The Moonlight Warrior

Prologue

I am Kiena and I am a warrior. I am part of an elite race called the Protectors. We guard the forest and the creatures that live there from the human race. I am one of the Shield Maidens, the females of the clan. The men are called the Warriors.

From when we are small, we are trained to be fighters. There is no place for the weak. We do not accept weakness and can sense even just the smallest trace of it. Maidens are taught that secret ways of the bow and the subtleties of the knife. We can shoot with deadly aim and our eyesight is clearer than normal humans. The same with our hearing. We can sneak up behind you in plain daylight and you would not be able to see or hear us. We can smell a single human from a mile away. With one glance, I can know your emotions, your fears, and your thoughts. One look at you, and I will not forget who you are. We live longer than humans and hardly ever contract disease.

The warriors are taught to wield a sword with deadly accuracy. They are masters of swordplay and only one of them could defeat fifty men alone. I have forever longed to learn this awesome art form, but Maidens are not allowed to even touch a sword. If they just touch one, they are whipped cruelly. If they are trained to use one, they are either banished or sentenced to a painful death. The same with the Warriors; they are not allowed to use a bow or a knife.

When I was nine, my father, Sajone, saw one day watching as the Warriors of my age trained. He could see the envy and longing burning in my eyes. He decided to train me to wield a sword in secret. So in the shadows of the forest that surrounded my village, I learned. He would show me a move then I would practice until I got it right. Soon I was as good as the Warriors my own age. Since he would ony teach me according to what they were learning, I decided to start to teach myself ahead of them. I would watch the older ones train and then teach myself what they were doing. Sometimes I caught on really well and others took hours of practice to get right.

Now I was as good as those older than me. I now longed to be able to challenge them in a duel. I wanted to be congratulated for my accomplishment and not have to hide it.

Out of the entire camp, I had only one person that I never got along with Arcone. He hated me with a burning passion and I him. I never understood why but that's just the way it was. Aside from sword wielding and bow shooting, all the youth were taught the same things like wrestling and footracing. Even though Arcone could beat me in a race, I was still the stronger and could knock him down faster than anybody. Every time he would challenge me to a match, I would always beat him. He was no match for me. No one was. Then afterward, he would try to regain his honor by taunting me. He knew that I longed to wield a sword and used that against me. If only he knew what I could do to him if I was allowed.

My father was the blacksmith of the village and one day when I was fifteen, he gave to me an extraordinary gift: a sword of my own. He had been slaving for a year in secret to forge it and the time was well spent. The handle was shaped perfectly to fit my hands and was covered in intricate designs. The blade was three feet long with a double edge and wickedly sharp. A complex spiral was etched into it and wound around the blade from base to tip. The balance was carefully perfect. Its sheath was leather with elaborate spirals carved into it.

He presented it to me one day in the forest saying, "You have done well my daughter and for that I think you have earned the right to carry one of your own.

"Thank you, Father. I will use it well and take the utmost care of it." I said with reverence.

"I have taught you much and yet you still learn more. I see that you have no more need of my knowledge for you know almost all of it. From now on, you are on your own. I know that you can do it just believe in yourself and you will succeed at whatever you do." Then he bowed and I returned it. Then he left without another word.