'Who can stand against such prowess?' one man cried, and was greeted with much punching of the air.
As they mounted up, Carnelian looked among the women searching for Osidian and was puzzled when he could not see him anywhere. Searching among the warriors, he saw Ravan and Krow. He frowned. It was strange to see them separated from Osidian.
'Our prayers go with you all,' Ginkga cried, making the best of a bad situation.
Take your strength from the Earth and your courage from the Sky,' cried Harth, looking morose.
Akaisha was trying to conceal her worry. 'May the Mother and the Skyfather bring you back safely.'
Cacophony broke out as women called out their men's love names; mothers the names of their sons; daughters their fathers'. Catching Akaisha's eye, Carnelian gave her a salute and she replied with a curt nod. Sil was there beside her and Poppy. He waved at them and they waved back.
The warband rode out on this swell of anxious love, perhaps two hundred of them, following the trail their enemies had left churned into the mud.
The pace dropped as the camp fell out of sight. Word was passed round that they must conserve the strength of their aquar for the coming battle. Their ardour seemed harder to keep alight once they were all alone cantering across grey desolation. Even the sky seemed to be against them, dashing its downpour mercilessly against their faces as they rode along the muddy trail.
Sharing the increasing feeling of unease, Carnelian looked to the Elders who were riding up ahead. For a while now they had been in discussion amongst themselves, often looking back with anxious faces. At last they broke apart and began falling back, calling a halt. It was Galewing, frowning, who announced that they had chosen Crowrane to be their leader. Loskai looked smug as his father surveyed the warband.
'Organize yourselves according to your hunts.'
As everyone moved their aquar in the direction of their hunt leader, a melee ensued in which unease flared to anger and loud recriminations. Shouting commands, the Elders rode round the edges trying to untangle the situation.
Eventually, Carnelian found himself with Fern, Ravan, Krow and the others of his old hunt in a clump in front of Crowrane. Loskai regarded them with satisfaction. One of the youngsters asked if their raid was going to be like hunting and Crowrane slapped him down in a way that only served to betray how thin was his composure.
'What do we do next?' asked Ravan, loudly.
Crowrane fixed him with a scowl. 'We send scouts to locate the enemy.'
All the Elders who had been auxiliaries wanted to go. Confusion reigned once more, until Galewing's hunt was nominated to go scouting. The rest remained behind under Crowrane's authority. With Loskai as his lieutenant, the Elder busied himself making all manner of elaborate arrangements that seemed to serve no purpose but to make them acknowledge he was their commander.
As they waited, they dismounted and walked about. Carnelian surveyed the people round him with foreboding. Even through their warpaint, the youngsters seemed pale and sick. Most of the men were convincing as warriors only when they were conscious they were being looked at. There was nothing to do; nothing to think about except the coming battle.
Carnelian noticed Krow kept scanning the blank horizon. What was Osidian up to? He was amused to see the youngsters drawn to Fern, whose brass collar perhaps lent him a military aura.
When the scouting party was sighted returning, Crowrane gave in to the pleas of the youngsters that the warband should ride to meet them. As they closed on the scouts, whose faces were swathed, Carnelian could tell by the cast of their shoulders that they were not bringing good news.
Galewing pointed over his shoulder. They're there,' he said, trying to sound calm. They march across the Plain. We can be fairly certain they didn't see us.'
'Let's attack them now,' Ravan declared, causing everyone to look at him.
Crowrane fixed him with baleful eyes. 'You don't know what you're talking about. If we come at them across the open plain they'll have all the time they need to receive our charge. For any chance at victory, we need surprise.'
'This is madness,' cried Kyte. Carnelian could see the way his gaze shifted here and there among the warband as if he were already counting casualties.
'I have to agree with Father Kyte,' said Galewing. 'We don't have the numbers nor the training. We have nothing. We must forget this and return to our people while we still can.'
Ravan rode forward, regarding the Elders with a contemptuous gaze. 'All my life you've claimed to be soldiers, but now I can see you never did anything more than catch thieves in the marketplace or stand guard upon a gate.'
The voices of the Elders rose in protest but Ravan's young voice could still be heard above them. 'We're no less brave, nor less skilled with weapons than the Bluedancing and don't you remember this morning, Father Crowrane, when you declared their raid the work of a few hotheads? If they could do it, so can we.'
'Ravan's right,' a man cried. 'I say we get the bastards. They took my son. How could I face my wife if I don't bring him back?'
Many agreed.
'Could any of us live with the shame of returning without even having tried?' someone said.
'Is this how you all feel?' cried Galewing and was answered by a swell of affirmation. As the hubbub died away, the Elders looked at each other grimly.
'If we go in, it must be at night,' said Crowrane. To hide how few we are.'
'How will I find my son in the darkness?'
'We can't hope to find him or any of the captives whether we attack by day or by night. We snatch some of their children and then make a trade,' said Crowrane.
There was a lot of nodding. Carnelian felt a wash of relief that at least they had postponed the terrible moment.
For the rest of that day they rode parallel to the march of the Bluedancing. With each step their aquar took, Carnelian saw their spirits fail a little more. Despair was growing in his stomach. Their proud demeanour had faded. Bedraggled, their warpaint now made them look like the jugglers Carnelian had seen in the marketplace before the gates of Osrakum.
When next they stopped Carnelian approached Fern. This delay has turned into a fatal error.'
His friend turned bloodshot eyes on him, grimaced, but said nothing.
Crowrane looked resolute, but his son betrayed him with every doubtful glance he gave him.
The rain continued to lash them. Carnelian felt more than saw the approach of night. As it closed about them it seemed to be their dread. He saw the queasy looks everyone was trying to hide. He yearned then for Osidian's certainty as he tried to dismiss the fear that he and many others might well not live to see another morning.
Carnelian was thankful of the darkness that hid his fear. The night was filled with furtive whispering. The old were remembering their hunts, the good, long years of their lives: the young their sweethearts, their mothers, their dreams for the future. When a voice spoke, it seemed very loud. Carnelian felt everyone turning to listen with desperate hope.
'We'd better go now… while we still dare.' It was Fern.
This is a mistake,' said Galewing. 'We go,' rumbled Crowrane.
'Perhaps we should listen to Father Galewing,' said Ravan.
'We must go or return to the Tribe as cowards,' said Fern.
Affecting strength, voices added their agreement and the Elders tried as best they could to marshal the war-band. They rode out under a black sky dead of moon or stars. Carnelian let his aquar follow the others as they crept towards where they thought the camp of the Bluedancing lay. Stone spearheads clinked against each other. Leather sighed against aquar hide. The tiny sparks of their enemy's fires came alive in the night and drew them on. Moths to a flame, thought Carnelian.