Part 13

After I could stand, I called forth a portal and visited the smith. I would need arrows, and the trip to my campsite would be unbearably long.

I descended into the maw behind Pepin's house, still unarmored, with the bow strapped to my back.

Bloodstars flew almost immediately. Snow witches and succubi, by the color of the magic. My new bow was for them, bare hands and feet for the golden vipers. I found the stairs to a lower level and went there without searching the rest of the first. There would be plenty opportunity later.

Maelstroms and more of the snakes - I unstrung and secured the bow. Fangskin, a painful reminder of the last time I visited this place, had returned. Twice I was sent back to town licking my wounds, but great gold viper again fell. Then, another stairway.

No unbridled rage this time. Instinct and fury, tempered by discipline and caution, stalked the halls of Lazarus. I was death. Azure drakes and doom guards met my advance, and were formidable only in groups. I made my way as directly as possible for the northern corner. I had hope that Lazarus had retaken his old residence.

I noticed an eerie glow in the distance, beyond the edge of the gloom. I strung the Blackoak. Bloodlust never saw her attacker.

As I approached the outer walls of Lazarus' room, I felt my prey in the same place they were so many moons before.

It was the first time in history where the witch queens fell a second time to the arrows of the same Amazon Huntress.

I knew the moment I could read the enchantment on the Blackoak Bow that I was Amazon, had always been Amazon. The struggle was great, the quest worthy, and the fact that my spirit had returned to me with unimaginable strength only held up my confidence. Would there be an Omen this night?

Would there be a new Amazon Heroine?

Yes. 'This is how well the Amazon knows her path.'

Part 14

Honor is a difficult thing to define. How it is assessed is entirely subjective. One's self is honorable if she conducts herself according to her definition of honor. In the eyes of an observer, she is honorable only if she acts according to the observer's ideal of honor. To discuss it first requires a common understanding.

Within the context of Amazon society, honor is absolute. It is a clear idea, since every woman shares the same understanding. But is it a complete understanding?

The Explorers who leave Imlatishan every year know much of honor. But they are still children, with much more to learn. Only by meeting challenges, struggling through harsh times, and defeating worthy foes does one learn of true honor. My idea of honor has changed much.

I have many times spoke of my 'heart', my 'soul', my 'spirit', and even my 'Amazon spirit'. I believe these are all the same metaphysical thing, the source of my power, and its nourishment is honor.

Honor flows into us from deeds done and worthy foes dispatched. It replenishes the spirit. Honor leaves us in wrongdoing. With no source of honor in our lives, the spirit devours what stores we have and is left wanting. It weakens. Without honor, the spirit thing wanes, the Amazon becomes depressed, even dead inside. But in starvation this thing struggles harder, even taking control. Fresh honor returns it stronger than before.

When full of honor, the Amazon is alive. Her limits expand beyond human norms, her eagerness and energy know no bounds, her laughter and pain and joy and sorrow are greater, more deeply felt. Her blows are sharper, her arrows truer, and her mind is keener, more aware. Her spirit and mind are one.

That's my notion, at least. It answers many of the questions I've left behind. The moment I took up the quest of the Huntress twenty moons ago, armed with an unworthy weapon, my honor flowed out. The spirit, already so hungry for victory against the witches, was suddenly starved and reacted furiously. My mind closed, unable to contain the rage, and was forced down while the spirit took over with fury. It fed and fed and fed until it could overcome the loss my mistake had caused.

In the Heroine Elevation ritual that night, when I mentally realized my disgrace, I failed to notice something. My spirit didn't react. It already knew, and had already corrected for its loss. It was probably quite sated by the witch battle, though my mind could recall none of it. In fact, my reaction that night was likely intensified because my spirit was full!

And during my search for the Blackoak Bow, when I had lost faith completely, surely my spirit was empty. I was virtually undead. The challenge wasn't something to overcome in the dungeon - it wasn't so simple. The challenge was to persevere in spite of no challenges in the dungeon. A most honorable quest, with no honor to sustain me on the path!

Finally, when I had learned in mind and spirit that the bow I had found was a Blackoak, I was instantly fullfilled. My spirit fattened while the anguish of the past mixed with the joy of the accomplishment in my mind and I felt emotion like I'd never felt before.

Many have my experiences been with honor. Looking back, I see now the folly of my actions. I should have realized my bow wasn't right for the Huntress quest. If not from the bow itself, or the midnight star's position, then certainly from the rage that overtook me. I should have dropped the bow straight away and went after a new one. Once earned in battle, it should have been carried right back to Hell and the quest repeated.

Aiyah, the Khandurs have a wonderful saying, 'behind is clear but forward clouded'. I cannot fault myself for choosing the wrong course when the correct path was not so obvious, when my understanding of honor was not so certain. And I am not so sure I would have preferred such a course. Certainly, I have brought shame upon my tribe, and I am somehow diminished by my shame. But I have recovered, far stronger than before, far stronger than I'd ever imagined.

Last night rose a new Heroine. Today we will see what sort of honor this Diablo fiend will bring to her spirit.

Tonight there may be a new Matriarch.

Denari V'Imlatishan
The Blackoak Raven

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