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...
