Free Amazon Moon by James A. Haught Page A

slip through the darkness to the corral, take a horse, and ride away into the night. When I reach Kavopolis, I can lead warriors back to this secret valley to wipe out the rebels."
    A sick feeling surged through me. The mental picture of Litha, Mitha, the Home Queen, the construction leader and all being slashed to death in an attack was horrifying. I stayed silent as my mind raced. I knew that Dalien correctly saw his obligation as a soldier and a Greek patriot. Yet I was dismayed. He was right: I had sold my soul to the enemy.
    "Well?" he asked in the dark. "Do you applaud my strategy?"
    I weighed my answer carefully. Finally, I told him: "You are a loyal soldier following the code of duty. You will be a hero in Kavopolis, praised in the Assembly. They may promote you to commander."
    I barely slept that night. The next day, I felt panic, wondering whether I should betray my friend to the Amazons, or whether I should remain mute until the women I had grown to like were slaughtered. Either choice seemed ghastly. I wavered from hour to hour.
    Two evenings later, Dalien was summoned by the War Queen herself. As he left for the bathing pool, he looked at me intently. "Bid me luck," he said.
    "Good luck," I said, hiding my inner strife.
    All evening I sweated and breathed hard, wavering between my two impossible choices. I couldn't sleep. I was wide awake and still undecided at midnight when I heard sounds approaching. I went to the door with three other slaves, and we saw a gory sight:
    Two Amazon warriors dragged Dalien's nude body to the doorway and dumped it, blood still oozing from knife wounds. One of the women announced:
    "Slaves, this is the fate of mutineers. Our War Queen suspected that your insolent friend had evil intent, so she stationed us behind a curtain with daggers as a precaution. We saved her from him. If we learn that any of you were his conspirators, you will suffer his fate."
    Next morning, all of us slaves were called outside, where Dalien's body still lay in the dirt. Women gathered to watch. It was a grim, tense time. We all stared at the corpse. Somehow, the death of an aristocrat seems more important that the death of a commoner. The War Queen, with purple bruises on her neck, observed silently. Another top warrior declared loudly:
    "A slave dared to attack a master. The penalty for such a crime is visible before you. As a warning lesson, the rest of the slaves will receive three lashes."
    We were lined up kneeling and each given three stinging cuts on our backs with a tough limb. Then we were forced to drag Dalien's body, toss it in the latrine pit and cover it with dirt. Octos looked at me sardonically.
    "What an end for the natural master, the natural ruler."
    My grief for my friend, and my pain from the lash welts, were too great for me to share his sarcasm.
    For several days afterward, a distrustful silence hovered over the village, and no slaves were summoned for night duty. But gradually the coldness faded and the routine of life resumed.
     

10
    In following days, we slaves sensed concern among the Amazons. They talked to each other in low tones. At first we wondered if they remained upset by Dalien's murder attempt. Then Ankus related what he heard:
    "Celeste, the warrior who was stabbed in the side during the attack on Malgon's squad, isn't healing properly. She's burning with fever and can't rise from her bed. All the Amazons are preparing to sacrifice goats and pray for her."
    Eila, the tall warrior-priestess who had played Aphrodite to my Eros, stood at her open-air shrine with its three goddess statues, welcoming women worshipers. Her tall headdress added more height to her sway over the gathering. Amazons led three white goats to three altars. The bleating animals were festooned with the brightest ribbons available in the village to make them pleasing to the goddesses. From the slave quarters, we could hear the women praying and chanting loudly, begging the goddesses to spare Celeste. I