“It is, and causes digestive trouble without practice. They eat a mouthful now and then for preparation.”
The females had grouped themselves apart from the males, which he approved of. There was some mingling, but it seemed courteous and appropriate. Two latrine pits were dug, one east and one west, to allow some modesty. Those would be filled as they left.
He allowed an eighthday for food and rest, with light naps in the sun. It was arid and clear in their part of the world, but not too warm. To the north, though, he could see clouds above the New Sea. The sun drew water that would fall to the west. With Gree on guard nearby, he allowed himself to take a short sleep. Cmeo Mrist had already curled up on her blanket to nap.
On his order, the warriors rose, drew in the circle and formed into ranks. The Dancers shuffled among them, and did so fairly quickly. They were learning.
He felt a little stiff himself, being no longer a youth. Still, this was something he could manage, and he led off with a shout.
The day would be pleasant at rest. It was hot for striding, and they all panted and sweated much of the way back, but almost all made it without issue. Before supper time, they were within the low stone walls of the city.
At the warrior compound, fresh towels aplenty waited with clear water for wiping fur and cooling down. Gree immediately acquired a large bundle from the caretakers, and brought them over. He handed a large one each to Cmeo Mrist and Rscil.
“It went well, I think,” Cmeo Mrist said, neatly cleaning dust from her coat. She was most careful to wipe around her eyes and in her ears. “Only three Dancers fell out, and all are older. So did two warriors, both saying they were injured.”
“Yes, some Dancers are older than any of the warriors. An old warrior becomes a smith or farmer. That is something I had not considered.” He scrubbed his face and drew his whiskers through the soft cloth.
“Acceptable?” she asked.
“It is,” the talonleader assured her. “Have the comments lessened?”
She smiled. “From what I’ve heard, they lessened throughout the march. It was my Dancers who had comments. They found the exercise boring.”
“We must do this, as boring as it may be, regularly before we begin the long walk to the war. Though Nrao Aveldt tells me it won’t be many days. He awaits more information.”
“So I was told also,” she agreed. “Do you prefer more practice?”
“I always prefer more time to drill,” he said. “However, there’s a point where it’s more important to get on with the task, rather than boring and tiring the warriors.”
“I understand.”
Once clean, they both walked up the cobbled road to Nrao Aveldt’s broad house. Hress Rscil pondered that he typically ate with the warriors except when the clan leader summoned him. As a warrior himself, he was not mated, and never bothered with a servant. His own house, made to be easily broken down and carried in a wagon, was small, with a sleeping bench, sitting bench and a hearth. Someday, perhaps, he might settle down with a mate and need a larger dwelling. He glanced speculatively at Cmeo Mrist. What would such a one be like as a mate?
Nrao Aveldt greeted them, and he nodded in courtesy, ears out.
Hress Rscil offered, “Our training goes well. A little more is desirable, but we stand ready to leave on your word.”
“Excellent, Talonmaster. And you, Priestess?”
Cmeo Mrist said, “the Dancers are fitting in better, I think, and there is less unrest with their presence. I will defer to the talonmaster’s advice, but I believe they are ready.”
“I concur,” Hress Rscil agreed.
“I am glad to hear it,” Nrao Aveldt said. “I have word from one of our observers. There are Mrem held captive by the scaly worm’s accursed mind magic. He saw them without harness. They differed in height and face, as well, so two clans. Oglut binds them to his bidding and forces them to the basest of chores.”
Hress Rscil said, “I think Aedonniss speaks to us. Territory, improved land, two Liskash tribes eliminated and the third made easy. Succoring our fellow Mrem from such desolation is the pointing star. How are the preparations?”
Nrao Aveldt said, “Eight eights of wagons threefold, each with five eightyweights of meat, darts and tools.”
The talonmaster did some mental calculation. “It will be enough. If you wish, let us plan to move an eightday hence.”
“I do wish. Aedonniss guide you, Talonmaster and Priestess.” He looked wistfully around at the dusky horizon, dark to the east and mottled pink in the west, his tail flat against his body.
“It will be a challenge to leave our home for new lands.”
Hril Aris checked the time. The moon was full and almost full high. It took some study, as it didn’t rise as high here toward the north. It should lower again to the far south, if the philosophers were right. They claimed the world was a ball 29,000 thousandlengths across. A huge distance. More than three times that around.
All he knew was that they’d wagoned, walked and now slunk and crawled 650 thousandlengths. They had spears, slings and large packs of dried meat, and would have to return unseen. They would be heroes; no scouts had traveled this far and fast. Spies took their time and sent missives of gathered stories. Scouts watched directly. It was thrilling to be so far, well within Liskash territory, but unseen. Their splotched coats of brown and tan were supplemented with crushed ochre and bark, so they blended with the ground. More importantly, though, were their abilities in stealth.
The river below flowed into the New Sea, helping fill it, ripple by ripple, as the massive waves tumbled in from the far east. Oh, to see that. Reportedly, it was a waterfall two hundredlengths high, four thousandlengths across, acting like a hose for a waterwheel, blasting across the former Hot Depths, flooding villages and driving herds before it.
But the river was their current task. It would have to be crossed on the way north, and they needed an easy ford. The hills were a poor choice, for the thin air, steep slopes and rocky terrain, not to mention being much closer to several Liskash strongholds. Lower here was less predictable, constantly shrinking, but probably the only practical choice.
“River” was charitable. It probably was one farther down, where it was inundated by the New Sea, now only a few thousandlengths away in a pointed bay. Here though, it was a broad stream over rocky shallows, filled with cobbles and pebbles and a few larger rocks from uphill. It would be easy to ford across. He had to decide if they should do so, and explore further, or just record this location and report back.
The rocks were a bit odd, and looked tumbled and displaced. He’d have to consider what had caused that. Large beasts pushing? An army? Earthquake? Recent heavy flooding? Perhaps that. The banks were scoured. The rocks seemed not to match, though.
It was a cool evening, slightly damp, and quite pleasant on the whole. His fur was slowly soaking up dew from the air, but it wasn’t so cold as to be a problem. The wind brought wet, pungent smells from the east.
His musing was interrupted when his fellow scout, Flirsh Arst, whispered, “Do you hear something?”
Hril Aris flared his ears and listened. There was something.
“Thunder?” he muttered back, but it went on and stayed steady, but got closer.
“Earthquake?” Except there was no shaking.
Then there was a little tremor. Only a little, faint and again, oddly even.
“Downstream,” Hril Aris said. He couldn’t believe what he thought he saw.
“It is the sign of Aedonniss,” Flirsh Arst hissed reverently.
The river was flowing backward, in a solid wall of water. It was the new sea pushing up to claim more land.
Hril Aris stared, still outside but shaking within, as a wave six Mrem high rushed below in an almost sheer wall, the air seeming to hold it straight. He saw rocks tumble before it, weeds and branches thrash.