by S. M. Stirling, Harry Turtledove, Jody Lynn Nye, John Ringo; Michael Z. Williamson
The two scouts were politely subordinate, but their smell and the proud set of their ears said they knew they were trusted to report honestly. Hril Aris and Flirsh Arst brought out their notes, and stood to consult with Seer Ingo. The old male unrolled his larger map, cut from the whole hide of a draft-bred arosh stretched out, and the three gathered to mark it. Nrao sat back enough to let them work, while watching.
Shortly, Ingo glanced up at him. “The flooding of the warm lands is causing more rains, and dampening the hills. They are green with growth. It has drowned many Liskash and those Mrem who were passing through.”
No Mrem chose to stay in what had been stale and hot lowlands. But through that desert had been the shortest route to the rich, open lands in the south. Nrao’s father had led the clan through, though not without losses to the heat-loving Liskash that thrived there.
The scout’s tail flipped with concern, flapping against two startled spies behind him. He seemed to not notice. “The water has come quickly enough that that great lords there are broken, but thousands of Liskash fled ahead of it. They can only reinforce those who were already trying to destroy us.”
Nrao Aveldt let the tip of his tail lash as well. “Obviously we must stop that before it commences.”
Hril, as senior scout, said, “The rise is measured in handspans a day, but it has spread over a huge area, and periodically inundates a depression with great force. Everywhere as it rises and the rains come the land is thick with muck because nothing has time to grow where once there was desert. The water slows, but still claims more land every day. Some days the waters are calm, then it suddenly rises quickly and pushes deeper inland, only to pull away again. But each time it remains over more land.”
The scout’s concern was obvious as he finished. “We searched every direction and route. Deep water blocks every path back to the lands of our ancestors. It would have taken days to run at the narrowest point. But there is no crossing the swirling sea that covers those routes now. To sleep near the water’s edge is dangerous. One scout who ventured too far out into what we thought were shallows was pulled away by powerful, hidden currents. No more clans will come to reinforce us: no one can cross. Those of us south of this new sea are alone.”
Nrao Aveldt had never seen a sea. He would have to correct that. He did understand there were plants that grew submerged, vicious reptiles in the depths, and even primitive animal-like things, fast but edible, near the shore. That was something else to explore. If they lived long enough to explore anything, the clan leader reminded himself, stroking a whisker.
Hress Rscil traced roads and paths on the broad parchment with the tip of a claw. Two disappeared into the new coastline. Three others were very close. All those routes north were broken. That particular bay would have a lot of shore traffic, if they could secure the area. If there were some way to cross it on water…but it was far too broad and stormy.
“Seer Ingo, what about crossing the water at some later time? Can boats be made larger?”
The sage tilted his head in assent. “With heavier timber, yes. We have none now. That might come from the hills as thicker forests grow.”
“I am not worried about it now, but after this campaign, I think it a worthy pursuit for our artificers to ponder.”
“Noted.”
Nef Esnrao, leaning over their shoulders, suddenly pricked up his ears eagerly.
“Father, what of caravans? Should we have more warriors along that route, against conflicts or bandits?”
Nrao was proud of that. “A good question, Nef Esnrao. Most insightful for your age. Hress Rscil?”
The talonmaster nodded and raised his ears. “The caravans can support each other in proximity, and I don’t foresee them fighting, although water could be an issue. But it’s not a bad idea to reinforce the garrison on Steep Slope. They can conduct escorts and patrols. Outpost Master Shlom is one I well trust.”
“Please. I will arrange supplies for you.”
Hress Rscil said, “But this is all temporary. All of us must move, and I concur on doing so soon. The later we wait, the more desperate we will be.” His ears showed his agitation.
“Soon, Hress Rscil. We must be prepared.”
By midday, Nrao Aveldt had updated his strategy and plans with the new information. He offered all parties a lunch of fresh roasted mottlecoat liver with salt and ground sharproot, and gave orders for following spy missions.
It was time to discuss stopping the Liskash mind threat.
* * *
The clan leader wondered how the Dancer could look graceful even just sitting. Cmeo Mrist was beautiful and moved with a deadly grace that entranced all males. Nrao Aveldt also reminded himself she was also the second most powerful Mrem in his lands. He wondered what she saw sitting there with even her slitted eyes still as she waited for him to speak.
“Cmeo Mrist, the spies bring me disturbing news. Oglut is the name of the Liskash godling in the east. From reports, he is powerful in his mind magic. He bound even Mrem warriors in the fight.”
She stared at him, subtle changes in posture and a twist of her tail showing she was attentive and clearly listening. He realized Dancers rarely engaged in the skirmishes that his warriors had faced as they moved south.
“Once a warrior is actively fighting with an opponent, he should be intent on the task and not susceptible to distraction. So it has been for generations. Oglut overcame that. My scouts saw him enter a battle against those fleeing the waters and bind the warriors to his mind. The Liskash then turned them against their own clan brothers,”
“I see.”
“That means we must bind them back. Priestess, what can we do?”
Cmeo Mrist sat back and stared at the panel behind him, her black pupils spread so wide they swallowed up the golden irises. He let her do so, realizing the meditation for what it was. He often stared while thinking himself. Hers, though, was much more intense, even to watch. She fingered the symbol around her neck and her eyes slackened, then focused sharply on nothing.
Nrao Aveldt sat still also, not wishing to disturb her. These things worked in their own time.
She blinked and said, “We must strengthen the Dance.”
“Very well. How so?”
“If we have more Dancers, and closer to the warriors, they can exert more power. Distance is very important. The power weakens quickly.”
“Closer, you say. That’s awkward, in a battle formation.” The clan leader twitched his ears.
She said, “Ideally we would need to be in the formation.”
That was a striking and uncomfortable suggestion. It made his fur bristle, and he wanted to forbid it at once.
However, he had to consider it fairly.
Mixed with warriors. It hadn’t been done. That could mean there was a good reason not to, or that it hadn’t been thought of.
He took a sip of his drink and said, “I will summon the talonmaster. Return in an eighthday.”
“Yes, Nrao Aveldt.” She bowed respectfully and left.
A messenger ran for the talonmaster, but it took time for him to clear the field and arrive. Nrao Aveldt used that time to consider. A central clearing in the formation for them? Several smaller ones?
Talonmaster Hress Rscil arrived shortly, his fur puffing in sections as the muscles underneath twitched. His face remained calm, but his body betrayed his tension.
“Welcome, Talonmaster,” Nrao Aveldt greeted him. “I want to explore the idea of putting the Dancers into the warrior formation.”
Hress Rscil fluffed and said, “Clan Leader Nrao Aveldt, have I given you cause to doubt my abilities?”
Nrao Aveldt hastened to reassure him. “Not in the slightest, Hress Rscil. I could find no finer warrior. This undertaking of mine seeks to provide you, and the greatest warriors of Mrem, with stronger shields against the Liskash. Do you have doubt in my abilities?” He asked it without rancor, but it was a test. Not of Hress Rscil’s loyalty, but of his willingness to argue agains
t Nrao Aveldt.
“None. My concern is that battle is traditionally a male pursuit due to strength. Females fight well, but are better in defense. Also, Dancers will not be fighting. They will be Dancing. If we lose large numbers of Dancers—females—the entire steading suffers.”
Nrao Aveldt dipped his head in assent. “I agree with that assessment and its logic. However, by combining your strength with their resistance, and with a goodly support of wagon drivers, we can take and hold a deep piercement into Liskash territory. Desperate times may be ahead. Any tactic we can add that will forward our aim is worth exploring.”
“Then I propose we test it as we go, and use known, working tactics if it proves unsuccessful.”
Nrao Aveldt had that exact thought, but decided it made a good bargaining point.
“A sound idea. We will discuss this, Cmeo Mrist and you and I and others, in a few days. For now, I wish for both groups to become more familiar.”
Hress Rscil’s ears perked out and he twisted his mouth. “I will try. It’s an untested concept, and requires adjustment to our formations.”
“We will discuss it now, then,” Nrao Aveldt decided. “Hress Rscil, I offer you some grer.”
“Thank you, Nrao Aveldt. I accept.”
Nrao Aveldt sat patiently. Hress Rscil calmed down as he first gulped, then sipped the cool, tangy fermentation. A scribe stood back, waiting for attention, and the clan leader gestured for him to approach. The Mrem did so, and hesitantly proffered a bark tablet of provision accountings for the pending expedition. It was more than Nrao Aveldt had planned, but a reasonable amount. He marked it, and dipped a claw in ink to make it official, then handed it back.
Shortly, Cmeo Mrist returned.
“Greetings, Nrao Aveldt and Talonmaster Hress Rscil.”
“Priestess,” Hress Rscil said.
Nrao Aveldt nodded. ”Welcome, Cmeo Mrist. Hress Rscil has urgent matters to discuss on our plan, so I moved the meeting. I hope this is workable.”
“I will make it so,” she said. She curled into the bench opposite him and drew her feet up onto the seat. Her tail wrapped up around them.
“Good. This is a private meeting,” he said, and looked over at the recording scribe, who nodded, stood and left the hall. He looked at his son, who stood poised as if to depart, but he looked as though he would like to stay. “Yes, Nef Esnrao, you may remain. Remember this is a most secret meeting, not for discussion even with Ingo or your other teachers.”
Nef was so solemn and earnest that Nrao almost smiled.
“I understand. It is a matter of the steading.”
“It is.” He turned back to Cmeo Mrist and Hress Rscil. “I wish you both to be free to raise objections and offer input. My concern is that the plan work, not that my ego be assuaged.”
His advantage, of course, was that he meant it. He was hard to sway from a course, but did accept reason, and appreciated argument even if it distressed him.
There was silence for a moment, then Hress Rscil said, “Clan Leader, Priestess, with respect, this is what I find: My warriors are unused to the presence of females. This causes them to either loiter as near as possible to the females, hoping to attract their attention, or to cavort and exhibit, for the same. I fear that in battle they will uncontrollably lash out to prove their heroism, or gather around the females to protect them. This means they will not be fighting the enemy in a coordinated fashion. They’ll fight more like scaly Liskash, not like Mrem.”
His ruff was raised in agitation.
Calmly, Nrao Aveldt said, “I understand the problem and believe it. We must find a way around it. Cmeo Mrist, please explain your plan.”
Cmeo Mrist said, “I will assume we can resolve this problem.” She looked irritated, too, however, grasping her tail to stop it from twitching. “As I explained to you, by having the Dancers closer to the warriors, I believe we can provide a stronger protection against spells. This means we need some warriors to protect the unarmed Dancers. I thought it easiest for both to put the Dancers in the middle, surrounded by warriors.”
Hress Rscil said, “The logic is sound, but you are not a warrior, nor are you used to dealing with warriors, and the special mindset they need. It is one of brotherhood, not of a male for his family, or a potential family.”
Nrao Aveldt intended to ask, but Cmeo Mrist beat him.
“Then what do you recommend as a solution?”
Hress Rscil’s ears popped, but he calmed down and replied, “How close must you be? Would behind a rank of wagons be close enough?”
“It might,” she replied. “But my thought was to be close enough for the warriors to hear and be inspired by the chant. There’s more power in it. It’s hard for me to explain, but during practice, I can feel the power of it, and the closer, the stronger, and being part of it is of course so much more.”
Hress Rscil said, “It’s logical. There’s also the logic that warriors don’t do well that close to females.”
Cmeo Mrist cocked her head and her pupils narrowed. “Yet the Dancers don’t have this problem. Are you suggesting your warriors lack this discipline?”
Hress Rscil’s fur brushed up all over and his claws twitched.
Nrao Aveldt said, “Careful! This is a conference, not a challenge.” He eyed them both. Aside, he saw Nef wide-eyed in worry at the clash of wills. The boy was still for once.
Cmeo Mrist’s pupils spread out to normal. She said, “While I meant that to be provocative, the question remains. Are not the warriors disciplined enough to keep their positions?”
“What?” the talonmaster snarled.
Hress Rscil needed a moment to calm down, and Nrao Aveldt allowed it. He sipped his drink and waited, without indication of unease. It occurred to him that his own ability to choke down his instincts might be a large part of what made him so effective. He never rose to a challenge unless it suited his purposes, and ignored jabs and pokes that others dueled over. His neighbors slapped at him hoping for a reaction, but also afraid they might get one, and so kept their distance.
Hress Rscil drank his grer and shook his head. “It is not so simple as it sounds, Priestess. Yes, my warriors will take my orders, well and willingly. What I am describing is their nature to protect females, and to seek mates. This will cause them to shuffle in close to keep the females from harm, and to be aggressive, within the limits of their orders, but not at the ideal level, to show their bravery. Females encourage what is best in the male, but an army is not about one warrior, it is about the whole.”
“Fair enough,” she said. She turned a hand over, the picture of feminine grace. The clan leader understood well what the talonmaster’s concerns were. “Then the question remains, what can we do to make it work better?”
“I don’t know,” he said, with a toss of his ears. “Any concentration of females is going to cause this, I fear. This is why they are used in the defense, while the males campaign in the offense.”
Cmeo Mrist offered, “What about several concentrations, then? It’s not ideal for our trancing, but it might be done.”
Hress Rscil pondered, as did Nrao Aveldt. He didn’t understand the workings of magic, the Dancers, and trance. As a former talonmaster, he understood how to place warriors. This would be complicated. The idea was a sound one, but was implementation possible?
Hress Rscil finally spoke. “It is possible. I advise against it, because it means manipulating each element by itself, or requiring the warriors to manage greater details, and fallback plans if one should take more casualties than another.”
Nrao Aveldt said, for Cmeo Mrist’s benefit, “Yes, it is best they have only their fist of fellows to move and be concerned with.”
Cmeo Mrist drooped her ears and slumped. “That is all I can offer. We will do our best wherever you will have us, but closer is stronger.”
The talonmaster seemed genuinely unhappy to have won the debate. Nrao Aveldt appreciated that. So when the idea hit him, he felt sorry for what it would do to t
he poor Mrem’s mind.
“What then,” he said, “if we evenly disperse the Dancers?”
Both stared at him. Hress Rscil’s tail twitched. Cmeo Mrist arched her mouth and flexed her ears. They were both too surprised to respond.
He continued. “The original idea didn’t go far enough. Everything Talonmaster Hress Rscil says is true. But, if we mix the Dancers throughout, there’s no clustering, and the warriors can show their best mettle without pressing the formation.”
Hress Rscil said, “It might be the whole formation will surge forward. It also means the females will be exposed to attack, especially by thrown weapons. There will also be arguing for position.”
“Not from my Dancers,” Cmeo Mrist said tightly. “In this context, you must think not of females, but of Dancers. They are as necessary to the fight as warriors, and not all females, nor even more than a few, can serve thusly.”
“Necessary, but not necessarily on the battlefield!” Hress Rscil roared.
Nrao Aveldt held up his hands for calm and said, “No plan is without flaw. Can this be done? Does it solve more problems than it creates?”
Hress Rscil growled a sigh, and untensed his ears.
“It means a great deal of work, and drill, and instruction for the warriors.”
Nrao regarded him sincerely. “I can think of no one more capable, and worthy of the songs afterward, than you, Hress Rscil. Call your drillmasters. Cmeo Mrist, prepare the Dancers.”
“I shall, Nrao Aveldt.” Cmeo Mrist faced Hress Rscil fully and said, “It appears we will be working together.” She extended one claw.
Hress Rscil smiled, propped his ears up, and hooked her claw with his own.
“Thus are legends created,” he said.
* * *
Oglut supervised his sons’ preparations in the fenced field outside the keep. They had a tendency to loiter before acting. That was so animal. It was best to keep them a bit hungry, and a bit aggressive. He set Buloth’s forces against Mutal’s in a war game. The young males set up their battle lines for Oglut’s approval. Buloth needed to be ready first. His target was farther away, so Oglut concentrated upon his preparations.