Taking a route around the city of Wellent, Taradira and her people moved north, now flanked by armed cavalry. After finding nothing objectionable, the patrol offered to lead them to Olentor, where she could speak with Linara. Taradira gladly accepted.

  Several days into their travel, a messenger came back, with word from Olentor. Not only Linara, but the king himself wanted to speak with her. While the soldiers met this news with hushed whispering, Taradira expected it, and took it in stride.

  “Why not send word ahead?” Thoms asked as they marched.

  “These people are on edge. They were expecting us to turn and invade their lands after we finished with Celngi. Announcing a movement would make them suspicious. They may have even denied it outright, or set terms, trying to control the situation. If they had only allowed me to come with a small number of followers, it would take longer. Instead I show up with several hundred men, unarmed, untrained, and simply state my purpose, they can’t turn me away without looking like they are the hostile ones, so they let us in.”

  Nodding, he fell silent, contemplating. The two hadn’t talked much since Taradira agreed to allow him to come with her, and she still regretted her drug-fueled outburst at the time. Luckily she had managed the rest of Selveren’s experiments without further incident.

  When they arrived at Olentor, Taradira repeated her trick. She picked Thoms, Selveren, and Nenhal to accompany her into the city, leaving Zasthagel, the forest Hatharen, and the human settlers to camp outside the walls. The guards didn’t object to her demands, allowing the four of them to enter and guiding them to the royal palace.

  Rather than a small, private meeting with Linara, Taradira was brought to the throne room, in front of the king and queen on their thrones, with two Hatharen women standing off to one side - Linara, who Taradira recognized, and another Hatharen that she did not. Frowning, she studied this person, until the king cleared his throat and addressed her.

  “Congratulations on your recent victory, General Suladan.” He said, his voice level. Forty guards lined the side walls of the room, and a man in armor stood behind the throne, a sword on his hip. The two Hatharen were notably unarmed, but Taradira knew that mattered little, at least for Linara.

  “Thank you, but I have stepped down from that position. I have another purpose now, an older one, regarding my own people.”

  “I am told you bring a company of farmers through my lands. Explain your mission to me.”

  Taradira considered for a moment before she spoke. “I wish to put them to work rehabilitating the Hatharen strongholds. Our people are dwindling in number. The farmers are there to assist the existing population. I’m also gathering as many Hatharen as I can, to bring them home for the same reason.”

  Linara’s mouth twitched downward, showing the briefest of frowns. The other Hatharen didn’t react at all - she hadn’t even looked at Linara, instead staring idly at the opposite wall.

  “Selveren is Ferene’s father. Nenhal is from a group of outcasts, the rest of which are waiting outside, along with Zasthagel, who Linara sent to me. Selveren is working on fixing his face.”

  While the king looks confused, Linara frowns, then leans over to whisper to the king. He nods, then waves her back. “Lady Taradira. I will allow you audience with the Ladies Linara and Atheyara, but they will only be leaving of their own free will. They are both in the care of Olentor.”

  Taradira noticed two things. First, the king spoke firmly, without fear or hesitation, not intimidated by her at all. Second, the Hatharen beside Linara - Atheyara - reacted to those words, a look of relief washing over her face, her gaze finally moving from the spot on the wall to look at Taradira curiously.

  “I understand, Your Majesty.”

  The four of them left the throne room, following the two Hatharen women through a door, down a hallway, and into a meeting room with a large, long table lined with chairs.

  “Tell me exactly what you are doing.” Linara said, not even waiting for anyone to sit down. “Rehabilitation? We don’t need that.”

  “I’m going to end the war.”

  Linara’s mouth formed a tight line. “You’re making an army. The humans…the humans are replacements?”

  “Substitutes. They will watch over things. Every stronghold keeps a set amount of its population back. We can lower than number. Not to zero, but lower than it is, for a longer time.”

  For a moment, she just stared, her expression the same as before. “Well, good luck with that.”

  “You won’t be joining me?”

  “I do not belong up there. I am going to make my own place here. I have a son to worry about now.”

  “What-“

  “You were able to breed?” Selveren cut in, stepping forward to look at Linara closely. “With a human, or a Hatharen? What were the circumstances? Tell-“

  “No. I’ve adopted her son, from a human.” She pointed at Atheyara, who stood behind Linara, cowering despite the difference in their height. “Don’t tell anyone about it. That’s my reason for not leaving, and you don’t need to know any more.”

  “I’d love to know more about hybrids from Hatharen mothers. My own daughter is from a human mother, so the differences between the two of-“

  “Selveren, enough!” Taradira barked. The man straightened and stepped back to her side, his enthusiasm vanishing. “You see that he’s far worse than his daughter.”

  “I figured that when you mentioned he was going to fix Zasthagel’s face.”

  “So, Atheyara. Will you join me?”

  Rather than speaking, the other Hatharen shook her head, staying behind Linara.

  “Why?”

  “She’s a social exile. From what I gather, she’s useless in a fight, which is why she was sent here to act as emissary. Leave her alone.”

  “Fine, fine. The two of you, and your son, can stay. I was hoping to have someone else that was familiar with human warfare, but I’ll make do without you.”

  Linara returned a predatory grin, only for it to waver. “When you get to Aesulthal, find Faltare and tell her that I miss her.”

  “Your mother? Certainly.”

  Six stood on one side of the room. A familiar sight by now. A traditional Hatharen family on one side - the elders of the stronghold - and Ferene, Grathen, and the three that were summoned on the other.

  One of the elders approached Ferene, extending an empty hand. “Your dagger.”

  Ferene drew the weapon and presented it handle first. The elder took it, examined it, and gave it back to her. “You have been accepted in Yonthal, yet you come here on your father’s claim. Rensaro, Eltdira, what do you think? Is this a daughter of Selveren?”

  Two of the summoned turned to look at Ferene, silently looking her over. The man spoke first. “I can see him in her.”

  “The eyes.” The woman said, nodding. “She could be Selveren’s daughter.”

  The elder nodded, then turned to the other summoned woman. “Tilhana, is this your sister?”

  “No.”

  The answer was immediate, Tilhana not turning to look at Ferene as the other two did. She frowned, her brows tight.

  “You say that without examining her.”

  “I am the daughter of Elisere. As she had no other children, I have no siblings.”

  The elder sighed. “Do you believe that this girl is the daughter of Selveren?”

  This time, Tilhana turned and stared at Ferene, meeting her gaze and holding it for a moment before looking back to the elder. “I have no idea.”

  That sent a delayed murmur through the elders, some of them reacting before the others.

  “May I go now?”

  The elder ignored the statement, turning instead to Grathen, extending a hand and saying something in Hatharen. Grathen responded, and another murmur went through the other assembled elders.

  “I was born in the stronghold of Ravthal, thousands of years ago. My name is Grathen. We did not carry daggers with our stories at that time.”

  Grathen spoke so that she could understand, and she saw that some of the elders didn’t understand, only reacting after a whispered translation.

  “And you claim this is Selveren’s daughter?”

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  “I have met with Selveren. He knew the human woman that gave birth to Ferene. I have no doubts that she is his daughter. I have even witnessed similar patterns. They are both stubborn to the point of obsessiveness, though about different subjects.”

  The elder chuckled, breaking the mood of the gathering. “I know someone else who displays such a trait.” He looked at Tilhana, who glared back at him. “Tilhana, I’m assigning these two to your care while they stay with us.”

  “Why can’t those two take them?” She said, pointing at Eltdira and Rensaro.

  “Are you looking to defy the council of elders again, Tilhana?”

  Her response was not something Ferene understood. Tilhana turned and walked out of the building, Grathen following her. Ferene did the same.

  “My mother died because of him.”

  She spoke the words without looking back, walking away from the large building, out into the maze of other wooden structures. The stronghold only vaguely resembled a small human village, the differences showing in a lack of proper streets, and no defined property boundaries like fences around the houses.

  “My mother died and he wasn’t there. I had to find him later and ask him why.”

  Tilhana clicked her tongue. “He was busy with his research.”

  “He didn’t even know where she went, or why. He didn’t know I was his daughter.”

  “That’s him.”

  “He wants to do better. To fix his mistakes. He told me. He tried to listen to me.”

  Her initial response was in her own language, followed by a statement Ferene could understand. “He’ll always be himself.”

  “I spent most of my life hating him.”

  “And now?”

  “He’s just…sad. I can’t hate him. It isn’t worth it.”

  Tilhana stopped, turning to look back at Ferene, confusion on her face. “He had the power to make your life better. If he had been better, you might even speak his language. Instead you’re just a sad, pathetic little girl who needs a translator to fit in with your father’s people. He might have failed you worse than he failed me. This is where you’ll stay.” She pointed behind her, towards a small wooden structure with a door. “I live over there. If you need anything, ask me. It is my duty to help you, and unlike Selveren, I’ll actually carry out my duty. If you don’t need anything, leave me alone.” She walked away, towards a larger building, nestled against another.

  “So, that’s your sister.” Grathen said. “I think you two will get along.”

  Ferene didn’t respond, instead walking towards the house. Pushing the door open, she saw a single room inside, with two beds, two chairs, and a table, all covered in a layer of dust. “What was this place for?”

  “Different strongholds have different customs to follow. Could be any number of things. We’ll have to start with some cleaning.”

  Aesuthal was the largest of the strongholds, at the southeast side of the mountains, where they met the eastern sea. Two mountains stood at the end, and in the valley between them nested Aesuthal. Taradira and her company followed a narrow, snaking road to make their way to the stronghold.

  Taradira had been here once before, so she was prepared for it. Nenhal and the other forest dwellers, however, saw it for the first time and stopped to stare. The grass covered valley was dotted with small collections of houses, spread out leisurely, not huddled together for safety. A river ran along one side, falling from high up in the mountains. Many houses stood beside the river, but just as many lay elsewhere. The entire valley was the stronghold.

  “H-how many Hatharen are here?”

  “Likely twice as many as any other stronghold. Perhaps slightly over a thousand.”

  “That’s so many!” Nenhal responded, staring out at the view before her.

  “There are less than ten thousand of your people all told?” Thoms asked, from his place beside her. “And you want to fight a war?”

  “It will be enough. The number will only go down over time, as it has for the past five thousand years, if not longer. It will be enough.”

  He fell silent at that, and Taradira turned, looking up at the cliffs behind her. She saw them, waiting, watching - a group of Hatharen, standing on narrow footpaths, bows in hand, watching. She waved this time, letting them know she could see them. One jumped, sliding down the cliff face and landing in front of her.

  “Taradira. You bring a lot of visitors. More than we ever expected.”

  “I want to talk to the elder. I also have a message for Faltare.”

  “You brought humans.” The woman replied, stressing the last word. “A lot of humans. Why?”

  “I will explain it to the elder.”

  She walked off, a look of annoyance on her face.

  “That didn’t sound like a friendly exchange.” Thoms said from her side.

  “I am breaking customs, but these customs need to be broken. Some will be opposed to it until they understand the entirety of what I intend to do.”

  Aesuthal’s elder came out to meet Taradira. He was short for a Hatharen, only coming up to her chest. He didn’t look at her, instead casting his gaze over the path behind her, taking count of her followers.

  “No.”

  “You haven’t-“

  “I don’t have to listen to you.” He spoke firmly, loudly, talking over her without yelling. “This is my domain, and mine alone. You will not bring these humans into the stronghold. I will not allow it.”

  “I will gather all who will listen and explain myself to them.”

  “Do what you will. Who are they?” He pointed at Nenhal and the Hatharen standing with her.

  “I found them in the human lands.”

  “Who are they, Taradira?”

  She smiled. “People who believe in what I’m trying to do.”

  The elder’s passive expression broke as he frowned at her. “Can they fight?”

  The smile remained on her face. “That’s why they are with me. They will fight for me. If you want what I want, they can fight for you.”

  Taking a deep breath, his expression softened. “You’re going to hold a gathering regardless, aren’t you? Do it, then. I’ll be there. We will hear you one time, together. Until then, your humans stay outside. Including that one.” He jabbed a finger at Thoms, before raising the same hand to signal to the Hatharen above.

  “I don’t think he likes me.”

  “He doesn’t like humans. The agreement between Aesuthal and Olentor was made to exploit the humans for Aesuthal’s gain. It being mutually beneficial comes from a misunderstanding of what the humans value.” She looked back at the column of wagons. “I’ll leave you in charge and take all of the Hatharen with me. Try to keep the people calm, this might take most of the day.”

  “They are used to camping while waiting for you. I’ll tell them this is the last time.”

  “Thank you, Thoms.”

  They walked back together, Taradira sending a runner to gather all the Hatharen. Selveren, Zasthagel, and the rest of the forest Hatharen. When they gathered, she addressed them all.

  “I want you all to stand with me when I explain my plan to the stronghold. I want them to see that I am not acting alone. I want them to know that what I am talking about can be done. We already have the start of it. Many of them will agree with my words, but they will be hesitant to break from their traditions alone. They need to know that they will not be alone. Just as I welcomed you, you will need to welcome them. There will be a lot of them. More than you’ve ever seen together before. If Aesuthal backs me, the other strongholds will follow easily.”

  “What if they don’t?” Zasthagel asked.

  “Then I talk to individuals. Gather as many as I can, and go to the other strongholds, and do the same. Talk to every single Hatharen alone, and bring them to my side one at a time. One way or another, I will have my army. I will bring an end to this war.”

  He nodded, running a hand over his face. Taradira watched the motion, still finding it odd to see his face unmarred. Selveren had performed a procedure that involved cutting away the bone of his face to remove the metal bits that prevented the brand wound from closing, thus bringing an end to Zasthagel’s perpetual bleeding, and removing the mark of his crime. Taradira cared more about having him on her side, and bringing along a marked exile would hurt her cause. Letting Selveren tinker with Zasthagel’s face kept him distracted from trying to convince her to drink more fertility concoctions.

  “All of you put your trust in me,” she said, taking her eyes off him and looking around at the rest of her followers. “If I can make a good appeal, we won’t have to do that. The presentation will help with that. This is the easy part of what we need to do, so let’s do it.”

  Taradira walked into the valley, followed by the other Hatharen. She locked her gaze on the river, where the highest concentration of houses stood. She made her way over there. On the way, a lone woman approached her, wearing a simple long dress. “Taradira!” She called out, trotting towards them.

  “I have a message for you, from Linara.”

  Faltare stopped, pausing to look at Taradira, then the rest of the Hatharen gathered. Her eyes narrowed. “Did something happen?”

  “She declined my invitation to join me.” Taradira quickly explained. “She wanted me to tell you that she misses you. She is…in a complicated situation, which I can explain to you in private. I think she wanted me to tell you about it, though she didn’t say so directly. I have my own business to take care of first.”

  “Can I help, then?”

  Taradira smiled. “Of course. I’m going to make an announcement, and I need to gather as many as possible, as soon as possible. Can you spread the word? I’ll be by the river.”

  Faltare glanced at the group again, tilting her head slightly before she nodded. “I’ll see that it gets done.”

  They went their separate ways, Taradira making her way to the river, finding a clearing downstream of the village, with a large boulder. Climbing on top of it, she started giving orders, arranging her people around her, facing outwards. Her activities drew the attention of several Hatharen nearby, who stopped to watch her. She locked on to this, turning towards them and raising her voice.

  “Bring everyone here.” She spoke forcefully, the same way she’d order around humans. The group of six paused, looking at each other, before four of them ran off, the last two staring at Taradira and her entourage.

  Slowly, the area started filling with Hatharen. At first a few dozen, then a hundred, then another. When she figured there were some four hundred present, fanned out around her, she took a deep breath.

  “I’m glad you all came here. I am Taradira. I was born in Vilventhal, and fought for my stronghold. My entire family was killed north of the mountains. I brought back the head of the enemy strategist, a type of creature we had never seen before. I realized then that our culture is dedicated to fighting a war with no plan of winning. My family died without bringing us closer to an end to the fighting. Our people have fought and died for thousands of years without taking a single step towards victory. Rather than be placed into a new family and rejoin the fight, I left. I went south, to the human lands. I saw them fight war after war. Wars that ended. They conquered each other and started more wars. I learned how they fight, how they win. They gave me a name and a title. I became General Taradira Suladan.”

  She paused, looking around, watching the reactions to what she said. There were a lot of confused looks, whispering, watching. She continued, projecting her voice over the crowd, the way she had done again and again to her armies.

  “I want to end our war. I want to gather a proper army and march north, find the strongholds of the monsters and put an end to their attacks. I want to ensure the safety of our people. Our strongholds are half empty, filled with abandoned houses. Our numbers dwindle as we see our friends leave for the north, never to return. You’ve all experienced it.”

  Again, she paused. There was no more confusion. They were watching her more intently, whispering amongst themselves louder.

  “If we continue as we have, we will become extinct. We have ignored this fact for too long, ignoring the futility of what we do, adhering to traditions blindly. Maybe you think that the monsters will just vanish. Maybe you think that you are invincible, that if you train harder and fight better you’ll be able to protect everyone around you. Maybe you never thought about it at all. Think about it now. We will all die. Our strongholds will become entirely empty. Unless we do something different. Unless we break tradition.”

  She gestured to the Hatharen she had brought with her, and then formed three rows, standing shoulder to shoulder. Nenhal stood alone in front, farthest from Taradira. This motion drew the eyes of the spectators.

  “There is a chance that we march to our deaths. But what does that matter, when doing as we have been will lead to the same conclusion? We can risk our lives trying to save ourselves from extinction, or we can wait for our eventual deaths. I will fight. I ask you to fight with me.”