The Contest By Karma An Amazon Queen is challenged by a younger rival. [This story was written to answer a special request from a reader. I hope he enjoys it.] The Queen stood stolidly in the middle of the room, waiting. She knew she looked regal as she impassively watched the bustle of her aides as they readied the room for the visit. The assistants often glanced her way as they worked, but the Queen knew none of them could detect her inner turmoil of mind and heart. None but Grandmother. The Queen’s grim expression softened as she watched the old woman limp to her side, gnarled hands gripping the stout branches she used as supports. The old woman stopped and looked closely at the Queen. Her body may be old and failing, but her eyes were clear and bright, and her mind was yet sharp. "Ah, Grandmother," the Queen said softly, so no one but the crone could hear. "It has come to this." The old woman nodded and smiled sadly. "Yes, Sister, it has." The terms they used - Grandmother, Sister - were terms of respect and endearment rather than an indication of their relationship. Indeed, in this matriarchal civilization, few family relationships were even known. The extended family encompassed all, sheltered all, and included all. Until now. "She has arrived, Sister," Grandmother murmured. "Shall I have her brought in?" The Queen looked sharply at the old woman. "Have her escorted in, yes. She is no prisoner, nor supplicant." The old woman bowed her head in acknowledgement of the mild rebuke, then motioned to a hovering aide. She hurried away, as did all the others in the room, leaving only Grandmother and the Queen. A few seconds later two guards led a young woman into the room. The woman smiled slightly at Grandmother and nodded to her in respect. Her attention and gaze focused then on the Queen. She moved further into the room until she and the Queen were face to face, though several feet apart. For many long beats the young woman and the Queen stared at each other. Protocol demanded that the Queen be first to speak. Protocol further dictated that the longer it was before she spoke, the greater the insult. Grandmother watched silently, looking from one to the other. The Queen was older, perhaps 35 summers, while the young woman had not yet seen her twentieth. Both women were short, in the manner of their people, about 10 or 11 hands, but their short stature was inconsequential given the nature of their bodies. They were both powerful women, with broad shoulders and full-breasted figures. Their arms were thickly and densely muscled and gave indication of prodigious strength. Their legs, while short, were massively muscled, columns of power that could still move with surprising nimbleness. The black skin of the women glistened from the daily oiling, making their bodies shine like polished ebony. The staring duel continued. In other circumstances, this alone would have been a mortal insult on the part of the younger woman, for anyone who challenged the Queen with her gaze paid the consequences of her arrogance. But this, the Grandmother reflected sadly, were not usual circumstances. "What is your answer?" The question, asked suddenly by the Queen in a harsh and powerful voice, made Grandmother flinch, but the young woman was unaffected. Her gaze never wavered, and her answer, coming finally after many more heartbeats, was clear and strong. "What is your answer, Queen?" replied the young woman. "Do the men get a seat at the fire? Do the young women get a more important voice?" She paused, then continued, a new note of scorn in her voice. "Or must we continue to wait until we are past our prime to be consulted and considered?" "That is not an answer!" the Queen said, her body quivering with anger. "These requests - no, these demands of yours have been denied not once, not twice, but three times by the Fire Council! Yet you persist in your actions, which lead inevitably to war! You and your followers must denounce your petitions or you will be subjected to discipline by your sisters!" The young woman took two steps forward. Grandmother stirred, but remained silent. The Queen moved forward until there was but a single hand span between their thrusting breasts. The young woman gazed long and hard into the Queen’s eyes, as if seeking to bend her to her will. The Queen, long experienced in the ways of mental combat, met the angry gaze unyieldingly. The young woman’s shoulders slumped momentarily in disappointment, but then she straightened. "It means war, then. Sister against Sister. If this be your wish..." "It is not my wish!" the Queen replied fiercely, glaring at the younger woman. "Denounce the petition and we shall have peace!" The young woman shook her head sadly. "We cannot." "Then it is war! Prepare to support your misguided thoughts with action!" The women leaned closer until their chests brushed. Their wills battled through their locked gazes as they used all their determination and will power in a final effort to make the other concede. Even Grandmother, accustomed as she was to the ways of power, was astounded at the ferocity of this mental combat. The entire room seemed to hum with the energy released through the locked eyes of the two combatants. Finally, the young woman, though furious and obviously reluctant to break their contest, turned and stalked to the door. Her hand was on the curtain when an imperious voice rang out. "Wait!" The younger woman turned, the eager triumph that had leapt into her eyes fading as she looked again at the implacable Queen. "Many will die," the Queen said quietly. "It will not be easy - for either side. We have numbers while you have youth. And the men," she said dismissively. "They will not fight well, but it will be bothersome and time-consuming to kill them. You will not reconsider?" The Queen’s tone was almost pleading, or as close to pleading as she could get. The young woman heard this tone and was momentarily puzzled by it. She hesitated, then remembered what was at stake and her manner hardened. "No!" she exclaimed, and turned to go. The Queen took a deep breath. "I then propose a Challenge!" Grandmother jerked and gave an involuntary gasp. The young woman froze, her back still to the Queen, hand clenching the curtain. For several beats she remained motionless, then she slowly turned. Her face was grim, black skin listening now as sweat mixed with the oil. She looked at the Queen. "I accept!" Then she was gone. Grandmother hurried to the Queen’s side. "Sister, are you sure? Can we? Can you?" The Queen smiled to soothe Grandmother’s agitation. "Yes, I am sure," she said, more to herself than to Grandmother. "Perhaps it is near time that we changed. But this is not the correct time, nor is it the correct manner. Young women have not the patience or knowledge to know how to handle power. Men, no matter their age, can never learn. This course is too much, too fast, and the resulting war would destroy our family. It is better that the two of us settle this. Go, and make ready." Several hours later the Queen again stood in the center of the room. She was now dressed in only a brief thong and a brief cloth band around her breasts. Her muscular form stood in ebony beauty, waiting. The curtain parted and Grandmother entered, followed by the young woman, who was dressed in the same manner as the Queen. The woman’s expression was calm, confident and determined. Grandmother led her to her position before the Queen. "Have you informed your followers of your intentions?" Grandmother asked, her voice weak but full of the authority of the ceremony. "We have," both women answered in unison. Once again their eyes met and engaged in silent battle. "Will they pledge to abide by the results of the challenge?" "They will." "Then, by the authority granted me by the Family, the Fire Council and the Seven, begin the Challenge. She who emerges through the curtain at the completion of the Challenge will be Queen, with full acceptance and allegiance from all members of the family!" Grandmother lifted a bowl of oil, then was startled as the Queen took it from her. The Queen smiled gently at her. "Go, Grandmother, and may the Seven go with you. What will be, will be." Grandmother limped away and passed through the curtain without a backward glance. The Queen dipped her hand in the oil and began spreading it on the chest and shoulders of the young woman. The young woman hesitated for a fraction, then began to do the same for the Queen. Within moments, their black skin shone from the fresh application of oil. The Queen set the bowl to one side. She turned to the young woman and softly said, "Let us begin." They approached and carefully positioned breast to breast. They each passed their left arm under the other’s right and laid their hands flat on the other’s back. They then reached with their right arms around the other and gripped their left wrist. Without any further word or signal they began squeezing the other tight in a mutual bearhug. Their heads remained upright as they gazed deep into the other’s eyes. Strong arms gripped tighter and tighter as they strained with all their considerable power to force the air from the other’s lungs, and to make the other concede. This was a contest of pure and brute strength. Whoever squeezed harder and longer would win. These were not average women, however. Each possessed both a strength of muscle and of will that could not be easily overcome. Muscle bulged and rippled on their arms as they put the full force of their strength into their efforts. The Queen felt her opponent’s arms where they rubbed against hers and she marveled at their hardness. She knew hers were equally hard, and wondered if they were equally strong as well. Breast crushed against breast as the battle continued. Even their firm chests could not long resist the incredible power being exerted by their straining arms. The young woman’s head moved to one side until her chin rested on the Queen’s shoulder. The Queen matched her pose, and she could smell the dusky odor of the other’s sweat. The sweat beaded on both their brows and bodies, mingling with the oil, making both so slippery that their bodies slid and rubbed together. Their bodies were firmly planted on their strong legs, and eventually their legs came into contact as the fronts of their thighs met. They leaned more into each other as the squeezing began to take a toll on each of them. There was no effort to throw the other, or to force her back. By protocol, this was a contest of strength, which of them could longer withstand the bearhug of the other. It got more and more difficult for each of them to draw breath. Immense force was being applied to their upper bodies, and gasps and grunts of pain were soon emitted from each of the combatants. They began to sway as even their immensely strong legs began to weaken, and they leaned against each other even more, seeking support. Panting, desperately trying to get enough air into their lungs, the women remained locked in place. Neither would concede. Time stretched out for the women. It seemed they had been locked in each other’s arms for hours, and neither was able to gain any sort of advantage. Suddenly, the Queen felt weakness in one leg and stumbled, and she almost fell to one side. The young woman refused to release her grip and was pulled off-balance as well. The strong bodies crashed to the floor, but neither lost her hold. They now lay side by side, exhausted by the extreme efforts. They began rolling across the floor, first one on top, then the other. Finally, somehow, they struggled back to their knees. The Queen put her head back and almost howled as she exerted the last iota of power left in her body in a final attempt to squeeze the breath from her opponent. The young woman replied with her own desperate effort, and the room was full of the noise and smell of combat. The Queen suddenly heard a ‘crack’ and felt a sudden shaft of pain in her side. She knew a rib had broken, but she called on some reserve of power and will, and she kept squeezing. For another interminable time the women knelt, locked in each other’s arms. The Queen felt herself fading as the room began turning black around her, and she despaired. She struggled to fight off the encroaching darkness and squeezed with all her remaining might. Then - all went black. The Queen finally returned to consciousness, becoming aware of her surroundings. She was unable to move, and opened her eyes to see the cause. She was under a great weight, and she realized that the young woman lay full length on her. The queen managed to struggle out from under the weight of her opponent. The body of the younger woman collapsed in an inert heap on the floor, and the Queen approached warily. She grasped the woman by the shoulder and rolled her over. A gasp escaped her lips when she saw the eyes - wide open and staring sightlessly at the ceiling. For many long seconds the Queen knelt, staring at the lifeless body of her former foe. Gradually she became aware of the warm tears trickling down her cheeks, and she made no effort to wipe them away. She gazed at the still face, barely able to realize that in her last valiant effort she had literally squeezed the young woman to death. The Queen rose to her feet and staggered to the entrance. As she pulled the curtain back a loud roar arose from the crowd outside. "Long Live the Queen! Long Live the Queen!" The shouts reverberated but the Queen gave no acknowledgement. She motioned to Grandmother, who hesitantly followed her back in. Grandmother took a deep breath when she saw the motionless form on the floor. She put a hand on the Queen’s shoulder in commiseration, realizing the depth of the Queen’s feelings. "There was nothing else to do," she finally said gently. "It is not your fault. She did not know. Now she has paid the full price." The Queen nodded. She went over to the body one last time. She knelt next to it, and this time her bitter tears dripped on the young woman’s peaceful face. "You could not know," the Queen murmured. "You battled well. You would have been a great Queen. You pushed me to my utmost and further, but I never had the chance to tell you... I will often wish that I had your strength beside me in the years to come, and I will miss you... my daughter!"