The call to march came the next day. The Orphan Squad were eager to be on their way and made sure to walk with Fareak amidst the sea of Desert Clan red, yellow and black and the Lowland Clan’s dark red like dried blood and even darker turquoise. Their cool colours, the bright blue, white and luminous pink, seemed to set them apart, even to the point of exclusion.
The Tenakth, nearly fifty soldiers strong, marched out of the heavy, humid forest where the Grove was hidden up a path that wound through jagged hills where scrub and small animals were plentiful. When they reached the other side of the hills, a Tallneck was walking in grand circles, its march never ending.
The youths stared at it in awe. Kotallo had only been able to spy the vaguest glimpse of a Tallneck from Cliffwatch, the Sky Clan’s most western settlement.
This Tallneck was practically on top of them, its feet even larger than Tremortusk hooves and its round head cast a sizeable shadow when the sun came out from behind the clouds.
“Aren’t we a little close?” Alaika asked fearfully.
“Tallnecks are one of few machines that don’t attack, although they have been known to crush the odd distracted soldier…and machine on occasion.” Fareak admitted. “I maintain it’s because their heads are so far from us that they simply don’t see us at all.”
Kotallo shivered as the Tallneck reached the apex of its circuit and turned in a wide arc, heading back the way it had come. Regalla led the Tenakth on a winding path through larger hills. By now, the landscape had lost any green and become grey and red, dusty and hot. Kotallo spluttered as a brisk breeze showered him with sand rain. He shook it from his hair and pulled several annoyed faces.
“You learn to keep your mouth closed,” Fareak chuckled, “and don’t let the Desert Clan Tenakth catch you spitting. Water is precious here.”
The Tenakth stopped at Arrowhand, a sizeable Desert Clan settlement where they were able to replenish some supplies, though every drop of water was scrutinised.
They stayed one night before Regalla marched them southward, following the line of the hills that became larger and more jagged yet the ground flattened and softened until they were wading through sand. Kotallo looked at Jayko and shook his head.
“I know.” Jayko marvelled. “We’re definitely not in the Sheerside Mountains anymore.”
“I’m starting to resent my sweat.” Arakko admitted.
“So am I.” Alaika muttered.
“I bathed…back at Memorial Grove.”
“Trust me, that wasn’t enough.”
“Ugh.”
Regalla took them across the dunes where snakes and lizards scurried and vultures glared at them from the safety of their perches to another range of mountains which were impassable to the eye. There was a strange round tunnel leading into the mountains.
“Here,” Regalla gestured, “this is what my scout discovered. It’s how the Carja have been able to cross the Spinebreak and get to the Lowland Clan territory without being seen by Desert Clan patrols.”
“It goes all the way through?” Fareak marvelled.
“Into No Man’s Land.” Regalla nodded. “Tell your people to walk silently. Any loud noise might bring the tunnel down.”
There was no need to tell the Orphan Squad. The idea that they were inside a mountain was spine trembling for them. They lived their lives on top of mountains and in air so thin they could almost soak it through their skin. The tunnel was terrifying and they marched as softly as they could.
There was a break in the middle where a natural chasm had opened and the sky above was a welcome sight. Yet it only lasted the length of time it took to cross it before they entered another tunnel which was thankfully a great deal shorter.
Kotallo stood up when he staggered out at the far end and straightened his shoulders.
“I’ve been nearly bent in half for most of that.” He groaned.
“Look at all that water!”
An unfathomable stretch of green water sparkled in the sinking sun. Though they desperately wanted to stand and stare at it, Regalla ordered them on to which Fareak protested.
“The soldiers are exhausted. They’ll be no good if we march them to death.”
“I am not wasting an opportunity like this on soldiers who are too young and too inexperienced to keep up.” Regalla snapped. “Stay at the back with the children if you must…but I will take the warriors to the field and prepare our ambush tonight.”
Fareak sighed and shook his head.
“We can keep going, Fareak.” Arakko insisted.
“It’s not just you four,” Fareak reassured them, “Regalla is fuelled by hate…the ache of weariness doesn’t occur to her. She feels nothing except rage.”
They made it to the field that night. No fires were lit and they had to keep completely silent.
“Why?” Kotallo whispered to Jayko as they lay on their sleeping mats.
“In case Carja scouts are watching this place.” Jayko breathed. They pretended to be asleep as one of the commanders walked past then opened their eyes again. “Kotallo…are you scared?”
“Terrified. You?”
“Same.” Jayko shrugged. “Part of me wishes it was tomorrow night…then I’d either be a warrior or I’d be dead.”
“I won’t let you fall.” Kotallo insisted.
Jayko grinned then closed his eyes properly.
Kotallo did the same, willing sleep to take him but the wretched churn of anticipation and nervousness kept him awake far longer than his exhausted body would have liked.
In the morning he was cold, stiff and ordered into position.
In the darkness of the night before, he’d been unaware of the ancient machines that littered the field. In a way, he was relieved because the sight of their long, creeping legs, their cannons and the dark hue of their hulls would have given him nightmares. Fortunately they provided plenty of cover across the field. Orphan Squad huddled together. Fareak was not with them but they could see him if they arched their heads which they only dared to do once before hunkering down.
The air was thick with anticipation and their nerves were drawn tight.
Then they heard the sound of talking, of voices that didn’t sound like Tenakth. They were noisy and loud, speaking without care, thinking no one could hear them. Boots thumped the earth and coarse laughter grated against Kotallo’s mind.
The Carja.
There were dozens of them…even more than there were Tenakth and they were all dressed in heavy armour, as gaudily decorated as their eyes.
“By the Ten…” Jayko breathed.
Kotallo nodded, his hand tightening on his spear, his heart hammering out of control.
Every raider he killed was one less that could prey on the Tenakth.
He had to be brave and strong like his father, defending those who couldn’t defend themselves.
The time had come for him to be a warrior.
He would not falter.
He would not…
“Tenakth attack!”
In his enthusiasm to heed Regalla’s war cry, Kotallo stood up and banged his head on the damn machine he’d been hiding under. His vision blurred but he scrambled out and ran towards the fray, hearing the shouts of the Tenakth and the screams of the Carja as the front line met their unsuspecting prey.
At first there was no one for him to attack as the Carja were mostly gathered together in one place but when the Tenakth shredded the first line of their defence, the Carja began to scatter. To their credit, despite the surprise and horror of the Tenakth ambush, the Carja charged into battle, their blades out and their bows, singing as the yew let loose many arrows…
…but it was all too little too late.
For every crime, every abomination and despicable torture the Carja had visited upon the Tenakth and the Utaru, the Carja paid for in blood.
Kotallo was confused by all the sound, brandishing his spear but unable to use it as there were no Carja close enough for him to run through.
Arakko, Alaika and Jayko had all disappeared from his line of sight and his inexperience was causing him to panic.
He heard a loud roar nearby and turned to see Fareak fighting a brute of a raider, hands like meat mallets and in armour that looked like it was three inches thick. The brute grabbed Fareak’s spear, throwing the Marshal to the ground and snapping it like a twig. He stood over the Marshal, stomping on Fareak’s chest so hard he cried out, trying in vain to shift the weight as the raider drew a large curved sword from his belt and lifted it high.
Kotallo didn’t hesitate. He drew back his arm and hurled his spear with all his might. It struck the raider with such force in the chest that it threw him off Fareak. The Marshal twisted and looked at him in astonishment, Kotallo frozen where he stood, his arm still outstretched from the throw.
“Kotallo!” Fareak cried and he spun around to see a Carja advancing on him, sword drawn…
…and Kotallo had lost his weapon.
The red haze of battle finally took control of Kotallo and he roared and charged at the Carja who faltered, unprepared for the out of control and unarmed Tenakth. Kotallo’s attack was so unexpected that the raider forgot he had a blade and turned to run but Kotallo leapt onto him and laid into his body with his fists. When the body of the Carja finally became still and the fire was still hot in his veins, Kotallo threw himself onto the next Carja he could find and the next and the next until he could barely raise his hands anymore.
“Kotallo…Kotallo!” Jayko knelt by his side. “Kotallo!” He looked at his friend, dazed and confused. “It’s over.”
“Over…” Kotallo repeated numbly.
“It’s all over. You’ve done enough. Come…”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Kotallo blinked and looked down. The broken face of a dead raider stared up at him. Kotallo blinked again and looked at his fists. They were bloodied, the skin of his knuckles broken, and he could taste iron and salt on his lips. He staggered to his feet, stumbling backwards, unable to take his eyes off the Carja he’d killed.
“Take it easy, Kotallo…” Jayko’s voice was like an anchor for him amidst his panic. “There’s a stream nearby. Come…”
Kotallo’s legs tried to give way as he walked. Jayko did his best to support him and then Arakko and Alaika were also by his side. He fell to his knees in the stream, his body shaking violently. He scrubbed at his hands and face then closed his eyes and let out a shuddering sob.
His squad members made no comment and he joined them in sitting on the bank, in shock over what they had endured. Thankfully no one had been seriously wounded although Alaika was limping but that was because she’d put her put into a rabbit hole and twisted her ankle only minutes into the fight.
“Not really the kind of thing I want inked on my skin to remember.” She muttered softly.
“I banged my head before I even made it out from underneath where we were hiding.” Kotallo confided.
“I may have punched a fellow Tenakth by accident…cause I couldn’t tell who was my enemy when I was in the heat of it.” Arakko admitted.
“Pretty sure I nearly soiled myself.” Jayko sighed.
Kotallo blinked. “I killed…several times.”
“So did I.”
“Me too.”
“One for certain and three will probably did from the wounds I gave them.”
Kotallo’s heart was heavy. “I don’t want their numbers inked on my skin either.”
“There you are,” Fareak approached their position, waving them down to sit as he walked painfully, leaning heavily on a spear, “Orphan Squad of the Sky Clan…you’re not just soldiers in name only…but in deed.”
Kotallo wished he felt prouder. All he felt was ill.
“Any wounds need tending?”
“Alaika’s ankle needs strapping…ow!” Jayko glared at her.
“We’re uninjured barring a few bumps and bruises.” Arakko insisted.
“I’m glad to hear it. The entire offensive was a success. Only a few Carja remain and those that do will be taken to the Lowland Clan prison.” They heard Regalla swear and curse. Fareak sighed. “Not all are happy about Hekarro’s decision…but it is the Chief’s prerogative.”
“Will you go with them, sir?”
“Not with these ribs.” Fareak admitted. “I’ll have to recover for a few days before I can even attempt to travel lest I pierce an internal organ with a broken rib. And even then, I’ll be heading towards Utaru territory, making camp at Cinnabar Sands.”
“Why?”
“We only dealt with the southern raiding party. Undoubtedly there will be another to the north.”
“You’re going to take on an entire war party on your own?”
“Hopefully not,” Fareak looked at them pointedly, “there are some soldiers I wouldn’t mind fighting alongside me…if they can stomach it?”
They were quiet for a time, each contemplating what they were feeling.
“I can’t go home,” Kotallo murmured, “not like this…not anymore…not until I figure out…who I am now.”
“I feel the same way,” Arakko swallowed, “I thought shedding blood and taking a life would help define who I am…but I know less now than I did.”
Alaika looked at Jayko who nodded. “It looks as though Orphan Squad are with you, Marshal.”
“For that I am glad.” Fareak cleared his throat. “Kotallo…you left your spear on the field of battle.” He tossed it to Kotallo who caught it. “Another foot lower and you would have impaled me instead of that brute. I’m glad your aim is so accurate.”
“Thank you, sir.” Kotallo frowned as Fareak shook his head. “Sir?”
“That blow…you know you ran him through, even piercing the armour on his back…I’ve rarely seen anyone throw with such might before. You could kill a machine with one blow with that kind of strength.”
Kotallo nodded. “I…thank you, sir.”
“Allow us to help you back to camp.” Arakko stood with Alaika and they supported the wounded Marshal to where he could rest.
Kotallo eyed his spear, crusted with dried blood.
“It was you, wasn’t it?” He turned to Jayko who stared at him. “You’re the one who killed that Stalker with just one strike.”
Kotallo couldn’t lie to his friend. “I am.”
“Then why the hell didn’t you say anything?” Jayko punched his arm. “You could have gone down in Sky Clan history as the first to slay a Stalker!”
“I wasn’t the first to slay a Stalker,” Kotallo hissed, “Olenka was and I only killed the second because it was going to attack her.”
“I still don’t get why you didn’t…”
“Because only a minute after I drove my spear into its skull, I drove my other spear into Olenka’s body!”
Jayko stared at him. “You attacked Olenka with a second…oh…”
Kotallo glared at him. “Get it now?”
“Ah…yes.” Jayko winced. “Sorry…” They walked from the stream back to the Tenakth camp which they no longer needed to hide. “Thanks for the vivid image by the way. Ugh…I’m gonna have trouble getting that out of my head.”
Kotallo shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips.
It seemed strange to be smiling after the violence of an hour before.
But a lot of Tenakth were a great deal safer now that the southern raiding party had been gutted.
Perhaps, just perhaps, he could be a warrior after all.
Learning the ways of a warrior alongside Marshal Fareak was the best thing that could have happened to Orphan Squad. Though he insisted any of the Marshals would have been excellent teachers, he understood the youth’s ignorance of any ways other than those of the Sky Clan. They knew nothing about desert, about water conservation and their battlefield experience was limited to what was now known as the Battle of the Burning Blooms.
Once Fareak had healed enough to travel, he took several squads of young soldiers, who were as inexperienced as Orphan Squad and led them north, along a winding path, around a mountain lake where Snapmaws swam, and a strange shrine was built with a machine made out of sticks and vines at its centre.
“What is it?” Jayko asked the question they all wanted to know the answer of.
“Plowhorn. They till the soil and keep the Utaru in endless supply of food.”
“The machines do the hard work for them?” A Lowland Clan soldier snorted. “No wonder the Carja have stolen so many of their people.”
“The Carja do not choose easy or difficult targets. They take whoever they can and prey just as mercilessly on Tenakth as they do Utaru.” Fareak said sternly. “Come, we must leave these mountains before dark and descend onto the Cinnabar Sands.”
Another Tallneck marched not far from where they made camp.
And for the next two years, Kotallo and the other members of Orphan Squad, called their scratch in the earth home. They visited Arrowhand on occasion and even traded with the white painted, leaf clad Utaru for food but for the most part, they were itinerant warriors, following Fareak’s direction and learning from his extensive experience.
And he was the master of the silent kill.
“When the enemy out numbers you, you cannot rely on strength alone. Some of you must learn to put your pride aside and undermine the strength of the Carja before taking them head on.” Fareak explained.
They would lie in wait, studying the paths and routes of the Carja war parties and patrols, attacking violently and leaving no survivors. When the Carja finally wised up to their tactics and began to vary their routes, Alaika concocted a scheme where the Tenakth would set their ambush and two of their people would get the Carja’s attention, fleeing for their lives and bringing their enemy within reach of their blades.
After a year of Fareak’s training, Orphan Squad were no longer the gangling youths straight from the March of the Ten. They were muscular warriors, bearing scars of victories and inking of deeds they could be proud of. The terror they had once experienced at the Battle of the Burning Blooms had long since ebbed. They were accustomed to battle, to death and to the oozing red of the kill. They fought together, back to back, strong and deadly. Not many of the original soldiers were still with them. Some had fallen in battle and others had been redirected south.
But Orphan Squad remained.
And after several months, Fareak put Arakko in charge and bade them farewell.
“I must return to the Grove and my responsibilities. If and when I am given leave, I will come, expecting to hear how you held ground against the Carja.”
“By the Wings of the Ten, we will make you proud.” Arakko banged his chest and the others did the same.
“I know you will. Fight with honour…and look after each other.”
Arakko was a good leader and more importantly, he was a good listener. Alaika was an excellent strategist and Kotallo and Jayko did whatever was necessary to make her plans a success as Arakko led them into the fray, making decisions as to when to stay and fight and when to retreat.
Kotallo was proud to note that the amount of times they had to retreat could be counted on just one hand.
“Where do the Carja keep coming from?” Jayko moaned one day, dipping his hands into a stream and splashing his face. “I’ve killed hundreds by now and they just keep coming.”
Alaika snorted. “Hundreds? Please…you just finish off the ones that would die from the wounds Kotallo gave them.”
“Oh so you’ve been watching me all this time? I’m flattered.”
“Watching to make sure you don’t get any of us killed.”
“Oh…my heart!”
Kotallo smiled at their antics, sharpening his spear. He had replaced his old one with a new, much stronger and deadly spear and with each kill he made with it, he marked it.
It was almost completely covered in marks.
“Orphan Squad, listen up,” Arakko called and they hastened to the fire, “we seem to be dissuading the Carja from Cinnabar Sands but I’d like to push further towards Barren Light,” he flattened the dirt out and used a stick to draw a rough map of the land, “here where No Man’s Land runs up into Utaru territory.”
He held the stick out to Alaika who improved the map. “There’s a river and there are cliffs…if the Carja are still raiding the Utaru, they must be sticking closely to the land between those two.”
“It wouldn’t be difficult to plant an ambush, several of them, in fact, in such a narrow place.” Jayko remarked.
“We don’t know the land well enough to truly plan our attack. We should scout the position and let Alaika do her thing.”
The next day they slung their belongings onto their backs and, skirting the edge of Utaru land, headed east. Jayko nudged Kotallo and pointed to the strange dishes that the Utaru made their homes atop, Plainsong being the largest cluster of them and had bridges and walkways between them.
“I can’t imagine what possessed them to live somewhere like that…or even what it took to make it their home.”
“Fareak said they are not native to this part of the land.” Kotallo recalled one of the Marshal’s many stories. “They came from the east.”
“Like the Carja?”
“He said they climbed over the mountains.”
Jayko whistled. “Those are as high as the Sheerside Mountains. Utaru these days might be fat and lazy but back then, they were as tough as Sky Clan Tenakth.”
They reached the river and crossed it, seeing just how narrow the land was that the Carja must have been using to infiltrate the Utaru’s territory.
“Tracks,” Arakko muttered, pointing at the ground, “they’re recent…and they’re not even trying to hide their numbers.”
“Which way should we follow them? South or north?” Jayko asked.
“I don’t want to go south. It’s precariously close to Barren Light and their archers are sharp shooters. I’m not losing any of my squad to a lucky arrow.” Arakko muttered. “We’ll go north and see if we can find a place to hide.”
The trees thickened and the ground became covered in rich, green grass. Kotallo couldn’t resist running his fingers over the tops of the blades. It was different to the land the Grove was in. Here, the air was crisp and fresh not thick and humid. The ground had grass and was not covered in crawling creepers and large leafy bushes and the trees were not draped with vines, sunlight sparkling through the leaves.
“I love the view from the Bulwark,” Kotallo whispered, “but this place…”
“Down.” Alaika hissed and without questioning it or looking for what had alarmed her, Kotallo dropped behind a rock. He peered out and saw her pointing ahead. “Carja.” She mouthed and Kotallo’s jaw firmed and he eased his spear from its holster. His body was tense, not with fear but with anticipation. He was no longer afraid of battle but merely afraid of missing out.
He was ready to launch himself onto the raiding party that was coming towards them, dragging Utaru prisoners, roped together, children sobbing pitifully, terrified of their Carja enslavers.
Neither Arakko or Alaika had given the signal to attack. The raiding party was passing him. Kotallo had an excellent shot at taking out the heavily armoured leader. He didn’t know what was going on but he was going to take the lead when a small pebble struck him and he looked up. Jayko was in a tree, nimble and light, taking advantage of a deadly downward strike whenever he could. He shook his head at Kotallo who frowned. Jayko gestured for him to wait.
Kotallo did so…as a volley of arrows filled their air, silently rising then gliding down, sinking deeply into the raiders.
Arakko’s war cry was nearly drowned out in another’s shout to attack. Kotallo launched himself at the Carja closest to him and ran him through.
“Kill the prisoners!” He heard the leader order before gurgling, choking on his own blood. Jayko looked up from the kill at Kotallo and they both nodded, lunging for the prisoners. The Carja were so despicable that they would prefer the prisoners killed than being returned home as proof of Carja defeat. Kotallo wouldn’t let them. He and Jayko slashed through their bonds, urging the prisoners to run for cover. One little girl was in hysterics, no older than Kotallo had been when his parents had been killed. She couldn’t move she was so frightened. He grasped her around the waist and grabbed a boy’s hand, hauling them out of the battle fray.
“Stay here,” he ordered, setting them down behind a rock, “stay quiet.”
They nodded and he stood and turned to see a raider behind him, bloodied and snarling with pleasure at having caught Kotallo unaware. Kotallo knew it was too late to arm himself. All he could do was stand in front of the children and keep the Carja from reaching them.
Then an arrow whizzed past his ear so close he felt the brush of feathers before the sharpened tip embedded itself in the Carja’s throat. He dropped like a stone. Kotallo spun around to see a Utaru maiden, clad in leaves and woven armour, her dark skin painted with white marks that looked like leaves and her eyes filled with surprise, her fingers trembling on her bow.
He immediately recognised her expression for he had worn it once before.
She had never taken a life until now…
“Good shot.” Kotallo blurted. She shivered and he paused. “Take care of the children.”
She nodded and he turned back to the battle which was all but over. A few remaining Carja escaped but the rest lay on the ground and all the prisoners were safe. Though Orphan Squad had played a part in their rescue, the Utaru shied away from them, frightened and understandably so. Arakko didn’t push the connection, simply bowing to the Utaru archers who had been lying in wait with such perfect camouflage that even they had not been able to see them.
“Not so fat and lazy after all.” Alaika remarked as they watched the Utaru gather the prisoners together to take them back to Plainsong. The woman who had saved Kotallo’s life glanced at them, her hands resting on the shoulders of the children he had placed in her care. She gave a small smile and nodded. Kotallo returned the nod then they left the area.
“I think the Utaru can handle themselves better than we realised.” Arakko mused.
“Their clothing certainly allowed them to blend perfectly with their surroundings.”
“And their aim is deadly.” Kotallo added.
“We’ll leave this stretch of land to them.” Arakko decided. “Come on, let’s head back to Cinnabar Sands.”
“Oh good…more desert.”