Orphan Squad didn’t know what Grudda and Regalla had found or how they had interpreted the war party camp site massacre for nearly two months. They returned to Cinnabar Sands and attempted to work together, filling in for where Arakko had been. It was hard work and Kotallo often despaired that he was not as good of a leader as Arakko.

This was compounded by the arrival of another squad from the Desert Clan who had specifically sought them out.

“Jetakka said that Grudda had confirmed your story about Walking Fire…and then he announced it at Scalding Spear. We knew we had to come and find you.”

“Find…me?” Kotallo asked, bewildered.

The youth of the Desert Clan squad nodded their red, black and yellow heads, shaved to allow their ink to show. “We know you lost a squad member…but you saved a lot of lives. We want to help. What are your orders?”

Kotallo gulped and floundered. “We’re…going to set up rotating lookout duty that can bring word if the gates at Barren Light go up.”

“Wherever you need us, we will serve.”

“I’m just not ambitious.” Kotallo sighed to Jayko later that evening. “I never wanted people to follow me or look up to me.”

“You can hardly stop being you.” Jayko chuckled. “Kotallo, soldiers are drawn to strength. You killed an entire war party, destroyed their cannons and carried the body of your fallen commander back to Tenakth territory. You’re a legend!”

Kotallo wasn’t so sure about that. He didn’t try to gain attention but it seemed he already had it and as the weeks went by, more Tenakth joined them at Cinnabar Sands. Lowland Clan soldiers, whose squads had been decimated yet still wanted to fight, travelled and pledged themselves to Kotallo’s leadership. They all brought different skill sets and Alaika was brilliant at identifying what soldiers should do where. Kotallo was the figurehead that they all followed and Jayko was swift to identify any issues among the ranks, cutting down any clan tension.

And then, to add astonishing onto surprising, Sky Clan soldiers arrived.

Kotallo, Alaika and Jayko were discussing how to out manoeuvrer the Carja’s Walking Fire when Tila of the Desert Clan darted close.

“Pardon the intrusion sir!” She barked sharply. “We have incoming…and they appear to hail from the Sky Clan.”

“Truly?” Kotallo stood up and saw the soldiers coming towards them, escorted by Tila’s partner scout. The Sky Clan caught sight of Kotallo and immediately saluted with a sharpness that put his stunned expression to shame. “At ease.” He urged them, feeling uncomfortable.

“Who are you?” Jayko asked.

“I am Kivva, leader of Ram Squad,” the young woman announced, “my squad and I are here to serve you, Commander Kotallo.”

“Whoa,” Kotallo protested, “I am not…”

“We’re a little surprised,” Alaika saved his blunder, “apart from you, we’ve not laid eyes on Sky Clan soldiers since we left the Bulwark.”

“Honestly, joining the fight is not encouraged,” Kivva admitted, “and after the news of Walking Fire was announced, Commander Tekotteh said that sending soldiers to die on the front lines was foolish.”

“How did you get here then?” Jayko asked.

“Marshal Fashav asked for volunteers.”

“Fashav went to the Bulwark?” Jayko whispered behind Kotallo’s broad back to Alaika. “I bet that was awkward.”

“It was,” Kivva admitted, hearing Jayko easily, “but Commander Tekotteh could not deny our service when we volunteered in Marshal Fashav’s presence.”

“You are a young squad.” Kotallo said gently. “Your tags are freshly engraved and your soldier mark is still new…why did Fashav send you here, to the front lines?”

“He granted us a boon for being the first squad to volunteer.”

“Wait…first squad?” Alaika paused. “How many squads volunteered?”

“Seven.” The three remaining members of Orphan Squad gasped. “I don’t think you realise just how big of an impression you have made. The stories of your conquests, your triumphs over the Carja…the discovery of Walking Fire and the way you carried your former leader…” Kivva had to hold her tongue to stop gushing. “Sir…the Sky Clan’s colours are stronger than they have ever been at the Grove and at the front lines because of you. We asked that we be sent here to do what you will.”

Kotallo was dumbfounded. He couldn’t muster a reply.

Thank goodness for Jayko.

“First thing’s first. We’ve got a fairly competent cook serving food. Get fed, use a little water to clean any cuts and wounds from the journey and find a place near the fire. Nights can be desperately cold. In the morning, we’ll assign you duties.”

“Yes sir!” Kivva saluted and her three other squad members did the same.

Kotallo watched them go then turned to Alaika and Jayko.

“Why…”

“Smile and nod, Kotallo.” Jayko laughed and punched his shoulder. “At this point that’s all you can do. Smile and nod.”

Though Kotallo’s squad swelled in size up to almost twenty soldiers at one point, the core of it never changed. He always turned to Alaika and Jayko when making plans and assigning duties. Ram Squad were young, fresh faced and extremely willing. Kotallo found himself training them, using the same stories and words of wisdom he’d heard from Gerrah and Fareak.

They became a formidable squad and even found a way of disabling Walking Fire.

“It’s a sticky residue bomb.” A Lowland Clan soldier explained to Kotallo. “Put it in a sling, hurl it at the cannon and it’ll gum it up so that it can’t fire. It’s made from the sap of trees where I grew up.” Kotallo pressed his fingers into it and could feel its tension. “When it’s warm it’s incredibly sticky and when it cools, it’s as hard as a rock.”

“We need a way to carry coals to keep the residue sticky until use.”

“A metal tin…with two sections, one with hot coals and the other with residue?”

“Make it happen.”

The sticky bombs were extremely effective and the Carja fled when they found their Ravager cannons were just large, unwieldy clubs when their mechanisms were gummed up. With this fresh advantage, Kotallo and his soldiers continued to push the Carja back.

But the Carja were without honour.

For three weeks there was no sign of them and Kotallo, to keep from getting restless, took the younger soldiers on training exercises. He tried to vary his routes but there were only so many good places to climb and run…

…and the Carja paid attention.

As Kotallo took his half dozen soldiers on a run through a gorge with several large old world machines rusting along its length, he looked up and saw Jayko at the top of the ridge, waving.

The way was clear.

He put some length into his stride, heading for a sharp incline so that his soldiers could get a taste for fast climbing when a shout came for him to stop. Kotallo immediately had his weapon out and went to take a step when he heard the stretch of yew.

“Tenakth, to…”

“I said stop!” He looked at the woman giving the order. Her bow was taut, her eyes wide with urgency and her skin, marked as an Utaru.

“You would fire on us as we protect your borders?” Kotallo demanded.

“No. I’m trying to keep you alive.” She saw they were not moving and lowered her bow. “The Carja have laid this gorge with Stalker mines.”

Kotallo’s blood ran cold. “What?”

“Here, let me show you.” She squatted where she was and blew the dust away in front of her. Buried in the ground, barely concealed by sand and yet utterly unnoticeable was a round metal plate. She looked up at him. “I was picking healing herbs when I saw the Carja laying the mines in the darkness. When they were done, they left the gorge, picking up the markers that they had used to keep themselves from triggering a mine. Then they released a Grazer into the gorge…one blast broke its legs. When Scrappers came for it, they were also disabled.”

“And a disabled soldier risks others rescuing them…”

She stood up. “I couldn’t risk leaving and getting help. I’d forget where they were and someone might stumble onto the mine field. I was attempting to clear them when I heard you coming. I didn’t know who you were so I hid…”

“You’re saying, we’re surrounded by Carja cowardice?” Kotallo’s lips turned down in disgust. “They cannot defeat us face to face so they use dirty tricks to wound us?”

“What can we do?” Jayko asked, having clambered down the gorge and joined the Utaru.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“I can guide you out of the gorge but you must follow my instructions.” She insisted.

“We will heed your words…but first get my soldiers out.”

It took two hours of painstaking advances made an inch at a time before the Tenakth were free of the gorge. Kotallo breathed a loud sigh of relief.

“Just you now, Kotallo.” Jayko urged.

The Utaru had done her best to brush away the sand with a switch made from soft grass fronds. It was not enough to set one of the mines off and she had made a path to follow.

Kotallo took step after careful step, coming to the end of the gorge.

“Nearly there.” Jayko encouraged.

“Nearly…oh no…a Shellwalker convoy!”

Jayko swore. “It’s heading right for the gorge! Should I order the soldiers to attack it?”

“No, the machines will clear the gorge of the mines. I just have to get out of it first!” Kotallo risked several unmarked steps and was almost free when he felt something give beneath his feet and heard a click.

He froze like an icicle. Only his eyes moved to find Jayko’s.

“No…” Jayko pushed his hands through his hair. “Don’t move, Kotallo. We’ll distract the convoy, find a way to disarm the mine…just don’t lift your foot!” Kotallo’s eyes grew sad and he shook his head. Jayko’s eyes widened in even greater alarm. “Don’t you bloody dare!”

“Take care of them for me…”

Kotallo had barely finished speaking when Jayko’s body slammed into his and pain and heat erupted around him…

His eyes opened and he looked at the woven ceiling above him, groggy and unable to comprehend where he was or why it was strange he was anywhere that had a roof. His memories were as fuzzy as his vision and he went to sit up, streaks of pain running through his body.

He let out an unguarded screech, clamping his teeth onto his bottom lip.

“Don’t move, Tenakth…you’re held together with fine stitches and a lot of hope.”

He sank back onto the mat and blinked, looking at an old woman who seemed vaguely familiar.

“You…” He whispered.

“Yes, Tenakth, you know me.” She nodded, the white marks of the Utaru on her skin wrinkling with her age. “I was here when you carried your friend and fellow soldier back from the Carja camp that you decimated.”

His stomach rolled with nausea. He tried to speak but his throat was dry.

“Here,” she put a wet cloth to his lips and he sucked on it, “best not to sit up for a while.”

“There…was…another…” Kotallo rasped.

“The friend who saved your life? He’s fine. I treated any minor cuts he had and sent him out of Stone’s Echo. We don’t take kindly to outsiders here. He told me to tell you that he’ll take your squad back to your camp.” She soaked the cloth again and put it to his lips. “There is an herb in the water that will help with the pain.”

Kotallo sucked some more from the cloth then breathed heavily for a moment, trying to catch his breath.

“What happened…”

“You stepped on a Stalker mine laid by those insidious Carja,” the woman spat to the side, her aged face creased with disgust, “they were going to maim anyone who walked through that gorge and let them lie there, broken and dying slowly in the sun…” She shook her head then turned back to Kotallo. “Surviving a Stalker mine…that’s a claim that only a few others could boast…but I am afraid it exacted a terrible penance.”

Kotallo blinked. “What did it do to me?” He glanced down, half expecting to see that he had no legs but they were beneath the blanket that covered him. He shuddered in relief. The loss of a limb would have ended his life as a Tenakth. Maimed soldiers were worth little to a squad and even less in a battle.

The old woman gazed at him sorrowfully. “The Stalker mine releases a single blast which is suppose to break legs or even remove them…but it also throws shrapnel up. You survived the blast but the shrapnel embedded itself,” she moved her hand in a circle above Kotallo’s loins, “in this area…which I did my best to remove, clean and dress. Despite my best attempts…you will scar.”

His face reddened.

“Know this, Tenakth,” she assured him, “I am a mother and a grandmother and I have been a healer since before you were born. There was nothing your body showed me that I had not already seen.”

“Well…” He cleared his throat. “That’s…” He hissed sharply, breathing through the pain. “If the Carja wanted to stop me, they’ll have to do better than that.”

“While you will recover…what they did to you will…have lasting repercussions.” She sighed. “You know, of course, how a child is conceived.”

“Yes.” Kotallo stared at her, dread creeping up on him as she faltered. “Tell me plain, Utaru.”

She closed her eyes. “You will never be able to have children.” Her words were like ice water down his back on a hot day. Kotallo’s stomach churned and his skin prickled with horror.

“You said…I would heal.”

“And you shall…but your seed pouches, which is what we call…” She gestured to his loins again.

“Yes.” He said tightly.

“Your seed spilled on the ground and because of the damage…they have been disconnected from your manhood.” A tear trickled down her cheek. “I am so sorry.”

Kotallo stared at her. “I will never…”

“Never…” She pressed her lips together and stood up. “Forgive me, Tenakth…that I could have spared you this cruel blow, I would have…”

Kotallo closed his eyes. “Better to have been maimed than be known as the childless orphan.”

“No one knows, not even your friend.” He looked at her, distrusting her words. “I am old and when I die, your secret will be buried with me. I swear this to you, Tenakth.”

“My name is…”

“Say it not.” She insisted. “For, without a name, I cannot ever truly identify you.” She swallowed. “Please keep still and allow time and rest to heal you.”

Heal him?

Time and rest only served to give him space to think on what it was he had lost.

Not only were his parents taken from him but now, his descendants as well.

Kotallo’s rage was cold and he wanted to leap from the healer’s hut and throw himself on the nearest Carja.

But his injuries kept him still. Though the wounds were not grievous, their position was. The old woman told him off every time he tried to move and in the end, Kotallo had to heed her advice.

All he could do was look out of the entrance to the healer’s hut and watch the Utaru.

They were tilling the soil and planting in its embrace.

He watched as a toddler sat at the edge of the garden bed and played in the earth while his older brother followed the direction of his mother on how to make grooves in the dirt and plant seeds. A man approached and put his hands on his wife’s shoulders and as she stood up, her bulging belly could plainly be seen.

It was cruel salt rubbed into his aching wounded heart.

Kotallo knew that life would never be his now.

Bitterness curdled his blood and turned his mouth into a self depreciating smile.

“I’m no longer a threat to Olenka’s unbonded status.” He snorted, saying her name for the first time in months.

He groaned and rolled onto his back just as the healer came in.

“What did I tell you…”

“I know, I know.” He sighed. “I thought Utaru let machines do the planting for them.”

“You see any machines here in Stone’s Echo?”

“Well…no…”

She lit three torches in her healing hut which brightly illuminated the small space. “The land gods, which is what we called the Plowhorns, till the soil around Plainsong and sow the seeds which provide food for the Utaru. Here, however, there are no such land gods.”

“Then why live here?”

She eyed him critically. “Why live on the top of a mountain?”

“Because we can.”

“Just so.” She nodded and unrolled a slatted blind in the doorway that shielded the interior of her hut from prying eyes. Kotallo had suffered several inspections before and braced himself as she lifted the blanket then removed the herb poultices covering his loins. Apart from Olenka’s wide eyed stare, no one had seen him so exposed since his mother had looked after him as a baby.

The thought of a child made his chest ache unendingly and he turned his head, ashamed at the tear that trickled out. He would have wiped it away but the old healer was preoccupied by her administrations and he didn’t want to draw attention to it.

“Despite your refusal to remain still,” she said gruffly, “the wounds are healing.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.” Kotallo muttered.

“That’s because of the location.” She looked at him pointedly. “Even if you could cross No Man’s Land and get back to your camp, as I know you are planning on doing sooner rather than later, you would be no good in a fight. Your body is trying to protect itself, hindering even your stubborn will.”

“My squad needs me.” Kotallo grumbled at her.

“What do you think will instil more courage in them? Their leader that returns hale and hearty or their leader who limps back into camp, develops a fever because he didn’t listen to his healer and dies in the night from an infected…”

“Alright, alright…” Kotallo grunted at her then laughed darkly. “You’ve made your point.”

It pricked at his pride to be dabbed at and addressed in such a manner. He winced several times but refused to give voice to his pain.

“The Utaru…”

“Yes?”

Kotallo licked his lips, desperately trying to think of something to ask to distract him from what she was doing.

“I thought you were all farmers…or at least you lived off the bounty,” he hissed as one of the pieces of gauze had stuck to his skin with dried blood and she had to pluck it from his body briskly, “and didn’t know how to fight…”

“That would be a true statement for most Utaru.”

“But not all?”

“No. Do you not know of the trade between the Tenakth and the Utaru?”

“You speak of the tribute paid by the Desert Clan for food and water?” She nodded. Kotallo breathed his scream of pain through gritted teeth. “I am of the Sky Clan. The Desert Clan’s dealings with your people is not something I know much about.”

“Well,” she rinsed a cloth and cleaned some of the dried blood from his legs, “a trade only works when there are two people who want what the other has. The Utaru had an abundance of food and water so what could the Desert Clan possibly offer? Weapons? Black ink for our skin?”

Kotallo nodded. “What was exchanged?”

“A veteran.” He looked at her, curious beyond his pain. “A warrior who was older than most and could train Utaru in the ways of warfare.”

“So your people do know how to fight?”

“Not really.” Kotallo grimaced. “Only those interested in learning how avail themselves to the tribute’s experience. For many Utaru the notion of violence is a distasteful one.”

“Tenakth are defined by violence.” Kotallo muttered.

“How true this is.” She smiled, working constantly despite his questions. “When the Carja raids settled into inevitability, many Utaru begged the chorus, the body of Utaru who govern our people, to fight back. But the chorus refused their plea…so they left anyway, seeking out the tribute and learning from him of how to fight. From what I hear, we are not as good as the Tenakth in close combat but our archers are excellent.”

“I can confirm that.” Kotallo sighed with relief as cool paste was applied to his loins, smothering the wounds, encouraging them to heal. “The tributes…are they…happy here?”

“I’ve never met one to know.” She admitted, laying the poultice over his loins then covering him back up. “I’ll bring you some food.”

Unlike the Tenakth diet which tended to be hearty but meat heavy unless the ingredients could be easily plucked as they grew in the wild, the Utaru didn’t eat meat at all. The healer gave Kotallo grain that had been ground into flour, mixed with water and some herbs then baked to form something called ‘bread’. On its own it was edible but not particularly flavoursome however, dunked into the stew she also gave him and Kotallo was thrown back into his childhood to the meals his mother used to prepare from the earth they had both worked.

Kotallo had not thought much about the past, becoming accustomed to living at the Bulwark and he had forgone any dreams of the future after Olenka’s abrupt end with him.

But sitting in the healer’s hut, when she begrudgingly said he could do so, eating food that tasted familiar and watching the Utaru work from the doorway window, Kotallo had little else to do but ponder where his life was going.

He had hoped for a son or daughter…or both once but he didn’t think he had the courage to face another heartbreak and so, didn’t want to risk falling in love again. And now that any chance of being a father had been stolen from him, Kotallo knew his future could never look like his past.

Yet he watched the Utaru, their warmth and herb sprinkled life…and wondered if someone from the Sky Clan could ever be given in tribute to the Utaru.

“A home…a plot of earth…young people to train who are eager to listen and learn…” He heard his words and snorted. “A foolish dream, one that should be put in the same level of stupidity as thinking Olenka actually cared for me. I have to recover. I must return.”

When the healer finally gave her consent for him to leave, she warned him that she did so under the provision that he still had to rest as much as possible. She gave him a pouch of paste to apply to keep infection away until all the wounds had healed fully.

Kotallo could feel the tightness in his legs, the pull of skin that had to learn how to be supple again. He minded the healer’s words and walked calmly across No Man’s Land, keeping an eye out for Carja.

When he reached the campsite of his squad, there was a victory shout that put a Longleg’s roar to shame. He was sharply saluted then Jayko broke the seriousness of the moment by punching his arm.

“I looked after them for you, you big oaf.” He chuckled.

“You saved my life, you little fool.” Kotallo told him off.

“You’re welcome.” Jayko chuckled.

“Kotallo, your legend only grows.” Alaika smiled at him.

“If not for Jayko…”

“See!” Jayko turned to her. “I told you I deserved some of the accolades!”

“Ugh…” She rolled her eyes. “When you’re done supping at the crumbs of Kotallo’s fame, can we get back to killing Carja?”

“Let’s.”