Chapter 1

The Serpent and the Goddess - by Clare de Luna

Chapter 1

Asiara grinned to hear the clank of her body guards' armor as they marched beside her. They had all insisted on coming to this parlay fully armed in their thick suits of metallic scales and face covering helms, but as they walked through the rapidly approaching dusk, she couldn't help but think that it far too warm and pleasant an evening to be trapped within such restrictive armor.

Of course, on one hand, she could hardly blame them – they were about to walk into an enemy camp, enter the tent of their commanding officers, and demand surrender. It made sense to be ready for the worst.

But while Asiara counted on her thick scale mail to get her through the hectic nature of combat on the battle field, in the close quarters of the opposing generals' tent, she knew that dexterity would be the key. And that was exactly what her current outfit afforded her. On her feet she wore a pair of close fitting boots made of supple leather that would allow her to move quickly and gracefully. On her legs she wore a simple, tan pair of skin tight leggings that would do nothing to encumber her actions. And to protect her torso, she wore a simple shirt of lightweight chainmail over a thin woolen tunic.

On her head she wore nothing. This allowed her curly black hair to be free, and her dark, mysterious eyes to be in full view. It also left all who saw her under the spell of her bewitching beauty, as her delicate, pale skin, mischievous grin and alluring, side-long glances had drawn many an unsuspecting man and woman to their rapture – and their destruction.

And this, too, was a benefit of her light attire. Asiara knew that her reputation preceded her; she knew that when she entered her enemies' tent, they would be prepared to see Asiara the Great Warrior. In their minds, she was a ten foot Amazon with muscles that could match the most giant of men. They imagined her to be a walking arsenal of deadly weapons and assumed she'd do everything she could to intimidate them with her military might.

But when she entered that tent in her sparse attire, her appearance would surprise and confuse them, thus giving her the upper hand. For rather than the strapping Amazon that they would expect, what they would actually see would be a woman of average height with a figure that resembles that of a sensuous, slim, and agile dancer rather than that of a powerful warrior woman. Her many legendary victories on the battlefield would continue to inspire fear, but her alluring beauty would utterly disarm them.

And being disarmed in the presence of someone as ruthless and cunning as Asiara was a very dangerous state.

Partheon, Asiara's top general and confidant had insisted that she protect herself with something more tangible, to wear more armor, but she ignored his behests. She would have her opposition so off balance that they would agree to her terms before they even knew what they were doing.

Besides, even if these negotiations did end in combat, Asiara was sure that she could handle herself. As she thought this, her hand strayed down until it rested softly on Phyxilir, her famous long sword, a weapon whose appearance mirrored that of its owner.

The Queen had given her this sword when she had named Asiara the Captain of the Annol Army, and Defender of the Annol Kingdom. It had been used in the Queen's service for more than three hundred years, and had become a thing of legend, for its wielder had never been bested in direct combat. Asiara's own startling success on the battlefield had only added to the sword's considerable legend.

But like Asiara itself, the sword's appearance took those who had never seen it by surprise. It wasn't a giant, two-handed saber, encrusted with jewels and sheathed in a scabbard of solid platinum. It was a simple and elegant weapon, with a mysterious and alluring beauty. Asiara kept it at her side in a slim and elegant scabbard, and it's strong yet delicate pommel gave little indication of the many deadly battles it had seen.

On her other hip, Asiara wore a short sword whose appearance was very similar to that of Phyxilir. Asiara had named this simple blade Finisher, as it was often the weapon that dealt the final death blow to her opponents while she used Phyxilir to parry their attacks. Finisher had quite a reputation, as well, but that was all due to Asiara's own prowess, for the short sword had had no other owner. Asiara couldn't quite remember when she first came across the blade, but she knew that she had had it long before the Queen graced her with Phyxilir.

An expert in two handed combat, these weapons were all that Asiara would need. She scoffed at the bodyguards around her – these five men each had their backs and belts littered with different weapons. Asiara had always preferred the fast and versatile fighting style that her two blades afforded her, and saw no reason to carry any more arms than her two deadly blades.

"There they are." Nathran, the head of Asiara's bodyguards broke Asiara out of her reverie as the group rounded a small outcropping of rock and came into view of the Sersiphi army, spread over a wide flat expanse in the middle of the grassy, hilly terrain that surrounded them.

If it could really be called an army, Asiara mused. Scanning the scene in front of her Asiara took stock of what they were really up against. The Queen had mentioned that the Sersiphi army was small, but Asiara was stunned to see just how few soldiers they seemed to have, and how unprepared for war they seemed.

She had known that they were a cultish group, known more for their attempts at sorcery than for their military prowess, but she was shocked by just how weak they all appeared. The warriors that she was able to spot were ill-equipped, and the swords that they carried at their sides seemed foreign to them – as though they had only been in possession of the weapons for a few weeks. But what was most surprising were the many sorcerers that she saw. Unlike the well trained mages in her own army, these were charlatans, praying to their idols for curses and cures that Asiara knew wouldn't come. This would all be far too easy.

For just a moment she felt a twinge of anger that her Queen had sent her on so far a journey just to stamp out a rebellion that appeared to be so pitiful, but that feeling quickly vanished as her devotion to her Queen flooded through her. She longed to return to her primary mission – an invasion of the Maurial Kingdom to the South, and this diversion would delay their assault, and perhaps reveal their presence, giving the Maurial forces time to organize. But The Queen had commanded that she remove this threat to her kingdom, and that is what Asiara would do.

Striding through the enemy camp, Asiara and her bodyguards reached the central Sersiphi tent and, without ceremony, she pulled open the flap and entered. As her guards fanned out behind her, Asiara glanced around the room, taking in a sight that had become quite familiar to her. On the far end of the tent was a long wooden table, behind which sat the three leaders of the Sersiphi. These three men were dressed in plain brown cloaks, and the man in the middle wore a thin leather band around his head, marking him as the leader of the camp: Brolleon. As Asiara entered, a thin serving girl with auburn braids on either side of her head was pouring each of the men a glass of wine. When she was finished, she moved to the corner of the tent, leaving the men to conduct their business.

The Sersiphi leaders looked up at Asiara and, as she suspected, they gasped to see that the ferocious warrior woman that they had expected did not match what their imaginations had conjured. Asiara walked in her confident but alluring way into the center of the tent, ready for the negotiations to begin.

As she did so, she made a mental note of what she and her guards would be up against if anything should go wrong. Two guards stood on either side of the entrance, and two more had taken up positions on either side of the tent, flanking Asiara. Six men in total, plus the three leaders in front of her. Asiara knew that she and the five guards she had brought with her could make quick work of this group if things came to blows.

But that was the least likely possibility. After all, she had followed the standard practice of instructing her army to attack at daybreak the next morning if she didn't return. The Sersiphi army wouldn't stand a chance against such an all-out offensive, so attacking her now would be akin to suicide on their part.

No, the only real question in these negotiations was whether they would surrender immediately, or if they would at least make some effort to save face.

"Leaders of the Sersiphi, I am Asiara, Captain of the Annols. I have come on behalf of my Queen to suppress your rebellion, and to bring you back in line with her decrees. If you swear fealty to her now, we will only require a modest payment in gold as punishment for your insolence."

Brolleon seemed slightly taken aback upon hearing Asiara's smoky, sultry voice. Still, he pulled himself together and responded, "Asiara, what you ask for is surrender. That is something we cannot do."

"Then you will be destroyed. My army will attack first thing tomorrow and, as you know, your army cannot withstand the full might of the Queen's army. No army can."

"Do you really think that we started our rebellion only to give in to the first show of might that your little Queen sends our way? We didn't unite our people in arms for nothing!"

"Of course not. You suspected that the Queen would respond with an army befitting the size of the threat – in other words, a small one. But that is not what you are facing. If you choose war, the battle will be short and decisive. You know this as well as I do. Your people are counting on you to do the wise thing."

As she said this, Asiara once again felt a twinge of indignation as the overwhelming odds in her favor made all of this seem beneath her. Why had her Queen sent her here? The Maurials to the South would prove a much greater challenge, and Asiara would have preferred to save her army's strength for that invasion. Whatever the reason, though, it was not her place to question. She would simply get this over with quickly and then return to the capitol.

Unfortunately, Bolleon did not seem to want to cooperate. "You know as well as anyone, Asiara, that a strong leader is far more important than a large and well-trained army. Your own skills in this regard are quite renowned."

"That is all the more reason for you to surrender now, while you have the chance." Even as she said this, Asiara felt the familiar prickling on the back of her neck that told her that there was danger in the air. She could hear her body guards subtly shifting their weight as they, too, felt this threat beginning to grow.

"Indeed, with you at the head of the army, we would stand no chance. But that is why we have made arrangements to ensure that you will not be at the head of the army."

"If you intend to try to kill me while I am in your camp, it will only make matters worse for you. Even without me, my army will make short work of your pitiful band. And if any harm comes to me, I can assure you, there will be no surrender, only slaughter." Asiara was confident in the words she had just spoken, but she was also confident that it wouldn't come to that. She let her hands move subtly towards the hilts of her swords as the discussion continued.

"Ah, but by your own admission, a great leader can make quite the difference. And my 'pitiful band' will soon have the greatest leader of all."

"Hah," Asiara scoffed, "and who is that leader? You?"

"No, Asiara. That leader is you!"

Asiara heard the sound of metal scraping against metal as the Sersiphi guards drew their swords.

Negotiations were clearly over, and Asiara was ready for action. With a single motion, she leapt onto the table, drawing both of her blades at the same time. She landed on the table with an emphatic "thunk," and swung her blades in unison, cutting Bolleon down in a pair of swipes that cut his head cleanly off of his body.

Not hesitating to admire her handiwork, she kicked with her right leg, catching the man who had sat next to Bolleon squarely in the face. She felt his nose and cheek collapse under the force of her boot, and he fell backwards, out of his chair. She didn't know if he was dead or not, but he would no longer be a factor in this fight.

The man on Bolleon's other side had drawn a dagger and now attacked Asiara from her left, but Phyxilir was already in position to intercept his thrust. Jamming the longsword hard into the air, she raised her assailant's own arm straight above him, leaving his torso completely exposed to Finisher, which earned its name as the short sword plunged into the man's heart.

Asiara's next move was borne of instinct – an instinct that had served her well over the years. She sprung backwards, off of the table just as one of the Sersiphi guards charged her from behind. Flipping in the air, she landed gracefully behind the warrior, then plunged Finisher into his back before he had time to react. The sword drove through the man's leather armor and severed his spine.

Unfortunately, the blade was caught in the man's ribs, so Asiara had to let it go for the time being. She wasn't too concerned, though – spinning around so that she could take stock of the combat that had been happening behind her, she was certain that she would see the final stages of a lop-sided skirmish as her guards finished off the pathetic Sersiphi fighters.

What Asiara actually saw was shocking to her. Three Sersiphi guards lay dead on the ground, but the others were still standing, watching as Asiara's guards slowly slumped to the ground. Asiara's mind raced to find an explanation for what had happened, even as she assumed her battle stance, ready to take on the Sersiphi herself.

A sharp pain in her neck alerted her to her one crucial mistake. Spinning around once again, her free hand went to the small dart in her neck at the same time that her eyes fell upon her attacker. Standing in the corner of the tent, the serving girl still stood, forgotten. Only now, the young woman held a small blow-gun in her hands, and a sly, confident look on her face.

Asiara tried to resist the poison that was spreading through her body, but the room had already begun to spin, and her knees felt weak. Phyxilir slipped from her grasp as she fell onto the table in front of her. Her knees buckled, and she gripped the wooden surface before her, trying to keep herself up-right. But it was no use. As she crumpled to the side, onto the packed earth floor, she felt all of her strength ebbing from her limbs. She looked up at the ceiling of the tent, which now seemed to be spiraling endlessly above her, and then all was dark...

Chapter 2

The next thing that Asiara was aware of was a scent. She couldn't place it, but it put her in mind of ... she wasn't sure what, but whatever it was, it seemed to be everywhere, filling her nostrils, and it was ... affecting her, somehow.

There was also something cold and hard beneath her – as though she were lying on stone. And there were voices – soft and chanting – nearby, but she couldn't make out what any of them were saying.

When Asiara pulled her eyes open, she found that she was no longer in the tent. She only had the strength to keep her eyes open for a moment, but in that moment she was able to recognize the stars above her, and light from the green moon filled her eyes.

As her eyes fell closed once again, she forced her mind to think. She was cold. This was to be expected since she was outside in the night air, but still, she shouldn't be quite this cold. Then she realized: she was naked!

This realization gave her enough strength to force her eyes open once again. Holding them open a bit longer this time, she took in a few more details of her surroundings. She was lying on some kind of stone platform, and was surrounded by people – the Sersiphi, she realized. A few of them were immediately next to the platform that held her; looking down at her and holding small braziers that were emitting wisps of smoke. Asiara realized that this was the source of the scent that she had detected as she awoke.

Behind this small group, a large group – probably all of the other Sersiphi, judging by the size of the crowd, had gathered around her, and were slowly, suggestively dancing as they chanted words that Asiara could not understand.

Asiara's strength gave out again, and she allowed her eyes to flutter closed once more. She was in danger, that much was clear. The platform that she was lying on must be some sort of altar, she realized, and she was to be a sacrifice. It was night, so her armies wouldn't come to massacre these pathetic people for several more hours. If she was going to escape, she'd have to accomplish it herself.

But her body refused to respond to her commands. She tried to move her legs, but could only manage to shift them slightly. She certainly didn't have the strength to stand, let alone fight. The efforts of trying move, as well as the energy that she'd spent taking all this in left her drained, and she felt herself slipping into unconsciousness once more...