Chapter 24 Azahara
Azahara
They arrived at the camp just after lunch.
Azahara decided to join Zhal on Noxus for the rest of the journey, giving Kaed the chance to ride beside the Order on Moondancer.
At first, Kaed hesitated, but he eventually agreed after Zhal reassured him with a determined look and a promise to keep Azahara safe.
When they arrived, the outpost rested in a meadow that had once been nothing but barren land.
There were several tents of various sizes, netting and lightweight modular structures, forming a proper framework for their needs.
They headed inward towards the central hub which stood as its command center.
The outpost bustled with activity. Soldiers were packing up supply crates, as if they were preparing for departure. Most of them appeared quite enthusiastic, with some even seeming a bit tipsy.
Those that paid them mind, all fixed their eyes on Azahara, their gazes unwavering.
Zhal did her best to shield her, draping the jacket she had offered over Azahara’s shoulder and head.
Yet, the onlookers persisted, maneuvering around their group to catch a glimpse.
Some whistled, while others howled like dogs.
“Pigs,” Zhal spat in disgust.
Azahara remained silent. She had always kept her distance from the Order and the king’s military, fully aware that this was precisely what she had anticipated.
At the command center, they dismounted their horses, and no one dared to approach Noxus or Starlight.
“The tent over there,” the General said, pointing to one a few rows back from where they stood. “It’s empty. The Vaeragi and the redhead will stay there until we’re done.”
Azahara furrowed her eyebrows. “Excuse me?” Her voice carried a note of defiance. The General narrowed his eyes at her. “You don’t command me.” Her shoulders straightened, and she never once averted her gaze from his.
While the General made face for his subordinates, she could feel his resolve wavering. What she wouldn’t pay to have him bow to her at that moment. A vibrating feeling trembled at her fingertips, and she curled them into a fist.
“Ranger, you know our rules. No women, unless sworn members of the Order, will ever—”
Azahara cut him off. “He does not command me either.”
Kaed forced back a smile. There was no disrespect towards him, but no one would tell her what to do.
They stood there for a beat, but surprisingly, Illyan came to her side. “Ladybug, I will be with Kaed. The quicker we get this done, the better.” Their gentle hand calmed her racing heart.
Without another word, she whirled around and walked off toward the tent, Zhal on her tail.
“Women. Can’t live with them...” His voice faded into the background as Azahara tuned it out.
How had the misogyny in this realm become even worse than it was five hundred years ago?
Back then, women weren’t even allowed to fight in armies, and now that they could, the thought of being around these men would make her contemplate switching sides without hesitation.
Upon entering the tent, they found the interior to be modest and utilitarian, designed to maximize space efficiency while providing the essentials for comfort.
Natural light filtered through the fabric, casting a soft, diffused glow.
At the back of the tent were two cots, each with blankets and a sleeping mat.
A table and chairs sat to the side, and boxes lined the walls.
The smell of dust and dirt lingered but felt as clean as possible.
“Infuriating!” Azahara said, slamming her foot against one of the boxes, cracking it.
Zhal crossed her arms and leaned against the beam in the middle of the room. “You really flustered that General.”
Azahara removed her sweater and adjusted her brown shirt, tucking it into her simple black pants. The heat and feeling of being restricted made her pull it out immediately. She ran her fingers through her hair as she paced back and forth in the small space.
“Relax,” Zhal said calmly.
Azahara stopped moving and tilted her head back. “How do you do it?”
“Do what, exactly?”
“Ignore it,” she groaned. “Gods, the way your father was towards you, I would have lost it. I’m ready to lose it. I need your resolve.” Azahara let her shoulders drop and looked over at Zhal.
Pushing away from the beam, she traversed the small space.
Zhal only needed two steps to cover ten feet and stand before Azahara.
“I was trained to be this way since birth. It’s not something I wanted.
” Azahara watched as Zhal lifted her hand towards her but swiftly put it down back at her side. “I do not want to be this way.”
Azahara craned her head. “You radiate power. I want that. I don’t want people to treat me the way they do just because I look like some weak woman.”
Zhal raised an eyebrow. “You also radiate power.” Azahara shook her head in protest. “Height doesn’t equate to power.”
That wasn’t the point I was trying to make… She thought.
A sigh of relief came as Zhal kneeled, giving her a respite from craning her neck. “The General was trembling under your gaze. You had the power, whether it was because he was being turned on, or out of fear.”
Surprise registered on her face. “If that were the case, we would be in that tent right now, not here.”
“If the Fae would have allowed you just a few more moments, he might have buckled,” Zhal said with a shrug. “Either way, his men saw you challenge him and Kaed.”
Regret washed over Azahara. “I didn’t mean to...”
“Yes, you did,” Zhal interrupted. “The Elf will survive. His feelings weren’t hurt.” Zhal managed to convey various emotions in her voice without altering her expression.
Azahara felt a sense of security when Zhal was around. Not just because of her physical strength, but because her entire presence exuded power. She wanted Kaed, Illyan, and Zhal to feel that way when they were with her.
“Zhal.”
“Yes?”
“If I asked you to train me, would you?” The surprise that crossed Zhal’s expression told her she might be asking for too much, too soon. “I want to have power behind my words. While I am agile, I am no warrior.”
Zhal didn’t hesitate. “Yes. You don’t need to ask anything of me. Remember that.”
Azahara nodded, determined to continue asking, even if Zhal didn’t believe she owned her. They would be equals, just as Illyan had made her their equal, even if they sat atop a higher peak that mortal kind couldn’t reach.
“In your way. Train me as if I were to become a Vaeragi warrior,” Azahara insisted.
Zhal pressed her lips together, recognizing that Azahara was making a significant request. “Your Elf won’t like that,” she warned, standing and taking a deep breath. “He won’t like it one bit.”
“It’s a good thing that he, nor anyone else, makes decisions for me,” Azahara replied with determination.
The small space in the tent was inadequate for them to start training immediately, so they decided to wait until they left the camp, and would dedicate time each day to it.
Kaed would be a different challenge; she’d have to persuade him to let her have this. How could she be prepared for whatever was coming if she had to hold back in training for fear of getting hurt? It wouldn’t be easy to convince him, but she was determined to do it before they began the next day.
As hours passed, the sun rose high over the tent, making it difficult to stay inside due to the heat. They stepped outside for relief, feeling the cool breeze welcoming them.
The sky was clear, a testament to how unpredictable the weather was in this part of the realm. Zhal stood to her right, just inches away. The sound of approaching footsteps drew Azahara’s attention away from the sky.
Three soldiers, two humans, and an Ossodian, approached from around their tent. “Hello, ladies.” Zhal stepped in front of Azahara protectively. “Wow, call the dog off. We’re just here to introduce ourselves.”
Azahara placed a hand on Zhal’s arm and glared at the male who had spoken. “Disrespect her again, and you’ll find yourself with the rest of the trash in Xrypt.”
A wicked, uninviting smile curled on their lips. “Dirty little mouth.” They laughed, and Azahara rolled her eyes. “Didn’t realize a goddess walked among us.”
“What a terrible punchline—first, you say she has a dirty mouth, and then you immediately try to flirt with her,” the Ossodian male remarked, playfully punching the man’s arm. Were they drunk? “You’re not wrong, though. What’s your name, beautiful?”
Zhal looked down at Azahara. “Would you like me to silence them?”
Azahara smiled at her and looked at the three boys, who visibly stiffened. They didn’t step back, but she could tell they were preparing to run.
“Listen, there’s no need for violence. We would never hurt her.
” The third male spoke, raising his hands in defense.
“We’re just drinking over there in the common area.
We get to go back to our posts tomorrow and just wanted to celebrate.
Having a lovely lady with us would be the icing on the cake. ”
Azahara wasn’t entirely convinced that they wouldn’t harm her. Moreover, she could only imagine how the rest of the camp might react, given even a hint of vulnerability around her.
“No, thank you, though. Enjoy your... celebration,” she replied with a sour tone. But almost immediately, a thought crossed her mind. “Actually,” she quickly continued. “What exactly are you celebrating? Just going home?”
The Ossodian jumped in, sensing that they may have a chance with her curious question. “The raiding party was stopped two nights ago.”
“Oh? I wasn’t aware of a raiding party,” she lied. “It’s fortunate that you managed to stop it before they stumbled upon us in the forest.” Her head tilted as she scrutinized each of their expressions.
Zhal had been right about one thing; Azahara did possess some power, albeit not the kind she would prefer to flaunt, but it served her well in moments like this.