Gana! Kopporu has driven the tribe’s gana into the swamp!
Guo was amazed—and awed—by the ruthlessness of her battle leader’s actions. Very few of the stupid and ungainly gana would survive long in the swamp—especially since the warriors would be too preoccupied to guard over them. The young herders would not, without assistance, be able to prevent the terrified beasts from scattering in fatal confusion.
Guo knew, then, how desperate Kopporu must have been. The gana were the tribe’s most precious possession—except the tribe itself. The battle leader had decided to sacrifice them, in the hopes of drawing the Utuku into a catastrophic trap. By driving the gana into the swamp, Kopporu had ensured that the Utuku would follow. Guo herself, on the front lines, had not seen the gana being driven away. But the Utuku scouts would not have missed it. The Beak of the Utuku would arrive at no other conclusion than that the right flank of the Kiktu—which had inflicted more casualties and humiliation upon her army than the rest of the Kiktu and their allies combined—had finally broken. Routed completely. The Beak would command a major and massive pursuit. She would want to slake her legendary vengefulness; and, besides, she would want the gana herself. And the meat of the Kiktu warriors.
A great wave of sadness threatened, momentarily, to wash over Guo. But she thrust it aside.
Kopporu’s stratagem would not, she knew, win the battle. Even as inexperienced as she was, Guo had seen enough of the disaster on the Kiktu left and center to know that the tribe was doomed. The most that would be accomplished would be a complete mangling of the Utuku left, followed by a last futile charge out of the swamp in the attempt to rescue the center. Kopporu and her warriors would die in that charge, Guo knew.
But we will cost them very, very, very dearly. The Utuku will never forget the terrible Kopporu. And her warriors. And her battlemothers.
The utter ferocity which filled Guo in that moment caused her mantle to positively glow. For just a second, the green undercolor almost dominated. Her flankers saw, and were astonished; and made their own silent grim vows.
Suddenly, the forces of the Opoktu entered the clearing. Not warriors alone, either—Guo was puzzled, at first, to see the two Opoktu mothers and their consorts in the midst of the allied warriors. Then she realized their presence was inevitable. The Opoktu would not have agreed to Kopporu’s plan if it meant sacrificing their mothers. Guo watched as the mothers filed slowly through the clearing and into the depths of the swamp beyond. They would not last much longer than the Opoktu warriors, of course. But Guo had come to admire the Opoktu, in the course of that day. The small tribe was usually spoken of slightingly by the Kiktu—although never, Guo had noticed, by Kopporu or Aktako or Gortoku. But Guo had seen their valor (and cunning) on the battlefield. None of the Opoktu mothers, she knew, would fall alive into the hands of the Utuku, to be made breeding slaves. At the end, the mothers would roll onto their sides, exposing their great underbellies to the mercy strokes of the warriors.
After the Opoktu warriors took their place, the clearing was suddenly filled by the other two battlemothers of the Kiktu right flank, and their flankers. Loapo, she saw with relief, still seemed relatively unhurt (her mantle, of course, carried many fresh flail marks—but those were a trifle, to the vast bulk of a battlemother). But then Oroku entered, and Guo could not prevent herself from hooting with dismay.
The third of the flank’s battlemothers was moving slowly, and obviously in great pain. Her left ped was a maimed ruin—some squad of Utuku must have sacrificed themselves, in the singleminded effort to cripple the battlemother. They had come close to succeeding. And Oroku’s visor was a tattered wreck. Even by the standards of a battlemother, Oroku was slow and clumsy. Where Guo had managed to catch most of the darts piped at her on her shield, Oroku’s visor had borne almost the entire brunt of the missiles. The tough wicker-like visor could only withstand so much punishment, even from light and flimsy blow-darts.