Razkar thought that any orders would be better than the endless, dread-filled waiting. Stagnation was no fit state for a warrior: they thrived, needed action, direction, focus. With the exodus of the Myrian Tigers, they had it again, relayed to them in fragments and visions by the barbarian witch who nevertheless had the trust of the Council.
But once they had it, the tremor of shock that pulsed through the city was almost as fierce as the unholy calamity before it.
The Blockade was ruined. Zinrah, citadel of the Ancient Enemy, was open to the world... and there was nothing to stop them spreading across the jungle like a plague. And while the news was enough to put fear into any honest Myrian, for Razkar, there proved to be an extra twist of the blade.
She's not dead. If she can survive... us, she can survive the snakes. She's probably hiding, or-
"Male?! Fuck're you waiting for, an invitation from Blessed Sodding Myri?! Into formation!"
Whatever fears and fantasies he had in his head, they'd have to wait. Moving with fresh purpose, he grabbed a few more handfuls of dried rations and stuffed them into his pack. Each warrior was to carry enough for three days at least; the rest the scouts would scavenge and hunt from the jungle as they passed through it.
We're going to need a lot, Razka thought pragmatically as he stepped back into the Main Square, the jungle will know we're coming from a long way off...
Hundreds of warriors were packed into the space now, all commerce cleared out, fresh bloodstains ignored and trampled by thousands of feet. But what caught the eye was the purpose of them all; the regimentation and the fact that these weren't just Myrians all gathered together. To barbarian eyes it might seem that way, but to Razkar?
His breath was still stalled when he took it all in. Warriors. All of them serving and active in the Taloba Army, outfitted with the best weapons they could get, arranged by Fang, War Party, Claw...
"A Tigress," he murmured, weaving through the crowd to find his Fang, "That I might live to see it..."
Strange sentiment, perhaps, but regardless of circumstances, Razkar was proud to be among the thousand about to march from the Gates. The last time a full Tigress formation, nearly a third of the Myrian's armed forces, had marched out from the walls, his mother had been younger than him. Such numbers of the vaunted Myrians had simply never been needed since then.
But now the time - and disaster - had come again. He peered over the bobbing heads as he walked and saw a cluster of females on the raised platform used for public trials. An endless trickle of messengers and runners kept coming and going, but that clutch never moved. They dealt with each bit of news, swiftly processed it then barked out replies, sending Fang Leader and lowly male alike scurrying off.
Misha. Jola. Rahi. Kreesha. Jakai. Legends among Myrians, dauntless warriors both in body and mind. The military core of their nation, gathered in the open as the largest assembling of Blessed Myri's soldiers in memory waited and fretted and gossiped and-
"Raz?! You hear?!"
Razkar clapped his comrade Oxil on a broad shoulder and gave him a quick hug. "Looks like we're heading to the Blockade, right?"
"Aw, and here was me thinking I'd surprise you." Oxil's voice dropped low and urgent as they embraced. "Your female? She is safe?"
Razkar nodded quickly into his shoulder, snapping off a whispered reply. "Tending to the blind and wounded. She's staying here, of course."
"Good." They parted and that flat, honest face took a proud form that gave an image to what they all felt. "More glory for us, eh?"
"For us females, anyway," Erama growled, sharpening her twin gladii for the tenth time, eager to put them to work and never missing a chance to knock Oxil down a peg. "You males can take what's left."
"Enough, all of you!" Rehkuna barked, not taking her eyes from the podium, eyes shining like a green recruit, sensing something. "They're ready..."
She was right. The clutch of Council members and Generals had ceased their discussion, embraced each other in turn. Jakai and Kreesha split off and stood at the head of the rapidly-assembled squares of warriors, all of them sweating and on edge in the vast square, now fixed on those two females...
Kreesha raised her arms and her voice boomed impossibly loud, rolling down from around the Square like a rock slide, piercing every ear and filling her children with fire and steel.
"We march, Children! With her love and her blessing! To reclaim what was lost, redeem your sisters and brothers that remain! We march, Children of Myri!"
Her hand raised high and as one a thousand warriors raised their weapons of all kinds in grim salute, from the bare recruits to the Council members.
"March, warriors of Taloba... and in our victory, we shall avenge Her!"
Jakai's voice joined her, almost trembling with emotion, and she was far from the only one.
"For Myri!"
As one a thousand voice and more echoed the words, shaking those hallowed stones like an earthquake, each one bent and resolved to die if it meant carrying out those simply, bloody orders. Long had they spent under a pall of fear and uncertainty: now the Dhani had shown themselves, given them a real, tangible force to fight and slaughter.
"FOR MYRI!" Razkar cried, tears wet on his cheeks. "FOR MYRI! FOR MYRI!"
March they did. In a long, thick line that wound and wound from the narrow Gates, a thousand warriors of Myri the Merciless poured from Taloba. It took a half a bell for everyone just to get out of the city, their pace swift. Archers and scouts, brawlers and the few Tiger Riders left, witches and mages, healers and runners, all headed by Kreesha and Jakai, inseparable and invincible. Drums and flutes and pipes beat out a steady beat for their feet to follow, and soon chanting joined them, so many and so loud it shook the leaves as they passed them
Razkar's face was grim as stone as the jungle swallowed them, sheer force of their advance battering a way through the foliage.
For Sacred Taloba and Blessed Myri, they marched. And the child of the Shorn Skulls added a private objective as his fang moved out, heading towards the snake pit.
For her, I march... and I will butcher my away across creation to find her.
But once they had it, the tremor of shock that pulsed through the city was almost as fierce as the unholy calamity before it.
The Blockade was ruined. Zinrah, citadel of the Ancient Enemy, was open to the world... and there was nothing to stop them spreading across the jungle like a plague. And while the news was enough to put fear into any honest Myrian, for Razkar, there proved to be an extra twist of the blade.
She's not dead. If she can survive... us, she can survive the snakes. She's probably hiding, or-
"Male?! Fuck're you waiting for, an invitation from Blessed Sodding Myri?! Into formation!"
Whatever fears and fantasies he had in his head, they'd have to wait. Moving with fresh purpose, he grabbed a few more handfuls of dried rations and stuffed them into his pack. Each warrior was to carry enough for three days at least; the rest the scouts would scavenge and hunt from the jungle as they passed through it.
We're going to need a lot, Razka thought pragmatically as he stepped back into the Main Square, the jungle will know we're coming from a long way off...
Hundreds of warriors were packed into the space now, all commerce cleared out, fresh bloodstains ignored and trampled by thousands of feet. But what caught the eye was the purpose of them all; the regimentation and the fact that these weren't just Myrians all gathered together. To barbarian eyes it might seem that way, but to Razkar?
His breath was still stalled when he took it all in. Warriors. All of them serving and active in the Taloba Army, outfitted with the best weapons they could get, arranged by Fang, War Party, Claw...
"A Tigress," he murmured, weaving through the crowd to find his Fang, "That I might live to see it..."
Strange sentiment, perhaps, but regardless of circumstances, Razkar was proud to be among the thousand about to march from the Gates. The last time a full Tigress formation, nearly a third of the Myrian's armed forces, had marched out from the walls, his mother had been younger than him. Such numbers of the vaunted Myrians had simply never been needed since then.
But now the time - and disaster - had come again. He peered over the bobbing heads as he walked and saw a cluster of females on the raised platform used for public trials. An endless trickle of messengers and runners kept coming and going, but that clutch never moved. They dealt with each bit of news, swiftly processed it then barked out replies, sending Fang Leader and lowly male alike scurrying off.
Misha. Jola. Rahi. Kreesha. Jakai. Legends among Myrians, dauntless warriors both in body and mind. The military core of their nation, gathered in the open as the largest assembling of Blessed Myri's soldiers in memory waited and fretted and gossiped and-
"Raz?! You hear?!"
Razkar clapped his comrade Oxil on a broad shoulder and gave him a quick hug. "Looks like we're heading to the Blockade, right?"
"Aw, and here was me thinking I'd surprise you." Oxil's voice dropped low and urgent as they embraced. "Your female? She is safe?"
Razkar nodded quickly into his shoulder, snapping off a whispered reply. "Tending to the blind and wounded. She's staying here, of course."
"Good." They parted and that flat, honest face took a proud form that gave an image to what they all felt. "More glory for us, eh?"
"For us females, anyway," Erama growled, sharpening her twin gladii for the tenth time, eager to put them to work and never missing a chance to knock Oxil down a peg. "You males can take what's left."
"Enough, all of you!" Rehkuna barked, not taking her eyes from the podium, eyes shining like a green recruit, sensing something. "They're ready..."
She was right. The clutch of Council members and Generals had ceased their discussion, embraced each other in turn. Jakai and Kreesha split off and stood at the head of the rapidly-assembled squares of warriors, all of them sweating and on edge in the vast square, now fixed on those two females...
Kreesha raised her arms and her voice boomed impossibly loud, rolling down from around the Square like a rock slide, piercing every ear and filling her children with fire and steel.
"We march, Children! With her love and her blessing! To reclaim what was lost, redeem your sisters and brothers that remain! We march, Children of Myri!"
Her hand raised high and as one a thousand warriors raised their weapons of all kinds in grim salute, from the bare recruits to the Council members.
"March, warriors of Taloba... and in our victory, we shall avenge Her!"
Jakai's voice joined her, almost trembling with emotion, and she was far from the only one.
"For Myri!"
As one a thousand voice and more echoed the words, shaking those hallowed stones like an earthquake, each one bent and resolved to die if it meant carrying out those simply, bloody orders. Long had they spent under a pall of fear and uncertainty: now the Dhani had shown themselves, given them a real, tangible force to fight and slaughter.
"FOR MYRI!" Razkar cried, tears wet on his cheeks. "FOR MYRI! FOR MYRI!"
March they did. In a long, thick line that wound and wound from the narrow Gates, a thousand warriors of Myri the Merciless poured from Taloba. It took a half a bell for everyone just to get out of the city, their pace swift. Archers and scouts, brawlers and the few Tiger Riders left, witches and mages, healers and runners, all headed by Kreesha and Jakai, inseparable and invincible. Drums and flutes and pipes beat out a steady beat for their feet to follow, and soon chanting joined them, so many and so loud it shook the leaves as they passed them
Razkar's face was grim as stone as the jungle swallowed them, sheer force of their advance battering a way through the foliage.
For Sacred Taloba and Blessed Myri, they marched. And the child of the Shorn Skulls added a private objective as his fang moved out, heading towards the snake pit.
For her, I march... and I will butcher my away across creation to find her.
