Ranjar Sargos leaped out of the tree, flapped his wings and caught an updraft, which propelled him high into the sky. It was dawn and the sun was rising above the distant horizon, bathing the world in red flames. Sargos looked up and there were black ravens circling above him. Looking down he saw a great herd of stampeding beasts flooding the Pythagaros Valley.
As he glided closer to the earth, he was able to discern the true nature of the teeming animals-only they weren't animals, but thousands upon thousands of men, the two-legged beast. They were painted in war colors and carrying bows, spears, axes and all the weapons of war.
Sargos glided above their heads and they looked up at him. Suddenly they began to beat their weapons against their shields. It was as if he was the sign they had been waiting for and it came to him that it was his destiny to lead this sea of warriors.
At the other end of the valley there was a rumble like thunder; he flew closer to see another great clan of men wearing the metal skins of the dirtmen. They were pointing their firesticks and pulling huge guns behind teams of horses.
He shrieked a warning to his followers and raised his talons. The roar of war cries smashed against his ears like clubs-
"Ranjar, wake up! Wake up!"
Ranjar Sargos, Warlord of the Tymannes, removed his hands from his ears and slowly rose up off the thin mat he had been sleeping on. Where am I? The open door let in enough moonlight that he could see that he was inside the Chief's hut, where he had been sleeping since becoming Warlord of the Clan.
"What is it?" Ranjar asked.
"Ikkos has returned."
"Where are the others?" By the others, of course, he meant his eldest son, Bargoth, who against his private council had ridden off with the scouting party.
"I do not know, Chief," the sentry, said drawing back as if he thought Ranjar might hold him responsible for the bad news. "Only Ikkos has returned and he was on foot with many wounds."
Sargos brushed the sleep out of his eyes. "Take me to him."
"Follow me."
Sargos tucked his pistol into his belt and followed the sentry into the night. The Clan's longhouses and sweathuts filled most of the small upper valley and he could just make out another score of men gathered near the palisade's gateway. If none of the sentries have stayed at their posts, there will be blood spilled this night!
Tymannes from all over the Sastragath had come to this Clan Gathering, not as in the past to settle tribal boundaries or exchange furs and trade goods before the coming cold, but to talk about the great movement of peoples that was taking place in the lowland valleys and along the Great River. Never in living memory had so many tribes and clans been uprooted from their traditional lands.
Interrogation of the prisoners had told them little, only that many tribes and bands were being forced to flee their homes by the invading Grassmen and the Black Knights. Sargos had once fought against the Knights as a mercenary, and he had no desire to cross swords with the Order again. While the clans and tribesmen of the Sastragath had fought the Black Knights many times in the past, the Knights had not burned villages and slain whole tribes without provocation. Thus had the Gathering of all the Tymannes continued from winter into the time when the tribesmen should be setting traps, hunting and fishing.
I wonder if this upheaval has anything to do with my vision? Before he could mull this over, they had arrived at the circle of men surrounding Ikkos. A few held torches and he could see that Ikkos was bruised and shirtless. Several subchiefs were trying to question him all at the same time, while the Clan healers were cleaning his wounds. Sargos stilled their voices with a clap of his hands.
"Where is Bargoth?"
Ikkos shook his head as if dazed. "I left him with all the others when we were ambushed. He may be coming behind me. I don't know. The last I saw him, he was shooting his bow and telling me to escape."
Sargos mentally steeled himself for the worst. Bargoth had never been one to turn away from a fight, no matter what the odds. He was big for eighteen winters and could run, chase and fight as good as any warrior in the tribe; yet, Sargos had often wondered if he had the cunning necessary to make a good chief, or to lead his people. Tomorrow, at first light, he would send a party to find out what had happened and to see if anyone else in the scouting party had survived.
"Did you recognize the tribe that set the ambush?"
"No, Chief Sargos. But one of them wore the blue tattoos of the Great River tribes-" Ikkos broke off and began to shake with fatigue and cold. Someone passed him a blanket and he curled up into a ball.
"We will get little more out of him tonight," Sargos told the gathered clansmen. "Let him sleep so that he can talk to the Headmen tomorrow. You others, get back to your posts before our foes walk in through the gate!" The men trotted off as if stung by wasps. When everyone had left, Sargos squatted down in the grass and clenched his hands over his chest as hard as he could until tears streamed out of his eyes.
As he walked back to his hut, Sargos felt the presence of someone walking beside him. He turned to see the lovely face of Althea framed by moonlight.
He tried to speak, but no words would come.
Her fingers brushed his cheek like feathers. "You don't have to speak. I heard about Ikkos coming back alone."
He couldn't hold back the tear that slipped from his right eye. Althea's fingers brushed it away.
Her silence was more comforting than any words. Sargos knew in his heart that Bargoth would not be returning: the knowledge pierced him inside like a knife blade. Without Althea's support he doubted he would have been able to find his own hut.
He stopped at the doorway and told her, "Stay. I cannot be responsible for what will happen if you enter."
"Tonight you need a woman's arms, my Chief," Althea answered.
"But you're a maiden. I have lived many winters-"
Her hand came up and covered his mouth. "The maiden I was, I am no longer. If I am old enough to take a man's life, I am old enough to share your mat."