Weakness

Weakness is a Tyme story by Terri Pray.

Artwork by Samuel Pray, created using Daz 3D, Photoshop and Filter Forge.

It was out there, she could feel it, feel the tug that worked its way into her chest and wrapped around her heart. Jada pressed one hand over her heart and closed her eyes for a moment. All she had to do was take a step and she’d feel the pull that told her which direction she would have to move, where her feet would need to place themselves in order to begin her journey.

Then stay, don’t go, don’t leave. They need me.

They would always need her but she was doing this for them, for all of them. Not just her own family but everyone else. Yet she had been the one it had reached out to. Her. A no one. Not even a warrior. Useless according to those sworn to the way of the warrior.

Weak.

Yes, she’d been called that more times than she wanted to think about. Weak and helpless, yet she was alive, she had children and she’d survived the invasion, even if she had done so without her mate standing by her side.

She swallowed and tried to clear the lump from her throat. The pressure, the summons remained, something she couldn’t and wouldn’t ignore. It called to her and she had to answer, to see what was on the other end of that call before it was too late. She wiped her hands down against her leggings before she turned to look at the door. No, it wasn’t time yet. She could still enjoy the company of her sleeping children.

The thought drew her attention and she looked down at the two cradles but kept her distance from both, at least for now. By the gods, she wanted to touch and hold her children. They were hers, her lifeline in this place, on this world. The proof of her right to exist even if she would never be accepted by the majority of her people. 

Without worth. Wasn’t that how they viewed her? Nothing but a breeder and one that even her mate had chosen to abandon in search of someone more suitable, at least that is what she had been told.

The damned man hadn’t even had the guts to speak to her before he’d vanished into the night, something she would never have thought him capable of doing until the morning she’d woken to find herself alone in their shared bed.

Odd.

What had changed between them that he had found it so needful to leave or had something else happened? If so, who held the answers?

My sister?

She shuddered at the thought and closed her eyes. Could it be that her sister was behind the loss of Jada’s mate? That her jealousy or her lack of understanding as to why a warrior male would choose her, had led to her mate’s disappearance? If that were the case then she would never know the truth, unless her mate was alive and returned to her.

Dead, he must be dead. That would be the only reason he would not return to see the birth of his children. Our children.

He’d vanished when she’d discovered she was pregnant and the loss of his presence in her life had been… painful. It would always hurt, she was woman enough to admit that. Yet it didn’t change the pain when she looked at her children and understood they would never know their father. Now she would leave them to follow a dream, an idea and what would that do to her babies?

Was this a foolish idea? Was she doing the right thing in leaving her children tonight in search of — of what? A dream? A legend? Something that might not even exist? What if she never returned?

She took a step toward the first cradle and leaned in. It didn’t matter if she failed to return, she had to try. Even if she failed, she would have at least proved that she wasn’t a coward, that she would never step down when she was called, when she was needed. Her children would be safe, she had the paperwork in place that would prevent her sister from claiming them and they would have the right to choose her own path, even leave Mars if they so wished, without interference from family members.

They would be free.

“Sleep little one. Sleep and know that I love you.” Jada smoothed a soft black curl back from the sleeping child’s eyes and let her fingers play over the lock for a moment before she tucked the quilt back in under his chin. She turned to the second bed in the room, her steps silent as she moved to the side and tucked her daughter in with the same care she had taken with her son. Neither child made a sound as she moved through the room instead their sleep remained undisturbed.

What was it like to sleep in such peace? To know, without doubt, that you were safe?

Had she ever enjoyed such rest when she had been a child? Had there been someone who had stood watch over her?

If there had, she had never been told of such things, nor was there one she could reach out to now in order to find out. The only one with any answer would be her sister and that was a woman who would never provide the information. Not unless it was something that would benefit the older woman. That was the nature of their relationship and had been for as long as Jada could remember.

She shook off the thought and slipped out of the room and pulled the door closed behind her in silence. She paused to listen, making sure that neither child had awoken with her exit and only then did she step away. They would sleep through the night, if the gods were kind, and they had done so for several months now.

A soft noise in the main room drew her attention and she forced a smile into place before turning to see the source. Tall, broad shouldered, with a slight scar on her left cheek, the woman stood there, leaning against the door frame. “They’re going to be soft, if you keep treating them like that. It’s not good for them, for any children to be raised like that. Too much love will weaken them. You know it’s not our way. Not the way of a warrior people. How can they be active members of the community if you continue to coddle them? No, you’re raising them to be nothing more than breeders, just like their mother.”

Jada folded her hands in front of her, refusing to let the tension she felt show in her stance. Love, a weakness? It wasn’t something she agreed with but the other woman was set in her ways. It wasn’t worth the fight. Jada took a deep breath and met the woman’s gaze, her voice calm but gentle and submissive. Anything else would start a fight, something she had no interest in, especially tonight. “So you’ve said, sister.”

The older woman snorted, nostrils flaring in disgust. “No fight in you, just like our mother. How you ever persuaded that man of yours to breed with you, is beyond me. Good warrior like that needed a stronger bed mate, one able to provide him with children to train in the arts. No, he picked you. Nothing more than a weakling, worthless to the rest of us.”

Jada kept silent.

“Not even the spirit to fight with words.” Megan spat and shook her head. “I’m ashamed to call you sister.”

“Would there be a point to it, Megan? Arguments would change nothing between us and I don’t recall the last time you named me as your sister to someone outside of this house.” Jada cursed herself for speaking but it was too late, once spoken the words could not be taken back. She clasped her hands before her and half bowed her head. Submissive, meek, those were the things she had to remember around her sister, at least if she wanted to leave and follow the signal that even now tugged on her heart and pulled her toward the mountains. “Forgive me, but I am needed at the temple tonight. I have given my word and I would not wish to let anyone down.”

“And you expect me to listen out for your brats, is that it?” Megan took a step toward her, one hand resting on her weapons belt, a breath away from the butt of her blaster.

“No, of course not. I would not ask you to lower yourself to the duties of child care.” Jada dropped her gaze once more. The very idea of letting Megan watch the children sickened her. Who knows what her sister would do to them in the name of toughing them up? “Lynda is here.” At least she had been only a few moments ago. Had the girl left when Megan had arrived?

“Watching brats is all that blasted girl is good for. I don’t know why we ever abandoned the old traditions. That one should have been left out on the slopes instead being allowed to live and weaken the bloodlines even further.” Megan turned, stalking her way through the house toward the kitchen. Her voice carried back, snatches of sentences, but it was plain that she didn’t expect a reply. “We lost much when we turned our back on the old ways.”

Jada sighed, peering after her sister. Only when she was certain that the older woman planned on grabbing a bite to eat, no doubt from the food Jada had prepared earlier in the day, and then vanishing for the night, did Jada then slip back into her own bedroom. There, perched on the narrow bed, a blond haired teenager waited, eyes wide as she looked from Jada to the door and back again.

“She won’t come in here and once she’s eaten, she’ll be gone for the night.” Jada explained, her voice pitched low. “She doesn’t want to be here, not relegated to the task of childcare.” Jada softened her words with a warm smile.

Lynda nodded, but said nothing, tears shining within her pale blue eyes. Her fingers tangled on her lap and she lowered her head as a soft tremble rn through her body. Every inch of Jada cried out with the need to hold Lynda and tell her she would be safe.

“You’ll be safe. Her words… they’re just that, words. She won’t strike you, not in my house.” Words. They were still a weapon, but one that Megan used with brute force rather than a delicate touch. Everything about Megan was like that. She stalked, stomped, lashed out, snapped, never stopping to apologize. At least, not to anyone of lower rank and as far as her sister was concerned, anyone unfit to be a warrior would always be of a lower rank. “Stay here, if you want. She never comes into my room. There’s nothing here that interests her and you will be able to access the children’s room from here.” Megan wouldn’t remain that long, no it wasn’t in her nature, yet Jada could understand Lynda’s concerns.

The teen offered a thin smile but nodded, lifting her right hand to scuff away a stray tear, the left arm, which ended just above the elbow, remained pressed against her side. “I know, I know you would never leave me where she could hurt me but…” she lifted the damaged arm, “she thinks I’m a waste of resources. She goes out of her way to say so about me or any others like me. We’re weak, worthless, a drain on the people and planet.”

“By the gods, you’re not any of those things.” Yet she’d heard the words herself. “She doesn’t see the beauty you create or the way children listen to you.”

“No, she sees this and believes that I will help raise children who will accept deformities without question.”

“And is that a bad thing?” Jada arched an eyebrow.

“Not to me, but those like Megan, they disagree.” Lynda lowered her gaze once more.

Gods alone knew she wanted to stay and reassure Lynda but the tug grew with each passing moment. She glanced at the door and then back at Lynda. Jada squeezed her shoulder. “If I could stay, I would but…”

“I know, I’ll be fine, really I will. You’re right, she won’t come in here and she’ll leave soon enough. She always has before.”

Courage, one of the things the warriors prized yet how many of them had looked at Lynda and dismissed her? Jada closed her eyes for a moment and settled her thoughts. If she returned then perhaps things would change? Perhaps there would be a better life for those like herself and Lynda? There was only one way to find out and in doing so she would prove to herself, if no one else, that she was far from weak. “I’ll be back as quick as I can. There’s food in the kitchen, three days of meals just in case, but I should be back before dawn.” At least, that was the plan, how well it would all work out was another matter entirely…

To Be continued next week. 

Whispers

Whispers is an Erien Tale short story by Terri Pray, a prequel to Broken which is now free via Kindle Unlimited. 

Artwork by Samuel Pray, created using Daz3D, Photoshop and Filter Forge. 

“Can’t you hear it?” Leanna twisted on the fallen log, nibbling on her bottom lip.

“No, nor should you listen to such things, child.” Her mother didn’t look at her, but continued to work on the mending she held in her lap. “Such things are a danger to us.”

Leanna pouted and reached for her staff. She knew where this would lead, the same place it had every time it had before in her eight short years but she had to try. “You hear it. I know you do. Why do you say you don’t, when I can…” she paused, trying to find the right words, “feel it.”

With a sigh her mother looked down at the mending, folded the tunic and set it into the basket. “You’ve asked this before.”

“Yes, but I’m older now, I should know, don’t you think?” She rose, leaning on the staff. The smooth golden wood was her life line, she could move without it, but at a far slower pace. Even with the staff she couldn’t run and play with the other children in the rare times that her mother took her down into the village. “My life is here, with you, momma but I need to understand what is going on, why they hate me, why the adults turn their back on me, I have to…”

“Enough, fine, maybe it is time after all.” Her mother sighed, folding her hands in her lap before she closed her eyes. “It’s something… it’s your leg.”

She looked down at her leg and scowled. “It’s just a leg.”

“Yes, it is. They, however, are afraid of what it might mean.” The older woman rose, taking a step away from the crude wooden bench. Light played over her mothers long, spiral, midnight locks. Dark skin gleamed in the sunlight, a smile pulled on her full lips, yet sorrow shone within her mother’s dark brown eyes. “They see your leg as a sign that I displeased the gods, or consorted with evil magic in order to gain a child.” Her mother looked away, letting her gaze move over the slope and down to the village nestled within the valley. “They didn’t know your father, they never saw what we shared or the love that built between us. They only saw the result of that love. You.”

Leanna leaned on the staff, then turned and walked a dozen steps away. Pain wrapped itself around her heart, a band so tight and jagged that her breath caught in her throat. She rubbed one hand over the center of her chest, vision blurring as she blinked away tears.

You are more than this, more than a crying child.

“It hurts,” she murmured, not turning to look back at her mother.

“Yes, it will, and that won’t go away anytime soon, my love. Not unless I find a way to cure your leg, but no magic I’ve found has… not even the two healers I spoke to knew how to give you a straight limb.”

She lies, but to protect you. There is one way, but she will not expose you to the dangers of such magic. The voice, soft, female, and protective, continued to explain.

“There is something, momma.” Leanne turned, resting on her staff. “The lady told me.”

Her mother’s eyes widened, color draining despite her dark complexion. Her tongue darted out, nervously swiping over her lips before she spoke. “Lady?”

“The one who whispers to me, momma.” She nodded toward the trees behind their small home. “She said there was a way, but it was dangerous.”

“Very and the cost to you is too high.”

She is right, young one. It is a dangerous magic, called black by some, blood by others and it would cost you your soul.

“She should not be speaking to you of such things, not when it is my duty to teach and protect you.” Her mother sighed and pressed her fingers to her temple.

Leanna frowned, taking in the changes to her mother’s appearance. Lines had formed at the corners of her eyes, small spiderweb lines traced out from beneath her lips but it was the touches of silver in her hair that were the hardest to accept. Had protecting her, caused the silver in her mother's hair?

“Did you hear me, Leanna?”

She blinked, pushing back the unwanted thoughts. “Yes, momma.”

She worries, she fears she misjudged my intentions when I first reached out to her. She does not recall the stories passed down to her. That I have always watched over the women of your line.

How many mothers and daughters, aunts and sisters had the spirit called out to? “Do you not remember the lady, momma? How she helped you to learn?”

Her mother shivered, eyes closing for a moment. “I remember what my uncle did when I spoke of the spirit.”

Leanna leaned on the staff as she moved towards her mother. “I don't understand.”

Dark eyes blinked, a single tear traced a path down her cheek. “And I pray you never do, sweetling.”

He had no magic. He grew jealous of your mother and her gifts. He tried to steal her power, tried to force her to use her gifts at his command when he was unable to take them for himself. But there are parts to the story that are your mother’s alone to speak of when and if she is ready to do so.

Leanna shifted her weight, leaning heavily on her staff. What had her mother been through? She had never spoken of a brother, nor any other siblings for that matter. “Mamma, it’s alright. Please, the lady is trying to help me. She doesn’t want to hurt me.”

“I know she doesn’t my love, I remember her.” Her mother sighed, wiping the trace of a tear from her cheeks. “She was good to me, when I was able to listen to her, but that was a long time ago, and so much has…” her voice trailed off, gaze narrowing. “Inside, now.” She moved in between Leanna and the path that led up from the village. “Go. Please.”

Leanna hesitated, her gaze drawn to the path. Figures approached at a rapid pace, dust lifting into the air obscuring their numbers. Fear wrapped itself around her heart, tightening in a band that choked her lungs and spilled acid into her mouth. She turned, leaning heavily on her staff, her twisted leg wracked by spasms as she took the first step.

Voices called out behind her, the words lost but even from this distance she could hear the anger that carried ahead of the small crowd.

“Run,” her mother called out.

Leanna tried, her need to escape building with each new beat of her heart. Whatever had brought the crowd, whoever had worked them up, she had a good idea who they were after. This wasn't the first time a group from the village had stormed their way up from the village, but this was the largest gang she'd seen.

Her bad leg complained as she drew closer to their small home. She winced, but didn’t make a sound, didn’t dare, not when it might distract her mother.

She knows what to do.

Leanna wanted to turn and look, to see what was about to happen, but she knew better.

Trust me. Trust her. You will be safe.

Safe, had she ever truly been safe? Leanna stumbled, only the staff saving her from hitting the ground, but she pushed back up, clearing the final few paces between herself and the small house. She reached out, scrambling to grab the handle. At first her fingers refused to close on the handle, but on the second grab she closed them around the metal handle. With a gasp she half pulled herself into the cabin, slamming the door behind her. Only then did she risk peering back, this time through a small window.

She caught her breath, leaning on the wooden frame, her face pressed to the bubbled glass. One of the last things she’d seen her mother create using magic. Despite the bubbles, the warped glass, she could see the crowd drawing closer to her mother, close enough now that she could make out individuals. Some she knew from the village, others were strangers or figures she’d only seen once or twice in passing.

The baker, a large man, one she had been fond of in those rare moments she’d been allowed to talk to others. He hadn’t been a cruel man, but kind, sometimes offering her a bite of a sweet piece, but now his face was red, angry, hands balled into fists at his sides. The others, a seamstress, some of the farmers, and craftsmen who had waved to her mother, all crowded around her, not touching her. At least not yet.

Voices carried, screams, yells, protests.

“Please, don’t hurt momma,” she murmured.

I won’t let them hurt her. She won’t let them hurt you either. Watch.

The whisper felt different. A hint of power, warmth and strength filtered through the words.

Her fingers tightened on the wood, eyes wide, Leanna was unable to look away, to focus on something else.

Light sparkled around her mother, small bubbles of it at first, dancing between her fingers as she stood there. Her lips moved, a soft sound, a word or two, but it wasn’t loud enough that Leanna could understand what was being said.

“Witch!”

The lights grew, a hundred and a hundred more, bubbles, sparkles that expanded, pushing back at the men and women around her mother. It flared, a violent explosion and Leanna pressed her hands against her eyes, sobbing as she looked away, tears spilling down her cheeks.

I told you to trust her.

Trembling she turned back to the window, searching for her mother. The crowd from the village had scattered, half of them sprawled out on the damp earth, the other half already running for safety, screams of witch left in their wake.

It’s time. Collect your things, and your mothers. You can’t stay here, not now.

The whispers, that soft voice, it had always been right, but once, just this once, she wanted it to be wrong.

You’ll be safe with me, your mother already knows that, safe within my forest…