The Matrii Festival

The tzagoi flew above the Tulanii stadium, above the Hii-zu, above the Chondu-raa, above the other clans. One of the tzagoi’s heads looked down at the majesty’s stage as the other glanced at the fighting arena. Then both looked into the horizon and vanished into the clear clouds.

The hureshes unraveled their neatly crafted lutes, zithers and harps; each troubadour has carved his instrument in a different color and shape: a tzagoi, a bison, a camel, a reindeer and even a narwhal. They all came from different lands to perform together at the Matrii Festival.

As hureshes unwrapped from the blubber linen their instruments, the arena boys wrapped the warriors torsos with the designated linen and metal plates.

The sun glittered on the crystals of Khadne’s crown. Her royal headdress, fastened by the three bronze arrows, was standing righteous as she was.

Three generations of chef commanders had the Queen Khadne welcomed at this event. This year the Council of Dowagers decided that there will not be any shamankas or councilors attending the event. The decision was left to the Queen of Arrows and her advisor.

The big winter storms have ravaged a good part of the Tulanii stadium which delayed the tournament.

Reunited, the tribes rebuild it in time. And the freshly cut pine trees wrapped with the smell of crispy snow emphasized a new start today.

Her Majesty took off her ivory camel gloves and dragged closer to her throne her cerulean reindeer cloak. “No Queens or warriors spill their tears, only blood”, she thought. Her Royal Highness shielded herself by hiding her grief for her beloved friend. She then lifted her casting goblet filled with maaze.

“What a wonderful day: the 8th day of tournament and the first of Matrii. We never celebrated like this before, did we?“, said Khadne.

“No your majesty.”, answered her advisor as he glanced at her glass.

“It is my celebration day, a glass of maaze will not disturb my judgement.”

The old man remained silent.

“Agh. Let us watch who has the sharpest mind and will know how to defeat the sharpest sword”, the Queen sipped politely at the drink. It was delightfully cold, but overly bitter at the end.

And there they were: the pair of tournament finalists. One of them will become today the Chef Commander, yet not for long.

Ayiina of Badma had put her sword in her white leather scabbard painted with summer flowers. Earlier her sword was sharpened with aztai stone, which as promised by Belek-Maa, would bring her the seat.

Yzyrga of Tomam counted her daggers. She then sharpened her comcuune and her teeth with tools used by her tribe: the Hii-zu.

Modun, the Master of hureshes, made the first pungent sound of his voice and lute. Others followed him with more lutes and tones. The vibration of the voices and instruments shattered the ice of the Golden steppe.

To the Yin’s children, the chanter’s face-changing masks appeared more horrid than their songs, as some of them ran away from their mothers and asragas and flocked in the first rows of the stadium to watch closer the final match and to salute their favorite hero.

As the warriors were armed for battle, the crowds began to cheer their entrance to the ring.

With the essence of the melody, Ayiina and Yzyrga walked towards each other while climbing the stairs. As they got closer to one another in one spirit they bowed their heads and with the same pace the hureshes dropped their strings.

Now only the wind was rumbling in the arena.

The fighters stood elegantly mirroring each other: with a left foot upfront and with the left palm pressed by the right fist. They were bowing rigorously and counting with ardor. By the sound of their breath one was filled with rage as the other was standing with more vigilance, waiting.

Yet their clamor brought more joy to the horde as they both raised their heads:

“Until our swords and spirits will break

May only the one the seat shall take!”

As soon as their last word has been spoken the artists changed their melody and their masks to announce that the last round of the Tournament of Commanders has started.

With a strong grip Yzyrga’s comcuune resonated first and rude into Ayiina’s sword.

Delicately and with precision, as she has been taught by a former Moon Warrior, Ayiina has defeated every single hit.

Each metal strike ignited Yzyrga’s mouth with rage. Opposite to her, Ayiina only inhaled and exhaled the last air of the winter.

After exhausting her opponent, the Chondu-raa warrior took her chance to kick Yzyrga and her comcuune to the ground.

Already smelling the bison skin from the commander’s seat, Ayiina raised her sword in the warm blizzard but the sharp metal claws of the tzagoi has stolen her weapon in a beat of a string.

She knew that Hii-zu clan kept the birds as their companions for hunting. However today she found out they used them in battles too.

Naked and in pain she lost her focus in favor of premature victory as she abandoned the sacred rules of the Moon Warriors: Do not be deceived by the past or the future, devote yourself only to the present. Finally she took her dagger of her belt.

I missed, she thought, clutching her dagger hard.

But Yzyrga’s boot made the knife fly higher than the bird. With furry and delight the Hii-zu warrior threw her fangs at her opponent’s neck.

Ayiina didn’t react to the bitting. She studied about the ancient clan for some time. She studied their attire, their weapons, the way they hunted and battled. The young fighter was reading all about them in the time-honored stories and fables. Still some secrets remained unprinted. Her great grandmother Dariima taught her not only to battle by the swing of the sword but also from the swing of the feather scratched by the wisest poets that have lived among the dynasties of all the Queens and other glorious warriors. Dariima had left many lessons in Ayiina’s heart. One of them resonated with her today: never let the anger enter your soul only contemplation.

Submerged in pain she devoted herself to the present.

Deep in the sun, a silver drop was shinning, unclenched like a needle in a woolen clew.

Ayiina took her chance and inserted Yzyrga’s hair pin straight into her abdomen.

Yzyrga howled the whole stadium, yet left the pin in her.

Abruptly she took Ayiina by her throat and locks of hair and made again a hissing pitch sound.

This time Ayiina learned it was not just another growl of her rival.

The eagle descended as a white mist to take Ayiina’s eyes out. It was a davkhar, much bigger than a single headed tzagoi. The wings of this living thing covered most of the sun and brought a cold shadow with it. Ayiina’s eyes were fixed on both of his heads. She never had seen it so up close. This majestic creature build with sharp and strong beaks will take her seat.

No, she frowned. The Chondu-raa warrior decided finally to use her secret weapon from her sleeve. She pointed at the beast and her Moon arrows drilled directly into its flying heart. It snowed with feathers for a while until the earth was covered by the remains of this symbolic creature.

Stayed in focus, Ayiina unchained from Yzyrga’s arms and pierced her throat with her third Moon arrow.

No more weapons were left on Yzyrga to be used.

From the start of the fight each of her boot daggers has been cut off and thrown elegantly in the dirt. Ayiina made sure to cut off every single metal Yzyrga had on her. Even the inserted pin of this toothy warrior which she had in her abdomen was pressed by the other hand of Ayiina’s.

The Chondu-raa knew that Hii-zu use every single weapon they have, they even transform every object into a weapon as they are being taught from childhood to become the greats hunters and fighters of this lands. And they know how to keep their title strong.

Yzyrga discerned at that moment that she has lost. She felt more pain in her pride than in her guts. Now she has to kneel as her adversary already subjugated her to the wooden floor, freshly painted in her blood.

“Die as a commander or ride next to me as my soldier!”, Ayiina brought the whole Tulanii with her voice.

Again only the wind roamed the arena.

At last the dry voice rose:

“Ride…”, pronounced Yzyrga carefully not to spill more of her blood on the sharp arrow.

“Then we should ride together until our end!”, Ayiina shouted again.

The crowd erupted with joy:

“AYIINA ! AYIINA! AYIINA! AYIINA! AYIINA!”

High in the tower a pair of eyes were watching the victory of the Chondu-raa warrior.

“She is to young your Majesty to lead the Yin army on her own. She will need an advisor to teach her how to become the true Chef Commander. The Great War will not merciful for such a young soul”, the old shoniin had spoken, his name is Su-Xem, but many call him The White shoniin.

He has been the advisor of three generations of Queens by now: Chayana The Queen of Peace, Evane The Moon Queen and now Khadne The Arrow Queen.

“An advisor she will have Su-Xem” , Khadne looked at all the clans cheering beside the ancient one: the Hii-zu.

“May I add your Majesty, that Ayiina used the Moon Warriors weapons and it is forbidden to…”

“If the Hii-zu dared to use their tzagois so as the Chondu-raa can use their ancestors secrets“, said Khadne.

“Your Majesty what about the Council of Dowagers?”

“Su-Xem, I will take care about the Council. Bring me the pipe“, the Queen’s words resonated like an ample wall for the old shoniin. The only gesture remained for him to do is to bow to his Majesty.

The Queen then raised above her throne and like a white fox in the snow approached the balustrade.

The audience spot the leader of this land one by one. And one by one took their seats back.

Su-Xem brought Her a tube made of birch and she delivered her speech as a true Queen of Yin:

“We all gathered in this day of The Matrii Festival and this year it is more special. In this day we celebrate two of our events opened by our commanders from Hii-zu and Chondu-raa and one of them earned the title of the Chef Commander. The Chef Commander who will rule all the armies of this lands. In tradition our ancestors watched and supported our future Commander, as has I and my advisor Su-Xem. Therefore I would like to congratulate both of you. You had been fighting with great skills and courage but only one should lead our soldiers into the battles as the other will stand and fight next to her.”

The Queen of Arrows stepped out of her royal tower and came into the fighting stage to coronate and congratulated the contestants.

In the meantime the arena boys wiped the blood off the fighters, folded their injures and took the pin out of Yzarga’s abdomen, applying gently the special creams made in the huts of the shamnakans to close the wounds so the diseases will never enter.

The queen approached the stage and rose higher than both competitors and took a stand in the middle.

Her Royal Highness glanced at Ayiina who already was bowing at Her.

Khadne was delighted by her future Commander, they shared both the same passion: archery and ancestry of the Moon Warriors.

“Ayiina the daughter of Badma of the Chondu-raa Clan, I Khadne the Queen of Yin, daughter of Chayana The Queen and granddaughter of Evane, pronounce you in this holly day of Matrii the Chef Commander of the Yin’s Army.”

The Queen then handed to the new Chef Commander the sword which was wrapped in the dark red leather sheath embroidered with bronze buckle and bronze chape at the tip. This custom sword was forged in Ankany city by the oldest and illustrious blacksmiths. The tang was wrapped with a narwhal tusk and across the double-edged blade was inlayed with a deft calligraphy in the language of unification: Protector of Yin.

Traditionally after Ayiina has unwrapped carefully the sword and admire every inch of it, she then raised it in the air. The balance of this weapon felt unique as if the blade become an extension of her arm, eager to go where she directed it.

The same feeling she had a few years back when she was only 14. She took in her hand another great sword, it was her grandmother’s sword. A gift given as her birthday present. With bad luck after a few days the young girl has lost it in the cliffs of the Moon Mountains. Ayiina was eager to shown off her new weapon to her childhood friend Fadzya with whom she practice the forbidden Moon topples. She remembered that day as if it was yesterday. Her mother made a decision to teach Ayiina an important lesson, "A lesson of responsibility", her mother said.

As Ayiina was standing with her new blade in the air, people cheered and chanted in one voice:

“May you protect OUR lands!”

The young Commander then pointed her sword in the middle supporting the handle with both of her hands.

Khadne took one more look at Chondu-raa and then turned to the Hii-zu warrior.

“And you Yzyrga of Hii-zu clan daughter of Tomam, I Khadne the Queen of Yin, daughter of Chayana The Queen and granddaughter of Evane welcome you in this holly day of Matrii as my soldier to the Yin’s Army.”

Her Majesty handed to the soldier a shield crafted as well in Ankany city: light as a feather but strong as a wall. The shield had symbols of Yin land: golden branch trees symbol off Unification of all five clans living under one tree.

“May you protect OUR Commander!”, shouted the people of Yin.