Blogging Prose

Goddess, Part I

A warrior of the old world strikes back at the new.

She surveyed her domain and saw the familiar things: a distant mirage promised entry into new worlds, the wild herds fled from unseen things, and the foragers fought the temptation of the meager shade tucked beneath clusters of pathetic trees.

Old Ra rode the heavens and scorched those foolish enough to watch his passage.

Goddess. Queen. Mekhit.

Her people called her many other things, but those names were favored among them. She preferred the latter and most conceded to her desire. This woman, a warrior of her people, had forsaken her birth name in an almost forgotten time. Those days were difficult, but they did not compare to the horrors she had seen in recent times. The treasure that had been taken, whether it be the old ways, or her innocent people, could not measured in significance.

Each week, Mekhit would come to this peaceful place to meditate. Her chieftains and people respected her privacy and recognized her ability when clear-headed. They left her alone, save for a seldom seen band of warriors dispersed around her.

As Ra fled the world, she felt the chill raise her skin. Looking to her arm, she absent-mindedly traced the criss-crossing scars there. Her other arm and legs bore similar, equally random scars. At some point, the ritual scarification had healed and been replaced by the wounds of battle. Her shamans had done a superb job closing the piercing wounds, but the deep cuts always healed painfully. Somehow, she had suffered no debilitating injury since she took the spear. Perhaps she was blessed. Perhaps she was the most skilled warrior among her people. In either case, she was alive.

Mekhit stood as the moonlight set the keen edges of her spear alight. She was not the tallest of her people, yet she was powerful and fit. She was the epitome of the warrior form and moved like the dancer. Mekhit turned homeward and began to jog. She didn’t need to alert her guard because she felt them around her. As she gained a long-distance pace, she heard the ten men and women around her synchronize with her breathing. Absolute trust and absolute confidence carried these eleven warriors through the night.

The day’s rest and meditation had confirmed her decision about the thieves and murderers. The return home would take many hours, but she needed this time to craft the finer details of her response.

 

 

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