Glade 72, 105
The rain was streaming down in sheets as wings carved heavily through it. Down below, rivers were flooded, their muddy banks lost to the bright eyes that peered down at them from her perch. But she knew where she was. This was her home, and she knew it no matter the season, rain or drought. She would be home soon. She felt a bit of a wriggle, and the Orkhan woman looked down, here hawk gaze softening as she looked at the mess of dark waves tied in a small braid with a leather strap. She smiled, cooing, as a pair of dark eyes opening sleepily to look back at her.
"We're almost home, Norani."
The small, green child yawned wide and then slumped back against her mother's chest, settling in there. Lightning flashed, arching across the sky, illuminating the mother and child soaring through the storm on the back of one of Ecith's Ci'uvan. Every time a storm cracked, Major Ourha Q'uvi knew her daughter would one day join her up here. True fliers never feared the lightning or the storm, they sought them out.
She saw the break in the rain ahead and smiled. Rainy season was coming to an end soon, any day now it seemed. And a moment later, the great winged reptile shot out from the storm, loosed from a god's bow, and the trio were warming in the morning sunlight. Scales grew out upon Ourha's brow, as Shakri started his dive. The muddy world below was racing up toward them, as mother leaned forward to protect child from the winds that sought to stream across their backs. They dove down below a kaleidoscopic ribbon of colors forming as the storm moved northward, heading back out to sea. As they neared the flooded plains below, Shakri began pulling up, softening into an arch, coming parallel to the water, staying a healthy distance above it.
It wouldn't be the first time a Flood Stalker would snatch a Ci'uvan out of the sky, invisible in the murky depths below.
Ourha and Shakri followed a river that could not be seen, winding through a forest of grasses many meters tall, though with much room to grow in the dry season. A bend and a serpentine winding later, and a smile grew upon the major's face. Dead ahead was the great tree that represented her home in the grasslands. Ounokt Nora. As she approached, other Ci'uvan fliers burst from the grasses, whistling, hooting, and hollering, fists and weapons raised. But Ourha did not celebrate with them, and as soon the others saw that, they fell into formation behind her, solemn and subdued.
The winged contingent touched down in a clearing next to the lake. Healers from the neighboring village were already rushing toward Ourha, who had cut the straps from a cargo harness that clung to Shakri's belly. As the final strap fell away, the form of a woman, a white haired elf, unconscious fell into Ourha's arms. She caught her with ease, laying her down upon the grasses, trying to make her comfortable. The other soldiers, all Orkhan, all from the two villages that relied upon Nora, the lake that gave them all life, stood back, giving space, faces awash with concern and worry.
One of the healers set to work right away, his eyes and hands glowing with his magics. His brow instantly began to perspire, his breathing growing ragged mere seconds in before he had to tear his gaze away. He stood up, looking at Ourha. "What happened to her? Her aura is scorched, blinding, and in absolute chaos."
Ourha kept a stern face, "She hid the power of Novuril for over a week. They never discovered us."
The man's glowing eyes widened, "That long? That's imp.. how is she still alive?"
Ourha barked, "Can you do anything for her, Kartok?"
Teeth grit, "This is beyond me, it might be beyond any of us here in Ecith."
The major stepped forward aggressively, jostling the baby that was swaddled against her chest. Ourha reached out, grabbing the man by his braid and pulling him close, to stare her in the face, as Norani, awake now, began to bawl. Growling, "I don't want to hear mights and maybes. If you cannot do anything, tell me who can." The man was paling in her grasp, "I'll... need a team. I can barely gaze upon her. I don't think we can fix her, but we can make her comfortable."
"Let him go, Ourha."
All eyes turned. Ourha dropped the man's braid, and he pulled back from her, returning to the elf at his feet. The major turned, pulling the child from her swaddling rags, cradling her in the crook of her arm, calming her almost instantly. "I didn't expect you to be here, Chieftain."
The towering woman of gaze fierce stared for a long while at mother and child, "Matra was ready to lay her clutch. A bountiful year. Shakri is a good father." She looked down at the elf, then back at Ourha, "Anyone else?"
"Laveriel and Novuril were all that remained of the team when we reached the northlands. She will continue to run, leading any Imperial eyes away from those who will guard the blade." A tiny hand reached up, grabbing at a wet, twisted twirl of hair, pulling. Ourha didn't stop the girl who began to tug and yank, "What's the situation here?"
Chieftain Boraba gave a single nod to her subordinate, "Our armies are leading the Imperial south toward Kythera. Ailos has been abandoned, believed emptied, ruins. Dratir is gone." A deep inhale through Ourha's nose, a hand running back over the top of her head, "I've never seen anything like this enemy before. The horrors they brought with them aren't natural." Boraba stepped forward, a hand on Ourha's back, "We will win this war, but at too high a cost." Boraba looked back over her shoulder, "Prepare her and yourselves for transport. We will take her to Kythera." The healers nodded, and rapidly continued their work on the woman, glowing hands reaching into the woman's scalding aura.
Boraba led Ourha and Norani down a path toward the tree they all called home. "It is time we have a very difficult discussion, Ourha."
"I'm not leaving her behind, none of my family are nursing."
The chieftain shook her head, "No, it's not that. Like I said, we will win this war. The moment we got their armies to leave their ships, the outcome was decided." Boraba stopped, looking to the sky as a massive figure, as large as any adult dragon blocked out the sun. Matra, the matriarch of the Ci'uvan, far larger and older than all of them. She swooped down toward the clearing that they had just left. "We need to prepare for when they return. They will not get that which they came for, and their armies will be shattered, barely any returning home. But this Emperor of the North is no fool, and his reach is far greater than any one man should ever have. He will come for us again."
Ourha nodded, adjusting Norani as she began fussing, recognizing those squirms as the girl's desire to feed. Ourha was hungry herself, living off pack rations on this trip, but still, child was to be fed first. It was why she had brought Norani on this dangerous mission in the first place. "What is it you wish to say, Chieftain?"
A sigh, "We need to start preparing the next generation for when these fiends return to our shores."
Ourha's nostrils flared, her tusks started to grow, her lips twisted in a snarl, "How dar--"
Boraba held a hand, "You will not be forced into this decision, and it is not one I raise lightly. You know this." The chieftain sighed, "But our losses are unimaginable and they will only grow worse before this ends. We expect to lose Kythera too. Our armies will be tatters after this is over, generations will be lost, and those of us left will have to rebuild." Her eyes fell upon the child, "Her generation will be the next ones to fight this war."
Ourha's tusks shrunk back to their normal size as she calmed, but her eyes were watering, "Is it really that bad?"
Boraba nodded, her throat tight.
Ourha let the tears flow, a few falling upon the child, a small hand reaching up to wipe at it, "What do we need to do?"
"Raise a chieftain."
The child brapped, finished with her eating, looking up and smiling at her mother. Ourha pulled her up close, touching their noses together as the little girl giggled. And then she looked her in the eyes, "I'm sorry little one."
