The Maker's Son by Clancy Weeks

Author:Clancy Weeks [Weeks, Clancy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9798615389252
Publisher: Avalon Press
Published: 2020-03-01T22:00:00+00:00

Kile’cha examined the array of pigeons before him, each ruffling their feathers and cooing as if a battle did not rage twenty rods beyond the outer fence. They had fluttered back into the compound in twos and threes since sunrise, returning to their last roost. Each stood in the remains of the blasted aviary, pecking at the grain Knect’cha found for them.

“Please tell me there is good news here,” Kile’cha said, paws on his hips. He marveled his new Second was alive after her first battle with the transports on the beach, and even more at the respite that afforded them. Knect’cha had hidden the bears behind grass-covered dunes until the first wave of craft landed, springing to the beach before the invaders organized a defense. While her command routed that group to the last ha’la’ai, the second wave saw and tried to turn, but were too close, and the crashing waves carried them to shore and their waiting deaths. The remaining three waves returned to the squaresails to, Kile’cha assumed, regroup and plan another approach.

“These,” Knect’cha pointed to four birds standing in a tight group, “are coded for Southmost, and are no use to us unless re-trained.” She showed him a group of three, one with scorched feathers on one wing, another having trouble standing. “These are coded for O’rland Tower. Those two on the left are for Forge, this one for Three Rivers.”

“What about those four on the end?”

“Northmost, if you can believe that.” Birds coded for Northmost were less than useless. Even if help came from that tower, a message would take six days—one way.

“Any for the O’rland garrison or Southern Command?”

“None. They are dead or too frightened to return.” It took a great fright indeed to stick in a pigeon’s memory for more than a day, so he assumed they were dead.

Kile’cha stroked the whiskers on his chin, pulling them over and over into a tight point. His command, small as it was, had been incredibly lucky so far. Clearly, the ha’la’ai had seen nothing like Battle Bears, and certainly never fought them. The real luck was Tuk’ch’chet’s suggestion he bring them. It was as if she knew. The suggestion had been unusual for a search and rescue patrol. Their second stroke of luck came in the manner the invading forces coordinated their landing, doing so in waves. It was as if they expected no resistance. Kile’cha was now sure their night vision was less than his people’s. Perhaps I can use that. He was deluding himself. Despite the successes they’d had, the attempt to hold position was doomed. The ha’la’ai now understood he controlled the fort and they would soon counter what defenses he had—even if their only counter was throwing massive numbers of soldiers his way.

“How long to send a bird to O’rland Tower?”

“That does us no good, Cha,” Knect’cha said, shaking her head. “They do not have the resources—”

“How long?”

She stopped and stared, her band bunching. “A clek. Maybe less with favorable winds.” Her face softened as he ruminated.

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