A Tale of Traitors

Lost Memories: Kaedah

Realm One, 9 years ago:





          She had a love-hate relationship with the woods now. She used to hate it, with its terrifying animals and sounds and all the mud after the rain, but then she loved it when her best friend Calysia showed her the beautiful things to be found in it. It had been three years since Calysia and her whole family were banished, shoved into the blue fire by Tormod's guards.



But she would always miss Calysia.



          Now she couldn't look at the woods without thinking of her lost friend, whom she knew was dead the instant the flames licked her green skin. It wasn't fair, but she supposed it was time to move on now. She wished more and more that there was something she could do to help people like Calysia, to fix the injustice of their society. If there was anything she could do, she would do it, and she told herself so. Willow had always liked to talk to herself, especially when no one was around. And no one usually was. So, she chattered away, unleashing her brutally honest opinions about the nastiness of the system and the terrible ruler Tormod. She held absolutely nothing back, she wanted to shout it from the treetops. If she shouted, though, she would probably be heard by someone and could end up dead like Calysia. That wouldn't help society at all. 

          The glittery leaves cracked under her bare feet, and she stole a glance at the tips of the colorful trees. It was almost too painful being back here alone, all the while carrying the memories of a friend—a sister, really—who was lost long ago. It was like being stuck in a dream that you know ends bad even though the beginning and the middle are so sweet. Even though the dream is good, that's all it is, and there's still the impending doom yet to be discovered. She was upset, of course, but more than that she was angry. Furious. Fuming. And she let the trees hear all about that.



CRACK!



"I'm not alone," she whispered to herself, head spinning to hear the crack of a stick she had stepped on just a moment ago. "Hello?" She called over the branches and stones. "Who's there?"

"Don't be afraid of me, little girl," a cloaked figure came out of the trees behind her.

"Who're you?" Willow stepped back from him, looking for a direction to run in if she had to.

"I'm sorry about your friend." Was all the figure said, his face and body entirely covered in shadows and the dark cloak. It seemed that the trees around him were just a touch darker than the rest of the woods, and the animals stopped their chattering when he was near.

"You were listening to my talking?" She said slowly as she realized how long she had been speaking of Calysia.

"Most of it," she could just see a smile peaking from under the hood of his cloak. "I have to agree with you."

"About what?" She said, curious as to what the man wanted from her.

"Tormod is evil."

The words shocked her into silence.

"Our world is messed up now, because of him."

"Please don't tell anyone, Sir," her voice broke in fear.

"I won't, Darling," he took a step closer. "We wouldn't want to get you in trouble."

"We?" She asked nervously.

"My friends and I," the man removed his hood and her eyes beheld the grey face full of warts and a massive scar by his eye—and the rolls of fat down his neck—

"Who are you?" She said in complete disbelief. This can't be happening.
 Kaedah weren't real. Just stories parents tell their kids to keep them out of the woods.
"My name is Damian," the man smiled at her once more. "Would you like to see Tormod defeated in your lifetime?"

She hesitated, then nodded.

"Would you like to see his Exterminators defeated?"

"Yes! They hurt my friends," her brow furrowed.

"Mine too," he said sadly. "They killed my daughter when they came last year."

"I'm sorry, Sir," Willow approached him and put her hand in his, eyes carrying the trust that little kids so easily give away.

"I'm sorry for your friends, too."

          The woods was dead in suspense, as if it was holding its breath to listen to the conversation of the man and the little girl that he led deep into the woods, away from society, from spies, from everything wrong. There was something being sparked in their conversation, something even the trees wouldn't dare whisper about, something powerful beginning that marked a new age. Perhaps this age would even be the last. It had been centuries since Kaedah and Elves had spoken as equals, much longer since they spoke together as allies united against a common foe.



The deepest parts of the woods had never beheld an Elf before.



The real concern that the trees carried was not that Willow was there, but if she would ever get to go home. 









Realm One, four years ago:





          Willow's back smacked the concrete ground and made such a nasty sound that the Kaedahs observing her gave sympathetic grunts.

"What was that for?" She spat in annoyance, rubbing her back and shooting to her feet.

"You lose focus easily," Damian responded nonchalantly. "If I don't teach you that, Exterminators—or worse—will."

"Okay, but... OW."

"Let's take a break," he chuckled, unfazed by her pain. "I'll get us some water."

          She nodded but said nothing, so he headed towards the shack they called a kitchen to get it. In the meantime, she took a seat on an overturned log next to Treiu, one of the older Kaedah men training under Damian. The heat of the day was in full effect, but the branches from the few trees surrounding the clearing certainly helped to cool them down. 

"You're good," Treiu shrugged as she sat next to him. "Not great, but good."

"Thanks," she rolled her eyes and wiped sweat from her forehead. "I'd be better if he didn't know all my weak spots already, like he has for years. Besides, he comes at me full-force."

"You're sayin' Exterminators aren't gonna come at you full force?"

"'Course not. I'm just saying it's not like they're going to know all my weak spots and viciously attack them. I could knock out an Exterminator. Slit through their armor. Regardless, though, I'm a tiny girl, not much I can do against a big man like Damian in hand-to-hand combat."

"He wants to make sure you're protected."

"Yeah, I get that." Willow sighed and glanced at the sun. "I'm sorry. I'm more than grateful to be here. I shouldn't complain about anything. It's just frustrating to be humiliated in front of everyone."
"Your fall was pretty bad."

"Gee, thanks." They both laughed.

"You're about to see Damian kick my butt, too," he said cheerily.

"If you manage to punch him in the face, will you do it for me?" She joked.

"Sure, I'll defend your honor."

"Thank you very much."

"Don't mention it." A moment of silence elapsed.

"You know, as a little kid I almost ran home screaming when Damian approached me in the woods. The Kaedah have a really, really bad reputation, and that's unfortunate."

"I think any smart little girl would have run away when a strange, scary man approaches them in the woods when they're alone." He chuckled.

"I'm a little more curious than smart. Either way, I'm glad I was stupid enough to follow Damian."

"What made you want to follow him?"

"I think it was because no one ever really listened to me," Willow hesitated, nervous to share such personal information. She decided she would. "My parents and siblings really—uh—love Tormod. It's like they're brainwashed. Everyone around me is, actually. The nobles, royalty, wealthy, it's like they're all completely deceived by this terrible guy. I never really understood. I don't see this super-smart ruler that my parents do. I see someone who's evil. Damian listened to me and understood. He presented me with the opportunity to train for war. To make an actual difference instead of waiting for someone else to do something. I couldn't believe anyone else wanted Tormod gone as much as I did. It still seems too good to be true, being here with you crazy people."

"Crazy?" He raised an eyebrow. 

"Sorry. I meant absolutely, completely insane." She laughed.

"Believe it or not, you might end up being crazier than all of us."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, I just saw Damian nearly break your back on a rock, and you're already itching for a rematch, aren't you?"

"What's wrong about wanting to punch him?"

"Nothing. You just won't stay down. That's kinda crazy if you ask me."

"Next one who wants humiliation, step right up," Damian announced, circling the stone pit. Treiu stood up, but turned back to face the young woman.

"Then again, that's the kind of crazy we're gonna need against the king, huh?"




Realm One, two years ago:





          Exterminators wreaked havoc on tribes 11 and 12, slaughtering men, women, and children alike. The scene was always the same, except for each year the Exterminators got better and better at the hunt. Bodies fell like raindrops, their blood merging into pools that watered the grass and plants and trees. Laughter followed, the maniacal sound being the last the fallen would ever hear. 


Willow had never seen the Exterminators in action with her own eyes before, but she knew she couldn't stop to process the horrific scene. 


"This is what you've trained for, Willow," Damian had said with intense seriousness just an hour before. "I'll be right there with you, and I won't let anything happen to you. Understand?"

"Yeah. I'm ready," she had responded. 



Now that the moment had arrived, she wasn't so sure that she was ready.



          She didn't even know where to start. Everyone needed saving, but she knew she couldn't save everyone. Her eyes locked on a little boy whose hand just slipped out of his mother's grasp. There. A few Exterminators were headed his way, and she sprung into action. Heart pounding, sword sliding into her hands, feet pouncing off the ground with the grace and speed of a leopard, she knew she wasn't going to let anything happen to that little boy.
 She slammed the first Exterminator's unguarded head into a tree with all her might. He slumped down, unconscious, while she sliced her sword down the spine of another. She knew it wouldn't pierce his armor, but he was so surprised that when he turned around, he was defenseless, and she whipped him backward like how Damian had struck her in training all those years ago. She hated the darkly satisfying crunch of the Exterminator's spine shattering against the earth. She scooped the child into her arms and pursued his mother, who was frantically looking for him.

"Mommy!" The boy yelled through his tears. The young woman turned around just for a moment. The sunlight danced upon her gorgeous green skin and reflected its brilliance in her kind eyes. Eyes that had seen too much pain for just one lifetime. The woman sought Willow's gaze just for a second. Bullets. Blood. Willow shielded the little boy's eyes as the woman who was once alive, watching them, died before her innocent head hit the ground. 

"MOMMY," the boy started to cry over and over. Willow didn't bother telling him it was going to be okay, that he was going to be safe, that Mommy would be back soon. Trembling, she held him close and sought safety. A man pushed through the crowd and reached out for the child, so she reluctantly handed him over.

"Good luck," she yelled to the man as they split ways, the crowd tearing them apart and threatening to trample her if she didn't stay alert. Her head throbbed with emotions: sadness for the boy, fear and adrenaline in her own body, compassion for all those around her who were running, complete helplessness as she realized this hate might never stop, and something that was stronger than everything else.



Absolute rage at this injustice. 



          Turning to where the woman's body had fallen, she locked eyes with the Exterminator who had stolen an innocent mother's life. He had the audacity to laugh at her while he shot another Elf just a few feet away.

"Fifty-eight dead, Captain," he loaded his gun with another round of bullets, then aimed it at Willow. "Fifty-nine..."


She bounded forward and tackled the Exterminator down the side of the muddy hill.


"WILLOW!" Damian shrieked when he saw her run out of view. For the first time in over a decade, he felt true fear shake him to the core. One daughter had been savagely torn from him. But he wouldn't dare let this one down. "WILLOW!"

"Over here," she faintly called after the crowd had died down. She was more calm than he had anticipated. He sprinted to the source of the sound, about a ten foot drop down from where he was standing. Willow's face was smeared with someone else's blood, and it was streaked into her hair and coating her clothes and sword.

"Are you okay?" He asked earnestly, not bothered by the fact that his fear was evident on his face.

"Yeah," Willow answered, nodding at the dead Exterminator who was lying at her feet. "He's not."

"That's my girl." He offered his hand and pulled her up out of the ditch. Her hand was still shaking viciously, but he didn't mention it. "The Exterminators have moved to higher ground now. We're no longer in the middle of the fight... we'll be seeking them out."

"Let's go. We can't waste more time." Willow led the way, sprinting after the Exterminators. 

          The battle raged for a few more hours. Most of the Exterminators were so stunned that they were being fought against that they didn't fight back as strongly as Damian had anticipated. Willow, he observed, was an absolute beast. She fought with a rage and passion that he had never seen before in men or women. Or even himself. She was losing control, observing all the bodies and the hurt. He doubted she had ever seen Exterminators at work before on a day such as today. No one should ever have to witness such death as this. He knew that regardless of her own pain, Willow would choose to be here, putting her life on the line amid blood and death and grief, again and again if it meant saving just one life. Bringing justice a little closer to their realm. Slowing Tormod down just a touch. He was extremely, incredibly proud of her and how far she had come. She took down more Exterminators that day than any other troop of his had been able to kill on their own. For her, the battle was only just beginning, even as they started to clean their swords. Now that she had chosen to fight against Tormod, she had officially removed herself from society and from her family. She didn't want them holding her back, so she had fled their home in the night and decided to stay with the Kaedah for as long as they would have her.

          Willow and Damian were the last of their troops to come home that evening, as Willow had insisted on tracking down every last Exterminator. Since Damian refused to leave her in harm's way, he had come too. It was past midnight when they finally trekked back home and were greeted by a round of applause from the dozen people that were waiting for them to come back. Willow was incredibly surprised by this, and that was evident on her blood-stained cheeks when they didn't form a smile. Everyone congratulated her and clapped her on the back and offered a toast... but something was just off... 
 It was almost as if she couldn't breathe and just needed space. Her head was throbbing, maybe from lack of water and food. Maybe a lack of thinking space. She shut the door to her tiny bedroom and slouched on the bed, not wanting to move or do anything. With her adrenaline still pumping through her veins, she wrote with a shaky hand in her journal to improve her fighting strategies and then left for the shower and waited her turn to use it, taking the time to scrub the blood off of her face and hands. She cleaned her sword fully, not letting any speck remain on the blade. When she was finally in the shower she was alarmingly focused on cleaning the dirt and dried blood from her flowing hair. She didn't take the time to enjoy the hot water on her face. She didn't feel she deserved to enjoy it.

          Damian was waiting for her outside when she was finished.

"What's wrong?" Was all he said.

"I've never killed someone," she started. "Well, before today."

He stayed silent, so she continued.

"I had to."

He nodded in silence.

"It was either kill those men or let them kill other men, women, and children, too. But it doesn't feel right."

"That feeling never goes away."

She hesitated before saying, "I'm a bad person."

"No, Willow, you're not."

"Those men will never breathe again. Because of me."

"Yeah. You're right. But dozens of men, women, and children will keep breathing after today because of what you did."

"We can't save everyone. This is so unfair."
He nodded.

"A little boy I saved today watched his mother die. I wasn't there for her."

"You can't put that on yourself."

"But I was so close." Her lip quivered. She cleared her throat. "That boy is going to have issues for the rest of his life. I'll go see if I can find him tomorrow, maybe I can ask his father how they're doing."

"That's kind of you."

"It's literally the least I can possibly do."

"Most people wouldn't think to do that."

"Most people turn a blind eye to this genocide, and it's disgusting. I don't want to be blind to it... even though seeing it makes me sick... when I close my eyes I just see that woman... dropping..."

He said nothing.

"Does this ever get easier?" She whispered, knowing if she spoke louder the tears would pour out.
 He looked down into those white eyes, whose shattered innocence reminded him so much of his daughter's, and wrapped his arms around the girl who now shook with sobs. 

"You're a good person, Willow," he spoke gently. "All of these things will bother you for the rest of your life. It doesn't get easier, no use lying about it. But I promise that all of this fighting is worth it."

She continued to sob, and Damian ceased to speak. 



He never told her that he would have done anything to help her if he only could. But she knew.



She never told him that it meant the world to her to have someone in her life who truly cared about her. Who trusted her with a calling more important than any she could have chosen for herself. But he knew. 



Everything in her being called for her to remember what she'd been through. Instead, she was plagued by mere fragments of thoughts of blood and tears.