The Lead Crown: Ch 3b, The Prodigy (Pt 3)
Tranquil Waters: The Lead Crown Ch 3-3, The Prodigy
The past several days had been a rush of activity for Prince Malcom. While a trip between the Yew Tribe and River Tribe villages was nothing special, the wolf and his otter escort were set upon by slavers from the Bone Tribe. The jackals had struck quickly and without warning, subduing and carrying off two of Malcom's allies before anyone had registered what had happened. At that point, the only thing that had saved the prince's other two escorts was Berro.
Prince Malcom glanced to the large timber wolf; Berro was idly lounging on the collection of reeds that served as the burrow's bed. The feral wolf stared back, his eyes glinting in the half-light permitted in by the semi-subterranean structure's thin, squat window holes. The burrow was small enough that the prince was easily able to reach across the distance and rub his companion behind the ear. Berro closed his eyes, leaning his head into the affections.
Malcom stroked the wolf's cheek fur, and then lowered his paw to gently caress the large gemstone Berro wore around his neck-- what the tribesmen called a Yio Vahn, or 'bonding stone'. "Good thing you were there." The feral wolf nosed Malcom's own Yio Vahn in return. When the young prince had been given over to the tribesmen one of the first secrets he had learned was the truth about what the people of Lehsunia called "the skin changers". There were rumors among the kingdom that the tribal people could take the form of animals... the truth, however was far less magical, but far more meaningful... and the prince had found out first-hand.
The bearers of a Bonding Stone did so only once they had proven themselves worthy of being a Two Soul. What the people of Lehsunia assumed was a single person able to take two forms was, in fact, two separate beings capable of such emotional and mental closeness that they could as well have been one person. Malcom had encountered Berro years ago as a lone pup being attacked by a mountain lion and, upon returning to the Oak Tribe with the tiny wolf in his arms, the people had readily noticed; both had been wounded by the feline's claws identically, and they took that as a sign.
Being a Two Soul was a distinct honor, and he spent most of his adolescent years learning more and more about the title. In the end, both he and Berro grew up, and grew together; he couldn't imagine life without the big bottomless pit. As if on cue, the large, feral wolf gave out a lazy, "Rughf."
Malcom rolled his eyes, "We just ate two hours ago."
"Rughf."
The prince smiled, and opened one of the pouches on his belt; he tossed a good-sized hunk of bone to his companion, chiding, "You're not really hungry... you just want something to keep those overactive jaws of your busy."
Berro stopped complaining, letting out a complacent "uf." and he started in right away on his 'chew toy'.
Malcom closed his belt pouch, adding, "But only because you're a hero."
In truth, the otters of the River Tribe considered them both to be the main reason why the Bone Tribe didn't manage to kidnap any of the escort group sent to collect the Prince. When the tribes went to war (or in the case of slavery attempts by the Bone Tribe), there was rarely true violence involved. All the battles were symbolic and had set rules of conduct. Many of them, in fact, were staged events... some even held yearly, much like sporting competitions, or arranged to settle disputes without bloodshed.
Rather than fight to the death, the entire affair was more of a large game (albeit, a very serious game) with all warriors brandishing clubs called Fosha-Hek. They were soft wood wrapped with Fosha, a type of spongy moss that stained fur upon impact. Any warrior struck by the club would be marked and would be considered defeated. In the case of the Bone Tribe, the slavers used the clubs to indicate who they would be taking hostage.
The half-dozen jackals that had descended upon Malcom and his allies as they traveled most likely weren't aware that the Prince was a Two Soul; slavers never attacked groups that included them for one very important reason: animals didn't do 'bloodless'. It did not take much convincing to get the Bone Tribe slavers to release the two captured otters in exchange for Berro not biting through the neck of the jackal he'd pounced. The skirmish ended amicably and the two parties went their separate ways. Malcom had spent the last two days settling in at the River Tribe village and reacquainting himself with their mud-and-hay ditch huts.
Out of all of the tribes, the Prince took note that the River Tribe was most like the people of Lehsunia. Although some family groups traveled between one of three villages, most were settled and stayed in one place year round. Yes, they believed in the spirits the same way the other tribes did, but the otter folk also believed in a single god, albeit, not precisely in the same way the Lehsunians did. Also, the River Tribe wed, and maintained monogamous relationships which, for the most part, was different than how the other tribes addressed a much more 'open' tribal version of marriage.
A call from one of the many window openings in Malcom's hut pulled his attention to the present, "Young-Chief?" The tribesmen had no word for 'Prince', and so they had made due with a rough equivalent.
Malcom recognized the voice, and so called out to the otter by name, "Hello, Friend-Tein, please enter."
The black-and-gray otter moved around to the entrance and placed his paw to his muzzle, then to the doorway; it was a spiritual gesture of thanks for being provided shelter. "It is good to see you again, Young-Chief."
The wolf was uncertain if the otter's formality was just him being playful or if there was a reason for it. Malcom gestured to one of his hut's two clay pillars the River Tribes used as stools and decided to switch to using the otter's common name, "Is something wrong, Friend-Waterside?"
The otter sat down, rubbing a section of his chest fur where the black-and-gray created several lines of 'zebra striping' and nodded. Waterside looked up, his brown eyes holding within them a hint of concern, "Our traders have been hearing many things about the Men of Symbol from the Stone Tribe... and The People are worried."
Malcom nodded in thought for a moment, stroking his muzzle for a time before he opened it to speak, "When I was among the Yew Tribe I heard that they were getting closer to the forests, and that they were chasing after others from the Stone Tribe."
Waterside fidgeted, his webbed digits wringing together in his lap, "The Men of Symbol have moved into the forest... in large numbers."
The prince paused, licking his suddenly very-dry muzzle. If the Church was sending THAT many people into the tribe lands... "Does the Yew Tribe know?"
The otter's expression was somewhat helpless, "The last we heard from them was that they had interfered with the Men of Symbol by aiding those they hunted."
Malcom's next words were whispered in his native tongue, "Oh my god..."
Waterside didn't know the common tongue, but the context and tone were not lost to him, "Malcom..." the otter paused, having switched from a formal title to his private name, "... Malcom... the last time the Men of Symbol where in the tribe lands in these numbers..."
The wolf nodded, "I know, Tien... the Birch Tribe."
"Can you do anything to help them? The Yew Tribe are our allies."
Malcom nodded, "They are mine as well." and he glanced over to Berro and called him by his translated name in common "Gut!"
The large timber wolf looked up and cocked his head to the side; Berro was taught in the tribal tongue and common depending on the need, "Owr?"
"Get the cage."
The four-legged wolf stood, hopped off the reeds, stretched, and trotted out the door at a quick pace, "Orf."
Waterside remained where he was, and spoke again before after Berro walked out, "The Yew Tribe have Phantoms... they should be able to alert the village when they see the Men of Symbol... but they have so few Two-Souls."
Malcom shook his head, "The Stone Tribe are not worried about Two-Souls, Friend-Waterside... they treat them like any other foe."
The otter was taken aback, "But, the Bonded will--"
The Prince shook his head again, "The Stone Tribe do not use Fosha clubs... they kill their foes the same as a Bonded does."
Waterside was struck dumb. There was a long pause before he was able to speak again, "But... that is... savage."
Malcom nodded, "Yes it is."
The discussion came to a close as Berro returned to the den, gripping the handle of Malcom's small pigeon cage in his muzzle, "Nghf." he announced around a mouth full of wicker, and the wolf set the covered cage on the ground by the Prince's feet.
The otter's little round ears went up immediately, obviously recognizing the container, "Your birds?"
Prince Malcom nodded, "Yes... I can send messages. With the right words we can hopefully avoid any bloodshed." He didn't recall exactly how many pigeons he had available or how many were currently out with missives, but he hoped he'd have enough for the correspondences he had in mind. Slowly taking the cover off of the cage, his heart dropped-- he had far fewer than he would have liked, which meant his job was that much harder.