Part 7

Time stood still. The sounds of the forest night were gone. Darkness closed in around me and my vision focused on the bow. Long moments, minutes perhaps, passed without a single thought. They were there, beyond consciousness, but I was mentally paralyzed.

A howl erupted from my belly. I lept to my feet, screaming, swinging the bow with all might, pounding the earth. I turned to the blackoak and savagely attacked, battering until the bowstring snapped, until my arms and shoulders numbed, until the bow splintered into fragments. I flung whatever I still held into the forest canopy and fell to the ground, screaming still.

There were still no thoughts for some time. It was pure anguish. It may be impossible to describe the loss I felt, the sense of failure. My honor was gone.

What is a Priestess who has lost favor in the eyes of her goddess? What is a Sorceress whose mana has been corrupted? The loss of my weapons doesn't diminish me - the strength of an Amazon lies not in her tools but in her heart, in her honor.

Denari the slow, the clumsy, the weak, and now, the careless. Denari the outcast. The failure. They were right.

The midnight star in the Huntress wasn't a boon, it was a warning.

There would be no Elevation.

Another wave of horror hit me with my first clear thought. I said it aloud. 'Every Elevation ritual ends with an Omen. This is how well the Amazon knows her path.'

I was Amazon no longer.

Future Amazons all over the world would look back on this day and call it 'Day twelve of the Moon of the Harvest in the Year of the Failed Ritual'.

I was pacing around the glade. How did this happen? No Explorer had ever left Imlatishan knowing the Way better than I, or so I thought. My strength was mental, my devotion complete, but in the end, both had failed me! How could I have overlooked such a simple rule? Was my lapse from excitement in using a bow again? In hunting the arch-enemies?

And why didn't I know whence the bow came? Surely, an Amazon finding a bow as fine as that one would never have forgotten the moment. This bow was in my camp chest for longer than I could recall, so I hadn't found it during my mindless rage.

Aiyah! The rage! I knew then it wasn't normal - no Amazon Heroine had ever experienced it. I couldn't remember my actions because my Amazon spirit rejected them. Unable to bear the transgression, my spirit drove me insane! In my heart, I must have known the bow was never earned in battle. Probably bought with gold from that fat smith or that maimed manchild.

I fell deep, deep into a swirl of shame, grief, and depression. I must have succumbed to sleep before dawn, and I woke in mid-afternoon. I sat up, leaning against a tree on the edge of the clearing opposite the blackoak. Decaying witch parts lay about in the bright light of day. Arrows were still positioned for the completion of the Elevation ritual. The bonfire had long turned to ashes. Bow fragments were scattered all around this side of the blackoak.

I don't know how long I sat there, staring at the scene, but it was well into the night when I asked, 'What now?'

Part 8

There is no Amazon ritual to undo what I had done. If I was to make amends, if indeed amends could be made, I was on my own. For the first time in my life, the Way of the Amazon couldn't guide my path.

But it did offer some hope. 'By Blood or Deed'. This is a core tenet in Amazon society. A woman can claim the right of Explorer candidacy only by blood or deed. If not born to an Amazon community, as I was, then a candidate must have accomplished a glorious feat. The First Amazon claimed her right this way, and founded the first Amazon tribe.

Perhaps a quest such as this could restore some of my honor. But what deed is adequate? Every Amazon I had ever known was born Imlati. Nothing is said in legend of the First Amazon's quest.

And I wouldn't know success or failure until I had repeated the Heroine Elevation. The Mother Goddess would judge me then.

It seemed futile. A deed would have to be great for the Imlatishan Amazons to accept a rogue female. And that only for Explorer candidacy! I was Huntress, master of melee! Was there any foe worthy of such a quest?

What did that babbling fool say when I emerged from the healer's hut? Something about a trapped demon lord in league with Lazarus and a group of wizards? Could my destiny be reclaimed on some layer of Hell I hadn't visited?

No. Worthy foes are for Amazons on the path. Perhaps, if I was Heroine, this prince of the abyss would be my prey. My path had forked from that one, perhaps forever.

What great deeds had I overheard at the tavern's tables? Would any of these do? Could I seek help from another? Perhaps Adria, though not an Amazon, would have some sage advice?

No. This was my quest. My doing, my failure, and hope beyond hope, my salvation.

I spent days in that clearing, staring blankly. Sometimes I would try to imagine this Diablo thing. Mostly, my mind was empty. Having exhausted all possibilities I could mentally conjure, I think I had given up, in a way, and waited only for some kind of inspiration.

The sun was setting on the sixth day after my failed ritual. The stench was becoming nigh unbearable - spring would have brought bright fragrant flowers to this glade if not for the witch gore. The arrows still held their formation. Bow pieces still lay where they fell. The string had long ago been plucked from the earth by a raven, perhaps mistaken for some morsel, and carried up into the blackoak.

The blackoak! It was unmarked! How many times had I stared at this side of the tree, at the very place that should have had near-fatal gashes in its bark? Surely, it was no axe I swung, but I was a Huntress, with an enchanted bow of powerful pull, as strong as any mace. I stood and walked up to the tree, placing my hand onto its dark, knobby skin.

I yanked my hand back with a shriek. Warm to the touch! As if the viscous fluid inside ran like hot blood! What evil is this that would deform the greatest of nature's creations? Was it my doing? Was it a sign? I looked up to the higher branches, among the jagged leaves, and saw the dangling bowstring. The raven was there, gazing at me with calm, peaceful eyes. Merciful eyes.

The Blackoak Bow!

Part 9

The largest, mightiest living thing in the world, the blackoak tree holds a special place in Amazon tradition. The First Amazon emerged from a great forest of blackoaks and tamed the savages of the nearby plains. She taught them The Way, brought them strength against their enemies and later peace and prosperity to the land.

Their powerful longbows and sturdy shields were craft from the hearts of blackoak trunks.

The witch war that nearly snuffed out the Amazons was a victory with great loss. It is a horrible thing when Amazons die, but sadly it isn't a rare event. Amazons lived that day, and Amazon life grew stronger and spread farther. Lost forever, though, was the art of working the blackoak wood with magic.

The First Amazons had no mage abilities. Spellbinders did not emerge until the Vizjerei wars, and until then, magic was despised. Even now, the Amazon relies little on her magery, and many use it not at all.

The making of the Blackoak Shields and Blackoak Bows, it is theorized, must have been through a holy channeling of the Mother Goddess' will. Or perhaps the innate druidical magic of nature was harnessed. Or perhaps the essence of the blackoak itself was somehow shaped at the right time or in the right conditions.

I believe it was the latter. In fact, I believe at that moment, the blackoak I was standing before was so filled with this magic, I could have made myself a Bow and Shield if I had the knowledge and skill. But both are lost to us.

Imagine the glory of finding a mighty weapon. A weapon you knew, as surely you know your name, was forged by one of your spiritual anscestors. A weapon wielded by generations of valiant warriors. A weapon that was one of the first to slay your mortal enemies.

I had felt this glory once before. As Defender, hunting in the halls of the cathedral, I stood against a fiery skeleton, rusted sword on its right side, and a Blackoak Shield on its left. The shield gave the undead no protection.

I remember lifting it the morning after my next Elevation. I wished with all my heart that my mother could see me stride from my campsite with a mighty sword at my side, the Blackoak Shield slung to my back, with all the confidence of an Amazon Warrior. I entertained thoughts of returning to Imlatishan in glory, but remembered my vow to become Heroine.

A rogue needs a mighty quest to become an Amazon. A Huntress needs to earn a bow. There is no weapon that inspires such awe in an Amazon as the Blackoak Bow.

It was the perfect solution.

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