THE LAST BATTLE

Delilah looked at the women and children. "When you speak of this, you will call it The Last Battle. Tell them two Amazons fought here, against odds, against cavalry, in the open.

"And if it should be so, tell them Delilah, Captain of Amazons, and Cassandra, Amazon warrior, fell here!"

The women cried and the children.

"Go now!" Delilah said.

They didn't move, they stood like they were lost, not knowing what to do.

"Run! Run!" Delilah screamed. "Scatter! We will hold them."

Hold them? Cassandra thought. They would be overtaken, rounded up, taken back for rape and a life of serving others and having children that would be wealth for their owners.

She watched the living carpet of women and children move away from them. So pathetically slowly. She fought her tears.

Hold them?! If only it were true. They could not hold the cavalry. They would kill them or be killed by them. But no way they could hold them. But they were Amazons. Amazons did not count the odds.

They scattered, running for their lives and freedom, fear on their faces and bodies, knowing they had so far to go and that they could not outrun the slavecatchers. It all depended on the Amazons. Two. Against many. In the open. Against cavalry.

They scattered like debris into the land, running. To nowhere. However far they could get, it would not be far enough.

"Run! Run!" the mothers said to their children. And they ran. Clothes and rags flapping. Little feet scurrying. Mothers clutching desperately at little hands.

Her eyes picked them out. The mothers and daughters and sons. The young and the old. They were all beautiful. All worth fighting for.

She could not help smiling tearfully at them. She hoped they would live and be free and not be slaves.

She looked at the approaching cavalry.

"It couldn't be simpler," the Captain of Amazons told her, "us or them."
* * *

Cassandra didn't know which was worse-having the horses walk or charge. She wiped her hand and regripped Nyrobi more securely. She could not help admiring the sight. Impressive, she thought as death rushed at them. They came on steadily, the horses settling in to a ground eating pace, their experienced riders not letting any get out ahead or fall behind. As one, the force rode for them.

Don't let me let Delilah down, she prayed.

She wiped her hand on her kilt, watched them come.

Closer....

Closer....

There was nothing else they could do except wait....

Do not let me shame my ancestors ... or Amazons.

The horses seemed to fly over the ground, yet they approached with a majestic deliberateness.

Their hooves pounded the earth.

Her breathing increased, became more rapid, deeper.

As the horses grew bigger, they moved slower.

The roar of the Gods came upon her. Some sounds faded and others became louder.

The cavalry grew huge and became her whole world. There was no denying them. No stopping them. They were monstrous in their numbers and force. Irresistible.

Lances level. The pace picked up. The size of the horses grew with every stride. A wave of men and horses. A beautiful spectacle. Coming for two Amazons.

And the slaves they had set free.

The uniforms of the riders flapped in the breeze. Dust swirled behind, rising. The cavalry force flew into the wide land open before them.

The cloud of dust rose thicker and thicker behind them-like a curtain. A curtain of death.

Let me die bravely. Let me die like a Amazon. If I should fall, let Delilah be proud of me. I have tried so to be like her. I never will be. There is only one Delilah, Captain of Amazons.
* * *

"Long ago in this land there was a mighty empire," the old griot said, "ruled by a paranoid king who worried about dangers that might threaten his kingdom. In his wisdom, or madness, he followed the advice of his wise men and women and sent four teams of his elite warriors, Amazons-one woman and a young girl-to the four directions of the world to report on possible threats.

"Three teams came back.

"They had traveled far, had seen much and finally given up and returned, saying the world was so vast and they wanted to die in their own land, among their own people, whatever the consequences.

"All were greeted as heroes.

"But of the last team ... Cassandra, warrior apprentice, and Delilah, Captain of Amazons, there was nothing....

"They waited for them.

"They never came back.

"The king died soon after and it was assumed they were dead. The Amazons, with their families, held ceremonies for their fallen comrades, poured wine on the earth for their spirits, mourned for them and went on with their lives.

"Years passed .... In time they forgot about the fourth team.

"But we griots never forget-and so, generations later, when these tales began to come to us from far lands, brought by travelers, of two magnificent African women warriors, we recognized them: Cassandra and Delilah, seeking the end of the world, trying to fulfill the mission.

"We lovingly gathered in every story of the two.

"This one is called The Last Battle."

As he recited it, they appeared before me: Cassandra, young and beautiful, and Delilah, aging, tough, determined. She always looked you in the eye. Amazons believed it was the best place to find treachery-or what an opponent was going to do.

"In the land of the slavetraders, in an area of varied terrain on the outskirts of black Africa, having thwarted many efforts to capture and enslave them, Cassandra and Delilah came across a holding area in which women like them and their children were penned up like animals.

"They destroyed the overseeing force and liberated the three hundred women and children and headed back to their Africa."

The griot sighed and shook his head sadly. "It was an impossible undertaking...."