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Interlude: The hatching of a plan
Thus said Rhy'thnuk: Remember young student that in life everyone will see what you appear to be, but few will experience what you truly are.
Student: So a leader is doomed to be misunderstood?
Thus said Rhy'thnuk: There are many degrees by which one could be misunderstood. But those who know themselves avoid the deepest level of misunderstanding.
The ruminations of Rhy'thnuk
From the Summation of Ancient Thought - Volume 86
Against his feathers the moist air felt like a suffocating coat, invisible yet inescapable. In the darkness of the night the oppressive humidity was another reminder of the invisible yet very real obligation that lay before him. An obligation that clung to him with the same stubbornness as the moisture that was clinging to his feathers.
On the bright side, this should be simple. I let them know I'm here and figure it out from there. Of course, there might not be much to figure out if they just decide to kill me, Bluntbeak thought, Simple definitely isn't good this time.
He practically threw himself to the ground as a small flyer erupted from the bushes, spooked by his silent movement. In a few moments the only testament to the sudden surprise was the racing heart pounding in his chest.
Okay, so how do I get these guys to know I'm here and not kill me on sight? Bluntbeak pondered, Maybe if I make myself really obvious then act as unthreatening as I can...
Bluntbeak let out a high-pitched call that was impossible not to hear and waved his arms. Once he thought he heard something in the distance he sat down and waited.
Should I lay down or sit down? No one ever taught me how to walk into certain death and welcome it with open arms.
The sounds that he had heard previously faded into nothingness as soon as he tried to focus on them. Perhaps he had merely heard things?
He snorted as he looked down in exasperation. Should I sing them a song? Surely they must know I am here by now.
"Should we kill him, sir?"
Yep, I'm dead, Bluntbeak thought, staring at the spears that had suddenly appeared in front of his face.
"Somehow I highly doubt that an attacker would give an alert call and sit down in front of our lands."
Bluntbeak watched in a mixture of fascination and terror as another hidden runner walked behind the spear-holders. By his demeanor and expression he could tell that this was a deputy of some kind. A deputy who knew an anomaly when he saw one.
Despite the necessity of the situation, Bluntbeak was finding it hard to leave up to his name in that very moment.
"I have a message for Ignis," Bluntbeak finally forced himself to say. He was quite proud that he managed to say it clearly and without stammering despite the dangerous situation he was in.
He was greeted with a few sniffs from the larger male. "You smell like you are from one of the river packs. Not one of us."
The spears at his neck now pressed against his skin.
The deputy glared at him. "Who sent you?"
"Wrok sent me," Bluntbeak replied, finally living up to his name. If I'm going to die, I might as well make sure these guys know they're idiots.
He was surprised when the spears left his neck as the deputy gave a single wave of his arm and a groan of annoyance.
"What is your name, messenger?"
"Bluntbeak. My name is Bluntbeak."
The deputy needlessly gestured for him to follow as spears blocked Bluntbeak's path backwards and to either side.
"Well then, Bluntbeak, let's not keep your message waiting. But keep one thing in mind."
"Keep what in mind?" Bluntbeak asked, morbidly curious.
He was greeted with heated breath in his ear.
"If my leader gives the command, then it will be my pleasure to adorn your screaming, bleeding body upon our spears as a warning to whatever piece of filth Wrok sends our way next."
Bluntbeak paused. I really hope he sticks to orders. This guy seems a bit too eager to kill me.
The deputy made a mock bow as he gestured forward. "After you."
Bluntbeak walked forward, though he kept track of where the deputy was at all times.
"What's going on?" Penol asked, having noticed some commotion and rushed to a guard to figure out whether or not to inform Ignis.
The guard, startled, went to grab his spear before he noticed it was Penol who asked the question. "Apologies, ma'am. It looks like we have a messenger from the enemy."
"Brantus, take over outer security!"
The guard did not wait for clarification as the orders from Dravos rang in his ears, "Yes, sir!"
The Left Claw's feet clicked against the ground with an almost predatory cadence as he examined the scene that lay before them. The messenger who was being led almost like a prisoner, and the pack which was now as awake and alive as during the peak of the Bright Circle's daily cycle.
As one plan died another took its place.
"We both will need to listen to these proceedings," Dravos noted to the younger female.
"What do you think it's about?" Penol asked, having trouble imagining why Wrok would send a messenger.
Dravos tilted his head slightly as the two began to walk towards the cavern in an effort to beat the messenger to the private audience. "It is doubtful that it is an offering of mating, like Questor is fond of sending. The other distinct possibilities - that of a truce and an offer of alliance against Questor - would probably not be in Wrok's best interests at the moment. So I would assume this messenger is meant to play mind-games with our Dear Leader."
"That's a strategy?" Penol asked, surprised.
Dravos turned towards the female with an unreadable expression. "It is a strategy that is used to hide other strategies. The opponent who chases your shadow will miss you."
"Like acting like you're doing one thing then doing something completely different?" Penol asked.
The Left Claw's head cocked in the slightest hint of contentment. "Exactly. I suspect Wrok is also trying to get any information at all. Ignis's emotions. Which of her advisors are present in the meeting. Anything out of the ordinary."
As they entered the threshold of the cavern he whispered into her ear. "There is one thing that should give you pause, though."
Penol froze. "What?"
Dravos's beak turned into the slightest hint of a smirk. "Why did Wrok send an obviously new messenger for such an important mission?"
"He does look kind of nervous," Penol noted as the messenger and his escorts continued their approach to Ignis's cave.
She turned to look at Dravos for confirmation, only to see that he had already taken his place at the leader's side. It was then that she realized that she was standing right in the middle of the entrance into the cavern that the messenger would need to take.
Penol barely contained a panicked yelp before darting to one of the darker corners of the cavern where she probably should have been quite a while ago.
She barely had time to press against the cavern wall when a rather stern-looking guard entered the chamber as if he were waiting for something.
It was then that Penol noted the look on her cousin's face as Ignis gave a nod. "Bring in the messenger."
Better him than me, Penol thought.
Though the darkness of the cavern was almost complete in the darkness of the night, Penol could see Bluntbeak enter the chamber hesitantly before awkwardly stopping in the center of the chamber. It was as if he did not know how close to approach the leader. But finally reaching the proper distance for a messenger, where messengers would typically bow, he stood firm.
It was enough to make Penol gasp in shock. I can't figure out whether he's deliberately trying to be insulting or is just clueless. I at least knew enough to try to act respectful as a kid. Not that I knew how, but I did try.
Several of the guards at the threshold tightened their grips on their weapons at the display.
That was when the proceedings were interrupted by laughter.
The Great Leader smirked as she examined the messenger from her scrape. "Not even the nod given to equals. Well, well, no offense, dear messenger, but I think I prefered Wrok's previous messenger. Do you happen to know what has become of him?"
I'm not sure I want to know, Penol thought.
Bluntbeak kept his expression neutral as gestured at a guard's spear. "Dear Leader, I regret to inform you that the previous messenger was killed in the battle that shamed your leadership. I am his replacement."
And if you don't learn some manners, Wrok's going to have to replace you, Penol thought, equally indignant and concerned.
Ignis leaned back. "And it seems that Wrok has ordered you to show me the least possible respect, I take it?"
Bluntbeak hesitated a moment as his eyes darted in the slightest hint of fear.
"I thought as much. Let's get this over with then for both our sakes. What message does my esteemed not-so-loyal subject wish to convey," Ignis asked almost dismissively as she examined her claws.
Um, what just happened? Penol thought in confusion. Ignis's response to the messenger had been surprising for her, confusing actually.
The messenger hesitated upon seeing the situation turned on its head. It was both relieving to no longer have his disrespect be the center of attention and confusing to be outplayed by the leader of words herself.
Finally he stepped forward and focused his eyes upon her as he spoke.
"My leader, and the true chosen leader of Fate, does bring you greetings from the Packs of the Rivers. He hopes that you have seen reason and will willfully accept your place as a mate of proper leader. He promises, of course, that your lovers and children will be well cared for."
He turned towards the Left Claw. "Except for you, of course, you must be killed as tradition demands."
Dravos merely gave a nod as if the news did not faze him at all.
Ignis yawned. "Would it surprise you to learn that my answer is still 'no'?"
Bluntbeak shook his head. "Not at all. Wrok merely demanded that I present the offer again because he wished to annoy you."
How long does this stupid messenger expect to live? Penol wondered, Cousin or not, I probably would be dragged off and beaten senseless if I was this publicly disrespectful.
"The actual message is this: as you no doubt realize from your flyers we have successfully taken the river up to the Dry Lands, and we have killed the fastbiter packs and two-footers who resided in our lands. We would hate to have hidden claws at our backs."
"We would hate to have unseen claws at our backs," Ignis smirked as she responded, "You need to use less direct words if you wish to replicate Wrok's messages accurately. I would hate to have you turn out like the last messenger."
Bluntbeak was flustered at the sudden verbal jab. "I will work hard to improve my skills in the Special Ways, Ma'am. I would hate to insult you without using your full vocabulary."
"You see, Viscond?" Ignis smirked. "This is why our daughters need to keep taking lessons from Frenor. We would hate to have them run into this situation."
"You're enjoying this way too much, Dea- Great Leader," Viscond finally answered, glaring at the messenger the entire time.
Penol couldn't help but stare in open-mouthed shock. Okay, that's it. I'm done. If this is considered part of appropriate behavior, I am too confused to figure it out. Just... how? She just couldn't figure out why Ignis was treating all this like it was a big joke.
"Are you confused, Penol?"
"Ma'am?" Penol asked, startled out of her thoughts. She hurriedly gave an apologetic bow.
Ignis smiled. "I think that I need to explain it to our messenger anyway, so please allow me to elaborate."
She rose from her scrape as she approached the messenger who now noticeably tensed up.
"This poor thing has been ordered by his leader to insult me in the hope that I would make one of two possible mistakes that would give Wrok an advantage. Can you guess what those would be?" She watched the messenger for a moment who remained silent. "How about you, Penol?"
"You could kill him," Penol suggested timidly, now rather embarrassed that that had been her first thought as to how the messenger's disrespect would be handled.
Ignis nodded. "Yes, and this could be used by Wrok to show that I am a unstable ruler by attacking those who talk to me under truce. The other mistake would be to accept these insults as a given and to let him go… as that would dishonor me and my people."
She walked to within striking distance of the messenger.
"Leader…" Dravos cautioned before he was waved off by her.
"Your leader used you, Bluntbeak. He used you in order to gain the slightest advantage in his battle with me. Does that sound like the sort of leader you should follow?"
The messenger swallowed audibly enough that even Penol could hear it as he remained silent under the leader's stare.
"What… what I should do is follow my vows, ma'am," Bluntbeak finally replied with defeat in his eyes, "What you do to me is up to you, but I will not turn on Wrok or my pack."
Ignis frowned. "That is a pity. With a good leader giving you a good message you would have made a good messenger."
Ignis turned her back on the messenger as she returned to her scrape and again sat down. "Was there anything else?"
"Just one final message, ma'am. 'Plots are like the wind. Only those that leave with the night can hit without warning.' He told me that those who needed to know what it meant would know what it means."
I'm definitely not one of those that need to know, then, Penol thought, That makes no sense to me.
Ignis sighed. "Lovely. Guards!"
Upon her command guards practically sprinted from the cavern entrance, descending upon the messenger from all directions as he cowered in fear. The deputy who had threatened him upon his entry into the territory now smiled at him with malicious intent.
"See to it that he is allowed to get water and food before he makes his return journey. We must show that we will keep the Special Ways even to those who would destroy them."
The deputy looked disappointed for a moment before bowing deeply. "As you command, Great Leader!"
What have I gotten myself into? Penol thought, thinking about her agreement to help Dravos in one of his plans, If I have to deal with something like this, I'm doomed. Despite her misgivings she watched in silence as the messenger was led out of the cavern as if he were one of their own and not a disrespectful servant of the enemy.
"So the last message was probably a subtle order for someone to kill me, correct?" Ignis noted with annoyance, "He didn't even hide it well."
"That would be my assumption, Leader. Are you sure that we shouldn't interrogate the messenger?"
Ignis glared at Dravos. "Besides amusing you, Dravos, what would that accomplish? The best messengers are those who send messages but don't understand them."
"Less chance of plots being uncovered," Viscond noted.
Ignis sighed. "Exactly. Now to figure out which hand will be holding the spear meant for me."
Would they even need a spear? A bit of orange death on the claws would kill just as easily. Penol was suddenly glad she wasn't in charge of guarding Ignis. She'd never be able to sleep again.
Penol had no idea that the eyes of a certain Left Claw were upon her. "Perhaps we could send a messenger of our own? That way if this messenger does know something, then we can pick up on the details."
Ignis rolled her eyes. "And what message should I send, Dravos? 'Wrok, you are cordially invited by the Great Leader to drop dead'?"
Dravos shrugged. "Perhaps something a bit more diplomatic, but based upon our current offerings that message would not be out of place."
Ignis yawned. "Take whatever volunteer you think is best, Dravos. But I doubt the messenger knows anything."
Dravos turned ever so slightly to shift his focus upon the young female in the distance. "I have someone in mind, Great Leader. Don't worry, I will take care of the necessary preparations."
I am going to be in so much trouble when this is over, Penol thought.
"It… is time then?"
The elder male did not face Greenshade as his spear hang loosely in his hands. It was as if he were staring at something in the distance. Something that only he could see.
"It is," Greenshade said almost emotionlessly.
The male sighed as he raised his spear slightly, making Greenshade prepare for a quick ambush before the male could get a chance to defend himself.
And then he merely tossed his spear aside and faced her. His face was nearly as unreadable as hers, taking on the solemness of a person who knew that they must die.
"Tell my son and daughter that I died for the pack, won't you? And not… removed..." his voice broke for a moment before regaining its steel, "...like this."
"I will," Greenshade promised as she advanced in preparation for the kill. She and her new followers had killed countless innocent fastbiters on this day without a single casualty. But, though the official order had never been given, she knew that she was meant to bring back news of one fatality on this day.
Demotions without death meant a continuous threat. Wrok had no need for those, and, if she was honest with herself, neither did Greenshade.
The condemned hidden runner broke her concentration as she began to aim at his throat. "She reminds me a bit of you."
"Who?" Greenshade asked in surprise.
The male sat down as he again looked away from the female, sparing her the need to look him in the eyes during the task. "My daughter. She has the same drive. I just hope before it is her time to fight that… this is done. She deserves peace even though the young dream of fighting."
He trailed off as he leaned forward and raised his arms to his sides in a gesture that Greenshade did not understand. "To be young and naive again…"
It took Greenshade a moment, but she eventually figured out the male's intention. He gave her an easy shot at his heart through the intersection of his neck and shoulder.
It was then that the male's breathing registered in her ears. The quick, shallow breathing of someone trying to keep themselves under control despite near-panic.
"If Wrok does this to you remember to tell your successor to do it this way… it is faster…" the male spoke again, but she was unsure if it was really for her benefit or for his. It was then that she realized how long she had been hesitating.
Incompetent or not, he didn't deserve to have the inevitable prolonged.
She gripped her spear with as much force as she could muster as she sprang forward, directing as much of her body weight and momentum as possible into the splinter of wood. She allowed her instincts to take her hands and the spear directly into where the feathers in the side of his neck pulsed with his life blood. In an instant his shallow breathing was replaced with a moist gasp as the spear drove home through his neck and into his chest.
A second went by as a second wet gasp, now joined with a gush of blood, escaped from his beak. She did not hesitate to pull out the spear in order to speed the inevitable.
By the time the third gush of blood left his neck, the body had fallen to the ground. The former deputy had fought his last battle.
Greenshade looked at her blood-soaked arms. Or at least that is what I will tell them.
"Deputy, we are sure the rest of the pack is gone. Should we…" The voice of a hidden runner that she quickly identified as one of her own stopped mid-sentence. She did not need to turn around to deduce what he had just witnessed.
"This was Wrok's order," Greenshade said, still not turning around.
There was a pause as the other hidden runner processed having his own suspicions confirmed. "Understood, ma'am. I saw nothing. What are your orders?"
"Report back to the pack. We have achieved our objectives," Greenshade replied.
Knowing when it was not time to linger the hidden runner bowed and quickly vacated the scene, leaving Greenshade with her thoughts.
She had never killed one of her own packmates before.
Wrok approached the assembled hidden runners with deliberate slowness as he scanned those present. Facing him were three dozen attentive faces with well over half of them having feathers stained red with the blood of their victims on this night of crimson.
He stopped as he approached a log that was nearly as tall as his neck, grabbing its bark as if his own body were too heavy to propel forward any longer. As if he bore the entire weight of the pack upon his shoulders. Then, with deliberate slowness he used his hands to propel his gaze forward at the pack that called him leader. In the pale light of the Night Circle their leader almost appeared to glow as his yellow eyes stared into their own, as if searching their very souls.
"My packmates… sons and daughters of the rivers… for many Cold Times we were a lost and defeated pack. Forgotten! Ignored! And forsaken by those who claimed to be our betters!"
The assembled hidden runners nodded silently in remembrance of the hardships they had endured. Even those that were too young to remember personally could remember Wrok's speeches and the grievances expressed by their parents.
"Two Cold Times ago I requested time… and that time was granted by all of you. Time to lick our wounds. Time to mend our hopes. From the roots established by my father I have grown this pack. I have grown our pride. I have grown our strength."
With each sentence the hidden runner's voice grew in volume and strength so that what had begun as barely a whisper now roared with the intensity of a threehorn's charge. No eye was closed in the crowd. No head dropped. There was only one focus of attention. There was only one pack. One leader. One purpose.
"One Cold Time ago you joined me as we began the most difficult struggle of our existence. The struggle of Fate. The fight to put Fate's rightful ruler upon the scrape of destiny. The fight to restore what had been lost. The fight to end the plight of our people."
His voice sank again, like the wind losing strength as it sailed between the trees of a forest, only to gain the character that came with the gyrations of the leaves. A cadence that commanded attention as if one's life depended upon it.
"The actions you have taken on this night will make the packs fear us, and will protect our rear as we look ahead to our next victories." He looked at each of the battle groups in turn as he gestured at them with his finger. "The actions on this night have avenged the fallen from recent hard days. Now our enemy's victories are hollow. The others know our might, and they know that allying with them means certain death."
The crowd stood silent, but the fire in their eyes showed that the emotional dam was about to break. Wrok knew the right moment to work his magic.
"Tonight, my friends, we have showed Ignis our true power. Tonight we have showed the fools that follow her what they risk if they do not reconsider. And tonight we have showed what we are capable of."
He placed his arms near his chest.
"Tonight, we have begun to retake what is rightfully ours. Tonight, we will be ignored no more!"
Greenshade was cheering with the rest of the crowd before she even realized what she was doing. Wrok seemed to have that way with people.
What was I thinking? Penol thought as she paused at the exit of the cave. The turmoil assaulting her mind was a clear manifestation of the uncertainties that lie ahead. There would be no going back from this decision once she put it into motion.
"Everything appears to be normal, ma'am. The messenger has been led to the stream," a voice suddenly called to her left as the guard briefly looked in her direction. He had mistaken her hesitation for a pause to hear his report.
She was the First Assistant, after all.
"Oh, uh, that's good, I guess," Penol replied, taken a bit off guard, "I guess I should probably check with the others. Thank you."
The guard nodded before relaxing slightly and resuming the important task of keeping watch over the Leader's cavern. His eyes gleamed in the night as if he were defying the night itself in the performance of his responsibilities.
Penol moved on to the next guard, realizing the best way to get away would be just to do her job. Fortunately for her, she was better prepared to talk to the other guards further out than she had been with the first one.
She was not prepared to nearly be beamed in the head with a small rock, however.
"Away! The messenger is not to be harassed!" A rather stern hidden runner waved away at a small group of youths.
"He insulted the Leader!"
"Some shit in his face would match his beak!"
"Yeah! Let's throw him into the marking line!"
"Shitbeak! Shitbeak!"
The guard raised his spear threateningly as the three small hidden runners. "The Leader has given her orders. Do any of you want to offer your names against her?"
The youths, now mortified at being called out, quickly dispersed from the scene. Only the final smack of a stick against Bluntbeak's side confirmed that one of their number wanted one final shot at the enemy.
"I saw that!" Penol snapped reflexively, showing herself to the others. She was quickly greeted by both the faces of both the guard and the messenger as the three little ones fled from the scene. As a result she was the only one to witness the obscene gesture given in her direction by the one she had rebuked.
The guard was nearly beside himself with mortification. "First Assistant! My apologies for seeing that. Some of the pack did not take kindly to our friend's commentary tonight."
"I think the one shouting 'shitbeak' might have a future in singing. He has a way with words."
Bluntbeak's quip was greeted by a glare from the guard as he tightened the grip on his spear. Though they both knew that he would not dare use it except in self-defense.
"Don't tempt me, Bluntbeak. A beating for insubordination might be worth it just to see you bleed first."
The messenger rolled his eyes, but said nothing more as he turned towards the stream and took a long drink from its cool depths. This left the guard and the First Assistant facing one another awkwardly, neither appearing sure of what to say.
"Um… there have been attempts to harass the messenger, ma'am, but myself and Slurge have kept things somewhat controlled."
"You might need a few more escorts for that," Penol thought aloud.
The guard nodded. "Aye. But Dravos has instructed all available guards to keep watch on the marking line."
"They think I am a distraction before an attack," Bluntbeak noted with some amusement before taking another drink from the stream.
"If so then I know which enemy I would kill first," the guard quipped back.
This merely earned him a suggestive tail jiggle as a taunt. The messenger did not even bother to move his head from the stream.
"And I thought those kids were immature," Penol muttered, not realizing the irony of what she was saying.
The guard sighed and shook his head at the messenger's antics. "My apologies, ma'am. He will be out of here soon, so you do not need to bother yourself with him. I suspect that if we did end up killing him, Wrok's pack would consider that a favor."
It was then that Penol noticed something odd about the scene. Where was the supposed other guard?
"Um, where's your partner?" Penol asked, irritated with herself that she didn't know the guard's name.
The guard seemed to hesitate for a moment. "He… um… is relieving himself, ma'am."
Bluntbeak's eyes widened slightly as he began to examine the guard closely with a sideways glance. All the while he was careful not to raise his head from the stream.
The Left Claw rubbed his beak contemplatively as he examined the young female. "The best option is to get the messenger alone and to suggest a diplomatic exchange - as he will think you are defecting. But keep in mind that everyone is not as they seem. When you think someone is helping the messenger simply say, 'I am a friend of ours'. Not only will you get in, but you might help us expose a threat."
Penol shook her head in frustration. "Why does all of this have to be so confusing?"
Dravos snorted. "When people are risking their own throats they seldom keep things honest. Honesty is the virtue of the naive and defended, not the defenders."
"Hmph… or the good," Penol quipped under her breath.
Dravos did not respond even though Penol suspected that he had heard her.
"I'm a friend of ours," Penol forced herself to say, shifting herself so that she was a bit further away from the guard in case things went really badly. She knew she was probably overreacting to dangers that weren't there, but she'd never done anything like this before.
The guard froze with disbelieving eyes as he stared at the First Assistant. It was only after a moment's hesitation that he glanced at the messenger who responded in rather uncharacteristic fashion.
He groaned.
"Act normal, you fucking idiot! Do you want someone to suspect us?"
The guard quickly snapped back into Bluntbeak's face, "How dare you address the First Assistant in that way?" before wagging his finger and awkwardly moving back into a guarding position, noticeably looking around.
When Bluntbeak finally spoke in a hushed whisper it nearly made her jump in the air.
"If you want to remain a friend of ours then I would suggest you drink some water, Penol. No one can fault you for taking a drink."
Penol did as she was told, falling back on how she normally reacted when she wasn't sure what to do. The water almost tasted bitter this evening, but as it entered her throat its crispness made a tingle go down her spine. Was that excitement?
"So you figured it out and wanted in instead of getting the obvious prize?" Bluntbeak asked, "I'm sure you could get mated to a high-ranked deputy for catching a traitor."
"You think my rank could get higher here?" Penol asked disbelievingly, "I'll probably die in this job."
This made the guard do a spit-take while Bluntbeak's concerned frown turned into a smile. "Ah… so your aim is for something higher. Ambitious. I'm sure the Boss will like that."
"How is this to be played?" the guard interrupted with a barely audible hiss, "I do not plan on dying tonight."
Bluntbeak hushed him with a silent hiss of his own before glancing at Penol expectantly. "What are your plans, First Assistant Penol?"
"I take it all you're trying to do is get some information back to your boss?" Penol asked, nodding at the guard.
"Perceptive," the guard noted without the facade of deference that was in place before. In its place was a more relaxed, less formal manner of speaking. The kind that one would use with a close confidant. "I want to topple the unfit wretch just as much as you do, my friend."
His posture did not change as he resumed his guard duties and gave a mock order for Bluntbeak to speed up his drinking.
"We do not have long," Bluntbeak affirmed as he proceeded to grab some of the fish that had been left for him, "How is this being played? We cannot afford to lose Kirea here," he said as he nodded in the guard's direction.
"I was ordered to go on a diplomatic exchange," Penol said, deliberately leaving out who had ordered her, "Would that work?"
The guard clicked his beak in surprise. "She would risk a cousin being in the enemy's pack?"
Bluntbeak, meanwhile, asked the obvious question. "She not only trusts you with being First Assistant, but she also trusts you with something like this? You must have her totally blinded… or you are full of shit."
Penol felt everything slow to a crawl in that moment. The gentle flow of the stream, the steady breeze in the wind, the soft sensation of her pulse vibrating her feathers, it all seemed to slow to a stop in this very point in time. Any wrong move here would almost certainly mean her death, with the guard claiming that the messenger took his weapon.
"A mission to Questor would probably fix things between my cousin and Questor for a time, assuming I ended up in his nest," Penol spoke despite the words tasting bitter in her mouth, "You and your boss probably want to make sure that he doesn't get me."
No one moved for a moment as Bluntbeak stared her directly in the face. "So let me get this straight… you have been assigned to go on a diplomatic mission to Questor, but you don't want to be his latest step up the rankings because you don't want to end up dead like his other playthings. So you want me and Mr. Cheerful over here to 'capture you' and take you to Wrok where he can fuck you instead and kill your cousin as the final sweet bubble on the top of the corpse. Did I miss anything?"
"Seems like your insulting Ignis wasn't intentional," Penol said, "Apparently you actually can't speak without being completely vulgar. Does Wrok hate you or something?"
"Yes to both questions," Bluntbeak noted with a hint of humor as he looked at the guard, "I need to relieve myself."
The guard quickly acted just as a good guard would be expected to behave. "If you expect privacy then you have another thing coming. There is no telling what you could get up to in the dark."
Bluntbeak snorted. "You just hope you can smear my beak in it and call me Shitbeak like those little ones, eh?"
"Don't tempt me, moron. Now move!"
Unsure of what else to do, Penol followed the other two hidden runners, trailing a bit so she could follow easily and not get lost.
"Dead Flyer Rock, Penol. We will 'capture' you there," Kirea, the guard, spoke into the night not directly looking in her direction, "Until then, you play along and have your guards lead you straight into our little ambush."
"Dead Flyer Rock, got it," Penol said in acknowledgement as she slowly walked away from the duo. It was only then that she noticed a familiar face in the distance, his face half obscured by elongating shadows of the trees, casting much of the scenery with a darkened void.
He merely gave her a nod as he proceeded to walk into the shadows in the direction of where the western marking line would be. But not even the stench of their markings could hide the foul stench this entire business left in her mind.
What have I gotten myself into?
Dravos watched for a moment as the female stopped in the middle of her stride and rubbed her beak. There was no possible misreading of her mannerisms or the anguish on her face. Nevertheless, he knew that he had no reason to doubt her resolve.
She has put her tail in danger. She has no hope but to go through with it now.
A trap of one's own creation was always the hardest trap to escape from.
The Left Claw shifted his gaze from the female as she began to trek towards the scouting line just as he knew that she would. In order to make this plot be successful he had to add one more critical component.
Penol's sincerity had to be beyond question.
It did not take him long to enter the long, yet narrow trench that had been carved by hand in the tough soil. Like so many of the Punishment Scrapes, it had grown slowly over time like moss on a dead log. Anytime someone violated the rules in a manner that did not warrant a beating or death, or merely needed to be put away before the Great Leader could decide their fate, they would be compelled to help dig the instrument of their own confinement.
He touched the cool, damp soil of the entrance with an odd, perverse kind of reverence. He had visited this squalor throughout his youth as he learned the cold hard truth of the machinations of power. It was here he watched as the previous Left Claw interrogated the occasional criminal. It was here we was made to witness what happened to those of his mental makeup who failed to have enough self-control to avoid mischief. It was here he had learned the old Leader was dead as they gave them all the necessary sharp rocks... It was here that he remained once the last screams had died down.
He sighed. Fate has chosen him in the end. In this burrow of painful memories and breathtaking excitement he could almost, for one moment, pretend that he felt like most people. It was only here he could experience life through the reminder of death, and it was here he would eventually be destroyed by the next leader.
He almost smiled at the thought of Peno perhaps being assigned that task. Fate did have a sadistic sense of humor, or so it seemed to him.
He continued forward with a sudden lurch as he pushed the sentimentality aside. Idle thoughts would do him no favors for what needed to be done with the task at hand.
He turned sharply as the trench suddenly turned perpendicularly at a clump of roots, before deepening from an open-air trench into something approaching a proper burrow. The air soon turned stagnant with the scent of muskiness and earth overriding all else. It did not take him long to find the scent of the three females or to hear the sound of their clawing. He did not need to see them to do his work.
He took a few steps back before clicking his beak. Upon that command a guard's spear dropped from the open trench to the ground below. In the dim light it almost reminded him of the time a sharpened rock had landed at his feet.
It only took him a moment to grab it and point it towards the darkness.
"As you know, you three have been accused of injuring a deputy of the leader…"
The reaction was immediate as the clawing stopped and the begging began.
"Please… we're innocent!"
"Deputy Galva knows that we would never put something in his fish. We just stole it, that's all…"
Dravos brought his foot down with a resounding thud, and the voice became silent.
"All three of you have been accused, and the Leader is most concerned about the accusations. But she knows that Galva is prone to excitability… and is not the most revered of her packmates. But an act of mercy here could invite similar incidents… and we can't have that, can we?"
An audible whimper could be heard in the darkness as the Left Claw motioned for them to come out. "Go into the light and hear your Leader's conditions for your lives."
As the three females slowly walked into the gentle light of the Night Circle he could see the desperation on their faces. The despair of having one's reputation tarnished by the wounded ego of another… the fear of being struck down as an example to others… the helpless of the pit that he recognized all too well.
"You… you are to escort one of our own on a special mission. No one is to be told about this. No one is to be aware of where you are. Simply take her where she tells you and then report back to me."
"We... we can do that," one of the females said, looking at her companions, "Right?" The other two nodded nervously in agreement.
"You are to defend her if she is harmed. But obey her orders above all else," Dravos commanded as he aimed the spear in a less threatening position somewhere in front of his feet, "Any questions?"
Silence greeted his ears for a few moments as the females looked at one another. Then, with an authoritative voice, one of them spoke for them all.
"When do we leave?"
Well it only took us a month this time so we are almost keeping to our original schedule. d-; In all seriousness though, Historian and I both thank you for your patience in waiting for our installments. We hope that the latest installment does not disappoint.
bryan mccloud: Oh indeed. I might have to make a "Chronos and Logos meets Mender" story as part of a Gang of Five prompt response at some point. It does have great promise in capturing the social cluelessness of the rainbowfaces and Mender's own awkwardness in one fun package. d-;
Keijo6: I am glad that you thought that the dialogue and interactions between Orchid and the children, and with the others, worked well to convey their manner of thinking and reacting to the situation they find themselves in. As for the hidden runner plotlines there is a lot going on which is part of the reason for this interlude to clarify some of the developing plotpoints on that side of the ledger. I don't want to create a story like the "A song of ice and fire" where one has to backtrack 100 pages just to remember why a character was important in the grand scheme of things. Though, admittedly, it can be challenging to reach a balance as far as complexity is concerned. The next chapter will return to a more balanced focus.
gordhanx: Thank you again for your interest in the story. You are quite correct that Leap and Dodger made it across unharmed except for the tiny biters being around. XD Though, of course, things take a more dire term after Purple Tail decided to bite off more than he could chew... or at least try to do so. As for your question about Ovie, the reason why it is a big deal for her to be around a male is the whole "killing babies that aren't yours so the female will go into heat" instinct that many species have. Despite the fact that Orchid is not the sort of dinosaur to let that instinct run free, even he feels the odd tug of it deep in his subconscious in the final scene, hence his willingness to again keep his distance until the children are at the Age of Safety as far as his instincts are concerned.
Guest: Thank you very much for the detailed review. (: It was quite fun writing Purple Tail which is a clueless fool in many ways providing both humor and terror in some measure. Additionally Historian and I both had fun in describing how the characters react to seeing a giant form of a dinosaur that they always assumed was rather modest in size. I am also glad to hear that you enjoyed the tiny biter segment as I was worried about how they would come across in terms of tone. In the end I am glad that the juxtaposition of them next to Leap's injury balances things out in some measure. As for Prizo's story, it is one that I hope has shed some light not only on how other characters have adapted and reacted to the situations they were subjected to, but also on the cultural values of their unique society. If they are still relateable while still being fundamentally alien in some way then I have achieved my task.
Thanks again for the reviews, everyone! (: We look forward to your thoughts on the latest installment.