Peacemaker let out a weak laugh without looking up at them, his body still slumped over. “You undid too much of my work,” he admitted. “And I, in turn, allowed myself to grow desperate even though I knew it would destroy me in the end.”
His disguise was gone, leaving him as a human-shaped outline of sinew, along with the odd, motionless liquid that filled him. The same form he had shown Colibrí before, but this time most of Peacemaker’s body appeared withered and chipped. Violet streaks cut across the gray like fouled arteries and veins and spread even as she watched.
Colibrí snorted and used her borrowed spear to lift Peacemaker’s chin. Her eyes narrowed. “And it still earned you nothing. You’ve lost, Peacemaker.”
“You should have guessed by now that victory was never my goal,” he replied, and there was a tiredness to his voice. He raised an arm to gesture behind them. “I had hoped to maybe see the Guardian slain, but all I truly needed was time. Do you know why there are so few halja here? It’s because they’re killing your wardens and sproutlings as we speak.”
No one spoke or moved.
Then Colibrí growled and fought to keep herself from screeching and plunging her spear through his chest. “You’re lying.”
Peacemaker slowly shrugged. “Your warmaster can’t afford to assume I am bluffing, so he will send the warbands back anyway.” Peacemaker slumped down further. “The horror that awaits you will burden both your spirits and your spears. It will also end your advance across the rest of the forest, for a time.”
“We know your gardens are out there,” Colibrí shot back, but her thoughts were already surging elsewhere and her heart was racing. “And we know how to find them. It’s only a matter of time.”
“My brethren will resume their plans for war now that I have failed. This time, you won’t find those gardens protected merely by secrecy and a handful of halja.” Peacemaker hesitated. “My own mother so very long ago used to say that for a lesson to be learned it must first be taught. Go see what remains of your villages. Struggle uselessly to unmake the rest of my gardens.” His body slowly began to crumble into dust and he let out a long, hissing breath. “Maybe then you’ll understand the cold, hard truth we have become.”
With those words, Peacemaker died.
Or whatever happened to halja. Colibrí frowned, her chest heavy. She should have felt joy, the thrill of survival and victory, the honor of overcoming a great challenge. Instead she felt barely more than a halja herself—no, that wasn’t true. She wasn’t empty, because there was plenty of fear, worry, and frustration churning inside of her.
“Jhul,” she said, whirling to the warmaster, and he nodded.
“We’ll leave the wounded and enough warbands to ward the safeholds and then return to our cacica’s side. The rest will head to the other villages. Runners!”
“I will isolate you from your pain and exhaustion and keep predators away, but you must shelter yourselves from your fears and worries,” the Guardian said, surging across the tree-lords above them. They all looked up at her and one of her eyes panned down across them. “Peacemaker has already underestimated the Islandborn once—believe in your cacica and wardens.”
With that, they went to do what warriors were shaped to do.
Chapter 32
Narune stood with the others at the war tower and found he had nothing to say. The skies were still gray and dark, spilling down rain heavily enough to obscure the view. The coral lanterns scattered across Kayuya Village made things a little better, but not by much, and what they did see were the weavings of shadow into nightmare.
Swarms of halja oozed from the forest line, a few at first, but there were more and more coming with every heartbeat and the swarm was slowly growing thicker. Sentinels were already firing volleys and engaging the leading waves with spears.
Other sentinels ran through the village to give instructions to the Islandborn pouring out of their bohíos. The cacica’s sentinels planned to evacuate the wardens, choosing flight over a riskier fight, and would remain behind to ensure it went smoothly. Cacica Yabisi gave no commands, yet as Narune watched, she bit her lip and stared hard at the approaching halja.
Their arrival birthed a lot of questions, but none they could easily find answers to, and they all knew it.
“Gather everyone at my caney. Tell them to bring only food and weapons,” the cacica finally said, nodding to the village’s sentinels that flanked her personal ones, and they thudded their chests.
But before they could leave, a conch sounded, coral lanterns were shuttered and then differently colored lanterns were lit to the south. They all turned as one and saw a spiritseer stumbling along the turbulent beach. The spiritseer’s Flowing Blade slumbered, and they walked as if exhausted; Narune couldn’t make out the colors on the torn poncho.
Narune’s heart caught, but then sentinels rushed out from the borders of the village before anyone even needed to give a command.
“Come,” the cacica said and they all scrambled to follow her down from the war tower—him, Sanemoro, Kisari, Tessouat, Ixchel, and all the other novices.
The spiritseer was on his knees, gasping, when they arrived at the southern limits of the village. Narune saw now that he was a spiritseer of the Unseen Flow, but red streaks marred the violet on his poncho. Sentinels fought the halja that had chased after him, and with a glance Narune saw there were already more approaching from down the beach. More conchs sounded, and lights again changed on the far war towers—halja sighted to the north.
“They’re crossing the root-bridges,” Cacica Yabisi said to wounded spiritseer, her voice loud to be over the roar of rain and thunder. It took Narune a moment to realize it wasn’t a question.
The spiritseer froze, his breath stilled, and he glanced up at her. Then he collected himself and knelt properly. “Yes.” He paused, thoughts flitting across his face. Blood dripped down onto the already wet tiles and he continued to sag. “Halja are attacking Yaruma Village. I was sent to deliver a message, but I see now that Kayuya is also being attacked. If so, then most, if not all, of the other villages are also likely besieged.”
Menders were already rushing toward him. The Verdant Flow novices in their group awakened their Blades and stepped forward to offer their own sorcery.
“Give me the message,” the cacica said, her hand reaching out.
“No,” the spiritseer adept responded, surprising them all. He rose, stared down at the bound leaves he had risked his life to deliver, and then threw them into the wind, toward the sea. “The tribal elders would never want you to worry over them while fangs reach for your own throat.” He returned to a kneel. “Punish me as you wish, but if I may be so bold as to make a suggestion, then I would gladly die defending Kayuya. ”
Yabisi sighed, but she turned away from the spiritseer and let her menders and the novices tend to him. She stared at Sanemoro and Tessouat.
“The sages are bringing the remaining novices from the shrine,” Tessouat said. “They’ll arrive at the village’s center shortly.”
Sanemoro nodded. “The halja are still thin in number for now, but there seems to be no end to them. If we wait, we risk them pooling across our line of spears and then it will be too late to leave.”
“We should attempt to cut through to another village and join our forces once the shrine is emptied,” Tessouat suggested.
“There’s no way to know which villages are already gone, or where the halja are already thick,” Cacica Yabisi replied with a huff. She glanced over at the wounded spiritseer. “I suspect that by now the beaches and root-bridges are swarming with them, and I doubt the forest is any better. I wonder what became of the warbands.”
Narune’s tail froze and the others stiffened. None of them spoke… until Narune broke the silence.
“This has to be Peacemaker’s work,” Narune said, his voice low. Everyone looked at him, and he balked for a moment. “Well, he’s done something similar before—my mother and I ran into halja that were releas
ed out of nowhere, a trap. Maybe Peacemaker hid these halja with the intent to make them his most vicious bite; if the villages are destroyed, then the warriors will have nothing to return to.”
“Well,” the cacica said. “It might work.”
Narune shook his head, ears flattening, and he held himself back from licking his lips. Speak your mind; you know you’re right. It’s not just because… you’re afraid of being left behind. “This isn’t the Primordial Wound, so there can only be so many halja. We don’t have to slay them all, only survive.”
“The only victory that matters,” Ixchel muttered in agreement. “Well, we’re just novices, but we’re still spiritseers.”
The cacica eyed them with heavy eyelids. “Oh? And what of the wardens?”
“What about us?” Kisari snapped. “We’re wardens, Cacica. True, we may not be as great at war as warriors, but our whole reason for existing is to make sure the warriors have somewhere and someone to come back to. If they can endure the forest and Wound for us, then we can endure this for them.”
Kisari seemed to realize who she was speaking to just as she finished, and hurriedly muttered an apology while tugging on the vines in her hair.
Cacica Yabisi laughed however and then nodded. “True, brave words, but they might lose their luster after you see the field of corpses they’ll leave behind. And that’s if we win.”
Narune shrugged. “It’s better than risking everything on flight, Cacica.” He hesitated, debating with himself, then finally gave up and added, “Besides, I don’t have a choice. I have to stay and fight.”
Everyone turned to him again and Ixchel and Kisari gave him worried looks.
“What do you mean?” Sanemoro asked him.
“My mother compelled me before she left,” he said hesitantly. “She told me to stay and protect the village…”
“What happens if we try to force you to come?” Cacica Yabisi asked.
It was Kisari who answered. “We become panicked and frantic.” She shrugged. “It’s… not a pretty sight.”
The cacica scowled. “Helping either of you lose control is the exact opposite of what I’d like right now.” She rubbed her face, and in a softer voice, “Seas aflame, Colibrí.”
Narune watched her eye him, and he knew what she was thinking. He decided to say the words himself. “You could leave here.”
“We could,” Cacica Yabisi said evenly. “Especially since staying will mean trapping wardens between you and the halja if you go wild.” She paused, then asked, “How does your mother’s compulsion work with this Jurakán of yours?”
“I don’t know,” Narune admitted.
“And it doesn’t matter! We should stay and fight!” Ixchel thumped him on the shoulder, then glanced over at the cacica. “You want to see if Halfborn warriors like Narune and Colibrí can become a spearhead, eh? Well, here he is. Now it’s our turn to choose—leave him behind or complete the spear.”
The cacica looked less than convinced as she glanced over at Tessouat. The adept spiritseer bowed.
“Sentinels are falling while we discuss this, Cacica,” Tessouat said. “Flight is a worthy answer at times, but we’re already cornered against the rock.”
Narune shook his head, heart thudding, and bowed. “Apologies, but I don’t believe you should stay, Elder.”
Tessouat’s eyebrows raised.
“If I may say so, I feel that it’ll be wiser for you to go west toward the warbands. You’re the most skilled among us and can move quickly with the Unbound Flow. If you can reach the warmaster and tell him what’s happening, then it’ll be another scrap of hope on a very barren bone. Either way, no matter what happens, we need them back as soon as possible.”
Tessouat and the cacica glanced at each other, and then the spiritseer elder sighed and bowed. “Wise words, as much as I hate to admit it. Cacica?”
“Go,” she said to him. “Now. If nothing else, this will ensure one of our greatest spiritseers is left alive to join our warriors.”
Tessouat frowned at that, but he bowed at the waist and then stepped forward. Crystalline spheres of water burst from the rain around them, and his natural step took him atop of one. A heartbeat later, he was surfing across the sky, toward the west, his cerulean Blade ablaze in the gloom and his thick warrior braid flapping behind them.
Cacica Yabisi turned to the injured spiritseer adept, who watched without expression. “You will take command of the novices. Let’s see what we can do about bolstering our defenses.”
They all turned and went to the village’s center where huddled and confused wardens waited by her caney. They straightened at seeing her, and it took only a few words before their eyes narrowed and they bowed in understanding, then went to do the cacica’s will. The centermost bohío and caney, including the cacica’s own, were torn down in heartbeats. These materials and anything else deemed useful where then brought to the edges of the villages where the sentinels continued to hold.
For the moment, the sentinels were enough. The halja were unorganized, and the first through had been lesser halja, all of them like familiar beasts. Greater halja moved behind them with a slower, more careless apathy; only specific breeds like Empty Fury and Victory tended to be exceptions, but even then, only when they found prey.
These halja careened into the war towers that had become a border made of will and wrath. Arrows fired down without end and spears waited between them to meet the charging Empty Boars and leaping Empty Monkeys at the head of the swarms.
Some wardens joined the sentinels, especially those who had some skill with bows, but Narune saw that most of the wardens had been employed to create additional defenses. They sharpened wood into spikes so they could be bound together into deadly barricades. Coral lanterns were everywhere, illuminating the gloom—it was midday, but the skies continued to darken everything with a heavy downpour of rain. Everything and everyone were soaked, but no one seemed to notice.
Narune and the other novices huddled together at the center of the village’s western edge, which, because it was the side closest to the forest, was where most of the war towers were clustered. There they waited and ate rations slowly, because resting and eating ahead of the need was the wise thing to do. Narune knew that, so he swallowed down the lumps even though he didn’t have much of an appetite.
They were being saved until things became worse, and it was agonizing. Narune closed his eyes briefly, but reopened them when someone stepped close.
It was a spiritseer of the Verdant Flow, her Blade awakened and held loosely in a hand. She bowed to him and he stuffed the rest of his hard lump of maize, nuts, fruit, and honey into his mouth. The spiritseer passed her Blade across him, as if skinning the earnings of a hunt. Most of his injuries stopped bleeding, but he knew it was like menders and their gut-threading—they’d reopen easily if he wasn’t careful. The rest of the spiritseer’s work just warded against rot or made things hurt less.
The rush of energy and wakefulness was real, though—probably what warriors adored about Greenflow users the most.
As far as Narune knew, the Verdant Flow was good at keeping things alive in the shorter term, but the worst wounds required constant attention. Greenflow spiritseers were best at helping their comrades last just long enough to return to the care of true menders, and they also supported the more complex work of their people’s healers.
The novice looked exhausted when she finished with him, but moved on to another.
Narune continued waiting.
It was always the hardest thing a warrior had to do. His mother seemed to hate it just as much as he did, and she had always joked that too much of a warrior’s life was hurrying to wait. The day grew old, then finally ended. The gloom became true darkness, and the rain didn’t stop. There were only a few moons left in the Cycle of Storms, and this was the time when they were most likely to appear.
Sanemoro came every so often to check on them. Sages were technically wardens, though they were precious enough th
at they were often seen a bit differently. Despite that, Sanemoro worked as much as the other wardens, and whenever he took a break, he came to tell the novices stories. It was obvious that the others were accustomed to this, which made Narune feel a pang of jealousy.
Kisari came every so often too, but she spent most of her time with her mothers while she could, and even Ixchel’s fathers came to see her. They were both crafters, one of weapons and the other of trinkets, tools, and other things. This time they both had spears and they fussed over their daughter, much to her embarrassment, which was as poorly hidden as her delight. The two of them spent several notches speaking quietly with Ixchel, then went to join the other wardens.
Ixchel stared at their backs as if she wanted to throw her Blade down and run after them.
“You should think of them more often, after this,” Narune said to her, knowing Ixchel well enough to guess that she had drowned herself in her training after becoming a spiritseer. Narune didn’t know her fathers well, but the fact that they had visited her as if no time had passed between them told Narune a great deal.
Ixchel’s muscles tightened for a moment, having always hated being told what to do or think, but then the tension fled from her and she slumped. “Yes. I’ve been as terrible a daughter as I’ve been a friend, but neither you or my fathers seem willing to hate me for it.”
Narune squeezed her shoulder.
Kisari came from helping the other wardens the first night and huddled between him and Ixchel. They slept fitfully, and woke to another gray and dreary morning, the wind blowing and the rain still whipping against their faces. Conchs continued to sound and the snap of bows had become routine.
Narune stretched and went to piss. After he finished, he glanced up at the central war towers where Yabisi spent her time with her sentinels, watching.
As the second day passed, outright panic became grim hope, but hope nonetheless. It was still bizarre that so many halja continued to pour from the forest, and they were losing sentinels to that endless swarm, but the halja were still mostly beasts. Whenever a greater halja did appear, Narune and the other novices dealt with it quickly. The disaster they had seen in their heads remained trapped there where it was harmless.
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