Talonmaster Rscil considered the location of his battle stronghold carefully. His force was limited and casualties had to be minimized. That was necessary for Nrao Aveldt’s wishes, and his own survival. He would not waste his Mrem.
He chose a broad hill, not very high, but with steeper sides. It would be hard to approach, hard to attack, except by the accursed leatherwings. Spears would do for those. To counter ground troops, they would construct a fortress, but one with many surprises for the enemy.
Under his direction, the warriors, drivers, haulers and the stronger females went to work. The drillmasters snarled in friendly fashion, indicating placement. Everyone dug, making a low rampart around the hill, surrounded by a now much steeper approach. There were two entrance ramps, one facing the territory ahead, one back toward their holding.
The younger warriors used the large bronze tube hammer to set their stakes into the rampart, and the fist leaders followed along, each with their rope and thong, lashing them into a solid defense. The wagons, their wheels blocked, made a defensive inner circle. A large, frontal assault might still overwhelm the post, especially if the attacker was willing to trample his own warriors, but it would give enough time to mount and depart, or at least flee on foot. The wagons were left packed, and items only withdrawn as they became essential.
It was tough, panting work, and might have to be done several times, but it would leave them with a trail of defensible positions. All Nrao Aveldt’s group would have to do to augment it was drive their own stakes in the existing rampart.
That done, watches were set, well-hidden firepits dug for food, and latrines cut to drain downslope, rendering those areas even less approachable. If there was time, more earthworks and stakes might go in. It was not nearly as good as a stone castle, but stronger than the natural terrain.
Once done with that, they rested a day. Progress would be slow. Clan Leader Nrao Aveldt’s neighbors would laugh at this, as they had at many of his practices in the past. They’d prefer to rush headlong. Nrao and Rscil preferred to minimize risks. Those left in camp would be charged with reinforcing it daily until no longer needed, starting with more earth, then adding any rocks or timbers they found.
Buloth took great delight in the acquisition, or near-acquisition, of more slaves for his army. He was somewhat nervous, and fought not to let it show in front of his senior servants. Ahead were the Mrem escaping from the Hollow Lands, numbering some two hundred. He cautioned his lead slaves to restrain themselves, and they simply trudged over the landscape, like the mindless beasts all non-Liskash were. He prodded his drivers and beasts to move ahead, to give him range. He sat back in his padded seat aboard the trunklegs and patted his hands together in gleeful anticipation.
One hundred and ninety was his improved estimate. A little closer.
It was exciting. He could feel their minds, feel them becoming distinct entities, and knew they were unaware of him. They were beyond that next ridge. Some suggested they were on watch, but they were not atop it yet. He knew of them, they not of him. He grinned.
Suddenly it clarified in his mind, like melted sandglass. One hundred and eighty-eight exactly. Three of them approached the crest of the ridge. He continued to approach but focused on them. They were near the peak, he could feel their unease and then…he had them. He felt for the symbols, but could make nothing of their harsh, unorganized language. He pushed what he needed, though, and one of them turned and signaled below. Then they began back down.
A little while later, he felt the minds of the others in his circle. He stretched out, felt a mass shriek of panic and fear, then a huge swell as their minds fell under his. It was almost sexual, the warm flood of power and anguish, and then they were his. They could not withstand him. They must see their new master!
His beasts topped the ridge, he looked down on his new vassals. The dull eyes of the Mrem refugees stared up at him. It was not the welcome he would have liked, but he loved the sensation that all the creatures he could see belonged to him. With a casual hand, he suggested his army build its camp for the night around his new charges.
To drive home the point, he set the filthy furbags to work digging cesspits.
Buloth could feel his power growing day by day. It was a combination of practice and distance from his father. That made sense and also proved the need to set his own godhold a safe remove from Oglut’s domain. They could be allies. They could not be cohabitants. The weaker Liskash didn’t matter; he could control them if he wished, or ignore them to their peace. Only a few were worthy of godhood, though, and while they must mate to keep the lines pure, otherwise, distance was needed.
He’d been directed northerly, and there were allegedly Mrem that way. He wasn’t keen on north. North was cold, and hard on people. However, it was now a lot more moderate, and humid, than the previous time he’d been here with his father. It seemed to be true the weather was changing with the New Sea. He’d have to make sure to see it, after he secured a godhold. He’d have to go to it to assuage his curiosity, he thought wryly. Creatures would take his orders. The sea would not.
A few more gis of distance should be enough for now. That would put him beyond the Low Mountains, and create an easy border at a safe distance. He could always relocate his capital at a later date. The labor was free, after all.
He pondered the power his mind gave him, to take peripheral information from entire gis away, if one of his slaves saw something, and then to integrate it into his plans. The future belonged to Liskash.
It was at that moment that he saw a flash of a Mrem wagons, well within the borders of his godhold. Buloth growled and grew tense, and sought the source of the vision. There. That one, and through it he saw the filthy creatures had even constructed a crude fortification, of sticks and mud. Somewhat like ants they were, but far too clever for stupid beasts.
He flicked a finger in their direction. That excrescence would have to be dealt with at once.
He directed the slaves to abandon their digging and walk. If he was satisfied with their progress, they could eat tonight.
In a crack in a grassy hillside littered with fractured rocks, Hril Aris felt the vile punch of Buloth’s mind. He focused on the grass in front of him, absorbing its smell, its color, its springy coils, fighting to be one with the grass, not that mind. It worked. He wasn’t enslaved.
To his surprise he realized he had gained information from that brief but intrusive touch. He knew that mind was sending a large army toward them, based on something seen by a creature in thrall to it. That spy had to be one of the browsing pebbleskins they’d passed earlier, or even one of the leatherwings drifting overhead in lazy circles, may Aedonniss curse them. Given all that, it would be best to wait for dark for him and Flirsh Arst to move. The reptiles were not only slow and cold, they couldn’t see in darkness, either.
He gestured to Flirsh, and they both crawled deeper into the crevice to await the night.
It took all their training not to panic. Their fur fluffed in fear as well as for warmth, and they huddled like kits. Hril listened and felt the thud of footsteps. He lost count of the number of reptilians who came past, from little scavengers to herd beasts to adult, armed Liskash in singles and small groups. Even a trio of bedraggled, half- starved Mrem caught in the spell wandered not far enough away for comfort. He and Flirsh didn’t speak, but he knew they were both terrified of winding up just so-brainless, pitiable slaves of a scaled monster. He wasn’t sure if it would be better to rescue those Mrem or kill them in mercy. All he and Flirsh had were knives and hand axes, though, for food and shelter.
Eventually, dusk gave way to darkness. They eased themselves out of the crack in the rock, and he led the way, fur stiff and heart thrumming, in a low, silent slink between rocks and tufts, toward the distant fortification, which didn’t feel as safe now.
After a few hundredlengths of aching muscles and grueling fear, he deemed it safe to rise and walk erect. When he was sure there were no other creatures about, they ran.
