Chapter 2: A Warrior's Pride

Author's Notes: For my older readers: This is an edited/re-written version of this chapter.

After taking their evening meal, Hugo stood with Sergeant Joe outside the tent, watching the bright moon fill the night sky. In his hands, he held the rolled piece of vellum containing the message his mother had written for the Zexen leaders. The paper was light, but the scroll felt heavy in his hands. He'd never borne such responsibility before.

A dark mood came over him. "Sergeant, do you think there can ever be peace between the clans and the ironheads?"

Joe patted his round stomach with a feathered hand and quacked contentedly. "Who knows, lad. Nothing lasts forever, even hatred and war. Let's hope this truce holds for at least a generation, eh?"

Hugo stared at the scroll, suddenly wondering if he was equal to the task he'd been given. By delivering this message, good or bad, he would help shape the future for his people, and not just the Karaya, but all the clans. Whether there would be war or peace, everyone in the Grasslands would be affected.

He knew Mother's life had been torn by war – in the Grasslands, and in the Dunan Republic, before he'd been born. Mother was the bravest and mightiest warrior he'd ever known, but still she'd suffered defeat after defeat. The Karayans were proud, but people couldn't live on pride alone. The ironheads had never treated his people fairly. Why should they start now?

Hugo, Sergeant Joe, and Lulu approached Brass Castle on foot. Which meant Fubar was on the ground, too. The gryphon, as tall as a horse's head at the shoulder, fussed and complained at being led along by Hugo, but there was no helping it. As much as Hugo would've liked to ride his feathered friend all the way to Vinay, he'd had to agree that it would be a bad idea to show up in the ironhead capital astride a flying beast the size of a small cart. 'Diplomatic concerns', Mother had called it.

Sergeant Joe waddled along with his halberd over his shoulder. The duck clan warrior kept at least six feet between himself and the gryphon at all times, and cast suspicious glances at the beast every now and then. "Are you sure this thing is tame?" he complained once, when Fubar playfully snapped his beak at the warrior's tail feathers.

"He won't bite," Hugo said, grinning, "Unless you act like lunch."

If Joe was overly wary, Lulu was his opposite. Hugo's friend walked with a wide-eyed look on his face, and everywhere they went, the boy marveled at the sights. To Lulu, this was just a big adventure.

Wasn't long ago that you would've felt the same, Hugo reminded himself. The scroll he carried in the sack slung over his shoulder weighed heavily on him. But once they'd seen it delivered and gotten the answer from the Zexen Council, maybe there'd be time to see the harbor, and the markets? The thought lifted Hugo's spirits. He'd like to see the sea.

Hugo adjusted the weight of the sack he carried. Mother's message wasn't the only thing he carried inside. He'd been just about ready to set off on the journey when Jimba had taken him aside.

"Say, Hugo," the older warrior had said. "Will you do me a favor?"

Among the Karaya, children belonged to the tribe. Everyone took care of each other, and so Hugo, Lulu, and all the other children had grown up with a multitude of what you might call older brothers, uncles, and other father figures. But things were different between Hugo and Jimba. They shared a special bond. Mother had taken Jimba in, years ago, and Jimba had always looked out for Hugo. He'd taught him to stalk prey, how to shoot a bow, and how to wield a knife. They were brothers, in truth.

"Sure. You need something from Vinay?"

"More like I need something delivered," Jimba said. He held out his hand, revealing a small five-pointed star of iron, about six inches wide. The star was etched with complicated patterns surrounding writing in a language Hugo didn't know.

"What's that?"

"This is called a 'Pentacle of Knighthood'. It's sort of like a totem for the ironhead knights. There's a lady knight in Zexen by the name of Chris Lightfellow." Jimba said the name slowly, almost reverently. "This belonged to her father. I think she'd like to have it."

Hugo peered at him suspiciously. Where would Jimba had gotten to become friends with an ironhead? A knight, no less! There was a secret there somewhere, but he'd have plenty of time to wheedle it out of Jimba once he got back.

He took the five-pointed star and stashed it in his sack. "I'll make sure she gets it, if I can find her."

"Good," Jimba said. "When you do, please tell her that her father died a hero's death in battle."

Chris had a headache, and was trying not to let it show. Sleep had been late to claim her the night before, and what little rest she had gotten had done nothing to improve her mood. It did not help that Sir Borus had pulled up his horse beside hers as they traveled, and spent most of the journey through Zexen Forest droning on about all manner of inconsequential things. She did her best to indulge him. Compared to dealing with the Council, the knight's cheerful prattle was positively delightful.

Am I the right person for this task? she wondered. Why send someone whose blade is stained with clansmen's blood to oversee the armistice between our peoples? I am a knight. Not a diplomat.

The matter was, of course, out of her hands. The barbarians had requested that the Captain of the Knights of Zexen should be the confederacy's signatory to the armistice agreement, and so it must be. But her position as captain was untested, and though she had dreamed of taking on the role since she was a girl with her hair in braids, the circumstances that had thrust the position upon her so suddenly made her feel woefully unprepared.

"Is something amiss, milady?" Borus had to repeat the question twice before Chris snapped out of her own thoughts. She smiled at the knight and shook her head.

"Nothing of consequence, Sir Borus."

The handsome knight's brow furrowed with concern. "I don't like to see your face twisted with such worry, milady." Spots of color appeared in his cheeks as he spoke.

"These are troubled times," she said evasively. "It is natural to worry."

Borus's face hardened with sudden determination. "Worry not, milady! Our Silver Maiden has nothing to fear while we are at her side." He raised his fist in salute, and said in a booming voice: "After all, we are the Mighty Knights of Zexen!" The knight's call was taken up by their companions; Roland raised his voice with gusto, and even taciturn Salome gave a half-hearted cheer.

Chris laughed and cringed at the same time. "Please, Sir Borus. I really wish you would stop calling me that." Borus's reply was cut short when Salome cut in between them with his steed and turned to face Chris. Salome, the knights' tactician, was a dour-faced man with a bowl haircut that had been out of fashion since her father's day, even among the knights. Salome might not dazzle the crowds on the parade grounds, but his brilliant mind was the backbone of the knights.

"Brass Castle draws near," said Salome. "Since this is our last chance to speak freely before we shall be among the eyes and ears of the Council, there is something I wish to say."

"Please, speak."

"It is about the armistice. I have seen the terms as put down by the Council. I have little love for the barbarians, and to be frank, the wounds are still wide open, but if we are to have a lasting peace, we cannot afford to antagonize the clans."

"Are you saying we should bow to the barbarians' will?" Borus cut in angrily.

Salome turned to calmly regard Borus. "This is not a matter of choosing a winner and a loser, Sir Borus. It is about finding the middle ground. We cannot afford to make a peace agreement that will only serve to breed resentment between our peoples."

"As knights," Chris said, "it is our duty to carry out the will of the Council."

Salome gave a tight-lipped smile. "I am not saying we disregard the Council's orders. I am saying we should… improvise. The Council does not know the temperaments of the barbarians. We do."

Chris considered this. Her companions watched her in silence as they waited for her answer. Even Roland, usually aloof to conversations of strategy, had drawn closer, and the elf regarded her with open curiosity from where he sat on the back of his horse.

"The Knights of Zexen serve the will of the people," Chris said. "It is our duty not just to represent the Council, but to consider the needs of ALL the people of Zexen. And if we can help prevent a future war with the barbarians…" She sighed. "What did you have in mind, Salome?"

"Well," Salome said, and began to explain his plan.

Brass Castle. The great bastion of the ironheads. Hugo had heard the tales, and he'd seen the fortress rear up over the horizon as they approached along the road, but nothing could prepare him for the sight that met him as they stood at the foot of the east bridge leading into the fort.

He had to crane his neck all the way back to see the top of those walls. He stood gaping at the top of the wall, squinting against the light in the clear blue sky as he tried to gauge the height of the battlements and towers. They rose higher than any cliff he'd scaled. Higher even than he'd dared to fly Fubar.

The ironheads had built a wall to rival a mountain. Spirits, he thought. How can any structure be so tall?

"How does it hold together?" he asked. "Why don't the stones all topple when the wind blows?"

"The ironheads know secrets of construction," Joe said. "They mix a sort of clay that hardens as it dries, so the stones can't come apart afterwards." The duck clan warrior shook his head as if it was all too much to accept. Hugo supposed it was, at that.

The fortress rose from a flat pillar rising out of a deep chasm. An enormous bridge spanned the chasm, connecting this end of the chasm to the massive gates that led into the fortress. The gates stood open at the time, and a throng of people – farmers, merchants, and dusty travelers – made their slow way across the bridge, all of them waiting to be swallowed by Brass Castle's walls.

This was the crowd Hugo and his friends had to rub shoulders with to get inside the fortress. Hugo wished Fubar were with them. The big gryphon would've made the crowd flow more easily, but Sergeant Joe had made a good point – something about wanting to avoid the kind of panic that ends with people falling over the side of the bridge into the chasm. They'd sent the gryphon ahead across the chasm, to wait for them among the trees on the other side.

Ironheads guards wearing armor and carrying spears flanked the huge archway that led into the fortress. Hugo studied the soldiers as he approached, eyeing the strange, bulky metal armor and helmets that gave the ironheads their name. Soldiers – that was an ironhead word, too. Among the clans, all who could bear arms were warriors. In Zexen, it seemed only gold could convince men and women to fight for their people. Hugo shook his head in disbelief.

He'd expected to have to argue to get inside, but a few quick words from Sergeant Joe was all it took to make the guards stand aside and wave them through the gates. Past the gatehouse, Brass Castle's long courtyard more resembled a village than a fortress. Shops lined the promenade, and people in bright clothes gathered around fountains in tree-lined squares.

Hugo stared at the people. There seemed to be an endless stream of them. How could one even remember everyone's name? And the wares! Hugo and Lulu ran from storefront to storefront, goggling at the infinite variety on display. Some items he recognized, like knives, scarves, or belt buckles. Others he had no name for, and couldn't guess the purpose of. Lacquered boxes inlaid with ornate metalwork. Leather-bound stacks of scrolls glued together along one side, so that they couldn't be separated to be read on their own. Hundreds more he could hardly describe.

"Don't get distracted," Sergeant Joe warned. "We've got a task, remember?"

Lulu suddenly gave a gleeful little shriek and started jumping and waving at Hugo and Joe. Hugo's friend stood by a storefront on the opposite side of the courtyard, pointing at a colorful bunch of objects on display beneath the store's striped awning.

"Look!" Lulu shouted. "They've got animals made of cloth for sale!"

Hugo started towards Lulu. As he crossed the courtyard, he noticed a commotion coming from the other end of the fortress. A group of soldiers on horseback were making their way down the avenue, their horses at a brisk trot. A murmur of excited voices followed them where they went, and everywhere people stopped to watch. One of the knights, a tall man with hair that shone like gold in the sunlight, waved back at the crowd, his chest puffed up and a dazzling smile on his face.

Oblivious to the approaching riders, a small boy played hopscotch with chalked squares in the shade of a tree. The boy was in their path, but the riders didn't seem to see him. Hugo hesitated, thinking the boy would look up and see them. But the boy was in his own world, tossing the stones and skipping from square to square.

Hugo started towards the boy. As the soldiers on their horses drew nearer, he began to run. The riders were almost upon the boy when Hugo swooped in and scooped the boy up by the waist. The boy gave a yelp as Hugo pulled him aside, but not before the golden-haired man's horse reared up in shock at Hugo's sudden appearance. The soldier's face contorted in anger.

"Watch your step, barbarian!"

The boy ran off the moment Hugo set him down. Turning back to the rider, Hugo found that he and his companions had all slowed to a halt to regard him. The golden-haired man was accompanied by two other men. One of them was a plain-faced man whose expression betrayed no emotions, and the other was a rare sight: an elf, his ears long and pointed and his hair the color of lilacs. But it was the woman that caught Hugo's attention.

She wore armor, like the others, and she carried the sword at her hip as if she had been born with it. Her hair was braided into a crown at the back of her head, and its color was an even purer silvery white than the mare upon which she sat. Her eyes radiated command, and her face, smooth and heart-shaped, was as beautiful as Hugo had ever seen.

Hugo took his eyes off of the woman with some effort. Glancing around him, he saw that the crowd had stopped what they were doing to watch him and the riders. He regarded the golden-haired man. "What did you call me?"

From his high saddle, the man looked down at Hugo with cold disdain. "Out of our way, barbarian."

Hugo's cheeks flushed with anger. "I don't take orders from ironheads, you—"

Sergeant Joe and Lulu came jogging up to stand behind him. Joe tugged insistently at his sleeve.

"Don't be a fool, Hugo," the duck clan warrior hissed. "We're not here to pick a fight, remember?"

The elf with the lilac-colored hair guided his horse to the front of the small group of riders. "Listen to your wise little friend, child. You should be mindful of whom you direct your anger at."

"Child!" Hugo spat. "I'm not—"

The woman with the silvery hair raised a hand. "Peace," she said. "I saw what you did for the boy. That was a noble thing, and we wish you no harm." Her eyes slid to the golden-haired man. "Even we knights must watch our step at times." Her companion's cheeks flushed scarlet, and he looked down.

The woman spurred her steed on and continued down the boulevard. Her companions fell in step with her. Hugo stared after her, barely noticing the dirty looks thrown his way by the golden-haired man and the elf. She said they're knights! So these are the knights of Zexen?

Sergeant Joe let out a series of relieved quacks. "Thank the spirits. I thought we'd all be thrown in jail, or worse."

Hugo barely heard him. "Who is that woman?" he asked of no one in particular.

A man in the crowd scoffed loudly. "You don't know? That's Lady Chris Lightfellow. The Silver Maiden."