The Warrior

Prologue

         Prologue


         Marissa clenched her teeth as pain cursed through her body. She felt warm fluid run down her spine, stinging the still swollen marks that ran the length of her back. Sweat and blood and dye.
         The priestess in the long white robe deftly wiped the fluid off, before once again picking up the needle, and went back to work with nimble fingers. The Pryd was slowly taking shape, as color was forced under her skin with each stinging prick of the needle.
         Her father was watching from a respectful distance, just across the river flowing through the circular heart of the temple, with a disapproving frown on his face. He didn’t understand why she was doing this.
         Her mother might have understood, but she died when Marissa was born, leaving her to be raised by her father alone. She loved him and trusted him, but the voice of the Goddess was strong in her, this was something she had to do. She had dreamed of this moment for as long as she could remember, and now she was finally realizing that dream. The pain was worth it.
         Her muscles contracted under the rhythmic assaults of the needle, which left a trail of blood covered marks on her skin. The pattern symbolized her new status as Apprentice to Lagoe.


         Lord Weyland stood in silence, watching his daughter sign her life away. With each prick of the needle his teeth clenched in sympathy as pain racked her delicate body. His daughter, his little girl.
         He wanted to scream, fight, take his daughter back by force and lock her away from her own foolishness. But his daughter was a free woman, come of age only a week earlier, and this was her choice. The knowledge gave him no solace. This was his daughter, his only child, and he just didn’t believe in the cause she was dedicating her life to.
         He was a warrior, his family had always been warriors, dedicated to Ignar the dark God, not the Goddess of Light and Water. His religion was a private thing, no less strong for being unspoken of, and everything he believed in refused him the option of accepting his daughter’s decision.
         Yet how could he deny her? His kind and meek daughter had for the first time in her life shown that she had the heart of a warrior when she fought for her right to do this. Every fiber in his being objected, but faced with her determination he had yielded, and secretly been proud of her strength of will.
         His moment of weakness culminated into this. Watching the Priestess of Lagoe mark his daughter’s back, the Pryd of an apprentice now flowing down her spine and intertwining with her birth-Pryd, the twists and turns of the knotted pattern hinting at secret symbols he had no wish to interpret.
         For the next year she would wear gowns open in the back, showing her status to the world. She would no longer be dressed in green, the color of free men and women, but in white with green embroidery, linking her past and future. In one year, if her determination remained strong, she would don the white robes of a Priestess, and she would no longer be his daughter.
         He reluctantly accepted her decision to become an apprentice, but he would not sit idly by for the next year and watch her slip away from him. He only wanted her happiness and he could not, would not, believe that this would secure that goal.
         His daughter should be loved, should marry, should give him grandchildren, damn it!


         Marissa rose slowly from the solid oak table she had been laying on, breaking him out of his reverie. She stood naked and proud, her head held high and only a slight blush betraying her inherent shyness. Droplets of blood trickled down her back as the Priestess took her hand, and led her in silence down to the river.
         When her feet touched the water’s edge, the Priestess let go of her hand, and she waded in alone. Blood mingled with cool water so red streaks floated like velvet ribbons around her. It eased the pain in her back, and she savored the feel of the water’s caress, and the smooth stones covering the river bottom.
         She wished she could see the Pryd herself, but that could wait. She focused on remaining steady on her feet as she crossed the river towards her waiting father.
         The current wasn’t strong here in the shallow river edge, but it teased and tickled her naked skin as she waded deeper and deeper. Soon a stronger, more insistent current beckoned, as she approached the middle of the river. It was a struggle to keep her footing, and she had to walk on her toes to keep her head above the surface, making it harder not to give in to the demands of the river. It felt like it wanted to grab her and wash her away from her waiting father.
         A piercing pain exploded in her left foot as she stepped on something sharp, and the unexpected shock caused her to loose her footing. Gasping, her head went under, and she gulped down a mouthful of water.
         She struggled in earnest now, her arms working hard to keep her afloat, the threat of drowning driving all conscious thought from her mind as panic took hold. She lost her sense of direction, no longer sure which way would lead her safely to the riverbank, and her muscles ached with the fight to keep her from the river’s clutches.
         Paralyzing terror gripped her, yet with it came a calm acceptance. She would not win this fight, she just wasn’t strong enough.
         Just as the thought burned through her fear, a hand gripped her arm in a merciless grasp. Instinctively she fought to get free, even as it pulled her through the water, to the safety of the riverbank. Before she knew who or what had saved her, she found herself sitting on dry land, a soft blanket wrapped around her shivering body, her father clutching her in a tight embrace.
         She tried to speak, but coughs tore through her, her body repelling the water she had swallowed while struggling for breath only moments earlier. Her father was whispering nothings in her ear, calming her as he had done when she was a little girl, waking up from a bad dream in the middle of the night.
         She wanted to bury herself against his chest, and let him fix everything, yet she knew it was impossible. She was no longer a child, and he could not fix this. She had failed.
         Sensing a presence, she glanced up, and saw the white clad priestess standing before them. Once again she tried to speak, but her throat convulsed and refused to form the words needed to apologize, to beg for another chance.


         The priestess raised a hand, bidding her to remain silent.


         “She is my daughter.” Her father’s voice was strong and calm, no hint of defiance or defense. He had done the only thing he could, and he would not defend his actions to anyone. Apprentice or not, there was no way he could stand by and watch his daughter drown.


         The priestess spared a small smile for him, but directed her words to Marissa. “We all need help sometimes to overcome the obstacles we face in life. There is no shame in this, and you have not failed. You now enter the Year of Silence. For the next year you will be cut off from Lagoe’s temples, the Priestesses, and other apprentices. You will be on your own, without anyone to guide you in your decisions. Your responsibility is simple; you must live. During this year you must gather experiences and truly get to know the world in which you live. To become a Priestess is not a decision to be taken lightly, and you need to know the world, before you can make the decision to forsake it, and spend the rest of your life in Lagoe’s temples. Be brave, Child, live a year without fear. In one year and one day we will meet again.”
The priestess turned, and walked away from the father and daughter still clinging to each other on the river bank.


         Marissa heaved a sight of relief. It was done, she was an apprentice.


         A bright smile lit up the delicate features of her face, and her father’s heart shrunk at the sight. Once she took the final mark, he would no longer know her, not as his daughter. He would never be able to hug her, never hear her voice, never hold her children in his arms.
         She looked so happy. What if she would not change her mind?


******************************************************************************************************


Albion = The name of the country
Lagoe = Fertility goddes, the main deity of the people of Albion. Referred to as Goddess of Light and Water.
Ignar = God of war and death. Referred to as The Dark One.
Pryd = Sacred tattoo.
the Year of Silence = A year when an Apprentice to Lagoe must be cut off from the temples and Priestesses, and live without guides. She will be responsible for her own decisions, and she must endeavor to live life fearlessly, gathering experience in preparation of making the final commitment and becoming a Priestess. The idea is that a Priestess should not make the commitment without knowing what she will give up, and also that she will be unable to guide others in their life choices, if she has not herself ever truly lived.


** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **