The life of Azah, the warrior maiden

[Lief Erikson]

*This story is quite different from any of the others I've posted here. I really am fond of myth, so I wrote one to please myself. I'll be writing more, though I probably won't post them here. Critical comments for this story are very welcome. I hope that those who read it enjoy it.*


The life of Azah, the warrior maiden

This is the tale of the birth of Athor Atardii, Guardian of the Elvion Triangle, Blue Rider, Lord of Elerev. The birth of he who smashed the might of the dark world of Visal, brought paradise to the land of Stikalth and imprisoned the Fierce Ones Ca-Ashor and Fade. His exploits and valiant deeds cannot all be recounted. His hideous failings marred the surface of the world. His pride, cruelty and madness are things of legend, but they cannot banish the glories of the man who led the world Erinosad out of its early days of night and into a morning sun that was to shine upon the world for centuries.



The one who was to become famous as Athor’s mother was named Azah Melek. Her golden hair was like a haystack, flowing down to her feet and bushy as a tree trunk. Her eyebrows were large and also bushy. She wore the green hide of a dragon she had slain to cover her body, though the garment did not cover her left breast. She was more proud then the greatest king, more fierce then a cornered bear. She moved like a monkey, hopping from place to place, capable of moving through trees more easily then over land (her hair knew better then to let itself become snagged).

Azah’s weapons she had fashioned with her own hands. The most dangerous of these was a whip formed from the unbreaking flesh torn from the bowels the body of the dragon she’d slain. All over this tongue of flesh were embedded the teeth from the dragon’s jaws, each as long as a sword hilt and as sharp as the keenest blade. Her other weapons included short throwing spears that she had fashioned of wood and stone. All of these weapons she had written upon with runes, the hidden words of magic that were then known to many, and which lent power, spirit and a limited understanding to those things upon which they were inscribed.

Azah’s face was hard and fair, her eyes black as deepest coal. Those who looked upon her feared her. She had slain many of those that in the past had loved her dearly, and had turned in hatred upon the nations that had once embraced her as one of their greatest. She had allied herself with barbarian tribes to fight them. The barbarians attempted to ravage her while she slept, yet she in a single engagement slew thirty of them. Following this they respected her, and followed her warily into battle.

The newborn nation of Elerev, protected by the Rainbow Order was Azah’s most hated foe. The nation had come from a wild people that were harried hither and thither by the god Brell they worshipped. When they turned to any god other then him, he jealously smote them with a thousand ailments, or brought forth other tribes to wreak destruction on them. Finally he had established them in their own country. Their leader had once been the most cowardly of men. He was a warrior named Tirdin, whom Azah had known well and despised. He fled whenever attacked and would not protect his own family when they were endangered. Finally he had pled for Brell’s help, and fifty years later he came back from the hidden place to which Brell took him. He was transformed, his name no longer Tirdin but Abinrav, and he showed the Elerevians their homeland. He established the capital of his people’s new country at a city called Delener, and he proclaimed the nation of Elerev.

Azah had been born a part of this nation. She had come to hate them though, because they mocked and sought to reform her from her wild forest ways. She slew those that came after her to change her, and then those that came after next came to kill her. From them she fled, for at that time she was not yet ready.

When she learned of the horrors a wicked dragon was wreaking upon the native peoples of a land nearby her, she determined to make herself a new home. She gave presents of food caught from the wild to the people, and then she set upon the dragon and killed it (It was then that she fashioned her whip). When these people, though grateful, refused to accept her as their Guardian Goddess, she spat in the faces of their leaders, slew them when they sought to punish her, and left the survivors to find her own way again.

By then most of those living in those parts hated her. An archer from Elerev shot her in the foot with an arrow when he saw her climbing a tree, and it was at that time that she realized she needed throwing spears. His aim was true, and ever after that one of her feet was lame. This was a serious disadvantage, for never again could she run and leap so fleetingly as was her wont, except over short distances.

In fury because of her wounded foot, Azah gathered the barbarian enemies of Elerev. She brought them against the nation, determined to crush it out of existence. Abinrav and his forces smashed her army, and his one remaining daughter, Sihona, pursued Azah into the woods.

Azah could not escape, for Sihona was more fleet then the wind and was learning the power of a shape-shifter. Her throwing spears, which never before had missed a target, flew wild as the wood itself turned from loyalty to Azah to favor Sihona.

“You have betrayed me!” Azah screamed in despair at the wild lands of Elerev that once had been her home and closest friend. “You have turned me over to death!”

She drew her whip and leapt high, into the topmost branches of a tree. With the teeth of the dead dragon she smashed the treacherous boughs and branches, cleaving herself an open path with which to strike at Sihona.

Sihona came at Azah with her curved sword and battled her amongst the tree tops. Sihona’s blade was silver merged with magic, burned together and engraved with runes from the high realms of the air. More keen and fearsome a blade even then Azah’s whip, it met the thrashing dragon thread evenly. Sihona danced about the lame Azah, who found herself hard pressed to keep up with the swift and lethal assailant. Sihona had become more skilled then most warriors ever had been. Her power raged about her, the tempests of the air buffeted her opponents, the blades of grass uprooted themselves and flew in Azah’s eyes. Sword met with whip and proved the stronger. It finally burst the length of Azah’s weapon.

Her long black hair swirling about her beautiful, pale face, Sihona slashed inward and severed Azah’s unarmored left leg completely. Azah fell but not far. The wind seized her and held her where she was, pinioned and at Sihona’s mercy. Sihona’s deep blue eyes looked into Azah’s black, hate filled ones. Sihona raised her sword to strike.

Yet suddenly, above Sihona’s head the sky turned purple and red. Tongues of lightning flashed from the heavens and surrounded Azah like seven arms. They plucked her wounded body easily from the wind’s hands and bore it away. A spirit of magic and power had claimed her as its own. Sihona could not hope to defeat this beast, though with the glorious weapon Brell had given him, her father might have done so.

The creature was like a brilliant torch in the sky. It had six heads and twenty arms. It was a giant, as large as a hill. Purple and gold flames roared from its mouth and burned from its body. The thing needed no weapon, for fire consumed whatever he directed it to strike.

The creature bore Azah aloft into the air, and she remained still, a maimed being, powerless and weaponless before its might.