What annoyed Oglut most was it was his own fault they lacked in such skills. Still, there’d been no way to trust them with that power until there was expansion room. Between the cool continent to the north swarming with mammalian vermin, and the two strong, warring factions to the south, there’d been nowhere to go. Now there was, but it was a mess.
He called for his beasts and handlers, and pushed the army and loose auxiliaries into movement. This would be an excessive slaughter.
Hress Rscil pushed the army on into the night. They grumbled and snarled under their breaths, but he could tell they were at least as excited about meeting with Nrao Aveldt’s force. That would make them stronger.
The original plan was for Hress Rscil to drive around the hills, north of Oglut’s city, drawing that army along. He’d have the advantage of speed and a good map they couldn’t know he had, and that would free Nrao Aveldt’s force, with the civilians, to move north unmolested. With river, sea and hills, they’d have all the terrain advantages.
Now, they had to guard Nrao Aveldt’s rear, and challenge the approaching Liskash. He hoped it would work. It had to. They still had terrain, and from scout reports, the Liskash were heading to meet them.
It was profound how this sea had changed the world. The filling of a ditch, albeit a large one, was destroying entire kingdoms not anywhere near the Hot Depths.
Shouts from ahead roused him from his musing. They’d run into the tail of Nrao’s army. Warriors sent up cheers and yelled greetings to their mates. Drillmasters had to shout them back into order, but they had smiles on their faces as well.
It took most of an eighthnight to actually find the clan leader. There were that many warriors, and Dancers, and wrights and drovers. Add in the dark and few lamps, and it was a chore. Eventually, though, he heard Nrao Aveldt’s gravelly voice nearby.
He called, “Clan Leader, I greet you.”
The golden-coated male turned suddenly, and a smile spread across his face.
“Talonmaster! Well done!”
Hress Rscil bowed his head as the failures of the last several eightdays rushed into his mind. “Not so well. We are forced to an alternate plan.”
Nrao Aveldt put a hand on his shoulder. “Still within our plans. I have your reports, but would share grer and hear first hand.”
“Certainly.”
It felt good to sit on a bench in Nrao Aveldt’s tented wagon. It was big enough for four to talk or one to sleep. The grer drove the damp and chill from Rscil with its fermented warmth. Nrao Aveldt waited patiently until he was ready to speak.
Comfortable, and with big slabs of fruit-laden dried fat at hand, Hress Rscil told his tale. Their body heat warmed the small tent, though the humidity clung to their fur.
Nrao Aveldt sipped his own drink. He was polite and attentive, and seemed eager for the upcoming fight. When Rscil finished his story, he spoke.
“I am pleased by this. You have found a tactic that will work well in this position, even better than we planned. The Dancers have proven their worth. We can beat the lizards’ mind magic and their army. I am sympathetic to the former slaves, but I agree they should be offered the chance to die bravely, or win through. It is the only way for them to be free.”
“Thank you.” Rscil replied.
“It is only days until this comes through.” Nrao Aveldt warned.
“Then a new home?” Hress Rscil hardly dared consider it, it was so far out of his plans. Nrao Aveldt understood. He smiled.
“Yes, then a new home, but I will need you behind until we are out of danger. Then you will build a fortress. Do you still prefer Outpost Master Shlom?”
“I do. He commands well without supervision, and I will leave seasoned drillmasters with him.” Hress Rscil assured Nrao Aveldt.
The clan leader’s throat hummed with approval. “Excellent. Our welcome in the north will be better if we leave a strong position here, I believe. Then let us rest and prepare for the fight.”
Nrao Aveldt stretched, shifted and curled again on his bench. He tilted his cup and drank thoughtfully.
“You do realize, Hress Rscil, that we could have left in small caravans and likely been unseen, most of us, spreading out across the north. We would sacrifice our steading, perhaps half the clan, and our past, but our bloodlines would continue. My son suggested it, in fact.”
Hress Rscil was uncomfortable with the idea.
“A bloodline is more than just blood,” he said.
“Yes, that is why it is only a desperate last plan. We must remain a people.” Nrao Aveldt emphasized his words by slapping the wood. He raised the crockery bottle for a refill as shouts came from outside. He placed it on the table and scooped up a javelin. Rscil followed suit, and both were outside in moments, with Nrao Aveldt’s guards and servants falling in around them.
There was a Liskash present, but only one, looking somewhat bruised and worse for wear. Two scouts held him by his scaly arms. He was greenish yellow, and well concealed in darkness.
Nrao Aveldt spoke at once to his talonmaster. “Do you have anyone who speaks their oily tongue?”
Rscil said drily, “I rather hoped one of your spies did.”
“They are busy elsewhere,” Nrao Aveldt said, without elaborating.
Rscil thought. “Then no, but wait.” Possibly…He turned to a scout. “Send for Trec, among my camp.”
Nrao Aveldt said, “Ah, one of the escapees you spoke of. Good.”
The Liskash didn’t fight, and his expression was creepily blank. No ears, no smile, little way to tell what they thought, if they thought. Though at least some of them built castles. He did seem to twitch whenever the grips on him were lightened, pondering escape.
“Hold him well,” Rscil said.
The warriors nodded and all but sat on the cold-skinned thing. He struggled a few beats, then seemed to accept his position.
Trec arrived in short order. Despite the long route and field rations, he looked fitter and fuller than he had when he’d dragged his worn self into their camp. That said much.
“Greetings, Trec. Are you skilled in the tongue of these creatures?”
“Talonmaster, and you are the lord?” he asked, turning that toward Nrao Aveldt.
“I am. I greet you, Trec. I will meet with you later.”
“Understood, lord,” he nodded and turned back. “Talonmaster, no one I known speaks language this. Do not the commoners project thoughts. They only hear, and not much.”
“That is unfortunate. I am reluctant to kill him in case he is expected. He may also prove useful to send a message back, as well, if we knew what to say.”
Trec said, “I can translate you thought hearably, I think.”
Clan Leader Nrao Aveldt didn’t want to think overly on that. The poor Mrem had had those disgusting creatures in his mind. That by itself helped color his response.
“Tell him this: ‘Go tell the slimy lizard we await him.’ ” He gestured, and the guards hauled the lizard upright.
Trec strained, gripping his head and shivering until he drooled. He sank slowly to his knees. Suddenly, though, the Liskash stiffened and recoiled, whipping around and reacting in horror, even while on the ground.
Trec stood and said, “I did my best.”
“For us?” It was harsh, but a valid question.
Trec nodded and took it like a Mrem. “I did, Talonmaster. My mind is breakable to rulers of they, but not here, and not of things like that.” He pointed at the now panicky Liskash.
The sentries looked to Talonmaster Rscil for assent and, receiving it, prodded the creature with the butt of a javelin. The Liskash trotted unsurely away, before increasing to a run into the damp, foggy darkness.
Rscil smiled and said, “Aedonniss and Assirra willing, we shall meet this Oglut in a day or so. For the first and last time.”