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=== [CHAPTER 7: C A N A U C R I S I S ] ===
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Otaes and Temetet made the return flight back home with haste. Powerful wings from Archer pushed them through the skies, across the Kiote border, and back into their home territory. The ongoing battle between the Avonians and the strangers was to their backs, their homes ahead.
It was a short flight over the dense jungle, wetlands, and sunbaked hills of the Kiote Peninsula. And although Otaes knew it was unlikely that they would get intercepted by the Avonian air defense – if even impossible – she pushed Archer to fly close to the ground. Close enough that his talons were only mere inches away from the crowns of trees below. And yet, she felt as if she wasn’t being cautious enough.
Avonian radar usually couldn’t, or wouldn’t, track a griffon. The creatures existed in the wild untamed, and sending multi-million credit missiles to make a wild animal explode was overkill – even for the Imperials. Yet, she couldn’t be certain. If Avonian radar managed to track onto her, they’d likely investigate to know for sure. The last thing she needed was a squadron of dragons dispatched to intercept them.
While the Avonians lacked the bleeding edge fighter jets that the Ostralanders had a monopoly on, their air defenses more than made up for it. Enough that they gave the infamous jets of the Ostralander and Oceanian air forces a run for their money. She’d seen too many careless griffon riders being torn apart by dragons.
Her mother – The Mirage – was shot down over the skies of the Kiote Peninsula close to the Republican border, though that was during the opening stages of the Sacred War. Intercepted by an elite squadron of Imperial dragons and torn to shreds, so the story went. Otaes truly had a hard time believing that legend to be true. The legendary Mirage would’ve known better than to let herself get cornered by dragons. She and her griffon, silver, were so quick that the only thing one could see of them were the afterimages. Hence the prestigious name, The Mirage.
Looking upwards towards the sky, dark blue and vast, she could almost believe that The Mirage was still there. Flying. Otaes could only wonder what she’d think of her daughter now. Flying a recon mission over the very same skies that were her grave.
The conflict in Canau was a signal of worse things to come on the peninsula, a region already tainted by the memories of war. There had been far too many lives lost, far too many bombs dropped, and far too many unpleasant memories. Enough to last ten lifetimes. Even though the wounds had not even come close to scabbing, the drums of war beat loud once more in Canau. Whatever was going on in that sleepy seaside city was grim news for the whole peninsula, and perhaps even the world.
After an hour of flying, the mountains and plateau of the central peninsula were finally in view of the trio, and shielded underneath it, the capital of the Warrior Elves.
Raritan.
The elven city was covered in vegetation from the skies. River rapids and white streams from the mountains cut Raritan into segments that were crisscrossed by bridges, built over in some parts, and left to collect into one large river. The Raritan itself. The source of the Warrior Elf people. The cradle of Elven souls. So, the myths went anyway.
As they approached the city, flying over its bustling streets full of ox-driven carts, merchant stalls, and mud-brick homes, their focus centered on a single massive building at the center of it all. Built over where the four streams of the Raritan meet, and right in the center of the city proper, was the Elven Palace. A giant, glistening, structure that in some parts resembled a temple, and in other parts a castle. White stone walls, a giant glass dome, green vegetation planted all around.
From the roof of the structure, other Griffons were taking off with several other Kitchi warriors being sent off on missions throughout the jungle. It didn’t take long until Archer spread his wings open, and landed on the roof of the palace, amidst dozens of other griffons and warriors.
“Otaes!” Another Kitchi warrior flagged her down. The elf was quite tall with a muscular build. His sand-colored tunic was ripped at the sleeves, showing off his large arms that he seemed to always want to flex at every opportunity. Pakena’s Kitchi mask was a crimson red, all over, with only white paint surrounding the slits for his eyes. Behind the mask, his glowing blue eyes narrowed, “You’re late,” Pakena hissed.
Pak was the last elf that Otaes wanted to speak to, especially at a time like this. He was the captain of her Griffon Squadron and he loved to act like it, “It’s unbecoming for the daughter of The Mirage to be late,” Pakena said.
“I just came back from Canau, idiot.”
“I know, and while you were there, a tiny little situation just exploded here in Raritan. Chief Ani wants you,” Pakena said to her as he clambered over to his griffon whose feathers were a equally as red as Pakena’s mask, “Warriors from Ximac to Manaháhtaa are being scrambled as we speak!”
“Why?” She asked, as she and Temetet disembarked from Archer’s back.
“That mess you were tasked with scouting out in Canau suddenly just became a full-blown war,” Pakena grabbed the reins of his griffon as he settled into the saddle, “Chief Ani still see’s some use in what you can provide, somehow. Though I doubt it.”
“I’ve kept my skills sharp. Luckily for you, strength is all you needed to be a Kitchi. You certainly don’t have much going on in the mental department.”
Pakena tutted, ignoring her comment. It was another usual sparring match between the two, one they often engaged in even despite the current dire circumstances. Before Pakena flew off, his eyes landed on Temetet, “I see you’ve brought the runt with you. Are you using him as bait or as a body shield? We both know that when the war starts again that’ll be all he’s good for-“
“Watch it Pak, my Kitchi vow prevents me from stabbing you. But if you go after my brother, you’ll be easy prey.”
“I’ll bury you one of these days Otaes, with the stars as my witness. You’re already half-blind in one eye. I’ll do you a favor and give you a scar on the other too… And I’ll have the runt watch as I do it,” Pakena twisted the reins, “Hya!” and with a mighty flap of the griffon’s wings, Pakena was up in the skies rushing to catch up with the other Warriors who’d already taken off. Otaes kept her eyes on both him and his griffon as they darted across the deep blue skies. She sighed, subconsciously moving a hand to trace the red streak of paint that marked the surface of her mask along her left eye.
“Don’t listen to him, Tem,” She said, both to him and to herself, noticing how silent Temetet had become. He’d been the subject of much ridicule, not just from Pakena but from some of the other Kitchi warriors too. He was small, physically not all that strong. But he was certainly smart enough to make it. It was one of Otaes’ self-assigned duties to take some of the flak for Temetet’s shortcomings. She had to for the sake of them both, “Take Archer back home, I have business to handle here,” she said, sliding off of Archer’s back.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“What? We have business to handle here.”
“Tem, now is not the time-“
“I was there on the mission too; I saw everything you saw! I can be there as a witness, right? Confirm everything you say, I’ll be useful!”
“Tem, I don’t need you to be useful, I need you where I’m certain it’s safe. It’s an emergency, and they need Warriors.”
“I am a Warrior!”
“Not yet! And you won’t be if you keep trying to rush it! Just do what I say, take Archer back home and wait for me there!” Otaes raised her voice at her younger brother, but only slightly.
“But-“
“Go! I’ll meet you back home when everything calms down, alright?”
Temetet looked apprehensive at first, as if he had wanted to say something else. But he caved. Nodding in compliance, “Fine,” he said bluntly. He turned back to the griffon who was patiently waiting behind them, “Come on, Big Bird. Let’s go home.”
He reached a hand up to caress the side of Archer’s feathered head, which made the griffon coo in delight. She watched Archer spread his wings once more and lift off the ground into the clear skies above, she felt comforted that at least someone else was acting as Temetet’s Guardian. One concern sealed away. Now for more pressing matters.
The throne room of the Warrior Elf palace was dimmed. Seven seats lined the back of the royal chamber. And on the seven seats was a different color of cloth, each for the seven different tribes that made up the Warrior Elf Confederation. Red for the Tappa, blue for the Manatappa, yellow for the Ximac, white for the Hannawa, black for the Masapequa, and purple for the Ticonderoga. The final seat in the center was a forest green for the Raritan tribe. Its wooden design had more elegant carvings into it, the tapestry more refined. The seat of the Grand Chief of the Warrior Elf People, the elected representative of them all. And – in a strange turn of events – Otaes’ adopted mother.
Each of the chiefs filed in from the side of the room, as other Kitchi warriors stood guard at the entrances of the room. All seven of them were dressed in their tribal clothes, like royal garments, all in their respective colors that matched them to their seats. The elders all took their seats, and at the center was Grand Chief Kae Ani.
Otaes had repeated this process what must’ve been a million times, and yet the feeling of kneeling before someone who was supposed to be her adopted mother was still strange. Her biological mother never asked for such, and she was one of the greatest warriors of her time.
Behind her, onlookers filtered in to observe the normal proceedings of the tribal court. It was customary for Elven citizens to be allowed inside of the Palace to observe the issues taking place – though they were forbidden from talking. The decision making rested squarely in the hands of the six chiefs, and seventh Grand Chief, and to talk out of line as a commoner was disruptive to the decision making process as a whole.
And though they could not speak, Otaes could feel the eyes of the people on her back. Kneeling, head down, facing her “mother” and the seven chairs. She could not rise until she heard the familiar words, “This emergency council has formally assembled! All participants may rise,” Grand Chief Ani spoke. Her voice that of an elderly elf, straining through layers of age. Centuries of experience condensed into one she-elf.
Slowly, Otaes rose to her feet. She inhaled, letting her shoulders relax. She needed to remain cool, professional. And though nobody could see past her mask, she could feel their eyes burning holes straight through its painted surface.
“Warrior Otaes, you were asked to scout the disturbance near the border around Canau, correct? What did you find?”
Otaes lifted her head up as she spoke, “Imperial vehicles, Republican conscripts. They’re attacking an army of humans on the hills atop Canau. It’s war.”
The chiefs all muttered to themselves as they heard the news. Even the crowd behind Otaes began to murmur among each other, whispering rumors, hushed conversations between the observers over what it could all mean. Of course, they could never know through gossip. Not even Otaes was certain.
“And these humans, they’re Ostralanders, correct?” The red chief Zee of the Tappa asked.
“That, I do not know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know. Who else could it possibly be?” Asked Wuni, the yellow chief of the Ximac people.
“They don’t carry Ostralander flags, or their vehicles. Well, they have vehicles, but they aren’t the ones that Ostralanders use. I know that much for sure.”
“Then what country are they from, Warrior?” Zee demanded, “They have to be from somewhere!”
“I can’t say-“
“Why not?”
“I don’t know! They’re… an unknown.”
It was that line which stunned the assembly. Now, everyone was speaking. Talking. Confused. Who could it be, who possibly could’ve been the source of all of this trouble? Even Otaes did not know.
But from the center seat, Ani raised her hands. Immediately, all fell quiet. Obeying the Matriarch’s authority. She looked down at Otaes with eyes that were – although serious – gentle. She knew Otaes well, and one thing Otaes was not is careless. Details were never skimped on by her quick eyes, and quicker thinking.
“That tracks with all of the reports we’ve been receiving from the villagers near the border,” Said Ani with a sigh. Slowly she closed her eyes, sinking into her seat. She was suppressing an emotion, one greater than confusion. Fear, “These…humans… have been trading blows with the Avonians for the past five hours. There’s been gunfire across the demilitarized zone. And yet, none of our garrisons report any signs of contact. The war ended in a pro-Commonwealth ceasefire, so it’s unlikely that the Ostralands would be the ones trying to kickstart a war again.”
“Then who is it?” Asked Zee, “We need to know for certain! We cannot risk another war! It’s only been a year! We haven’t finished rebuilding! We’ll be buried!”
“Zee, I’m aware. But we can’t act without proper information. It could be a mutiny from a Republican garrison, or a secession for that matter. We don’t know. Send an emergency communique to the Commonwealth embassy, ask them if they have any knowledge of what’s going on. For now, set all Home Guardians within range of the border on full alert and assemble the Kiote Council. I’ve already dispatched the Warriors to guard the border. If there’s something brewing on the horizon, we’ll be forced onto the defensive… again.” Ani muttered, “Are we in agreement on that? All who oppose…”
Nobody said a word.
Otaes watched as Ani sighed in relief before turning to look at her, “And Otaes, please. We’ll need you back out there. I want you to help patrol our territory. Raritan is only a few miles away from Canau, and we need to make sure everything is secure. Keep an eye for intrusions and bring the intruders back here.”
“Alive?” Otaes asked.
“It’s for questioning, Otaes. Have you tried asking a dead body questions before?” Zee sarcastically quipped.
“Alive it is,” Otaes whispered underneath her mask.
Though she knew that they could not hear.
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