There the comparison ended. If a normal mother could be likened to a gigantic St. Bernard, the battlemother on the plain below was like the Fenris wolf of Nordic mythology. Indira winced, watching an Utuku warrior smashed into jelly beneath the battlemother’s club. And another. And another.
“She fights with two clubs, I notice. But the other battlemother only with one.”
“Yes, Inudira. The other battlemother is fighting in the usual manner, with mace and shield. Battlemothers need shields to protect them from darts. They are always the main target of pipers. The one in the center is taking a great risk. She seems to be relying on her visor alone—and that odd shield on her cowl.”
Indira looked for the Utuku pipers. She spotted one almost immediately. Sure enough, the piper was taking aim at the battlemother. Indira held her breath. Suddenly, however, the piper reared back, clawing at her eyes.
At her side, Indira heard Ghodha’s hoot of surprise.
“Look! I did not see them earlier! There are males on the battlemother’s cowl—with pipes! Behind that strange shield. They are protecting her from the pipers.”
Indira looked back. A moment later she saw another Utuku piper reel back.
“Is that common?”
“It is unheard of! True, the Kiktu have the custom that a mother’s consorts are her personal guard of pipers. But it is not taken seriously, even by the Kiktu. Not even the barbarians, for all their loose habits regarding males, allow the silly things to participate in battle. Males are too emotional for battle. They would lose their heads.”
Indira watched another piper blinded. When she spoke, her voice was harsh.
“Welcome to the new world, Ghodha. Where Answers are falling, and Questions are being asked.”
From the corner of her eye, Indira saw Ghodha’s mantle ripple ochre and pink.
Between Ushulubang and myself, she thought fiercely, I intend to see a lot of those colors in the future.
A moment later, she relented.
Ghodha is not, after all, one of Ushulubang’s close apashoc. A new Pilgrim, hoping that there may be an end to evil, somewhere. Selected for her new post not for her profound grasp of the Way, but simply because she is the most experienced war leader among the Pilgrims.
Do not sneer at such people, Professor Toledo. However often they fumble the task, they are the creators of the future.
“Explain to me what you are seeing, Ghodha. You are more experienced in such things than I.”
The warrior’s scarred mantle became tinged with faint green. She began pointing with her palps.
“The Kiktu are fighting better than I have ever seen barbarians fight before. Not as well as the Anshac legions, of course. But better.”
The gesture of grudging admission.
“Much better, in fact. You see how they are not simply swarming mindlessly, as usual?”
Indira looked again. After a moment, she saw what Ghodha was pointing to. Order began to appear out of chaos.
“They are fighting in organized groups. I can see it now. Sloppy, I think, but—organized.”
“Yes. They are very sloppy.” A whistle of derision. “You should see the Anshac legions!”
Again, pink and ochre rippled.
“What am I saying? Even the Anshac are nothing, compared to your own ummun apalatunush.”
Ghodha turned and looked to the south. Indira’s eyes followed. Ludmilla and Takashi’s warriors were racing back and forth, slicing the Utuku flank to ribbons. The platoons had broken into squads, now, each of which operated independently—but still within the organized control of their leaders.
Indira turned and pointed back to the west.
“Explain further.”
Ghodha looked away, slowly. Indira was amused at the veteran warrior’s obvious reluctance to forego the pleasure of watching master craftsmanship in her trade.
A moment later, Ghodha continued.
“The Kiktu possess three strengths in the art of battle. As individuals, their warriors are excellent. It cannot be denied. There are none on the Meat of the Clam who surpass them in the use of fork-and-flail, and few who can claim to be their equal. Look there! You will see what I mean.”
Indira followed Ghodha’s pointing palp. She saw, at the edge of the battle, that a Kiktu had somehow managed to lure a single Utuku away from the lines. The single combat which followed was horrifyingly brutal, but illuminating. The Kiktu warrior picked apart the Utuku’s clumsy defenses. Within seconds, the Utuku shield was stripped away by a flail-blow that was almost too fast for Indira to follow. Seconds later, the Utuku’s right ped was a bloody mass of shredded flesh, and the Utuku slumped. A split-second later, the Kiktu’s fork slammed into the left side of her opponent’s mantle. The Kiktu threw herself to the side, levering the Utuku onto her back. The four flail-strokes which followed completely disemboweled the doomed warrior.