Eric Flint - Mother of Demons

Suddenly, the demon Dzhenushkunutushen gestured toward the litter, and Nukurren realized that they were arguing about her.

"The black one wants to kill us," whispered Dhowifa.

Nukurren made the gesture of tentative doubt. "I don't think so. He is implacable, that is true-"

"His color doesn't mean anything, I keep telling you," interrupted Dhowifa crossly.

"It does not matter. He would be implacable, whatever his color. It is in the nature of the monster. But-I do not believe he is cruel. And there is no reason, now, to kill us. They could have done it right after the battle, or at any time since."

"Then why-" Nukurren silenced her lover with a hiss. She was too engrossed by the interaction among the demons to be distracted.

Suddenly, she understood. The black demon, she had known for days, was the commander. The female demon Ludumila, she suspected, was his lieutenant. But she had been unable, before now, to determine the exact position of the white demon Dzhenushkunutushen.

Yet now, analyzing the exchange between the strangest creatures she had ever encountered, she knew Dzhenushkunutushen's position. And knew him, for all that he was a monster.

He was her. Just so, in times past, had Nukurren confronted an officer in the legions, when an issue had been of such importance as to require that a leader of warriors make a stand. Officers were to be respected and obeyed, of course. But, on occasion, it was also necessary to bring them to heel.

The demon shouting became very loud.

"They're going to start fighting!" hissed Dhowifa with alarm. His mantle rippled pink and red.

"No," said Nukurren firmly. "The black demon is a good officer, I think. And so he will yield."

The black demon made a sudden spreading motion with his limbs. He barked a sharp sound. Dzhenushkunutushen fell silent, though he remained stiff and erect. Very tense, Nukurren thought, interpreting the demon's posture as best she could.

Very tense, but, I think, satisfied.

A moment later, the black demon began barking commands and pointing to various of the demons gathered about. Almost at once, the litter was picked up by four of the demons, including the black demon and Dzhenushkunutushen. Nukurren and Dhowifa suddenly found themselves being carried up the trail at a much more rapid pace than ever before. Soon the fortification was left far behind.

Nukurren was deeply impressed by the rapidity of their travel. She realized that the black demon had selected the four largest demons to carry the litter. All of them, she noted, were male. Still, Nukurren thought that she outweighed any one of the demons, even Dzhenushkunutushen, by a large margin. It would have been difficult for four large gukuy to carry her at a normal walking pace, much less at the astonishing speed with which the demons were climbing the trail.

Two other demons accompanied the party, stick-pedding alongside. One of them was Ludumila. She was the only female demon still present. Ludumila was large for a female demon, taller than most of the males, if not as tall as Dzhenushkunutushen and the black one. But she was less massive, especially in her upper mantle. The female demons, Nukurren concluded, were capable of the same speed and agility as the males, but lacked the sheer strength.

Nukurren was surprised, therefore, some time later, when Ludumila replaced one of the male demons carrying the litter. The transfer took place with only a moment's interruption, and the litter was soon moving along as rapidly as before. As time went on, the demons carrying Nukurren and Dhowifa were regularly replaced by one of those who had been able to rest for a time, unburdened by the litter.

These are the most terrifying warriors who ever walked the Meat of the Clam, she thought. If they are numerous, no army could stand against them. Not even the legions of mighty Ansha.

Soon they reached a crest and entered a plateau. The demons began traveling faster still. Shortly thereafter, Nukurren lapsed into semi-consciousness. Dimly, vaguely, she heard Dhowifa conversing with the demon Ludumila.

Nukurren must rest! She is sick!

Soon. Soon.

She will die if she does not rest!

She will die if we do not get her to (strange human word-a name, Nukurren thought). Soon! That is why we left the owoc behind and are carrying you ourselves. Dzhenush (the shortened name for Dzhenushkunutushen, Nukurren knew; odd; few gukuy used diminutive names) insisted. Short barks-laughter. I thought (again, a strange word-the name of the black demon, perhaps) was going to burst a (unknown phrase). It's not often someone gets in his face like that! Short barks. It's good for him.

A short silence. Then: That's Dzhenush. Even in her fevered state, Nukurren could not miss the affection in the bizarre demon voice.

Such strange creatures, with strange customs. Only among the barbarian tribes do officers mate with common warriors. But I do not think these are barbarians. I do not know what they are. Can demons be civilized? I hope not. No Kiktu barbarian was ever as cruel as Ansha.

But her ability to reason was vanishing, splintered by pain. One last, fleeting thought: The demon Dzhenushkunutushen is a warrior, but not, I think, a common one. Nor was I. Nor was I.

Everything faded into an incomprehensible blur. All that remained was the sense of Dhowifa's little body nestled in her mantle, blessedly cool against the scorching heat of the fever; and the tender stroking of his arms.

PART III: The Weft

Long before the battle ended, Kopporu knew the Kiktu were defeated. More than defeated. Crushed.

The outcome would have been certain even if the leader of the left flank, Ototpo, had not led an insane charge at the very beginning of the fray. The charge had shattered against the disciplined ranks of the Utuku. Ototpo herself had been slain, along with most of the main battle leaders of the left flank. A few of the survivors of the charge had attempted to make a stand, but they had not lasted long under the weight of the Utuku counterattack.

From that moment, the Utuku pressed their advantage remorselessly. They did not move quickly, true. Utuku tactics were designed to maximize their strengths-great numbers and rigid discipline. The Utuku warriors shuffled forward, mantle to mantle, grinding down everything before them. There was no room in that press for the clever fork-and-flail work in which the Kiktu excelled. Forks were useless, and in that style of combat the Kiktu were at a disadvantage against the heavily armored and shielded Utuku.

The Utuku ground forward, rolling up the Kiktu from right to left. Under their peds, the fern-like uyi which covered the entire central plain from the ocean to the Pokta Mountains was mashed to pulp. By routing the left wing of the Kiktu at the beginning of the battle, the Utuku insured that their enemy could not escape the trap created by the stupidity of its leaders. The route to possible escape led to the south, away from the Lolopopo swamp. There, in the flat vastness of the Papti Plain, the Kiktu might have eluded their slower-moving enemy. (The plan which Kopporu had tried, and failed, to get adopted by her tribe relied precisely on that vastness and Kiktu mobility for its eventual success.)

But that route was now closed off by the defeat of the left flank. Even had the war leader of the Kiktu been a quick-thinking realist, Giakta could not have marshalled her loosely organized army quickly enough to slip out of the trap that was closing in. The fleeing survivors of the left flank were spreading confusion and dismay among the warriors of the center. Even from a distance, Kopporu could see that the center of the Kiktu host was a swirling mass of chaos.

The Utuku did not fail to close the trap. Their greater numbers allowed their commanders to continually outflank the Kitku without easing up the relentless pressure of their front ranks. Slowly, but surely, the advance elements of the Utuku right curved northeast, until they reached the edge of the Lolopopo. The Kiktu were surrounded. The enemy on three sides; the swamp on the fourth.