Eric Flint: Mother of Demons

Guo's preconsorts had secured their own place in legend, that day. The Kiktu had had to make another shield afterward. The kraken had made splinters of the one that had been there before. But Guo's malebond had remained at their posts. And had managed, finally, to blind the kraken in one eye.

From that moment, Guo had pressed the fight. In the end, while the entire army watched from the safety of the riverbank, the kraken had tried to flee. To no avail. Guo was in full kuoptu, and had pursued, hammering the monster with her maces, until the great beast was nothing but a mass of bloody flesh drifting with the current.

No, thought Kopporu, the Swamp was not simply a place of horror. It was also the place where the people recovered their soul.

She looked back at the long column behind them. Looking, partly, to reassure herself by its great length that she had saved many people for whatever lay in their future. But also, and more, looking for the signs of that new people's strength.

For it was a new people. Kiktu, still, somewhere at its heart. But Kopporu saw the files of the Opoktu, marching with a dignity they had never possessed, in the days when they had been merely the smallest tribe on the Papti Plains. The Opoktu were small in no one's eyes, now.

She saw also many swamp-dwellers- former swamp-dwellers-scattered here and there, a part of many different battle groups. A cherished part, not a despised one. The southern ex-helots might still-so much could not be denied-remain less adept at battle than Kiktu or Opoktu. But their courage was doubted by none. The tribespeople would have perished, many times over, had it not been for their guides.

Scattered through the battle groups, as well, Kopporu saw many former members of other tribes. Refugees, once; no longer. Honored and respected members of – of what? Kopporu asked herself. What are we now? The tribe called Kiktu? No, no longer. We are not even a tribe, in any proper sense. No clan leaders, outside the Opoktu. Even the clans themselves have gotten vague at their edges, with so many new adopted members.

How many eightdays has it been since I heard a warrior even use the name "Kiktu"? The Opoktu still, on occasion, call themselves by their own name. But, even among them, I have noticed that it is only their clan leaders and old warriors who do so. The rest of the Opoktu simply use the phrases which have become common to the army as a whole.

Kopporu's army. And, more and more often, the Guoktu.

Guo's people.

Ranging further down the column, Kopporu's eyes fell on still another group of gukuy. The sight of them removed all fond memories, and brought the harsh realities of the present back to her mind.

The Utuku captives. And Guo's temper.

If that young fool cannot restrain herself, we will all die.

Guo was not only young, and still given-on occasion-to childish tantrums. But what was worse, knew Kopporu, was that she had not witnessed the demons in battle. Guo herself had been preoccupied throughout the battle, too busy smashing the Utuku before her to pay much attention to anything else.

But Kopporu had seen. Kopporu had commanded the entire battle from the rear, instead of the front lines. It was an unheard of practice among the tribes, but it was one of the Anshac methods which Kopporu had finally been able to implement. And there had been no demurral; not even any whispered private remarks. Aktako would have heard, and told Kopporu, if there had been. The warriors knew that Kopporu's courage had been proven many times before, on many battlefields. And the disaster on the plain had- finally -taught even the proud Kiktu that courage alone was not enough.

So Kopporu had watched-from atop the mantle of the crippled battlemother Oroku. That had been Oroku's own proposal. In such a manner, she had explained to Kopporu, she would still gain honor from the battle, which her maimed and useless ped prevented her from joining directly.

It had proven to be an excellent idea. From that high perch, Kopporu had been able to follow the entire course of the battle. She had been able to send commands to the battle groups, taking advantage of every opening she saw in the Utuku formations.

And she had also been able to watch the other half of the battle. She had been able to see everything. From the moment the first demons began flickering down the slopes of the Chiton and hurled themselves onto the right flank of the Utuku.

It was-like nothing Kopporu had ever seen. Utuku warriors had begun falling dead, eights at a time. By magic, Kopporu thought at first. Until she finally realized what the demons were doing with those strange, huge-darts?

Within moments after the demons appeared, the Utuku right flank had been driven back-the Utuku battle line broken in half. From then on, Kopporu had only to face the Utuku left flank. Even the Utuku center had remained out of action, paralyzed by a small number of flickering demons.

At first, Kopporu had been vastly relieved. It had been such a horrible shock, to come out of the Swamp and run into an Utuku army at the foot of the Chiton, blocking their access to the mountain's hoped-for sanctuary. The despair which had swept over Kopporu in that moment had been the worst she had ever felt in her life. The Utuku army was almost twice the size of her own, and the terrain favored them. The battle would take place in the narrow stretch of land between the slope of the mountain and the river. No way, even, to retreat this time. A river crossing would take far too long, even if another kraken was not encountered.

Seeing no choice, she had ordered the battle groups into line. And prepared to sell their lives dearly.

Until the demons arrived.

Great relief, and gratitude-at first. And still, Kopporu admitted to herself, to this moment.

The demons saved us. Never doubt it.

But, as she watched the demons in battle, another emotion had come to take its place beside the relief and the gratitude.

A great, growing, terrible fear.

I must make Guo understand! She is still so full of pride, because we defeated half of an Utuku army. Routed them. Destroyed them.

But we could not have done it without the demons. And what is more, she must understand that the demons destroyed the other half. A small battle group of demons turned double-eight their number of Utuku into so much scavenger-meat.

And suffered only a few casualties in so doing! Most of them in the center, at the fiercest point of the struggle.

Whereas we-lost many warriors.

Kopporu's greatest moment of fear had come when she saw the killing of the Utuku commander. She had seen a new demon appear, racing down the mountain like the wind. Black as night. Implacable. Racing toward the Utuku center. Other demons had surrounded it and followed. Then had come the-dart.

The black demon had-hurled?-its dart high into the air. So very high. So very far.

At first, Kopporu thought the demon had simply missed its mark-and missed it badly. Until, watching the dart begin its downward course, she realized the truth.

It is not possible, she remembered thinking, as she watched. It is not possible.

But it had been so. The Utuku commander was slain. Struck by lightning from the sky. Dead, Kopporu knew, without ever realizing what caused her doom.

She had known, then, that these were truly demons.

Already, Guo's temper had almost caused disaster. After the Utuku were routed, Kopporu's army had begun slaughtering the survivors. There would be no mercy for any Utuku- especially not for any Utuku with fresh cowl scars. Recent recruits, those were-some of them even former Kiktu, who had eaten their own people to save their worthless lives.

Kopporu's warriors had been particularly vigilant in their search for any such. Vigilant, and vengeful.