Epilogue 3: The Bridge World. |
One year after the Coven agreement.
Sudden Rain walked down the slope from the village of many clans, past the pottery maker and the worried sentries. From here, he could see where the flag for a meeting was raised and where two of his people stood next to a tall human in a long piece of cloth. Those humans sure loved to wrap themselves in woven fabric… He hissed his displeasure.
“Since when are the Carved Tusk demanding a parlay on behalf of humans? Humans are not a tribe. This is not a proper flag,” he roared.
Those Carved Tusk cowards did not immediately reply. They stood to the sides, backs arched by fear. Hss! Despicable. Sudden Rain strode to them at first, but his aggressive steps slowed to a crawl when he noticed which specific human was there. The mask, carved in the wooden tokens of those few who had returned, was too brash a statement. What an insult.
“You!”
“Do not!” the Carved Tusk shaman yelled. “Do not. We already ascertained his identity. It is him.”
Sudden Rain resisted the urge to spit on the ground. This was still a peaceful meeting, and although he had thoughts about the Carved Tusk, let it be known that his tribe wouldn’t break their oath.
“You are spinning tales as ridiculous as the claims of a whelp. Hah! Him? Elderbane?”
“Yes.”
The human was tall, as tall as some warriors. He didn’t emit much aura for now but that spoke of control, not weakness.
“Prove it.”
The shaman did not get the time to translate. The human waved a hand, opening a window through the fabric of reality and into the heart of their fort where rows upon rows of armored soldiers waited. Not a patrol, or even a raid. Sudden Rain watched them, as they turned to watch him. He saw their fire-spitting machines and the lights of their beams shining upon a thousand spears, and he knew that this was an invasion force. A horde. A tribe of tribes.
An army.
The settlement was already lost.
The Red Titan approached the window. There were others, one of wind, one of water, one of metal, all fourth ascension. A force that could not be stopped, not with a dozen tribes. He didn’t have a dozen tribes. And it wouldn’t have mattered.
“Elderbane,” Sudden Rain whispered.
The masked human spoke in a translating machine. The hisses that returned were slow and smooth, the voice of a wise man. Not the brash tones of a newly blooded hunter.
“We have come to claim your land. By the rite of parlay, we are granting your crafters, the cultivators, and your children the chance to flee. Our mercy will extend until the sand in this hourglass has run out.”
Elderbane placed the item on a nearby rock. Fine sand bled down like the time Sudden Rain didn’t have.
“And then,” Elderbane continued, “We will come for you.”
Sudden Rain hissed softly. This was his first command. Should he withdraw now, he would never hold another office. It took a few heartbeats for his soul to accept it. His first duty was to his tribe. It would not benefit from the death of a hundred of its best people.
He accepted this truth in his mind.
“Very well.”
Sudden Rain ran back. His orders were clipped, hissed with a cracking voice, yet none objected. None from his tribe, anyway. A flow of laborers and children left the Bridge village with wails and hisses, but they left alive. On the other side, he had to threaten the sentries so they would let him pass. A few of the more stubborn warriors refused to believe him. They called him spineless, and they gathered before the portal to make a stand. But the foes didn’t come from the portal. They came from the side, having crossed some other way. It was no battle, and by the time they were done, the humans were crossing from everywhere with their machines and their numbers, and when Sudden Rain looked behind at dawn when the light of the sun caressed the hill where he had spent two years, a steel carapace barded with the spikes of their weapons was already rising. It was the first such fort on his world. It wouldn’t be the last.