And before I had even managed to cross (I knew I could ask Ymmen to hop me over on his broad back – but knew instinctively that would send completely the wrong message on my first day as the new captain of an army) I had lost my footing three times, with one of them involving me clinging onto the topmost rope between two struggling Daza, bracing their spears as they tried not to slip, too.
But our plan was working as first one, then two, then more of our number managed to safely cross. There were bashed knees and rope-blistered hands, but there were no accidents. Until, that was, about halfway through the process…
“Hyurgh!” There was a grunt of shock, and a sudden louder splash in the water amidst the already tumultuous river noises. I shot to my feet where I had been crouching to see that two of the Red Hounds had tried to cross the same rope-and-spear walkway at the same time and were both now flailing with legs and arms, desperately clinging onto the ropes.
“Help!” I shouted, alerting the others as I immediately started wading into the river, reaching to hold onto one of the guide ropes—
The two Red Hounds had been carrying heavy canvas sacks of provisions – only two bags, but as our supplies were so meager to start with anyway, seeing them torn from their shoulders and flung downstream was still going to be a problem.
But not as much as losing lives, I thought, wading as fast as I could through the waters surging at my thighs.
“Here! Hold!” the nearest spear-holding Daza shouted to me, who was already straining to hold the spear tight against the two floundering bodies. I grabbed onto the Daza warrior, leaning with my weight into his chest as I reached to grab the spear as well. We managed to stop it from toppling over, and the rope walkway tightened, allowing the Houndsmen to regain their feet.
“Take my hand!” I reached for the nearest mercenary when I was sure that the Daza had the spear firmly footed. The man’s gloved hand, soaked, slapped onto mine and I was able to pull him towards one of Ymmen’s sheltering islands of rocks.
“Dammit!” the Red Houndsman said, shaking his tawny-blond hair when his fellow was similarly safe. “The supplies!”
“Never mind about that now,” I told him immediately, working slowly to get the two across safely.
Why on earth you both thought you could cross at the same time I don’t know! The frustrated thought slipped through my mind, but I held my tongue until both men had collapsed onto the opposing bank, spluttering and shivering as they – like most of us – were completely drenched.
We went slower in getting the last remaining members of our troupe across, and it was already well into late afternoon by the time that everyone was safely across. I knew I should consider it an achievement, but looking back over the tired and exhausted people all around me, wet to the bone and looking miserable, it was hard to feel that my first day as war-captain had gone particularly to plan.
“Here.” There was a splash and a thump on the side of the river as Ymmen trudged out of the river, dropping the two sacks of supplies to the ground.
“Thank you, at least—” I was about to say that we still had our food – until Tamin and I released the straps and pulled at the bag to find that all the corn and cereals the Daza had brought with them were completely soaked. I knew well that it would ruin in the hot sun, and we couldn’t eat that much food all at once. The much smaller amounts of fruit that we had picked along the way – the purple Kudu fruit, or the softer berries of the shrubs – were all smashed and pulped together. Also ruined.
“Wonderful,” called out an angry voice. It was the tawny-haired Red Hound whom I had helped across the river, now wrapped in a cloak but still dripping. He glowered and his face was ominous as he looked past us at the ruined stores.
“Well, we’ll gather more,” I offered quickly. “And we’re not so very far from the Middle Kingdom—”
“Huh,” the tawny-haired man grunted noncommittally, turning back to grumble with his friends. I could see why he might feel worried – as we still had to cross the Masaka Mountains safely without all of our supplies now, too.
“They’re not happy,” Abioye said to me in a low and serious tone that evening. We had managed to progress across the scrublands without any further incident, but we had lost half a day thanks to the Greenbow, and the mood of the troupe was somber.
“I’m not surprised,” I said a little morosely back. Everyone had eaten half-rations of boiled grains and what little fruits and seeds we had. Thankfully, there was also a supply of meats and fish that the Plains provided us directly to complement that.
Our few tents were scattered around a stand of rocks, with stands of tough-bladed grass clumping here and there. There were a number of campfires still burning, and everywhere I looked I could see where shirts, trews, blankets, and cloaks had been lain out on the rocks in order to dry. Being wet and cold will be worse than being hungry, I considered from a Daza perspective.
“We need a good day, tomorrow,” I said a little hesitantly.
Abioye groaned, scratching his hands through his choppy and dark hair. “Aye, we do…” He was preoccupied tonight, and I could well see that. The young man kept raising his eyes to look towards the distant mountain range, which were blackened silhouettes of night, crested with the distant flashes of lightning.
“Are you thinking about Inyene?” I asked.
Abioye blinked, before taking a deep breath and nodding. It took him a pause before he spoke back to me. “Aye, I am,” he said slowly. “I’ve been thinking about how she changed, in some ways, and what she has become now.”
I knew that Inyene, the older sister to Abioye, had fiercely protected him during their dissolute years in workhouses and orphanages, before she climbed her way through a string of wealthy husbands to a position of power. For a moment I wondered what that woman might have been like if she hadn’t been so intent on the notion that they were descended from High Queen Delia, the first monarch of the three Kingdoms, and the woman who had created the tradition of the Dragon Riders of Torvald. Maybe she would even have been a good sister, I thought, before feeling my heart clench in my chest, with a blossom of agitation and anger.
But she has also enslaved and killed so many of my people, I couldn’t help but thinking.
“She was never particularly kind, but she was always committed,” Abioye said, as if voicing my own dilemma. The conversation left me feeling a little awkward and tired, not wanting to admit that a person might be able to start off good but become twisted and evil through poor choices.
And – I had to admit to myself, as I said my goodnights and took myself off to my tent, that I was wondering what the Stone Crown was doing to me, and what sorts of choices I had almost made just this morning…
Chapter 7
The March
The next day felt like a hard slog with having less food in our bellies. I sent Tiana and the other Daza scouts who had chosen to stay with us out for anything that they could hunt or forage – and after a while they returned with deer and spears stuffed full of fish. It was welcome, but it wouldn’t be enough to take us over the Masaka.
“We’re going to have to head to the Pass,” Tamin said seriously as the ground started to rise and lift, and the mountains looked like giants before us.