Speaking Bones, page 24
The Agon slave grooms stared at her, dumbfounded. The Lyucu wolf-thane was speaking in the topolect of the Aragoz clan, an accent that, for the older grooms, brought back memories of the glory days of Pékyu Nobo Aragoz, an accent that they had not heard in many years. What was happening?
“Rise! Rise!” shouted Thoryo. “Seize the Lyucu overseers! Free the garinafins! This is your chance!”
The Lyucu had reached the defenses around Thoryo. Kitos and his warriors fought back ferociously. But the Lyucu were too strong. Another sled dog was dispatched; two ice tribe warriors fell.
The Agon grooms looked at one another, hesitating. Thoryo’s words awakened in them urges they had suppressed for years, rekindled a fighting spirit that they had thought long snuffed out in ashes. But what she was demanding of them was impossible. Like the garinafins, they had been subjected to too much terror and witnessed too many failures to believe that rebellion could ever succeed.
“Kill her!” screamed the head groom, swinging his club as he stood at the head of the Lyucu formation. “Kill them all!”
“Help us!” Thoryo’s voice was tearful. “Please help us!”
Still, the Agon grooms didn’t move. There were so many Lyucu, and the voice calling for them to rise was so alone.
A loud roar split the air. Alkir, with Radia on his back, charged through the clumps of reunited garinafin families, heading straight for the Lyucu overseers.
The head groom’s eyes widened. He cursed himself for not dispatching the recalcitrant bull to the slaughter grounds earlier. This was the problem with keeping alive poorly trained garinafins captured from the Agon. “Heel!” he screamed. “Heel!”
Alkir sped up, his wings folded back.
“Scatter!” shouted the head groom. “Mount up! We need riders on garinafins!”
The Lyucu warriors around him broke from the formation and scattered, but the head groom remained where he was. He had once been a great garinafin pilot, in the retinue of the peerless Tanvanaki, and he was not going to back down from a feckless Agon mount, a defeated prisoner, ridden by a slave.
He raised his club threateningly, eyes locked with the beast’s pupil-less orbs. “I’m going to enjoy skinning you while you’re still alive; I’m going to make it last as long as possible—”
Alkir opened his jaws, snapped them shut, and opened them again. A long tongue of flame curled out and engulfed the head groom.
Everyone stopped and gaped at the screaming ball of flames rolling on the ground: the Agon grooms; the Lyucu overseers; the huddled Dara captives; Thoryo, Kitos, and his warriors; the garinafin families; the sled dogs…
No one could recall the last time such an act had been committed. Lyucu war garinafins bred and raised in Taten never attacked their grooms.
Just like that, the mental chains around the Agon slaves and the penned garinafins shattered.
With full-throated roars, the Agon grooms picked up dung shovels, long-handled cleaning brushes, bundles of thornbush, whatever was at hand, and charged after the Lyucu overseers. The Lyucu tried to defend themselves, but they were vastly outnumbered by their former drudges, who had suddenly rediscovered the warrior spirit. Even with their axes and clubs, the overseers were forced slowly back toward the smaller, separate pen in which the elite mounts of the senior thanes were kept.
“Why?” muttered Thoryo. People were killing and dying, and her words had been at least partly responsible. She had not thought it would feel so agonizing, so awful. Why must death herald every revolution? Why did freedom have to cost lives? Why was it necessary to kill to preserve the beauty of the world? She would never understand it.
“Go, go!” shouted Kitos at the rebels. “We have to free the garinafins before Lyucu reinforcements arrive!”
With buffeting wings, Ga-al and Alkir took off, Toof and Radia on their backs. The pair circled overhead, trumpeting and lowing. The two garinafins were the most unlikely of friends: old against young, cargo animal against war beast, common flier enslaved to the Lyucu army against personal mount bonded to the Pékyu of the Agon—yet, as a result of their intense experiences and shared adventures, they had developed a common understanding and affection rarely found even in blood families.
In the manner of garinafinkind, the pair sang of the years they had flown from one corner of Ukyu-Gondé to the other; of strange sights in the World’s Edge Mountains; of distant valleys where the ancestors of the garinafins had once lived and where their wild descendants might live still; of grass seas too remote for the herds and flocks of the tribes and of salt flats where humans feared to tread; of dreams of freedom, dreams buried deep in the heart of every enslaved garinafin who dared to imagine a life without Man.
And the garinafins below responded.
Parents helped young calves, yet incapable of flight, onto their backs. Grandparents and older siblings lowed in encouragement as the frightened youngsters clung to their mothers and fathers. One by one, families of garinafins took off, heading for remote corners of the scrublands. Life in the wild would not be easy. They would have to defend themselves against ambushes of tusked tigers and watch out for packs of horrid wolves who might strike at night, while they were asleep. They would have to fend for themselves over the long winters, when feed was scarce and the storms brutal. But calves would no longer have to grow up in confinement, darkness, and terror, and parents would no longer have to live with guilt, heartache, and minds numb from scars inflicted by the enslavers.
They would be free.
The remaining Lyucu rallied to beat back the rebelling Agon grooms and retreated into the small pen for the elite garinafins. If they could mount these pedigree war beasts, they would be able to incinerate all the rebels in short order and still have a chance at recapturing most of the escaping garinafins.
But the Lyucu hadn’t counted on the lingering influence of their pékyu, who was by now only a few bloody smears in the smoky crater in front of the Great Tent.
Suspicious of the loyalty of thanes who had risen to prominence during the many long and glorious campaigns of his father, Cudyu had tried to counteract their clout by elevating his own friends and followers into the highest ranks of Lyucu society. But as he chose them more for their willingness to do his bidding than their prowess in war, most of the new garinafin- and tiger-thanes were not battle-tested veterans. (This was, in fact, why the Battle of Kiri Valley had lasted as long as it did. Other than Tovo, Cudyu could find few commanders who he trusted and who could also fight well.)
Thus, many of Cudyu’s senior thanes took to the air only rarely, preferring to spend their time on the ground in luxurious Taten year-round, leaving the affairs of their tribes to elders at home. Even thanes who did ride regularly flew mostly for sport or to terrorize the Agon tribes, but were lackadaisical in their military training.
It was said among the elders that pilot and mount paired for a long time grew to resemble each other. This was certainly true of the elite garinafins in Taten’s corral. Pampered, rarely ridden, and almost never called on to fight, these descendants of the most cunning and ferocious sires and dams, thanes of garinafinkind, had become as indolent and unready as their in-name-only riders. Even those who were regularly exercised acquired from their noble pilots an obsession with human status—after all, in Cudyu’s Taten, the pékyu’s favor, more than success in war, determined one’s place. A garinafin bonded to a garinafin-thane would allow a tiger-thane to ride her only reluctantly, even if her mistress lent her to the lower-ranking thane, and would outright spurn a mere wolf-thane, stinking of blood and battle-sweat. The senior thanes found this habit in their mounts endearing and in fact encouraged it as evidence of the beasts’ noble lineages.
Alas, the highborn war mounts chose this moment of desperation and crisis, when the Lyucu overseers needed their aid the most, to proclaim their superior nature. Certainly the garinafins were familiar with the would-be riders clamoring at their feet, but the garinafins were also keenly aware that they were lowly naros, little better than the drudges they whipped and drove to cart feed and haul water. Why, they even stank of common garinafin dung, just like the grooms!
The garinafins snorted, and, stretching out their long, elegant necks to keep their noble heads as high in the air as possible, they turned their noses away disdainfully. No lowly, foul-smelling naro was going to step on these heads!
The rebelling Agon grooms, rather astounded by this most unexpected source of assistance, laughed and cheered. Having obtained better weapons from the barracks of the Lyucu overseers, they attacked again.
The Lyucu, sensing they were doomed, ran to the tails of the highborn garinafins. Mounting from the back rather than the front was both dangerous and inefficient, to be resorted to only in desperate straits or by the unskilled, but the Lyucu were beyond caring. They had to get onto the garinafins one way or another.
The garinafins whipped their tails about like long-haired cattle shaking off irksome slisli flies. Some of the Lyucu screamed as they were hurled through the air; others groaned as they lay on the ground, crushed by the weight of the oversized appendage. The Agon grooms rushed up and bashed in their skulls, some jokingly offering praise to the garinafins.
The highborn garinafins, disgusted by the bloody mess in their once-pristine pen, lowed for the Agon grooms to clean up. When the grooms, instead of rushing to take care of their charges, simply abandoned the bodies and returned to the larger enclosure, the arrogant creatures were utterly baffled. They continued to moan and low, hoping the grooms would stop this nonsense and return to their familiar patterns.
The rebels ignored the useless highborns. They had a more immediate concern: escape.
Thoryo tumbled off the back of her sled dog, too sickened by the carnage.
Kitos caught her. “You’ve done well,” he said gently. For some reason, the ice tribe chief didn’t find Thoryo’s distaste for killing and fighting contemptible or cowardly. Rather, he sensed in Thoryo—though she neither feared nor trusted the gods—a connection to a realm beyond the mortal plane, as though she were a shaman of Toryoana of Still Hands, the god of the tanto-lyu-naro.
The corral—at least the part that used to hold the regular army garinafins—was now practically empty, as most of the garinafins had escaped. Only a few loners remained, watching the unfolding human rebellion with somber eyes.
Ga-al and Alkir landed, panting.
“The Lyucu are heading this way!” said Toof.
“Let’s get out of here,” said Kitos, cradling Thoryo.
“But the city-ships,” said Radia. “We haven’t gotten to the city-ships.”
“Pékyu Théra said…” The world seemed to swim in Thoryo’s eyes. She tried to push away the terror and revulsion that threatened to overwhelm her—more deaths, more killings, no end in sight. “… said that after Cudyu is dead, our top priority is to free the garinafins and get out.”
“But we have a lot more people with us now than we planned for,” said Kitos. “If we…” His voice trailed off.
Everyone knew what he meant. The ice tribe warriors and their dogs had been joined by the Agon grooms who had rebelled and the Dara captives Thoryo had saved. But with only Ga-al and Alkir to carry so many, their flight would be slow and ponderous, vulnerable to pursuit.
It was a repeat of the escape from Kiri Valley.
“We must all get out….” Thoryo fainted in Kitos’s arms.
“We need a distraction,” said Radia slowly. They both knew that the “distraction” would likely never return alive.
Toof looked her in the eye. “You should go with Ga-al and bring everyone to safety. I’m the better pilot. I’ll stay behind with Alkir.”
“No,” said Radia. “Ever since Thane Vara died—”
“We were both responsible for her death!” said Toof.
There was a moment of silence. Vara Ronalek, the Agon thane who had adopted Radia and Toof into her clan, had died during the struggle over the garinafin that carried the children of Kiri Valley. There had been no time for Toof and Radia to explain to her their plan.
“But we can’t both throw our lives away,” said Radia. “Someone has to get everyone out of here; someone has to help the pékyu find her children—only you and I know where we left them—”
“Maybe nobody has to die,” said Kitos.
Toof and Radia looked at him, uncomprehending.
Kitos pointed to the regular army garinafins still in the corral, those who had chosen to stay instead of leaving with their families, about a dozen in number. They had lowered their heads to the ground, inviting the former Agon slaves to mount up.
“I think they want to fight with us.”
* * *
With great effort, Tovo and the garinafin crews patrolling in the air at the moment of the explosion brought the panicked Lyucu host back to some semblance of order. Swooping and gliding over the leaderless naros and culeks swarming among the tents, he shouted encouragement and instruction, letting everyone know where they should go and how to secure Taten against the anticipated rebel assault.
It wasn’t unlike herding long-haired cattle, he mused.
Now that he had seized the moment to establish his own authority, he was in a position to dictate to the shamans and surviving thanes which one of Cudyu’s young pékyus-taasa should be the next pékyu—to rule with his guidance and approval, of course…
…or perhaps he would keep the white garinafin antler signaling spears, the symbol of the authority of the Pékyu of the Lyucu, for himself.
All in good time. All in good time.
“The garinafin corral is on fire, votan!” shouted the naros and culeks around him, pointing at the pillar of smoke rising in the distance.
Earlier, while Tovo was preoccupied with the frightened Lyucu crowd near the Great Tent, he had seen many garinafins taking off from the corral in the distance. The sight had cheered him at the time, as he assumed that alert crews were taking the initiative to fly off to reconnoiter for rebels. Only now did he realize that his earlier thinking made no sense. Most of the pilots had gathered at the Great Tent to watch Cudyu’s ceremony, and only a small band of naros were stationed at the corral. Who could have piloted so many garinafins?
Cursing his own carelessness, he summoned his crew and flew to investigate. Other Lyucu followed on foot.
The scene at the corral was pure chaos. The main section, where hundreds of army garinafins had been penned, was deserted; the underground cells, where juvenile garinafins were confined to ensure the obedience of their parents, were empty; dead Lyucu overseers were scattered here and there; the fencing and barracks were on fire; the only garinafins left were the highborn mounts of the senior thanes (most of whom were dead after the explosion of the burial box), and these rampaged around the smaller pen reserved to them, moaning and keening in terror and confusion, demanding that someone come and take care of them.
While Tovo tried to put on a brave face as he dispatched troops to put out the fire and muzzle the complaining noble garinafins, his mind reeled. Hundreds of garinafins, the very fount of Lyucu strength over the scrublands, all gone!
And once news of this disaster got out, the Lyucu tribes would surely view it as his fault—he had, after all, assumed command in the immediate aftermath of Cudyu’s death. And Agon tribes everywhere would surely rise up in rebellion, knowing that Taten no longer had the power to punish them. The scrublands would be consumed with war of all against all—
“Votan! Patrols have returned with witnesses!” Several naros, herders in the region around Taten, were brought in, all vying to speak with him.
Tovo listened to their reports impatiently. The herders outside the Lyucu capital reported similar sights in every direction: garinafin families carrying juveniles flying away from their former masters as fast as possible; no riders.
Tovo actually sighed with relief. Apparently the army garinafins had merely escaped to feral life and had not been stolen by the Agon. It was a small blessing, but he would certainly thank the gods. He would have to come up with a plan to recapture the escapees—
“The garinafins I saw weren’t like that,” offered the last herder.
“What?” demanded Tovo. “Speak more!”
“There were about six of them, led by an old bull with a crippled foot. The netting on their backs was crawling with Agon, Dara, and ice fleas. I saw as well some large dogs strapped in harnesses. They were flying slowly to keep pace with the old bull—”
“Which way were they heading?” Tovo asked.
“To the north, in the direction of the Boneyard.”
Tovo’s heart pounded and his mind raced. Escaping Agon and ice fleas… they must be the saboteurs responsible for this mess. And they must be running toward the rebel base!
“Summon all available garinafin crews! We must begin pursuit immediately. With that old bull slowing them down—”
“Votan, votan! Saboteurs are attacking the city-ships!” A naro ran into the corral at that moment and shouted, out of breath.
Tovo barely held back the urge to punch her in the face. Who cared about the city-ships now? This was obviously a distraction intended to secure the escape of the other saboteurs—perhaps with an important rebel leader among them. Cudyu’s dream of conquering distant Dara had gone up in smoke the moment the burial box exploded. At this point, the top priority was to capture the escaping saboteurs and find out where the rebel base was—
But more messengers ran into the corral, each with a report more dire than the last.
“Thane Tekal has left Taten, taking the baby Pékyu-taasa Yote with her!”
“Votan, three shamans are telling the culeks that the gods are angry with us, and we must reflect upon the errors of Pékyu Cudyu!”
“Thane Risli and Thane Cutakyo are fighting over Pékyu-taasa Rudia, each claiming to be her most trusted guardian. The pékyu-taasa is too young to speak, so the thanes are about to come to blows!”
