A Peace Offering

The soldiers moved away and conferred. Some looked at the advancing Jade army. A tall figure joined them, then turned toward Fallon. He raised his throwing axe and Fallon breathed deeply in anticipation of the killing cut of the blade.

“You said you had lost the energy,” tall man challenged Fallon. He turned to the others. “This is trickery.” 

“They step as one. Their arms and heads move as one!” Fallon threw the challenge back.

Tall One lobbed something up to the Fae warrior seated high up on the Sprint. “Tell me,” he commanded. A few moments later, Tall One caught something in his hand and Fallon heard the woman, “It is so. They move as one.” Tall One turned toward the valley and held the glass to his eyes. After a moment, he called to the others, “cut him down and clean him up. Today we will bargain.”

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The ground thundered beneath the feet of the Jade army as they moved down the hill. Altiss, the Faerie Queen, swept through the air above them and relayed what she saw to Sarten, who sent the stream of information  through the ground and into the minds of each of the warriors. Eight Sprints - hideous but lethal. 

Drindl drew back. His fear fought with the energy. “You’ve never seen one?” Alpen asked. Drindl stared at a Sprint on the crest of the hill. The slicing mandibles opened and closed. The six legs had snakes growing out of them. Drindl stood frozen, mouth agape, terrified by some childhood nightmare. Alpen had mentored several bantams in previous battles. This was new. The energy was magnifying some craziness in Drindl’s mind. 

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Sarten tapped on the mind web between warriors. He was impatient. Alpen turned to the warrior on the other side of Drindl. Together they lifted the bantam warrior from the ground to disconnect him from the warrior mind web, then laid him on his cloak on the dewy ground. A nightmare that powerful could infect the rest of them. Alpen tied his own cloak around Drindl's feet, carefully wrapping the young warrior's hooves so they would not make contact with the ground. Alpen turned his head toward the top of the opposing hill but still there was no advance from the Glade army. In case of a trick, the flanks of the Jade force split left and right in a wide circling movement that would slash through the Glade army in a pincer attack. 

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From the line of Glade warriors atop the hill, two figures emerged and began to walk down the hill to meet Sarten's forces. One figure was Fae. Alpen recognized the sinuous walk of a warrior. As they descended the hill, the Jade line readied for battle. Fallon! As soon as Alpen recognized him, the news traveled instantly through the mind meld. As they neared, the Fae warrior crouched in a signal of surrender as Fallon advanced toward his fellow warriors.

Fallon smiled as he approached Sarten and waved to Alpen. Despite the temptation to hug Fallon, Alpen did not break rank. Fallon spoke gibberish to Sarten. The Glade language with its ugly syllables! Sarten raised his sword to slay the devil that inhabited Fallon’s body. Fallon stepped back, his face creased in panic and confusion.  He spoke in the formal cadences of their fathers, the ancient warriors, “Sarten, my lord, it is I, Fallon, who fought with you at Pilates and Caphis.”

Sarten lowered his sword and held out an arm to embrace Fallon. “We thought you were dead. Then you speak in the Glade language as a man possessed. Go, take care of Drindl whom we have left behind. You have captured this Fae warrior?”

Fallon turned toward the crouching figure. “No, she comes as a sign of Glorin’s sincerity.” The sound of the Glade leader’s name was as ugly as the man himself. 

“They want to bargain?” Sarten scoffed. “What use have we of Fae? We do not use those foul Sprints in battle.”

“She bears the details of the truce,” Fallon said. As he turned, Sarten saw the wounds of capture and interrogation.

“They have put their language in your head,” Sarten said. “Have they also taken your loyalty? In a short time the Ibik herds will thunder through this valley to their breeding grounds. Food and hides for all, but not enough for two peoples. What truce?”

 “It is true that you can slaughter them all,” Fallon replied.  “That would gladden my spirit as fair retribution for their crimes to me. But certainly some of our warriors will fall in the coming battle.”

“It’s a trick, a delay,” Sarten countered.

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“No, the wives of the Glade warriors are in the camp ready to bargain,” Fallon said. Women talked. Warriors warred.

“Their eggs...” Sarten said. His eyes squinted as he looked into the heart of Fallon's words.

Fallon spoke to the Fae warrior in the Glade language. She reached into her satchel, withdrew an egg and held it out to Sarten with both hands. It was twice the size of a warrior’s fist. “The son or daughter of Glorin,” Fallon said. 

The warriors on either side of Sarten stared at the egg. They all had eggs of their own at home. It was a powerful sign of truce making. The spring generation of both Glade and Jade peoples would hatch in the next two weeks.

Sarten did not take the egg. A warrior did not handle another warrior's egg, friend or enemy. Sarten lowered his head as he deliberated. Fallon glanced left at Alpen standing in rank and mouthed a silent questioning "Drindl" to his friend. Alpen shook his head and made a gesture with his hand that Drindl would be all right. Alpen's eyes went wide as Sarten said, "We will bargain."

Fallon looked from Alpen to Sarten. What had caused alarm in Alpen?