Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Memoirs of a Mercenary ❯ Chapter 6

I did as I was told, stunned. My mind was an utter blank, and it seemed as if every sight, every sound around me was amplified, my mind trying to drink it all in because this was the last time I would ever see it. It is not surprising then, that I overheard voices coming from the shaman woman's house. I stopped, listening. I didn't mean to eavesdrop; I just wasn't expecting anyone else to be there.

 

“Give me one good reason I shouldn't raze this village to the ground right now, woman!” a man's voice, angry and strained, wafted through the walls.

 

“I did everything I could, I had to plead with them not to kill her! You must understand, she is a threat to our very way of life!” the shaman woman explained, sounding very fearful.

 

“But it is her destiny!” the man argued back.

 

“I know that, but they—”

 

“She is here,” he interrupted.

 

I heard the sounds of the shaman woman's footsteps approaching, and so I wasn't surprised when she threw open the door. I must have looked completely broken, for she clucked her tongue affectionately and pulled me through the door, putting an arm around my shoulders. I looked in the one room hovel, but there was no man. There were no other ways out of it either, short of punching a hole through the daub walls. Since there was none, I looked up to see if he was clinging to the ceiling to ambush me.

 

“What is the matter, dear?” the shaman woman asked. She probably thought I had completely lost it.

 

“Who were you talking to?” I asked.

 

I thought I saw her face flicker, but it could have been surprise. “No one, Tera. Are you alright?”

 

I nodded. “I guess so.” I mean, hearing voices isn't alright, but considering the circumstances I was doing ok. I hadn't fainted yet, that was good.

 

She nodded in return, concern written on her face. “Come inside, I have some things for your journey.”

 

At last I did, sitting down next to the cooking fire, near a pile of belongings that I wagered were mine.

 

There was a change of clothes, designed for warmer weather, some food provisions that would last a good while, and basic tools necessary for survival. It looked very much like a kit for a mission. I fingered a blanket, the realization that I would be sleeping on the ground from now on starting to sink in.

 

The old woman sat down as well, having a harder time of it. “Now, you know how to forage, right?”

 

I nodded. I'd picked up some of the finer details from talking to the men.

 

“And do you know which direction you will go?”

 

“South,” I said automatically. The weather was supposed to be better in that direction, so I figured that would be my best choice.

 

“Good.” The shaman woman sifted through some of the objects, until she came to a long, thin bundle. Handling it gingerly, she placed it in my lap.

 

I opened it, and inside I found a sword, complete with belt and sheath. At first I didn't touch it, out of pure habit, but then I realized the situation. I picked it up, and drew the live blade from it's sheath.

 

“This,” she shaman woman explained, “is a gift from Tarmac. You are not to take it out until you have left the village.”

 

I sheathed it immediately, wrapping it back up.

 

“You will earn your living using it in the outside world. It will be your survival.”

 

“Tarmac? Why would he give me such a thing?” I asked, not wanting to think about survival.

 

“Before you were born, Tarmac had a much younger sibling who practically worshipped him. This sibling wanted nothing more than to follow in his footsteps. She killed herself when she discovered she was a girl. I think you remind him of her.”

 

“Oh.” What can one say to such a thing?

 

“He probably wouldn't have put up with all of my suggestions if it weren't for her.” She explained. That also explained why he defended me so passionately.

 

I stared at the pile, judging how heavy it would be to carry. “When do I leave?” I asked.

 

“Tomorrow morning. You must be over the hill before the sun rises. You will stay here until then.”

 

“Will I get to say goodbye to my family?”

 

“I'm afraid not.” There was a long pause. “Do you want to talk about it?” she offered consolingly.

 

“No.” I answered. “I want to sleep.”

 

It was mid-afternoon, but the old woman obliged. “I'll leave you alone then.”

 

That night, I dreamed of the evil spirit again. This time, though, I let it catch me. I wanted to die. When it caught me, it turned into the shaman woman, who rocked my suddenly tiny form in her arms, singing a war song to the tune of a lullaby. She handed me the sword, and pointed it to herself. She told me it would make me feel better, and so I ran her through. She smiled, and everything was better.

 

The shaman woman woke me just as the first light seeped into the sky. I bundled my things, and ate every morsel of the meal she gave me. Who knew how long it would be before I had a decent meal again. After a long silence, she spoke.

 

“Tera, I feel you have a right to know why this is happening to you, although others may disagree.”

 

I swallowed my mouthful of food. “I know why it is happening. I called down the attack on the village.”

 

She had very little response. “What do you mean?”

 

I sighed. “I was tired of living as a woman, and so I asked the evil spirit to change things. This,” I gestured to the pile of provisions, “was not exactly what I had in mind.”

 

“I am sure it is not what the evil spirit had in mind. And I am sure you did not wish the village to be attacked.”

 

I shook my head. “No, I didn't want anyone else to get hurt. I just wasn't specific enough, I suppose.”

 

The shaman nodded, and then went on. “That is not, however, what I was talking about. I meant why the evil spirit chose you in the first place.”

 

I stopped eating. It was a question that had haunted me my whole “adult” life.

 

She took a deep breath. “As you know, you have four older sisters. What you don't know is that the children your mother had that did not survive were also all girls. It was I who had warned her that you were to be her last baby, she was not doing well and the strain on her body was too much. Your father and she had hoped very much that you would be a boy, and live. The birth was hard for her, and very long, especially for an experienced woman. At long last, you came, and I held you to her. She was half delirious with pain and exhaustion, and as she collapsed she murmured the words `another girl…' before passing out. There was nothing we could do; she had said it and we could not erase the past. When she awoke, she remembered nothing of it.”

 

So that was it. All those years ago, my fate was decided by the half-delirious murmurings of a disappointed mother. Suddenly I didn't feel so bad about not getting to say goodbye. I finished my meal quickly, and bid the shaman woman farewell. It didn't take me long to reach the top of the southern hill, and I glanced back down into the valley just as the sun poked its head up on the horizon. Never again, I thought, and turned my back on all I had known and ventured out into the wide world.

 

The first night I slept on the ground I cried myself to sleep.