The Lord of the Plains

by Sarah Chapman

Chapter 62

  Her team of highly trained bullies, as Aerlid had so succinctly put it, were ready. It was time to put her plan into action.

  Riley had nothing to do with the plan, not really. For it to be most effective she had to step back. And so she did.

  While most of the tribe slept, Riley waited and watched. She spotted the small, dark shapes moving through the night. She heard muffled grunts and growls.

  And she waited.

  Suddenly the secrecy was discarded. Shapes sprung up from the darkness and began tearing the tents down. Fires were stoked and lit, sending wild sprays of light across the scene.

  When Riley finally saw how effective they’d been she didn’t feel pleasure or relief, just a kind of stunned emptiness. A team of children had just tied up and disabled every adult gemeng in the tribe. The tents were down and the fires were lit so those same adults could look and see what had befallen each other.

  How could such people ever be a threat to the humans? They may be violent and have the advantage in sheer strength, but they fought entirely alone and had no sense of strategy or even plain simple discretion. The humans would have spotted them coming before they got anywhere near Astar, with their wild hoots and yells. With the humans teamwork and coordination and energy weapons they would surely have made quick work of any gemeng invasion.

  And through her shock she could not share in the elation of her recruits.

  The children danced and yelled and whooped. All of them had participated. Riley had made sure to include important roles for the weaker children, those who would not have survived the Warrior’s Trial.

  Finally, Riley snapped out of it. There was more to do.

  Putting on a face appropriate to the accomplishment, Riley made her way over to the children.

  They quickly fell quiet and got into a rough semicircle in front of her.

  ‘Tonight you have bested the warriors of this tribe. You have proved yourself worthy of joining their ranks and taking your names. Take them!’

  And the children called out the names they had chosen for themselves.

  ‘Dogra the Strong!’

  ‘Egrash Quickfoot!’

  ‘Mulag the Fierce!’

  And so on, the savage, proud yells echoing out into the darkness of the plains.

  ‘They didn’t undergo the Warrior’s Trial.’ Gakra was complaining.

  Morning had come and everyone was untied.

  ‘They defeated warriors. Tell me, what is the Warrior’s Trial about if that is not it?’ Riley asked calmly.

  ‘They didn’t kill anyone! They have no trophies.’ But he said this without much fervour. After all, she was right. The Warrior’s Trial was a simple affair. Once the children reached a certain age they went out into the plains and killed the warrior of a neighbouring tribe. Either they came back with a trophy or they didn’t come back at all.

  At this moment Riley did not feel like reminding Gakra she was the leader now. If they felt comfortable voicing disagreement without calling her names or threatening to kill anyone, well, it was all to the good.

  ‘Now,’ she turned to the rest of the tribe, her voice carrying easily out to those at the edges of the crowd. ‘You are all ashamed. So am I. Again and again you prove to me you are not warriors. I intend to train you like I have trained your children. They will be your example. If you learn to be half as good as them you’ll be halfway to getting your honour back.’

  And then… then they would deal with the other tribes.