Chapter 19
Clarke had been right. Ontari, Nia, and their entourage left two days after the fight. Clarke was still in her "guest" room. Echo had been coming to see her every morning with a paste that smelled like urine, but it took the sting out of the cuts on her face. It was also very remarkable in healing them, too. Her wounds that were just days old looked older. The bruising was fading and she wasn't as stiff.
She had spent the night of the fight cataloging her wounds. They weren't that many, and most of them weren't bad. Two Echo had sealed shut with a hot knife after refusing to listen to Clarke about stitching and sewing the would close. Echo had mumbled under her breath for quite some time as she worked on cleaning Clarke up and making sure that she wasn't going to die overnight. She'd kept plowing her with meats and a particular root vegetable that was only native to Azgeda. Funnily enough, it was called the warrior's root. Clarke didn't ask why but continued to eat like she was told.
Besides the obvious wounds to her face, she had relatively few cuts. Sure, her cheeks and lips were swollen. It hurt to chew for a few days and her lips were busted, but she could see. Ontari had stayed away from her eyes for the most part. There had been a stray hit to her right ear that left her a little more disoriented that she told Echo, but even that was subsiding. Clarke knew that she might have a concussion, but there was nothing that Echo could have done to help her in that regard. There were cuts up and down both arms. Most of them were shallow and didn't require much, but Echo was still worried about them. Clarke was more worried about an infection setting in than anything. The wounds would heal, but an infection would kill her from the inside.
The only wound that caused her any real grief was the nick to her throat. She didn't know it bothered her so much, but she knew that Ontari was sporting a similar one. Maybe it was because of how close she'd come to facing her mortality in this life, but she doubted it. She knew that her death would cause the cycle to start over again. Death in this life meant another chance to fix it all. She thought it was seeing the black blood rolling down her neck, but she shook that off. It wasn't the first time that she bled, nor was it the time she'd bled black.
It wasn't until she slept that night that she figure it out. She had a nightmare, but it wasn't really. She was remembering the time that she held Lexa with a knife to her throat. Every part of her body wanted to kill, but her mind told her not to because she understood why. It was a symbol of betrayal between the two of them. It was when she honestly felt the weight of being Wanheda for the first time. And, now, she was starting to wonder if she would ever be free of it. If they would ever be free of constantly trying to save their people from themselves. Her dreams gave her no more answers, though.
The next morning, she'd hobbled to go see Ontari. The other warrior didn't question her presence. She just let Clarke into her rooms again. There was also some sort of tea that Ontari had sent to her. If she hadn't already spoke with the other Night Blood, she would have been more worried about it. Echo was wary of her drinking it, but she could see how quickly Clarke was recovering. In response, Clarke gave Ontari the sword that she'd Huron make. She had to send Echo to go fetch it from the smithy, but she liked it. She could tell that Ontari was surprised by the gift.
"In days of old, the knights or warriors would name their blades," Clarke told her as she presented it more fully for her to see the craftsmanship.
"And, have you named this one?" Ontari asked her.
"It is not mine to name but yours," Clarke replied.
Ontari had nodded. She promised to name it and let Clarke know. Such a wonderful sword, no doubt needed a really good and badass name. She'd promised to give Clarke the name of this sword as soon as Clarke delivered her letters. When she'd returned to her bed that night, she found parchments and ink.
After the fight, Clarke was allowed to keep her armor in her rooms. It was a "gift" from Nia. She wasn't dead, so she'd take it. She knew that if Nia wanted her dead, she would be. But her retaining the armor that was made for her was strange. She didn't know why it would be important for her. She was also allowed to keep the dagger that Erie had made for her with the symbols of both Wanheda and their "resistance."
She was now armed and armored. She'd gained a few more areas of the palace to roam, and she'd even been allowed to into the market on her own. She'd just gone to Huron's shop once she remembered (she asked several people after getting way lost) how to get there. She would spend time with them watching them make more weapons and armor. She felt freer there with them than she had in the woods.
She missed nature, too. Instead of sparring and training, Echo took her on walks in the woods. Or, they went hunting. Echo was keeping her busy and out of the palace for most of the day. Clarke didn't ask why, but she figured there was a reason. Clarke wanted to think that it was better for her to be out in the wilderness than cooped up in the palace. The fresh air made her feel alive again, and seeing the areas past the village of Troi reminded her of the excitement she felt first stepping off the dropship. Everything was just so...colorful...different...vibrant in a way that it hadn't been during the winter.
"You're still favoring your right leg," Echo stated as they came upon a small stream and stopped.
"Well, you would be too if someone tried to hack it off and strached the hell out of it."
"I still don't understand your idioms, Klark. What would this hell be? And, why would they scratch it out?"
"Hell is concept from before the bombs. It was a final resting place by those that were deemed wicked by the gods. It was an eternity of fire, damnation, and suffering. They fought wars over the concept and who would be going there."
"If this hell is so bad, where did they want to go?"
"Heaven, a paradise without disease, famine or war. Supposedly only the righteous and most devout could go there. But, I think that I approve of your belief system better. On the Ark, we had nothing. In fact, religion wasn't banned, but it wasn't to be really practiced. It didn't stop the people though. We had one around a tree."
"A tree?"
"Yes, it was from Earth...um, here. Someone brought it up to the space stations before the bombs. It didn't produce fruit or any food. And, even though we knew it could help clean the air, it was only a small tree. It was from a land past the Plain Riders and across the ocean called Japan. There they had these little trees called Bonzai. So, we have this tree and some of the people would sacrifice drops of their water for this tree."
"Did you?"
"No, no one in my family did."
"Why not?"
"Because we believed...you know what? I really don't know. We believed in science and what could keep the Ark running. But, maybe the people that sacrificed for that tree had it right. Nature would save us. We just had to look to it," Clarke answered.
"But, you think that our ways are better in that respect?"
"I think that it is admirable that you release the souls of your dead in fire."
"Why?" Echo questioned.
"For one, it deals with the body. You aren't wasting land in burying like our ancestors did. It also helps to deal with diseases,...um, haknes, because the fire destroys the things that cause the sickness. You make sure to do it in the open. The smoke travels upwards to the sky. You believe that your ancestors are in a heaven of sorts, awaiting their rebirth. I came from the sky. And, the phrase: From the ashes, we will rise. It is a quite literal translation of this. In your belief system, there is birth, death, and rebirth. You believe that those that are destined for greatness or from greatness will be reborn to bring that greatness back when the people need it. You see how nature is in constant flux of birth, death, and rebirth, and adapted that to help those that needed it. It is poetic," Clarke explained. "It give meaning to the hard lives that have to led here on the ground, and it gives hope."
"Like in Wanheda," Echo added looking a little too smug for Clarke's happiness.
"Yes, I guess you could say that," Clarke replied.
Echo let the conversation lull for a moment. Clarke wasn't sure what Echo was thinking about. She figured that she was still worried about how things were going. Clarke was happy with it. She wasn't dead. She knew more about Nia and Azgeda. The only thing that she hated was that this was a research life. She'd be able to use everything that she learned, but she wanted more. She wanted to know that she was doing the right thing in each life. Unfortunately, she wouldn't know that until after Praifaya.
Suddenly, Echo pulled her off the little bit of warn path that they were on. Pulling Clarke down into the underbrush, Echo held her hand over Clarke's mouth so she couldn't question what was going on. Their eyes met, and like a well -paired team, Clarke understood what her fos was telling her. She nodded to Echo and waited for further instruction. Echo reached down and tapped her dagger on her right side. After Clarke drew it, she reached up for the sword on her back. They were in very light armor, barely more than leather, but Clarke still had on her vambraces and the pauldron. Echo slipped out from behind her to find a better position. Clarke nodded that she would stay there until told otherwise.
Five riders went by them quickly. Clarke hadn't even heard them coming, but she wasn't surprised that Echo had. Echo was a spy. She had to hear things. She needed to know things. She had to stay ahead of everyone. Clarke made sure to stay down low as they passed. She could tell that they were some of Nia's warriors, but she didn't know why they would be heading for Troi so quickly. She could only imagine what it meant.
Echo came back through the undergrowth and knelt beside Clarke. She shook her head "No," to remind Clarke to be quiet. It was also a way of letting her know that she didn't know who it was or what they wanted. It was better for them to not be seen, though. Clarke understood that much.
"We should head back to the palace," Echo finally said breaking the silence, but she didn't move back towards the trail.
Clarke started to stand and move towards the path, but Echo pulled her away and deeper into the wilderness. Clarke knew enough in that moment to not ask why but to pay attention to where Echo was not only stepping, but also to the surrounds so she could go this way again. Looking out towards the horizon, she realized that they were still heading North and away from Troi. She knew that Echo said they were going back. That the riders had to be news from Polis. They were going in the wrong direction.
Worried about it all, Clarke kept her dagger out and in hand. She kept close to Echo as they both moved silently through the sparse evergreen forest. She noticed as they continued on their journey that Echo hadn't put her sword. It was like she was expecting trouble. And, while she may not know what the news was, Echo was afraid of it. She must have recognized one of the riders or one of they symbols that he was carrying.
They kept walking. Clarke kept following, but all the while, she was composing and list of questions to ask as soon as they stopped. The closer they got to wherever they were going, the more antsy it seemed that Echo was getting. And, then she saw a cave carved into a cliff. When they went inside it, Clarke noticed that it was fitted out with things. After moving around, she went back to the move and looked down. The cave over looked the lake to the east of Troi. She hadn't known how they exactly got there, but she could see the lake and Troi.
"Why are we here?" Clarke asked, forgoing Trigedasleng in her question.
"Trig," Echo replied.
"Hakom oso kamp raun hir?" Clarke corrected herself.
"I want you to know where this place is."
"Hakom?" Clarked asked. (Why?)
"If you need to get out of Azgeda, you will start from here."
"Why would I need to leave without you, Fos?"
Echo was worried. She was more than worried, but Clarke didn't have a word for it. Echo seemed to be shaking for whatever reason, but she knew that they had to return to Troi before they were "missing." She hoped that the other woman would talk about it more with her when they got back.
They climbed down and away from the cave. They were both still armed as they entered Troi. Echo took them straight to the palace. She knew that whatever the news was, Ledo would tell them. Echo didn't head for the throne room, and Clarke wondered if it was because Nia wasn't there. Instead, she took them straight to her rooms. Clarke might have only been there a handful of times since she'd come to Troi, but she could tell that Echo was rattled.
Moments after their return, there was a knock on Echo's door. The older woman turned and pushed Clarke away from it. She moved to be in a protective stance in front of Clarke as she opened the door. It was a messenger. He told Echo that they were both wanted in the smaller throne room by Ledo. There were orders from Nia, and it seemed some correspondence from Skaikru for Clarke.
They both knew that Nia had read it, whatever it was. These were the only missives that she'd allowed out of Polis and back to Troi. Whatever they said, Nia must have found them unworthy and sent them with whatever news back to Ledo. They knew that they would know more as soon as they got to see Ledo. Clarke could understand Echo's reluctance to be near the man, but they needed to know what was happening so that Wanheda could plan accordingly. They followed the messenger to this other "receiving room." (Echo told her it was a way for her slight those she didn't want to politcally see because it wasn't the full Azgeda court, and it was only used against the Trikru en Heda, or whatever general that she'd left in charge while she was out of the village/city.)
Upon their arrival in the "General's Room" as Echo referred to it, they saw Ledo sitting on a large chair behind a table. There were several rolled up parchments on the table. He had a big tankard of something in front of him.
This was the first time that Clarke had seen the man "up close and personal." His armor was a mix of white and grey, like most of the warriors of Azgeda. His eyes were cold and calculating, dead and unfeeling. He looked through Clarke, but it was more than that. It was like he didn't even see Clarke, or Echo for that matter, as worthy of deemed a person. His beard was long and unkempt, like he didn't care how it looked. It lacked the finesse and braiding of a Trikru warrior. His hair and beard were striped with grey. His face looked tired and old, but his skin and physique said otherwise. He had to be middle aged, and Clarke guessed he was in his forties. He seemed imposing, strong, and deadly. It was easy to see why Nia kept him close and trusted him to lead in her absence. Clarke knew that she wasn't going to like this man, and she hadn't even spoken to him yet.
He looked them over. He sneered at Echo a little and then smiled, weirdly at Clarke. She managed to make out teeth and withheld the shutter that her body threatened to make. He turned his focus back to the parchments on the table. He picked up a stack of them and threw them at Clarke.
"Those are from the Kwin's bitch of a pet for you, Wanheda," he practically spat at her.
"Mochof," Clarke replied, refushing to impolite to the man and slight him in anyway.
"The Kwin would like you both to be ready to move. She's challenged Leksa. Her try for the coup was overthrown because the pretender brought in Skaikru over the Winter. They were the only ones who stood up for Leksa. Doesn't matter though. Roan will fight her and kill her. Ontari will become Heda and Azgeda will rule the Kongeda like it should," Ledo told them.
Echo nodded.
"The armies are to gather near the border to serve the kwin better once Leska is dead. She wants you to answer her call once Ontari is heda. She will then bring Wanheda to Polis and make sure that everyone bows before her and her power. With Ontari as Heda and Wanheda being Azgeda, the Kongeda will have no choice to follow Kwin Nia," Ledo stated to Echo and then focused back on Clarke. "Be ready to leave quickly. Things are moving fast now and Azgeda will be on top where they should be as the supreme clan on the Kongeda. And, our kwin will do what Leksa couldn't and wipe out Skaikru for once and all."
Clarke knew better than to react. He was trying to goad her into something so that he could punish her. She wasn't an idiot. She knew how men like him played, and she wasn't going play willingly. He was going to have to drag in, kicking and screaming, if he wanted her to react.
She knew that Echo was proud of her though. She reached over and grabbed the parchments, looking him dead in the eye. Her mind thinking of ways of killing this poor excuse of man. She hoped that he choked on his hatred and vitriol. In another life, she'd let Octavia play with him, but for now, she would plan his demise in her head and wait to see when she could carry it out. Wanheda was begging for his head, and she'd not let it burned to end his soul.
"As the kwin commands, so we obey," Clarke told him, almost hissing the words at him.
"Gon we," he waved them off. (Go away.)
Clarke wasted no time. She was out the door and heading towards Echo's room without further thought. The spy caught up to her as Clarke opened the door.
"I need a bath," Clarke mumbled as she moved to the fireplace to light it.
"What are you doing?" Echo questioned.
"Do you think that I'm going to let him read these after I have?" Clarke asked her, eyebrow cocked as the kindling took.
"Nia has already had them translated. You have to know that. She knows what they say."
"She might, but she doesn't. She knows the words are Gonsleng, but she doesn't know their precise meaning. Even we had code on the Ark," Clarke told her with a wink and a smile as she built up the fire higher.
