The Last Warrior

Pale sunlight poured in through the open tent flap, shining down on Cahira’s face. She opened her eyes, stretching, and then slipping from her bed. Of course, she was alone as it had been for many years.

Cahila was now fifteen, a full grown woman in her tribe’s words. If they had been here, there would have been a celebration, but sadly they were all slaughtered in the Last Battle of the Amazons.

That’s what they called it. People recognized the last battle either, “The Last Battle of the Amazons,” or “Fall of the Amazons.” The battle with the half God, Hercules, was the last battle.

Of course, he wasn’t “half” anymore. Last Cahira had heard, he had burned his human flesh and went to live with his father on Mount Olympus.

Anger rushed through her.

How could people think he’s a hero? He murdered my family.

She felt her palms begin to bleed as her nails dug through her skin. Releasing pressure, she stared at her bloodied hands a moment.

I could keep my race alive, she thought distantly. If only I would just…

No, I won’t until I’ve killed him with my own hands.

She cleaned her palms and dragged herself to the chest opposite the tent. The smell of summer swept through the open tent flap, mingling around her face, but then being carried off by the warm breeze as she bent to open the chest. Pulling out her mother’s armor, she hugged it to her chest. The armor she wore before she died.

Just the feel of it sparked up Cahira’s memories like a rush of winter water. She and mother would train in the center of camp, even though she was less then four feet. Her mother gave her a wooden dagger and told her she couldn’t use a real one until a couple of years.

“But—but mom!” She would whine.

Mother gave her a disapproving glare, but softened a moment after. She’s just a kid, she would constantly remind herself. “It’s not too far ‘long.”

Cahira huffed, but got in her battle stance.

The small girl took the first lunge, and Queen Hyppolyte moved to the side. The little girl had been sure she would get her mother, so she had put all her force into her first lunge.

“Whoa!” Her feet rocked like a ship on a stormy sea, and then she fell to the ground, her face grounding into the dirt.

Antandre had been watching from under a giant oak’s shade, munching on a peach that she had taken from the pile. She laughed after she swallowed a mouthful, her pale skin turning pink, and her brown bangs bouncing with each breath.

“What are you laughing at?” Cahira got to her feet, wiping dust off her armor. Since she was so young, she wore just leather. No gold or silver like the older warriors.

“Oh…” Antandre held her stomach, trying to stop herself. “I…I’m sorry.” She just laughed more.

Mother was laughing, too. “Okay,” She said. “Maybe we should continue this later.” She ruffled Cahira’s hair, and sat at the old oak tree with her life-long friend.

Cahira stood, holding the armor out in front of her. After slipping it on, she wasn’t surprised in the least that it fit. It had been her mother’s. The Queen’s.

Stepping out of her tent, she glanced about the empty camp grounds. I should’ve moved out a long time ago, she thought miserably. This place still reeks with the scent of aged blood, even after so many years.

She grabbed her sword and put it in its sheath, then grabbed her bow and arrows. Walking out of the camp entrance, she took one wistful glance behind her before disappearing into the trees.



Go to the water…go to the water!

Cahira jerked around for the third of fourth time. “Who’s there?!” She shouted into the mists, but there was no reply at first. She grabbed her small dagger and gripped it in her fist.

The water…go to the water!

The whispers were rushed, female voices. Many of them.

Cahira backed away a few paces, but the voices seemed to be coming from all around her. “Who…” She whispered, looking for the source once more.

Then she jerked away, dashing through the trees and away from the clearing. Fog hung in the air around her knees, dispersing as she ran. The trees raced past her, but the whispers continued. The water. Why would it want her to go to the water?

She came to a jerking halt at the edge of a creek bed. Any further and she would’ve dove in. Her heels scraped against the damp ground.

The water, she thought. Well, as long as I’m here, what do you want?

She glared sharp eyes at the water, but then it…started moving.

Small ripples on the delicate surface began to move, getting larger and larger. It kept going for moments longer, and with each moment, Cahira’s mouth gaped farther.

A watery figure began to emerge from the surface. Yes, a figure made of water itself. It looked as if it’s very being was sucking up water to maintain it’s—her—form. She recognized these. One of the most common creatures she knew—these were water nymphs.

The nymph rose above the water, the rest of her body disappearing below the waist. Cahira stared wide-eyed. Though nymphs were common, she had never been this close to one.

“Daughter…” The water creature mumbled incoherently. Her watery eyes searching, and finally meeting Cahira’s gaze. Her large—watery—lips pouted out, and every structure of her was finely shaped by the water. She was beautiful.

“Wh-what?” Cahira said, still startled.

“Daughter of the Amazon women. You are the last, aren’t you?” She asked, tilting her head to the side.

Cahira gaped. How could this creature know her?

But then again, she lived by this river her whole life. This nymph had probably watched as she grew up. Watched all the Amazon’s grow up. Probably even seen the Fall of the Amazon’s.

Cahira nodded frantically.

“Cahira.” The nymph stated.

“Cahira.”

“I have a gift for you, Cahira.” The nymph’s voice was formal, sounding like the rush of the river with every word.

“A…a gift?”

The nymph nodded once, and picked a handful of water in her delegate hands. No water dripped from her palms.

Then, the water began to float in a string into the air, taking form of something incomprehensible. “When the Fall of the Amazon’s ended, Hercules came to my river. He and his crew washed their swords in my water.” She stared at the changing water in the air, then turned her stare to the Amazon warrior knelt by the creek.

“When he cleansed his sword, he washed away the last of your mother’s blood.”

Cahira’s eyes watered. “What do you know of my mother?” Her voice shook, but her face remained hard.

“Her blood—” The water in the air began to materialize into a solid object. First, a silver chain became. “…will give you strength.”

“Her blood—” A small glass vessel materialized, enlaced in an iron vine—“…will give you bravery.”

“Her blood will give you her.” She placed it in her hand, and as soon as the glass met her skin, blood filled it, still warm, and pulsating with life.

Cahira gazed at the nymph as her figure fell, the water splashing back down into the creek.

Confidence swept through her. If the nymph believed she could kill him, she could, couldn’t she? But, she had to find the answer that had been hammering into her all her life.

How do you kill a god?