Happy New Years to all my readers!

Itzala ran from the camp, her cheeks reddened in embarrassment from Ethuran’s comments. Tears stung her eyes and she wiped at them hastily, hating the sign of emotional weakness.


She hiked up her green dress above her knees, heading straight for the stables that housed the clan’s horses. She knew exactly where she was going, but she wasn’t sure why.


She quickly found her black stallion Rowan tied to a post in the back where he was peacefully munching on some grass. He looked up and gave Itzala a suspicious look as she approached with his blankets and bridle. She wasn’t going to bother to fully saddle him. She was wearing this stupid dress anyways.


Rowan didn’t protest as she untied him and mounted him, steering him away from the sounds of drums and peals of laughter in the camp and down into the lower part of the valley and out of the clan’s territory.


She would be riding among the un-pledged villages tonight.






It was easy for Rowan to navigate the narrow passages between the fallen rocks and boulders, even though Itzala herself could barely see anything. At the edge of the un-pledged villages, there were barely any lamps or candles burning. This was where she was going, to a place un-crowded and undisturbed by her current predicaments. It was just her, her horse, and the night air.


And hopefully an un-involved companion.


She came upon the small stone abode that sat atop a hill overlooking the other villages through the pines. It had truly been a great spot to pick for the family. A great vantage point for spotting customers and danger. Not to mention they had a great view of the Lonely Lake.


Itzala dismounted with some difficulty given that her bare feet were getting tangled up in the dress she wore. It was a plain thing, though for Itzala, it was much more ostentatious than her typical garb. It was a long-sleeved, wide armed dress that showed off her collarbones and the tops of her shoulders. She had a leather belt around the middle and then the material flared out around her feet. She had to admit the color was a little ironic, given her already bright, cursed evergreen eyes. She had come to detest green, but this green was more…natural. And the patterned vines sewn in helped to bring that “normalcy” to life.


She tied Rowan to the post outside and made sure he had access to some hay before leaving her prized stallion and knocking upon the door of Rush Valeros.


“Come in!” Came his call, his voice muffled.


Itzala noticed then that smoke was coming out of the chimney. He was probably working.


Setting her jaw, Itzala pushed open the wooden door, immediately wishing she had chosen to go ride along the lake shore like she had wanted to in the first place.


Why am I here?


Rush was hunkered over his worktable, his mouth and nose covered in cloth while his gloved hands were fiddling with a piece of copper. He didn’t immediately pause as Itzala walked in, shutting the door behind her. He was fully engrossed in his work, the dirty smudges a sure sign that he had been working on this project all day without much of a rest.


“Rush?” She tried to get his attention, hoping she hadn’t interrupted him. Clearly she had. She didn’t know why she was trying to convince herself otherwise.


Rush looked up then, the dark smudges bringing out his watery blue eyes that instantly widened at her appearance. He dropped his copper and quickly stood, taking off his cloth from around his face.


“It-Itzala?” He stammered, brushing his dirty hands on his trousers, leaving stains behind. “What are you doing here?”


She gave him an incredulous look, resting her fists on her hips, her unbound black hair waving over one shoulder. “Am I suddenly not allowed to come here?”


She realized then that he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and that sweat was dripping off of him. Why wasn’t he feeling faint, or tired?



Rush ran one of his hands through his light honey copper hair, grinning in that awkward way he usually did when someone didn’t understand what he was saying.


“No, I mean…why are you here,” he pointed at the ground, at his home, “dressed like that?” He then pointed to her, to her outfit, to her hair that was rarely unbound and never, ever decorated in spring flowers.


Everything came crashing back then as Itzala raced to rip the flowers out of her hair, tossing them on the ground and then stomping on them.


Rush held up his hands, palms out, toward Itzala. “Um, hey, are you ok?”


She threw the last of the flowers down and glared at him. “Of course I’m not ok!” She shouted. “I just had to endure the most embarrassing moment of my life, and it had to happen in front of him, in front of Ethuran,” she spat.


Rush tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Who’s Ethuran again?”


“And he only made it worse!” She continued, completely ignoring Rush’s attempt at changing the subject. “He asked me why I was wearing this dress; that it wasn’t suitable for me.”


Rush’s jaw went slack, staring at bewilderment at the girl before him.


Itzala clenched her fists and began pacing in the small space. “What else was I supposed to wear? It’s the end of cold-sun and the beginning of the warm. It’s a celebration that only happens once a year, and it was my sisters who forced me into this stupid thing-”


Suddenly Rush’s arm was in front of her, halting her pacing. She moved to protest, opening her mouth and aiming her fiery gaze at him, only for that fire to be totally doused.


Rush’s usually light and joking eyes were serious. He looked at her, really looked at her, and smiled gently.


“Ethuran is a fool to say such things to you on your first transitioning ceremony. Did he manage to ruin your mood so much that you left before you got to dance?” He asked, that smile remaining on his face.


Itzala felt shock run through her. She had never really seen Rush so…caring toward her. Of course, they were friends, but he had always kept a distance between them when it came to their personal matters.


That was when the dam broke, and Itzala’s cheeks became flushed and hot, and angry tears bubbled in the corners of her eyes.


“I hate the idea of it,” she croaked, her throat constricting. “Why should I even be thinking about such trivial things like potential bonding partners when I’m not even considered a warrior yet?”


Rush’s smile turned to a grim one, and his hand-his hand covered in dirt and ash-rested on her bare shoulder.


“Who says you aren’t a warrior? You’re almost seventeen right? You should have already completed your training at the age of fourteen-”


“Because I’m not a man,” she said bluntly, “and to them my first priority is providing more warriors for the clan. They see it as a…waste if I became a warrior. I am a warrior by trial and blood and dirt, but my fellow clansmen will never see me as more than a future mother of future warriors…I will never become strong like they are…like Ethuran is.”


Rush narrowed his eyes, then held up his hand.


“Wait here,” he said, and then turned to vanish behind a curtain of cloth.


You’re leaving me now while I’m crying in front of you and revealing all of these embarrassing things in front of you? Itzala thought furiously, hugging herself as she waited for him.


He then came back out holding a large bundle of leather that was wrapped around some objects. She couldn’t make out what they were until Rush set it down on his worktable and lit a few more candles.


“Come here,” he said, patting the work chair he would never let anyone else sit in besides her.


Curious, she sauntered forward and plopped herself on the chair with little grace, her eyes wide as she watched Rush carefully unwrap the leather.


What was inside made Itzala gasp in astonishment.


Two terribly sharp, double-sided battle axes rested inside the leather wrapping. They had been polished and painstakingly forged with only the highest quality iron. The hilts were made of wood, but they were wrapped in thick, dark leather. The metal gleamed in the candle-light, and their wicked edges had been sharpened to perfection. No crack or weak spot showed itself as Itzala carefully picked up one of them and twirled it around in her hand, marveling at the weight and carefully crafted balance.


Beneath the blades was a custom made belt with copper rings to use as holsters on either side. The leather belt itself was covered it delicate whorls of shiny copper. A small detail that made Itzala smile.


“These are for you, Itzala,” Rush said, his voice warmed by pride for the reaction he was getting out of her. She too would be proud of such…art.


“You’re joking? How in the world am I supposed to pay you back for these?” She protested, wanting to shove the axes back at him, but unable to put either of them down as she practiced swinging with them as she sat in his chair.


Rush laughed, brushing sweat from his brow. “Your sister had been a very good paying customer. I think two free axes would be the least I could do.”


“But these are iron axes, Rush!” She protested yet again, a sharp tug in her heart nearly taking her breath away at the mention of her deceased sister, Terra. “These are for privileged warriors, experienced warriors who have earned such…”


She couldn’t find the words. She simply couldn’t understand why this man, why Rush, had gone through so much trouble to make her weapons. Weapons that she herself had dreamed of having since she began training with her mentor Critza. She remembered telling Rush about the axes once a year or so ago, but for him to remember and then make them? He was incredible.


Rush crouched lower so that he could grasp her upper arms and meet her gaze at an even level.


“Itzala.”


He said her name with such reverence, and of course with a hint of amusement. Either way, it threw her off kilter. She was forced to look into his laughing, misty blue irises.


“You are the bravest warrior I know, and you are so much stronger than you give yourself credit for. I know it. You know how I know that?”


Itzala shook her head, her cheeks flushing for a whole different reason.


He shook her gently, his infectious smile returning. “You are being trained by Critza, the battle mistress herself who is one of the most feared warriors in the valley. She’s also a woman, which I think makes her ten times scarier.”


Itzala laughed, putting her new axes back on the worktable and shoving his shoulder playfully. “So?”


“So?” He scoffed, tapping her red cheek with his fore-finger. “That means you too can become just as scary as her, if not more given that you are a Blackmore, and that you are Itzala.”


Itzala’s brow furrowed. “I’m scary because I’m me?”


Rush chuckled, nodding. “Yes. You have a…fire about you; one that burns and burns without thought of others, but somehow you tame it and use it to protect those who you care for. I’ve seen it time and time again, and I don’t think you realize how truly magnificent of a warrior you will be.”


Did he realize how close he was to her deepest, darkest secret, and of how wrong he was about that fire? Yes, she had a fire that burned, a fire that cared for no one but itself and its own survival. A fire she could never tame and would continue to run rampant with or without her consent.


Either way, she smiled, looking at the deadly axes forged just for her, and then at the man who had managed to give her hope, and a reprieve from her life in the Blackmore clan.


She leaned forward and embraced him, not giving him an inch when he tried to push her away, saying he didn’t want to get sweat and dirt all over her dress.

 
She laughed, finally pulling back. “Why don’t you help me put them on?”


Rush smiled, eagerly getting to his feet, offering his hand to her. “Of course. I’ve been dying to see how they would fit you.”


Itzala giggled, stepping back and holding out her arms, her heart pounding with excitement as Rush brought the belt forward and replaced her current belt with it, his large calloused hands moving gently to secure the halters around her hips.


He then held out the axes by the handles, letting her be the one to slide them into place at her sides. She grinned up at him, noticing once again how his sweat drenched his bare chest, how smudges of ash and dirt coated him head to toe. How long had he labored over her gift? How many hours, days, weeks?


She caressed the handles before gripping them and sliding them into the loops at her hips. They gave a satisfying click when they got into place, and she found to her surprise that the wicked blade ends did not come close to grazing her. It was safe, even safer sense she would be wearing layers.


She noticed then that the top of the axe had a unique spike that went past the height of the double-sided blades. She looked up at Rush, curious to know why they were there.


She didn’t even need to ask as he could see where she was looking. Silently he took her small, pale hand and made her grasp the top of the handle nearest the blade.


“Now, pretend I am a warrior with knives who does close combat. Maybe I caught you off guard and am aiming straight for your throat. You won’t have time to adjust your axe to swing at him. Instead you will-”


He then jerked my hand upwards, and thus the pointed end on top of the axe was aimed directly at Rush’s exposed flesh.


I felt my jaw go slack in awe. “That’s genius. I won’t even have to swing my axe backward to land a blow.”


He grinned and nodded, letting the axe slide back into the copper hoop. “Exactly. This way you are prepared for that situation where other axe users won’t be. Plus, the pointed end is good for getting through armor.”


Itzala nodded eagerly, sliding her fingers along the axe’s shiny edges.


“I love it,” she said reverently, gazing back up at her friend.


Rush swallowed, running his hand through his hair. “Yeah well, you’re welcome. They really do suit you.”


Itzala smiled, showing off her teeth. “Thank you,” she said sincerely.


Rush nodded, gesturing behind her. “You can head back home now, the celebration has probably stopped. I doubt anyone will want to approach you anyways while you’re wearing my axes,” he joked, his eyes lingering around the belt secured at my hips.


Itzala patted one of the axes and laughed quietly to herself. She could already imagine the reactions she would be getting, and see Critza’s excitement at being able to train with her with her new weapons.


“Are you sure there is no way I can pay for these? I can bring you food, or I could bring you supplies for your other projects?” She offered, feeling guilty that she got such beautiful weapons for free. She had to acknowledge the work put into them, the time and dedication he had put into something she had dreamed up on a whim.


Rush narrowed his eyes in contemplation as he looked over her, rubbing his chin as he thought. Itzala squirmed as the waterfalls in his eyes shimmered and danced as they examined her.


“Well…I suppose there is something you could do,” he said finally, his smile mischievous and wicked at the same time.


Dread filled Itzala. “Rush…,” she warned him, not feeling up to one of his pranks tonight.


He chuckled, removing his hand from his chin and gesturing at me. “Wear dresses when you come to see me, then I’ll consider the payment made.”


For the second time that night, she felt her jaw drop. “What?”


Rush grinned. “It’s a nice change to see you so…well, looking so beautiful. It would be nice to see such sights in my workshop. It would make my days much more interesting,” he said, watching Itzala closely.


Itzala felt another blush crawl up her neck and onto her cheeks.


Rush’s grin broadened. “Do you protest?”


In truth, for some reason, Itzala liked the idea very much. He was the first man to notice her as…beautiful. The word was foreign to her, but she enjoyed hearing it from him.


And maybe I can get a little sweet revenge on Ethuran by wearing them more often.


“No, I’m not,” she replied, hating the nervousness in her voice, “if that’s really all you would want, then I’ll do it. The axes are honestly worth so much more…”


Rush laughed, walking forward and poking Itzala’s cheek again.


“Well, until the next time I see you.”


“Until next time,” she murmured, smiling. She didn’t feel so nervous anymore as she turned to walk out of that stone house.

Itzala even let herself tread a little more loosely so Rush could see the full skirt of the dress move with her. He laughed again as she left, putting a wicked grin on her face.


This might actually be fun…