Sivulu
Yelto’s stronghold was now in view, and Sivulu, sprinting swiftly ahead on his four legs, signaled the men to a halt. Changing back into his human form, he turned to address them, and could spot immediately the ones who were not used to being around a Wolfwalker: they averted their eyes from him as though his power was unnerving. But Sivulu knew that another aspect of him was making them equally uncomfortable, as a light desert breeze swept over his naked body.
Wolfwalkers, who spent a good part of their lives wearing nothing but the fur on their bodies, were not bothered by nudity the way some of the other tribes were. And for those who lived, worked, or traded with Wolfwalkers, the naked human form was not such a shocking thing. There were some, however, who regarded bare flesh as sacred and intimate, only to be revealed to a lover in the heat of passion. Sivulu did not understand such a mentality and was not bothered by a few men looking away uncomfortably; he would be back in his second skin soon enough. He smiled to himself and addressed the multitude.
“You all know why we are here and what we aim to accomplish,” he said loudly, sweeping his gaze over the mighty collection of men. They were hundreds in number, warriors through and through. He hoped it would be enough. “Thanks to intelligence gathered by my brother, Kuu, we now know where Yelto keeps his prison. We also know that it is well guarded. But lastly, and most importantly, we know where Yelto keeps the Wolfblade.”
The men were silent, but a few dozen of them gave knowing nods.
“Hedjetti,” Sivulu called out. “To me.”
At his beckoning, four large men from four different tribes stepped forward and approached him. As the Hedjetti of their respective tribes, each man had earned a place of respect by displaying traits of strength, ferocity, and leadership. Each tribe handled it differently, but all of them shared one thing in common: the old Hedjetti all died by the hands of the new ones. Therefore, each of them knew what it meant to take a life, and each of them respected death. They knew that their deaths would come too, perhaps in battle or at the hands of a new Hedjetten. But each of these experiences had chiseled them into formidable warriors, warriors that Sivulu knew would be indispensable in the battle for the Wolfblade. And the Hedjetti that stood before him now—from the tribes of the Ohmati, Qozhen, Khuufi, and Elteri—were four of the best.
They gathered around him in a semicircle as he went over the plan one more time.
“Jotun and Garus, you will lead the assault on the western wall with the Qozhen and Elteri. Hroth and Uzma, you take the east with the Kuufi and Ohmati.”
Each man nodded as his tribe was named.
“The Wolfwalkers,” Siv went on, “will divide themselves between the two forces to fight our way to the center of the stronghold. There, I will use this”—he held up the leather pouch around his neck, which held the key that Kuu had stolen—“to make my way inside.”
Hroth of the Ohmati stepped forward. “My men have heard that a Priest of the Holder fights for Yelto,” he said. The tall Hedjetten wore his dark, braided hair in rows that hung past his shoulders. On the ends of several of the braids were white beads, one for each kill he had made in defense of his tribe. Sivulu counted at least twenty.
“Your men have heard right,” Siv answered with a frown.
“Then this will be a bloodbath,” Hroth said darkly.
“Perhaps. But our aim is not to kill them off. Our aim is to get inside.”
“And then?” asked Jotun of the Elteri. His scalp and face were bald, making the red streaks of war paint that much more grotesque.
“Leave that to me,” Sivulu replied.
The answer seemed to satisfy the Hedjetten, but Sivulu wasn’t worried about appeasing him. He looked to his left, where the sun was completing its journey across the sky of the Traveler and giving way to the night sky of the Holder. An assault under His watchful eye would have been considered suicide if not for the endgame that Sivulu had in sight.
He turned his eyes back to the stronghold of Djozen Yelto, where the Mother of Wolves waited. She was the key, he knew, to setting Sivulu’s people free once and for all.
Do’baradai, Yelto, and the Holder all waited. He hoped they would not have to wait too long.