Chapter 2

Night settled on the battlefield like a looming shadow — quenching its thirst of the blood spilled deep within the charred ground. Bodies that hadn't been picked clean from scavengers, were piled up and burned. Thurucaln and Xhaian alike, everything burned, filling the darkness with foul smelling smoke.

The Xhaian army gathered, lighting torches, whispering prayers for the lives lost, anxiously looking toward the general's tent for their leader to appear and begin the victory harvest.

Shyana combed out her crimson hair, noticing a bloodstain that lingered on her neck, a remnant of one of the many lives she'd taken that day. Her eyes narrowed and she licked the tips of her fingers, attempting to wash it away with little success. The red smeared across her fair skin instead of vanishing and it bothered her more than she cared to admit.

Akiem cleared his throat before entering her tent. "It's time; your men are gathered."

Shyana stared at herself in the mirror, memorizing the creature she'd become. "This is the worst part of war."

"When the fighting is done? Is peace really that awful for you?"

Shyana rolled her eyes at him. "No, but public speaking is. Many of the people in my army have lost someone today. I never know what to say to that. How do I address those who must carry on? You're better at this kind of thing than I am, you always have been."

He nodded and took her hand to help her stand, before patting it in the way only Akiem could. "Yes, but it's not me they need to hear from right now. The words of an advisor pale in comparison to a general's. You're the one who led from the front, you are the symbol they need to keep the fire within them alive. It's your task to ease the pain of what they've lost and if it helps, I'll be standing right beside you as you do it."

Her fingers squeezed his once before she straightened her back and cracked her neck. "All right, let's go."

When the flaps of the tent parted, all eyes shot up, as silence overtook the waiting crowd. Shyana scanned the army, taking in the various injuries, the weary eyes. She calmed the swirling wave of anxiety churning in her stomach and addressed them with a proud voice. "Mighty brothers, loyal sisters, I stand before you on a night of blood. Many have lost their lives…"

Her attention went to Liram, who was trying his hardest to keep her cool gaze.

"But we do not mourn them. It is the sacrifice we all understood when we set foot on the battlefield. Though we feel their loss, we rejoice in the knowledge that they are in Xhaia's arms now. There will be a time to grieve, but it is not this night. Tonight, the fires burn for the victorious. Tonight, we will celebrate another battle won for Xhaia!"

"For Xhaia!" A mutual cry escaped the masses as her words filled them with new energy. Shyana's eyes were alight with a primal strength, as she slammed her fist against her chest and raised it in the air. "So, drink down the Leup, breathe deep the air you fought to keep and rejoice for another red dawn. For Xhaia!"

"For Xhaia! For Xhaia!"

The chant echoed into the night air, vibrating the trees around them and the dirt beneath their feet, until a particularly plucky young woman stood high on a barrel of wine, her blonde hair pulled back in a wooden clasp. "For General Makea!"

Shyana's eyebrows rose when the chant slowly melted to her name. "Makea! Makea! Makea!"

She turned to face her advisor who smiled, pride melting through his normally amused grin. A confused line formed on her forehead. "Is this right?"

He shrugged. "They know where their loyalties lie. This victory is as much yours as it is Xhaia's. Enjoy the night."

Brushing back her silly cape, Shyana leapt down from the tent's platform, causing cheers to erupt from her army. A giant fire had been built in the middle of the circle of the burning piles of bodies. It was to represent that no matter how close each of them were to death, life burned brighter still.

Shyana grabbed a cup of Leup from one of her soldiers and melted her way through the crowd. She took a deep gulp, held the chalice above her head and cried. "Music!"

The small band of instruments hidden behind the tents emerged, much to her army's delight and began the melody of victory. Though moments ago, it appeared as though they were ragged, when the beat sounded, Xhaia heeded. A driving, hypnotic pulse swept the camp, muscles tightened, blood pounded and hearts to came alive in its wake.

For as much as battle was about death, it taught them to fully appreciate life as well.

Shyana wove her way through the dancers and settled on the borders, where the firelight wouldn't take her night vision from her. It wasn't unthinkable for the Thurucalns to attack during the festivities; nothing was off limits to their cruelty. She'd watch through the night while her army rejoiced, as was the responsibility of their leader.

The trees swayed with the soot-filled breeze, shadows appeared against their trunks and Shyana's mind returned to the soulless beasts she had recalled hours ago.

She'd barely caught a glimpse of the man, if that's what he could have been called, before she'd been shooed away to safe keeping. She remembered the gaping holes where his eyes once sat, the trail of blood dripping from them like two waterfalls of agony. The way he swayed and buckled, fingers constantly groping the air for fresh meat, stayed in her nightmares for the rest of her life, seizing her imagination at the most ill-opportune of times.

Taking a breath, her hand gripped the hilt of her weapon and held it steady at her side. Let them come; she had no fear of the things that lurked in the darkness.

Still, the questions which vexed her returned. Why were the Thurucalns setting up so close to the Fepican Forest? What motivation would they have in a place where creatures like that roamed?

Her eyes turned back to the unscathed borders of the battlefield; there was one person who would know.

Stepping out so that her voice wouldn't be heard by any in the camp, Shyana placed her scarred hand on a large meloc tree. Though he may not answer her, the forest walker Revarian, would hear her plea.

She hadn't seen the mysterious man in two winters; not since she'd escorted him to speak to the court for the protection of fifty acres of dying wood. Her backing was enough for the Queen to consider his request and grant the ancient being his peace. In gratitude for her assistance, Revarian taught her how to speak through the trees, in case she ever needed to reach him to return the favor.

Everything in the forest was connected, every root, every burr, and if you knew how to call, it would answer. Shyana slowed her heart and softly wedged her fingers between the grooves of the silver bark.

Her normally commanding voice softened, like the gentle caress of a summer's breeze, as she whispered one single name. "Revarian."

That was all it took.

If she were successful and remembered her lesson, the tree would feel her intentions and pass them along to the name spoken. It wasn't a foolproof way of communication, but it would get his attention and hopefully send him looking for her.

Shyana patted the sturdy tree once more and leaned against its support, listening with a smile as cries of celebration filled the night sky.

She stood with her back to them, arms crossed, one finger tapping to the driving beat.

"There you are. I was wondering where you'd escaped to." Akiem's voice startled her as his hand cuffed her shoulder.

Shyana's eyes didn't leave the tree line. "Here I am."

"Why are you standing out here like a spector?"

"Why aren't you dancing with the rest? I know there are some healthy young maidens in my army who would love to press themselves against you."

He studied her face as she tipped it to the side, where a group of about three or four ladies were watching him with thinly veiled desire. He smiled and waved at them. "In time, but right now, I believe I'm not the only one who isn't celebrating the way she should."

A faint smile dared to pull at the general's face. "I have to keep watch. You go ahead."

He stepped closer to his dearest friend, taking her hand into his own and pulling her ear to his lips. "The lookouts have it covered. Come, rejoice in your life. How long has it been since you danced, General Makea?"

Though she wanted to keep up her battle worn exterior, Shyana found herself smiling and allowed her advisor to lead her to the circle, which automatically parted for them.

Akiem released her hand and assumed position, while Shyana bowed to him. To the naked eye it seemed as though they were preparing to duel; in reality, that's what dancing was to the Xhaian people.

Every move was fluid- a fight slowed to the trance-like beat, that both members knew well. Their movements were liquid, Shyana dipping low and extending her toned leg, prompting Akiem to step over it smoothly.

Around them, other couples executed the same moves though lacking the precise grace their general had acquired over years of training. A few injured men chanted a low chorus in time with drums, which kept the constant beat.

Akiem shot out a swift punch, inspiring Shyana to spin on her right foot and twist down the length of his body. The fire roared when more wood was flung into it, a shower of sparks raining upon the dancing couples.

"Different from how we learned at court, isn't it?" Akiem teased, spinning her away from him.

"Oh, not all that different. A bit more fun, a lot less deadly, if you ask me."

Their shadows rose and fell with the flickering light as Shyana's hands went to the ground, her legs scissoring at her partner, which he caught with one hand.

Though he wasn't nearly as skilled of a fighter as she, the dance required him to look the part, so Akiem threw her legs to the side and pulled Shyana up by her right arm.

The general moved with a feline grace, twisting like a ribbon when she circled her body and pushed off Akiem's chest. He grabbed her hand and spun her into himself, as the beat ended and both dancers lingered in each other's arms, panting with the rhythm which still moved within them.

Akiem smiled and pulled Shyana in a little closer to himself, her fingers trailing along the lines of his triceps. "Hm, maybe not all that less deadly, after all."

They both released a soft chuckle, until suddenly a guard named Pri, who was more muscle-bound than most men in Xhaia, approached the sweaty general. His lips went to her ear as he spoke quickly. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but the spy is ready to talk, ma'am. He's been mumbling to himself for hours now."

She broke away from Akiem and smoothed her hair back, her time of enjoyment passed. "Understood."

The music started up again, but faded away when they all walked towards the tent where the Thurucaln was held for the past six hours.

Shyana composed herself before stepping through the tent's door, where it was dark, save one flickering candle. Dehn sat tied to a post, his long hair spilling over his shoulders, attempting to hide his face from her scrutiny.

She stepped closer to the spy, her voice low. "How are you feeling Dehn?"

He startled, as if not sensing her presence until that moment, though his chanting didn't stop. Shyana grabbed a bucket from the edge of the tent, flipped it over and seated herself, waving off her guard who was quick to punish him for not answering her.

She laced her elegant fingers into a bridge and rested her chin on them. "I believe we had this conversation already about my not liking to repeat myself. When I ask a question, I expect an answer, understood?"

The chanting stopped long enough for him to nod, before the quiet beat returned. Shyana rolled her shoulders. "So, what is that lovely verse you keep repeating? I'm sure we'd all love to hear it."

"I'm praying. It's a prayer from my people... for courage."

Shyana smiled. "And what would require courage? Are you frightened of us Dehn? Have my guards been misbehaving in my absence?"

He shook his head, still hiding his eyes from her. The general sighed. "Now this isn't a very stimulating conversation. I prefer to have people look at me when I speak to them."

Her hand reached out, causing her guards to automatically tense, in case he were to break free and attack. She shook her head at them, before placing that hand on the trembling boy's shoulder. He recoiled at her touch, but found no room to escape with the tent wall.

Just as she did with each prisoner, Shyana carefully considered the best approach for extracting information from that person. Each one was different; some reacted to pain, others pride, but she had the distinct feeling neither would be beneficial for the spy before her who had just become a man by Xhaian standards.

From what she knew of Thurucaln culture, and she knew more than most, he would have been considered a man when he had seen eight summers and permanently left his mother. This of course resulted in psychological scars and the inability to understand feminine attributes, a fact she thoroughly intended to exploit.

She gently raised her hand from his shoulder and brushed away the curtain of black hair to reveal the sweating face, handsome in its own savage way. Her eyes stayed on him, though her orders were directed towards her head guard. "Bring some water from the pitcher in my tent and a wash cloth."

He bowed and left to retrieve those items while Shyana smiled gently. "It's a very warm night and it's smoldering in this tent, don't you think?"

Though it was clear he didn't want to answer her, he knew pain would be quick to follow if he didn't, so Dehn gave a curt nod.

The guard returned and gave her the requested supplies. Shyana dipped the cloth into the fresh water. "I can't untie you just yet, but let me try and cool you down a bit before we talk some more."

She raised the soaked cloth and wrung it above his head so the chilled water dripped down on him.

Humming softly to herself, Shyana dabbed at the scrapes on his shoulders, rewetting the cloth occasionally. It was clear that Dehn was upset with the action, but found he could do nothing with the position he was tied in. He had to allow the filthy Xhaian to touch him, even if it did feel much better to be cooled down.

One of her newer guards watched with disgust and let out a scoff, when she caressed the spy's face in her hand, washing away the dirt that collected in his wounds.

Stories of General Makea's victories were legendary. He'd grown up sitting outside one of the taverns, listening to the old timer's talk about how she walked through rivers of blood and left nothing but victory in her wake. There were even times he'd pretended to be her in his youth, with a large stick as her sword and her famous sneer on his face as he cut through imaginary Thurucalns.

He was barely able to contain himself when he finally was old enough to join her ranks and see his hero in action. Pampering a prisoner of war didn't seem like the thing legends were made of.

Her advisor flinched at the noise he'd made and motioned him to step out the tent with the other guard. When they didn't move, General Makea gave a suggestion which clearly was an order. "Gentlemen, why don't you go check the perimeter? I want a little privacy with Dehn."

The older of the two guards quickly saluted, grabbing the younger, more questioning man with him. When they were far enough from the tent, he released his charge and smacked him across the back of his head. "Next time there is an interrogation going on, keep your noises to yourself, runt."

The newer guard turned to Akiem and rubbed his throbbing head. "Why is she treating him like that? I don't understand; if he is our enemy, why is she babying him? She's gentler with him than she is with her own men."

Akiem's normally warm smile became dark. "There are many different kinds of interrogation, son. Trust me, General Makea knows her craft well."

In the tent, Shyana continued her soft humming as she proceeded to clean out the nasty cut on Dehn's chest.

His gaze stayed on the floor, refusing to look at her, but he didn't miss the way her delicate hand rested on his shoulder as she dabbed at his wounds or that if he closed his eyes, her voice sounded like what he remembered of his mother.

"Now let's see what we can't do about that face." She mused before placing a tender hand under his chin. He allowed her to raise it, but kept his eyes elsewhere, releasing a sigh from the general. "You can't seem to look at me. Am I really that frightening to you? I've never known Thurucalns to be afraid of anyone, perhaps I was wrong?"

The insinuation infuriated him, but when his eyes shot over to meet hers out of sure spite, he found himself caught in the deep violet which seemed to drown him. She smiled. "That's better, not so terrifying now, am I?"

"I'm not afraid of anything; no Thurucaln is."

She giggled, a sound which was like the tinkling of bells and seemed strangely childlike coming from the legendary warrior. "Be that as it may, I think there are many misconceptions on both sides. For example, I'm sure you heard that Xhaian women have hypnotic eyes which will trap you if you dare look into them, yes?"

He was visibly sweating, though she doubted it had anything to do with the heat as she blinked demurely. "Well is it true? Is your soul trapped forever in my eyes?"

He blushed and narrowed his gaze. "You have no power over me."

She smiled and washed off a soot mark just below his cheekbone, caressing his face with her other hand. "Well how about the one that says if you are captured by a Xhaian warrior, they will devour your body piece by piece while you are still alive?"

"I don't know about that one…."

Her smile turned mischievous, as she caught his eyes with her own. "Me either."

Dehn coughed, unnerved by her actions. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what exactly?" Shyana asked as she brushed back his troublesome hair which constantly fell in her way.

He glared. "Cooling me down, cleaning my wounds, singing.... what's your game?"

She placed the blood-and-dirt stained cloth back into the bowl before replying. "The answer is obvious really; I want you nice and clean before I eat you."

The boy audibly gulped, as Shyana stood. "Don't be afraid, I'm speaking in jest. The truth is I think you have many misconceptions about the Xhaian people. We aren't vicious cannibals, nor are we bloodthirsty killers; we're just trying to make a better world for our families. How is your mother, Dehn?"

His heart quickened when the image of a woman with kind eyes flashed in his memory. "I haven't seen her in many summers. I don't know."

Shyana gave her best pity face and placed a hand on his cheek. Little did he know that her "kind gesture" was actually a trap set in the most subtle way. While it was true that the water would indeed cool him down, her guard mixed in a special combination of janko leaves given to him before she started any interrogation.

This compound released endorphins in the brain, resulting in a comfortable or happy feeling, and hopefully in this case, trusting of what she had to say.

Time to start reeling him in.

"I'm sorry to hear that. My mother died long ago; I know how lonely it can feel. How much you wish you could hear her voice sing you to sleep or feel the way she would cradle you to her breast. You're so full of pain, Dehn, how can I help make it better?"

Dehn felt the coolness of her hand caress his face and it felt heavenly. Though it was forbidden to ever look back or attempt to contact your mother once you became a warrior, there were times he desperately missed her. Was it possible the general understood what he felt?

"I do miss her," he replied, a lazy, drowsy feeling taking him.

Shyana slid the blade out from her hip and cut his bindings. His eyes were so lost in her own, that he didn't even notice when she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and brought his head to her chest. "It's all right Dehn, it's going to be all right. If you tell me one small thing, I can make the pain stop. It would make me so happy if you told me."

Though it seemed like a flare was going off in his head, the urgency was dimmed by the lulling sound of her heart beat which called to him. She was warm, but not in an uncomfortable way and her arms were so gentle when they held him to her. "What is it?"

Shyana licked her lips, hoping the concoction was strong enough to dull his reasoning for her to ask the crucial question. "We have some people stranded in the Fepican Forest and I must rescue them. They are my family Dehn, but there are some Thurucalns there. I need to know if I can save them. Why are they there? What's so important?"

Again, the urging feeling to pull back and shut up pulsed through him and he almost managed to succeed, until Shyana placed her lips on his forehead. It was such a simple gesture, but the feeling of her cool lips caressing his burning skin was exquisite. She wasn't what the legends said, this woman cared for him, she loved him in the way he had been missing for so long.

His eyes watered as his arms circled around her. "You can't go in there, you won't be safe."

Shyana brought her lips down to his ear, brushing his long hair back. "Why won't I be safe, Dehn? What's in there? What are they after?"

For some reason he was feeling exhausted, as if the last bits of his energy were sapping away from him and her heartbeat was becoming louder. After a moment, it was the only thing he could seem to focus on, his eyelids opening and closing to the beat. "Blood Song... in…. the forest..."

With that, his world went black and he slumped over in Shyana's arms. She let him drop the floor in an unceremonious heap.

Standing straight up and clasping her sword at her side, the general barked. "Akiem! Guards! Get in here!"

They quickly heeded her command, bowing with their entrance. Akiem looked over to the drugged boy, who laid drooling on the floor. "Well that didn't take long. You beat your record, Shy."

Shyana brushed a hand at him. "Get him out of my sight, the janko leaves melted his brain; he's useless now. Akiem, we have much to talk about."

He eyed her wary, as her chest rose and fell with the most excitement she had felt in a long time. "It's time to return home, we must inform the Queen. The Blood Song has been found."