The Brueggen Stones by S. G. Byrd

Author:S. G. Byrd
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Light Messages Publishing
Published: 2022-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

Nine

Prisoners

Gefcla’s army had stopped.

Dawn would arrive soon, and the gray-haired Root Forest men hurriedly slipped poles into slots and pushed long stakes into sand. No one talked. They wanted to get the tents up before the sun rose. The desert heat would still make them suffer, but the shelters would at least keep light from burning their skin.

Stalli raiders had followed the Root Forest army the last half of the night, never coming close enough for the men to see them. They’d been there, however, always there. The army had learned to dread the whizzing of arrows through the air. Whole groups of Root men had collapsed as they walked, killed by an onslaught of arrows, while any Root man who walked apart from the main group stumbled and didn’t get back up.

The army commanders watched from the entrance of their own tent. They still had the bulk of their army, and it greatly outnumbered their foes. That they knew—but the constant raids had irritated like an insect too small to be seen that bites again and again. The two Root men, chief in command under Gefcla himself, scrutinized their swarming men and cursed under their breath in their strange language.

Adult Root Forest men spoke an octave lower than adult Stalli men with many guttural sounds in the Root words that were supposed to be said slowly, though the commanders of Gefcla’s army had learned to talk faster. Slow speech angered Gefcla.

A commotion started up on one side of the campground.

What was it now? Another raid?

Dogor looked first at the horizon, where the sun would soon make its appearance. Only then did he look toward the commotion. He wanted to get inside his tent, and he didn’t want anything to delay him. At his side, Barken started cursing out loud.

“What is it?” Dogor asked the men running toward him.

They cringed at the fury in his voice but answered with excitement and a great deal of pride.

“We have captives, Commanders!”

Barken grinned widely, showing all the spaces in his mouth where his teeth had broken. Dogor stared at the messengers.

“Bring them here. Now.”

All Root men were big-limbed and awkward, but they could hurry when they wanted to, and they almost climbed over each other to obey their commander when he used that tone of voice.

Two Stalli raiders, tied up so that they couldn’t use their arms and could barely move their feet, were pushed and pulled toward the commanders. One of the men had gray streaks in his hair.

Barken laughed and Dogor himself smiled as he said, “Mosquitoes! Is that what has bothered us all night? Little mosquitoes?”

The men did appear puny next to the Root men, and it wasn’t only their undersized heads and hands. Their arms resembled kindling sticks to Gefcla’s army. Their legs weren’t as big as the trunks of a Root Forest bush.

“Har, har, har,” erupted from all the men at Dogor’s joke. “Har, har—” but they stopped laughing when Dogor frowned.

“You have bothered me, mosquitoes. You have gotten in my way.

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