10. Far Southeast: The Spy and the Warlord.

Twenty one seasons ago

The Juskabal tribe was uncommon among Juska in three aspects. First, it was bigger than usual, close to a hundred fighting beasts. Second, while most Juska Seers were, by tradition, vixens, Juskabal had a female weasel Seer, Ishiha. And third, it was now led by the beast who proclaimed himself Taggerung, Khadakh Bal. Though the third part was less and less uncommon these days, when Taggerungs seemed to multiply, each claiming to be the one and only real prophesised warlord – not an unexpected development, perhaps, given how much every Juska waited for a new Taggerung to appear, yet remarkable nonetheless.

Olkuna pointed that to Ishiha on her third day in Juskabal's camp, after the old, bony weasel dropped a few phrases indicating her skepticism regarding the status of her chieftain.

Ishiha responded by demonstrating her remaining blackened teeth in an expression that probably was meant to be a smile, rather than a snarl. Juska Seers with established position in a tribe could be quite hostile to wandering ones, but Ishiha was old and probably looked for a successor anyway, so she even welcomed the young, healthy vixen in her own tent. Then she leaned closer and let out a whispering hiss: "Sssurely Khadakh, that big bully, ain't no true Taggerung. Have you seen it too? Have you seen it? That dream?"

This was news to Olkuna. But she already knew that the elder Seer loved listening to herself, so she made a grave expression and nodded. As she expected, Ishiha continued: "Yeeeees. On a great mountain the Taggerung was born, and on a great mountain he'll reveal himself before all the tribes of Juska. With lightning he is marked, and amidst lightning and thunder he will appear… wait, waaait, what in the Hellgates is this?"

Olkuna was listening only to the old weasel. She straightened and perked up her ears, trying to catch what the decrepit creature heard. A second later there was a sound clearly audible to everybeast in the camp – the piercing call of a Juska signal whistle. Then noise came from everywhere, as across the camp the vermin were jumping to their paws, scrambling for their weapons and asking hectic questions.

"Come on, vixen!" With energy surprising for her age, Ishiha too leapt to her feet, and grabbed Olkuna by the wrist. "Let's see what's going on, let's seeee!"

That sounded like a plan. Olkuna felt little fear. A single long whistle was always a warning about a coming foe, but she was sure that nothing could threaten Juskabal, except for other Juska. Surely Gillem could not sneak his entire troop this deep into the Juska land without her knowledge, and attack… no, in fact he could, if he really wanted to. She just did not see what her spying mission was supposed to accomplish then, and so far she did not do anything that the great badger might have interpreted as betrayal, so even if the Vigilants were coming, they were not coming with the intent to slay her. And as for other Juska, slaying or, to a smaller extent, hurting a Seer was one of the strongest taboos among them. And Olkuna had spent quite a lot of time dying and dirtying her fur, weaving small bones into it, and picking once colorful but now ragged clothes, so every Juska could see that she's not just a Seer, but a Seer of the crazy, wild, dirty, ugly witch sort, with nothing worth robbing, but undoubtedly with potent curses ready for anybeast foolish enough to wrong her. It seemed relatively safe for her to stay and witness whatever was about to unfold.

The Juskabal camp was located in a river bend, with only one side open to attack. The tribe remained here for a week already, and Khadakh Bal probably intended to stay in this place for the winter. The tribesbeasts already cut down several small trees within their camp for firewood, but they did not even touch the old, gnarled oak at the middle of it, and that was where Ishiha was leading Olkuna. The old weasel had more health remaining in her than her looks suggested, she climbed to one of lower branches, from which a great view opened, just as fast as the much younger vixen.

They got there just in time to see the beginning of the battle. Juskabal, like all Juska, lived ever-ready for a fight, and though the foe almost managed to catch them unprepared, they quickly massed at the edge of the camp, confident in their ability to match any hostile tribe blow for blow and arrow for arrow.

That was no surprise for Olkuna, unlike the nature of the attackers, who just emerged from the woods. In part they appeared like Juska, most of them wore similar kilts and cloaks, had their fur covered with stripes of green warpaint, and seemed to have face markings too, though Olkuna could not discern them at this distance. But they were not armed like typical Juska, but rather in a way of eastern vermin of hill, scrubland and coast, carrying large square or oval shields, with feather-crested helmets here and there. Before Olkuna could figure something out, Ishiha interrupted her thoughts:

"Vulpuz' guts, those bloody crows! Shoo, featherbags, your feast is not ready yet!"

The vixen looked up, and indeed at least a couple dozens of crows were now circling the sky above the Juskabal camp. She did not notice when or from where all these birds appeared.

Mighty warcries drew her attention back to what was happening on the ground. The throng of Juskabal surged forwards with an ululating wordless howl, common for Juska, but it was the chant with which the attackers advanced to meet them that made Olkuna's heart skip a beat: "Ferric! Ferric! Kill, kill, kill!"

As far, as Olkuna could see, their numbers were lesser, but their chant was not drowned out, and they did not turn to flee, as Juskabal bore down on them. So, as if by unheard command, the two forces slowed down and stopped, fifteen to twenty paces from each other. The vixen witnessed fights between whole tribes before, and this did not surprise her. Unless nerve of one of the sides suddenly cracked at the last moment and they routed upon seeing their foes' advance up close – not a common occurrence for those confident enough to accept a head-on battle in the first place – such a stand-off was bound to happen. Missiles, spears and javelins, arrows and slingstones, now flew between the opposed ranks, most going wide, or thudding against shields, some digging into unprotected flesh.

Olkuna took a quick stock of the forces. By her count, the attackers had about three and half scores, against almost five on the Juskabal side – and the latter also had cubs and non-fighting females, who at least could help the wounded and bring more missiles to their mates and parents. But though their numbers were smaller, their shields were more suitable for this sort of fighting than smaller round Juska shields, covering their wielders from shoulders to ankles. And there were a few beasts who had not only shields, but gleaming mail among their ranks. Olkuna heard before that easterners were hard to beat in a fair and square battle on open ground, but bad in forest warfare of raids and long marches, tracking and ambushes. Yet this force somehow managed to sneak up on a Juska camp deep in the Juska land! The vixen could not make heads or tails of what was happening, so for now she decided to simply watch.

A small group of bolder Juskabal warriors on the right tried to split away and take the enemy into the flank, using uneven, overgrown ground on their side of the small battlefield to cover their approach. But enemy commanders were not slow, or blind – the enterprising Juskabal were met by a tall, armored warrior, a weasel or a stoat by his looks, who laid two of them low with two strikes of his battleaxe, and sent the rest scampering.

Olkuna could now see that there were four, no, five, warriors in steel mail among that strange force, all stoats or weasels. Besides the big axebeast, one was in the center, waving a long pike with a pennant, made of a while tailbrush, exhorting the warriors one moment, stepping forward to shout challenges and insults, heedless of all the missiles flying his way another moment. Two, one with a longbow, and one with a sling, were on the attackers' right, dispensing deadly shots. And one, the most vigorous and energetic of all, seemed to be everywhere, hurling spears and javelins, appearing wherever the danger seemed to be greatest, wherever spears and arrows flew the thickest, to bolster wavering ranks. Juskabal might have had numbers, but not only they lacked in armaments – they clearly did not have fighters to match these five.

"By ice eternal, they're getting whipped!" hissed Olkuna under her nose.

Despite all the noise of battle not so far away, Ishiha heard her: "Weeeelll, you ain't blind after all, little kit. I bet Khadakh now regrets paying no mind to my advice, hehehehe."

Whether Khadakh regretted that or not, he apparently saw that things are not looking good for his tribe. Olkuna saw the big fox, in whom she immediately recognized the chieftain himself, stepping forward from the ranks. She did not hear his words clearly, but the reaction of both hosts indicated that he issued a challenge to single combat between leaders. It was not seen as cowardly or unbecoming to reject such challenges when your side was already winning. Yet now fighters stopped pelting each other with missiles, quieted down and backed away a bit. The stoat, that vigorous one, exchanged his battered shield for a lighter one with a nearby beast, and stepped forward.

Now the opposing ranks started to chant anew, encouraging their chieftains. "Khadakh! Khadakh! Khadakh Bal Taggerung!" repeated the Juskabal. But they could not drown out the voices of their foes: "Ferric! Ferric! Ferric Lin Taggerung!"

So, the stoat whelp indeed was alive and well. Olkuna felt the old scar on her head itching, and hoped for Khadakh to send this sudden ghost from her past right to Hellgates, where he belonged. Ferric looked big and formidable in his battle gear, but not as big and formidable as his opponent.

They started the duel by hurling their spears at each other, both sending deadly missiles flying at almost the same time, and both covering themselves with their shields. Ferric staggered two steps back when the heavy spear pierced his shield, but immediately recovered, and pulled the spear out of the wooden planks in a moment. Khadakh staggered back one step, but when he tried to pull out Ferric's spear, it refused to budge. The fox drew his long sword and tried to cut the spearshaft off – it did not break from the first strike. Ferric was almost upon him, sword drawn and raised, so Khadakh threw away his shield, useless with the spear weighting it down, and slashed at the foe with both paws. Olkuna thought that maybe he wasn't the smartest of chieftains, but fighting like that, with no thought for defense, took courage. And for a few seconds, it seemed like that courage and sheer strength could still allow the fox to overwhelm the smaller stoat, Ferric only able to hide behind his shield from hammering blows. Then Ferric found a brief opening to strike, and his sword lashed out, catching Khadakh in the knee.

Olkuna's jaws tightened in anger and disappointment, as she looked away. This duel and this battle were over.

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One reason Juska grew and multiplied in these lands was their treatment of the defeated in tribal wars. Other savage vermin, particularly single-species tribes, routinely massacred those unlucky enough to fall into their paws to the last mewling cub, and so tribes disfavored by fortune often fought to the last beast. Juska, however, had the custom of adopting the vanquished fellow Juska into the victorious tribe. In cases like today, when the defeated were still roughly equal in numbers with the victors, they could even be allowed to apply the paint of their new tribe right away, without getting robbed of their belongings or suffering through a few customary days of abuse and mockery. And so it was not uncommon for whole tribes to lay down their arms and accept their loss, upon getting cornered, or seeing that the enemy tribe is led by a much superior warrior.

But family of a chieftain who failed his tribe – if he had any – still could never expect any quarter. The defeated themselves sometimes dispatched relatives of such an ill-fated beast, before the victor could get to ridding himself of them. Five fox hides of differing sizes were thrown over the tree stump which Ferric Lin turned into his improvised throne, to dispense rewards and judgments from. As far as Olkuna knew, the fox to whom one of these hides belonged still hadn't finished dying. She could not help but shiver slightly, as she was commanded to approach in her turn, after Ferric finished distributing best portions of the loot among his family and favored underlings.

Olkuna could not appear unsettled now. She was protected by her status as a Seer, and she was pretty sure that nobeast could recognize her as the former Seer of Juskalin, but her finely honed survival instincts told her, that right now she needs utmost concentration. She bowed deeply, but not too deeply – her current persona should not have had too many reasons to fear – as she stood before Ferric: "O great chieftain, Ferric Lin, the Taggerung, this humble wandering Seer, Yadara, is at your mercy and at your service."

Ferric delayed his answer long enough for Olkuna's heartbeat to quicken, for thoughts on whether somebeast saw through her disguise and false name, or witnessed her in company of woodlanders to start racing through her mind, but outwardly she remained calm, until he spoke: "I hear you, Yadara. Now, look at me."

So she did. Ferric Lin, the stoat whom she delivered with her own paws nineteen seasons ago, grew up magnificently. He wasn't the tallest or the brawniest, or the handsomest stoat around. His half-brother Ogon, that brute who wielded his axe on the battlefield with such an effect, was a hulking tower of muscle, and his other half-brother, Agutai the bowbeast, was the best-looking mustelid Olkuna had ever seen. Yet even with beasts like those guarding him on both sides, Ferric stood out. From ears to tailtip he exuded the feeling of health and energy, and though his seasons still were few for a chieftain, the air of authority around him was almost palpable. The fur on his face, bright reddish, instead of normal stoat brown, bore the wide ochre stripes of Juskalin, from nose to ears, and below them, under the prominent cheekbones, there were blue marks of lightning – signs of the Taggerung. A bright golden torque decorated Ferric's sinewy neck. Though the evening was fairly cold, he wore no shirt or cloak, only a kilt – simply cut and unadorned, but made of precious red cloth – held in place by a snakeskin belt. His right paw rested on the carved bone hilt of a long, curved, well-polished sword. No battle scars marred Ferric's muscular body, or at least none that his thick fur could not conceal. But what Olkuna remembered the most were his eyes, bright and unblinking. Later she decided that their color was perhaps closer to bright green than to bright grey, but for now she was too busy keeping her cool and maintaining a servile, pleading expression under this piercing stare.

"No, you are not that Seer," said Ferric after a few moments of consideration, leaving Olkuna more puzzled than anything. Ferric saw that. "When I will meet the Seer worthy to be my own companion and advisor, I will recognize that Seer in a single look, that was revealed to me in my dreams, and in words of a dying wise beast."

He smiled slightly, and shifted a bit, placing himself more comfortably on his grisly seat. "But the Taggerung respects all Seers, even if only one is worthy to walk besides him. Nonge, give this vixen a good, warm cloak from our loot, and if she desires to go on with her wanderings, she can pack herself a bag of vittles as well."

The stoat female with the fresh face of a barely fully-grown creature, sharp features resembling that of Ferric, her half-brother, and sinewy body of an adult warrior, moved to fulfill his order.

"Wait a moment." Another stoat female, who stood to the right of Ferric made a step forward. Now, this creature Olkuna recognized even before asking one of Juskalin fighters who she was. Zayrha was still young, not much older than her daughter was now, when the vixen last saw her, so it was no wonder that she still remained vigorous, and beautiful. Her face, however, grew hard and stern with seasons, and she looked at Olkuna as if she was half a second away from baring her fangs in a full snarl.

Ferric looked at his mother questioningly. Olkuna bowed her head again in a gesture of deference. She was proud of her skillful disguise, it even warped her own scent with stronger stinks. But she knew that even the best of disguises were only good insofar as they could prevent and deflect suspicion. Purposeful scrutiny by a remotely observant creature would quickly reveal that she's much younger that she's pretending, her back is not actually bent and hunched, her teeth are merely blackened to make them seem bad… Good thing that Olkuna too now had seasons and experience on her side:

"How may I serve the honored wife of the conquering Ferric Lin, the Taggerung?"

All beasts, but particularly those full of themselves, enjoyed to see others in error, so, as she expected, Ferric chuckled: "You're bowing to my mother, Zayrha Lin, vixen. Mother, do you want something from this creature?"

"Hmph. Just to give a reminder." Zayrha's tone softened slightly. All adult females also liked to be seen as younger than they are, and if there was any faint association in Zayrha's mind between Olkuna, the young Seer of old Juskalin, and the ragged vixen standing before her now, it was hopefully gone. "Spread the world of the Taggerung's greatness as you travel. Tell Juska the truth. Tell them that Ferric Lin is mighty in battle, respectful of all Seers, and generous to his warriors, sharing whatever he plunders with them. Tell them that he is the only true Taggerung."

Before Olkuna could assure, as obsequiously as possible, that she most certainly will, Ferric suddenly continued from where Zayrha stopped. "No, Mother. You said truth about me. But any great Juska chieftain is mighty in battle, respectful of Seers and generous to his warriors."

He bent forwards, pointing his sharp claw at Olkuna. "Tell them, that one day soon Ferric Lin Taggerung will extend his sword from sea to endless sea. Not only Juska, but all the tribes and peoples of forest, hill and mountain, all the beasts who live under the eternal sky will be gathered to his banners, and all the walls behind which cowards and prey creatures hide will be torn down. Then those with the wisdom to join him early will be exalted above others, and those foolish enough to stand against him will be trampled into dust. Now go, and tell this to all the Juska you meet. Tell them, that they have to choose."

Olkuna was grateful that this time occasion seemed proper to let her true feelings out and shudder visibly.