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Warrior Risen (Memoir)

Khory Bannefin

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"Lord, send your wind into this valley
Breathe the breath of Life into their souls
Raise them up again a mighty army
Soon these risen warriors will battle again."

-Casting Crowns-


A small village.

Who hasn't seen a hundred like them? Small farms nestled amidst trees, a small timber trade, foresters and hunters going about their work. A thriving little community entirely unto itself, with no need or desire for outsiders and nothing to offer the world in the ways of material wealth. No, it was just a small village, which happened to contain a single small red-haired girl.

I was christened just "Khory". Surnames weren't needed in my village. Everyone would know who I was and to whom I belonged. I took the second name later, to distinguish me from the other girls who would be born with my name. I'm sure the parents thought it an honor of some kind. I would not have wished the burden of my name on any child.

I was only 8 years old when I knew that life in the village would never satisfy me. The thought shamed me at first. Who was I to judge the hard work of the people around me as unworthy of my time? How could I sit there being raised and cared for by these people and know I would never repay that debt by living and working among them? I had no good reasons, but I felt it in my heart, and despite the shame of it I grew viciously determined to follow my heart. Soon after I met my first soldier, and I knew how I would escape this confining rural life.

At thirteen I left. I stole away like a thief in the night, much like many other children of my age I am sure. Admittedly, most of the children who run away to join the army are male. It might have been easier if I was.

The Corporal who confronted me in the queue laughed and sneered at me. I was only a girl, and a skinny one at that. I couldn't possibly heft a lance or swing a sword. And just look at that hair! The enemy would see me a mile off. The look I gave him had cowed many an older boy at home. It did not phase him a bit. He stopped sneering and got a wickedly amused smile on his face. He seemed to take my "tough" look as a challenge. He probably thought he was going to scare me off. Have I mentioned that I am most often described as "determined"?

He signed me up, just as a joke, and proceeded to visit every hellish exercise he could think of on me. I took everything he handed me. In a week I was broken, battered and bruised in ways that had made actual men cry. In fact, I did cry, silently and at night where I was unobserved. But everything he did made me bite my lip and keep going, growling in frustration when I failed and doing it again, over and over. The other men poked fun and laughed, then joined in, coming up with new tortures, and finally grew silent when I wouldn't quit.

Eventually they had to allow me to graduate. I like to think that by the time that happened they had admitted to themselves that I was worthy. I had earned it as much, or even more than, any other man. My body was a roadmap of lessons learned at brutal hands, but learned I had. Perhaps even better than they had intended. Many of those men would later die in battle beside me, while somehow I kept going, kept surviving. Maybe that was the role they had intended all along.

Or maybe, just maybe, the Gods had a better sense of justice than I gave them credit for.

Posted: Sun Feb 19, 2012 6:34 pm

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Khory Bannefin

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"God's damn it, where are the archers?! You get back there and tell them if we don't get some cover I'm going to throw them neck deep into this pile of shit myself!"

Clouds boiled above, sickly colors never meant to exist in nature. The Enemy had Mages on their side. Most of ours were gone, or desperately busy healing the wounded. Rains of unnatural things kept falling on us. Purple slime was the last, making the footing even more treacherous than it had been. I HATE magic.

My company had been scattered, killed, merged and reformed with other groups that I no longer knew have of them. But they were my men, and I was responsible for leading them. Their faces all looked to young to be in this, but I was only 19 myself. Hypocritical perhaps to believe boys a mere 3 years younger could be too young and less skilled at this than I. The difference was I had been doing this for three years already. They'd just been sent to this battle a week ago, fresh out of training. It showed. I could tell many of them were thankful for the dirt and the smell. It covered their shame, much as it had mine years ago.

Finally, over our heads a volley of arrows blacked the sky. I rose up screaming, sword high. My armor was boiled leather, not as good as chain or plate but much more maneuverable in a fight. It was also filthy. The helm I wore had belonged to an officer at some point. The horsetail plume had been ripped out of it, which was ok. Laced through the hole in the top, where the plume should have been, was about three feet of flaming, tho dirty, red hair. My hair, to be exact. Someone had once told me that having hair that color would make me a target. They were right. But it also made me a very clear rallying point for the men around me.

"FORWARD!" I screamed it into the shifting, boiling sky. All around me scared men and boys roared with me and surged into the fray. Swords and screams, and the sound of blows on bodies and shields became a sort of music, a cadence I could follow, had followed for a long time. I didn't remember which battle this was. It had stopped mattering long ago. I fought, I survived, I fought again. The uniforms changed, and I'm sure the reasons behind them did as well, but I was the same. Kill, recover, kill again, for days and years. This was what I was good at.

When the battle ended for that day I walked the field, finding my own amongst the fallen and giving them what peace I could. I had never payed service to the gods myself. I believed them to be selfish, indolent, and casually cruel. They deserved no prayers from me. But these poor men, some of them believed, and for their sake I spoke the words they needed to hear, growing angrier inside with each wasted life that passed under my hands.

I made a decision that day. Killing was something I did well. At that point fighting was all I knew in life, and I couldn't stop being a warrior just for the wishing of it. But I vowed then and there, no longer would I fight because I was told to. Nor would I fight because the fight was there. I would fight for what I believed in, or die defending the same. It would not forgive the lives I would take, but it gave it a sort of personal justice, and that was all I could comprehend then.

It wasn't until later that decision began to chafe as well.

Posted: Wed Feb 22, 2012 7:40 pm

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Khory Bannefin

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I had been climbing for what seemed like ages. The Temple on top of this peak seemed to be designed exactly for the purpose which it now served. It made those who wished to enter actually work for the privilege. As I climbed it seemed I let go of everything as I went. All the memories of what I had been through, the struggle to keep myself whole in a maelstrom of death and destruction, all slipped from my grasp, little by little. My grasp was busy holding onto a mountainside, after all. Soon it became a rote movement, my thoughts a white void as my body found a handhold, raised a foot, levered upward, and started again. Up and up I went, until I was nothing more than the climb.

Finally reaching the top was a startling thing. More so was the face of a young boy, looking down at me with a small smile and holding out a hand to help me up. I stood on bare rock, but before me was a yard, of sorts. It had all the markings of a yard. There was ground-cover, trees and bushes, even flowers, though these were small. There were flagstones in paths and small decorations or sculptures tucked into little niches. There was even a fountain. But all of these things were winter and wind hardy plants. It somehow made them harder, a more rugged and enduring garden than I had ever seen.

The Temple before me was as I had imagined it. I thought it fitting that the God of Peace should favor white and blue. Both always seemed to be peaceful colors to me. The outside of the temple was white stone. I shone even in this weak high altitude sunlight. It wasn't a natural glow, as if the stone itself were reflecting. It was not marble, at least that I could see. No, it was just white, whiter than any building I had ever seen.

The young boy was still there, watching me with that small smile. He seemed amused, but also very serious. He was an interesting child. He had dark hair, and tanned skin, but his eyes were a shocking shade of blue. He was dressed simply in a white tunic and short pants, and his feet were bare, which had to be uncomfortable on this sort of ground. I was a bit unsettled by him, to tell the truth.

"Is this the Temple of Contego?" I asked, my tone exhibiting my uncertainty. The young boy nodded, smiling.

"It is. I've been asked to show you inside. Come on!"

So I followed as the young boy skipped ahead of me. His enthusiasm made me smile. He wasn't being frivolous, but he was clearly happy to be here. It made me feel good to hear the laughter and see the energy of the young. I couldn't remember when last that had happened. I realized then how much I had missed it. Needless to say, it was with a slightly lighter heart that I helped him push open bronze doors and entered the House of Peace.

As outside, the inside was very white, but tile work lined the walls in colorful stripes of blue, and the floor also showed every shade of blue there was. Before me, standing serenely, stood a large statue of the God himself. It was nothing if not imposing, and yet I was drawn to it. My past, my present, most of all the decision that I had made, pulled me to the feet of the statue like iron to lodestone.

"He has asked me to leave you here for a bit, and so I will!" The young boy smiled again at me and padded out, his bare feet rasping softly against the tile.

I looked again at the statue. It was white, as everything was, but it wore robes of a turquoise hue. The hands were held at the sides, palms out, as though showing he bore no weapon, nothing to hurt with. In his face seemed to be a myriad of emotions. There was serenity, yes, but also anger, and sadness. It was the sadness that spoke to me most. Suddenly all the memories I had forgotten on my way up the mountain flooded my mind, and I fell to the floor at the foot of the statue. On my knees, weeping, before this God I laid out my heart.

"God of Peace, forgive me for what I have done. I have fought for what is right, and I have fought for money. I have even fought simply because there was nothing else to do. Fighting is all I have, and I don't want it any more. The weight of the souls I've killed has trampled me down. I have carried that burden all the way up your mountain, and I lay it here now at your feet." I pulled my weapon, a halberd six feet long with a blade and a ball weight at the other end. I laid it in front of me.

"Please, take this burden from me. Take what I am. Leave me empty if you must, but relieve me of the horrors in my mind and my heart. And in return I will give you my service forever."

My sorrow overcame me and I doubled over, tears streaming down my face. My forehead on the floor all I could do was sob and whisper "please" over and over. It was a terrible moment for me, to be so badly broken. I who had stood before charges of cavalry and monsters. I who had led good men knowingly to their deaths. I had been cold. I had been fearless. Some would even say I had the courage of a hundred men. And yet, here I was, a sad and pitiful mess of a woman, weeping before a man of stone.

In my pain I heard a scuff of a foot on the floor, and a hand reached down and raised me up. Before me stood a man, dark of hair and skin, with eyes of blinding blue, wearing blue robes. His face matched exactly with the statue, but also reminded me strangely of the young boy who had led me in. He was the God of Peace, there in person, and I had no words to say. I had poured my heart out to a creature of marble, and a God of flesh and blood had come to answer me. The tears shone still on my face, and my mouth stood silent in awe.

"Daughter of War, so lost have you come to this place. I have seen your mind," he said, and as he did so all the worst things I had done flooded before me. My heart shrank, and I might have moaned in pain, but it was lost under his words.

"In you is all the pain and death any man can visit on another. You come to my house and expect me to forgive you?"

Anger was in his face and voice, his eyes hard as they looked at me. I was shaking with the memories he had invoked, and the fear his reaction caused. My head bowed I still stood before his wrath and spoke softly.

"Please Lord! I don't expect, I only ask."

"And it is because you ask that I have come. Very few of the children of War come to me. Most live their lives content with their lot, seeking sometimes the help of my sister to further their power on the battlefields of this world. Yet you climbed this mountain, the hardest to reach of my Temples. You climbed it of your own will, your own desire for forgiveness. You came a warrior to the place of ultimate peace, laid all that you were down in front of me, and simply asked.

"And in return for my forgiveness I receive a servant of Peace, trained by War."

At this he smiled, and it was radiant, and just as contagious as the boys laughter had been minutes ago. Hope kindled in me, hearing his words and seeing that smile. I smiled back, just slightly, knowing my heart shone in my eyes and I wasn't able to hide it. That suddenly didn't really matter.

"I accept your offering, though I think you will regret it before we are done."

With that he stepped away, backing from me until he merged with the statue behind him. For a moment those marble eyes shone blue, then it was gone and the Temple was silent. Confused I looked about me, but there was not so much as a single priest or servant to tell me what had gone wrong. I was grateful for his words, but they had left me so baffled. Behind me a door closed and the young boy approached, still with that amused smile.

"You will leave your arms and armor here."

He stood, crossing his arms and smiling at me. I blinked, and blinked again, not sure I'd heard the words right. But there he stood, clearly waiting for me, and so I began to strip.

First the easy things. The weapons belts, with the associated harnesses and daggers. Then the hardened armor itself, which was formed leather impregnated with wax. It had been made especially to fit me, and it was worn with use. I would have no used from it now. The buckles were hard to reach alone, but reach them I did. They too fell to the floor, chest piece, bracers and greaves. Finally I stood in just soft leather pants and a shirt. The boy nodded in satisfaction.

"Follow me."

He began leading me down another hallway, different from the one I had come through. I looked back, only once, at the pile of my things there in the floor. The remains of all I had been when I came in the door, and it faded away behind me like so much dust.

We arrived at a door. it appeared to be a closet, which was confirmed when it was opened. The boy began handing me clothes and directed me to put them on. There was a soft white shift, and a blue over robe. Soft blue boots replaced my worn ones, and a plain wooden staff was handed to me.

Once dressed the boy led me outside again, this time to the front of the Temple where the road down was. Why hadn't I come up that? Because penitents always came up the hard way. The road only went down, not up.

"You will travel from here in the South to our sister Temple in the East. On your way you will eat only what you can gather. You will not harm nor offer violence to any man or creature that should cross your way. Once you have reached that Temple the Priestess there will greet you and tell you what you are to do next."

I was astonished. It seemed that "accepting" my offer was contingent on me performing some sort of pilgrimage. I thought about it for a moment and decided it was more than fair. Anyone could come here and pledge service as I had done. This journey would serve to prove that I was serious. It would also prove that I could follow where I was lead. Having been a leader myself taking the subservient role was not easy. But this was what was asked of me, and so it is what I would do.

"I understand." I said with a solemn nod. The boy beamed at me, and waved as I walked away. I had nothing but the clothes I had been given and the staff to help me walk. I knew from maps that I had several hundred miles to walk before my journey would end at Contego's Eastern Temple.

There I was, and away I walked.

Posted: Sun Mar 18, 2012 2:53 pm

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