Kongai Fan Fiction

that is an EXTREMELY good background to the kongai launch and i agree with you that it had no background and keep up the work you are doing.

where did you get all those ideas ô.ô

I wish you a painful death for this.

master cool is correct where DO you get the ideas.

a question can’t be correct : )

Thanks people, I appreciate it.

As for the ideas, they just come with the writing. I have a course at university where you have to write 10 minutes each day. So an obligation to write + playing too much Kongai = this. :D

im in the middle of writing a book so i know what you mean.

i’d like to read that book…

i dont know what ill call it but ill post it here in a few minutes its the first chapter k.

In the world. The greatest things come free to all humans. But to some comes pain of what comes free. If you compare life to chess, you can make good moves or bad also when fate is decided you can’t change it. But some can. If you try hard enough you can, or it comes naturally. So remember you have control, no one else does. Our story begins before the beginning of the story. Once there were profits and priests. But when we needed them, they vanished. Leaving only a tome that’s kept secret and it says “Thou shalt all be blessed by thy hero’s we bestow on thy when thou needs them most. Every 500 years, 20 shalt be born and rid the world of dark… 20 shalt be born and cause thy dark.” When the people heard this they were pleased and angered on how they could do this. That’s when all hell broke lose. Wars started and people fought for a place in the 20. But they forgot the most important thing, you must be born with destiny of it. The wars ended when the real ones came and stopped them. Some liked it, others joined the dark. But when the first generation of them died, sadness and happiness happened around all of the Earth. They waited and waited. Sadness. Sadness for the next 2 generations of the chosen ones have come and gone. They wondered when, where, and who’d be the next. Some also didn’t want to have them. No one knew who was the next until the chosen ones have reached the age of fourteen. They are ranked on numbers, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. You might be confused on when I said “20 shalt be born and rid the world of dark… 20 shalt be born and cause thy dark.” Because there’s only ten girls and ten boys in each factor. I’ve been talking too much about the prophecy and stories. So lets move on to the stories beginning. It begins in a small town but skilled in art and battle called Oak vale in the year 1422. Just a little village that has a school, market plaza, and temple. It’s populated by about 400 and is very normal… except that six of the forty chosen ones are born there. {}{}{}{}{}This is the first chapter of my book.

sry first page;P

does anyone like it???

mafioosnik said:

i’d like to read that book…

Be careful what you wish for…

that was the old version of my book that i started when i was 12 it was origanal and i reread it now that im 14 and restarted the book. i just wanted people to see the original and im only 3 microsoft pages into the new one.

yes i am very sorry i asked that…. no offense but most of that didn’t make any grammatical sense or didn’t fit into the context…our story begins before the beginning of the story? i believe you have just created a time paradox..

like i said before its an old copy i didnt want to ruin the actual story >=I

Scroll 2

Popo took his time and aimed carefully. When he let fly, the stone behaved perfectly and hit the pig right in the ham. The animal squeaked in terror and started running around in its enclosure, much to Popo’s delight. Rocking with silent laughter, he loaded another stone into his slingshot. The cows, a little farther away were his new targets.

Suddenly, a wasp appeared in front of his face, buzzing aggressively. Startled, Popo released his hold and the missile shot away, missing the cows by several feet and hitting a hideous wooden mask instead.

Popo grew pale and quickly emerged from the bush where he had hidden. As he approached the hut with the ceremonial masks on pales beside it, he realised that he was in trouble. His errant stone had taken a large chunk out of Juju’s precious artefact. He wanted to run, but knew that it was hopeless; he had heard all the stories about Antumbega’s shaman.

The children told each other that he had a third eye at the back of his head. That he grew plants in his garden that would kill you when looked at them. And that his muwongu, the village men’s traditional headgear, was not taken from a roc bird he had killed; instead, they whispered, it was a real part of him, and Juju transformed into a griffin at night. No, you didn’t want to cross Juju. The urge to run and hide became stronger, but when Popo turned around, he saw the man towering over him. The frightful gaze travelled between the boy and the mask, then back to Popo – who then had the bad idea to quickly hide the slingshot behind his back.

“Do you want to tell me anything?” Adults asked this question an awful lot, Popo thought, and most of the time, it concerned things they could plainly see. “I… I’m sorry,” he tried. “I think… I broke your mask.”

At least Juju didn’t hang him from a cloud and leave him there all day long, as he was told to have done with Popo’s friend Nakula once. Instead, he answered in a clam, yet very deliberate voice: “I can see that. Tell me, little addengu, do you have any idea how old this mask is?”

Popo almost answered, mostly because he didn’t enjoy being called a pighead. Granted, he wore one, but you couldn’t be picky about your first muwongu.

Still, he wisely remained silent and let Juju continue: “This mask belonged to all the village’s shamans, your grandfather as well, I might mention, and it is over 100 years old.”

“Well, then maybe you shouldn’t keep it outside, exposed to rain, wind or, say, stones..” Two slim shapes came around one of the huts, moving as alike as it is possible when one shape has twice as many legs as the other.

On seeing Zina and her pet, Popo felt hope that he might get out of this unharmed. In the mind of the children, she was at least as powerful as Juju, but far nicer. As one of the rare Beast Mistresses, she had had a bond with all kinds of animals since she was born. When she was barely ten, she had found her pet or naokolalem, the splinter of her mind. It was only ever called “the tiger” or “the pet”, as it was the sacred custom among Beast Mistresses. The animal had a name, but only Zina knew it, and no force in the world could have extracted it from her.

Everybody knew this, for that was her way. The children cautiously whispered when they spoke about Juju’s sinister powers. Zina on the other hand never told her secrets, but she loved to tell the children about them. And when she had them all excited, she lay back and enjoyed the attention, while her pet was stretched by the fireside, being stroked and having its fur ruffled by the young villagers.

“None of your business, Zina,” Juju snarled and turned on Popo again.

“No, but there’s business for you.” And all the time she was smiling that slightly belligerent smile of hers that, as everyone knew, drove Juju up the wall. “Tafari is back. I just thought you wanted to know – you two can hardly bear to be separated for long, can you?”

This was the one thing that could could save Popo. The shaman gave him another furious look and then stormed off to find his scout.

“Thanks,” Popo murmured when he and Zina were alone.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook yet. Juju will certainly tell your grandfather. And neither of them is very pleasant when you mess with their shamaning stuff.” This prospect made Popo swallow hard as Zina escorted him back to his hut. Her tiger strode behind them, looking equally ready to be patted on the head or slice you open with a single movement. Ubuntu sat in front of the hut, watching the clouds pass above him. He might have looked perfectly harmless, had it not been for his muwongu, the head of a valley demon he had defeated in a two hour battle almost twenty years ago. No matter how peaceful the old man might seem, the trophy always reminded the people who saw him that here was a man who had bested the deadliest predator the villagers knew and had lived to wear its head.

“What’s he done now?” he asked, without actually looking at either of the two.

“Nothing much, just annoyed a mean old bird. Might do that myself, should the evening get boring.”

Ubuntu closed his eyes and shook his head, clearly conveying both his amusement and his weariness of youth and all its follies. “in you go, Popo. We’ll talk about this later.” The youth went in and for the next two hours kept to his bedroom, thinking it wiser not to attract any attention for a while. And otherwise, he never would have heard the things he was about to.

Shortly after dark, footsteps approached their house. When he peered through his window, he saw Juju and Tafari make their way towards him. They knocked at the door, and his grandfather let them in.

They wasted no time on preliminaries. “Well, how bad is it?” Ubuntu asked.

“Bad.” That was Tafari’s hoarse voice, barely audible as the men each took a chair and sat down around the dining table. Popo was well aware that he was eavesdropping on the three most powerful men of Antumbega. His grandfather, once shaman and now the respected Elder, was nominally the village’s first man. But he had transferred a lot of his power to Juju, which meant that the shaman got to make all the choices Ubuntu didn’t object to. Tafari, finally, was the best scout and trapper they had.

“I have visited all of this season’s grazing grounds. Of course, it has been a tough year, but without the earthquake, we just might have made it. As it is, most of the land is buried under landslides. Two of the rivers are poisoned or inaccessible.”

Silence, then Ubuntu’s voice again. “Can the fields sustain us? Or hunting?”

Juju answered after a brief pause. “You know as well as I do that the fields have always been our most unreliable food source. When have we ever made enough to build up stocks?”

“Hunting’s no good either. The trappers are very worried; they’ve been attacked more often than usual lately. It’s like all predators suddenly chose us as their new prey.”

Again, there was silence. At length, Ubuntu spoke again. “I know what you’re going to say, we’ve been over this often enough. But where? There is no better spot around here.”

As soon as these words were spoken, Popo felt like great things were set in motion right next to him. The impression grew when he heard the voice in which Juju said: “Tafari has found something else.”

“Yes. The Spirits’ Wall. There is a pass.”

It seemed like all life, all movement around Popo ceased for a few seconds while the meaning of the words sank in. “A pass?”

“Yes, Elder. Created by a massive rockfall; I’ve never seen anything of that kind. Apparently, several of the most dangerous spots are now passable, if you are very careful. I have only gone a short way, but it seems that the earthquake has laid open a system of caves.” There was rustling, and then, for the next hour or so, the men could be heard studying a map of the Spirits’ Wall, and Tafari explained how the catastrophe had changed the landscape. Finally, Ubuntu said: “What is on the other side?”

It sounded like Tafari started to speak, but Juju was faster. “We don’t know yet. That is why we came to you, Elder. I want to send Tafari through the mountains, to see what he can discover. It may be our only hope to find a place where we can survive.”

A chair was pushed back and steps wandered around the room. Popo knew that his grandfather was thinking hard. Why does he need to think?, the boy wondered. Here was the gate to unknown countries, a new world. He trembled with excitement at the thought of it. Surely his grandfather would see reason.

“All right,” Ubuntu’s voice finally reached his ears. “Go, Tafari, see what you can find. But I want you to take Zina with you. This is far too important a task for you to face alone. Can you be ready by tomorrow morning?”

“Yes, Elder. I still have my things packed, and a few hours of rest should be enough.”

“Good. Then I will go and speak to Zina. I want you to be gone as early as you can. The fewer people know about this, the better.”

After murmurs of agreement, the three men parted. Popo silently stole into bed, and when Ubuntu entered his room, the boy seemed fast asleep. But in his mind, thoughts were racing. His grandfather didn’t want anybody to go with the two warriors. Not one of the villagers, and certainly not him.. But as soon as he heard the Elder leave their hut, he was out of bed, and began to pack his bag.

About noon the next day, Juju saw Ubuntu go from villager to villager. And when he heard the question the old men asked, he knew there would be trouble.

“I can’t find Popo anywhere. Have you seen him?”

I have NEVER seen quality posts from anyone with the amount of posts you have. you are brilliant.

Thanks TARDIS. And here’s to hoping that your boss survives the season finale. :D

Brilliant writing, I have never thought of the Kongai characters like this.

Scroll 1 was brilliant but scroll 2 was even better! I can’t wait till your next section. I hope more kongai players read these. At the moment I’m quite excited for Popo but would probably have to wait till the next chapter before the story goes back to him?! Are you going to extend your story so that the soon to be new sets are able to fit in? Please carry on writing!!!

Yep, afraid you’ll have to wait kingbilly. I didn’t know about the new sets, but so far, incorporating them should still be possible. Do you have any information on them?

The next section should go on some time tomorrow (my time, which is GMT +1).

Just wanted to also chime in. Excellent installment; keep it up!

Some other stuff first: I have found the official Kongai forum and there are some short background stories. My question whether I could go on with this thread or not have so far been answered by thunderous silence. So I’ll just continue until further notice (they don’t really strike me as Cease & Desist crowd ;) ).

Here’s part 3 of the first chapter, the fourth one is in the works. My aim is to have that online by the end of the week, because I will be in Australia for two weeks afterwards, and will most probably not post anything then.

Since the forum doesn’t allow more than one empty line at once, the paragraphs will now be separated by a +.

Enough idle talk, here goes.

+

Scroll 3

“Pray, tell me about this game of yours again. It sounds most enthralling.”

“Shut up, man.”

Cornelius just laughed at the terse reply. Young Cain was far too easy to irritate – how could he resist such a rewarding target.

“Now, now, my dear boy, there is no need to be rude. I merely want to ask you a few polite questions. First of all I’d like to know why you call it football but carry that “alleged” ball around. I realise of course that you are not to blame for this haphazard terminology, but maybe you can enlighten me a little.”

At this point, Ambrosia couldn’t watch Cornelius toying with the young man any longer. “leave him alone,” she said drawing herself upright on the couch. “If he thinks too hard, he’ll be useless the rest of the night. “ Though she had just saved him, Cain shot her a hate-filled glance.

“Oh, dear Ambrosia, you are right, of course. Why, I fear I have been overexerting our poor friend already. Where to, Mr. Solomon?” These words were answered by the sound of a door slamming shut.

“That went well,” Ambrosia remarked and ran her fingers over the rims of a hole in the wall beside the couch. It told the story of the last time Cornelius Constantine had taunted Cain, until the young vampire had punched this very hole, in order to avoid punching Cornelius.

“I agree, he is finally learning to control his temper. A most valuable exercise, don’t you think?”

“Somehow, I doubt that he will thank you for it.”

Cornelius sighed. “Well, ingratitude is the way of the world. But he didn’t thank us when we took him in, and look how well he is doing now.”

If you considered that the three vampires he now lived with had killed Cain’s friends, turned him into one of their own and taken him from his world, he was doing very well indeed. “I still wonder what the Marquis sees in him.”

A nasty smile crept across Cornelius’ face. “Distraction?” he offered.

“More of a pet, I’d think.” Ever since the vampires had returned to their own world, Marquis le Morte had taught and protected Cain – mostly from Cornelius.

“Do I notice the slightest touch of jealousy in your voice, my dear?”

“Not really. I just think there were more… worthy candidates.”

“But we both know how that turned out, don’t we?”

With a shrug, she closed her eyes and stretched out her long legs. Ambrosia, volatile as she was, had been quick to adopt the fashion of the world where the vampires had hidden for several years. Cornelius and the Marquis on the other hand had been wearing the same clothes at the beginning and the end of their exile. Had their dwindling magic not forced them back home, they might someday have adopted a more inconspicuous look. Now she was the one whose clothes were not of this world.

All of a sudden, she felt the well known pulling, tucking sensation. “Oh, what does he want now?” she muttered as she and Cornelius got up.

“Never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee.”

For a few seconds, Ambrosia just watched him. Then she said: “Remind me, please, what have you done in that strange world besides reading?”

Again, Cornelius showed the smile that spoke of the beast lurking under his suave shell. “A little killing.” “Oh, right. I had almost forgotten that.”

+

Marquis le Morte received them on the mansion’s parlour. The wide robes told you nothing about his actual shape, and what you could guess at was none too imposing. Yet there was something to him, an air of malevolence and loathing that kept him upright made you feel like you were already as good as dead.

How can we be of service, o ancient one?” Cornelius asked as he and Ambrosia were kneeling before their leader. “I want you two to go down to the village. Ask around. If anybody has seen her, report to me immediately.” The two vampires nodded. “Yes, my lord. And if anybody proves unwilling to cooperate… the usual punishment?” “Of course.” Being asked such a trivial question seemed to annoy the old undead to no end. “Do it now. I have another matter to attend to.”

Only when they were safely out in the corridor did Ambrosia vent her frustration. “ This is ridiculous. He is obsessed with her, so we waste our time waiting for her to pop out of the shadows and kill us all. Doesn’t he…” At this moment, they turned a corner and found themselves face to face with Cain. He said nothing and walked past them, but it was obvious that he had heard everything.

“How hilariously awkward. Really, Ambrosia, I do admire your tact and discretion.”

“Shut up, Cornelius.”

+

The two vampires left the mansion, formerly inhabited by the Nabura family. It was a very nice estate, situated on a hill so that you could see the village and still be down there in a reasonable time. Not too long ago, the family itself had adorned the house, one corpse dangling from each corner like gruesome wind chimes. They weren’t there any longer; the stench had become unbearable and anyway they had fulfilled their purpose: a show of strength for the benefit of the villagers. And when the humans were sufficiently frightened, that vampires had moved to their plan’s second stage.

“I am still thoroughly enjoying my new freedom,” Cornelius confessed as they strode down the road from the mansion. Ambrosia was wearing a long cloak that covered her rather eye-catching clothes. “I think that was the most unpleasant aspect of our sanctuary,, this constant feeling of being hunted and living in secret. At least here, we can walk the streets as free beings; which is not to say I am ungrateful for your garmental restraint.”

They entered the little village of Krifting. Left and right, villagers were bowing or lifting their hats. Each time the undead replied in kind.

“Good evening, Famrey. How is your wife doing?” Cornelius asked one of the men.

“Oh, much better, thank you, sir. The midwife said she was quite confident that the baby will live.”

“Well, give her my regards.”

“I will, sir.”

After little more than a month, Ambrosia was still amazed to see how easy ruling mortals had become. At first, Cornelius’ plan had appeared ridiculous, one of his crazy otherworldly ideas. But having nothing to lose, the Marquis and Ambrosia had agreed to give it a try (her vote had been purely for show, of course, and nobody much cared what Cain thought). So after the vampires had made a public show of killing the Nabura’s and taking possession of their house, Cornelius had explained the situation to the people of Krifting. The vampires would rule with an iron fist if they had to, but only then. Otherwise, they would behave as well as their new subjects did. Of course, nobody believed a word of it at first.

And then the new masters had come bearing gifts. The Naburas had been a merchant family, so they had been a.) incredibly rich and b.) generally despised. The vampires began t distribute the money, for which they had no need anyway, among the villagers. Mostly, this was a task for Cornelius and Ambrosia; Cain had been allowed to run a few minor errands, and the Marquis straight-out refused any interaction. They also sometimes lent a helping hand or did other small things to gain the villager’s trust. After two weeks, general opinion was that the Naburas had only gotten what had been coming to them for a long time, and that Krifting was prospering under the new aegis. Even the vampire’s lust and need for blood was slowly accepted, largely due to the nice stories the first “donors” told about the time when they had been summoned up to the mansion. Of each story, some was true, some was false memory, and some was forcibly made forgotten. Also each member of the community was only invited for a second time when everybody else had been there at least once, too. By filling pockets with money, heads with false memories and with just a grain of fear, the vampires had achieved in one month what had eluded them for centuries: their bite had become something people felt privileged to receive, something they looked forward to.

The two of them entered the greengrocer’s store – since they had taken over the village, shops were opening and closing later, so that everyone could do business, including people with an aversion to sunlight.

“Good evening, madam, sir. An honour to have you here,” the tall lank man behind the counter said.

“Good evening, Coris. We’re happy to find you in good health. Has your wife told you of her evening at the mansion?”

“Has she told me? She hasn’t talked of anything else for days. She asked me to thank you for your most generous hospitality.”

“It was our pleasure.” It had been. Oh, she had screamed and sobbed when she had entered the presence of the Marquis, but Cain had held her down. After some of Cornelius’ hypnotic tricks, she now remembered a most exquisite banquet and the bites as hardly noteworthy. And she would willingly come again when summoned.

“Coris, you know why we are here?”

“Yes, sir. But there has been no sign of her.”

“No strangers in the village? Nobody travelling through?”

“No, sir. Unless…” A wave of Cornelius’ hand prompted him to go on. “Unless someone is hiding her. Someone like… Nerwin Chapner for example. He owns a big warehouse, so that should be no problem for him. And he has never liked you the way we others do, madam, sir.”

The two vampires exchanged a glance, then Cornelius said: “Thank you, Coris. We will look into it.”

For the first time, Ambrosia spoke as she leaned towards the greengrocer. With her sweetest and most alluring smile, her coat opening a little at the relevant places, she purred: “You may have done us a great favour. You will soon be summoned to the mansion, and I will personally show you our gratitude.” They left the man to ponder his extraordinary good luck.

“Poor bastard,” Cornelius chuckled when they were out of earshot and making their way to Chapner’s. “He even thinks we believed his dilettante denunciation.”

“Still, this is a wild goose chase,” Ambrosia said. “There is no evidence whatsoever that Vanessa followed us home through the vortex. And even if she did, what can she possibly do to us?”

“You underestimate her, my dear. She is one of us, and after all, she broke my hypnotic hold over her. A remarkable feat.”

“True love,” she snorted. “What an overrated concept. I have seen people achieve the same effect by having their limbs torn off.

“Yes, now I remember. Ah, those were the days, right?”

+

A newly created vampire was always a being full of confusion and conflicting emotions. That was why they were all habitually placed under Cornelius’ hypnotic power, to have them behave as their Elders saw fit.

But the woman who now called herself Vanessa Voss had fallen in love when the vampires were in exile, and had left them, burning with a fierce hatred against the undead. She was the one the Marquis feared.

Chapner’s warehouse was already closed for the night, as if the building had the task to convey its owners defiance. “Not a very promising start,” Cornelius remarked. He knocked, waited, and knocked again, louder this time. When Nerwin Chapner opened, they brushed inside past him. “Nerwin, good evening. You seem to have accidentally closed your business already, but I am sure this won’t happen again, right?”

The man just stood there, arms crossed, glowering at the vampires.

“We have come to inquire after the whereabouts of a friend of ours. You wouldn’t have seen her?”

“Get out. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“Now, my good man, that’s no civilised way to behave. We are just asking.”

Silence. Ambrosia decided to speed things up, and said: “What is more, we would like to invite you up to the mansion. This is your night. Don’t bother to cha…”

During her speech, Chapner had become paler and paler. Now he drew a small dagger from his belt. Both creatures of the night felt the light magic that permeated the the blade. Without any conscious action, they crouched down, their fangs extended and hissed menacingly. Chapner with a courage born out of despair advanced on them, and indeed he could take two steps, before Ambrosia raised a hand.

The man stopped, a look of panic on his face. He grabbed his throat, gasped and then collapsed. Within seconds Cornelius was upon him and flung the dagger into the farthest corner of the room.

“I have half a mind to take him up the hill and have his death go my way,” Ambrosia growled as she straightened up. “But the ‘usual punishment’ is far more exquisite,” Cornelius replied as he dragged the unconscious man towards the door.

+

A few minutes later, everyone was gathered at the marketplace, and Cornelius allowed Chapner to wake up again. He was bound to a stake that had not been there a month ago.

“My dear friends,” Cornelius addressed the crowd. “We have brought you here so that you can judge this man. He has rejected us and our friendship, spurned our invitations.”

On this, the first shouts could be heard. Some were encouraging him no to be stupid and to accept, but already many were calling him a coward, selfish and other unpleasantries.

“But not only has he tried to turn his back on us, an unprovoked insult we would have been willing to overlook. No he has actually and maliciously attacked us.” At these words, the crowd started screaming, and now the word ‘traitor’ could be heard. While Cornelius gave this big speech, Ambrosia did her part. She just tried to look as innocent and vulnerable as she could, and being beautiful, she managed to make the crowd even more hostile to Chapner.

“You know we have tried to do right by you; you all know that,” Cornelius continued. “Now imagine our shock, our disappointment, when your fellow villager tried to kill us with this very dagger.” Ambrosia held up the dagger. Broken in two, all magic had left it. The crowd was outraged now. One voice shouted: “He’s not one of us!”

“We see now what devoted friends we have in the rest of you. You have not forgotten the things we have done for you, and are worthy of our trust. So we give this wretched man to you, to do with him as you see fit.”

Cornelius and Ambrosia stepped aside and let the mob close in on Chapner. He screamed something, but the masses’ frenzied cries drowned it out, and soon he fell silent.

As he watched the villagers beat the unfortunate man to death, Cornelius said, half to himself: “There’s danger in the lion’s wrath,/ Destruction in the tiger’s jaw;/ But worse than death to cross the path/ Of man, when passion is his law.”

Ambrosia looked at him sideways. “You really have read far too much back there.”

“You think so? Please, remind me to tell you of a gentleman named Machiavelli some other time.”

TIGER CLAW ATTACK!

So, here’s the final part of the first chapter. Enjoy.

Scroll 4

It was a sad thing to behold. The crossed scimitars lay on the sarcophagus and glittered in the sunlight, almost in spite of the melancholy occasion. Countless figures clad in mourning brown watched the deathbearers carry the stone coffin to the Wall of Heroines, where it would rest forever.

Helene was one of the four women who struggled under the weight of their dead Warrior Queen. If was an honour as well as a test. The warrior who faltered here could never hope to get rid of the shame, would never become a Queen’s Confident.

She was convinced that she could see it through, and she was not worried for Phoebe or Ashi either. Anex’ friend Andromeda however… she was a bowwoman, not used to such a backbreaking task. But she was close to the family, and Anex had put her trust in the poor woman.

Helene could see that she managed – barely. And all the while they were caught in the rhythm of the funeral hymn, taking a step at the music’s command, standing still when it demanded so.

They now ascended the ramp that led to Lysartha’s grave on the Wall’s third level. She had to do something, and quickly. Their only hope was to make use of Andromeda’s strengths – her reflexes, her swiftness. Within seconds, she knew.

“Phoebe,” she whispered to the woman in front of her. Her friend nodded slightly to show she was listening. “Rope,” Helene hissed, and the next instant, Phoebe was fiddling with the knot as her other arm took the brunt of the weight.

Then Helene heard the sound she had been longing for – steel scraping over stone. The rope did not hold the weapons in place any more, so they slid down the coffin. “Andromeda,” Helene called out for all the world to hear.

The archer understood; she stepped swiftly aside to make room for Helene, who was now carrying the lower end of the sarcophagus alone. Just in time, Andromeda reached for the weapons and saved them from falling to the ground.

The crowd sighed in relief; an auxiliary carrier shot towards them and helped Helene with her end. Too late to save my back, she thought, as her muscles felt like the were on the point of tearing apart. But her mission had succeeded. According to the ritual, Andromeda now had the task to carry the weapons and prevent them from further harm.

Helene carried the coffin with a much lighter heart, although her back had some very poignant things to say to her. But Andromeda still had the chance to become a Confident. Instead of her failing in front of everyone, the man who had prepared the coffin would take the fall. But Helene knew that Euphilos would understand. That was why she had married him, and would do so again in a year’s time.

The five women reached the top of the ramp wihout further incidents. They set down the sarcophagus on the altar and Ashi opened the door to Lesyrtha’s cavity in the Wall. Then they all stepped back. Below them, they could just hear Anex begin her speech to the other Amazons.

“Today we give the Wall one of our greatest. A warrior whose fame stands on an equal footing with that of our foremothers. Our defenses will be that much stronger, our blows that much swifter and our kinship that much stronger for knowing that she watches over us.

“What she has done can hardly be appreciated enough. She was the one who drove the pirates off our coast. She held us together in our time of crisis and under her rule, we repelled the Wandering Night. Not one of us was her equal in battle. She has won countless duels and 136 formal challenges.”

Her voice became softer, a tone Helene hadn’t thought Anex was capable of. “But more importantly, she was our Queen, our friend, my mother. She sent nobody away without a kind word. She blessed every home and every marriage herself, and her home was always a welcoming place. You see my father Theros beside me today.” The only man present got up from his seat, bowed and sat down again. It didn’t take an oracle to see that his statuette would soon stand in the niche next to his wife’s grave.

Anex continued: “They were married eleven times, a rare blessing, if not a miracle. But he is not the only pakras who grieves for her. Sisters, look, over the palisades. You will see the men and children, your husbands, sons and daughters, standing outside, waiting for their chance to honour their Queen. Yes, she was Queen to all of us, pakraes and Amazons.

“When I was young, she told me that not one of us should live a life in darkness. She lived and ruled by that, and so will I.”

Anex fell silent and stood motionless for a moment. Then she drew her chakkra and placed it in front of her feet. One by one, the other Amazons followed her example.

When the revery was done, Andromeda put the scimitars back in the lid and reclaimed her original position. Together they carried the sarcophagus to its final resting place. On their way down the ramp, the mourners going up met them halfway. Anex and Theros walked ahead of the the rest and nodded to the deathbearers and the Queen’s future Confidents. Lysartha’s lieutenants followed her family, then came the other Amazons.

After they had reached the foot of the ramp and put some distance between them and the ceremony, Andromeda came up to Helene. “Thank you,” she said. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.” The swordswoman just shrugged. “You’ll make a good Confident,” she just said.

“And besides,” Phoebe chimed in as she put her arms around the two women from behind, “who’s going to tell on us? Ashi?”

Helena cast a worried look at the fourth of their company. Ashi had always lived in a world of her own, even more so since she had taken a vow of silence. You could never be sure how she would react to anything. Today, however, she smiled at what she heard.

The four of them went along the broad path that led from the Wall to the palisade. Maybe it was a bit martial to separate the pakraes, the men and children, from the warriors by such a structure, but it certainly served its purpose. Beyond the wooden stakes, the husbands and bachelors tended to the young, forged the weapons, cultivated the fields, in short: did everything to ensure their society’s survival. Those who excelled in their professions were almost as respected as the Amazons themselves. Still, picking a partner, marrying and a thousand other things were the women’s privileges.

“Blessings upon you, Techara,” Helene addressed the guardian. “We’ll relieve you, so you can pay your respects.”

“Thanks. I’ll send a messenger when you can let them in.” Beyond the palisade, you could already hear the mumbling of many voices.

“How many are waiting?”

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” Techara answered over her shoulder.

Phoebe didn’t need to be told twice and unlocked the upper right quarter of the large wooden gate. When she opened it to look outside, the noise and mumbling swelled to a roaring storm. “A bit more than I expected,” Andromeda remarked. “Is anybody left in the village at all?”

Helene saw Euphilos and their daughter Cassiopeia standing close to the barrier. They met at the gate and she quickly kissed her husband while Andromeda and Phoebe tried to calm the waiting people.

“Everything all right?” he asked. She almost said “Yes”, but then she remembered what she had done. “Some of the others may scowl at you. The scimitars almost fell down.” She saw that he was about to protest. Very quietly, but all the more urgently she said: “I had to do it,” and inclined her head slightly towards Andromeda.

After a few moments, he nodded. As one of the biggest and most respected farmers, he could deal with the small blemish. Being a pakras, he was judged more leniently anyway.

“Mama, what happens next?” Cassiopeia asked. Six years old and very bright for her age, she would pass onto the women’s side of the the palisade in one year and begin her training.

“Well, in a few moments, we’ll let you in to say goodbye to the Queen. And some days later, I will go to the woods with Anex and the others.”

“Why?”

“So we can prepare. Anex will be Queen soon. You like Anex, right?”

Hesitantly, Cassiopeia nodded. Helene guessed that was as much affection as anybody could show the Warrior Princess. She hardly let anyone come close to her.

“What do you think?” Euphilos said. “Will she start a new campaign within the year?”

“I don’t know yet. It depends on the opportunities.”

“Let’s hope she doesn’t. I want to marry you again, you know.” That was unusual frankness for a man, but Helene took it with a smile. “Well, there’s nothing I can do, is there?” he continued. “’No marriages in war…’”

“’... no divorces in peace’,” she finished the quotation. “And it also says: ‘War is not the pakraes’ business, so heed them not, but fight and love’.”

“Yes, I never quite understood that line, ‘fight and love,” he mused with a smile. “Do they mean battle or marriage?”

Helene gave him a roguish grin. “Wait until next leave-day, and you’ll find out.”

A brilliant read! I strongly encourage you to continue! However, like several stories I’ve written, it seems as though it’s been written for fun (which of course it has) but that also means t hat if you continue, you may want to start thinking of some overall plot to twist in.

Anyway, great stuff! :D