Were those the actions of a people intent on peace?
No. And she was not so foolish as to argue that it was.
But as she glanced down, she could make out the fear on the children’s faces, the truly dire circumstances that must be within their people to risk the lives of all, even their pregnant women and their littlest ones.
For what?
It could all be for naught, a trap and a trick to draw them out so none could surprise them.
But another part of her, could see the desperation in it. To have their first confrontation be as a whole, to do what was needed to keep their coming a secret for as long as possible.
To avoid the little skirmishes that might influence the outcome of the entire interaction.
This went against all of their plans. They had called their only skilled fighters to offer aid, and to halt them now, before the battle had even begun...
Penryn swallowed, and she gestured down. “Their families are with them, Grim,” she entreated. “Why would they do that if all they wanted was to slaughter us all? Why put them at risk if war was their sole aim?”
She squeezed his arm a little more firmly as he looked over the side of the tower at what she had seen and recognised. “I am not stupid,” she reminded him, whether it was necessary to do so or not. “If they choose to fight, then we will as well. And they will die, and so will we.” She shook her head, her hand trembling. “But I will not pretend that is my wish. And perhaps it is not theirs either.” She raised her chin a little higher. “I would prefer to know before the end, if I am able.”
Grimult turned his face back to hers. So stern. Yet the love and worry for them all she did not doubt. “What do you intend to do?”
She reached out and gripped his hand, the one not currently clutching a weapon.
She knew of his resolve. Knew well that he was prepared to spill as much blood as necessary in the protection off his people.
His family.
Of her.
And she did not doubt him.
That he would be steady and sure, would do all he could.
Until he was cut down by the sheer number of those dedicated to...
What she could not quite yet name.
Not yet.
“I need to go down to them,” she told him, knowing that time was short. That Grimult’s patience was likely even shorter. “I need to know their purpose before...” Before it was too late to change things. Before there could be no going back, for too many people had been hurt, and no treaty could be borne of so many wounds, too many hearts slashed to bits as the mourning started and vengeance was desired above all else.
He wanted to argue with her, that much was clear. He had been given command of his initiates, even of the instructors he so admired. But with her...
He trusted her judgement.
And perhaps he should not.
But he did all the same.
“I will not forgive you if they kill you for this,” he informed her, already gathering her to him. “Do you understand me? And I will not forgive them either.”
She understood. That she was risking her life. His.
And that thought alone was almost enough to still her, to tell him that she had been foolish and the consequences too great, and...
She squeezed his hand about her middle. “One last task,” she promised him. “One more, and then you will take me home.” And the ache she felt for such a thing was nearly enough to leave her breathless.
But as Grimult jumped, when their positions were exposed, she saw the weapons directed suddenly to them, and the words poured forth. “If you wish to speak, it shall have to be with me,” Penryn called out, Grimult swooping low, over their heads and close to their own people, but not so near to either the beasts or any weapons that might be raised overhead.
Perhaps so near their kind, they would not risk loosing an arrow prematurely.
She could only hope so.
“They do not speak your tongue,” Penryn continued, her voice slightly hoarse with the panic she felt at the rapid descent and to be so close to those who even now she considered enemies.
The blade at her hip felt wholly inadequate, small and feeble against a people willing to trample over their own felled warrior.
“But I do. And I wish to understand your intent.”
Her feet touched the ground. Grimult did not release her, but she forced herself to wriggle free of him. So they might see, might not confuse Grimult’s wings for her own.
She was not one of them. Not in any true sense of the way.
But perhaps she was close enough that for just a moment, they might listen.
They were not instantly attacking, and she supposed that was something. The riders were still shouting for their people to hold, but there were other murmurs also, suddenly low and to neighbours.
Until suddenly they were not moving at all.
“Tell the others to stop,” came a rumbling order. The words were more difficult to make out than she might have liked. As if the words were the same, familiar to her ear and in the texts she used to study, but the manner in which they were spoken had altered over time. The lilt of the tongue was different, harsher. Sharper.
And she prayed they could understand her in turn.
She wanted to coax a promise from them. That if she turned her back, they would not harm Grimult or herself. But that required more trust than they likely were willing to bestow, and she would have to trust Grimult’s assessment of their situation.
As she turned her back to them.
There could certainly be no mistaking now that she bore a resemblance to them.
More murmurs.
Perhaps they would think she had been one of their kind, lost and taken in by the winged
