“Sir, look!” Zoya shouted.
Githinji walked around a pair of soldiers lifting one of the comatose Corlains onto a stretcher. Actions like this were taking place everywhere.
“What do you have, Zoya?” he asked.
Zoya pointed her sword at a dead Namerian woman. She looked ancient and wore a turklyo-skin dress. She had a pouch around her neck. Zoya retrieved it after checking the woman’s pulse.
“She’s dead,” Zoya said as she tossed the pouch to Githinji.
He snatched it out of the air. Githinji opened the pouch and saw several small pieces of igsidian. They looked like they may have once been a solid piece. Githinji sealed the pouch again and tied it to his belt. The parts of the broken spear he kept in his left hand.
“Sir! We have a survivor!” a Corlain sergeant screamed.
Githinji and Zoya immediately left the dead Namerian and raced to the non-commissioned officer.
“Where?” Githinji asked.
“Follow me, sir, ma’am,” the sergeant responded.
The sergeant led Githinji and Zoya to a woman in her mid-fifties. She didn’t wear any armor, but her clothing marked her as a priestess for the Vikisotes. She lay amid dozens of small bodies. Some children were only toddlers.
The woman’s legs were shattered. She breathed raspy breaths as she stared daggers at the squad of Corlains aiming rifles at her. She clearly wasn’t a mage, but some of Githinji’s soldiers still kept their distance.
“And you would be?” Githinji asked.
The woman spat blood in Githinji’s direction. He laid his helmet on the ground next to the woman and squatted. His eyes were at the same level as hers as she rested against a collapsed longhouse wall.
“The battle is over. There’s no reason we can’t have a discussion from mutual respect for a worthy enemy,” Githinji said.
The woman laughed. Githinji smiled and waited. She grimaced and lazily laid her hands on her belly.
“Laughter is the best medicine. You look like you could use some more,” Githinji said.
Some of his soldiers politely laughed at the poor joke, thankfully not Zoya, but the Vikisote woman snarled.
“Die, bastard,” she said. “The chosen one escaped. I know she did.”
Githinji covered his mouth as he snorted out his own laughter. The chosen one? How backward were these people? This time, Zoya laughed with the other soldiers. What started as a chuckle grew in volume as the absurdity of the woman’s statement mixed with her total belief in it hit the collective Corlains.
“Sure, laugh away—” The woman stopped to hack and spit more blood. “The gods decreed our chosen one will avenge all who died here today.”
More laughter erupted from the Corlains. Even Githinji allowed another snicker to escape his lips.
“Exactly which chosen one is it this time?” Githinji asked.
A few Corlains continued to laugh; others let out a mirthful sigh. The Vikisote woman seemed enraged by their blasphemy, but her conviction apparently forced her to answer.
“Queen Murid! She’s survived your massacres twice now. She will defeat the foreign invaders. She has powerful friends and the love of the gods!” the woman shouted.
“The love of the gods? Are you serious? Look around you. Your gods don’t exist. If they did, this never would have happened.”
Githinji stood and gestured wide with his arms. The woman didn’t respond. She looked away when he challenged her with eye contact. Githinji stepped hard on her shattered legs and pressed his weight into her wound. The woman screamed throughout the duration of his attack.
“You will not ignore me,” Githinji said.
The woman screamed. She thrashed her hands, but Githinji kept the pressure on her. Eventually, she forced herself to look Githinji in the eyes. When he saw he had her undivided attention, he removed his foot.
“That’s better,” Githinji said. “Would you mind telling me where your precious Queen Murid ran off to after my division defeated them in every way?”
“Best guess, she’s telling the rest of Glostaimia the reason you have to overcompensate in battle,” the woman said.
Githinji clenched his jaw to keep from smiling. She had fire. He respected that. “Why couldn’t you have been a shield maiden?”
Before the woman could spit anymore insults at him, he plunged both halves of Two Dogs’ spear into her. The igsidian tips burrowed down her shoulders and into her hips. The hag gasped and quickly died.
“Make sure you get the igsidian back and place it in my carriage,” Githinji instructed a few nearby Corlains.
“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.
Githinji wiped the blood from his gauntlets onto the woman’s skirt.
“Sir, Captain Kali has cleared the city,” Zoya said.
Standing beside her was the aforementioned officer.
“Good, Captain Kali, good. Did you find any survivors?” Githinji asked.
“Yes, sir, but they were all wounded. They were left behind because of their injuries,” Kali answered.
“I understand. How about Namerians? Did you find any more bodies?” Githinji asked.
“No, sir. The only Namerian was the one crone. Any others must have escaped.”
Githinji nodded. He’d expected as much. He nearly had the Namerians, but the hag must have sacrificed herself to allow the others to leave. It didn’t matter. The Vikisotes were decimated. A few dozen may have escaped, but they wouldn’t even be a match for a single company.
Trumpets blared in the distance. They played a Corlain tune. Githinji and Zoya turned to face the sound. Cresting the mountain and spilling into the valley from the south were the banners of the Diamond Fence Division. Tosaca’s division. Githinji squeezed his hands into fists. The bastard would gloat immediately.
“It’s the Diamond Fence Division, sir,” Zoya said.
“I see that,” Githinji said, a bit too crossly. “Zoya, I want Queen Murid.”
“Sir, I think it would be best if you spoke with General Tosaca first,” Zoya said.
“I fully intend to speak with him, but the snake will make me see Ekundayo. I’ll be forced to play politician for some time. I don’t want the Vikisotes to have that time to regroup and rebuild. You will hunt them down and destroy them.”
“We’ll have to leave immediately,” Zoya said.
“I understand. I’ll give you as much time as possible. I won’t let Tosaca steal this victory and ingratiate himself to our leader. Our spies did well in getting us here. You can use their other reports to decipher the most logical place the Vikisotes fled to.”
“Yes, sir. They breached us to the north. I think that gives me all the information I need.”
“Take your best battalion and go now. Don’t stop for anyone. Find the Vikisotes. Hunt them down and kill or capture them. I prefer kill.”
Zoya placed her helmet on her head. She saluted Githinji with her sword. He stood erect and returned the sword salute. Zoya left with a few of the Corlains standing nearby. She would be clear of the city inside fifteen minutes. It would take that long for the pompous Tosaca to parade himself through the remains of the ring fortress to Githinji. He hated to play this game, but he absolutely despised losing.
Githinji walked to the intersection of the two roads moving through the decimated ring fortress. The banners of the Diamond Fence Division fluttered in the cool mountain breeze. They were white with gold trim and gold diamonds acting as fence posts. Banners were always ostentatious; Tosaca’s were especially obnoxious.
Tosaca was atop a pure white mare. Appearances meant a lot to him. He seemed to spot Githinji and trotted his horse over. Githinji made it a point to stand in the exact middle of the intersection. His rival would likely try to force him back with his horse. Githinji prepared himself for the blow. Surprisingly, Tosaca didn’t take the cheap shot. He halted his horse a meter in front of Githinji and stared down at him from the mount.
“General Githinji, I see you’ve b
een busy,” Tosaca said.
Githinji held his arms wide. “War isn’t pretty, but the Black Cloud Division gets it done. Perhaps some of your soldiers would like a lesson?”
It was an obvious threat, but the words needed to be spoken. If the Black Cloud had a reputation of being violent warriors, then the Diamond Fence had a reputation of being timid. They were the rich sons and daughters of important people who merely wanted to pretend they were soldiers. Few had likely ever engaged in a battle.
“Don’t do that,” Tosaca said. “I didn’t come here to spar with you.”
“Then why did you come?” Githinji genuinely asked.
“I came here to arrest you,” Tosaca matter-of-factly stated.
Githinji scoffed. Tosaca kept a measured face. It wasn’t a bluff. What had he said to Ekundayo to get him to agree to such a ridiculous course of action?
“On whose authority?” Githinji asked.
“You know whose. Ekundayo sent for you weeks ago. You can’t ignore our leader and be surprised he’d take offense.”
“I’m sure I have you to thank for his decision?”
This time, Tosaca smiled. “I may have shared a word or two.”
“Anything you’ve done, I will undo. Ekundayo will appreciate this victory I’ve brought him.”
Tosaca laughed. “You know our leader that well, do you? I may have gotten him to agree you needed to be brought back in chains, but your actions got him considering the option long before I spoke to him. You look at the devastation around you and see victory; I see disobedience. You’ve sacrificed your honor, but worse yet, you’ve sacrificed Corla’s! This wasn’t your mission!”
That wasn’t true. Githinji’s mission had always been to enforce the will of Corla. The Vikisotes and many Namerian tribes resisted that will. It was his duty to wipe them from Glostaimia.
Tosaca reached behind him and produced a pair of shackles. He held one end and let the other fall dramatically. It swayed in the breeze.
“Will you be obedient now, or must I do this the unpleasant way?” Tosaca asked.
Githinji could take this man. His division, though battle weary, could easily defeat Tosaca’s troops. The thought was enticing, almost intoxicating, but that would ruin his legacy and the plans he’d been working toward over the past thirty years. Once he spoke with Ekundayo, he would earn his leader’s forgiveness. In fact, he’d likely have a chance to facilitate a promotion. It was in his best interest to allow Tosaca this limited victory.
Githinji held out his wrists and mocked Tosaca. “I live only to serve Corla!”
A few of his soldiers cheered, but most remained silent and simply watched as a Diamond Fence soldier took the shackles from Tosaca. The soldier walked forward, removed Githinji’s gauntlets, and forcibly attached the shackles to Githinji’s hands behind his back. Githinji forced himself not to grimace as the soldier gave them an extra squeeze to ensure they were as uncomfortable as possible.
“Tosaca,” Githinji said.
“Yes?”
“You may want to order your soldiers to sweep the area for crick venom and other precursors. With the pampered lives they’ve lived, most won’t know the difference between crick oil and honey ferm. I could have my soldiers assist them, if you don’t have a month to let your people take the lead.”
A few Black Cloud soldiers chuckled. It was loud enough that Githinji knew Tosaca heard. His red face proved as much. It took the general a moment to visibly regain his composure.
“That won’t be necessary. Your soldiers will be allowed to rest and recuperate without your constantly cracking whip. Shall we?”
Githinji didn’t respond. His silence was now his best weapon. Any more comments would just make him look like he was posturing. A pair of Corlains from the Diamond Fence Division grabbed an arm each and led Githinji toward a caged prison wagon. As Githinji passed his soldiers, they held two fingers against the Black Cloud coat of arms on their left shoulder. Occasionally, the Black Cloud soldier would hold one, three, or four fingers. The number indicated which brigade he or she belonged to. Githinji beamed as he returned each salute with a nod. Tosaca hadn’t won anything.
chapter 19
Two Dogs and Swift Shot lay prone alongside the crest of a mountain. Evening was soon to transition into dark night. It had been hours since the pair had escaped the Vikisote ring fortress. Two Dogs panted every time the pair stopped. He’d never realized how much he’d relied on his magic. He continued to search for the connection, but his igsidian stayed a dull black. The separation tormented his soul. He had no choice; if he hadn’t used his magic beyond his limits, he and Swift Shot would be dead. He’d mistakenly believed Mother Turklyo would understand. She’d want him to protect the only other living Lacreechee. How wrong he’d been. For more reasons than one, he yearned for his power. It was embarrassing having to fully rely on Swift Shot to protect them.
Two Dogs reached for his eagle feathers before slowly withdrawing his hand. They weren’t there anymore. Neither he nor Swift Shot escaped the ring fortress with their prized representation of their heritage. It wasn’t a surprise Mother Turklyo was displeased with him. He wasn’t representing his tribe properly. Thankfully, Swift Shot hadn’t been deprived of her magic as he had.
Two Dogs observed her as she scanned the trails leading to them. The Corlain pursuit they’d expected had never come. A battalion mobilized soon after them but distinctly turned west and raced to some unknown destination.
“Still no sign of any Corlain pursuit,” Swift Shot stated.
Two Dogs was thankful she was being considerate. He half expected her to tease him about losing his magic. He was certain those insults would pile on the moment his igsidian even showed a flicker of power. What he wasn’t certain about was if he could produce that flicker.
“Shall we keep heading north?” Swift Shot asked.
Two Dogs rolled onto his back and stared at the stars. “What’s the point? The Vikisotes are finished. Meeting up with them will just lead to our own deaths. We’ll end up like Ancestors’ Hand. I don’t want to die until Corla does. I can’t die until Mother Turklyo welcomes me back.”
Swift Shot rolled onto her side and stared at Two Dogs. Her eyes were soft, but her words were fierce. “That’s quitter talk.”
Two Dogs turned away and shrugged. “We lost. One division ripped through us like we were children. Corla has at least a dozen divisions. We can’t beat them.”
“So we just run and hide?” Swift Shot asked incredulously. “Corla is greedy. They take everything. They won’t stop expanding. People like us have to make it not worth their time.”
Two Dogs scoffed. “Even if they stop, it won’t be for long. Corla may halt to lick their wounds, but they’ll recruit. They’ll rebuild. A five-year break will create an even more powerful Corla. They have the people, technology, and resources to win. We were foolish to try and stop them.”
Swift Shot slapped Two Dogs. He stared at her in disbelief as he rubbed the pain away.
“I don’t know what it feels like to lose Mother Turklyo’s gifts, but I’m done listening to your self-pity. You’re more than your magic. Ancestors’ Hand would be disgusted with you if she heard this.”
“Ancestors’ Hand is dead! She died because Corla is too strong! She died because the Vikisotes . . . because Murid chose to party instead of retreat. For those same reasons, I’m without my power. I’ve lost Mother Turklyo’s favor!”
“Keep it down,” Swift Shot loudly whispered.
“She’s dead,” Two Dogs repeated but quieter. “I think she’d want us to live longer than the time it takes to run across the next Corlain unit.”
Swift Shot quickly stood. She stomped away from Two Dogs, heading north on the mountain road. Two Dogs stood and trotted after her.
“No,” Two Dogs said.
Swift Shot ignored him. She continued to walk north. Two Dogs ran in front of her and placed his hands on her shoulders. He dug in his heels to keep her from
moving.
“I said no,” Two Dogs said. “We’re not rejoining the Vikisotes.”
“You aren’t my chief,” Swift Shot said.
She snaked her hands between his and chopped them outward. The move pushed his hands off her at the wrists. Two Dogs didn’t replace them. He stepped aside, allowing Swift Shot to walk again. He kept pace on her right.
“I’m not trying to be chief. I’m trying to keep the tribe alive,” Two Dogs said.
“The tribe is dead. We can’t change that. We can stop the Corlains from doing it again.”
“How exactly? What’s your amazing plan that takes a lame Lacreechee warrior and an elementalist and somehow transforms them into the deciding factor? The Vikisotes are finished. Maybe Murid has a hundred warriors left. We saw what little good they were when they had four thousand.”
“I don’t care,” Swift Shot said. “I’m a warrior. I won’t run from a war I’ve already committed myself to.”
“Fine, but we shouldn’t fight it with the Vikisotes. Murid proved how incompetent she is. We can find other tribes. Mother Turklyo’s children are our true allies.”
Two Dogs felt a twinge of shame. Maybe it wasn’t completely fair to blame Murid for his situation, but who else could he? They hadn’t been ready to face a Corlain division, but the queen had put more stock in silly traditions than practicality. He and Ancestors’ Hand had paid the price of her hubris.
Swift Shot stopped walking. She slowly turned her head to face Two Dogs.
“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” she said. “You care more about getting your magic back than what Corla did to us. Every single one of those bastards must die. The Vikisotes are still our best chance to make that happen. They’ve suffered like we have. Nothing can stop a rage like that.”
She was right. Two Dogs still wanted to kill every Corlain in existence, but that was impossible without his magic. Sometimes lame warriors found their connection again. He would seek these people and mimic their journeys.
“Would you feel any differently?” Two Dogs asked. “About regaining your connection with Mother Turklyo, I mean.”
Augury Answered Page 22