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Kotallo the maimed

“Marshal Kotallo,” the shadow of his alcove at Memorial Grove was invaded by light and sound at Dekka’s approach, “Chief Hekarro wishes to speak with you.”

Kotallo lifted his head wearily and glared at her. He knew she wasn’t deserving of his ill temper but he was tempted all the same to unleash his anger. However, even as he began to rile himself up into it, his conviction left him.

He stood and reached for his armour.

He had not worn it since the disastrous embassy…since the loss of his left arm.

With only one arm, fixing his armour into place was awkward and frustrating, especially as Chaplain Dekka remained nearby.

His chest plate slipped as he was trying to buckle it on and his left shoulder still moved instinctively as if he had a left hand to assist him which only sent pain shooting up from the wound, through his body, causing him to grit his teeth and hiss in agony.

“Allow me, Marshal.”

“No.” He refused rudely. “I can do this!”

And yet, five minutes later, Kotallo’s pride admitted defeat as the plate slid from his chest and hit the ground. Kotallo’s shoulders sagged and he didn’t try to pick it up. He couldn’t even muster the humility to ask for help.

Thankfully, Dekka did so without making him grovel.

She picked it up and carefully fastened it around his chest, making sure to avoid his left arm. She also refastened the plates around his waist and stood back.

“Done.”

“Having to be dressed like a child…helpless…” Kotallo’s words were bitter indeed.

“Be thankful you can still wipe your own arse.” Dekka said lightly and Kotallo eyed her sharply. “Come, Marshal, your chief awaits.”

He had been living at the Grove, in a special room given to him so that he could be close to the healer who monitored his wound and made sure to keep the bandage clean.

The journey from Barren Light to the camp at Cinnabar Sands was a blur of pain and of darkness. He was either unconscious or he was in agony. They had done their best to tend the wound but they were not healers. Had Kotallo had the presence of mind he might have told them to take him to Stone’s Echo to see the Utaru healer there, if she was even still alive.

Ram Squad did their best to keep it clean on the way to Scalding Spear. There the healer had everyone running for cover as he made Kotallo sear the wound in fire, and his scream of pain was unable to be denied. He was heavily drugged and carried from Scalding Spear to the Grove on a stretcher where Hekarro’s healer did all he could for him.

He had not moved from his bed except for the most essential of tasks. He was told that Hekarro had come to see him but Kotallo had been asleep at the time.

No one else came.

For that, Kotallo was grateful.

He could not stomach their pity.

Even now, as he followed Dekka to the Arena where Hekarro stood on his outlook, Kotallo could feel the eyes of the Chief’s Guard.

Though his actions were counted as great, the result was damning.

Kotallo wasn’t sure he was even Tenakth anymore.

Hekarro didn’t look up at their approach but he said, “Thank you, Dekka. Return to your station and be prepared to meet our guest.”

“Yes Chief.”

Kotallo stood in the shadows of the overhang while Hekarro was washed with sunlight as he stared at the soldiers practicing in the Arena.

“Marshal Kotallo, approach.” Kotallo took two steps forward. Hekarro still stared at the Arena. “How are your wounds?”

“Your healer has done all he can.” Kotallo said bluntly. Hekarro nodded and Kotallo saw him swallow, an unusual sign of emotion. Suddenly he recalled that Hekarro had lost friends that day, too. Though Kotallo was alive, many were not. “Marshal Fashav…”

“Yes. I know.” Hekarro sighed deeply. “Many questioned my wisdom in allowing a Carja to participate in the Kulrut. Even I questioned if it would bring anything other than grief. But he proved himself to be a man of excellent character, a discerning judge and a merciful executioner. I shall miss his council.”

Kotallo wished he was better at advice and words. He knew how to follow and how to fight but he was not a learned man or a very wise one. When faced with an insurmountable challenge, he tended to just throw himself at it until it gave way.

At least, that’s the man he had been.

There wasn’t much left of him now.

Though the Bristleback had only taken his left arm, it might as well have been his life.

And something of Kotallo had been lost that day also. Something from the inside of him.

“You wanted to see me, Chief?”

“Yes,” Hekarro breathed in and squared his shoulders, “as you know, Marshals are essential to the outworking of my will amongst the Tenakth yet after the ambush by Regalla at Barren Light…”

“You have none.”

“I have you.” Hekarro correct and Kotallo bit back his argument. “As such, I have called a Kulrut and sent runners to the Commanders of the clans to send their warriors to compete. The Lowland and Desert Clan responded and have sent their champions.”

“And the Sky Clan?” Kotallo asked darkly.

“Nothing.”

“What excuse did the Commander give?”

“He gave nothing. He did not even allow my messenger to be granted access to the lift. He had to shout it up to the sentries who took an hour to respond with Tekotteh’s message. But the thoughts in his mind are not difficult to guess.” Hekarro said with a dark humour. “Tekotteh knows that Regalla will attack the Kulrut so that she can kill me in front of the assembled clans and lay claim to the title of Chief.”

“It is not that he fears her attack,” Kotallo bristled with righteous indignation, “but that he has always resented your strength of will. While Regalla assaults the Desert and Lowland Clans, he will watch the slaughter from behind the Bulwark.”

“Indeed.” Kotallo was relieved that Hekarro had already realised Tekotteh’s schemes. “With Regalla rallying rebels to her cause, the need for the clans to be united is more important than ever. I cannot hold a Kulrut with only two clans in attendance…”

He began to walk back to the throne room and Kotallo fell into step with him.

“If there was a warrior who could challenge Tekotteh, we might be able to take the Sky Clan out from beneath his power,” Kotallo winced as his arm tried to gesture and pain ripped through his chest, “but I am no longer of the Sky Clan and with my injury and we have no warriors capable of standing up to Tekotteh. Kivva might have but she and the squad she led went back to the Sheerside Mountains after the embassy and no word has been heard since. Tekotteh might have exacted a terrible punishment upon them for following your orders. Something must be done…”

“Something will be done.” Hekarro looked at him. “I am sending you to the Bulwark to make Tekotteh send warriors to the Kulrut.”

Kotallo gaped at Hekarro who gazed back at him calmly, their advance to the throne room stalled in the extraordinary request of the conversation.

“But…this…you cannot be serious!”

“In order to reunite the clans, I am deathly serious.”

“Sir…he will not listen to me!” Kotallo shuddered at the memory of the last time he’d spoken with Tekotteh. “I have not been back there since I left for the Kulrut and to do so, after the embassy…after…this…” He gestured to his arm. “He had no respect for me before, let alone now that I am maimed.”

“Kotallo,” Hekarro’s tone was stern and laced with reprimand, “you are not going to talk as one soldier to another. You are my Marshal…”

“I am barely Tenakth now!” Kotallo’s body was flushing hot and cold, his skin prickling at the thought. Nothing, no fight or conflict had ever had this effect on him. The only time he’d felt suffocated before was when he’d gone through the tunnel when he’d first marched on the Carja.

“The loss of your limb does not change who you are!”

Kotallo closed his eyes. Hekarro didn’t understand. Kotallo didn’t feel like himself anymore.

He was dead inside.

“Will you at least send me with a contingent of soldiers?”

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“None can be spared,” Kotallo grimaced and wished he’d died at the embassy once more, “however, you will not go alone. There was an outlander at the embassy, a warrior who defeated Regalla’s champion.”

Kotallo blinked. He had been overcome with pain, pinned beneath the machine and had not seen the battle between Grudda and the outlander but Ram Squad had told him of it afterwards. It seems she had been able to pierce his shield and cut him down. Because the fight had been honourable, Regalla had not ordered the outlander run down, sparing her life.

“She had broken the taboo of not opening the gates before the three banners of the Tenakth were displayed.” Kotallo tried to recall her. “She and Fashav spoke at length, I know not what about. By rights she should have been cut down for her impudence.”

“Her impudence saved Tenakth lives.” Hekarro pointed out. “She will go with you to the Bulwark.”

Kotallo clamped his jaw shut because if he didn’t, he was sure it would fall to the ground.

“An outlander and a maimed Marshal?”

“Yes.”

Kotallo shook his head, trying to think of a reason, however obscure, to get him out of this.

“Sir, she could be anywhere by now. We don’t even know why she broke the taboo.”

“That is a mystery to me also, however, I do know that she is on her way here.”

Kotallo blinked. “She walks in Tenakth territory? Has she no sense?”

“She has Fashav’s dagger, a sign of his promise that she would be granted safe passage.” The outrageous actions of this woman were almost beyond comprehension. “Scouts have reported sighting her not far from the Grove. She is making her way directly here, undoubtedly to see me. When she does, I will send her to you at Stone Crest. Together, you will confront Tekotteh and convince him to join with the other clans and unite against Regalla.” Kotallo began to shake his head. Hekarro put his hand on his uninjured shoulder. “This is my will. You are my Marshal. See it through.”

Kotallo stubbornness had run out. Hekarro was like the Bristleback he had faced at Barren Light. Immovable and to stand against him would be to Kotallo’s detriment.

“My Chief,” Dekka called respectfully from the back entrance to the throne room, “she is here.”

Hekarro nodded then looked at Kotallo.

No words were said.

What could he say?

Kotallo turned and followed Dekka.

As he came around the throne he spied the outlander in her unfamiliar tribal garb, her long red hair still the colour of blood. She was not looking at him, seeking Hekarro instead but he felt he could not resist speaking to her as he strode past.

“I will see you soon, outlander.”

He didn’t look to see her reaction, following Dekka all the way to the front of the Grove. He didn’t stop to speak with her, going to the Maw of the Arena, into the alcove he had stayed in while he healed and packed up his belongings as best he could. When he was done, he left without a word to anyone and headed for Sky Clan territory.

He did not tarry at Sheerside Climb, heading immediately for Stone Crest. The leader of the outpost that had been a watchtower, guarding the entrance to the Sheerside Mountains during the clan wars, met Kotallo as he arrived. His name was Okkra. Kotallo seemed to recall him from long ago, possibly even training in the pit with him in the Bulwark.

“Marshal Kotallo,” he saluted, his eyes drawn to the stump where Kotallo had once had a whole arm before flicking away, “I hoped we would see you here.”

“You knew I was coming?”

“After Chief Hekarro’s runner was dismissed from the Bulwark, it was hoped that the Chief would send a Marshal to deal with Tekotteh.” Okkra cleared his throat, trying not to look at the lack of arm again. “I did not realise…”

“I am here to wait for another,” Kotallo said brusquely, “an outlander who fought with the Tenakth against the rebels at Barren Light. She is to be given admittance.”

“An outlander…in the Sheerside Mountains?” Okkra was understandably surprised. “How…will we know her?”

Kotallo opened his mouth when he realised he did not know her name. “She…is unmistakable.” He finally answered. “She has hair like the colour of blood and I doubt many outlanders come this far north.”

“True. The hospitality of my lodge is open to you, Marshal, but before we sit…I feel I need to report on rebel activity.”

“Regalla’s rebels?” Kotallo’s voice was hollow with horror. “Here?” The leader nodded and led Kotallo to where Stone Crest ended on the edge of the mountain with an unobstructed and pristine view of the valley. “When a scout party came back to us with reports of Tenakth on machines, I confess, we laughed at them and put their report down to the imaginations of youth.” Okkra admitted. “However, after Ram Squad returned from the embassy with the report of what happened to the Marshals, what Regalla did…that she rode machines…”

“You sent out more scouts?”

Okkra shook his head. “We didn’t need to. After announcing her treachery at the embassy, Regalla stopped hiding her forces and they march through the valley daily.”

Kotallo stared at him. “And you have done nothing?”

“We lost one squad because Tenakth rebels stampeded their position and crushed them until only their tags identified them.” Okkra insisted. “We sent word to the Bulwark for reinforcements…but Tekotteh said that the rebels were not to be challenged or interfered with.”

Kotallo’s right hand balled into a fist and he struck the stone near him.

“It gets worse.” Okkra admitted. “While we were told not to interfere, I refused to remain ignorant. We’ve been watching what they’re doing. Some rebels ride machines and others they strip for parts…particularly cannons and any kind of weapons. With machine cannons braced on their hips, Regalla’s rebels could go anywhere. The Bulwark won’t fall but the rest of the Sky Clan, even Cliffwatch, could be targeted.”

“Understood.” Kotallo looked at the sky, darkening from soft blue to dark ink. “While I wait for the outlander, I will observe the valley for myself.”

“Yes Marshal.”

The outlander didn’t arrive until the following day. When she did, Kotallo was sitting at the edge of the lookout, watching the valley. He had heard the call from the tower saying that a single outlander was approaching. Even without the colour of her hair being declared, Kotallo knew there could be no other brazen enough to walk straight up to a Sky Clan settlement filled with soldiers.

Kotallo remained sitting, staring at the valley. Okkra was right. Regalla was making no attempt to hide what she was doing or the sheer number of machines she was marching through.

He heard the outlander speak to Okkra who pointed him out. She thanked him and approached from behind, coming to stand by his side. She didn’t say anything. She knew he knew she was there and simply waited.

Kotallo didn’t look at her, his right hand grasping a stone and squeezing it tightly.

“This valley is infested with Regalla’s rebels.” He said roughly. “The scouts from the village tell us that they have been moving machines through here for days.” Bile rose in his throat he was so incensed. “Some they ride, others they herd along while others they even strip for parts, especially cannons.” He stood up and turned to face her. Her eyes were the colour of new growth, pale green yet with depth that spoke of a grand tree that was just taking root. “The path ahead will not be easy. We should get going.” He flung the stone aside, his head partly down, waiting for her gaze to drop to where his arm used to be. “My orders are to guide you to the Bulwark so that you can speak to Tekotteh,” he should have left his words at that but he was too angry at the entire world to stop, “for all the good it’ll do.”

He walked away from her, knowing he was being ungracious and rude but couldn’t put his anger aside to be anything but.

“For all the good it’ll do?” She said, her tone firm and measured. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He looked at her, knowing that an outlander could not be anything but ignorant yet the absurdity that she was to stand before Tekotteh when she did not comprehend anything about who he was or what he controlled, irritating him.

“The Bulwark has stood unyielding since the birth of our clan.” He said, his voice as cold as the snow falling around them and as rough as the stone to which it clung. “Behind it, Tekotteh believes himself to be invulnerable.” She gazed at him calmly, not intimidated by his brusque manner. “If he insists on defying Hekarro’s orders, an outlander,” his hand went to clutch at the stump of his arm but he resisted, “and a maimed Marshal aren’t going to change his mind.” He was blunt in his address and turned to stride off.

“Your Chief seems to think differently.” She challenged him, giving Kotallo reason to pause.

He turned back to her and she held his gaze. “And that is the only reason I am still here,” he said, his teeth so tightly gritted together he thought he might shatter his jaw, “talking to you.” He had to pause. He had to breathe. He had to gain control lest she bare the brunt of his anger though she had done nothing to deserve it.

She waited patiently as he inhaled through his nose then had to release the air out of his mouth, shaking as he did so.

She studied him, her dark eyebrows framing her eyes, her hair of blood dotted with light flecks of snow.

“What makes you so sure Tekotteh won’t listen to us?”

“A snake safe in its lair hears nothing but its own rattle.”

She let out a slightly exasperated huff, her cheeks coloured with natural blush.

“Come on…is that all you’ve got for me?” She challenged. “Hekarro said you were from the Sky Clan before becoming a Marshal.” Kotallo knew he’d been ungracious and she was wise to press him for information given that it was also her life that was being risked. “I need to know what you know.”

He swallowed down his indignation and came close.

“Tekotteh is a petty, vindictive schemer,” he confessed the truth he had only become aware of since having left the Bulwark and seeing what a true leader and men of good character were really like, “and if he’d had any guts he would have gone after Hekarro long ago. But instead, he covets the Chiefdom from behind the Bulwark, biding his time, hoping his foes will weaken one another.” Just like Atikka had done to Lankatta…and Tekotteh had simply taken command of the Sky Clan from both their fallen corpses. Kotallo hated that he had been such a fool. “Is that enough for you?” He couldn’t keep the bite out of his tone.

“What makes the Bulwark so impenetrable?” She asked in a slightly daring tone, continuing the discussion well past where he wanted it to be.

“It’s made of massive boulders, impervious to any frontal assault. No army or machine has ever penetrated it.” Will she never stop asking questions? How could he make her understand the futility of what they were about to attempt? “I am the only thing that can get you inside.”

Thing…yes, that was a frighteningly accurate description of what he was now.

No longer of the Sky Clan.

Maimed in such a way he was barely Tenakth.

Only a Marshal because there were no others.

She turned and looked into the valley. “Why do you think Regalla’s forces are driving machines through the valley?”

Kotallo sighed and walked closer. Clearly she was not done talking.

“We’ve heard similar reports from across the clan lands.” He admitted though he did not even dream that it could be within the valley of his former home. “The rebels are gathering machines from the wilds,” he recalled what Okkra had told him the night before, “but whatever control they have over them doesn’t seem to last. So they herd them into camps and something else happens there…something…that makes their control,” his right hand reached up to the stump, “permanent.”

“An override with two phases…”

He paused and looked back at her, her words baffling to him.

“I…don’t know about that,” he admitted, “but it gets worse.” He glanced around and confided what he had been told at the Grove in the strictest confidence for fear of starting a panic. “We’ve heard rumours that the rebels are scouting larger machines,” he paused and admitted, “I don’t know what kind…”

“Let’s hope they don’t learn how to override them too.” She remarked and Kotallo had to agree. A single Bristleback under rebel control had been impossible for him to stop, let alone something bigger…

There was a pause and for once, Kotallo wasn’t anxious to get going.

“You were at the embassy,” he closed his eyes, knowing that the hope that she wouldn’t recognise him was a thinly veiled vanity, “I’m sorry…about the other Marshals.”

Arak…Zeppo…Fashav…their lifeless bodies were all he could dream about.

“Their deaths will not go unpunished.” His body tensed tightly and the nerves of his left shoulder spasmed. He couldn’t hide the pain, wanting to grasp his arm but knowing that it would hurt even more if he did.

“You’re still healing…” She offered gently, her eyes finally looking at the stump and he burned in shame. Kotallo didn’t want her empathy or pity or anything gentle. He was angry and in more pain than he could begin to convey.

“I will never heal,” he cut off her pity as though it was salt on a wound, “but that won’t stop me from cracking any skulls that need it.”

Had he finally chased her away? The silence was long.

“Good thing you’re on my side then.” She remarked then breathed in and out. “So…what’s the plan?”

Finally the questions were done.

“The Bulwark is to the southwest, so undoubtedly we will have to cross paths with Regalla’s troops along the way. We’ll either have to fight our way through or find a way to sneak past unnoticed. Neither will be easy.”

“Never is.” She said with a slight shrug and a smile.

He felt himself huff with the smallest of smiles. He turned away before he could let her see it. “Let’s get this over with. On me.”