Vespasian nodded in understanding. “An independent North, a partner, a neighbor.”
Oberon nodded. “Trade.”
Vespasian shook his head knowingly. “I see what you offer, but it cannot be. You do not know the South.”
Oberon stared at him, fear growing in his heart that his words had been inadequate.
“The South,” continued Vespasian, “has a saying. ‘Come back with your shield – or on it.’ It means that no war king, not Theseus, not Alexander, not even Vespasian, can return to Belial without bringing another corner of the world into, what do you call it?”
“The South,” whispered Oberon.
“Yes, Men of the South are we. To you, it is South. To Galatia, the corners of the world are not north, south, east, or west. They are Galatia, or they will be soon.”
Oberon thought about the idea of conquest, of empire, from the perspective of the South for the first time. The scale of it, the idea of it, was foreign to him, and he gave a slight shudder.
“Yes,” said the Cherub, “I can see that you cannot return to such a one as Belial, you cannot return to your land and tell them that this one corner of the world is left out because you could not put down the backward tribes that live there.”
Vespasian nodded again. “So, you see. Either you are Caipora or you are Centaurs, there is no third way for, what do you call it?”
“The North,” whispered Oberon.
“That’s it. The North. You can bleed out for this land, or you can live here as subjects as the Dwarves and Giants did for hundreds of years. Reasonable?”
Oberon shook his head. “I know what life was like for the Dwarves and Giants, for the Elves, for them,” he pointed at the Caipora, “under the rule of the South. I know of the Mermen, I have killed Yeti with my own blade. I am here to tell you we are dangerous, our will is limitless, and when you realize that it would be better to lie to your king and tell him that we are concurred when we are not, I want you to remember that I am reasonable.”
Vespasian paused yet again, and Oberon could see the thoughtfulness of one in control. He knew the king did not know that his forces were being ruined at Fort Hope, that Aram had escaped, that the Caipora were dead, and that Therucilin would not keep his forces safe through the hard winter ahead. When he learns, he must know where to come.
“We shall see,” said the Man.
“We shall. Now, as to your question about our forest.”
Vespasian nodded, remembering with a slight smile and drawing his gladius sword, which he played with while he listened.
“Beyond the impassible mountains to the south of Therucilin, there lies a forest valley that is the home of the Cherubim. The forest could never be captured by Men, and if you try you will be the second to learn that what I say is true.” He paused, motioning to the Caipora who bristled at the reference to their captured comrades.
“Yes, yes,” said the King. “You captured my decoys, and you tempt me to prove you wrong.”
Oberon shook his head. “Are you reasonable, King Vespasian?”
The King pondered this for a moment. “I am at once pragmatic and at the same time dogmatic. The former is reasonable, the later, unreasonable. I would say that I am reasonable in general, but I am unreasonably committed to pacifying this land.”
“So that you may return to the South with your shield.”
Vespasian nodded, smiling. “It is a wondrous place.”
“Perhaps,” nodded Oberon. “And perhaps the pragmatic side of you can be convinced that the dogmatic side of you will have a better chance of success if you allow me, a reasonable and dangerous war chief, to take my leave?”
The King rose, looking down at the Cherub once again as he sat back into his throne. “Are you threatening me with a less reasonable replacement if I do not allow you to leave?”
Oberon got to his feet, preparing to fly towards the throne. “That is precisely my meaning.”
“Then, yes, take your leave, and take the message to your people that there will be no third way for them.”
Oberon jumped from the table flew towards the throne, prompting the two Caipora there to press their tailblades into his throat and chest so that they began to draw blood as he leaned in. The blood dripped down onto the skulls and Vespasian looked up at the Cherub in surprise.
“I will take your message if you will remember, when the time comes, that I am both dangerous and reasonable and that perhaps it would be better to pretend we are conquered than to actually conquer this land.”
He didn’t wait for a reply, but instead spun slowly enough that the Caipora did not feel threatened. The spin took him around their blades, behind the throne. He waited for the attack, for the word, that would stop him as his trembling hands worked to remove the bar across the window. Time seemed to stand still as he tried to remember what he had said, and why, and if he was truly being allowed to leave alive. After an eternity, he worked the bar free and it fell to the floor as the blasting wind forced the thick wooden barricade open. He did not look back as he jumped up onto the sill and furled his wings, allowing the storm to suck him into the swirling black vortex that was the North.
Chapter 22
S age awoke to the sight of Andrika’s freckled face. The Cherub was shaking her shoulder gently to wake her for the final watch and the Nymph could see the Plainswatcher’s Mohawk in the low light from the fire that warmed the wigwam. Sitting up, the Rider looked over her bearskin robe at the sleeping female warriors and shook her head with a frown. The bark walls of the wigwam kept out the wind and the snow, and the fire as well as the presence of the others made getting out of bed the last thing Sage wanted to do.
Andrika smiled back and nodded her understanding. The Cherub looked tired, and her hand was freezing on Sage’s forearm as she helped pull the Nymph to her feet so they could change places. Standing now, she tucked Andrika in, pulling her golden wings around her before sealing her into the bearskin that she gladly shared with her comrade. The Plainswatcher smiled briefly at the gesture but was falling into exhausted sleep within seconds of her head hitting furs. Sage draped her blowgun over her shoulder and picked up her kusarigama where it had lain at the ready next to her head. She checked it over before coiling the chain in practiced silence and sliding it into its sheath on her belt in the small of her back. Her fingers slid over her throwing knives that were also sheathed on her belt as well as the pouch of poison tipped darts.
Her high, laced boots where still on and so, with her weapons ready, she danced nimbly around the bodies of the other Plainswatchers, then slipped under the skin that covered the low opening to the wigwam. She stood alone in the forest, her eyes adjusting slowly from firelight to starlight. After a moment, the snow covered forest-scape began to take shape around her. She could see several other wigwams as well as the hardwood trunks with their barren branches, grey in the starlight. Her ears strained to hear anything in the emptiness. The howling remnants of the storm had moved out onto the plains, leaving behind the cold, quiet calm of early winter. Her eyes drifted to the stars as she stood on the flattened snow and watched the cloud of her breath ascend towards the tree tops. The stars were revealed in exquisite detail as she held the freezing air in her lungs and she stood in awe for a moment.
The sight of the twinkling dots was made more magnificent by the swirling greens, blues, and violets of the lights that painted themselves across the scene. Does the sky look like this in the South? The thought shifted her thinking from the raw beauty of the night to the reason for her shift on watch. Up there, in the trees, she could see the dark shapes of a walkway and a small storehouse, as well as the shape of Katana where she slept in the branches. Taking a few steps along the trail her comrades had blazed through the snow, she reached a rope and began to pull herself skyward.
It was an easy climb for her strong shoulders, but her hands were frozen by the time she reached the top. Moving slowly along the walkway, she grabbed an exposed branch and pulled hersel
f up next to her Griffin. She was awake, her keen hearing having alerted the huntress to the approaching Nymph. She did not rise, the familiar scent of her Rider putting the catbird at ease. Sage moved her hands up into the feathers that surrounded her steed’s head and let them warm up there where she could feel the strong, slow, beating of her companion’s heart. Archeo was roosting there as well, a tiny hunter tucked into the feathers of a massive hunter. With her hands warmed and Katana drifting back to sleep, she leaned back against the warm side of the Griffin and pulled her rabbit fur jacket tight to begin the watch.
Her keen eyes scanned the snow-covered forest in all directions, searching for movement. She knew she would hear any approaching danger long before she saw it, but the scanning made it easier for her to stay awake. In some ways, the last watch was lucky. She had been able to sleep soundly throughout the night, and with so many Plainswatchers, there had been many nights where she did not need to take a watch at all. She knew that down along the line of wigwams there would be several other sentries helping to keep watch for Caiporas or Humans that might attack their camp. The thought of so many females working together, suffering and struggling together for their tribe, warmed her heart. She had gotten to know Andrika, a Cherub, and Caldera, a human, as well as several of the Giantesses serving with the Plainswatchers. Cooped up in their wigwams through the winter storms, they had discussed their poison traps, the network of supplies and fighting positions they had built, and battle plans, but they had also discussed males and their children and their homes. She had felt a feminine bond with them all on matters of life and war. Regardless of their race or age, the fumbling males of their tribes were a source of constant comic relief and caring for their homes and children was a constant source of pride. Together, the ruthless pragmatism made the all-female force a deadly asset for the North.
Sage watched the shifting colors in the night sky and remembered telling them of the Man she had killed. The response she had received was not pity or concern, but pride that her abilities as a scout and warrior had helped to defend their homes and families. Oberon was smart to send the females of the North to war. The Nymph thought of Taragon where his male warriors were massing for the coming raid a few miles to the South and wondered if they were as willing to defend the children and elders as were the females who gave birth to the next generation.
An owl began to hoot, its haunting call echoing through the trees, and Sage noticed the stars were dimming and the lights dancing across the sky had disappeared. She knew first light wouldn’t break for several hours but they would need that time to get into position for the raid that was scheduled to commence at dawn. She woke Archeo and felt her confidence increase as the little raptor landed on her shoulder. Lowering herself to the ground, she moved from wigwam to wigwam, spreading the word that it was time to begin. Soon she was watching the Plainswatchers arming themselves, checking their equipment, and lining up along the narrow paths they had cut through the trap infested woods. Here and there a torch illuminated the bows and spears, feathers and shields, pilfered armor alongside Nymph forged blades and hunting weapons.
Andrika was waiting on the platform in the trees when Sage began to make her way to Katana to begin playing her part in the coming battle. The Cherub looked striking even in the dark. She had let her Mohawk free, and it stood out like a war bonnet. To her daggers and bow the Plainswatcher had added a halberd and from the way she held it, Sage knew the Cherub knew how to use it.
“Do you think,” asked Sage as she surveyed their forces, “our daughters will be warriors?”
Andrika looked down at the assemblage of females. They were mostly Cherubim, but she could see several of her own tribe there along with Human’s and Giants.
“What if we never have any daughters?”
Sage looked solemn for a moment, then smiled, the playful nature of her Nymph blood shining through. “Because we are dead or because we can’t get males?”
Andrika laughed, the thought of this beautiful Nymph having any problem getting sex was enough to chase away her fears of the coming battle. “With my luck I’d have all sons,” answered the Cherub. “But, you are as deadly as you are beautiful, so I know you will survive and put down the war path one day. How will you raise your daughters?”
Sage looked up at the axe head of Andrika’s halberd, then ran her fingers along the daggers in her belt, finally grabbing the Cherub’s bracer as she imagined the arrows it would block that day. “Warriors all.”
Andrika nodded in agreement and Sage’s thoughts drifted from war to the kind of father Ignatius would make. Would he teach his daughters the ways of the woods as well as war?
“Even if we win peace this day, or some other day,” continued Andrika, “these Plainswatchers, you female Riders, the Elder females, they will lead the way. We would not hide this power from our daughters.”
Sage nodded, not certain if she could ask what she truly wanted to ask. Even with the cold nights spent around the fire in the wigwam, she didn’t know if Andrika would want to talk about it. The Nymph looked up at Katana and saw Archeo looking down from his pouch where it hung from the tree. She grabbed the saddle and began to prepare her steed for war, thankful for Andrika’s help with the kudzu vine ropes that held it in place. Watching the lighting perfection of the Cherub’s hands, she realized that if she didn’t ask now, she might never get the chance.
“Would you still want them to be warriors after what happened at Fort Hope?”
Andrika’s freckled face fell into an uncharacteristic frown as she remembered the Dwarves that had died in the raid, the sounds of the poisoned soldiers that she had sent to a tortured death. Finishing with the saddle, she placed her hand on Sage’s shoulder, squeezing through the multicolored rabbit skin jacket to tell the Nymph it was alright to ask.
“I will always hear their screams. But I will take my daughters, and my sons, to see the cave paintings of the Dwarf we left there on the mountain. And I will tell them of the cunning ways of the Plainswatchers so that they remember to fight with their heads. They will know so that they appreciate what it is we leave them, and so that they do not grow soft.”
Sage nodded, thinking of the Man she had killed. The Cherub’s words calmed her, preparing her for the coming battle, and she pulled Andrika into a hug.
“Yes,” agreed Sage, “we can’t have an entire generation that rushes in like the males. I will tell my daughters of Andrika and Stratera and how they took Fort Hope where a thousand others failed.”
As they pulled apart Andrika smiled and it was obvious she was grateful to have a friend to discuss her battles with. She placed her hand on Sage’s stomach. “Why do you ask?” She posed the question with the glint of playfulness returning to her eyes.
Sage smiled back as she climbed into the saddle but did not answer the question. “I’ll see you at daybreak. I will look for you on the field.”
Katana sensed Sage’s urgency and spread her great wings, bounding to the very top of the branches and exhaling a plume of steaming breath into the frigid, pre-dawn forest air. Sage felt her legs lock firmly into place in the kudzu stirrups and smiled as she pulled Ignatius’ buffalo robe around her, thankful that Andrika had thought to add it to her saddle bags. She could sense the Plainswatchers looking up at her from the trail below and she hoped the image of a Rider, a Rider that was of them and fought for them, would inspire them to courage. They will need it.
She took off quietly, feeling the wind chill as her steed circled up above the forest. The Nymph knew she had to make many stops to ensure their plans would be executed to perfection. As she flew, she couldn’t help but think of Ignatius. They had been apart for weeks now as he flew to the castle to give instructions to the other Riders and then as he moved with Albedo to defend Fort Hope. She thought of their time at Devil’s Lake and wondered if the war was changing things. What will we be like when this is over? She thought of how she had hidden his raid on the Southland commanders from her and longed for the
chance to tell him that she would accept him fully if he was fully honest.
Moving out over the prairie to the south she spotted the target of her next rendezvous after a change in Katana’s flight pattern alerted her to a sizable force moving out of the forest and onto the plains. She could see her people there, hundreds of Nymph warriors massing with dozens of Atlas’ Giants. It was too dark to make out the details, but to her eyes the Nymphs moved like a flock of birds around the Giants that moved like bears. The Nymphs were fast and smooth, the Giants slow and jerky in comparison. Katana made an awkward landing at the head of the column, the darkness difficult even for her. Taragon was there in a moment.
“So,” said the chief. “We are here to hold up our end of the bargain with the Riders.” The chief of her people grabbed her by the shoulders, looking down at the Nymph who had changed the destiny of her people. “We are bound to the North now, and we are here to shed our blood with them all.”
“And they are here with you,” said Sage. “The Plainswatchers advance, you march with the Giants, and you shall have your kudzu. Enough to grow our people until there are a hundred clans.”
Taragon nodded as Atlas lumbered into view, his armor catching the last glimmers of the stars. “And more steeds than you could ever ride,” said the Giant. Sage looked to where the Pathmaker had rested his palm on the head of a war bear and watched the great warrior snatch his hand back as the great steed snapped at him, eager for battle. She couldn’t help but smile at how the bear looked like a good pet for the Giant.
“If all goes according to plan,” said the chief.
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