Welcome back to Silvanus and Empire! Last time we met Scribe Oren, Caddoc's new master - and someone who's been around in Annex for a long time. But now, it's time to learn about what's going on across the river...
Silvanus and Empire
Chapter Four
image from MiriaDNA
Across from the town of Annex, on the northern banks of the river, the land was still wild and untamed. Evergreens, dark and thick with needles, stood like silent, tireless sentinels as they were stirred gently by the wind.
The line of trees returned to stillness as the wind died, and as they did so Sight-of-Eagles crept away from where he had hidden himself among them and retreated deeper into the forest. Lost One had moved beyond the range of even his keen eyes, so it was high time he returned.
He stole softly from tree to tree, moving silently across the damp earth. The dirt-and-moss-covered deerskins he had cloaked himself with aided his camouflage; to an outside observer, it looked as though the forest had come to life and was slowly creeping off.
As sharp as his eyes were however, Sight-of-Eagles didn't possess particularly exceptional hearing; he didn't hear Mousestep creeping up behind him until she pressed her dagger to the small of his back. "Game over, little brother," she murmured in his ear.
Sight-of-Eagles laughed, turning around to face Mouse. "One of these days, little sister, I will sneak past you." He pulled back his hood. His crimson hair tumbled down to his shoulders, and he grinned into Mouse’s face, so much like his own.
"That will be the day I die, little brother, for I'd have to be dead in order not to hear your great moose feet come stomping along."
She matched his grin, but only for a moment. "Father is meeting with her again today. They've been in the clearing all morning."
Sight-of-Eagles' face dropped. "That makes it the third time this moon alone. I don't like this, Mouse. I don't like it at all." He shook his head. "Come on, I'd better go tell him what I've seen this day."
Hammerfist watched as his children emerged from the treeline and made their way across the clearing. Their fiery hair, the birthright of all Silvani, gleamed in the afternoon sunlight. His heart soared to see them in the flower of youth - strong and filled with energy - and he thought silently: their mother would be proud. He turned and addressed the woman sitting next to him.
"Do you see the future, Spirit? I do. I see it even as we wait here, in my children as they come towards us. It is for them that I do what I do. For the future of our people, and our children."
Spirit-of-Vengeance smiled inscrutably at him in return. He could never pin her age down; depending on how the sunlight hit her there seemed sometimes more grey in her hair than red, yet her skin showed none of the ravages of time. Her voice moreover was as timeless as her appearance. "I see the future, Hammerfist," she murmured, gazing at him with half-lidded eyes. Her hands rested in her lap, and her hair fell in long unbroken ringlets down to her waist. She was garbed much as he was - in the customary deerskins their people wore in early spring, dyed to blend in with the forest - yet while Hammerfist’s clothes had the appearance of being worn for years and years, her simple skirt and bodice were free of any dirt or holes, as was the shawl she wore across her shoulders. Even her soft leather boots seemed bereft of mud.
"I see the future," she repeated. "I see it spread before us like a grand tapestry, and in it there is no room for those who dwell across the river from us. There is no place for Stoneheart's people in our future, not if it is to be one of security and peace and of the deep green forests of Silvanus." She looked away from Hammerfist's gaze and stared off to the horizon - sadly, it seemed to him - for a moment. "Would it were not so."
Sight-of-Eagles and his sister arrived within earshot just then, and the two older people turned to greet them. "Welcome, my children," Hammerfist said, rising from the tree stump he'd been sitting on. Spirit remained seated, surveying the newcomers silently. "What have you seen?"
"Father," Sight-of-Eagles began, lowering his gaze for a moment in deference. "Mouse and I have done as you asked. Lost One is most undoubtedly there. We saw her today as she spoke with one of the Stonehearted. Her hair was as bright as ours."
"How old was she?" Spirit had leaned forward on her own tree stump. Her eyes were bright beneath narrowed brows. "Speak, child, and quickly. Was she young?"
Hesitant, Sight-of-Eagles looked over at Hammerfist. He nodded to his son, and Sight-of-Eagles turned to address Spirit. Mouse shifted beside her brother. "Young," he said, "but of childbearing age."
Spirit leaned back. Her body was visibly tense. "It could be her," she breathed. She looked over at Hammerfist. "But we must be sure. She must be brought before me."
"And how do you propose we do that?" Mouse sputtered. "Just swim across the river and invite her over the next time we go hunting? Perhaps we should just gather the tribes and launch a few hundred blazing arrows at the Stonehearts and hope won’t burn?”
"Mouse." Her father glowered at her. "Spirit-of-Vengeance is my guest, and you shall give her the respect she deserves." His voice was quiet, but stern.
Mousestep sighed. "Yes, Father," she said meekly. She lowered her gaze. "I am sorry. Please forgive me, guest-of-my-father."
Sight shook her head. "There is nothing to forgive, young one." She smiled thinly. "I know how hard both you and your brother have been toiling at the tasks your father and I have given to you. Know that they shall end soon. But know also that Lost One must be brought before me. How that is to be done is beyond my expertise."
Hammerfist looked at her children. "Continue to watch her," he told them. "Learn her routines. When the time is right, when you have learnt when and where she shall be at all times, then shall you cross the river and bring her to us when she is alone. And you know she must be unhurt."
"Yes, Father," Sight-of-Eagles said. "We will do as you say." He nodded to the two adults and then left, a sullen Mousestep trailing behind him.
Hammerfist silently watched his children retreat to the treeline again. "They are young," he said at last, looking over to Spirit-of-Vengeance. "They do not know what it is to live an entire life under the shadow of the Stonehearted, as you and I do. They do not know what it is to lose someone they loved to the depredations of those across the river."
"I know, Hammerfist. But without their aid we cannot bring the fight to the Stonehearted. We need them, and we need the other tribes as well. But most of all, we need Lost One." She stood up, hugging herself against a sudden gust of cool wind. "We need Lost One; we need my daughter."