CHAPTER 1
Without moonlight, the star-filled tropical sky was blotted out by an unusually low overcast. It seemed to hang in long tendrils, making the night black as pitch.
The village of females was quiet except for the soft crying and an occasional sob from the women who served the Amazon warriors. These loyal women were near total exhaustion from carrying the dead and wounded back from an intense battle.
The surviving golden skinned warrior women had carried the lifeless, inert body of their leader back from the battle against the Yano-Matis warriors. It was one of the few times in the history of this unique tribe of dauntless Amazon women that they had tasted defeat in such an agonizing way.
Many of the women warriors had been killed or were suffering from fatal wounds. Only a few escaped with minor cuts and bruises. Even they were defeated in spirit, especially when they saw their inspirational leader, Cassania, fall to her knees and wage a relentless battle from this kneeling position. Even from this vulnerable situation she was intimidating, swinging her machete at any enemy who dared charge this brave blonde warrior, jabbing her dagger at any foolish enough to get within her reach and past the arcing machete.
The Yano-Matis warriors had never, in their many battles, encountered such strength and fury.
Alas, she was outnumbered and finally overwhelmed by the battle-experienced hoard of skilled warriors. The many wounds soon took their toll on this magnificent fighting machine. She slumped to the ground.
The other golden skinned Amazon women had waged a relentless battle, and the forest was strewn with the bodies of Yano-Matis, some slain and many wounded.
But the women were outnumbered and were beaten by a superior force. The enemy had a brilliant and experienced leader as well.
And yet, that Yano-Matis leader was respectful of the fighting acumen of golden skinned women, and when he saw the blonde leader fall to her knees, waging that relentless battle, and finally succumb to overwhelming odds, he signaled his warriors to cease and fall back.
He saw the few remaining women warriors, bloody and beaten, stand staring at the body of their inspired leader. She was now lying inert on the ground, with wounds that no warrior could have survived, even with half as many major wounds.
The chief called a halt to the battle he knew he had won, but with deep respect for these outnumbered Amazon women who gave no quarter. They fought until only a few remained standing. Those that still stood slowly dropped their weapons and gathered around Cassania. All were grim. They stood abreast, three on each side, gazing down in disbelief at their champion who lay sprawled out in a beaten heap. They stooped and gently lifted the body of their inspirational leader, raised her high overhead, then slowly walked away from the field of battle. It was strewn with bodies of warriors from both tribes.
One of the women took command and instructed those left standing to collect their wounded and help them back to the village. She ordered one wounded young warrior to return to the village to alert the servant women to come help to collect the dead and other mortally wounded.
It was a slow, solemn ceremony, and the trek back to the village was led by the six women bearing the body of the blonde, golden skinned leader. They held her high and walked slowly, their own bodies bloody and beaten. These were the last remnants of the fabled Amazon women whose stories of battle and survival dated back to the fifteenth century when the first Portuguese invaders came to their land.
The Portuguese soldiers told tales of these huge blonde fighting women in the Amazon basin and thereafter, the stories of battle with these huge women who gave no quarter. They were called Amazons.
Some stories told of men fighting along with the women. The men were always on the forefront and were the first to be killed. If their men turned and ran or attempted to retreat, the huge women killed them before they could escape or turn tail.
Many different legends were told of why and how the fighting men became a part of their civilization.
Numerous unbelievable tales were told of the amazing feats of this tribe of women, some no doubt exaggerated, but nonetheless the tales kept growing and each told of the heroic battles waged by this aggressive civilization of tall women.
No one has lived long enough to experience the complete story of why or how this tribe of golden skinned women came to be, or even how long they have existed. There are many tales and stories told by the tribes that the warrior women were in the Amazon basin long before the Portuguese and Spanish. It was those foreigners that invaded this huge land of rivers and jungle. They were enticed by the rich natural resources and battled all indigenous tribes, as well as the women warriors.
How and when did the women come to this part of this world? Legend has it that the first savage women fighters were a group in the ancient region of Sarmatia, living in the steppes of the southern part of Russia 2,500 years ago. They were tall and blonde and fierce archers who cut off their right breast in order to shoot an arrow with more accuracy. They were a tribe of women, and only if they killed a man in battle were they allowed to mate. They then did away with the man or used him in battle at the forefront to take the brunt of enemy fire. None of the men would survive.
Legend has it that these brave and ferocious women migrated to Mongolia, where recent DNA tests have determined that descendants are living today, proving that the ancient tribe of women is not a myth.
Could the migration of some of these women have continued east to the present-day North America? Then south, looking for a new uninhabited area, to finally settle in the foothills of the Amazon basin? Yes, it's possible ... very possible.
We only know of what legends the early tribes and Europeans have passed on down in the last many hundreds of years.
Now, would this tragic battle be the end of these last vestiges of this unique civilization?
* * *
Nardania, the second-in-command, now gave orders as the beaten procession entered the village through the cleft in the rocks so cleverly hidden from the outside world.
"Take our leader into her hut, lay her on her mat, and summon the shaman to perform the last rites as is our custom. After she has finished, she can tend to the wounded. And lastly, after we have laid out the dead, she can also carry out the custom of last rites on them."
The able-bodied women did as they were told, and when all but Nardania left the hut, she knelt beside the woman that she so admired and had known from childhood.
She spoke quietly and respectfully to the bloody hulk lying before her, "I will clean and tend to you myself, my noble leader. We have faced and overcome many obstacles over these many years and no one will touch your body but me."
She gathered water and oils and prepared to clean and arrange the body of this magnificent creature. As she started on the beautiful face, she hesitated and stopped cleaning.
"Are my eyes playing tricks? Did I see an eyelid flutter?"
She carefully moved the blonde hair away and stared further at the face of the beloved leader.
"No. It must have been a nerve contraction."
She was wiping the mud and the blood from her face when a shallow, labored breath of air escaped from the slightly parted lips. She was aghast.
Nardania put her ear on the leader's breast and listened for some sign of life from the strong heart of this woman who had never lost a battle. It was very faint, but yes, there was a beat, though very slight and very slow, coming from her chest.
She quickly rose and scampered out, screaming for the shaman, "Come quickly," she called at the top of her voice. "Our leader lives. She needs your help. Bring herbs and anyone you need to help. Our leader's heart is still beating but she needs your help. Hurry ... hurry."
Nardania ran back into the hut, followed quickly by the shaman and her assistants.
They quickly took charge and immediately started applying salves and ointments to the wounds. They worked for hours, stitching and attending to the worst wounds first.
The shaman attempted to pour a vial of liquid into Cassania's mouth. Most of it dribbled down her chin, but some ran into her throat — very little, but enough. She gagged and a low groan escaped from her lips.
Soon they had done all they could and the beloved leader lay very still on her mat, covered with a light woven shawl.
As they gazed at the inert body lying before them, there was a very slight movement of the shawl. Short breaths came from the lips of their patient now on a regular but shallow basis.
They set up a watch over her so that she would never be alone and in need of something.
That night, a ceremony calling on the spirits, was performed by all the shamans around a fire in the main courtyard. It was an age-old ceremony intended for all the dead and dying but also with great emphasis on the recovery of their leader.
The population of the village had vastly changed. It now consisted of many more servant women of normal stature and of varied ethnic backgrounds. The tall blonde warriors, always in the minority, were even fewer now. The battle was extremely costly.
This change greatly affects the future of the tribe of blonde warrior women, a lineage that spans hundreds of years and spanned several continents.
CHAPTER 2
The days passed slowly. Nardania kept a vigil by her leader's side, even sleeping on the ground next to Cassania's mat. When she had to leave for a short time to tend to village business, she assigned two women to stand guard and come running if any change occurred.
This constant vigil and the duty to take charge of the village were becoming threats to her health. She also had wounds that must heal from that dreadful battle against the warriors of Yano-Matis. She had fought relentlessly. Yes, they indeed were formidable foes.
She was resting in the shade after finishing the noon meal served to her by one of the servant women when several of her warriors approached and stood waiting for permission to speak.
She looked up and in a low tone asked, "Yes, what is it?"
One of the warriors stepped forward and said, "Forgive us, Nardania. We wonder about the condition of our glorious leader. We only get rumors and second-hand information."
Nardania stood and answered, "Forgive me for not keeping everyone informed. She is our leader and all are concerned. Please pass on the information that she is still unconscious, but seems to be getting some strength back. Her wounds were devastating and the shamans are doing miracles with the herbs and roots that they gather in the jungle. We are able to hold her head up and allow some broth to trickle down her throat. She will occasionally stir and moan but does not respond to outside stimulus."
"Will she survive?" asked another.
"Of course she will," Nardania firmly and loudly stated as she abruptly turned to head back to the hut.
As she entered, she quietly asked, "Is there any change?"
The tallest warrior turned and said, "You've only been gone a short time. There is no change. Why don't you go to your hut and rest yourself? You look terrible and we can watch over our leader as well as you."
"It is my duty as second-in-command to watch over her."
"And what good are you in your weakened condition if our leader needs help? We can summon you and the shaman if need be."
Nardania's shoulders sagged. "You are right, of course. I will stop to see the shaman for some healing herbs and then go to my hut to heal my body so I can be of help when our leader comes to." She respectfully stroked Cassania's blonde head, then turned and left the hut, mumbling, "Call me if there is any change."
* * *
Weeks passed. Nardania had set up a scheduled watch of two women at all times to be with their beloved leader while she lay unconscious. She was well cared for, with daily sponge baths and bedding changes. Care was given to her wounds, which were healing nicely, with aloe and other healing herbs administered by the shaman.
The Amazon women were far advanced in medical procedures compared to some of the tribes in the rain forest. Nardania's wounds had almost completely healed and she was finally able to bring the village together. She was faced with the loss of over half of the total population, mostly the warriors and hunters. Much work and many assignments were needed to heal the sick and bury the dead. She took charge, trying to help the village recover from a devastating loss.
It was a sunny, pleasant afternoon when a servant woman came running to Nardania's hut with the news that Cassania had opened her eyes and was very restless.
"Nardania, she keeps calling for you and is thrashing about like she is still in battle. Her eyes, though open, are glazed and not seeing."
Nardania jumped to her feet and cried, "Run to get the shaman and bring her to our leader's hut. I will meet you there."
As Nardania burst into the hut, she saw two of her warriors holding Cassania down in her mat. Cassania was fighting and seemed to draw on a strong force from within. Some of her wounds were seeping from the extreme activity. The warriors were doing all they could to contain her.
Nardania held Cassania's head and spoke into her ear with gentleness, "Please, great leader, lie back so we can treat you. The battle is over. You are at home with your friends."
Cassania seemed to lighten her struggles for a moment but resumed with even more strength, then suddenly she collapsed, spent and weak from the extreme effort.
She was panting in short breaths when the shaman entered with her bags of herbs and roots.
"Please, Shaman, save our leader," begged Nardania.
"Move aside and I will do my best," she answered.
The shaman withdrew a vial and poured a combination of liquids into it. She said, "I'll need two of you to elevate her head and shoulders but keep her steady. Nardania, I'll need you to hold her mouth open and then keep her from spitting up the liquid that I will pour down her throat. Quickly, do as I say."
The shaman poured the bitter liquid down the throat of the struggling Cassania. She forced it down as Cassania tried to reject it but was too weak to battle the four strong women. It trickled down her throat.
She coughed, trying to reject the liquid. But after a slight delay she slowly succumbed to the drug and now lay quietly on her mat.
"What will happen now?" Nardania asked the shaman.
"She will rest peacefully for a few days and then we must do this again. We must keep her in a state where she is not aware of her surroundings until her body heals to the point where she can restore her senses so that she no longer needs to battle. We may need to keep her this way for a complete cycle of the moon, maybe even longer if her wounds don't heal well. I will keep one of my assistants with her at all times. I may require help to administer the drug every few days. Nardania, I will depend on you for this help."
"I will be at your beck and call when needed," answered Nardania.
* * *
The next two months passed slowly as the more seriously wounded warriors died and funerals were common. The other wounded were treated but some would never fight again. The Amazon army was decimated, with only a few able-bodied warriors left.
Since the servant women had more freedom without the Amazon's watching over them, they grew more independent. Some of these women were captured during raids on tribal villages along with some men of choice to perpetuate the growth of the tribe. The women were kept to serve. The men were disposed of after their usefulness was over.
A few men had been confined recently, and when the women found more freedom, a few rebellious ones turned the men loose and they all escaped together. Other women were born in the village, and though young, they did not meet the standards of the Amazon warriors and were made servants. They too were unhappy with their plight, so again these women escaped into the jungle.
Through the ages, the Amazons were very particular of the men they captured to copulate with. They must be big, tall, light skinned, and healthy. It was more and more difficult since now armies, such as the Portuguese and Spaniards, were no longer raiding the basin as in the ancient times.
