Shvate, Mayla, and Karni found the children soon after the battle began. They joined the Krushan and watched in wonderment the charge of the beasts and the clash of the two armies.
A few assassins who succeeded in making it past the animals alive had the Krushan family to contend with. Barely a few dozen succeeded in making it that far, and those poor souls were dispatched easily by the two mothers and the father.
The children were not permitted to fight, on the strict orders of their parents.
“What you have done, summoning the beasts of the forest and enlisting their aid, has already ensured the safety of our hermitage and the survival of our family,” Shvate told them, “but you are still too young to fight your own battles. As your parents, it would shame us if we permitted our own little children to risk their lives while we yet stand able to protect you.”
Four of the Five accepted their parents’ decision. Only Brum took it sourly.
“Brum fight,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “Fight!” she said, stamping her foot.
Karni raised her finger in warning. Brum subsided, hanging her big round head. “Brum,” she said in resignation.
Karni patted and then kissed her on the head. The girl sulked but accepted the decision.
The Krushan were forced to retreat to the clearing, to wait there till their parents returned. Finally at dawn, the three adults returned, their clothes and bodies marked and stained from the battle, their arrows depleted, their spears all gone, their swords nicked and scored. They themselves were unharmed, barring a few scratches. Shvate had a cut across his chest that had become encrusted with blood, Karni a slash across her back and one shoulder, but Mayla was unmarked and proud of it.
“Battle? Finish?” Brum asked, turning her hand this way and that to indicate “finish.” She sounded hopeful even now.
Her parents took turns kissing her and the other Krushan. “All finished,” they said. Then they embraced as a group, savoring the joy of still being alive together, still able to breathe and feel one another’s warmth, see each other’s faces and smiles, to press hands.
They were alive. They had survived. They were together. What else mattered?
They walked together through the battlefield, the jungle strewn with corpses for scores of miles all around the clearing in a large concentric circle. They marked the passing of the brave beasts who died fighting for their cause and noted the great number of assassins who had been sent. Mayla felt that even if the animals had not intervened, they might still have managed to fend them off. She was still riding high on the aftermath of the victory.
“Yes, we might have,” Karni said sharply. “But at what price? A single casualty? Two? Three?”
Mayla looked at the little heads of their children, and her bravado faded at once. “None,” she said softly, “none at all.” She said no more about fighting a thousand assassins. Even heroism had its limits. They all knew that without the beasts of the jungle rising up on their behalf, they would surely have failed. Especially when even a single casualty meant failure.
They were about to start back to the hermitage when two figures appeared out of the still smoky jungle.
Brum raised her fists at once. “Men!”
The two men came into sight, raising their arms to show they were not a threat.
“Vida!” Shvate said with pleasure.
Karni recognize the familiar mustached face of Adran, her former charioteer, and felt a twinge of guilt. She glanced behind the man, her gaze low, as if searching for someone else following. Mayla noticed and frowned, wondering whom she might be seeking.
“Brother!” Vida cried. The two siblings embraced with warmth.
Adran bowed his head in greeting to the two princesses and prince. “You are well, Princess Karni?” he asked.
“I am. And your family?” she asked. “Are they well?” Her voice had a trace of some emotion that Mayla had never heard before.
“They are well,” Adran said, “by your grace and Mother Jeel’s blessings.”
Vida cleared his throat, attracting their attention. Everyone looked at him. “I regret that I come bearing dire tidings.”