her.
When everyone had been served she raised the goblet she’d been sipping from and exclaimed, “To a new day!”
And the cup slipped from nerveless fingers to shatter on the ground.
She was suddenly ice cold and her heart was laboring, darkness was narrowing her vision. Hisshah drew a deep breath and tried to rise only to find it impossible.
No! she thought. Not now! Not when I’ve won! She turned her eyes to Ranowr. It was him. He’d killed her!
She tried to speak, tried to curse him, tried to kill him. Nothing worked. Her breath was coming hard now and the dark was closing in.
Ranowr suddenly dropped to his knees, dying himself from the poison he’d put in the wine.
“You…die…too,” she manged to hiss.
“I…die…free…and for…my people,” he said, laboring. “You…just…die.”
Her eyes closed. There was one last whispered sound:
“Prenna…our kit.”
Then nothing.
Battle’s Tide
MICHAEL Z. WILLIAMSON
And on the thirtieth day there rose before the clan a great mass of demons. And Rau wondered at their number. The Claws gathered and they too saw it was too many, but Aedonniss entered Hress Rscil and spoke to them, saying go this way and that and to strike as I instruct so that my own legions can join in the battle. So those in the claws took heart and fought with courage. But this was still not enough, for the most evil Sassin was powerful and his minions countless. Warriors fell and there was no one to fill the ranks. Then the Dancers came forth and stood with the warriors and everyone wondered. So the claws once more took heart and both fought on even as many more fell. Seven days and seven nights they fought, warrior and Dancer side by side, carving their way through a numberless horde. And finally when those who remained were exhausted and unable to even raise their weapons Aedonniss caused the sea to come forth. The waters rose and with them came a roar of vengeance. In the foam could be seen the face of every Dancer who had fallen and rising above the water on a silver chariot rode great Cmeo Mrist, priestess and lover. And the demon’s minions were torn asunder by the waves. But the warriors of the clan were touched by not a single drop. And so the way was once again open. – The Book of Nrao, verses eighty-four to eighty-six
N rao Aveldt liked his wagons and his spies.
In the colder lands to the north he had been an upstart. But here the Clan of Three Fangs was powerful enough to have even torn land from the Liskash. Times had been hard, still were, but the clan leader did not regret his decision to take his people south. At least he hadn’t until a few weeks ago, when the waters came.
He sat under the broad shade of his residence in a wicker chair, enjoying a drink of grer, fermented arosh milk. It refreshed the body and let his mind think clearly. He had much to think about. So did his advisors, seated in a ring with him on carved wooden chairs. His son Nef Esnrao benched quietly attentive off to the side, learning actual rulership along with the parchment lessons he took. The boy looked distracted, his long tail twitching impatiently from side to side, but Nrao understood that was partly an exploitation of his age. He was wiser than many suspected. He was tawny and handsome, certainly his mother’s son as well as his. Nrao’s warm, golden coat was striped with black on cheeks, wrists, tail and ankles. Distinctive markings, the seer Ingo said, for a male of distinction.
Nrao Aveldt’s neighboring Mrem sometimes mocked his taste in politics. They preferred decorated Dancers and large warriors. His corral of wagons, the extended wall and defense works around it, the shapers who maintained all, and the monies spent on distant rumors amused them.
He had Dancers and warriors, too. His warriors knew several fighting styles and tactics. His Dancers studied a variety of dances and incantations. When a fight came, the wagons moved his warriors rapidly, and he could place them in superior position to the enemy.
That was why his steading was larger than any within knowledge, and why he was amused at the mirth sent his way. Hidebound traditionalists would fall by the wayside. His clan was one of the first to take southern land from the Liskash. The ancient enemies were still licking their wounds. This meant he had some of the best water and grazing. They held a large if dusty savanna with three large rivers and numerous wells and oases. Clan herds beyond count browsed the tall grass. So it had been for over five years, an ideal home for a growing clan, but now…
When the sea broke through to the Hot Depths, he’d dispatched scouts, diplomats and spies to draw maps and tell him all they saw. They were here now, to counsel him on all they knew.
Nrao Aveldt began, “I would like updates on each aspect. Talonmaster Hress Rscil?”
It would be hard to miss Hress Rscil, the talonmaster, with his oiled fur looking darker than its natural tan tones, worn and abraded harness he seemed never to remove, and flat but heavy muscles. Next to him were spear, javelin, battle claws and knife, neatly leaning against the bench. He had come directly from fighting practice.
Hress Rscil spoke in his deep, confident voice. “The refugees continue to gather and approach. One large band has gathered the remnants of several clans. Few are a threat directly, but all need food and water. I still suggest guiding them west and then north to the cool streams and woods. It is not long before we will have to do the same. Isolated there is no question that eventually we will fall. We must also keep the way open until then for others who are farther in. Their strength will be needed.” One ear twitched as he finished.
Nrao Aveldt said, “While I bear them no ill will, sending them ahead provides useful information, and has some effect on the cursed Liskash.”
“Yes, Clan Leader.” The talonmaster was practical, of course.
“Seer Ingo?”
His elder philosopher, aged but spry, his fur tufted and ticked in white, leaned against one arm of his bench and said, “Land itself, the Hot Depths, was taken from the earth. It was not prime land for anyone with fur, but all of its dwellers must find a new place to live. The weather is still changing, and more than we expected. The sun will draw much rain from this large new sea, and drop it to the west. This will improve growth, but will also cause new rivers and erosion.”
Nrao Aveldt nodded acknowledgment. “Will that cool things enough to hinder those annoying Liskash?”
“I don’t know yet.” Seer Ingo did not lower his ears in shame. It was safe to be unsure around Nrao Aveldt. He knew not all answers were cast in bronze. “It may enable or hinder them.”
“Can we use that land?”
“We can. It could prove rich eventually, but it would take development of grass, then scrub, and repeated burnings to make a rich soil. We’d need to transport earth borers, naked tails and goats to provide dung and dig it in with claw and hoof. Also, the Liskash will object.”
Nrao Aveldt smiled and said, “They’ll object, but it might not be an issue, if the climate is not to their favor. Watcher Tckins Mestri?”
His head spy leaned forward slightly. The Mrem was slim and very average looking. His dull gray coat was healthy but ordinary. He wore harness of a trader, the pouches stuffed with items and valuables. It was a suitable disguise for his comings and goings.
“Nrao Aveldt, there is much going on between the Liskash and other Mrem. People fled the flooding in all directions, some to be captured by Liskash, others crowded and displaced. They caravan and fight, as the talonmaster has said, to seek homes farther north, and west around the New Sea. Liskash fight with them, and each other. I can’t speak to the long term of the region, but movement west is our only option. East is desert and sea, south is Liskash, north is the New Sea.”
The clan leader said, “That is certainly an issue. Do you believe it’s worth it to move now, though?” Tckins
