Chapter 41: The Escape

Gotta take any opportunity you can.

***

The jungle was wasn’t any brighter for the Uttaran column marching through it, despite what Brachen had wondered before. They had no trouble navigating their own homes, easily stepping over any dip or stray branch in the road. One tossed aside a bundle of fronds to keep the way clear, past a Fish Clan spirit who was tasting the air at the perimeter, keeping watch.

Dhanur buckled as northerner after northerner prodded her. They hurled insults and trash like before. A few swatted at her with path-side branches, trying to bring out the fire she showed last night. Brachen and Janurana took a few more lumps themselves, although as a gwomoni Janurana rarely swelled up or blend for more than a second. No warrior noticed as she kept her head down with her hair covering her face.

Dhanur tried to take the projectiles for her father and even a few for Janurana. Mostly, Dhanur kept a rigid and focused glare as if she were in battle. No warrior actually used their weapons since Miraku stood in front of the three prisoners ensuring no one ruined the arena’s new attraction.

Dhanur ignored all incoming assaults and focused all her contained anger at the warrior holding her quiver and bow. She insulted him, questioned why the Macaques let such a weak warrior into their ranks, wondering how many of his friends she’s killed and how they brought no glory to their clans. It only antagonized the warriors around her more, but she ignored them to keep on pestering. At one point she rammed forward, almost knocking him over. The warrior holding her weapons kept his cool, and she kept trying. Her bow was slung over his back for her to see just how powerless she was. It had even been strung, but with a new string. 

“What? Cut yourself stringing a bow? Ha!” Dhanur kicked him, smirking. 

Brachen was surprised that Dhanur kept her cocksure smirk so convincing, but he could easily see by her tightened fists that she was having trouble controlling her rage.

He had trouble keeping up with the column marching up through the jungle. Despite his constant assurances that he was fine, Janurana kept leaning forward to push Brachen along if necessary. Each time Dhanur would snap around, and each time he would assure her he was fine. The occasional ray of sun helped, but not enough. The vines binding their hands enjoyed the light just as much and tightened with every ray they absorbed.

“These Light lost ankles,” Brachen cursed as he stumbled.

“Is that where Dhanur picked up her filthy mouth?” Janurana chuckled awkwardly as she pushed up behind.

Every time Dhanur had stumbled, even from being hit, she was scolded by those around her and told to stand upright. The mob was too preoccupied with the traitor Dhanur to do the same with some random monk, even if he did pester Vatram before the war. Brachen gave Dhanur a long, pained stare that she met for only a moment. Both knew it was getting less and less likely they’d all make it to Aram, so she bumped into her target again. Even when Miraku tried to stop her, she just stuck her tongue out at him and laughed.

“What? You gonna ruin Arai’s night of fun??” She laughed, then Miraku knocked her to the ground.

Brachen fought with every fragment of his Light blessed power to not run forward and take his daughter’s place, but he knew she’d never allow it, and his ankles couldn’t stand up to her anymore.

“Perhaps,” Brachen finally responded to Janurana, regaining his footing with her help. “But I have traveled for much longer on much worse wounds than age.”

“Oh, I’m sure you have. But there’s no worse wound than that.” Janurana sighed, feeling as if the patch on her hips were still there. “Excuse me? Madam warrior?” Janurana turned to the warrior behind her.

A Tree Clan with armor lined in green and an ax slung over her shoulder cocked her brow at the southern words. 

“Oh. Right. Uhm. Yes, attention. Attention?” Janurana tried in Uttaran.

“What are you asking?” Brachen breathed heavily.

“Lake? On the left? No. Uhm…” She couldn’t remember the word that started with an L sound so she went to mime drinking, but her hands were behind her back.

The tree clan cocked her other brow and said in northern. “Water?”

“Oh, that would be splendid,” Brachen said in southern for Janurana to piece together, then switched tongues. “Please? Yes. I would like water. Can I have water?”

The Tree Clan looked back and forth. The warriors were either conversing, watching the mob taunting Dhanur, or part of the mob. She nodded and quickly slipped him her drink bag. He nearly choked trying to take as much as he could since she had a particularly hard time finding his mouth under his mustache.

“Oh, thank you,” he sighed deeply.

“You’re welcome.” She looked around again. “Thank you for healing us back when. In your temple.”

It took a moment for Brachen to remember, but the face registered as one of the warriors he had helped back when the northern armies were retreating up through Vatram at the end of the war.

At the head of the column Atampara called a halt near midday, allowing a brief rest for lunch. The warriors, already mostly in their Clan groups, split up further to either rummage for food off the path or eat what they brought. The commander pushed her way through as if expecting others to move for her with Kunya beside. She passed through the Rhino and Kalia clans with their spirits moving only after being stared down by both her and Kunya, which was particularly hard for the multi headed Kalia spirits. Their Clan spirits sported a writhing mass of snakes instead of a head, each of which glared at the Macaque clan commander. One dared to snap at her, but eventually they all backed down. The same was true of Clan Rhino who only moved when specifically asked to. Clan Fish parted as a school of fish is wont to do, but Min scowled at the ground as she moved. Matikal and most of her clan were nearby but she sat with Min, and her peppy attitude crashed like a felled tree as the commander passed. She chewed on her petals.

“Maybe the boars had the right idea,” Matikal dared to whisper in the lowest tone to Min. Barely any of the warriors bowed more than half-heartedly to the passing Macaque leaders.

“Holding up?” Atampara asked Miraku.

“Well enough.” He shrugged, picking dirt from his fur.

“Should probably feed them,” Atampara said.

With crossed arms, She called for a few provisions for the prisoners. Rather than the rotten fruit or rancid meat they had assumed, the group received normal fare, which was promptly tossed onto the ground. It wasn’t much but they wouldn’t complain.

Dhanur and Brachen had no trouble swallowing their pride to eat like animals. But Janurana hesitated. Every time she even had to drain a victim, it fell to the ground, and as much as she loved feeding, she’d have to eat like some sort of animal not a higher class woman.

“What? Too good for you?” Kunya kicked a spattering of dirt onto her meal.

“Best to have some of it,” Brachen said, his mustache spoiled by food and mud.

The warriors nearby stared at the group. Even though she wasn’t particularly hungry since she had fed recently, Janurana relented. Perversely, the dirt helped Janurana take longer to eat, giving an excuse for her to only take a few bites of the meat. She still struggled without her fingers. There was no blood in the dried meat, so she just chewed and let it fall out of her mouth.

Before they were finished they were brought to their feet. What was left of their food was kicked aside to the delight of the creatures who followed the marching force. Many warriors happily chucked their rinds and bones into the waiting mass of monkeys, mice, and birds. Those warriors and porters were chastised by those who had their lunch stolen right out of their hands by an intrepid macaque. No obvious jokes about the thieving macaques were tolerated though.

Hours later, the entire column was brought to a halt as two other Macaque spirits confronted a warrior from Clan Kalia for making such a joke. One was one of the old clan spirits Atampara interviewed while the other was a tall woman brandishing a simple but glowing woodcutter’s ax. But before the Kalia warrior could back down, a Kalia spirit took a step forward. All its heads stood upright. The Macaque Clan spirits stepped back.

“Hand him over for punishment,” the one with the ax demanded, glaring at the offending warrior.

The Kalia spirit didn’t move and instead splayed out all its heads in a semi-circle. The warrior behind the spirit brandished his club, eyeing the ax wielding spirit as his target.

Janurana and Brachen watched almost as intently as Dhanur, who panned over the reactions of every face she could see. Most other clans were neutral, but some warriors and porters shuffled with worry. Only the Macaque and Kalia Clan seemed angry. Not even the Rhino clan who were just as obstinate as the Kalias rushed forward to lodge their complaints.

But something caught both Dhanur and Janurana’s ear. A light rustle next to the path with another further in the jungle. Bits of wiry fur were poking out from the undergrowth. Both women scanned the brush line as far as they could. The Fish Clan spirits had broken off their watch, observing with the whole column how the confrontation would go down. A gentle fog was rolling in from the north, making any scent travel away from the sentries, and eyes poked through the ferns and bushes, watching.

Dhanur turned to Janurana and silently motioned out with her head, then flared her nostrils.

“Boars.” Janurana confirmed after sniffing.

“Huh.” Dhanur smirked.

“What?” Brachen asked.

“Just be ready, Abba.”

Kunya, who was sitting with Miraku and Atampara, growled and threw up his hands, storming off to reinforce the spirits in the Kalia and Macaque standoff. Atampara and Miraku sighed in unison and joined him. Two more Kalia spirits and a small collection of Kalia warriors had come to their comrade’s aid.

Dhanur kicked the warrior who held her bow. “Who did that??”

The warrior dropped his meat and roti wrap and it splattered all over the dirt. “That’s it!” he screamed and spun around to punch her but Dhanur just leapt back.

“Hey! They said no fighting me. Right, Abbaji?”

“Dhanur, perhaps it’s�"”

“Yeah, see? Exactly like he said.”

The warrior went to yank his hand-ax from his belt loop, but forgot he was holding her bow and dropped it. The half second was all Dhanur needed. She planted her feet and slammed her thick head into his, instantly knocking him out. He stumbled back, two of the arrows from her quiver falling out. As quickly as she hit him, she spun and caught the falling bow with her bound hands. In the same motion she plunged it into the dirt and as she stood upright, sliced the vines open on the sharpened notches.

The cut vines wriggled once they hit the ground and burrowed into the path. Two of the guards behind them rushed forward to seize Dhanur, but Janurana slammed into them. They flew into the crowed and the Tree Clan woman who gave them water.

“Sorry!” he yelled to her in Uttaran.

Despite their number, the northern warriors did not rush forward, but instead formed a ring. A clan Tree Spirit pushed through and crossed his arms. He stepped froward, eying the edges of the ring to see who would be the other combatant of this duel before he declared it officially started.

“What?? Come on, I haven’t even drawn it yet!” Dhanur laughed. “Oh, ya being fair?”

One lowered her spear to jab at Brachen, but it was batted down by Dhanur and the whole crowd leapt back.

“I’ve killed plenty of you before. But been a couple years though, maybe this time you can beat me.”

Dhanur leaned down to cut Brachen’s bindings, but a warrior leapt forward, almost clipping Dhanur’s shoulder in the same spot as last time. His ax’s massive head sunk easily into the hardened dirt path. Snaking tendrils of red magic glistened on the blade even in the limited sun. Dhanur leapt back, scowling as Brachen and Janurana were grabbed by the crowd and held.

As the warrior ripped his weapon free, its magic burning the dirt off it, he locked eyes with Dhanur and she nodded. He gave her ample time to put on her quiver and grab the arrows knocked loose.

Atampara had only just fought her way between the Kalia and Macaque spirits, barely able to say they must all stick together lest the south divide and conquer. But the clash of metal drew her to Dhanur’s fight.

The crowd cheered and jeered, forgetting Atampara and Kunya’s orders. Dhanur had loosed her arrow which ricocheted off the warrior’s bronze helm. They were running at each other like charging bulls and Dhanur slid under his side to catch the arrow as it fell. She tried to sweep at his legs with her bow as she rose, but he leapt back and swung down, barely missing.

Dhanur allowed him to remove his ax and they sized each other up once more. The crowd hurled pebbles at Dhanur along with insults she didn’t understand. One pebble struck her shoulder, another accidentally hit her opponent, and an arrow lodged itself in his neck.

A withering storm of arrows and slinger stones fell harder than any monsoon wind. Northern warriors drew up their shields if they had them or were cut down by the missiles. A fog rushed into them, stinging every non�"Boar Clan eye, preventing shield�"less warriors from summoning any by magic. Dhanur curled like a pangolin, letting her armor be her shield and Brachen threw himself in front of Janurana without a second thought but both were safely behind a shield of northern flesh.

A tide of boar clan warriors rushed from the undergrowth, all baring their white tusk tattoos. With spears, axes, and even a few swords all imbued with their own magic, they slammed into the column with more ferocity than their namesakes. Boar headed spirits led the charge before breaking off to tackle any other spirits nearby. Uttaran magic clashed against magic, burning holes in any non infused wooden shields or unprotected flesh.

Dhanur rushed to her father’s side, checking him for wounds as she cut both him and Janurana free.

“Come on!” Dhanur yelled over the din of battle and turned off the path.

The battle quickly devolved. The initial boar charge met the side of the column, pressing the warriors against each other. They tried to form some sort of shield wall but those with shields were scattered and the sudden ferocity of the attack broke all cohesion, creating a hundred single battles of honor and glory. The clashes between the spirits added to the chaos.

They demanded space from all combatants, flinging normal warriors aside with a single swipe, leaping over the battle like a gwomoni over rooftops, and savaging each other. The Kalia spirit who had protected his warrior spat multiple jets of venom at a charging Boar spirit, who ignored the searing blast that struck her shoulder and buried her tusks into his chest. Every head latched onto her, snapping, spitting venom, doing whatever they could to take revenge as the boar gored open his chest. Matikal, standing behind her Tree Clan warriors, raised her hand and roots rose from the ground to grab hold of the boars attacking her people, letting them strike a final blow.

Dhanur, Janurana, and Brachen fumbled through the brush, struggling to see as their eyes fogged with tears.

“Keep the road in sight!” Dhanur called as Janurana was about to flee further into the trees. She knelt down to let Brachen get on her back.

But a warrior at the rear of the fighting spotted them fleeing and took aim. The heat of battle kept his vision focused despite the fog. Just as he loosed, a boar spearman leapt from the crowd impaled the warrior. The arrow went wide, and struck Janurana in the thigh. Her screech curdled Dhanur and Brachen’s blood.

“I’m fine!” she yelled and ripped out the arrow without a thought.

Hampered, but still moving, she ran past them with Dhanur following.

The most savage battles were between any Macaque and Boar that found each other, both warrior and spirit. While other clans fought because this was a battle, Boar and Macaque blades clashed with a ring louder than every other. Their strikes were more wild and wrathful, with Boar warriors abandoning one opponent should they spot a Macaque. Kunya slammed aside one boar axman who charged him and easily ducked under a few slinger stones. He casually made his way through the chaos to the tallest, proudest boar spirit.

“Panri!” Kunya yelled over the din, knocking aside a lesser boar spirit.

Atampara was yelling to regain some sort of order, but it was far out of her hands now. Only when Panri and Kunya met eyes did the fighting stop. The entire column, Boar, Macaque, and every other spirit formed a single ring around the two, even spreading into the brush. 

“Lost your lands again?” Panri chortled.

Kunya was silent.

“You know, Janelsa’s tithes weren’t too hard to pay,” he snickered.

Author's Note

We hope you have a nice day.