The Unfinished Song - Book 6: Blood (14 page)

Vio snorted. “You Purple Thunder tribesfolk like stealing horses even better than riding them.”

Nonetheless, he suffered the horses to be taken across the ford and then kraaled with the Purple Thunder herd. He had no time for quibbling, and he could not afford to offend Hegaro’s prickly pride.

Tavaedies and sept-leaders from throughout the camp converged to meet Vio. After they cut their arms to add their blood to his, they returned the blooded spears the Runners had sent to them.

“We will be with you, Maze Zavaedi!” they cried, waving the spears.

“Your courage does you honor,” he said. His eyes slid to another group, a dozen men and two women, who kept back. They were all Morvae Tavaedies of War Leaders from Morvae-allied clans. He frowned, aware of Zumo silent at his side.

“Have you no pledge for your War Chief?” he asked.

“We will give our pledge to Zumo the Cloud Dancer,” said a man who evidently spoke for all of them.

“You’ll give your pledge to me or to no one at all!” bellowed Vio. “I am War Chief, not my nephew. Zumo himself will confirm this.”

“Do as he says,” commanded Zumo, though his lazy tone was insolent.

They muttered amongst themselves. The man who had spoken before said, “Give me one more day, Maze Zavaedi, and I will bring the more stubborn ones around.”

The whole group departed. Vio cussed out loud and resisted the urge to grab Zumo by the cuff and shake him. The boy looked sullen and nervous at the same time.

That night, Vio doubled the number of men in the “guard of honor” around Zumo’s tent. He planned to keep vigil himself during the night, for there was something he distrusted about the situation. But he underestimated the toll the hard day’s ride had taken on his old bones. He fell asleep before midnight.

He woke up when his tent caught fire.

Vio leaped out of the burning tent, shouting. Other men shouted and ran hither and thither as well.

“We are under attack!” Vio yelled. He squinted at the sky, expecting to see Raptors, but the stars were not eclipsed by anything winged.

He found Danumoro fighting three foes. Vio ran to his side and killed two. He yanked the third by his braid to shout in his face, “What is your tribe? Whom do you serve?”

“We serve the Mervaedi!” spat the man. He tried to knife Vio, and Danumoro cut off his head with an ax.

The man’s answer made no sense. The
Mervaedi
?

“Zumo has betrayed us,” panted Danumoro. “These are Blue Waters warriors, and many of the Morvae are fighting with them!”

“We must take the high ground.” Vio pointed up the slope. “Order the men loyal to us to regroup on that promontory.”

He slew and slaughtered his way through the camp, where all was chaos. Many of his warriors did not know whom to fight and simply added to the melee with random violence. Others fled in all directions, squealing like little girls. He wanted to cuff them. The Blue Waters warriors, however, were extremely focused on their task, which was to form a circle of spears around Zumo and race away with him to their boats on the river.

“Zumo, you traitor!” bellowed Vio, wading into the water. A dozen Blue Waters men raised their bows, but they did not loose their arrows.

“Don’t make me kill you, old man!” Zumo warned. “I am not in league with the one who took your wife. Quite the contrary, I know you would trade me to him for her, and I have no desire to keep him company. When I return to the Rainbow Labyrinth, it will not be as
his
pet, but under my own totem, by my own Shining Name. You wanted my pledge?
This
is my pledge: Zumo the Cloud Dancer
will
be War Chief!”

Vio roared and slogged into the river, ignoring the threat. A few arrows hit the water around him. The Blue Waters warriors paddled their oversized canoes into the deeper currents too quickly for him to catch up. Beyond them, he saw a sight that gave him hope this fiasco could still be reversed. Hegaro and his riders had mounted on the far side of the river, all the horses with them.

“Hegaro!” Vio cried. “We can still catch those bandits!”

“I fear not, rain brother,” Hegaro called back. “When an old stallion loses control of his mares to a young stud, it is a waste of time to put the old hoof back in the field. Since you cannot command your own tribesmen, you do not deserve to command mine either. I’ll be taking my horses and returning to my own tribeslands now.”

“A third of those horses are mine!”

“I see only purple on their flanks!” Hegaro laughed and rode away, splashing Vio as he passed. The riders and horses all followed him just as closely, and, unsurprisingly, all the horses bore the freshly painted totem marks of Purple Thunder clans. Hegaro had cut a secret deal with Zumo, or he would never have been able to take advantage of this night attack so swiftly. Svarr was the last rider to thunder past Vio across the ford.

Froth drenched Vio. He sputtered and staggered back to the nearer shore to join Danumoro on the high promontory where the remnants of his army waited. It took them into morning to sort out the milling men, and when Vio finally counted heads again, the results were grim. From 54 great-septs, he was reduced to 28, and many of his Tavaedies—mostly the Morvae—had fled with Zumo. Vio made certain to thank those Morvae who had not abandoned him and to silence the Imorvae who cursed all Morvae out loud. He had only one hundred fifty Tavaedies and one thousand four hundred spear holders.

And no horses.

Worst of all, even the men and women who remained were dispirited or actively doubtful. He saw the glances they exchanged or shot in his direction when they thought he didn’t see. They no longer trusted him to command. Hegaro’s mockery buzzed in his ears.
The
Old Hoof has lost his herd
.

“Well,” Vio said loudly to Danumoro with a hearty chuckle, within the hearing of several clumps of men. “Our plan worked.”

Danu cleared his throat. “Uh. Yes. It worked well.” 

What in Faearth are you talking about?
his expression asked.

“Zumo and the other rats lifted their masks too soon and were forced to flee for their wretched lives,” Vio continued. “And Hegaro will watch our horses for us until we need them.”
And by the Lost Wheel, I will take those horses back, Hegaro
, he added in silent fury. But he peeled his lips back from his teeth into a forced smile. “Since, of course, we would not want to ride horses through the mountains when there are beasts much better suited for cliff walking.”

“How well I know it!” said Danumoro, though his face wryly quizzed:
Like what?

“You’ll see,” said Vio. “When we are a little higher in the mountains, I will fetch our new mounts.”

“What’s your motivation?” Svego asked Dindi.

“To kill an evil tyrant before he can destroy the world.”

Svego tapped his cheek with his fingertip. In the background, the drums pounded in time to his taps. Dindi had been practicing clown moves all afternoon with Gremo and Svego.

“A little more epic than I was going for,” admitted Svego. “Have you considered instead a light-hearted farce in which lovers in disguise mistake one another for strangers?”

“Or a tragedy in which they become enemies and slay one another?” suggested Gremo brightly. “Always a crowd pleaser.”

“How about they join forces and hack their real enemy to itsy-bitsy, bloody bits,” said Dindi.

“Fa, Dindi, you she-wolf! I unweave the words I said. You
have
changed. You’re much more bloodthirsty than I remember. Grrrr!” He leaned forward to confide huskily: “I like it.”

“Being taken captive by your worst enemy for three moons will do that.”

“Oh, sweetling… is that what happened to you?”

“Yes.” She reconsidered. “No, I unweave what I said. I wasn’t taken captive by my
worst
enemy. Only by my second-worst enemy.”

“What a relief.”

“
Now
I’m a captive of my worst enemy.”

“The one destined to end up in itsy-bitsy bloody bits?”

“The very same.”

Svego patted her shoulder. “You growl, girl.”

“Thank you for all this, Svego, Gremo. And that’s no jest.”

“It’s my nature, honey. I’m a giver like a river.”

She had borrowed pieces of their costumes to make her own outfit. She kept her white dress and blood gold necklace, which looked unmistakably Aelfae, but to add a comic element added fake wings and exaggerated face paint. Remembering the hobgoblins, she put a boot on her head for a headdress. Svego studied her, then silently tied on two huge cones, wrapped from bark and held by a harness, around her chest.

“Is that really necessary?” Dindi knew her face was pink.

“Trust me, it never hurts to have big cones.”

“What was going on this morning?” she asked. “The Offering of Lambs?”

“The Drovers and Weavers must show their submission to the Eagle Lords, and others in the Tavaedi caste. Each year the lower caste clans have to present their firstborn infants, virgin daughters, and young warriors to the high castes Tavaedies, who may, if they choose, kill the babies for magic, keep the girls as bed slaves, or retain the warriors as guards. If they allow it, however, the families can redeem their kin with alternative sacrifices: a lamb for the babes, a new-woven cloth for a virgin, a slave for the warrior. A strong warrior can demand the Ram’s Right to fight for his or his kinswoman’s freedom. Then the War Chief is allowed to name one of his own most powerful warriors, an Eagle Lord or Raptor Rider usually, to fight him. The Tavaedi generally wins, but the occasional upset keeps the betting interesting.”

“How terrible!”

“You know how Morvae are,” said Svego dryly. He had been born a slave into a Morvae tribe, Blue Waters. “But that’s not the worst part.”

“What’s the worst part?”

“We have to
fast
!” He waved his hand before his face as if he felt faint. “I am not meant to starve myself.”

“But everyone is cooking…”

“There will be a feast after sunset, after the Aelfae dance.”

“Right.” She straightened her shoulders, which made the bark cones jiggle. “I hope this works.”

“Are they really Aelfae who have returned to Faearth?” Svego asked. “Or just half-breeds who’ve been hiding out in some hidden valley for the last several generations?”

“They are really Aelfae.”

Svego nodded, but Dindi wasn’t sure he believed it.

Sun set rapidly in the mountains. Before she knew it, the rams’ horns sounded, and the Aelfae returned to the center clearing, ready to perform the promised dance.

“Wish me fortune,” said Dindi.

“Step on a snail.”

The Aelfae dance was beauty and grace. No two did the same routine, yet their moves complemented one another with exquisite harmony.

And they flew.

Dindi kept a low profile until she saw an opening in the crowd.

Then, just as she had before, she darted out to join them…

…and tripped and fell.

She caught her fall in a disjoined somersault that looked far more painful than it was.

Surprised, the crowd laughed.

While the Aelfae fluttered like gorgeous butterflies, Dindi wriggled around comically like a moth trying to reach a flame. She flapped her arms as if she thought that would make her fly, and fell on her face again. The crowd laughed even louder.

Svego and Gremo had taught her to fake falls and “bone breaks” as they called them—moves that seemed as though they ought to result in broken bones but somehow never did. She’d never danced this way before, but it was fun, actually. She even employed her Three Legged Goat move that she had once tried out with Kavio. He had grumped at her. But the crowd loved it.

The Aelfae loftily ignored her.

Dindi was careful not to upstage them entirely. She lay low during bits of their dancing, returned for a few laughs, then drew back again to let them garner the applause of the drumming and ram horns at their finale. 

At the end of the dance, the Aelfae formed a single file line to return to the Guest House where they were staying.

Dindi, marching with silly exaggeration even now, traipsed after them.

No one stopped her.

Vio’s bluff had worked. The warriors were all abuzz with speculation about their leader’s clever plan. The army’s pace was slower since they were climbing into the mountains on foot, but they made reasonable progress. When Vio announced to Danumoro and the other War Leaders that he would leave for half a day—and must, by need, travel alone—to fetch their new mounts, they accepted this strange news without skepticism.

There were details he left out. He sought a secret place, Hidden Crater, home to a clan so insular that they elected their own chiefs and made a rule that no-one could leave their valley upon pain of death. They had allowed Vio and Vessia to leave once before because of a great gift they had given the clan, but he had neither Vessia nor a great gift with him now. He did not know if the Hidden Canyon clan would allow him to leave alive. If he had told Danu or the others this, they would not have let him go, or would have insisted on bringing many warriors to force the clan to accept his terms.