"Goddess of the Moons, please let this work," pleaded the Wizard, as he passed his hand over the cave entrance one last time. He made the sign of the tree and began his descent down the steep slope of the mountain.
The soldier came out of nowhere. There was no time to cast a protection spell, and the blade made a clean cut. As the Wizard's head fell, he watched his body crumple to the ground, and then he saw no more.
Selana watched her hand pull the tuber from the ground and drop it into the sack. Everything was moving in slow motion. She looked around her. Small flashes of light told her where the other slaves were, the sunlight reflecting off of their identification tags. The Nilks had a bridge of skin-covered cartilage that arched over their heads from one ear to the other. It was an ideal place for the Shatar to mark them as their property. There was a guard nearby. She waited until he moved into the corn fields before she made her move. They never counted heads until lunch time. By then she would be well into the mountains. Keeping low, the sack of vegetables in one hand, she began to make her way to the fields' edge. This was the only part of the plan that concerned her. If she was seen crossing the open space between the fields and the forest, she had no hope of escape. She crouched low, which made running awkward, but she was soon within the safety of the trees.
She stood, breathing heavily, more out of fear than exertion. After a few moments she turned to spare one last look at the life she was about to leave behind. A single thread held her, one that could be stretched, but never broken. She wished that she could have convinced Kessa to come with her. Not even the thought of her child being born to a life of freedom would sway Kessa. She was too afraid. They had said their good-byes that morning, the look in Kessa's eyes a final plea for Selana to reconsider, to stay. They had been the only two in their family to survive the war and had been raised by the other female slaves until they were old enough to work. Despite Kessa being the oldest of the two, Selana had always been the caretaker.
Selana wrenched her thoughts back to the present. It was not safe yet. She needed to get as far into the mountains as possible before the sun went down. She pulled her gaze from the fields and set out. Before long the ground began to slope upward, signaling her ascent into the foothills. She was careful not to leave any trace of her passing.
* * * She ate the raw tubers as she walked. They were bitter and hard, but they filled her stomach enough to alleviate her hunger. Judging by the sun's position, it was late afternoon. They would know she was missing by now, searching the areas adjacent to the work-fields. They may even question Kessa. A brief feeling of guilt tugged at Selana's heart and she prayed that they would take Kessa at her word that she knew nothing of Selana's disappearance. Maybe the pregnancy would buy her some lenience from the guards. Selana hoped that at least the one who had raped her would show her and his unborn child some compassion. She shoved her feelings of guilt aside. After all, Kessa had made the choice to stay behind.
The slope had steepened considerably within the last half hour, and before her loomed the first of the craggy cliffs. Her ascent into the mountains had begun. She wondered if she was anywhere near the original lands of her people. They had lived in caves in the mountains, farming the steep slopes and hunting the game that flourished there. It must have been wonderful to have all that freedom, and the magic. Selana knew that it didn't really exist, although many still believed that it did, but it was fun to imagine what it would be like if there was such a thing as magic. Maybe they would have won the war.
She scanned the face of the cliff, her hand shielding the sun from her eyes. It was not long before she spotted a dark patch, a blemish on the pale brown stone. It was a cave, shelter for the night.
The cave was easy to get to. She had begun to make her way up the slope toward it when she heard the dogs barking. Could they have found her so soon? Surely this was just a hunting party. Yes, of course, a hunting party, she reassured herself. Still, she did not wish to be seen, and she hoped the dogs would not pick up her scent. She scrambled up the slope. It felt as though she slipped three steps back for every one she took forward. Her worn skirt offered no protection against the jagged rocks, as the pain in her knees attested to. By the time she had reached the cave's entrance the hounds were howling excitedly, occasionally augmented by the shouts of men. Selana rushed into the cave and looked around for a place to hide. It was about thirty paces deep and fifty paces wide. The dry bowl of a fountain was centered on the far wall, two tunnels branching from the cavern on either side of it.
She bolted forward, dodging stalagmites that protruded from the cavern floor. Without stopping to think, she dashed into one of the tunnels and ran. Soon, the light coming from the cave's entrance faded to a dim glow and, despite the urgency of her situation, Selana had to reduce her pace to a crawl. Then, the passageway took a sharp turn and she was plunged into darkness. Only when she looked back could she see the faint light of day creeping around the bend in the tunnel.
She stood for a moment and listened. They were in the cave. The hounds were silent now, except for the occasional whimper, but she could hear the muffled sound of mens' voices. The words were not clear, but their tones indicated they were arguing, probably about which of the tunnels to search first. That meant there were not enough men to spread out and search them all.
Selana reached out and felt the reassuring roughness of the stone wall. With this as her guide, she began to move forward. It was not long before she could here the echo of footsteps behind her. She froze. There was nowhere to hide. She stood, pressed against the tunnel wall, listening to the sound of the approaching footsteps. They got louder and louder, and then stopped. When they started again, they were retreating.
She exhaled the breath she had been holding. They don't have torches. They can't come after me. All she had to do was wait for them to leave. She stood in silence for a while and had begun to think they were gone when she heard the unmistakable sound of stone scraping against stone.
"No," she breathed. They were blocking the entrance to the tunnel. She could hear the groaning of the men as they worked, then a few moments of silence before the scraping and grunting resumed. Her only chance now was if the other tunnels merged with the one she was in. She waited.
They had been working for an awfully long time. Realization, like a cold hand, grasped her and held tight. She was trapped. They were blocking all the tunnel entrances. It made no difference to them if she died; they had plenty of slaves to replace her. She should have gone back. She should have faced her punishment; anything but this. No. Selana shook her head. They would have taken her back to the camp and tortured and killed her, publicly, to make her an example for the rest of the slaves. If she was going to die, she would rather do it wandering free in these dark tunnels than at their hands.
Despite her brave intentions, she stood still for a long time. The noise of the working men had ceased. She was alone.
"Come on, Selana. This isn't getting you anywhere. Think. You have to think."
She had to find another way out of the caves. So, with a deep breath and a quick prayer to the spirits of the earth, she placed her right hand on the tunnel wall and started walking.
* * * Selana had no idea how long she had been in the dark. She felt like she had been wandering for hours. It was oppressive. Sometimes she felt like she was suffocating, and at other times, she felt that if she stopped moving, the darkness would swallow her up. It was hard to imagine that there was still a world outside of this blackness.
As her mind wandered, she noticed that the wall had changed; it was cold and wet. Water. She licked her hand and greedily searched for a place from which to drink. When she was unsuccessful, she began to lick the wall. It tasted wonderful. It was only after she had sated her thirst that she felt the force of her hunger. She resumed her journey down the tunnel, the monotony only occasionally offset when she tripped over an unseen rock. She was tired and her knees stung with every step. The passageway was too wide for her to touch both sides at the same time, and she had to accept the possibility that she could be passing tunnels that branched from the other wall.
"Selana."
"Kessa?" Had she come after all?
"How could you leave us, Selana? We needed you." Selana looked up. Kessa stood in front of her, the limp body of an infant in her arms.
The baby. Had Kessa had the baby already? But something wasn't right. Kessa wasn't due for another four weeks.
"I'm so sorry, Kessa," she cried. "Please forgive me. I want to come back. I want to help you."
"Follow me, sister. I'll show you the way."
Selana followed. Kessa was far ahead of her, and no matter how she tried she could not catch up. Kessa would disappear over a grassy hill and by the time Selana had reached the top of it, Kessa was already on the next one. The chase seemed like it would go on forever when Selana lost her balance and toppled to the ground. She lay there, her cheek pressed against the tunnel floor, her heavy breathing stirring the dust in front of her face. Kessa was gone and once again there was only darkness. She rolled onto her back. The cool air felt good, and she soon realized that the fresh air had to be coming from somewhere. Maybe there was a way out after all.
With renewed energy she pushed herself to her feet and began to move, her hand on the wall once again. It was not long before she began to doubt herself.
"I'm going to die in here," she whispered. Then she saw something moving along the wall beside her. She jumped away, only to realize that it was her own hand that had scared her. Her hand, she could see it. She pushed herself as fast as her tired body would allow. There was torch light ahead of her. But surely there was no one else in these caves. It was soon apparent that daylight was mixing with the light from the torches. She could hear sounds coming from somewhere ahead of her, panicked voices, the harsh sound of metal hitting metal, screams that could only come from the dying. She was forced to the side of the tunnel as five people raced past her. She stayed against the wall, dumbfounded and staring in the direction the group had gone. They were her people.
Hope returned to Selana. Maybe there were survivors from the Invasion after all, she thought, but the stories said everyone was either killed or captured. Maybe the past escape attempts weren't failures like we were told. According to the Shatar, they had caught and punished every Nilk who had tried to escape; but maybe they had only said that to discourage others from trying the same thing.
Selana proceeded down the tunnel. It was another few minutes before she came to the tunnel entrance. She did not expect what she saw. The cave she emerged into had three other tunnels leading out of it, four in total, two branching from either side of a large fountain. Across from the fountain was the entrance to the cave. She had been here before. This can't be, she thought. They blocked all the entrances. I heard them.
There were dead bodies all around her, both Nilk and Shatar. At the cave's entrance, there was a group of Nilk trying to turn back the last of the intruders.
"Pick up a sword, or get out of here."
Selana swung around. "What?"
A tall man with a very thick ear-bridge was glaring at her. His husky voice reverberated throughout the cave. "Fight, woman, or leave. You're in the way here."
"But, I . . ."
"Captain." A young man came running up. "Sir, good news." The large man nodded for him to continue. "The Shatar are breaking up. We've cut down their numbers considerably."
"Good." The Captain looked pleased. "Tell Commander Freth to send his troops after them. We don't want any Shatar to get away alive. Are they holding any forces in reserve?"
Oh, merciful Goddess, thought Selana. This is the Invasion. How did I get here? It was twenty-three years ago.
"No, Sir," replied the messenger. "The scouts have come back and reported that all is clear."
"Good. You can tell Commanders Kell and Yunin to recall their soldiers."
They don't know about the Thyrians, Selana realized. "No, you can't call the troops in," she cried.
The Captain turned his battle-scarred face toward her. "What do you mean I can't? Who are you?"
She stammered. "I . . . my name is Selana. Listen to me, you can't call your troops in yet."
"Why not?"
"Because, the battle's not over. There's a whole army of Thyrians coming up over the mountains, through Craw Pass. They'll be here any moment and you won't be ready. You'll lose."
He nodded to two of his soldiers and they seized her, one holding each arm. "Who are you," he demanded.
"I told you, my name is Selana. I know the outcome of this battle and you'll lose unless you listen to me. Please."
"She could be a spy, Captain Norin," said one of the guards.
"How can I be a spy? I'm one of you, just look at me, look at this tag." She bent her head forward so he could see it clearly. "It's how the Shatar mark their slaves."
"Ho, Captain Norin," came a loud voice. They turned to see a tall man with snow-white hair emerging from one of the tunnels, his robes swishing with each step.
"Grundar," said the Captain through clenched teeth. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to see how the battle fares, my good man." His gaze landed on Selana.
"Oh, but who do we have here?"
"She's none of your concern, Wizard." He turned his head toward her captors. "Take her to the holding caves."
Selana screamed. "No. You can't do this. You have to listen to me. Your freedom, our freedom, depends on it."
Grundar stepped in front of the soldiers, blocking their path. "What did you say?"
"I said our freedom depends on it. Thyrian troops will come at you through Craw Pass."
"Who are you, my dear?" Grundar spoke with a gentle voice.
"I told you already, my name is Selana."
"How do you know about the Thyrians?"
She just stared at him. How did she know? "Well," she began, "the stories about the war tell us how we lost."
"What do you mean, stories about the war," demanded Norin. "The blasted thing isn't even over yet."
"By the Goddess, I had to put the spell in place," cried Grundar, ignoring Norin. "And it worked, it worked." He grabbed Selana by the shoulders and shook her, jarring her from the soldiers' grasp.
"We can't trust her, Grundar," said Norin.
"She speaks the truth."
"How do you know?"
"Because, I brought her here."
"More magic, Grundar. Besides, she's just a girl, a child. What use is she?"
The Wizard look impatient as he spoke. "The Goddess of the Moon has chosen her, and she can speak as well as any soldier or any man, Norin. That's what we needed. Someone to tell us why we lost the battle, so we would be prepared this time." He shook his head and waved his hand in the air. "You needn't understand, but you had best heed what she said and expect those Thyrian troops. We've lost this battle once. It needn't happen again."
With one hand behind her back, he guided her to the fountain. "She's your responsibility now, Grundar," Norin shouted. "If anything happens, you'll answer for it."
"Drink," he said, once again ignoring the Captain. The water tasted good. She had forgotten her thirst and her hunger in all the confusion.
"Come now. Let's get you away from here." Selana looked back and saw the soldiers who had been holding her slip away while Captain Norin resumed giving orders to the messenger. She followed Grundar into the passageway.
This time, there was plenty of light to illuminate the corridor. Periodically, the walls of the tunnel were decorated with thickly woven tapestries. After a few steps she slowed her pace. "I don't understand," she said.
Grundar stopped and turned around to face her. "How you got here?"
"Yes. What's going on?"
"You see, Selana, this war has already been fought once, and we lost. I have been preparing for this and have a spell ready to . . ."
"Did you say a spell?"
"Yes, a spell. Why?"
"Well, magic isn't real." She laughed nervously. "We all know that, right?"
"Oh, Selana," Grundar placed a hand on her shoulder. "You don't believe do you?" She shook her head.
"You're here because I placed a spell on the cave. It has been my plan, should it look as if we might lose. You were the first of our people to enter the cave since then. You set the spell off and it brought you back to the time of the battle."
Selana shook her head. "But why?"
"The hope was that whoever came back could tell us something we missed, give us warning perhaps, that we might be ready this time and win. You've done just that. We wouldn't have known about the Thyrians in time without you."
"I don't know," Selana said, scepticism seeping into her voice. She had always been taught that magic didn't exist.
As if Grundar could read her mind, he gestured to one of the tapestries on the wall to their left. It depicted a Nilk standing on the green earth and above him hung a brilliant moon. A white drop of moonlight was falling onto the man's head. "That depicts the time the Goddess of the Moon gave us the gift of magic," said Grundar. "We were truly blessed."
They resumed walking and, before long, the tunnel emerged into a cavern, much larger than the entrance cave. From there, Grundar led her into a small kitchen. In the center of the room sat a long oak table, surrounded by chairs. Cabinets lined the walls, and on the far side of the kitchen there was a hearth. A cauldron hung over the flames of the hearth and Selana could see steam rising from it. Her mouth began to water at the smell of food. Grundar escorted her to a chair and soon she had a steaming bowl of stew, a heel of fresh bread, a hunk of cheese, and a flagon of wine sitting in front of her. She had never had such a meal. It did not take her long to devour the food. When she had mopped the bottom of the bowl with the last of her bread and popped it into her mouth, she looked up and saw that Grundar was watching her. Suddenly aware of her awful manners, she hung her head in embarrassment.
"It's all right," he said. She peered up and saw his warm smile, visible despite the thick beard. "You were hungry." He reached over and poured her a cup of wine before filling his own. She watched him take a long drink and followed his example. No sooner had it gone in her mouth, than the wine came shooting back out, covering the table in front of her as well as the Wizard.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," she gasped, raising her arm as if to fend off a blow.
"It's quite all right, child," Grundar assured her, as he wiped his tunic with a napkin. She could see the pity in his eyes. "Have you never had wine before?"
She shook her head. "No. We're never allowed anything but water to drink, and certainly not wine or ale."
He fixed his gaze on her so intensely that she could not look away. "How many generations have had to suffer the way you have, Selana?"
She was struck by the directness of his question. "Only one. My parents died in the invasion just after I was born. My sister and I were enslaved with the rest of our people. That was twenty-three years ago."
"What were your parents' names," Grundar asked.
"Bran and Lenna. Why, do you know them?"
He shook his head. "No, I'm sorry, Selana. I don't know anyone with those names."
"Oh." She could not hide her disappointment. Between the one glass of wine Selana had managed to drink and the events of the day, she had become incredibly sleepy. Grundar led her to a small bed chamber where she could rest for a while. Left alone, her focus was drawn to the bed, a luxury she had never had before, and she gratefully crawled into it without even bothering to undress herself first. She was asleep in moments.
* * * Selana awoke to find someone gently shaking her shoulder. Feeling very groggy, she opened her eyes. Grundar was standing over her. "Wake up, dear girl. You've slept the night away. There's a basin and clean water to wash in and there are clean clothes on the chair. After you're finished, come to the kitchen. I have much to tell you." Then, he was gone.
Selana longed to stay in the warm bed, but crawled out from under the covers and went to wash. The water was so clean and she savored the feel of its warmth on her skin. It took twenty minutes to scrub the years' worth of dirt from her body. She had never been so clean in her life. The clothes, a simple tunic and skirt, were so elegant and brightly colored that she felt like a queen. She picked up the mirror that lay on the table next to the wash basin and looked into it. She had never seen her own face with such clarity before, and certainly never so clean. She ran a hand along the fine line of her jaw and gazed at her deep-green eyes. She wanted to believe, she really did. Her hand went to her head, and she caressed her short midnight-black hair. She wondered what it would look like if it were long.
Selana felt awkward when she finally entered the kitchen, but the look of approval on Grundar's face was obvious. "You look lovely, my dear Selana." He bowed low and then pulled out a chair, gesturing for her to sit. She could feel her face flushing with the compliment, an unusual sensation that she rarely experienced.
"Thank you." She responded to his bow with an awkward curtsy before she took her seat.
"No, thank you."
She tilted her head in confusion.
Grundar chuckled. "You did it, Selana. You saved our people."
"You mean, we won?"
"Yes, we won. We were ready for the Thyrians, thanks to your warning" His smile stretched from ear to ear.
"But the Captain didn't believe you."
"Ah, but there are a few who do believe in magic, Selana. One of the soldiers that was there this morning told his commander what happened, and scouts were sent to check Craw Pass. They saw the Thyrians in plenty of time."
It was difficult for Selana to comprehend any way of life other than the one of slavery that she had grown up with. She smiled at Grundar as he poured her wine in an elaborate goblet. This tasted much better than the wine she had had the previous day.
"Our finest vintage," he told her. "Only used for special occasions." He settled himself into his chair.
"It's very good. I like it."
"What's troubling you my dear?"
Selana twirled the goblet in her hands. "I'm happy that we won the war, really I am, but .. ."
". . . but what will you do now," Grundar finished for her.
She sighed. "My entire life has been one of captivity. I don't know how I'll ever be able to adjust to a life of freedom. Besides this isn't the right time for me. I haven't even been born yet."
"All valid concerns, Selana, and you're right, you don't belong in this time. But you've no need to worry, because you won't be staying here. You'll be going back to the time you belong in."
"No," she pleaded. "Can't you send me somewhere else. I don't want to go back. I won't." She slammed her goblet on the table.
"Don't worry, Selana. You won't be going back to the life you knew. Things are different now. History, your history, has been changed and our people won't be enslaved by the Shatar. You will go back to a life of freedom and peace, and you won't remember any of this."
"Oh . . . I don't know what to say."
"You need say nothing at all. Just drink your wine and enjoy the moment. Soon you must leave."
And it was soon indeed. They walked through caves that Selana did not recognize. "Where are we going," she finally asked.
Grundar smiled at her. "I have a surprise for you. Something I think you should see before you go."
Finally, they emerged into a cavern that was larger than any Selana had yet seen in the obviously vast complex of caves. It was full of people. Small fountains cascaded from the walls and there was a large pool in the center of the cavern floor. There were children running about and splashing in the water, their shrill voices echoing from the high ceiling and walls surrounding them. Young couples lounged on mossy ledges, too involved with each other to notice what was going on around them. Older folk were off in one corner playing a game Selana did not recognize; they were using a long stick to push small disks into holes. Everywhere there were people standing or sitting, talking with one another and laughing. Not one of them bore an identification tag.
"Why have you brought me here," asked Selana.
Grundar said nothing, but pointed to their left. Selana looked in the direction his finger indicated. Standing near the far side of the pool was a woman holding a man's hand, her other hand resting on her swollen belly. They were laughing and watching the children play. Looking at the woman was like looking into the mirror all over again; she had the same sharp jaw-line, fine nose, and midnight-black hair, except that where Selana's was cropped close to her head, the woman's hair was long, falling down to her waist in soft waves.
"How did you find them," Selana gasped, tears sliding down her cheeks.
"I wasn't difficult. They're well known and well liked by many people. I just asked around while you were sleeping."
Selana watched as a small dark haired girl ran up to Lenna and crouched behind her, hiding from the boy who pursued her.
"Kessa," Selana murmured. She took a step in the direction of her family, but was abruptly halted, Grundar's firm hand on her shoulder.
"No, Selana."
"Why not," she demanded. She was so close to the parents she had never known and all she wanted to do was run to them and let them protect her.
"It's not wise for people to see you. You could be recognized when you grow up." He nodded toward Lenna, who carried the unborn Selana in her womb. "Too many people have seen you as it is. If anyone realizes that it was you who saved us from losing the war, life could become difficult for you. There are people who do not approve of magic, and even more who don't believe in it."
She nodded in understanding, but his words did nothing to ease the ache in her heart. She had learned from the stories she heard growing up that magic was as mythical as Frollop Birds and Fire-breathing Lizards.
Grundar gently placed his hands on her shoulders and steered her toward the entrance of the cavern. She looked back at her family. At least they were safe now. Back through the corridors and they went, how they ever found their way around here she didn't know, and finally emerged into a sunlit cave. Selana immediately identified it as the entrance cave. The sound of the fountain's flowing water filled her ears.
"Well, Selana, this is goodbye."
"Yes, I guess it is." She looked at the wizard. "I'm scared, Grundar."
"It's all right. There's nothing for you to fear now. When you get back to your own time you'll feel as if you'd been there your whole life, and you will have. All you need to do is walk out of the cave. When you walk back in you will be in the right place and time."
Grundar gave her an unexpected hug. "Good luck, Selana. Who knows, maybe magic won't be so ridiculed in the future."
"Thank you, and I hope you're right." Selana walked out of the cave and stood for a moment. The sunlight on her face felt good. She turned around and saw Grundar watching her. With a deep breath, she walked forward and as she reentered the cave she smiled. She was going home.
* * *
"Mama, mama, can we go visit Aunt Kessa and the new baby," Sinda and Fryu cried in unison. "Granma and Granpa said they would take us."
Selana looked over at her parents and they nodded in conformation. "His name is Trunar and yes, you may, but be careful. He was born early and isn't very strong yet."
"We will," they replied, already disappearing down the tunnel that led to the living quarters.
"And be back in time for the ceremony," she called after them. Selana's gaze returned to the statue of the unknown woman who had saved her people from losing The Battle of Craw Pass. It always astonished her how much the woman resembled her mother. So few people had seen her, and the sculptor had a very limited description to work with.
Magic had become more accepted since Grundar had used it to bring the woman here from another time. Many people still refused to believe that that's where she really came from, but others had begun to take magic more seriously. There were even a few students studying the old ways now, and that included Selana. Grundar had chosen her to apprentice him at an early age. With the permission of her parents, he had schooled her in the theory and practice of magic, and now she was a teacher herself. She smiled through her tears. They would not only be celebrating the twenty-third anniversary of their victory in The Battle of Craw Pass, but would also mourn the passing of the Wizard. Selana had been by his side early that morning when he died, and part of her heart went with him. She felt an arm go across her shoulders and looked up to see her husband. Telron gently wiped a tear from her cheek and smiled. As she settled into his embrace, she wondered what life would have been like if they had lost the battle that day.
Bio: Karen Shepley lives in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada. While she is currently working as a geophysicist, her true passion lies in writing. This is her first publication and, she would appreciate any comments and constructive criticism people may have about "The Choice of the Goddess".
E-mail: kshepley@cyberus.ca
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