Kunas
They had left at dawn, and the sun was now about halfway across the sky as Kunas looked back over the three captains. They were silent, save for some idle chatter between them, talking about the last time that any of them had seen combat (one had never), or their improved promotion odds now that General Tennech was out of the picture.
Their horses were moving at a comfortable pace, and they had managed to put a good bit of distance between themselves and the Sunken City. It was about a day’s ride past Ghal Thurái, and another day to Haidan Shar, but they would not be going all the way to Haidan Shar.
“I’m just hoping to kill a few Chovathi and show General Cullain what I can do,” said Captain Ohlez, a well-built, dark man who hailed from G’hen.
“Killing Chovathi soldiers ain’t gonna get you a promotion,” said Captain Jerol, a dark-haired native Thurian. “You need t’show y’can pick off their leaders.”
“You’re both wrong,” the red-haired Valurian Captain Hunt said. “You have to show that you can lead if you want to make commander anytime soon.”
Kunas rolled his eyes. He wasn’t concerned with ideals such as leadership—although the murderous ambition of the other two men certain resonated with him.
“Quiet, all three of you,” he snapped. “You would think that officers of your caliber would have gone on a diplomatic mission before and would know how to conduct yourselves.”
Ohlez and Hunt looked indignant, and Jerol simply stared.
“If you’re going to talk,” he went on, turning forward again and keeping his eyes on the road, “talk strategy.”
Jerol grunted. “Strategy?” he echoed. “How can we strategize if we don’t know what we’re up against?”
“And you call yourself an officer?” Kunas scoffed.
“Jerol is right,” offered Captain Hunt. “We do need to have at least some idea of what we’ll be facing before we can make any real decisions. Troop strength, motivation, positions, natural and manmade defensive positions—all of those things and more need to be considered before adopting a strategy.”
He sounded like he was quoting a war manual.
He probably is, thought Kunas, shooting a sidelong glance at the young Valurian. He doesn’t look experienced enough to have formed his own opinions about war.
“Well, then, lucky for us we’re scouting ahead, isn’t it?” he said aloud.
He couldn’t see it, but he could feel the captains rolling their eyes at him.
Now, where was that rendezvous point again?
Kunas scanned the foothills of the mountains as they rode along, shadows disappearing under the noonday sun.
There.
“Captains,” he said loudly as he coaxed his horse to a gradual stop. “How are you at making camp?”
Captain Ohlez squinted up at the sun, and the other two exchanged puzzled looks.
“I don’t understand,” Hunt said. “We have at least a day and a half’s ride left before Haidan Shar, and it’s barely even noon. Why would we stop to make camp?”
“You didn’t answer my question, Captain,” Kunas said.
“Ahhhh,” Hunt stammered. “All Academy cadets have to survive a week in the field during training, so,” he shrugged, “passable?”
“Good,” Kunas said as he looked around, indicating a small path that peeked out from behind some jagged rocks. “We will start there.” He tapped his heels into his mount’s ribs to head toward the pass.
***
It was a few hours past noon, and the four of them were seated around the small cook fire Hunt and Jerol had built, with Ohlez grilling some squirrels for them to eat.
Kunas looked down at the cut on his palm that he’d opened a few moments ago. He squeezed it, and a few drops of blood trickled out and landed on his robe. He hated that this was the best way to call the Chovathi, but he had no choice. If it worked, it worked.
While he knew they were close to the Xua’al nest, it was still alarming when the Chovathi got there so quickly. Smell alone wouldn’t have alerted him of their presence; there had to be more to these creatures than that.
Kunas looked back to the fire. “I need you to be calm,” he said to the captains as soon as he saw Khaz’s lumbering frame come into view. The words didn’t have the calming effect he’d thought they might, but the men were seasoned soldiers—two of them having seen combat—and the warning seemed to help. “Have you ever interacted with a Chovathi before?”
Captain Hunt, the youngest of the three, was the only one who shook his head.
“Then I need you to pay attention,” Kunas said. “Close any open wounds you have now. If you can’t, I would strongly advise that you go back to the road and stay there.” He let the words sink in. “We’re going to follow one of them into their nest.”
Any sense of calm evaporated with the words.
Ohlez stood in surprise. “A nest?” he almost shrieked, trying his best to keep his voice steady. “Are you insane?”
The other two captains were frantically searching their own exposed limbs for any scratches or cuts they might have picked up on the ride out.
“It’s the only way,” Kunas replied. “And keep your voice down. While I’m quite certain that they can’t smell fear, they certainly can hear it.”
“You’re doing an awful job of convincing me that it’s a good idea,” Ohlez said. “Why in the Breaker’s name would we ever want to go into a Chovathi nest?”
Kunas sighed in exasperation. “If they’re going to be our allies in this war, we have to show that both sides can be trusted. Besides, I’ve dealt with this one before. And I’m still here, aren’t I?”
The three men did not look convinced.
By now, Jerol and Hunt had finished their self-inspections and seemed to be satisfied with the results.
“Fine,” Hunt said, hand nervously holding the hilt of his sheathed longsword. “But you go first.”
The other captains nodded in exuberant agreement.
Even Kunas was nervous at the prospect of going inside the nest. Though he had interacted with Khaz before, it had always been out in the open where he could run or call for help if things went sour. Going into the heart of a Chovathi nest to broker a deal was like walking into a pit of snakes and dangling a mouse in front of them.
Or, in this case, four mice.
“I will,” he said flatly. “Just follow me, and don’t make any sudden movements.”
Khaz was nearly upon them now. He was an equally uneasy sight in the daytime, when the sun exposed all his hulking movements and angular features. His forelimbs reached the ground, and he used them like a second set of legs, knuckles pounding against the ground as he lumbered toward them.
He had seen Khaz at night, but in the daytime it was like shining a light on a nightmare. The creature’s skin was lined with sharp, jagged ridges that had been invisible in the dark. They looked capable of doing some real damage if they were raked across flesh, he couldn’t help thinking.
And they were about to go into a nest of these things.
“Kunas,” Khaz growled as he approached. “You bring humans. Why?”
The Chovathi wasn’t looking at them when he spoke. He had his head tilted in the air, as if listening to something far away.
Kunas swallowed the fear in his throat before he spoke. He had managed to control his emotions last time. It helped that he knew Khaz had a lot to gain by keeping him alive; he intended to keep it that way.
“Our leader, General Cullain, has asked that we speak to your matriarch. We want to discuss troop strength and our alliance with the Xua’al.”
Right after Kunas uttered the word matriarch, Khaz turned his head to make eye contact with him—although “eye contact” was not entirely accurate, as the eyes of the male Chovathi looked more like sunken pits on his skeletal face. Kunas wasn’t even sure that they were capable of sight. Regardless, they seemed to fulfill their purpose.
“Come to Chovathi nest?” Khaz growled. He had moved closer while Kunas had been talking, and was almost right on top of him. “Why?”
Kunas could feel the sharp inhalation of air as the male’s cavernous nostrils did what they did best. He was sure that, as powerful as Khaz’s sense of smell was, he was using it for something right now.
Maybe they could smell fear after all.
“We need to know that we can trust you,” Kunas said, doing his best to remain calm. Ohlez and Hunt had backed away, but the stoic Jerol, with his Thurian blood, stood his ground. “And you need to know that you can trust us.”
Khaz’s forked tongue emerged from behind his jagged teeth and lightly grazed Kunas’s face. Out of the corner of his eye, Kunas saw Jerol put his hand on his sword, but motioned for him to stop.
Khaz tilted his head again and seemed to be thinking. Finally, he turned back to Kunas and said, “Come.”
Captains Hunt and Ohlez exhaled audibly, almost as if they’d forgotten how to breathe.
“See?” Kunas said, hiding the terror in his voice. “He agrees. Last chance to back out,” he said as he started walking, not even bothering to look back.
When he heard three sets of footsteps behind him, he was secretly relieved. He wasn’t sure that even he wanted to go into a Chovathi nest by himself; it would be a small comfort to have three Valurians accompany him inside.
Besides, he reminded himself with a mental shrug, if anything went wrong, he could always bring the whole mountain down on top of them, boulders and all.