Sedna reached their position.
“Sedna!” the god decreed from atop his makeshift throne. “I am Seddick, the Divine One, your one true god, father of all spirits, and author of creation itself. I have come to assist the Chosen One in defeating the vile Mal tribe and restoring your tribe’s former glory.”
Shanna withheld a smile when the Sedna made no response. Her people knew a fool when they saw one. Their allegiance was not so easily won.
The god was unperturbed. “It was by my hand that the river returned to save you in your darkest hour, and that was only my first righteous act. I will only return to my hall once we have forever rid ourselves of those Mal miscreants!”
Cheers rose from the group of haggard warriors. Dulled spears thumped against battered shields. The oldest members of the tribe whistled through toothless mouths.
“Chosen One,” Seddick called.
Shanna approached the throne, barely containing her fury.
“Where is the nearest of my other tribes?”
“Your … other tribes?”
“The Sed are all my creations,” the god explained. “I’m going to unite them.”
“We are not on good terms.”
Seddick shrugged. “And? I am their god. They will obey me.”
“What about the Mal? Wouldn’t they be your subjects as well, father of all creation?”
“A slight exaggeration, Chosen One. You know, I really don’t appreciate your tone – especially when I am only trying to keep my promise to help you,” Seddick replied.
“Then kill me and pick another Chosen One.”
“No. You are my Chosen One for good reason.” The god paused to adjust his dark frames. “If you must know, the Mal were created by a far worse god than me.”
“That’s hard to believe.”
“Believe it! Malina is a self-centered bitch who seeks only to satisfy her own desires. If I ever see her hideous face again, it will be too soon!”
*
Aroldis approached his goddess with a heavy heart. As he knelt, his cape billowed about him, a flawless shade of white which perfectly accentuated his ornate armor. At the same time, a flirtatious gust of summer wind swept through the open-air villa to toy with his lengthy dark hair.
“I have failed you, Lady Malina,” the warrior said somberly. “You must choose another.”
The goddess turned from her book to study him from where she lounged upon a couch of silk. A thin, white robe clung to her fit body. Curling locks of auburn hair fell in waves to the marble floor. Her hand clutched the symbol of her station, a polished specter topped by a jeweled sun.
She was imposing, frightening … and beautiful. Aroldis cursed his desires. He did not deserve the attention of such a majestic woman, let alone her affection.
“You are my Chosen One, Aroldis,” the goddess said at last, returning her attention to the leather-bound volume hovering before her. “Why do you wish to recuse yourself from my service?”
“Because I have failed you yet again. I no longer deserve to be your champion.”
Malina sighed. “What happened this time?”
“We had the last of the Sedna trapped in their ancestral tomb. As we worked to break their enchanted barrier, the river gods returned to defend them. Hundreds of our warriors perished.”
“We’ve gone over this before, Chosen One. There are no river gods.”
Aroldis pressed his hands together, bowed his head low. “I saw one, Lady Malina. He rode atop the waters and bore the head of river-monster. Skin as green as an emerald. Teeth as long as a man’s arm. The very water itself bent to his will.”
“You saw him?” the goddess repeated skeptically. “Tell me, Chosen One, did this river god assault your forces from the east?”
Aroldis nodded. “Yes, Lady Malina.”
“And were all the Sedna trapped within their mountain?”
“Well … no. A small band of warriors were separated from the main host when we claimed the capital. We tried to track them through the valley, but they know the land much better than we do. It is the only reason the Sedna have survived this long.”
“The river above the Sedna’s precious mountain was dammed centuries ago. You walked directly into the trap set by these separated Sedna warriors. While clever, no worthwhile god would choose such a tactic.”
“Regardless. I have failed, Lady Malina. I do not deserve to be your champion.”
The goddess sighed once again. “This was only a temporary setback. Return to your Warleaders and summon every spear. Soon, you will meet what remains of the Sed in sight of the Great Sea. It is there that I have seen your eventual triumph, my Chosen One.”
“As you say, Lady Malina,” Aroldis replied. He could never refuse his goddess.
The goddess closed her floating book and raised her brow. “Why are you still wearing your armor, Chosen One? You know the requirements to return…”
*
Aroldis awoke to silence, lying face first in mud. He pushed himself free using his muscular arms and surveyed his bleak surroundings. Concluding he was the lone survivor, Aroldis set a course for the Mal encampment, not bothering to conceal his nudity. He could not afford to waste time.
He was the Chosen One, and he would prevail.
Four
Shanna despised her god.
So much so that on the third day of their journey, she assumed the duty of rearguard. Her fiery expression dismissed all potential questions from the remaining Sedna. Just because their god had returned did not mean her people were saved. There was no guarantee that he would not abandon them once again, that she would ever earn the right to move on to the next life.
How can the Sedna possibly prevail? We are all but finished!
“Good call, Chosen One,” Seddick mused, appearing by her side. “The shift in wind direction had summoned a most unpleasant odor.”
Shanna growled. “We are in Sedno territory. You said you would protect us from ambush.”
“And you believe that I cannot do that and converse with my Chosen One at the same time,” the god concluded. “Why must you constantly underestimate me?”
“Do you desire the truth?”
“Of course. Otherwise, I wouldn’t bother to ask the question.”
Shanna glared at the man. “You abandoned us. Thousands of Sedna died while you sat in your hall and played with your treasurers. You are a child!”
“That’s all in the past now, Chosen One. I have returned to save my people … well, what’s left of them anyway.”
“Do you honestly believe the Sedno will follow you? It has been many generations since the split of the Sed people. There is a reason they have not come to our aid.”
Seddick adjusted the frames guarding his eyes. “Ah, I see you have yet to consider what the Mal tribe planned to do after they finished off the Sedna.”
“And what is that?”
“Why, attack the Sedno of course. Then presumably move inland, terrorizing each family until they reached the Sed-fisherman on the beaches of the Great Sea. This sort of ignorance is what I get for splitting my people I suppose. Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“You are responsible for the division?”
“Well, it certainly wasn’t the tree spirits,” Seddick chuckled, tapping on the lizard-head of his wooden staff. “Sometimes, members of a family need their space. Not to mention that I hoped one of the tribes would assert themselves and conquer the rest of this bloody continent after centuries of uninteresting peace. Alas, I presume too much…”
Shanna suffocated the shaft of her spear.
“Come to think of it, Chosen One. The Sedna should have been the one to expand my holdings. Your tribe had by far the most members and controlled the largest portion of land, including the border with our enemies. You should have taken out the Mal tribe long ago. What were you waiting on?”
“The Sedna are not warriors,” Shanna replied flatly.
“Ah. That’s right. Now I remember why I had to split the Sed apart. Peace leads to complacency. Go without fighting too long, and you forget how.” The god scratched his chin in thought. “So, I presume the Mal started this conflict. How did it happen? Just the important points please.”
Shanna bared her teeth, dismissing memories best left forgotten. “There was a dispute at the border. Two champions were chosen to settle it. Every Warleader of both tribes was in attendance. The Mal champion was defeated but killed the Sedna champion once he had turned his back.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand, Chosen One. Was it not a duel to the death?”
“No.”
“Then why bother?” The god sighed. “Nevermind. Continue.”
“There was a battle between the attending Warleaders over the result of the duel. The Sedna were not victorious. All in attendance were slain, throwing the entire tribe into disarray.”
The god hummed. “Sounds like a lot of detail for an incident with no surviving witnesses on our side.”
“I was there,” Shanna hissed. “I was one of the slain Warleaders.”
“Ah, that does sound vaguely familiar. I certainly remember your soul passing through my hall for that was when I saw your eventual triumph, when I knew you were the Chosen One. When was that in your time? A few months ago?”
“Nearly six years ago.”
Seddick tilted his head to the side in apparent disbelief. “I suppose I did not see when you were destined to prevail. Alas, the art of divination is not the greatest of my divine skills. There’s something about predicting what is to come that…”
The god trailed off as the first Sedno emerged from the underbrush. In what seemed seconds, the Sedna were surrounded by a hundred warriors. The Warleader of the Sedno, an imposing woman with eagle feathers strung throughout her dark hair, appeared a moment later. At her sharp whistle, ten Sedna prisoners were brought forth.
Shanna tossed aside her weapons at a harsh Sedno command. “So much for protecting us.”
“You really must stop doubting me, Chosen One.”
With a wry grin, Seddick pushed through the herd of Sedna using his old staff and approached the Sedno Warleader. Another group of Sedno emerged from the forest to surround the god just before he reached her. A dozen sharpened spears settled inches from his flesh.
“Do you speak for these Sedna?” the Sedno Warleader asked. “Have you come to retrieve your warriors, or have you come seeking to contest our claim to these lands? Speak true. The Divine One is always watching.”
“The Divine One?” Seddick asked.
“The father of the spirits that rule this land.”
The god cleared his throat. “Put your weapons away, children. I hate feeling pressured.”
The Sedno did not lower their spears.
“Fine. Fine. If you must know, I am Seddick … the Divine One. I have returned to reunite the Sed against the Mal. I’m certain you’ve heard from your prisoners about the happenings in the valley below.” The god turned and gestured to the ragged band of Sedna. “These are all the Sedna that remain. I seek to reunite the Sed people and deny victory to our opposition.”
The Sedno Warleader frowned. “Do you have any proof of this claim?”
Seddick lowered the frames concealing his eyes. “Look upon me, Warleader. See the truth for yourself.”
The woman leaned toward the god so that their faces were inches apart. A moment later, she pulled away and fell to her knees.
“Divine One,” the Sedno Warleader replied, gasping for air. “Our spears are forever yours.”
*
Aroldis was the Chosen One, and he would prevail.
But at what cost?
The Chosen One’s expression darkened as he neared the large settlement that had served as the capital of the Sedna tribe. Smoke lingered above the cluster of wood and clay structures beyond the palisade. A humid wind brought forth the sickening smell of charred flesh.
Once again, his failure had resulted in grim consequences.
The Mal tribe had once been a society built upon honor. The warriors of each clan had honored the spirits of the land and sky and the goddess that created all. They had been allies with the neighboring Sedna. Together, the two tribes had prospered.
Then, Aroldis had failed.
A dispute over land that was to be settled in ritual combat. Aroldis had been chosen to represent the Mal, to defend the honor of Lady Malina before the Warleaders of both tribes. The fight had been to the death, and he had been defeated … or so he had believed.
He had awoken in the hall of Lady Malina. There, the goddess had revealed the treachery of the Sedna. The duel had been a ruse, a plot by the Sedna to destroy the leadership of the Mal tribe and lay claim to their vast lands. The Mal Warleaders were soon to be fighting for their lives.
The goddess had anointed Aroldis as her Chosen One, a champion to save her people from ruin. He had risen from his first death and killed his opponent from the false-duel. However, before he managed to warn the Warleaders, he had been slain again.
Another failure. A more costly one. Upon his second resurrection, Aroldis had slain what Sedna remained. Every Mal Warleader had already perished.
I was supposed to stop this from happening. Now, only I can return this land to peace.
Aroldis marched through the soiled streets in silence. The Mal had ransacked the homes of their foes, adding to their already burdensome spoils. Anything without obvious value had been broken and thrown into the streets. Heads of the fallen and those who failed to escape the settlement had been mounted atop pikes and arranged in a haunting display before a central pyre.
Staring at the smoldering mass of humanity, Aroldis hung his head. He had failed his people yet again. Just as they had so long ago, the Sedna had tricked the Mal. A great victory all but negated by a crushing defeat. Another step taken toward becoming the evil they sought to destroy.
The Chosen One clenched his fist in anger. The Mal were his responsibility.
He had to save them.
*
Warleader Cora, the strongest of those surviving, bowed as Aroldis entered the great hall. Atop an oaken table in the center of the cavernous chamber, a feast of meat and fruit had been piled. The other Warleaders lounged in chairs, drunk on the Sedna’s stores of wine and ale.
“Chosen One, you have returned. Do not fear, your armor and weapon were retrieved. Lady Malina would not allow them to be lost. It seems you retain her favor despite your costly defeat.”
Aroldis observed Cora with cold eyes as attendants wrapped his unscathed body in fresh clothing. The other Warleaders had paused their gluttony to observe the exchange. He saw the truth in their eyes, the darkness that grew like a cancer inside their hearts. They had lost the meaning of what it meant to be a noble warrior of the Lady Malina.
This war has robbed us of our identity. It is my duty to restore it.
“I forbade the sack of this settlement,” Aroldis stated bluntly. “The battle was won. This place and its land held great value to the future of our tribe.”
Cora narrowed his dark eyes. “Who am I to deny our warriors their spoils, Chosen One? It is their divine right! The Sedna are nothing more than dishonorable savages.”
“And we have become no better, Warleader.”
Cora reluctantly bowed his head. “I meant no offense.”
“There are consequences to actions, Warleader. You have defied my direct order for the last time.” Aroldis extended his hand and retrieved his blade from the nearest attendant.
The Chosen One swiftly delivered his judgement. He kicked Cora’s severed head toward the stunned Warleaders and stepped forward with purpose.
“Let this be a lesson!” Aroldis shouted. “Our goddess has tasked us with ridding this land of the treacherous Sedna. We must not allow ourselves to become the evil we seek to destroy.”
Slowly, the Warleaders regained their feet.
“What are your orders, Chosen One?” one asked.
“Lady Malina has informed me that the remnants of the Sed people will gather on the coast. We march to our final battle. In sight of the Great Sea, we will prevail.”
Five
Outfitted in his ornate armor, Aroldis led the Mal east at a blistering pace.
He left them no time to loot the abandoned villages of the Sed, to search for their undoubtedly hidden treasures. The execution of the arrogant Warleader Cora had yielded the desired effect. Aroldis could only hope that he had not acted too late, that the rot present in Warleader Cora had not seeped into the souls of the others.
Aroldis cared not of the damage he had done to his own soul by taking the life of his kin. He was the Chosen One of Lady Malina. He would not allow darkness to claim his people, to destroy the values that allowed the Mal to flourish.
There was now light at the end of the tunnel. A final battle with the treacherous Sed, then his warriors could return home to see their families, to see their children, to remember who they once were.
This is the only way I can save them, Aroldis thought as the Mal marched the twisting forest paths leading toward the coast. Not only have I been chosen to lead us to victory, I have been chosen to bear our sins, to shield the others against the evils of war…
Aroldis had already made his decision. After the battle, he would guide the Mal home to prevent lingering temptations from being realized, to ensure their noble lives were restored. Then, he would disappear. His purpose would at last be fulfilled.
The tracks of the Sedna were easy to follow. It was clear they had joined with the remnants of their kin who lived outside the river valley. The heavy trails of wagon wheels led directly toward the Great Sea. Soon, the smell of salt would fill the air. Aroldis planned to rest the night before the final confrontation, then lead his people to a last great triumph as the sun rose.
“Chosen One.”
Aroldis turned to find a Warleader standing beside him. The others had gathered behind the man to listen to the exchange. At Aroldis’ wordless command, the drums ordered a temporary reprieve.
“Yes, Warleader Heron?”
“We’ve heard that it was the river gods themselves that defended the Sedna. How are we supposed to prevail against such power? Numbers do not matter when facing gods.”
Aroldis placed a reassuring hand on the young man’s shoulder. “An illusion, Warleader. There are no gods protecting the Sedna. There is only Lady Malina, and she has assured our victory.”
*
Shanna stood on the shore of the Great Sea. Wet sand coated her blistered feet, the gentle waves providing only occasional relief. The march to the Great Sea had been grueling. What was to come would be even more so.
“So this is where you’ve gotten to, Chosen One,” Seddick mused as he approached. The god came to a stop beside her and leaned against his wood staff. Even in the darkness, he did not remove the frames shielding his eyes. “Do you not wish to partake in the celebratory feast?”
It was the first time in days the god had spoken to her. Seddick had taken a liking to the brigade of Warleaders recruited along their trek, to the way they looked at him with unquestioning admiration. In fact, every Sed sought to please the infuriating man. They were powerless against him, blind to his true nature.
“They are no longer my people,” Shanna explained, not bothering to divert her eyes from the waves and the unknown worlds beyond them. “Everyone I cared about is long dead. The Sed now belong to you.”
“Come now, Chosen One. We are all one family. Join us! Drink! Feast! Find a willing man or woman!”
“No.”
The god sighed. “Are you really still mad at me? I’m only trying to help.”
“It is because of you that things have reached this point!” Shanna snapped. “Ever since becoming your Chosen One, all I’ve done is watch my people die. We never stood a chance at defeating the Mal. I’ve spent the last six years fighting a losing war. Yet, even when I begged you to let me move on, to choose another to fight in my place, you refused!”
“Why didn’t you tell me what was really happening on this world?”
“I did. Many times. You only saw fit to help my people as we made our last stand among the bones of our ancestors.”
“It is clear that I made a mistake, Chosen One. For that I apologize.”
Incredulous, Shanna faced her god. “You … apologize? I don’t desire a meaningless apology. You may have deceived the others with your charm, but you cannot deceive me.”
“Have I shown you my eyes?”
Shanna growled. “Leave me alone.”
“Not yet,” the god replied. “I do feel rather bad about this whole ordeal. I have many responsibilities on many worlds. I have a tendency to neglect some of my children.”
Wordlessly, Shanna returned her stern gaze to the Great Sea.
“What do you desire, Chosen One? Can’t I make this up to you somehow?”
Shanna licked her lips, studied the great wooden ship floating atop the dark water. She had watched from a distance as the god constructed it in less than half a day. “You never told me that you planned to reunite the Sed in order to run away, that you never intended to fight at all.”
“I’m afraid some battles can’t be won, Chosen One.”
“Then why continue to insist that I will prevail? Why not just tell me the truth?”
“As I’ve said before, gods don’t need to explain their actions.” Seddick paused, then seemed to stumble into a rare moment of self-reflection. “Fine. The truth then. Chosen One. Prevail. Those are just generic words I use to motivate the souls of great warriors that pass through my hall. They don’t actually mean anything to me. It is the warriors who assign their worth.”
Tears begin to fall from Shanna’s eyes. It was a truth she had long known but never been willing to accept. “Then why bring me back? Why force me to suffer?”
“To put it simply, I thought you would figure out a solution. I didn’t realize how bad the problem was. I … didn’t listen to you. For that I am sorry, Chosen One.”
“And now you’re just going to flee and leave this conflict behind,” Shanna mused bitterly, “You’re going to take the Sed and start over somewhere else. Are you even going to honor your word to me, will you ever let me leave this place?”
“Of course, Chosen One. I have brought you back a final time. I would like for you to join your people in their new home. I have already secured a location where you are sure to prosper like the days of old. You’ve earned the right to lead them.”
Shanna shook her head. “I am meant to die here.”
The god tapped the reptilian-head of his staff in thought. After a long moment, he spoke.
“I understand.”
*
As dawn broke, Aroldis stood before the Mal army.
Ahead, the land sloped gradually downward and the edge of the forest devolved into a strip of golden sand. Beyond the beach, the Great Sea stretched for eternity. An eerie silence claimed the salty air as the world awaited the battle to come.
Yet, where there should have been an army of Sed, there was only one warrior.
Aroldis raised his hand, and the beat of the drums slowed. White cape billowing, he turned to his Warleaders and issued a series of commands. Then, he marched toward the lone figure standing on the sand, a hand on the hilt of his blade.
To his surprise, it was a woman. Tall and dark skinned with a face coated in white warpaint resembling a razor-toothed lizard. Her leather armor was patched together, and her weapons were dulled beyond repair. She regarded him through dark eyes filled with purpose.
Aroldis drew his blade. “You seek to ambush us once again. Do you truly have so little honor?”
The woman tapped her fingers against the shaft of her spear and smiled. “I am all that is left.”
“Your trail suggested at least two hundred.”
The woman ignored the comment, her fingers continuing to play their song. “I recognize you from the mountain, Warleader. You should be long dead.”
Aroldis narrowed his eyes. “And I recognize you. You are the Ghost of the Sedna. The woman who cannot die.”
“It seems we have that in common, Chosen One.” The woman chuckled at his resulting expression. “Has the Lady Malina told you the truth yet? How she has twisted you to her will?”
Aroldis spat at the woman’s feet. “You know nothing of my goddess, of my people! Here, their honor will at last be restored! Here, the Mal will finally prevail!”
The Sedna woman nodded, her fingers drumming faster and faster. “Of that, I have no doubt. However, I will not make it easy for you. You see, I am a Chosen One as well.”
Her fingers ceased their movement. The ground began to quake.
Aroldis stepped back as an army of the dead rose from the sand. In seconds, hundreds of skeletal warriors equipped with rusted armor and wielding ancient weapons stood before him. Above their eternal grins, bright light swirled in empty eye sockets.
“What evil is this?” Aroldis gasped. He managed to raise his free hand into the air, commanding the Mal to storm the beach. The pace of the distant drums began a rapid ascent. With a roar, the Warleaders led the Mal into battle.
The Sedna woman was unfazed. She slammed the blunt end of her spear into the ground. White flames encased its blade. Her eyes became radiant as glowing armor sheathed her body.
“This is not evil. It is mercy,” she said. “I hope one day that you too are set free.”
Before Aroldis could react, the woman drove her flaming spear through his heart.