We only had one major secondary island to investigate left, although we had yet to return to the Singularity Caul in force. Kris had done some raids to the Caul to get a feel for the place , but stayed away from the central caldera despite the resources there we really wanted to be able to tap.

  Whether Aerbax was still there was unknown.

  We still hadn’t reclaimed or challenged much of the Direlands. The Obsidian Plains were still off-limits. The Graveyard would require a concerted effort to clear, and Rytheran had abandoned it, so we had little reason to go there.

  Olthoi Island was a separate problem that was waiting for me to get to Seventeen. I was on the cusp of Fifteen, and Sixteen would be fairly quick after that. Then a long slog awaited to the landmark of IX Valences and what might be possible there.

  Attention thus focused on Marae Lassel.

  Word from the defecting Hea indicated that the Tumerok Overlord was consolidating more and more power on the island that the tumeroks who had been brought to Dereth had initially been deposited on. Apparently he was watching our resurgence with increasing trepidation, and his trust of his virindi masters was faltering. If he also happened to be experiencing unrequited dreams of freedom and independence and all that rot, well, strange how that works for a virtual slave race, right?

  If he also happened to be extremely nervous about the fact that the Prodigal Tumerok, Hea Rheaga, was seen often around Candeth Keep and with the Aun in Osteth, well, that was to be expected, too. The peaceful Prodigal Tumerok had some very, very powerful friends, and his example was another thing luring younger Hea back to the ways of their ancestors, yet to a greater level of power and understanding of the world than any of their ancestors had ever gained.

  Power greater than the first generation of virindi-augmented Hea could claim...

  Losing the support of your shamans was never a good thing for a tumerok leader!

  The problem was that on Marae Lassel there was a strong presence of both olthoi and virindi, the latter having fucked about dangerously with the former. As a result, the olthoi there had increased in power and aggressiveness with the complete withdrawal of the Aun from the island.

  The Hea were having problems. Someone who was not us or the virindi had come in to help them with those matters. Someone who’d had a hand in the island for some time, with it being a preferred place for their cultists and bandits to train up.

  Someone we very much wanted to wipe from the board.

  So it was off to the Hea on a ‘diplomatic’ mission…

  ---------

  We came across the strait to the island of Marae Lassel at Greenspire. Two Wagons this time, a full bore ‘diplomatic’ mission, with a whole lot of the top muscle of the Freeholder Kingdom aboard, including the Royal Family.

  The Mick and Kris played mules, setting a casually smooth and very rapid pace without effort. There were no problems at sea, Quaver gently droning the Deepsong and any Aquatics in the area rapidly parting to let us pass. That they also knew where we were and where we were going was minor, and I wasn’t worried about it.

  Dark clouds brooded around the island as we swept in on the former Isparian city there. It was long abandoned and evacuated by Master Oswald, who was also riding with us. He’d heard that Nuhmudira might be there and had popped up with several students as we were assembling. Briggs just waved him and his Cloaks aboard without batting an eye.

  The Hea fishermen only had rafts out to pile up their catches, no real boats on the shallow waters there, and were certainly astounded to see the two Wagons come sweeping in from the open sea, with the land being over ten miles to the east. The more astute of them withdrew to the village which, contrary to the past, had a stout wooden wall around it to take care of wandering young olthoi who might be out foraging at night and had to be shot down.

  Their expressions were complex as the Mick and Princess Kristie cut out ahead of them, and Lost Lights swept out in diamond patterns and struck the Shoreward, expanding into sparkling arches the Wagons swept through without even slowing down.

  The Hea clutched their spears and bows grimly as the two Isparians straightened up, gliding over the waters the Hea had just been wading through towards the narrow docks. The Isparians did sheathe their Swords, but there were a lot of Archers standing atop the Wagons plenty willing to exchange fire with the Hea here.

  Also, there were a trio of tumeroks sitting on and above the seat behind Kristie.

  One was the Aun Warchief Gulchuta. Next to him was the Hea tonk and transformed chieftain Hea Kuruga, towering over the humanoid Hea in the form he had been born in.

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  Between them both floated the meditating figure of Hea Rheaga. Silence fell as the Hea saw the Prodigal Tumerok there, and he only lifted his head, opening eyes that shimmered with unnatural yellow energies and unfathomable wisdom.

  “We proceed to Timaru,” the Prodigal Tumerok stated in no uncertain terms. “Who rides with us to confirm our conduct?”

  There was stunned silence for a moment, then a tall Hea warrior shouldered his way forward past the warriors. He was scarred and mighty, but before the trio there he looked like a child, and that was before his trepidation and glance at Kris standing there.

  “I am Hea Kjaelo. I will ride with you to oversee your conduct!” he managed to get out with only a little hesitation.

  Hea Kurugus took a long step over to the Mick’s Wagon, the front of it empty. “Join me, cousin,” the chieftain of all the Hea still living in Osteth invited the other. Hea Kjaelo nodded with relief, swinging gingerly up on the floating Wagon and finding it didn’t tremble a bit under his careful step, despite hovering a yard off the ground. He cocked his head to see if there was a hum of virindi magic, nor had he seen any of the voidsmoke from the shades.

  Tales of Isparian magic, and word of the battlewagons that could be towed at great speed across the landscape, had spread long ago among the Hea. He had long wanted to see one, and now, sensing the might of the warriors gathered on them, he could only regret that he had.

  “Make way for them and open the gates!” he shouted with authority, and his hunters leapt to do just that, pulling back from the path they’d been prepared bravely but futilely to hold.

  The two ‘oxen’ were at speed in two flowing steps, pressing the Hea chieftain back into his seat as they picked up the pace. In moments they were racing faster than any tumerok could possibly match as they made their way for the plateau that dominated the center of the island… and was the source of so much danger.

  “Kurugus Chieftain, you… may have some difficulties at the fortress,” he offered the reverted tonk sitting beside him, his long face at peace even with his fierce scars and sad eyes.

  “The Cult of the Raven Hand is there?” Hea Kurugus asked calmly. Kjaelo exhaled the breath he’d been holding.

  “You are aware that they are here?” he asked perfunctorily, glad he’d not had to keep such a secret.

  “There are few places left for them to seek allies, save in the Direlands, unless they want to return to the Singularity Caul.” Kurugus made a scornful gesture. “Only one like Arantah would deal with such treacherous scum, grasping for power as he is. Did he approach them, or they visit him?”

  Kjaelo rubbed the old spear scar on his broad chin. “In truth, I do not know. But they have been coming and going for some few months, adding forces to the attempts to contain Wharu, who grow increasingly restless. Without the Aun maintaining the menhirs, we have been unable to suppress Wharu, and they come forth in increasing numbers and strength.”

  “Yes, testing and growing stronger versions to contest us. It is their way. The weakest Wharu are rarely found anywhere save in Summons in areas that seem to prohibit popping up their seniors. All the free Wharu are now at least as strong as those packs in the Direlands. What the Isparians call the ‘Olthoi North’ is now populated by olthoi stronger than those in the Direlands.”

  Kjaelo grunted as they raced across the landscape of scattered grass and brush. The wandering aurochs had long been killed by wandering olthoi or for food when their plight was obvious, and the Hea were not expert herdsmen. Without Isparians there to manage them, they had killed the few cattle that were left to deny them to Wharu, feasted on them in salute, and had pined for the fine meat ever since.

  “The Isparians have reclaimed their lands. Will they push onto the island and stride across it as arrogantly as they once did?” Hea Kjelo asked, testing the bounds of his companion.

  “They intend to permanently kill the Queens.”

  Kjaelo considered that somberly, glancing at the top of the Wagon being towed by Kristie to their right. “Isparians doing what we cannot will taste as bad then as now, and yet none of the tribes will speak out against it if they can do it. Certainly the Raven Hand has not had any similar luck.”

  “The Raven Hand do not ‘help’. They put themselves into a position of power and make themselves as indispensable as they can while furthering reliance on themselves. Their goal is to dominate the Hea, not to help them. If Arantah does not realize this, he is a fool… but he has always been a fool, so I hold no hopes for him,” Kurugus said gravely.

  “Can they free us from the virindi?” Kjaelo asked in a lower voice. “There are many elders who would wish to die tonk, not slave-skinned,” he grimaced, gesturing at himself.

  “Hea Rheaga does not like to engage in conflict, although his prowess is formidable. But he has brothers who do not mind fighting at all.”

  Kjaelo fell silent at that. The other Prodigals were also famous, and of them all, only Bonecrunch had failed to join them, what with his recent death. Cautious Hea traders at Candeth Keep had seen all of them, even the Tusker King, within its walls, and once or twice even the somehow-tamed Tremendous Monuga called Tim had been seen there, an awesome presence in his great silvery Armor.

  “The power of one’s friends and allies is one’s own power, is it not?” he finally admitted, studying the Isparian in front of him, who was racing across the ground faster than any tonk or Wharu, matched by the female with the deadly reputation to their right with casual ease.

  “There are honorless Isparians, as there are honorless tumeroks. But these, these are good folk, even if they are not tonk.” Kurugus’s sad eyes narrowed. “But they also know the virindi must be driven from dominance over the Hea if we are to be truly free. Arantah is a symptom of their power, for all his increasing talk of independence. He is not a Prodigal, and he is not free of their power. If they want to leash him, who doubts they can bring him to heel, like some tamed carenzi?”

  “None,” Hea Kjaelo admitted. He had seen a dozen Aun up atop the Wagons, so their green cousins were also aware of the need for solidarity. “He will have to be challenged to depose him, and there are no Hea strong enough to contest with him, save perhaps Rheaga.”

  “If Arantah picks a fight today, it will be his last. There are a score of Isparians here who will slaughter him and his kind.”

  “The leader of the Raven Hand is also here,” Kjaelo whispered.

  “Then she will die, too.”

  ============================

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