"The Sacrifice" by Blair N. Woynarski

Tyffera took her place in formation with the infantrymen. She held her bronze shield, emblazoned with the crest of her tribe, and in the other hand her spear was at the ready. The same equipment was held by all the warriors in her line, while the archers took higher ground to the east, and the axemen steadied in the back, prepared to rush in as the second wave. They were all dressed simply in leather or wool skirts draped around their waists, stripped bare on the torso to display their tattoos.

The young warrioress was stiff and poised to strike once the enemy revealed itself. The markings on her told of the nine years she had spent fighting battle. The swirl which twisted around her eyebrow and toward her right ear had been given when she joined the ranks at age 16. The spearhead on her right hand had been placed there after a year of service; the spiral on her left breast represented five years; but the mark she was most proud of ran the length of her spine, given for her heroism in holding off a squad of Rooks and defending five wounded soldiers. She had many others for varying reason, all of them in green ink. This exhibited her position in the First Infantry. Black was reserved for archers, red for axemen, and blue was only for druids, which Tyffera could have seen.

She caught the sight of three Wolf tribesmen ascending the valley, and her captain sounded for attack. Tyffera charged with the others, the snake emblem on her shield glistening in the dawn. They hammered down on a squad of two-dozen men. Spears pierced and splintered and the skirmish was over before the fog could settle.

A breeze whisked in from the south, and the dewy grass shuddered. Silence choked them as moments swept past, spent staring at the company of Wolf soldiers on the valley floor. Both sides displayed palpable ambivalence as they held their spears in defense. Tyffera set her gaze and let shimmer a spark in her eye that showcased the reason she had followed the path into war. No druids stood in their force. Their sorcery was useless here. The heat of the moment demanded skill with the hands, not the tongue. The warrioress stayed focused, and sprang forth with the fury of a crashing wave when her captain gave the signal.

They engaged. The battle roared with electric fury as Tyffera charged another spearwielder. The wooden shaft splintered on her shield, and she countered with her own spear, catching him in the torso. She left the enemy form while she caught another from behind. The Snake warrioress caught glimpse of an archer poised to fire. She sidestepped just in time for the arrow to glance off her shield. Tyffera charged toward the offending archer, hoping to corner him in close combat. In her determination, another enemy lunged from beside, but was rent in the skull by an axe. Tyffera turned briefly to face a bearded member of her own tribe. An arrow sliced past her shoulder and into the axeman who had just saved her.

Tyffera sent her spear whizzing through the air and puncturing the chest of the archer. She sprinted toward the rock formation her enemy used as a vantage point, and sailed into the presence of a female archer, ducking behind a boulder. The archer attacked with her only close-range weapon, a billyclub. The Snake warrioress intercepted the blow with her shield, and hammered the other in the temple with her fist. As the Wolf archer stumbled back, stunned, Tyffera retrieved her spear from the corpse next to her, and pierced it into her foe. She climbed atop the boulder to enjoy her brief moment of triumph, only to be caught around the ankles by a bola. She fell forward and her spear clattered on the rock. She glared upward to see a Wolf warrior bear over her, who raised the blunt end of his spear and hammered it into the back of her head.

In the blackness, her mind drifted to memories of her childhood. It centred on 15 years ago, standing in a druidic shrine.

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The ten-year-old Tyffera shivered in the rain, her white dress damp and clinging to her skin. Her eyes darted around the shrine. The altar stood in the middle: a stone column two metres in diameter with three steps leading to it. Altars could be used for many things; at this shrine it was for sacrifices.

There would be a sacrifice, she had been told, but the lamb was, as yet, out of sight. What she did see were four elder druids standing in the each corner of the shrine. With her were five other girls her age, selected, like her, to witness this. Then, there was a robed and hooded woman off to the side. She had been standing motionless when Tyffera arrived, and hadn't changed in the 20 minutes since. The girl was getting uneasy, wondering when this would start. Clouds gathered overhead, and a crack of thunder quaked in the hills. The hooded druidess ventured towards her.

"I see you have been called to witness the sacrifice," she said. "It is a privilege. You are about to behold the majesty of the druids. You have the opportunity to be taken into training, as I'm sure you've been made aware. Remember that we will study how you conduct yourselves today. I'm sure that you are all talented, and one of you will serve us well."

Tyffera thought she had caught the druidess glance into her eyes for a prolonged period during that last sentence. She had seen the other's face, adorned with several blue swirls and markings. Time to examine these was limited, however, as the women stood and returned to her previous position.

The four elder druids began to undulate around the altar patiently. They chanted incantations, sounding vaguely like the language Tyffera spoke, but with a definite intimidating inflection to it. Their speech and walking grew faster, and thunder roared closer and more frequently. After a little over a minute, a lightning bolt knifed down onto the altar, splitting into four arcs of electricity striking each of the druids. Tyffera did naught but stare in astonishment as the druids remained, not only uninjured, but somehow empowered. A steely-bearded druid, foremost in the formation (and presumably the eldest) spoke:

"We have called upon the goddess Tessenia, and she grants us the magic of the storm. It is now time for the sacrifice, in which we shall exchange gifts between earth and divinity."

The druidess stepped forward. She cast off her robe and stood nude in front of the altar. The magnificent tattoos that had adorned her face in fact spread across her entire body. Her skin was a canvas of an incredible artwork. Soldiers never had tattoos inked below their waist, but hers spread down to her feet. She circled around to the back of the altar and ascended the stairs.

She addressed Tyffera and the other girls. "I was once standing there like you. Now, fifteen years hence I am on the altar, prepared to reveal the majesty of the druids." She crouched and picked up a knife from the altar surface. The blade wasn't lustrous at all, but rather looked stained with something. "This knife has been stained with the blood of our enemies: the Crow, the Wolf, and the Bear. I hold the glory of the Snake tribe, and this is the tool for today's sacrifice." Tyffera still couldn't see the lamb. "We give to Tessenia, and she will reward our faith. Power, not attainable on the battlefield. It comes from the mind; the soul. Divine power. And it shall be received." She knelt upon the polished stone of the altar. Tyffera had not even the chance to speculate what was happening before the druidess took the knife in both hands and stabbed it into her own heart. Her eyes widened and she gave a pained gasp, then collapsed and fell from the altar. Tyffera screamed.

"No!" she yelled. "Not that. I don't want ... I don't want that!" She sobbed and shook; the eldest druid stepped towards her and held her in his arms. She continued to sob. "How could she do that?! I don't want ... to be a ... druid." She spat the word out.

The druid stared back into her eyes. "It is your choice whether to continue. You have the option of turning back. Not everyone will understand the druid way."

She had run back to the village swifter than a horse. She would never venture into a world that required she sacrifice herself, but now she was about to be sacrificed by the enemy.

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Tyffera regained consciousness to feel herself being dragged across the dirt. She fought titanic grogginess and opened her eyes. What she saw was a Wolf encampment. Tents were scattered around, along with weapon racks, and guards were posted along the perimeter. Two Wolf warriors were picking her up off the ground and standing her against a large wooden post. Without the strength to fight back, she felt them rip the leather skirt from her waist. Coarse ropes dug into her waist and shoulders as she was tied against the pinewood beam. A man who appeared to be a Wolf druid stood by a bonfire chanting something indiscernible. Several other men approached from behind and lowered the beam to a horizontal position. Tyffera stared upwards at the giant blade suspended over her. It was attached to a rope-and-pulley apparatus, and it appeared to be prepared to drop. Given that the length of the blade was approximately from her groin to her head, it took very little time to understand what was about to happen to her.

Tyffera craned her neck forward to see the enemy druid still chanting. "To you, lord Aërxus, we give this Snake sacrifice. She is a warrior who we give to you. May you feed on her strength and return to us your holy favour. Release the blade."

The Snake warrioress shot her gaze upward to see a man on the apparatus pull a lever. There was a brief creaking and then nothing. Tyffera glanced around, uncertain what they would do.

"It won't drop!" the man called.

"Fix it!" the druid retorted.

Tyffera heard what sounded vaguely like a whisper resonate in her ear. She dismissed it, more concerned with her present situation. Then, she felt the unmistakable feel of a hand caress her cheek. She snapped her head around, but saw no one. Though there was clearly no person next to her, the caress continued past her shoulders. When this happened, the ropes loosened and split, falling on the dirt. The caress moved down her torso to her waist, and those ropes fell apart like the others. It seemed that no one had noticed, so Tyffera threw her leg over the side and rolled onto the ground. A guard sprang forward immediately, sword drawn. She leapt forward and rammed his torso with her shoulder. In his moment of stupefaction, she wrested the sword from his grasp and plunged it into his chest. Then the druid caught her from behind. He couldn't kill the sacrifice, so he resorted to wrapping his right arm in a choke-hold around her neck, hoping to incapacitate her. Tyffera reached her hand into his robes and locked her grip on a knife at his waist. She unsheathed it and drove it into his stomach. The druid staggered backwards once she tore knife from his body.

All nearby guards had witnessed the incident and were charging on her. She knew she could never fight them all. It seemed today was her day to die. She poised herself in an imposing manner, shaking off the perceived vulnerability of a young woman standing naked in the cold. As thunder cracked over head, she shook the excess drops of blood from the blade onto the dirt. She stared momentarily at the blade that was her only defense. A voice whispered in her ear:

It has been stained with the blood of the enemy. You know what must be done. Your life as a human warrior is no more. Do what you know you must.

She felt no hesitation and no misgivings. When the Wolf soldiers were nearly a spear's length away, Tyferra knelt down and pierced the blade into her heart.

She could feel a rope tightening on her insides. It grew tighter and tighter, constricting her body into an infinitesimal speck, and then the feeling was gone. Tyffera collapsed on the ground.

Suddenly, she felt lighter. She rose up, looking upon the terrified and astonished faces of the enemy guards. She dared not look back at her corpse. She could only go forward. She glanced at her skin, which was now silver and shining. It was all clear. 15 years earlier, terror had overtook her, and she was unable to see the majesty of the druids. Now she was that majesty.

Tyffera raised her arms, and a shockwave of light struck at the half-dozen soldiers who had been prepared to attack. Within a second, they had all dropped their weapons and collapsed. She went forward, finding at least ten other members of her tribe, tied up, possibly waiting to be sacrificed. She sent a ray of light forward which washed over them and released their binds. The dumbfounded guards around them were struck simultaneously by arcs of lightning, lancing from her fingertips. She raised her arms and sent the lightning crashing down upon the enemy weapon deposits, tents, and the sacrificial blade. She bade her own tribesmen to go free back to the village.

Soon, she was alone. A lightning bolt arced downward and left in its wake the druidess from Tyffera's past. She held out her hand, and the erstwhile warrioress took it. The two of them sailed skyward, toward the majesty of the druids.