As we slid on, I forgot to count off the days. The sun had disappeared behind the glaciers and no longer rose. Beams of green, orange, purple, and white light carved through that endless night, tearing open the black sky. Wolves howled in the distance, setting off furious barking competitions among the dogs. Nicea wriggled beneath my coat and shrieked with them.
White bears sitting on blocks of ice watched us pass. Silvery foxes flitted across the snow and hid behind large white rocks. The People of the Volcano hunted hares and creatures with thick fatty skin and bristly mustaches and that, when glimpsed in the distance, looked like mermaids.
A black volcano with a glowering red summit loomed through the misty darkness. Soon I could make out its lava flow: scarlet waves and crimson sparks edging down its flanks and spilling into the sea. We camped on the red and black rock, dotted with patches of snow. The men set to work extracting blocks of metal from mines and transporting them to the foot of the volcano. On the other side, where the earth's blood flowed, a series of reservoirs had been dug into the slopes as well as canals to deflect the lava. By opening successive sluice gates, the People of the Volcano made the incandescent flows run over metal positioned in the upper reservoirs. They directed the molten metal toward reservoirs lower down, and these in turn spewed the red-hot liquid into molds in the shape of swords, bludgeons, and sickles.
The women gathered the tarnished black blades, beat them out, and dunked them in the snow. The Great Mother led these ceremonies, invoking the souls of warriors of the glacier to be incarnated into these weapons, which grew light, razor-sharp, and indestructible. So it was that the Amazon girls had been able to fight men since time immemorial. So it was that Alestria had broken through Alexander's shield when we confronted each other for the first time.
We returned to the land mass when spring came round again.
The Great Mother pronounced an oracle, and the men started cutting down pine trees and building boats. The women went down onto the beach and dug in the sand with their weapons, creating a wide channel sloping up the beach. The gray whales, great floating islands bearing whole populations of shellfish and seaweed on their backs, resurfaced and dazed us with their wailing song. Summer returned, and caribou spread throughout the kingdom. On the day singled out by the God of Ice, the men launched their vessels on the sea. In among the whales they found the queen with red and yellow markings, and they threw spears and stones at her.
The whales were quick-tempered. When their queen was angry, she spewed columns of water and stirred up giant waves that overturned the boats. But the People of the Volcano carried on harrying her. Maddened with rage, she gave chase to her attackers, setting off up the channel and throwing herself onto the shore.
The death throes of the queen of the ocean were accompanied by celebrations. Out among the waves the other whales circled, singing their mournful song for many days and nights before electing a new queen and heading off toward the south. The whale meat was salted and kept for lean years. Her skin became roofing for huts; her grease, oil for lamps; and her bones, pillars bleached by the wind, formed a gigantic alleyway along which, I was told, the God of Ice would come.
Autumn came round again. The grasses turned yellow and dried out, the birds flew south, and the caribou set off once more. On clear evenings when the stars twinkled in the sky, the Great Mother stood by the fire and sang:
I, Alexander, the warrior from the other side of the mountain, could not feel my queen's gentle caress. I could not tell her how much I loved her. I drank in her body, embraced her soul, lived in her eyes, in her laughter, in her happiness at having me by her side.
When the migraines struck me, she lay over me, and her cool skin soothed the blazing pain.
I spoke to her with my trembling hands. I loved her with my heart, which fought against death for her sake. I had offered her war, kingdoms, and endless traveling; she had offered me whales, white cranes, and a volcano spewing the blood and ash of life.
Come with me, Alestria. Let us fly toward the light shining down from the glacier.
Come with me, my queen. Let us fly toward the sun.
Come with me, invincible soul. Let us fly toward the centuries that shall sing forever of our names, our exploits, and our glory.
Alexander and his monkey were always cold, so we wrapped them in thick layers of fur.
Alexander had difficulty speaking. He could not feel when he was being touched. But with simple gestures he told me how grateful he was to the arrow that had transformed his fate.
Alexander and Alestria held hands and spent their time looking at the glaciers. They woke to watch the sunrise and gazed in rapture at the sunset.
Alexander and Alestria loved each other intensely for thirty-six moons. Alexander left one morning in spring. Alestria came back to the steppes with me and dictated these words to me in the language of birds.
Alestria disappeared one morning, and her horse returned.
I, Ania, the faithful serving girl of the queen of the Amazons, wrote the end of this book. The following day I rose at dawn. I drank the potion prepared the day before and gave some to Nicea to drink. He climbed onto my shoulder, and I walked out of the tent.
I urged my horse into a gallop. Following my queen's instructions, I shall bury these pages of stone in a cave. I shall close the mouth of the cave.
I shall stop when we come to a river.
There is a white eagle in the sky.
Guiding me to the summit.
About the Author
SHAN SA is the author of several acclaimed novels, including Empress and The Girl Who Played Go (winner of France's Goncourt Prize). Born in Beijing, she moved to Paris in 1990. She is also a celebrated artist who has had prominent exhibitions in Paris and New York.
