“Glad to hear it,” the trickster replied. “But let’s talk about this elsewhere, don’t you think? We have brought allies with us as well, and they’re going to need your help before they can participate.”
“Masks?” the other Mazikeen asked.
Blue Jay smiled. “Something like that.”
“Lead on,” said the Mazikeen.
Ovid Tsing did not give his recruits false hope. Some of them had never struck another in anger, much less fought with swords or daggers. What he promised them was camaraderie, faith, and loyalty. Twillig’s Gorge had been founded by those who did not want outsiders interfering with their lives. Those who settled there believed in liberty, both for themselves and for others. He did not have to make fiery speeches to rouse their ire. Whether it was the current rulers of Yucatazca or the High Council of Atlantis, as some rumors said, did not matter to them. Whether or not Oliver Bascombe had assassinated King Mahacuhta was quite beside the point.
All that mattered was that an army had invaded Euphrasia. King Hunyadi had never tried to exert his will over the residents of Twillig’s Gorge. Not a man or woman believed that the southerners would offer the same freedom.
They would never have gotten involved with the workings of the Two Kingdoms-the people of Twillig’s Gorge did not even communicate much with nearby communities, except for necessary trade-but Ovid had convinced them that the threat was simply too great. So many of the legends and Borderkind in the Gorge had already gone to fight under Hunyadi’s command. They could do no less.
Ovid stood at the rim of the gorge. Behind and below him, life went on as it always had. His mother would be down there making pastries and baking bread, serving coffee at the cafe. He had been frustrated with her of late, but he still hated the idea of parting from her.
Yet if he stayed, it would only be a matter of time before the routine in Twillig’s Gorge would be shattered forever. Someone had to fight.
The wind whispered across the plateau. Sentries stood guard at the top of the stairs down into the gorge nearby. They were Lost Ones, however. The Nagas, who had always acted as sentries for the Gorge, had already gone off to war. Ovid wondered who would guard the rim when he and his militia marched away.
His recruits were arrayed across the plateau twenty yards away. Ovid had chosen three lieutenants-two men and a woman who had soldiered in the past-to oversee their training. Vernon led a platoon in hand-to-hand combat trials. The recruits had learned how to pull their punches and kicks easily enough, but the real test would be when they had to execute such moves in battle. LeBeau taught them swordplay. Or, rather, he tried. Some of them simply had no skill with the blade. The woman, Trina, taught small weapons combat, gauging the recruits’ skill with daggers, axes, and cudgels.
Ovid himself had plucked seven of the recruits for his own special unit of archers. Some had learned from the Nagas when they were younger and others, like Ovid, had a natural skill.
He watched them all now, going through their paces. Perhaps he ought to have lied to them. Some would die on the first day of fighting. Many would never return to Twillig’s Gorge. He had never been in war himself, but he had met enough warriors to know the truth of it. Some would survive because of their skill, and others through sheer luck. Many would die the same way.
His archers were working with Trina at the moment. When enemies came too close, it was vital that they be able to defend themselves with whatever they had at hand.
Ovid had his bow slung across his back with his quiver. He started away from the gorge toward the recruits. Trina would be through with the archers soon, and then he would continue their training. The sun felt warm on his shaven pate and he ran a hand over the top of his head.
When a voice called his name, Ovid turned and saw two large figures standing on the ridge. From their jagged silhouettes, it was clear they were not human.
“Archers at the ready!” Trina snapped.
Ovid spun and glared at her. “No,” he commanded. “They are Jokao. Our neighbors. Their village is only half a day’s walk from here.”
“Stonecoats?” Trina asked. “I’ve heard of them. But I’ve never seen one before. They’ve never come to the Gorge.”
That much was true. Ovid started across the plateau toward the far ridge. As he passed between the other two platoons, LeBeau touched his arm. Ovid turned to look at him, barely aware of anything but the sight of those rough creatures on the slope.
“They are legends, not Borderkind,” LeBeau said. “How do you know they are not in league with the southerners? They might have come to destroy us.”
“Two of them?” Ovid said. “I don’t think so. But if they kill me, destroy them before they can get down into the Gorge.”
LeBeau’s reply was a grim nod.
Ovid did not spare another glance at the rest of his recruits as he strode up the slope toward that ridge. As he drew near to the Jokao, he realized that their outer husks were the same texture and color as the stones that thrust up from the ground. They were called Stonecoats because their bodies were entirely covered in a rocky armor. Their eyes were like pure quartz crystal. Whether there was flesh beneath their Stonecoats was the subject of great conjecture. Ovid himself had only ever seen Jokao once before, and then from a distance, while he’d been on a trade excursion for his mother.
“What do you want?” he asked. Perhaps he ought to have been more courteous, but that was not his way.
One of the Stonecoats-whose chest was scored with three deep furrows that had been painted a deep red ochre-raised his chin imperiously.
“Stories travel far,” the Jokao said, with a clacking of rock jaws. “We have heard that you prepare an army to fight Atlantis.”
Ovid frowned. How could these creatures have heard of his militia, and how had they gotten the truth so skewed?
“Not an army,” he replied. “Only a small force of soldiers. Soon, we’ll march south to join the king’s forces. But we aren’t going to fight Atlantis. We only wish to stop the invaders.”
The Jokao cocked his head. Stone scraped upon stone. “To stop the invaders, you must fight Atlantis. The Truce-Breakers.”
“I’d thought that only a rumor.”
The stone warrior shook his head. He reached out and touched one of the rocky projections that jutted like teeth from the ground.
“No. The stones know. Stories travel fast. The Jokao pass them through the ground. The invaders have Atlanteans commanding their armies. Once we were slaves, and Atlantis our master. When you march south, we will be with you. We will not be slaves again.”
Before Ovid could begin to reply or even to make arrangements, the Stonecoats turned and started across the plateau. He considered calling after them, explaining that it would be days before his militia was ready to march. They were storekeepers and fishermen and carpenters, and they were not ready yet.
But then he realized that the Jokao knew precisely what Ovid had been doing, there in the Gorge. Somehow the stones had told them. And when the militia marched south, the Stonecoats would know.
Unnerved and confused, he turned and went down the slope to where his recruits and lieutenants all waited. The questions began immediately. They wanted to know what the Jokao had said.
“We have allies,” he told them. “Continue your training. If we want to make a difference in this war, we must leave soon.”
And with that, he departed, descending the stairs and ladders into Twillig’s Gorge. So many of the homes were empty, now. Some of the shops had been closed up. He missed the smell of fresh fruit that had always risen from the market, and the delicious aroma of spices and roasting poultry from Taki’s restaurant.
He crossed the Sorrowful River on a footbridge twenty feet above the water and then scrambled down a ladder to the promenade on the east bank. This time of day, the cafe normally would be alive with patrons sitting on the patio and sipping coffee, sharing gossip from throughout the Gorge. Now only a single, older couple-Giovanni Russo and his wife, Lucia-sat at a table, eating pie and drinking black coffee. Ovid nodded to them as he stepped inside the cafe.