by Ben Hale
Braon took advantage of the flight to consider what he knew about the amazons and barbarians. Although bitter enemies, they were remarkably similar. Both lived in the deep southeast in the ungoverned region below Talinor. The Amazon nation resided in a tropical jungle along a large river. Renowned as some of the best female fighters in any of the kingdoms, they were governed by a queen that ruled over several large villages hidden in the jungle. Proficient in staff weapons, their weapon of choice embodied a rod of wood encased in metal with a short, curving blade on either end. The weapon could be magically linked at the center to create a single staff, or separated to form two shorter, single bladed versions. Known as a dreadstaff, it had a formidable reputation. Some were rumored to be enhanced with magical modifications to make them even more powerful.
For their part, the barbarians lived in the highlands between the jungles and the southern kingdom. Born and raised in rocky foothills and low mountains, they prided themselves on their battle prowess. Although they were humans, most of the men were taller, larger, and stronger than the average human and excelled in a variety of weapons. Each warrior belonged to a tribe or clan that was named after an animal and boasted hundreds of families. Once per year the clan leaders gathered to determine a Grunden, or chief of chiefs. It was not uncommon for a clan chieftain to die during the challenge.
Both races were fiercely proud, warlike, and stubborn, and protected their territory against any foolish enough to enter without permission. In reality, the only difference was their belief about gender. In the amazons’ religion, women were believed to be stronger, and females were the warriors, leaders, and hunters. Men in Amazon villages were treated as anything from servants to slaves. Barbarians considered this belief heresy, and that men were superior. The difference in beliefs had caused numerous efforts to “convert” the other, resulting in countless bloody battles and wars.
The giant phoenix dropped out of the sky, pulling Braon’s thoughts back to the present. Below him, the vast greenery of Numenessee rippled in the breeze, and the endless deep blue of the great lake twinkled in the distance. Descending, Reiquen glided towards the point where the Lake Road divided the lake and the forest. Even from half a mile away Braon could see the commotion of battle stirring.
Braon frowned and directed the phoenix towards the disturbance. Approaching fast, he began to make out several bodies struggling against each other. Frowning, Braon peered into the throng, trying to identify the assailants. Several leather-clad women were fighting three large bare-chested men. Naked blades flashed in the sunlight as each party sought an advantage. The three barbarians, outnumbered more than two to one, appeared to be holding their own against the ring of furious women. Watching the small battle, a group of humans and dwarves stood in front of an almost completed wall that extended out from the front of the cliff to the water, and he spotted Jair and Seath in their midst.
“Jair reports that he tried to stop the fight, but both parties turned on him. He didn’t want to lose anyone—or offend them,” Thacker said in his ear.
Braon nodded and furrowed his brow as he tried to sort out the more subtle clues that revealed the temperament of each party, and how to respond appropriately. The next moment they landed thirty feet from the combatants, and Braon slipped from the neck of the giant red bird. Striding towards the swirling battle he came to a halt twenty feet away.
“Enough!” he called.
At first he only caught a few scornful glances, but then they noticed the firebird behind him. One by one they stopped fighting to stare at him. For several seconds the newcomers gaped at him, glancing back and forth between him and the phoenix in confusion.
“I am Braon, High Commander of the gathering. You wished to speak with me?” Braon said, hoping his voice sounded full of confidence.
Several of the warriors in front of him laughed, and one of the barbarians sneered. “You're just a fat boy, not fit to command women.”
“Or men!” one of the amazons retorted, raising her sword.
Braon ignored their replies, focusing instead on the largest of the men. Huge by any standards, he carried the largest double-edged axe that Braon had ever seen. Long black braided like rope to his shoulders, and his blue-gray eyes evaluated the young man in turn. Obviously the leader, he had responded differently than the others, and during the battle he had not taken several opportunities to strike down the women. Even though his gaze measured Braon, the look held no animosity. Braon could only hope that was a good omen.
He inclined his head towards the large man. “Are you the Grunden?”
The man cocked his head to the side, betraying his surprise, and raised a hand to stall his companion’s comment.
“I am Golic, Grunden of the southern tribes,” he said as he began advancing towards him. His long strides carried him to a stop within a few feet of Braon—easy striking distance for the huge axe in his hand. “Do you speak the truth?” he said, his tone dangerous.
Braon resisted the urge to take a step back, or swallow the sudden dryness in his throat. Knowing he would be struck down in an instant if he demonstrated weakness, he tilted his head upward and fought to keep the fear from his face. “I do. I am appointed by the Oracle herself.”
Braon didn’t flinch when the axe lifted towards him. “What would happen if I challenged you for leadership?” the Grunden said, raising his voice for everyone to hear.
Braon did his best to ignore the derisive calls from the other barbarians—and the amazons. A challenge from a barbarian would not be like the challenge from the Azüre king. It would be single combat, brutal and deadly, until one backed down, losing all respect, or died. The young man’s face hardened and his eyes flashed. “I’d lose,” he said. "But your victory would ensure your defeat, and the death of your people."
The silence stretched between them while Braon watched the Grunden consider his options. The chief could either accept his leadership, which he might consider the same as losing, or issue a challenge, which would cost Braon his life. Braon had already played his strongest card, and could only hope that the reference to the oracle would be strong enough.
The barbarian finally relaxed and placed his oversized weapon on his back. “Then I accept your command,” he said.
Before Braon could question the acceptance, or breathe a silent sigh of relief, one of the other barbarians strode forward, raising his sword high. “If you won’t challenge him, then I will!”
In response to his words, a huge wall of flames erupted from the ground, streaking towards the astonished man. In the blink of an eye, they reached him and wrapped around his body, encircling him in a ring of magical fire that began to shrink. The man shouted in fear and swept his sword at his encroaching death, but the weapon glowed red from the heat, forcing him to drop it in a cry of pain and fear.
Braon looked backward and saw the wall of flame extending from Reiquen’s wing. A moment later he heard a voice echo in his mind, white hot with fury. Fool human! Only a chief may challenge a chief. A second will fight the second!”
Everyone in view winced as if they had been physically struck, and the barbarian began shouting panicked apologies. The ring of flames came to a halt inches from consuming his flesh, and then melted backwards before evaporating, leaving a smoking ring of charred earth. Stunned silence enveloped the onlookers and the new arrivals. Then the phoenix screamed a piercing war cry that caused every heart to stop, including Braon’s, and made the offending barbarian jump.
Thank you, Braon mentally whispered, overwhelmed by Reiquen’s help, but unsure of how to express it.
You are my commander as well, Braon. Forgive me for assuming that I would be your second, the deep voice replied, and he could hear the hint of a humor stealing into the tone.
Resolving to consider the implications of Reiquen’s loyalty later, Braon broke the stillness. “Welcome to the gathering, barbarians and amazons. Would you please come with me so we may speak?”
He turned without waitin
g for a response and walked towards Reiquen. Pausing long enough to tell Thacker to have Jair clear the crowd, he continued to the cliff and turned westward. Stopping once he was out of earshot from the workers on the road, he waited for the newcomers to arrive.
He didn’t have to wait long. The three barbarians appeared behind him, with the would-be challenger still jumpy, and the amazons followed them. As soon as the ten of them stood before him, Braon spoke. “The Oracle has told us we have less than two weeks until the fiends arrive, so forgive me if I am brief.”
Raising his hand to forestall one of the amazons that opened her mouth, he said, “Please allow me to go first, then you may ask any questions you wish of me.” She gave a curt nod, so he continued, “Which of you ladies is in charge?”
One of the women stepped forward, tilting her head upward, “I am Krisrae, personal representative of the queen.”
“Greetings Krisrae,” Braon said with a nod. “Forgive me for asking, but why do you fight differently than the others?”
Her eyes flashed. “What do you mean?”
He gave her a small smile. “You are better than your companions, but their skill appeared far smoother. It’s almost as if you were born with no innate ability for battle, but you trained hard enough to overcome it.”
One of the other amazons coughed to hide a laugh, and Krisrae frowned in irritation, “You are an observant one, and bold. Few have noticed the difference.”
Before she could continue, another Amazon grinned and exclaimed, “Kris used to stumble all over herself . . . until she began training twice as hard as anyone else.”
Krisrae growled at her friend but the other woman's grin spread even wider. Out of the corner of Braon’s eye he saw Golic flash a quick smile and nod in approval. Filing the expression away for further thought, he addressed the women, “Which is normal, innate skill, or requiring practice?”
In unison, several of the women responded, “Innate skill.” Then one added, “Kris is an oddity in several ways.”
Braon smiled in satisfaction. He’d gotten the information he needed, while at the same time giving the warriors a chance to increase their confidence in him. “Excellent, now to a more important question. I know we sent you a messenger, but we didn’t think many of you would be able to make it before they blocked your path. How many did you bring?”
The Grunden exchanged a confused glance with Krisrae. “All of us made it. We brought all nine clans, and number over twenty thousand warriors with their families. They should be crossing the Blue River now.”
All of the women were nodding as well, and Kris added, “We also brought everyone.” She flashed a smug look at the barbarians. “Over forty thousand soldiers, as well as our men. They should be a few miles behind the barbarians. We rode ahead.”
Braon shook his head, confusion written on his face as he struggled to figure out how the math added up. It should have taken almost two weeks for the messenger to get there, then at least a few days to find and convince both leaders. They must have immediately gathered and sent everyone for them to arrive here now—but if the fiends are only two weeks away, then they would have easily blocked them in their path . . .
The Grunden said uncertainly, “When we passed the forest of Orláknia , it was on fire—”
“All of it?” Braon interrupted.
“I believe so,” the big man replied and the women nodded in agreement. “But we only saw the southern tip. We also hit some scattered patches of big black dogs that attacked us, but we took care of them easily.”
Braon shook his head and a grin blossomed on his features. “Orláknia burning would have created a fire line large enough to stop the entire fiend army. It must have held them for at least a few days.”
“What about the dogs?” one of the barbarians asked, speaking for the first time.
Braon frowned. “They must have been passing through the forest when it burned. A few must have made it through before the blaze cut them off.”
The Amazon leader shook her head. “What’s so important about Orláknia burning? It’s a big black forest and should have been destroyed a long time ago, but what does it have to do with us. So a forest fire took it out.” She shrugged. “Irrelevant.”
Braon smothered a laugh and looked at her, “You brought forty thousand, correct?”
She nodded, pride infusing her features until Braon said, “If the forest hadn’t burned, delaying the enemy, you would have faced millions.”
“Their army is that large?” the barbarian that had challenged him asked, his expression regaining some of its earlier scorn.
Braon shook his head, his eyes sparking with intensity. “It is a thousand times larger than that. Both of you would have been slaughtered by just the foreguard.”
Most of the faces before him were dubious, but both the Grunden and Kris seemed pensive. Then Braon realized why. “Both of you saw the orbs,” he stated, his eyes narrowing.
Kris and even the giant barbarian paled in response to his statement. Smiling in sympathy, Braon said, “I am sincerely glad you came—for your own sakes as well as ours. The Oracle informed us that our enemies would far outnumber us, and would sweep across the four corners of our world, destroying every shred of life. Gathered as we are, we can last a week at best.”
The expressions of the amazons and the barbarians ranged from incredulous to surprised, except for Kris and Golic. Determination hardened their features and they were both nodding, accepting the assessment of their situation. They had seen it.
“Now,” Braon continued, preparing himself for the disagreement he knew would be coming. “I have a specific command of our defenses that I need you both to assume.”
“Wait,” one of the women said. “Together?”
Braon nodded, and frowned as a babble of protest rose up before him. Folding his arms, he waited for them to quiet down, and then said, “Yes.”
“Why?!” Kris choked out the question.
Braon allowed a smile. “Because this is the most dangerous position, the most vulnerable point, and I need someone strong to defend it.”
The obvious compliment, although true, was not the actual reason Braon wanted to place them together. He’d seen the way Golic didn’t want to kill the women, and also seen the great skill and strength of the women. If they were placed next to each other, each would fight their hardest—not just to survive—but to best the other. Their sheer pride would cause the barbarians and amazons to fight harder than ever, and on the Lake Road he needed men and women that would refuse to back down. He couldn't imagine a better environment for the road, if they didn’t kill each other.
First to respond, Golic asked, “Where is our post?”
Braon gestured back to the road they had been on. “You will defend the road. It is quite literally a highway to flank us. If the road is lost, we are lost. Bring both of your peoples to the section of the plateau at the top of the road. I will have a man named Jair meet you there. He will explain to Golic,” he inclined his head towards the Grunden, “the details of being my general in that command.”
Kris and several of the women opened their mouths, but Braon flashed them a look of such coldness that their jaws snapped shut with an audible click. “I will allow no fighting between your peoples. You fight, we die. We do not have time to settle grudges, or determine which belief is right. We do not even have time to prepare, but we will do what we must.” He alternated his gaze between Golic and Krisrae. “Any person caught fighting will be severely punished—and possibly banished. We do not have the luxury to deal with infighting. Keep your people in check, so we have a chance to survive.”
He stared them down until each of them blinked and accepted the instructions with a nod, before finally softening his expression. “Report to your posts, and pray to whatever God you believe in.
"The battle will be joined soon."
Chapter 25: The Cost of Greed
A spontaneous sigh of relief escaped Braon’s lips as he watc
hed the barbarians and amazons depart. Deep down he could admit that he had doubted he would survive the encounter. Taking a deep breath, he walked back to Reiquen, once again in control of his emotions.
The moment he came into view of the great bird, Thacker pounced on him. “I thought you told me never to leave your side!” he hissed.
Braon raised a hand, fighting the sudden sense of fatigue. “I know my friend, but there are exceptions to every rule.”
The man pursed his lips in anger and opened his mouth to protest, but Braon cut him off with a soft look. “I appreciate your concern, but it was important for me to meet with them in a manner that expressed confidence, which meant alone.”
Although he still held a doubtful expression, Thacker fell into step behind him, choosing instead to change the subject. “While you were gone the queen sent word through Deiran. She needs to speak with you.”
Braon pulled up short and turned to him with a quizzical expression, which Thacker answered with a shrug. “I don’t know what it is about. That was the entire message. I got the impression that Deiran felt it was a problem they didn't want to voice.” Thacker’s eyebrows dipped as he pondered the cryptic message.
Braon frowned. The odd note undoubtedly meant trouble. Blowing out his breath he wheeled and mounted the great firebird. “Come on Thacker,” he said. “Let’s go find out what the newest problem is.” In his gut, he doubted that it was good news.
With concern written across his features, Thacker climbed into place behind him. In minutes they were gliding above the lush green forest of the elves. An idea crossed the young man’s mind and he thought, Reiquen, would you mind taking us above the cliff so I can see the fortifications?
The huge phoenix banked upward, eliciting a squeak from Thacker as he grabbed onto Braon for support, but the young commander grinned, grateful for the sentient bird’s willingness to connect to his mind. Soaring above the expanse of trees, Reiquen flew towards the top of the Giant’s Shelf.