Because of the nature of his work, Kotallo travelled a great deal and his notion of seasons and, as such, his concept of time, shifted and changed continuously. It was only when he returned to the Grove that he was able to take stock of how much time had passed.
He began to count the years from one crisis to the next.
Regalla’s resignation from Hekarro’s service had exposed division between the Grove and the Desert Clan as she was their finest warrior and held up as an example of courage, determination and skill. Commander Yarra had spoken personally with Hekarro, concerned about the unsettled nature of her clan. Perhaps if the meeting with the Carja had simply been a one off and they had never set foot in the Daunt again, Regalla might not have had the backing to do what she did.
However, when the Carja came again, with more offerings of the spoils of war and Hekarro granted them safe passage in and out of the Daunt, even allowing the Oseram to repair the lift so that larger items could be returned, barely healed wounds reopened and dissent began to stir.
Kotallo could understand how those with the red haze blinding them could not see that the Carja who came now were not the same as though that had come before. All Carja, Oseram and anyone who ventured from the east were painted with the same hue.
Yet he was part of several meetings with them and though he didn’t trust them, he had fought against the original invaders and knew that these newcomers who came in the name of Sun-King Avad and not his mad father, were different.
Dissent began to bubble and seethe but it did not come to ahead until Hekarro gave permission for the Carja to rebuild Barren Light.
Kotallo’s hand had itched to take up his blade as the Tenakth howled and berated their Chief who stood, unafraid in front of them and announced the decision that he had made.
“They will invade our land again!”
“They will reinforce their defences!”
“You have invited war once more!”
“Tenakth, hear me!” Hekarro waited for their cries of war to soften. It took a long time. “The rebuilding of the fortress at Barren Light is not only there to protect the Carja from assaults of undisciplined Tenakth who act against the will of their chief and who are inviting retaliation though the Carja have made none in six seasons! It stands as a line in the sand! Should the Carja leave their fortress and cross No Man’s Land to enter Tenakth territory, they know that only death waits for them!”
“They killed our families, our squads and gutted our homes!”
“We must unite and drive them out of the Daunt once more!”
“Once three clans of the Tenakth slaughtered each other with the same blood lust than the Carja exhibited and for decades longer than the Red Raids lasted!” Hekarro declared loudly. “Now, all three clans stand here as one tribe! This is because you buried your grievances so that the Tenakth could build homes that would stand, families that would last and warriors could grow old to witness their grandchildren! Brave Tenakth, I did not say we must trust the Carja, only that we stop shouting at them long enough to listen!”
“The time for talk is over, Hekarro!”
The Tenakth, who had been consumed by anger and indignation, fell silent as Hekarro turned with Kotallo and Fashav to see Regalla standing on the highest outlook of the Arena, her blade in her hand, face and armour scrubbed clean of Marshal colours. Instead, she had marked herself with white which caused her eyes to darken to black.
“You are no longer welcome in the Grove…” Kotallo said, stepping forward.
“I will hear her,” Hekarro said, putting his hand on Kotallo’s shoulder and he drew back reluctantly, “for she was once the tip of my spear though she has broken with me.”
“I served you willingly so long as you put the might of the Tenakth above all else…but with this…treaty,” she spat, “with the Carja…you say I broke with you…but you have acted treacherously with the enemy…and so I challenge you, Hekarro, for the leadership of the clans of the Tenakth!”
Kotallo’s teeth clamped together tightly. He looked at Hekarro and the big man’s face, though almost unreadable all of the time, showed signs of grief.
“If that is how it must be, then so be it.” Hekarro said. “The Arena awaits.”
Regalla let out a sniff of disdain as she walked past Fashav, leaping into the Arena and rappelling to the sand below as the Tenakth cheered and yelled.
Though Kotallo wanted to offer his service to his Chief and fight Regalla for him, he knew that it was not his place to do so. He and Fashav watched as Hekarro readied his weapons then he turned.
“Attend me.” They came forward. “Marshal Kotallo, if this is my last command to you as your chief, heed it well. Should I fall, ensure that Fashav reaches the Daunt and returns home.”
Kotallo’s eyes widened in surprise as Fashav blustered.
“I won’t. I won’t run like a coward! I will stand with you.”
“Regalla’s hate of you runs deep. She will make an example of you.”
“She can try…” Fashav ground through his teeth.
“Friend, hear me,” Hekarro looked at him firmly, “Regalla will not have come here alone. Should she prevail, those that oppose her will be cut down by those that are waiting for the word to do so.”
“All the more reason for me to stay and fight.”
“I would have you go back to the Sundom.” Hekarro insisted. “You have been a good friend and a Marshal without parallel. Your ignorance was held in tangent with your openness for knowledge. I would have the truth of the Tenakth extent past the boundaries of the west…and for you to return home.” Fashav went to argue but Hekarro drew back. “Do not contest me on this.”
Fashav’s shoulders bowed. “I…will heed your word.”
He rocked sideways with a smack on the arm from Hekarro. “Lose that long face. I am not dead yet.”
Hekarro descended into the Arena, Fashav and Kotallo at the edge of the perch, staring at the two warriors who spoke quietly before Regalla spat at Hekarro’s feet.
There could be no turning back now.
The duel was the most fearsome, most brutal that Kotallo had ever witnessed. Regalla was all fire, rage and fury and though Hekarro was undoubtedly stronger, his former Marshal was faster and fuelled by desperation. Not even Atikka’s attack on Lankatta or Tekotteh’s retaliation against him came close to compare.
Numerous times Regalla nearly ran Hekarro through and Hekarro’s violent strikes could have cut her in two had she not shifted in the blink of an eye.
Fashav’s face was contorted with concern and Kotallo began to make plans for their escape though he doubted they would make it out of the Grove. Grudda, Regalla’s brute, was not in attendance though they knew he was her second in command. This meant he was probably waiting for a signal that his commander had won the challenge so that he and the small but deadly force that hid in the forest around the Grove could charge in and slaughter any who stood for Hekarro.
Kotallo began to wonder if there was another path they could take when the Tenakth roared in unison and he blinked, his gaze returning to the present to see Regalla on her knees, her sword torn from her hands, discarded upon the sand while Hekarro stood over her.
And then, there was silence.
“You…were once my best.” Hekarro lamented softly, his voice carrying in the sudden absence of sound.
“I would rather die than be counted amongst the Tenakth that lie in bed with the Carja!” Regalla snarled.
“Very well.” Hekarro heaved his blade up, as though it weighed twice as much as it did. Kotallo’s eyes sharpened, ready to watch the end of Regalla…but it never came. Hekarro’s arm fell, his blade sinking into the sand.
Ripples of whispers like the shudder of sand as a Slitherfang crawled beneath the surface, echoed around.
“What is he doing?” Kotallo hissed.
“Hekarro…no…” Fashav shook his head. “She will only bring you pain…”
Regalla’s eyes widened as Hekarro spoke softly. She howled and flung a fistful of sand at him.
“You…You are not Tenakth! If you were worthy to be called Chief, you would strike me down!”
“I said go, Regalla!” Hekarro ordered. “Or stab me in the back as I walk away.”
He turned and did so. But Regalla remained on her knees. However, her vile screeches and damning words cut the Chief deeper than any blade. Hekarro climbed to the top of the Arena, his shoulders heavy and his will almost broken.
“Chief,” Kotallo breathed, “Regalla…she…must die.”
“She…was the point of my spear…so her betrayal is all the more difficult to bear.” Hekarro’s head lowered. “I could not bring myself to end her.”
“She does not deserve your mercy!”
“It is a far worse punishment than death for she will have to live with it…as will I.” Hekarro trudged to the throne room.
Kotallo turned to Fashav. “This cannot end well.”
“No…” Fashav shook his head. “I had begun to think that Hekarro was a man without fault…but I see now that he is a man like all of us…and every man can make mistakes.”
“The mistakes of a Commander or Chief impact all around them.”
“I hope your spear arm is as strong as it used to be and that Silent Kill is still sharp.” Fashav looked at Kotallo. “The fragile peace we fought for is in danger, not from without but now, from within.”
All the Tenakth loyal to Hekarro felt the same way and there was a flurry of activity to make ready for a frontal assault for the Grove. However, as days passed and the only sighting of Regalla and her small group of likeminded dissidents was far to the south of the Desert Clan, tensions began to ease.
“It makes sense, I suppose.” Kotallo mused. “She does not have the resources for an all out assault.”
“Regalla would need to make some serious allies and gain a great deal of support in order to take the Grove.” Zeppo agreed.
“How goes it at Scalding Spear?”
“Commander Yarra is not one to whimper at the smallest bump,” Zeppo admitted, “so when she says it’s been a strain to keep a tight rein on the soldiers of the Desert Clan, I do not doubt that she is working hard to maintain order.”
“Regalla and Grudda were of the Desert Clan,” Kotallo sighed, “and well thought of. It makes sense that their clan struggles the most with her desertion.”
“Though not of the Desert Clan, your deeds at Barren Light are highly extoled.” Zeppo remarked. “Perhaps, when we return from the next Embassy, you will accompany me to Scalding Spear that we might stand with Yarra?”
“If you think it will help, I can do this.” Kotallo nodded.
Embassy was the name given to the meeting between Tenakth and Carja at Barren Light.
It had been a painstaking process, coming up with the correct formalities to adhere to which would allow Carja and Tenakth to interact.
Though the Carja were technically allowed to be in No Man’s Land, the doors to Barren Light able to be opened for anyone who wanted to venture out, reports from the Desert Clan’s wide patrols and from their communications with the Utaru testified to the reluctance of easterner to risk being killed in an unprovoked skirmish. A few Oseram were seen here and there but as long as they left the Utaru alone and stayed away from Tenakth borders, they were not seen as intruders.
If any outlanders were not in the Daunt when the doors were shut and barred with metal, then they risked being on the wrong side should things not go peaceably.
The embassy was always attended by a Carja envoy which consisted of the commander of Barren Light, Nozar, a Sun-Priest in his red robes and scroll and several soldiers who could not adequately wield weapons because they were usually carrying a large chest of things to be returned to the Tenakth.
For the envoy to be permitted to open the gates of Barren Light, all three clans of the Tenakth had to be in attendance. This was demonstrated by the displaying of the three totem poles bearing the colours of the three clans. The totems and the banners were kept in the capitals of the clans and representatives of the three clans brought them to Barren Light.
Hekarro’s Marshals deemed that it was unwise for Hekarro to attend the embassies as there was a chance that the Carja were just waiting for him to show himself and be assassinated. As such, the Marshals always attended the embassies on his behalf.
Fashav was not one of the Marshals permitted to attend.
Even he said that was wise although Kotallo could see that he yearned for news of home.
There had been five embassies and as they approached the sixth one, Hekarro called his Marshals to his side in the throne room. Kotallo was surprised by Fashav’s presence as, with the Tenakth Marshals all at the embassy, he was usually sent to the settlements of the clans of the Tenakth to outwork Hekarro’s will.
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“I wonder what the Carja will demand at this embassy?” Zeppo chuckled darkly. “They wanted Carja armour returned at the last one.”
“I believe it carries the same significance as our tags do for us to the families of the soldiers.” Kotallo explained.
“I used the helmet I got from a commander I decapitated as a pisspot.” Zeppo winked. “I wonder if they want that one back?”
Kotallo grimaced. “Perhaps not.”
“Marshals, come forward.” Hekarro gestured. Kotallo noticed lines around his Chief’s face. He had aged more in six months than he had in the entire time Kotallo had seen him since becoming a Marshal. “The time for the sixth embassy with the Carja is upon us. At the fifth, a promise of a large trove of Tenakth tags and spoils of the Red Raids was made. Until now, you have enforced my will and not given or promised more than I have wanted…but the time has come to return something of great importance to the Carja…”
“What could we possibly have that they want?” Zeppo demanded.
Kotallo saw Fashav’s face twitch.
“Marshal Fashav…will be leaving the Tenakth and returning to the Sundom.”
Kotallo felt as though he’d been slugged in the stomach. Fashav’s expression was conflicted and his pale eyes, grieved.
There seemed little else to be said. Runners had gone to the capitals of the Sky Clan and Lowland Clan to summon Tenakth envoys who would bear the totems and banners of their clans. Already the Lowland clan had arrived for they had the farthest to come. They would march with the Marshals and meet the Sky Clan envoy at Scalding Spear before journeying together to Barren Light.
Kotallo noticed that Fashav kept to himself for the most part.
“It is hard to know where your mind is at.” He remarked to the Marshal who glanced at him as they walked the path together.
“I find I am having trouble knowing that myself.” Fashav admitted. “To go home after so long and to a land not under threat of Jiran…I know I should be elated that I did not die in the Red Raids as I well could have deserved…” He glanced over his shoulder at the land of the Tenakth, Memorial Grove already gone from sight. “However, I gave myself to this life and forwent any hope of returning to the Sundom. Now…” Fashav shook his head.
“I know Chief Hekarro will miss your council,” Kotallo confessed, “and I have also enjoyed our conversations.”
“You have become a good friend to me also, Kotallo.” Fashav nodded. “Though I do not know what the future holds, if Avad truly wants to establish a lasting peace and treaty with the Tenakth, perhaps I will return to Barren Light as a bridge between our two peoples.” He looked at his skin which had been marked with much Tenakth ink. “There is so much we could learn from each other…so much we have misunderstood.”
Kotallo wasn’t sure there was anything the Carja had that he wanted in his Tenakth culture but Fashav’s hope was sincere.
As they reached the peak of the mountain pass that would begin its descent towards the desert where Scalding Spear stood in formidable glory, Kotallo spied a Tenakth runner, a Lowland Clan soldier looking around anxiously.
“Hikkat?” Zeppo looked around. “You were supposed to summon the Sky Clan envoy and return to the Grove…why are you here?”
“Marshals, I was sent here with a message from the Sky Clan Commander, Tekotteh.” Hikkat looked ashamed. Kotallo’s jaw tightened.
“What does he have to say for himself?”
“He…refuses to send the totem…or the banner…or any soldiers for the envoy.” Hikkat swallowed. “He says that to parlay with the Carja is dishonourable and he will not allow the Sky Clan to take part in it.”
Of all the soldiers in their party, Kotallo was the only one who had been of the Sky Clan. He felt their gaze acutely as his fists tightened.
“Without the Sky Clan…the embassy cannot proceed.” Zeppo looked between Fashav and Kotallo. “Tekotteh…to have sent a runner to declare his cowardice…I will go and tear strips off him…”
“No,” Kotallo put his hand out to stop Zeppo, “give me this task and see Fashav to Barren Light. I will join you there as soon as I can.”
“Even if Tekotteh refuses the lift and you climb the Bulwark, you cannot bring the totem across No Man’s Land on your own.” Fashav argued.
“I will drag it the entire way if I have to.” Kotallo vowed. “Carry out the Chief’s will. No matter what it takes, I will meet you at Barren Light.”
Without further discussion, Kotallo backtracked then headed northward when he reached the base of the hills. The air began to become crisp and sharpen and the ground crunched beneath his feet from the lightly fallen fresh snow.
His anger grew with every step. By the time he reached the Bulwark he would be so riled up he might throw Tekotteh from his pathetic safe perch behind the wall. Kotallo knew his rage was unwise but he was almost beyond caring when he made Sheerside Climb.
The soldiers recognised him and saluted. He heard them whispering after him as he continued north…
…but before he could reach Stone Crest he came across a familiar squad making their way towards him.
“Marshal Kotallo,” Kivva greeted, “Ram Squad reporting for duty.”
“Duty?” Kotallo said sternly.
“For the embassy.” Kivva smiled. “Gerrah was in the Commander’s Lodge when the runner came with Chief Hekarro’s message and she heard Tekotteh’s response. She sought me out to salvage Sky Clan’s honour with your help.”
“The Sky Clan has no honour while its Commander deals so cowardly with the other clans, sabotaging the embassy from behind the Bulwark.” Kotallo unleashed in cold fury.
“Agreed,” Kivva nodded, “so Gerrah helped arrange for us to be on ‘patrol’ that we might leave the Bulwark and we can stand with you at the embassy.”
Kotallo shook his head. “Without the totem bearing the Sky Clan’s banner, the Carja will not be permitted to open the gate…”
“You mean this totem and banner?” Kivva gestured to the other two in her squad who shouldered heavy packs. Kotallo watched as they heaved them from their shoulders. At a casual glance, it looked as though they were just hauling heavy swags and some firewood but as he looked closer, Kotallo could see portions of the totem hiding within. “We stole and dismantled it, hiding it in our swags. We thought we could reassemble it when out of Sky Clan territory.”
Kotallo shook his head, a smile curving on his lips at the ingenuity of Gerrah and the bravery of Ram Squad.
“There is going to be hell to pay when Tekotteh discovers the deception.” He muttered then brightened. “But I would weather any tantrum of his to have such fine soldiers stand with me at the embassy. Come, let us make haste.” He grasped one of the swags and heaved it onto his shoulder.
“Sir, I can carry that.”
“You have already done so,” Kotallo said firmly, “we have a long way to go and will share this burden together.”
Though the Sky Clan had indeed been reduced in the honour of its ilk by its Commander, Kotallo was relieved that there were those within its ranks who still maintained excellence of character.
Despite their haste, when they reached Scalding Spear the main party had already left. Commander Yarra made sure they had food and precious water for the final leg of their journey. Had Kotallo been on his own, he might have risked a mountain crossing across the spine of the highest peaks. However, because they were bearing the totem which was no small thing despite being disassembled, he had to suffer a northern route, skirting along the western border of Tenakth territory and across Cinnabar Sands, cutting through No Man’s Land.
Though he’d only had the barest of interactions with the Utaru and nothing since he spent almost a week at Stone’s Echo, healing, Kotallo’s heart was grieved when he saw the fields of Plainsong. Even from a distance it was clear that their lands were suffering heavily from the blight which destroyed the earth, ravaged plants and poisoned the water. It had only appeared in Tenakth territory two seasons ago, small patches and was a curiosity rather than a threat. However, as the weeks had passed, it had spread like the worst of infections, killing edible and inedible plants alike and animals caught in the expanding breadth of its toxins keeled over and died.
The Utaru’s lifestyle was derived from the bounty of the land and the machines they referred to as land-gods. They were not the lazy farmers the Tenakth thought they were yet Kotallo knew the blight would be throwing their tribe into chaos, doubt and dismay.
Yet he could spare no time to stop even when their march was spied by Utaru scraping at the edges of their land for any kind of edible harvest. They didn’t question their presence and the Tenakth didn’t question what they were doing. It was clear each tribe had their own burdens to bear and the totem was both an urgent and a heavy one.
It was a great relief when Barren Light came into view.
They had decided not to assemble the totem until they were almost there as it was awkward to carry. Kivva ordered the packs off the shoulders of her squad and they put it back together. It required two soldiers to carry it as they marched. Kivva stopped Kotallo as he went to pick it up.
“No, sir, the embassy has waited long enough. We will display the Sky Clan’s colours. You go on ahead and join the other Marshals,” she blanched, “I mean…not that I meant to order you around, sir…”
Kotallo smiled. “Your advice is sound. I will go ahead. Stay here until you are called for.”
He strode away from them, knowing that the Sky Clan’s colours could not be in better or braver hands.
The Tenakth envoy always gathered beneath an arch not far from where a bridge had been built over the river that flowed from the Daunt. It was a protected alcove, unable to be effectively assaulted from either side and a good place to meet.
As Kotallo approached, he could see Zeppo and Arak standing with the soldiers from the Lowland and Desert Clans. However, Fashav was off to one side, speaking with a young woman with hair that rippled and flowed like blood who was not Tenakth, Carja or Oseram. Her manner of dress was unfamiliar as was that of her companion, a young man with dark skin and a faded blue mark over his right eye.
They were outlanders and they had either been outside the Daunt when Barren Light had closed its doors or they had done the unthinkable and left the fortress while the embassy was imminent. Kotallo might have been affronted by their presence but he was already shouldering the disgrace of Tekotteh’s cowardly refusal to attend.
“Look, the Sky Clan’s colours!”
Kivva had erected the totem expediently. The Tenakth envoy turned and saw him approach.
“Tenakth,” he greeted, sparing no attention for the outlanders, “I have brought the Sky Clan with me.”
Zeppo’s lips curled in disdain as he asked a question that he already knew the answer to.
“And the Commander?”
Kotallo had already decided to do all in his power to shield Gerrah from any punishment by taking the blame upon himself. “Ah…no. I could only convince a few.” He could feel the disgust from the other Tenakth and looked around. “He isn’t yet aware that we left.”
Would their deception be enough?
Fashav turned and walked into their midst, leaving the outlander woman on the side.
“We have banners from all three clans. If there are fewer from the Sky Clan, it cannot be helped.”
“He’s right.” Zeppo agreed, raising his hand to where the soldiers of the clans waited. “Sound the horn.”
One of the soldiers of Ram Squad heaved the bulky horn to his lips and blew into it, a deep, throaty echo coursing across the Daunt, letting the Carja know that the three clans of the Tenakth were in one accord…those that had bothered to attend, that is.
“What’s going on?” The outlander woman asked.
Kotallo stepped back. Whatever her business was in the west, it clearly had nothing to do with him. He turned to Zeppo who rolled his eyes at the outlanders.
“They had the nerve to leave the fortress while the embassy was imminent. By rights, I should have cut her down…but Fashav stopped me.”
“Then he had his reasons.” Kotallo admitted, trusting his Marshal ally.
Then the sound of metal and gears reached their ears. Kotallo pointed.
“The Carja have opened the gates.”
Commander Nozar escorted, somewhat propelled, the Sun-Priest towards them. A small group of soldiers went ahead with a large chest of the promised Tenakth tags, weapons and armour that had been torn from the bodies of fallen soldiers.
The embassy was always tense with Tenakth and Carja staring each other down. Nozar’s face was like stone, however, Kotallo thought he saw him shoot an irritated look at the outlander woman. What had she done to irk him so?
The soldiers put the chest down and stepped aside. With trembling hands the Sun-Priest stepped forward, a pasty faced fellow that only repelled the Tenakth even further from the notion of the worship of the sun.
“As the sun rises over a land at war, so too can it set over a land at peace.” He said in a well practiced manner. Clearly he had recited this many times. “Today is such…”
“Marshals!”
The voice cut through their concentration and they turned, looking for the speaker. Kotallo’s eyes shifted, his dread rising as he recognised the voice even before he laid eyes on Regalla, standing upon the secondary cliff that looked down onto the plateau that extended out from the Daunt and Barren Light.
“Hear me Marshals, you who claim to be Tenakth!”
Kotallo grimaced as Zeppo snorted. “What does she think she’s doing?”
“Regalla is no fool…” Kotallo muttered, sensing there was more to this attack that had yet to be revealed.
“You have forgotten that our people were born in blood,” Regalla continued, no longer wearing any colours of the clans, adorned in black and white, “the blood of the Carja! Instead you pledge your spears to a Chief who conspires with the enemy. Hekarro has betrayed us. The embassy is proof,” she held out her jagged blade, “and all you of you Marshals are his accomplices. For this I condemn you to death!”
The Carja were already backing away from the arch, the Sun-Priest nearly wetting himself in fear.
Zeppo mocked Regalla. “You’ll need more than toothless threats to intimidate us, exile!”
Kotallo thought for a moment that Regalla smiled…and it was not pleasant.
Suddenly a Clawstrider appeared beside her, glowing red against its dark metal hide.
The Tenakth immediately drew their weapons, recognising a very dangerous machine. Kotallo hoped rather than believed that its presence would deal with Regalla before they had to.
Then Regalla did the unthinkable…she climbed atop the machine, sitting upon its back.
“Lancers,” she called, “form up!”
More machines, Bristlebacks, appeared on the edge of the cliff, each one bearing a Tenakth rebel.
“They’re riding machines!” Commander Nozar gasped. He turned to Fashav. “Fashav, come with us now or not at all!” He said as he began to run in the same direction as the Sun-Priest and the soldiers.
Fashav spared a brief glance back at his fellow Tenakth. Kotallo didn’t know if he saw it, but he nodded at him to go.
Fashav joined the Carja running back to Barren Light but Regalla was faster than the speed of their legs. Fire arrows rained down on them as the outlander woman yelled at them to get to cover. However, some of the soldiers pierced before they could react. Kotallo was pinned behind the arch and knew that to expose himself, even to try to pull a soldier to safety, would be to invite his own immediate death.
He growled, angry at his poor position and peered out, only to see the outlanders had grabbed one of the fallen Tenakth soldiers, dragging him out of the line of fire. The others were not so fortunate. But while the Tenakth at the arch had a place to hide, the Carja were exposed in the run to Barren Light.
Amidst the screams and sound of fire, Kotallo heard Regalla cry, “run them down!”
He stood and leaned out, watching helplessly as the left flank of Bristlebacks charged down the decline. Some soldiers were struck by arrows but the others were crushed beneath the trample of machines. He could not hear properly but then a voice that was very familiar to him cried out,
“Carja! Stand your ground!”
Kotallo couldn’t see Fashav through the Bristlebacks that surrounded what remained of the Carja envoy. He could see the falter of the Carja archers upon the battlements. They were unable to let loose their arrows without striking their own.
“What happened?” The male outlander begged of the young woman who had a better view of the slaughter. “Can you see?”
She turned, her expression deathly serious. “It’s just us now…”
Kotallo’s chest cracked.
Fashav, his friend and fellow Marshal, was dead.
“Hey!” He heard the woman’s voice cry out. “Come down and fight fair!”
Regalla was not foolish enough to respond to her goad, sending her lancers instead, rebel soldiers on the backs of Chargers, fast and agile.
As they descended the right flank of the cliff, the young woman looked at the Marshals and Tenakth that remained at the arch.
“Get ready.” She ordered with the strength of one whose commands were to be obeyed.
Kotallo was already on his feet with a scythe in his hands at the end of a sturdy pole. He knew this. He knew how to kill. He was ready.
“Stick to cover,” Kotallo advised, “archers on the ridge!”
Without a long range weapon, Kotallo had to wait for the Charges to come close and the rebel archers to cease firing lest they hit their own. He regretted that, amongst the Tenakth who stood, there were no archers however, the outlanders seemed to have keen eyes and excellent bows. They clipped several of the soldiers from their mounts even as they charged through the dry grass that they’d set on fire. The Charges continued to attack though their riders were slain. Kotallo’s mouth turned into a snarl and he ran at one, slicing out with the scythe, cutting the tendons of its legs, causing it to go into a headlong tumble, snapping its neck as it did so.
Even as he fought, Kotallo had already realised the odds.
They were all dead.
Regalla outnumbered them and she had machines at her command.
But Kotallo was not about to give up without a fight.
He and Zeppo were almost back to back, fighting one on one with the rebels that were heavily armoured and prepared for war. Kotallo ducked away, striking out hard at his opponent, Marshal Zeppo in his sights. The former lowland warrior dealt a fatal blow and paused, just a moment, to breathe…
…before two arrows struck him, one in the shoulder and the other in the chest from an archer atop a Bristleback that was charging Kotallo’s friend down.
Kotallo’s bellow of ‘no’ ripped from his throat as he knocked down the rebel he fought and picked up a spear. He hurled it with every ounce of strength he had, the spear impaling the rider, throwing him off the back of his machine. But the Bristleback continued its charge. It was going to run down Kotallo’s friend.
He’d already lost one today.
He wasn’t going to lose another if he could help it.
Without thinking, Kotallo charged the Bristleback, running almost over the top of Zeppo, slamming into the machine’s head. He dugs his heels in even as the Bristleback continued to push forwards, Kotallo’s strength slowing it but unable to stop it. The Bristleback lifted its snout and suddenly Kotallo’s armoured left arm was not pressed against just metal, but the churning, spinning spiked gears that were on either side of its head.
Kotallo could feel his armour resist then break apart like kindling, the gears grinding into his flesh and bone until he collapsed on the ground. The Bristleback reared, its hooves and weight about to crush Kotallo when Zeppo lunged upright, thrusting his spear into the Bristleback’s unprotected underbelly. It slipped on its back legs, its fall deflected from Kotallo so that it did not crush him, but his legs were pinned…
…and the screeches of pain that he could hear were his own.
He couldn’t shift the weight of the Bristleback, not with one arm and the pain…
He had never known anything like it.
He heard nothing.
He didn’t know how the battle went or how it ended.
Ram Squad were finally able to reach him, lifting the Bristleback up enough that he could be pulled out from underneath it. Kotallo’s screams of pain were hidden behind his teeth yet even in his worst, he could see that his sacrifice had been in vain.
Zeppo was dead.
Arak was dead.
Fashav was dead.
And for a time, Kotallo wished he was dead too.