“Time is short. The Mongauli army stands poised to deliver a final crushing blow to the Sem forces—and if the Mongauli should win, the Sem tribes will be annihilated down to the last woman and child, great corpse-fires will burn upon the sands, and soon the white valley you hold sacred will be overrun. For, once the Mongauli have destroyed the Sem, it is a certainty that they will next come to destroy the Lagon.
“I do not know what land Aqrra has promised to the Lagon, nor can I tell you why Aqrra has decided that the Lagon should join in this struggle. But what I can say beyond any doubt is that no matter where your promised land may lie, no matter what land it may be, in order to claim it you must fight. Lend your strength to defend Nospherus, and drive back the evil that threatens to consume it. I have come across valley and mountain to bring you battle, flames, death—and victory.
“Rise, Lagon. Rise, people of Nospherus! Hear my pleas and take up spear and axe! Even as we speak, men with no true claim to this land threaten to trample it beneath their horses’ hooves!”
Even before the echoes of Guin’s speech had died, the Lagon took up the cheer.
“Lagon will stand with Aqrra!”
“Lagon will follow Aqrra!”
“Lagon will fight!”
“Aqrra, Aqrra!”
Some among the giants raised swords of cut crystal into the air, or whirled stone axes above their heads, while others pounded their chests with their fists and roared. Women and children both clutched at their hair, howling praise for the messenger of Aqrra and the warriors of Lagon.
“Prepare! We prepare!”
“Make ready! Sharpen your axes! Fill the food-satchels!”
“War! We go to war!”
Their eager cries soon transformed into barked orders and excited conversation as with a single-minded purposefulness the wildlings went to prepare for battle.
“Be swift,” Guin added. Then, seeing that his job was done, he lowered the curious artifact in his hand and thrust it once again through his belt. His eyes traveled across the rapidly dispersing crowd, then up toward the sky.
His request had ultimately met with success far beyond his hopes, but Guin was not the least bit happy. Inside that expressionless leopard head, his two bestial yellow eyes shone harshly, bright with an unbearable anguish. His big fists hung tensely by his side, twitching and clenching as though in seizure as he glared up at the great arc of the blue sky, rimmed by the rough-cut ridgeline of the mountains, and at the sun which now rose high into the morning.
A low growl spilled from his mouth.
The fourth morning comes. How can I move the Lagon across wolf-infested mountains and the endless desert to reach the Sem by nightfall? I cannot. They have no horses, and even with mounts, it would take two days to cross that distance. Nor can I rely again on such a miracle as the cyclone which carried me.
Guin wanted not four days, but fourteen—yet he knew the sandclock that hung over his head was not in the hands of the Sem, but the Mongauli army. Even four days was too long if the attack had already come.
All that was left to him was to reach the Sem as fast as he could. When I arrive with the Lagon, let it not be to a barren field of corpses, a banquet for the mouths-of-the-desert. Let my Lagon army not fight a battle of mourning for the fallen Sem.
Please, let me be in time. Time… Guin growled. If I could, I would command time itself to stop.
“Brave warrior Guin,” came a deep, wild voice, jarring the leopard-man from his reverie. The massive form of Dodok the Brave loomed before him. “Brave Guin, I offer my apology.”
From beneath Dodok’s jutting brow, sharp-gleaming eyes peered downward, fixing on the leopard-headed warrior.
“Apology?”
“When I accepted your challenge, I did not know you were the true messenger. I should not have fought the messenger of Aqrra. It is not shameful to lose to the messenger, for he borrows Aqrra’s strength, and Aqrra’s strength is undying.”
Guin stood silently, watching the towering warrior intentIy.
“I did not believe you spoke the truth. I give you my apology. Do you accept?”
“I do,” Guin said, taking the Lagon’s massive hand in his. Dodok seemed moved by the gesture, and bowed his huge head.
After a moment the Lagon spoke again. “Brave Guin, the enemies lagon are to fight—they are strong?”
“One against one, they would not be a challenge for even a child of the Lagon,” Guin said with a laugh. “But they ride horses. And use weapons not of stone but of steel, and powerful bows. They wear not cured hides, but thick metal armor. And they are many—as many as five times the number of your warriors. What’s more, they fight in groups. They will not fight honorably, one against one, as the Lagon do. Yet, most of them are shorter even than I, and they are not strong.”
“Then they are weak. Weak, and many. Like ants facing the wolf.” Dodok the Brave’s hideous face twisted into a smile. His eyes shone bright as candles. “I will lead lagon to victory in Aqrra’s battle,” he declared, slamming his chest with a fist.
“I look forward to seeing your feats on the field of battle, Dodok the Brave,” Guin said truthfully.
Dodok turned and began to walk away—then stopped abruptly and turned back to stare into Guin’s eyes. “Brave warrior Guin. I… feel regret for fighting Aqrra’s messenger, but…”
Guin raised an eyebrow.
“Guin. Brave Guin. I fight many battles, more than I count hairs on my body, but never lose to one smaller than Dodok. You are smaller than Dodok. But you are strong. Brave Guin, I…”
“I understand,” Guin said. “I, too, regret that our combat had to end before a clear victory was decided. Once we have prevailed in this battle Aqrra demands of us, should you and I both stand unharmed upon this land, we will pick a day of good omen, and we will fight until a winner is decided. Yet I have many things to do, so we will not fight until one is dead. We will fight until one lies unconscious upon the ground. The one standing shall be the victor.”
“Good,” Dodok the Brave said, his face suddenly brightening. Grinning, he clapped Guin on the chest with his massive hand before running off to assist with the tribe’s preparations for war.
All around the amphitheater, skins, stone axes, and spears were piled into great heaps, and a great number of Lagon were busy among them. Guin lifted his eyes and spotted a Lagon child standing a short distance away from the crowd. It was Rhana.
Guin beckoned her closer. At first the girl seemed hesitant, but when Guin softened his gaze and called to her, she meekly approached.
“Hello, Rhana,” Guin said, gently extending his hand and patting her on the head. “Thank you. Because of your kindness, I ate and drank, and was able to fight Dodok the Brave. May you know happiness always. You saved my life.”
“Is Guin stronger than Dodok?” Rhana asked, her hesitant shyness draining away the closer she came to Guin. Gradually she seemed more at ease until she stood before the warrior and allowed him to embrace her in his arms.
“That I do not know,” Guin told her. “We have just promised each other to find out for certain someday. But not soon. Know this, though. Dodok is very, very strong!”
Rhana’s round eyes looked up at Guin’s leopard head. Gently, she raised a hand and stroked his fur. “Is this a skin you wear?” she asked with a child’s curiosity.
“It is not. For reasons I do not understand, I cannot take it off.”
“Will everyone go to fight with you? Even Dodok?”
“Yes, they will.”
“Rhana will go too.”
“Rhana can go when she is bigger.”
Guin lifted the Lagon child in his arms. He held her close, feeling her warmth and innocence drain away some of the urgent haste he felt consuming him from inside. Even though she was a child, her size made her heavier than a full-grown woman of the Middle Country.
“Will you come back to the valley of the Lagon?” she asked.
Guin answered honestly. “I do not know. I do not know what will happen. What I do know is that things will go as they are meant to go.”
Rhana furrowed her brow a moment, then she seemed to give up trying to understand. She smiled. “Was the salted meat to your liking?”
“Ah, it was delicious.”
“You want more?”
“No, later,” Guin said, patting Rhana on the head. Her hair was soft and smelled of the sun and chalk powder.
Rhana looked as though she were about to ask another question, when a voice interrupted her.
“Guin, messenger of Aqrra. Kah the Wise wishes words. Please come to his house.” It was one of the two warriors he had seen carrying the elder before. Guin surmised that this man was probably bound to the elder, serving as both his feet and his mouth to deliver such messages.
“Very well,” Guin replied, and followed after him, with Rhana still curled in the crook of one arm.
The house of Kah the Wise was near the top of the stone-built village. Though small, it was immediately recognizable, for it had been crafted with rocks of a reddish hue, perhaps to set it apart from the other dwellings nearby. Guin set Rhana down before the rough-cut door to the elder’s house, and patted her one last time on the head.
The Lagon girl dashed away, frequently glancing back at Guin as she made her way down the village’s sloping main pathway. He watched her leave, then turned and went into the home of Kah the Wise.