Lifeless, the che's body was cast aside by the gigantic man-bull. Perrif watched as he folded to the floor unceremoniously, flimsy as cloth and heavy as stone. The new eye torn in his skull gaped wide, gushing forth with deep crimson blood that spilled out onto the turf like the flow of water from the stream. Around her, time seemed to freeze; none of her people had ever seen the che bleed. And now, one was dead at their feet. They were flesh and blood, like her people were. They could die, just like those they killed; and so simply, too. They were not special. They were not gods. They could be disposed of.
Her vision of the truth in freedom was on the cusp of its fruition. All she needed was for her people to see this too.
A shock of noise cracked through the ranks of the che. The women called out in fear — some fainted — and the men leaped into action. The half-dozen other overseers that were working the fields were the first to approach Morihaus-Breath-of-Kyne. Two of them slung their whips towards the man-bull; he allowed them to strike and wind around his enormous wrist. He closed his massive fingers around the leather weapons and ripped them from the che's hands. He slung the whips away and struck out at his aggressors, knocking them to the ground. The next to approach slung his whip towards the man-bull's legs, wrapping around the hairy ankle and attempting to topple the giant. Morihaus-Breath-of-Kyne extended his wings, buffeting the che, and leaped powerfully into the air. With a mighty thrust, he drove his wings down and launched skyward, dragging the che into the sky with him. He tucked his wings in tight and rolled backwards, whipping the helpless che out over the fields. The man-bull drove himself to the ground again, landing hard atop one of the che he had knocked over. He unfurled his wings again, blocking the sun from the remaining two aggressors. The che barked at one another, trying to determine what their next move should be.
Morihaus-Breath-of-Kyne raised his arms. "Dost thou see now, those these elves call 'Nede?' Dost thou see that the words of the Paravant were spoken true? As the Bull, I shall stamp these monsters from this Plane, at thine side, as thine ally; as a Man, same as thee!" The other grounded che attempted to scramble away from the man-bull, but the Breath of Kyne grabbed hold of his garments and hauled him from the dirt. He suspended the che at his side as it writhed and called for help. "Thine age dawns nigh! Stand now, or lose what has been promised to thee!"
There were moments of silence that followed the booming call to arms. The che did not move, for they could not have understood the human tongue, but Perrif could hear them murmuring amongst themselves that fetching the armory stores would be necessary. A few of the younger che men slipped away back into the city, and the women began to work their way back inside as well. Perrif looked around at her people, unsure of what they might be doing in response to this situation. Most stood motionless, whether in shock or in awe remained to be seen.
The other che overseers sprung into action, rushing towards Morihaus-Breath-Of-Kyne. The man-bull prepared himself for the onslaught, continuing to call to Perrif's people. "Rise against them! Raise arms to them! Take from them thine freedoms that have for so long been denied to thee!"
Perrif drew her breath in short bursts as her lungs were made subject to the rhythm of her pounding heart. She looked out over the fields of men, silently imploring them to make a decision. Please, she begged, heed him. One man was staring at his hands, clutching his farming tool, knuckles white in contrast with his dark skin. His flat nose flared with his breathing, and the twitch grew more and more rapid as Perrif continued to watch him. He looked up and turned to where the che overseers were flowing from. His face was one of anger; his jaw was clamped shut with such force to sink his already skeletal cheeks to his teeth. With a determination the likes of which could not have been expected, the man reeled back his tool and cried mightily. He snapped his arms forward, and drove the wedge of his hoe into the chest of an advancing che.
With a thud, the che was spun around in a cry of pain. His almond-shaped eyes bore holes into the small man, a singeing beam of contempt and anger aimed directly into the human that dared raise a hand against him. But, the little man was undeterred; his frail, malnourished body was sore from the work of the day, and the day before, and every day for months and years prior, but his arms still raised the gardening tool before him in a challenge; his brow was drenched in sweat that dripped into his eyes, but he still met the che's gaze with a fearless abandon. "Our time is nigh," the man said, "the Paravant speaks truth." The che sneered, spitting a derogatory response as he readied his whip. The man turned and swung his hoe again, shouting through the ache in his shoulders and back as he slung the metal end of the tool towards the che's head.
Perrif pried her eyes from this scene at the sense of movement elsewhere, snapping her head aside to see a similar series of events unfolding in another pocket of the fields. And then, again, in another pocket. A handful of her people had taken arms against a handful of che; the thinner men with their light tools swinging wildly at the che, and the larger of her people striking heavy with picks used for digging rows of crops and the hammers used to drive fenceposts. One by one, the che matched with the larger men fell, but most of the thinner men were overpowered with ease. Their light tools were ripped from their hands, hoes and rakes that were mostly wood and lacked any real power to damage. But, as those men were taken by the che, their neighbors entered the fray to aid them. Now, the che were faced with two or three men at a time, wielding a variety of tools, and the number of men that were overpowered began to decline.
Morihaus-Breath-Of-Kyne, who had been fending off che after che on his own, let out a hearty bellow at the sight of the che falling to the spades of men. "Yes, mine brothers; yes!" He struck down a final che and leaped powerfully into the air. "This shall be the seed of thine virtue! This shall be thine deliverance!" He flapped his wings and took off over the farmlands, zooming low over the heads of the battling masses. "For too long, these elves have held thee under their thumb, and for too long thou have been too weak to free thyselves. But thou shall have strength this day! Thou shall have strength in me!" The Breath of Kyne somersaulted in the air and smashed down to the ground, crushing a che beneath his feet. "I am the Breath of Kyne," he bellowed, "and all who stay with me shall draw breath eternal!" He raised his fist to the skies. "On this day, we put an end to tyranny!"
The roar that followed was thunderous.
Immediately, Perrif was engulfed in mayhem. People, her people, were flooding in every direction. The women and children were fleeing from the entryway to the city, scrambling towards the fields and forests that surrounded the limits of Sancre Tor. Perrif was buffeted as the massive number of people that had exited the city initially, to see the source of the thunder in the clear skies, flowed forward into the open space of the fields. One woman crashed into her and spun her around abruptly, and from the origins of the stampede Perrif held witness to the emergence of young che men carrying combat arms. The young men rallied one another, cursed the Nedes that dared raise arms against their divine rule, and even cut down some of the women and children that were within range of their blades as they fled.
The Breath Of Kyne bellowed for the working men to heed him in a charge, and the men cheered for him and took at a run for the city gates. The man-bull approached Perrif and thrust his mighty hand to her chest. "Take this, Paravant!" He opened his fist and dropped one of the che's whips into Perrif's arms. He nodded towards the woman's shocked stare. "Take this whip and find more like it; arm thine sisters and fight with thine brothers. Man and woman both shall deliver us from these elves, it is not the duty of one sex alone." He stepped around her and continued to rally his support. Perrif looked on, terrified.
In her hands she held the very whip that had lashed open many of her people, and the blood within it was like lead in her grip. And she would fight with it? She? And her sisters, the women of her people? Surely one woman would be no match for a che. She stole a glance back to the fields, where the stampedes of working men and fleeing women had crashed together like cymbals. In the wake of the men she saw bodies laying on the ground, dead or as good as dead. Some were crying out in pain from wounds of magick, others lay silent in eternal sleep. Amongst them were the bodies of che, broken and bloodied from the barrage of farm tools. Aye, the che were mortal as her people, but it was her people's mortality that struck her now. How naïve she had been; being rid of the che would not have come without a price. But for her to fight, for her to offer herself to pay that price…She was afraid. She was the Paravant, the First of her Kind; she was the hope for all her people, the source of this push for freedom that was swarming around her. She had to fight. It was the will of Kyne.
She took off at a run for the fields, cutting through the turbulent crowd. She grabbed children along the way, towing them to the crops where the fallen men and che lay in the dirt. "Tell thine brothers and sisters," she instructed the young ones, "take whips to thy mothers. Find tools for them and bring the tools to thy mothers. Go, children!" The young ones scattered frantically. Perrif rushed through the fields, collecting tools and whips from the fallen fighters. She knelt by women who lay weeping over their dead mates, comforting them. She repeated countless times; "Would ye let thy tears fall and drown the service he has done for our people? Or would ye take his arms and continue his work? Kyne has called us to fight this day, even thou. Let thine tears fall in the wounds of the che as ye stand above them, so they may taste the pain they have forced on us for so long. Rise, sister, and fight." Every woman quickly swallowed her sobbing and took a weapon from Perrif's hand.
Frantically, Perrif rushed to where the women had begun to congregate, holding uncomfortably their new tools and whips. Perrif took a deep breath, closing her eyes and remembering the Breath Of Kyne's charge to the men. "Sisters!" When all eyes fell on her, she felt her throat swell shut. She fought to swallow the shake in her voice; it was her duty to bring these women in to the cause. She fought through the creaking in her throat and shouted at the height of her lungs, "Sisters, heed me! The time is nigh for our people to take our lives back from the che! Our men have shown us that our vile lords hold not more than we in strength or life, that we can overcome them! And Kyne has shown her grace to us, by delivering us her Breath to open our doors and grant us the light of freedom. I stand before ye as Paravant, the First of mine Kind, as proof that this change in history does not belong only to man! Face this truth, sisters! We are delivered by Kyne, our Handmaiden; a woman! Again, I stand before ye as Kyne's chosen; Kyne has chosen a woman! Dost thou not see what the plan for this world shall be? Men may be strong, but Kyne's name be profaned if women are to be seen as nay more than weak! It is our destiny, sisters! We are to fight with our brothers and lovers as equals in this era of change! What say ye to that?"
The cheer that rose from the assembled women set Perrif's skin aflame with ecstasy. She smiled uncontrollably as woman after woman thrust their weapons to the sky and called her name, "Paravant! Paravant!" She drank it in like honey, the sweetness coating her essence. She was compelled to continue, "Those of ye who are too old to fight, or heavy with child; stay with the young ones and tend to those who lay fallen but alive, or are sent away for medicine. The children must learn our healing arts, for until they can fight they must still be able to contribute to our cause. Young men and women…" Perrif looked out at the sea of small, wide-eyed faces that was huddled around the elder women. She softened her face and toned down her smile. "Ye, young ones, are our future. Learn well from thine mothers and fathers, and thou shalt become strong like them." From within the group of elder women, Jaan nodded to Perrif. Perrif saw her friend's gaze, and returned the gesture.
Perrif…Kyne's chosen…Paravant…She took hold of the whip in her hands and gently swayed the leather to and fro across the grass. She was all those and more. With a sharp breath, she moved her arm violently, a mimicry of the motion she had seen so many times since her birth. Though, this time, the snap of splitting air did not bring with it pain or hatred. The smell of singed leather filled Perrif's lungs and fed her bones with lightning. "We fight, sisters! Join the men in the city, and mark this world with our message; the age of our people dawns nigh!"
This time, the stampede never had a chance to sweep over her, for she was running fastest of them all.