Good evening, Constant Readers, and welcome back to Silvanus and Empire! In our last chapter, we got a bit of insight into why Old Oren is such an irascible prick - and that there's some fuckery afoot in the form of a particular shape-shifting woman. Now, let's go back across the river and see how things are going on the Silvani side...
Silvanus and Empire
Chapter Fifteen
image from HD Image Library
Hammerfist pushed aside the flap of the large hideskin pavilion. “Spirit, we have had this conversation before,” he said, stepping through and inside into his tent. “We cannot risk all-out war against the Stonehearted.” He strode inside and looked around, spying an unconscious Caddoc trussed up against a tent pole. Someone had wrapped a blanket around him. “Is he awake?”
Spirit slipped inside the tent as well and glanced at the boy. She shook her head. “He wouldn’t understand us even if he were. Hammerfist, we know this land. We know how to use it. And now we have Lost One and the power of her bloodline. We can take the fight to them!”
“Our numbers are too few.” Hammerfist paced the length of the airy tent. Mid-afternoon light slanted through the smokehole in the center of the hide roof; dust motes danced in the shaft of sunlight. Hammerfist put a hand out and sent them swirling. “We might be defeated through attrition alone.”
“It’s the only way to be sure, Hammerfist.” Spirit stepped into the circle of light and took the Silvani chief’s hand. She gazed into his eyes. “I don’t want to spill the blood of our people any more than we have to, but we cannot simply harry the Stonehearted into leaving the river valley on their own. Surely you must see that?” She looked over at Caddoc. “They are determined, if nothing else. No,” she went on, looking back to Hammerfist, “we must break them. Destroy their desire to ever set foot in these lands again. They understand nothing but strength and violence, my friend! Force, and blood, and the cutting knife. We must speak to them in language they will understand.”
”That’s utter madness, Spirit.” Hammerfist shook his hand free of her grip and turned away from her. “We would become no better than them. Would you have us become murdering savages? Become monsters to defeat monsters? Is that what you want for our people?”
“I want our people to have their homeland back.” Spirit walked over to Hammerfist and put a hand on his shoulder. “I want our people to be freed from terror. I want our people to cease having to hide in the forest like frightened deer and reclaim their birthright.” She squeezed his shoulder. “That is what I want, my friend, nothing more.”
Hammerfist’s voice was cold. “And would you utterly destroy every man, woman, and child on the other side of the river to do it?” He looked over his shoulder at her. Spirit took her hand off him. “Will you have the blood of innocents drip from my knife? Would you have me shatter my flint against the throats of whole families? Whole communities?”
“What do you care of their families? They are liars! Betrayers! They are evil, Hammerfist: every pace of land they've stolen from us, every tree they've felled, is like a knife in our hearts. they deserve no mercy from us!”
“Is that the face of an evil man?” He pointed to Caddoc. “A man… barely a boy! And from what I’ve heard, your daughter’s only friend in this world. Would you have me kill him? His parents? His brothers and sisters? Trace his line back to the beginning and erase it from the sands of time? The rampage must stop. There is no honor in wiping out entire towns. No, Spirit – we drive them out through fear. There has been enough killing. Already I regret my childrens’ actions last night. If we can get ten families to head west for every one Stoneheart farm we destroy, we can have this entire valley back in our hands in a single season. It will be ours, Spirit – ours, and our children’s… and their children’s. Don’t you see? We can do it that way. We must do it that way. As clan chief it is my decision to make, and I have made my decision.”
Spirit sighed, lowering her eyes. “All right,” she said quietly, after a moment. “Very well, Hammerfist – we’ll try it your way. I waited nearly twenty summers for my daughter to be returned to me – waiting one more will not be much of a burden.”
Hammerfist nodded. “You show great wisdom, my friend. And a merciful heart, though I fear many would agree with you that mercy is wasted upon the Stonehearted.” He walked over and took her hand. “You’ve made the right choice.” He squeezed it, and smiled gently. “How is your daughter?”
“She rests now.” Spirit raised her head to meet Hammerfist’s gaze. “She has gone through much in her life, this last day more than usual. She is strong; she will recover soon.”
“Good. I would very much like to meet her. It would be very nice to see the daughter of my childhood friend again. I cannot tell you how relieved I was to learn that you had escaped the carnage all those years ago – from all sources I had heard you died with your husband.”
“I almost did,” Spirit murmured, and squeezed Hammerfist’s hand before turning away. “And to think, my poor Owl, killed by the very man he’d trusted with his life and the life of his family.” She looked back at the clan chief. “You knew we had decided to live on the south side of the river, did you not?”
He nodded. “Yes, I told Owl he was mad to try, but he was convinced that he – and you – could raise your family among them, bridge the gap between our two peoples.” He shook his head. “Owl was full of ideas. Would that he had lived to see his daughter grow up to be a strong and beautiful young woman.” His expression darkened, and motioned to Caddoc again. “Are you sure this one here bore the same medallion as your husband’s betrayer?”
She drew out a small bundle from the folds of her dress. “It is one and the same, Hammerfist. A twin of the shape that appears on my daughter’s shoulder. I could never forget what it looked like.” She unwrapped it to reveal Caddoc’s medallion. It glinted dully in the muted sunlight. “Owl gave this medallion to Longwalker to wear with pride as a sign of their friendship. The only Stonehearted since Jhosin to have earned that honor.”
“Yet he was the one who killed him.” Hammerfist shook his head. “And then this one appears with it around his neck. Well, when he finally regains consciousness, he’ll have some questions to answer I suppose.” He looked grimly at the slumped-over form of the young man. “He probably does not even know the significance of what he wore. Perhaps, when your daughter is feeling well enough, she can help translate between us?”
Spirit nodded. “I will ask her, yes, as soon as she has regained her strength. In fact, I should go see to her. She was resting when your daughter brought her in this morning. I thought it was wise to send Mousestep along with Lost One - your daughter seemed quite eager to slit this one’s throat, given half the chance.”
“Yes, my son came and told me afterwards. I haven’t seen him since… I hope he hasn’t wandered off. We shall need him tonight at the Great Moot.” Hammerfist smiled. “Go to your daughter, my friend – I’ll see that mine keeps from burying her flint in yon sleeping beauty’s gullet.”
“Of course, Hammerfist.” She nodded and turned to leave, her face serene. Hammerfist didn’t see the dark expression cross Spirit’s features as she slipped out of his tent.