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In the Rule of Heda Lexa. Year 1.  10^th Moon.   Waxing Gibbous Moon. Polis Tower 

Becca Pramheda. “The more you change Lexa , the less your knowledge of what happened in the past will help you.”

Gustus grunts as he follows the new Heda down yet another of the Tower’s staircases. He stopped counting at fifty floors and his knees had started to hurt on the fortieth. The young Heda has boundless energy, whatever the state of her ribs and runs as fast as a jokking (fucking) pronghorn, he needs to talk to Indra about bodyguards who are good runners. Thankfully Lexa slows as they descend to the public floors and by the time she emerges through the heavy metal door on floor FIVE, his breathing has calmed a little and he can hope that Tower Guard Solon doesn’t notice his red face and laboured breathing as they pass him.

Lexa walks into the main dining room dressed in shabby leggings, a tunic that is too large for her slight frame and boots that are worn through at the toes. Her demeanour is that of the natblida novitiate she once was, but as soon as her presence is spotted and announced by the Head Server Bilton, all the gonas, Guards and staff of the Tower who are seated at the long refectory tables eating their breakfasts scramble to their feet and bow deeply, they only resume their meals when she is seated.

Costia is at her side in a moment setting down a tray filled with her favourite breakfast. She exchanges a brief smile with her past lover.  Her heart beats hard; it’s Costia, she’s alive and they are friends, not yet lovers. Never to be lovers in these New Times (NT)! A coldness drops into her chest as the memory of her last sight of Costia’s face returns; eyeless and lips drawn back in an endless scream. She stops and stares at her bowl for a moment, feeling her breath halt and stomach clench. Then Costia speaks.

“I have tasted it Heda, it is not poisoned.”

Slowly her spoon dips into the honeyed porridge and she takes a taste, almost groaning in delight as the sweet Trikru honey  coats her tongue.   “Mochof, Costia.”  It is good to see Costia and to know that she will not suffer torture and death at Nia’s hands, because in the NT their love cannot flourish. Clarke has Lexa’s heart and Costia must live.  

After breakfast Lexa takes the elevator, much to Gustus’ relief, to floor THIRTY where the Throne Room is located, along with meeting rooms that are used to conduct most of Heda’s daily business. Gustus tells her that as she ordered Titus, Indra and Anya are waiting for her in the Red Room, the smallest of these rooms. She intends to start her life as Heda in the NT by making some important changes; first is to limit Titus’ influence on her gonas, her people and her. In the Old Times (OT) she had been too strongly influenced by her respect for him as her old seda (teacher). His great knowledge of the krus and their traditions had been useful as she created the Kongeda but he could not see the need to; bring change, expand trade and allow tek, into their lives. Then there was his training of the natblidas and conduct of the conclave, where he rigidly stuck to what was taught to him by his own seda Selwyn.  Lexa had become exhausted as she pushed and persuaded him, time and again, to move beyond his immediate reaction of ‘but that has never been our way Heda’ or some variation on that phrase, whenever she wanted to try something new.  His loyalty to the Fleim she believes to be absolute, but his loyalty to Heda Lexa, or any Heda is nowhere near as strong.

The best time to start this new approach is now, as changes in important positions like Advisors, Wormanas  (Generals / War Leaders) and personal staff are to be expected when a new Heda ascends.  

Gustus opens the elaborately carved wooden door and she strides into a room she knows well. During her reign as Heda she spent so much time here it almost feels like home.  Anya, Indra and Titus all stand and bow as Lexa walks to the head of the table and sits on the throne-like chair reserved for Heda. She gestures for them to sit. They do, waiting in silence for their Heda to speak. 

“Anya, has Indra informed you of my plans to form a Kongeda?”  Both planas (women) nod.

“Sha (Yes) Heda.”

“There are some who will oppose even the idea of peace between the krus; I will doubtless  face battles, assassins and every kind of resistance.  I need a Wormana (General) and Advisor who has the respect of oso gonas (our warriors), can gather information from scouts, spies and informers and also keep me safe. Will you do this ai Fos (my First)?”

Anya’s face does not betray her feelings, but she is overjoyed that her Seken (Second) has not only survived the conclave but already acts with the maturity and intent Anya always knew she was capable of. “Sha Heda. I would be proud.” 

“Mochof (Thank-you), Anya.” 

Titus waits quietly for young Lexa to ask him for advice on how to proceed with negotiating her Kongeda into existence.

“Titus, have you arranged private meetings for me with each of the Chiefs?”

“Sha Heda. All have agreed to meet with you. The first is, as you requested, with Fenrir kom Trishanakru, in two days’ time. That will allow us to prepare our strategy.”

“Radon (good) you will pass the details on to Wormana Anya who will finalise and attend the meetings with me.” The three planas watch Titus as he pales and swallows. Lexa raises her chin, a clear signal that he is expected acknowledge and obey her order.

“Sha Heda. Bu..” He doesn’t get the chance to continue his response as Lexa interrupts. 

“Fleimkepa, how many natblida (blackblood) novitiates are currently under your guidance?”

This is not the question or topic Titus expected and he looks a little flustered as he replies. “We have two Heda, Aden and Luce. Aged 3 and 2 summers.”

“What are you doing about such a lack of novitiates?”

“Erm, two young Fleimkepa sekens are leading a party on ‘search’, they were last in Louwoda Kilron Heda?”

Lexa’s eyes bore into the Fleimkepa. “Come back to me when the moon is waning, with your plans for how you will find more novitiates and there is another important task I would have you address.” Titus nods even though he’s mystified as to why Heda is directing him to the thorny issue of natblidas, he didn’t think she would concern herself with such things. Hedas fought wars and negotiated trade routes, they didn’t bother themselves much with the goufas (children) who would succeed them, that was his job. Heda is still speaking and he snaps his attention back to her.

“… and when I bring peace to the krus I want Polis to become a place where future leaders and skilled crafters come to be trained. The schooling you give our natblidas is excellent but is mostly wasted as all but one novitiate dies in the conclave. I want skills like healing, smithing and the ability to read and write gonasleng to be more widely taught. By the next new moon, I want to hear your plans for starting to make schooling a part of everyday life in Polis. You may go now Titus, you have much to do.”

Titus stares at the young Heda, his mouth opens to reply that such was ‘not their way’ but her attention is now fixed on Indra and unless he is to disobey her instruction, which is unthinkable, he must leave. He stands, bows and makes his way out. He has, as Heda Lexa says, much to do.

Lexa breathes a little easier after Gustus has closed the door on the Fleimkepa. “Chief Indra, to destroy the Maunon (Mountain Men) will take many summers of work and planning. I come to you for help with that great task as you and your kru have lost so many to their Acid Fogs and Ripas.  Will you work with me as my most senior Wormana, to prepare for the Battle of the Maunde, a battle that may not be fought for ten summers but that I intend us to win?”

The three of them spend the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon in that room, talking, arguing and planning. The two older planas surprised and then awed by the young Heda’s maturity, knowledge and vison. The young gada (girl) who they had seen as having great potential, seems overnight to have become a great Heda.  

Two days later

The first of today’s many meetings is with Fenrir kom Trishanakru. Lexa’s very aware that in the OT this meeting had gone very badly. Fenrir had been obsessed with avenging the death of his nontu (father) Loki and Lexa, newly ascended and still naïve in some ways, was determined that she was not going to allow her gonas to be used for his personal vengeance. He had become incensed when she calmly set out the reasons for her position. In his anger and pain, he had lunged at her, called her cowardly and weak and Titus ignoring her instructions to ‘hod op’ had called Guards into the Throne Room and they had non-too gently dragged him out. This time can she get a better result? It would be useful if she could, because that meeting was the start of Fenrir’s personal animosity towards her and it had taken six years for Trishankru to enter the Kongeda. Only after the taxes Lexa had imposed on all non-Kongeda trade had crippled his people, who rely so heavily on imported food, did Fenrir agree very reluctantly to join. Even then, out of spite, he and his Bandrona (Ambassador)  frequently sided with those who opposed her, including most memorably in the ‘Heda nou mou’ challenge, with his sworn enemy Nia kom Azgeda.

Over the last days Anya and Lexa have spent marks together talking about; these meetings, the Tower and its’ security, her bodyguards and of course the Kongeda generally. Painstakingly they have rehearsed  each of the meetings with the kru Chiefs including the preparation of lists that set out the many and varied benefits to each kru of joining the Kongeda. To Anya’s surprise Lexa doesn’t want to emphasise ‘defeating the Maunon’ as the most important reason for the Kongeda’s existence.  

“To fight together against such a foe is what they will understand best Lexa.”

“Sha Anya, but when the Maunon are no more what will hold us together?  If the Kongeda is seen to have only one goal it cannot last. We must look towards peace with our skills and trade as what will hold us together in the future. Now let’s move on and think about where to hold these meetings and who should attend.”  

Chief Fenrir is still a young man, under twenty summers of age, a little impulsive and both Anya and Lexa agree not a good wormana. Managing him will be difficult and Lexa decides to avoid the formal grandeur of the Throne Room and she asks him to bring with him a senior advisor or advisors. Over her ten years serving as Heda in the OT, Lexa learned many tricks and tactics; one being that the presence of a respected witness from their own kru could have a calming influence on a leader. After formal bows Lexa asks Anya, the Trishanakru Chief and his First Minister Alef to sit with her at the great polished red-yew table that gives the meeting room its’ name. Introductions are made and fulsome condolences for the death of Fenrir’s uncle Odin and nontu Loki are expressed.  Lexa opens discussions with her recollection of the battle at Toron and she has questions about the death of her predecessor Heda Odin, who was Fenrir’s uncle.

Fenrir describes what happened. He and Odin were just behind the front lines, both were mounted on their great warhorses and shouting encouragement to their gonas to hold their line against the surging Azgedans. The white flyted arrow made no sound before it struck his uncle in the eye with a sickening squelch. Odin had fallen from his horse, the white stallion named Majesty, and the distraught young chief had tried to comfort his Heda as Keryon took him within moments of his receiving the injury.  All five of them had been present at that battle and so there can be no hiding the fact that Odin’s army was already in trouble. As they ponder that reality Lexa brings the talk around to Loki’s death by poison, bemoaning the lack of evidence linking Nia to any assassin. Fenrir must admit to this lack and that it was Odin’s anger at the death of his bro than led to the war in Azgeda. Finally, Lexa makes it clear that she cannot continue that war because she has no reason or evidence to justify it. There follows much posturing and loud talk from the young Chief as Lexa allows him to “Speak freely” and he says some angry words but controls himself enough to avoid insulting Heda directly. The outcome of their talks is that he will consider joining the Kongeda but only upon terms that favour Trishanakru (of course!). Lexa demurs but leaves open the possibility of future negotiations. Fenrir leaves on respectful, if not over friendly, terms. Lexa thinks the meeting a modest success.

The last meeting of that long day is with Nia kom Azgeda. In the OT nothing remarkable had been said in that careful ‘fencing’ match. Lexa, although she had heard a great deal about the Azkwin from many sources including; Mona, Indra, Anya and Titus, had never spoken with the Kwin and with Titus hovering anxiously in the background she had decided not to respond to her many provocations. Now she has ten-years’ experience of Nia and of how a polite word or conciliatory action will be taken as weakness and become something that the Kwin and her kru will boast about.

 Earlier meetings with kru chiefs such as Fenrir and Windsong were held in the Red Room but Nia and her Advisors; Pallas, Odd and Frey kom Azgeda are escorted by Tower Guards into the Throne Room. There they find Heda Lexa; enthroned, the Helm of Awe on her forehead, red sash spilling over her shoulder and Anya kom Trikru, dressed in robes and a splendid fur cloak, standing at her right side.  The two planas project an aura of strength and power.

About half a mark earlier when Lexa entered the throne room, she found Anya practising walking in the robes and cloak. She swishes to a stop when Lexa enters. “What do you think Heda, do I look like an Advisor?”

Lexa grins “You’ll be lovely and warm as well as expensively dressed. Where did you get that cloak?”  

“Skaikrasha lent it to me, and young Gaia raided the Fleimkepas’ stores to find me some plain robes. It was Skaikrasha who said we both need to look splendid to put Nia in her place. The Az-bitch wears the most wonderful leathers and furs. You need to get some too. At least Skaisora’s managed to find you clothes that fit and washed your sash!” Anya does a twirl; she clearly likes the cloak. “You can hide half a dozen daggers inside here. I wonder if Skaikrasha will sell it to me?”

When the Azgedans stride into the Throne Room Pallas, Odd and Frey bow deeply, but Nia continues for a few steps more before coming to a stop and briefly ducking her head in a shallow nod. Anya starts down the steps to remedy this disrespect, her intent clear. Then Nia does bow, but it’s clearly a grudging gesture and is not deep enough to be polite.

Lexa speaks. “Anya. Hod op!” and the Wormana stops a few cubits away from the Kwin. The throne creaks when Lexa stands and this together with her steps, loud in her new boots, are the only sounds to be heard as she slowly walks down the stair towards Nia, coming to a halt immediately in-front of the smirking plana, who slowly straightens up.

Lexa’s voice can be heard by all in the room, its’ tone gentle but firm. “Nia kom Azgeda you seem unwilling to show courtesy to me as Heda and vessel of the Fleim. This vessel is young.” Lexa indicates herself,  “but the Fleim is old and we will not tolerate disrespect.”  Her gloved fist snakes out to strike the surprised Kwin hard, just beneath her ribs. Winded, Nia doubles over. “Do not make that mistake again Nia.” Lexa turns and returns to sit on her throne, Anya stays close to the Kwin, in case she attempts to strike at Heda Lexa with a hidden, likely poisoned, dagger. “Now, we will talk of peace.”  The three Azgedan advisors look braced for a fight, weaponless though they are, but their kwin straightens up after a few pained breaths and they do ‘talk of peace’.

It’s a rough start to talks about a Kongeda but Nia challenged and Lexa responded with a show of strength, the only language Nia understands and it’s not as if Nia would ever willingly bring Azgeda into the Kongeda anyway. Her mind is already set on war and assassination.  At heart Lexa knows that Nia must die for any real benefit to come to Azgeda and so her detailed explanations of the possible advantages to the people of Azgeda of joining the Kongeda are more for the ears of Nia’s three advisors.  As anticipated (and as in the OT) Nia effectively blocks all meaningful discussion by responding to Lexa’s words with a cursory.  “Heda, I am Azgeda and if I think your Kongeda is of no benefit to me, Azgeda will not join.” She stands tall and straight before the throne. “You will not fool me with your promise to treat all krus equally. With a Trikru Heda Azgeda cannot flourish, your words are empty Heda kom Jus (Commander of the Blood). Azgeda will watch as you try to form your Kongeda and doubtless we will see Trikru rise at the expense of other krus. It has always been thus, Hedas favour the krus of their own jus.”

In the OT Lexa had not risen to this bait but today she decides to disclose a secret, again more to the Azgedan advisors than Nia. “If that is the case Nia you can have no concerns. I would favour Azgeda as much as I would Trikru. I believe you knew my nontu Bliden (Red) kom Azgeda well.”

Silence, except for a low choked gasp from one of the three Azgedan advisors, Lexa can’t tell which.

“Bliden died at the hands of that treacherous Trikru bitch without fathering a goufa.”

“Ai nontu and ai nomon died at the hands of your gonas when they destroyed the winter village of Scotii.”

“Lies” the Kwin hisses.

“I was there and saw them die!” Lexa’s voice is soft but her eyes are hard.

“You are too young. Bliden was killed ten summers ago, no-one survived!”

 “I was young. Ai nomon hid me in the trees.”

As Heda Lexa calmly leans back against the antlers and spears of her throne, Nia stares at her. Could she be Bliden’s goufa? The oval face and dark braided hair are the very image of the Trikru bitch that bewitched Bliden but there’s nothing of him in those features. Nothing! Nothing but the green eyes, broad brow, straight nose and full lips? No! She will not believe these lies.

“Azgeda could find a friend in me Nia. Your people’s hunger could be fed by the crops of Yujleda, the nuts and fruits of Trikru and the buffalo meat of Ingranronakru. The ice that locks away your land could be used to preserve foods to feed us all. Peace could bring much wealth to your kru’s hunters, traders and crafters.”  

The Kwin’s not listening, she’s still staring at the gada on the throne, lost in her memories and anger. After a few moments Pallas gently touches her arm and she wrenches herself back to the present. “I will not believe this story or join in your foolish quest for peace Heda. Our ways have always been of war!” These are the Kwin’s final words, spoken as she turns and stalks out of the room. Pallas and the others bow deeply and follow. Lexa’s raised hand stops Anya pursuing. 

“Let her go, she’ll never willingly join the Kongeda. She needs Azgeda to be at war to hide the fact that her standing army and many extravagances are what impoverish Azgeda. We must prepare for the meetings tomorrow with Yujleda, Ouskejon and Louwoda Kilron. With them we have some chance of peace. As for Azgeda, as long as Nia is on the throne there will be war in some form. ”

*****

That night she dreams of fire, smoke and death; of scarred white faces, bolting horses, spilt red blood and agonised screams. The fear she feels is so intense it shakes her entire body and she awakens in a cold sweat, with tears pouring down her face. “Nomi! (mummy) Noni! (daddy)” Jok Nia for always baiting her. Should she have revealed her Azgedan blood? Anya isn’t convinced it was a good move. Her advice is for Lexa to remain aloof to the Kwin’s games and let Anya move against the insolent plana if she insults her again.  Lexa had disagreed. “Let the rumours of my jus flourish Anya. Nia despite what she says is not Azgeda, she has control over that kru no doubt, but there will be those who look to unseat her.”

*****

Over the coming days she meets with the remaining kru chiefs and for them the changes she makes as to how she conducts herself and the topics of discussion are more subtle. Her gains likewise are small but she will take these gains and work with them as she starts to build her Kongeda.

In the Rule of Heda Lexa. Year 1.  10^th Moon.  Waning Gibbous Moon. Polis Tower 

This early in the morning only a few of the cooks’ sekens are to be found in the kitchens doing ‘start of the day’  tasks that get the big ovens warmed up and ready for the first breads and breakfasts.  Costia’s supervising one of the yongons as he riddles the grates, “Not too hard with the rake or you’ll lose all the hot coals. Be gentle so you riddle out the dead and keep the bliden.” She’s also stirring a pot of porridge and keeping an eye on Melba who is carrying the last of the dozen or so big bowls of dough to the main table, ready for final kneading and shaping. She turns at the sound of the door to the yard opening and smiles to see Lexa and Anya. The pair of them are splattered with mud and panting hard but their faces are split with huge grins and the two most important people in the Tower are shoving at each other like a couple of goufas, each trying to get through the door first.

“First in, first choice! Oof.” Heda is unceremoniously tripped by her Advisor but she’s not going down alone and as she falls she grabs the back of Anya’s knee and pulls her over.

“Jok!”

“Heda! Wormana!” Costia’s voice rings out and the two look up from their wrestling to see the assistant cook looking down at them, a very solid-looking beech-wood spurtle in hand.

“Hei Costia. I won so I get first choice of breakfast rolls.” It’s Anya grinning cheekily at the young gada as she uses her weight to keep Lexa down.

“Is that true Heda?”

Lexa lets the back of her head rest on the stone floor. “She did win the race but I got through the door first!”

They both wolf down porridge with warm rolls slathered in butter and honey. Re-energised by the food they are soon running up the Tower to prepare for their first meeting of the day. It’s a race, it’s always a race between the two of them, so that’s why it’s Anya who has to react first to the slicing daggers of the assassin waiting for them on the landing at floor FORTY-FIVE. Lighting fast she dives to take the attacker out at the knees. She knows that Lexa is immediately behind her but even with that knowledge she has to count herself lucky that her Heda’s reactions are as speedy as hers and the assassin’s knives, which almost pierce the skin of her back, are wrenched and twisted away by a snarling Lexa who breaks both of the assassin’s wrists as she uses her whole bodyweight to slam the putative killer into the stone steps. The poisoned blades spin away and there’s the sharp sound of bone hitting stone.  Pulling themselves upright the two Trikru look down at the unconscious figure.

“Good work! I need to speed up the new arrangements for bodyguards and jok it, Skaisora had warned me that the staircases were not yet fully secure.”   Anya sighs deeply as she pulls a leather thong from her hair and with harsh efficiency ties the arms of the attacker behind his back. Jok that his wrists are twisted, he’s going to die soon anyway! Tower Guards are summoned and they take him away to the dungeons, Lexa suspects that torture will make him speak, but that he will know little of value. In the OT the first assassination attempt was within three days of her Ascension but that killer was not this man. He was just a kru-less gona, a hired blade sent, she had always suspected by either Fenrir or Nia. Gustus had almost cut that man in two, at least this time they will have a chance to discover what, if anything, this assassin knows of who sent him.  

In the Rule of Heda Lexa. Year 1.  11^th Moon.   Waxing Crescent Moon. Polis Tower – Red Room

Seated around the great yew table Lexa, Anya and Indra pour over maps. The two Wormanas share Lexa’s love of maps and they are to start this long campaign by improving their knowledge of the territory surrounding the Maunde (Mt Weather). Anya and Lexa have obtained from the Chiefs of Podakru, Delphikru and Ouskejon permission for Trikru Scouts, under escort, to map every feature within 10 leagues of the Maunde’s base.   Azgeda of course refuse to co-operate.  

Indra smirks “Let them refuse Heda. I already have excellent maps of that territory.  It borders Trikru and my Scouts know it well. For you to ask and for Nia to refuse will make her feel strong and she’ll believe that we do not know her land. I know every jokking blade of grass within that sector of Azgeda and it’s better for us if she thinks I don’t have that knowledge.” The Trikru Chief gives one of her rare grins and Lexa chastises her former self for not using this plana’s wisdom and experience to best effect in the OT. Indra’s fierce loyalty is only one of the Chief’s many virtues. In the NT Lexa will appreciate her more and Gustus too, his loyalty she now realises is rooted in the deep affection both he and Petrus have for her. He cannot be her bodyguard in the NT as Clarke and the coming Skaikru (Sky People) will likely be seen by him as a threat to his Heda and he may try to destroy their alliance as he did before. She will not have him die by 1000 cuts again. Instead, he and maybe Petrus too, must become part of Indra’s team against the Maunon (Mountain men), but whereas Indra will be charting the lands immediately surrounding the Maunde,  Gustus and Petrus she will send underground.    

“Ai Wormanas these maps are only the start of this long war against the Maunde. We all know that since the time of Sheid Heda (Dark Heda) the Maunon can somehow see what we do near the Maunde. That is why, they can threaten us with bigas boomas (missiles) if we start to use fayoguns (firearms) and your Scouts mustl be disguised as hunters as they map the land.”

Lexa’s finger traces the 40 leagues between Ton DC and the Maunde.   “I want you to find  the many tunnels beneath Ton DC. The bombs destroyed much of the great city that once was there but buried deep below were tunnels where horseless carts ran on steel rails. Those tunnels could get an army close to the Maunde and the Maunon would not know they were there. Petrus uses steel rails, that have been scavenged by Mello and his bros, when he makes blades, perhaps he and Gustus would work with Mello and some others to explore those tunnels to see if we can use them to move against the Maunon.”

Chapter Text

In the Rule of Heda Lexa. Year 3.  4^th Moon.  First Quarter.  Polis Tower

Lexa takes a swallow from her beaker of lukewarm tea and tries to ignore the itch that has found a home between her shoulder blades. It’s ‘just a scratch’ from an intense training session with Anya the day before yesterday but as the shallow wound’s scab works its’ way free of her skin it’s driving her to distraction. She moves, a slight turn of her right side but it’s enough to get one of the spears in the back of her throne to rub against the spot. Ah, the relief and no-one noticed as everyone but Lexa was at that moment focused on the sheets of vellum.

It's been a long day of the kind of work that Lexa likes the least, talking and yet more talking. Bo….ring, but also fruitful because at last Windsong has agreed terms for Ingranronakru to join the Kongeda and she will present the deal to her Buffalo Council when her kru comes together for their Spring Gathering, next full moon.  Windsong will then return to Polis to take the Kongeda’s ‘brand’. It’s a great step forward, making the Kongeda five krus strong and for Lexa it is at last proof that her actions in the New Times (NT) are having some effect. In the Old Times (OT) Ingranronakru didn’t join for another two summers.  

The NT are still fraught with danger, including raids by Azgeda on Trikru and Ouskejonkru and there have been eight serious assassination attempts on the young Heda. In addition, there is still much obstinacy and resistance to change from some kru chiefs. But today has been a day of progress and the two leaders, together with Anya and Windsong’s eldest goufa (child) Sweet-grass, are to celebrate by spending the evening in Polis’ sweat lodge. Ingranronakru brought their love of smoky lodges and herbal pipes to Polis summers ago and many in the city have taken to the practice.   

Four of Heda’s bodyguards, known as ‘The Handmaids’, check the lodge and now stand watch outside as Lexa and Anya enter the partially buried hide tent. A welcoming warmth and scents of tobacco and herbs envelope them as they push through the double flaps. Windsong and Sweet-grass arrive in a few moments and soon all are naked, the ultimate proof of the ‘no weapons in sweat lodge’ rule. Aromatic smoke swirls around the dimly lit interior and as the pipes are passed to and fro Lexa watches as her own and her companions’ skins darken with the heat, and she feels warm rivulets of sweat trickle over her forehead and down her sides.  They don’t talk much; they don’t need to. To sit in companionable silence as they smoke and relax in the lodge is not only a form of pleasure, but also a demonstration of mutual trust. Something that in the OT Titus never agreed with whenever it was suggested and one of Lexa’s regrets is that she allowed her old seda (teacher) to influence her on this matter.

“That they leave their knives and blades outside does not mean we will be safe” the overwrought Fleimkepa had exclaimed. “Ingranronakru are renowned for their skills in unarmed combat. I could not in all conscience agree to this Heda. It is not our way to make ‘gestures of trust’. To agree will only make you look weak!”  

As she looks across the glowing stones to her companions Lexa is the recipient of a dazzling smile from the Ingranronakru chief and feels her answering grin lift her cheeks and spirits. Things are better this time around.

It’s late when the two Trikru leave the lodge and their amenable companions to return to the Tower. Handmaids accompany them as they walk through Polis’ dark streets. Lexa can tell that tonight she smoked a stronger mix of herbs than she has in the past because her spirit wants to fly from her body and rise into the twinkling skies. She would soar above her sleeping city, sweeping across the world on great wings; keeping watch over her people, making sure they were safe from the perils of the night. Then her duty done she could perhaps fly into the highest heavens to find the Skaikru’s ‘Ark’, where her love Clarke is living with her people. Yes, she huffs quietly to herself, that last pipe was strong. Looking over to Anya Lexa can tell that she is similarly alight with excitement, her walk is almost a bounce! It would be great to run a race now, but it’s not the time because although today brought another kru into the Kongeda, elsewhere battle looms and very early tomorrow Anya will set off north to meet with Indra and Chief Leto kom Podakru as they prepare for the coming battle with Boudalan. Lexa will follow in a few days, after Windsong and Sweet-grass have left Polis.  

Back in her rooms Lexa feels the ‘buzz’ from smoking the pipes recede, leaving her loose-limbed and relaxed. She lights a few more candles, enjoying the warm glow and the aroma of roses and lavender.  Unlacing her boots takes a while, this late at night she will not trouble her Handmaids (the bodyguards are also her personal servants) and soon she is unbuckling the wide leather belt at her waist. Jok (Fuck)! Her nail catches on a frayed stitch. Lexa picks at the loose strands trying to get rid of them without making it worse. That attempt fails when more stitches give. Jok and double jok! The belt releases and she examines it closely. Something must be done, she will ask Skaisora for the loan of a needle and thread.

Pulling back the furs on her bed releases more herbal scents, the furs have been aired today. Hmm. Settling into the soft sheepskins is comforting, her thoughts tumble and drift, back to the OT.  Then, Costia had repaired this belt for her. (Stitching has never been one of Lexa’s skills) and when she’d returned it, neatly repaired, the two youngons had taken the opportunity to exchange their first kiss. Lying in the bed she once shared with Costia Lexa remembers that sweet moment. Gustus had shown Costia into Lexa’s room and as he trusted the young plana (woman) had left them alone. Costia stood there, smiling and holding out the belt. Lexa crossed the room, she’d just been lighting a candle and looked, really looked, at her beautiful friend and saw in Costia’s dark eyes a softening, an affection that had given Lexa enough hope and courage for her to lean forward and gently press her lips to Costia’s. That kiss was everything a first kiss should be. The scent of rising bread and lavender that was Costia, the softness of lips, so soft that Lexa almost couldn’t believe she was kissing her. It had to be a dream. No-one’s lips could be that soft in real life and then …. Oh, would Lexa survive this wonderful experience? Her heart was beating so fast and then it stopped. She’s sure it stopped. Everything stopped, when she kissed Costia and Costia kissed her back.

Here in this bed, very much alone, Lexa smiles at the memory of that kiss; because now she can allow herself to remember those good times. When Costia was killed by Nia (in the OT) the overwhelming horror of her torture and death tainted these happy memories and Lexa had shut them away. Love, after all, was weakness. But today Costia is very much alive and Skaikrasha had told her only a few days ago, how happy the young plana is back in her own village of Virginie. So, Lexa is free to remember the kisses, comfort and love that Costia brought to her in the OT. She smiles as the pipes and memories lull her to sleep.  

In the Rule of Heda Lexa. Year 3.  4th Moon.  Third Quarter. Podakru – The Waters of Cleve  

Why Lexa’s first battle as Heda is against the gonas of Boudalan is still a mystery, even as she prepares to fight it for the second time around. In the OT she had seen this battle as a necessary response to a chief who had wanted to test her ‘metal’ as Heda. In these NT she sees the ‘fell-hand’ of Nia kom Azgeda behind it, but how has the Azkwin manipulated Boudalan into starting a war? That the Boudalan Chief Kenton is an expert miner but a greedy branwada (fool) when it comes to war and politics must be a factor, but it can’t just be that? Nothing from her spies or Scouts has proved Nia’s involvement, it is infuriating. 

Boudalan live and work in their huge cave systems, most of their food they get through trade. Ingranronakru, Delphikru, Azgeda and sometimes Trikru caravans from the south and west exchange foodstuffs and crafted goods for Boudalan’s copper, tin, coal and iron. Trade is vital to this kru, so why has Kenton decided to go to war against Podakru a member of the Kongeda

Podakru joined the Kongeda as a founding member with Trikru in the first summer of Lexa’s rule as Heda. Their Bandrona (Ambassador) Fly, a tiny wrinkled old man who always smells of fish, is an able politician and has the trust of his Chief Leto. As long-time allies of Trikru and enemies of Azgeda, Podakru joining the Kongeda was always likely. Delphikru too were in from the beginning, making Heda Lexa’s original Kongeda a trio of krus that value the ability to move and trade freely without tolls or taxes and who have suffered greatly at the hands of the Maunon. Louwoda Kilron Kru (Shallow Valley) became part of the Kongeda last summer and although small in numbers their skills with cloth and twines are valuable. It’s Podakru, the Great Lakes based kru, that Kenton has chosen to attack. He claims that they, at Heda Lexa’s bidding, are poisoning the underground rivers that supply Boudalan’s caves with fresh water. Kenton says that it is all a plot to force him to join the Kongeda when that is not in Boudalan’s interest.  

Lexa knows that she has not asked Podakru to poison anyone’s water and Chief Leto kom Podakru’s denials have been loud and clear. To be certain Anya sent a party of Scouts to investigate and they saw nothing amiss and neither did Titus, who recently set off ‘on search’ for natblidas and was in the southern regions of Podakru at the relevant time. Kenton’s allegations are false, an excuse to attack the wealthy south Podakru village of Cleve. Is this just to test Lexa and her Kongeda? If so why are Boudalan taking the lead and effectively doing Nia’s dirty work? That Nia is involved Lexa is sure but in the OT the battle of the Waters of Cleve was such a resounding and complete victory for the young Heda that only a few hundred Boudalan gonas survived. Chief Kenton and his wormanas (generals) could not be questioned as they were either killed in the battle or killed themselves in its’ aftermath. She never found out the truth.  

After such a sound beating Boudalan had joined the Kongeda within a few moons, as soon as a new young chief called Offa had won his way to the Stone Throne. He claimed not to know why his predecessor started the war.  In the NT Lexa still needs to win a great victory at Cleve (to build her reputation as a successful leader in battle) but it is even more important than ever to know the real reasons behind Kenton’s attack. She’s sent Anya and her Captain Quint ahead of her army to join with the Podakru forces and find out those reasons before battle is joined. The best source of such information will be Kenton himself; Anya’s mission is to spy on the warring Chief.

*****

The big Podakru war canoe glides silently through the dusk’s misty gloaming, skilled hands on the paddles keep them to the safest route as they navigate past the sandbanks that rise from the bed of the slow-flowing river.  Anya sits in the bow next to Fly, who uses his paddle to push them clear of floating logs and the bloated corpses of drowned animals. They swing around a big oxbow and ahead of them is the gently sloping eastern bank where the Boudalans’ campfires create a regular pattern of gold and red points against the grey. Keeping close to the western bank they slip past the bustling camp undetected. Cooking smells of fish and venison float on the easterly breeze and Anya’s stomach rumbles loudly in response. Fly turns to grin at her, gapped teeth showing white against his dark skin. She grimaces and grips her stomach to quieten it.  As darkness falls, they lift the canoe up the beach, conceal it behind low rocks and start to make their way the enemy’s camp, guided only by the faint glow of the fallen sun, a few stars and the Boudalan’s own fires.

Anya rolls beneath the huge tent’s guy-lines knowing that Quint is keeping watch and that a tap on her foot, or the hoots of a Great Horned Owl, mean that she must lie quiet and still until the danger has passed or Quint has ‘disposed’ of it. Her nose wrinkles, Boudalan war tents are not clean places. She’s sure she’s rolled up against a vent in the canvas that’s just been peed out of. Yuk. She crawls further along and hopes she’s moved away from the regular latrine spot. Jok it.

At least it's the right tent, she can make-out Kenton’s voice as he holds court and feasts with his wormanas. He’s telling overblown stories of past battles; the ‘Bigas’ (Great) triumphs of Boudalan against Podakru and then he starts boring on about an old dispute with Delphikru. His audience confine themselves to supporting his boasts with their cheers, a smattering of applause and heavy table thumping. The tedious skrish (shit) splutters on for over a mark before at last talk in the tent turns to the current situation. Others contribute but it is Kenton’s voice that still dominates.

“Our strik (little) Heda must be brought to heel. Changing how we live will damage the most important krus. We who need war and the trade in weapons to live must show her that her idea of peace is nonsense.”  Kenton is speaking now in a more muted and thoughtful tone. He coughs. “We Boudalan rely on wars to create a market in all krus for our metals. The great demand for our ores means we grow as a kru. Now we have thousands of gonas, as many well fed goufas and it is through war that we will gain the new lands we need for this growth. Peace is not for us and together with our friends in the north we will soon conquer the south. Yujleda, Louwoda Kilron; all their rich farmlands will be for the taking and their goufas can work the fields for those of us who will rule. We will all have lands and slaves. I’ll enjoy watching fat farmers working to feed me!”

“Your confidence in our gonas is well founded ai Chief but have we enough krus with us to take the whole of the south? Trikru will fight hard and what about the others and the Maunon?”

“Podakru will be nothing after this battle. Delphikru are naught but traders and the Trikru gonas will stand alone. With Azgeda and Sangedakru we will take them, while Trishanakru and Ingranronakru just watch from the side-lines, as they always do. Little Louwoda Kilron number too few to be worthy of notice. I’ll wager that they can have no more than a few hundred gonas and some of them will stay home to guard their little valley. Ouskejonkru will, when they see the Azkwin’s gonas fighting with us, at last acknowledge our rule and pay taxes for permission to breath, let alone mine for iron.”

Anya flattens herself to the ground and holds still as a tap to her boot alerts her to an approaching guard. Soon heavy steps and a noisy yawn are heard as a gona marches stiffly past. Anya waits. A loud grunt is the only warning she gets before the vent behind her is slapped open and a stream of piss arches onto the grass just behind her. She can feel some splash-back soiling her trousers and boots. Jok! The flow of urine eventually ceases, and the flap is released, dropping to a close. Two hoots.

Kenton has continued speaking throughout. “She may be Heda and have the Fleim, but she is just a gada, with only one real battle behind her and then she was on the losing side when Nia destroyed Heda Odin’s army. After the battle she can beg me for mercy, I may let her ………!” The likely insult is drowned out by several scandalised voices and exclamations about “Keryon and the Fleim.” Anya’s relieved that some respect for the Fleim exists within this witless group of branwadas. But Kenton is not silenced for long and the voices in the tent become a raucous chorus as Kenton drunkenly spouts abuse about Yujleda farmers, Delphikru moneychangers and Trikru loggers.

Anya’s orders are very clear, she must learn what she can and then get back to Heda, she braces herself to continue to listen and banishes from her mind all thoughts of a warm, cleansing bath.  

 In the Rule of Heda Lexa. Year 3.  4^th Moon.  Third Quarter. Polis  

The sun has barely edged above the quiet waters of Polis Bay when they leave through one of the city’s side gates, leading their horses at a quiet walk. The Guards have been forewarned so there’s no challenge, just murmured greetings and a nod as the wicket-gate swings open on well-greased hinges. A little way on, they mount up and the horses relax into their normal loping gait. The first day or so of travel will be the speediest, as in Trikru lands they have no need to hide. Heda and her Handmaids riding out to visit a village is a regular sight; the young leader is known to keep a close eye on her people and for visiting her krus once the winter snows have gone. It is when they are close to Azgeda and in the latter part of their journey, passing through the borderlands of Ouskejon and Boudalan, that they will slow down and become invisible; their passing merely the trace of ‘something’ that’s moved through the woodlands, crossed treacherous screes and climbed the highest mountain passes.

Their first night is spent in the abandoned village of Limner. For generations this had been a small yet vigorous settlement, its’ people growing trees and raising pigs. In recent years this changed to misery as it was raided so often by the Maunon’s (Mountain Men’s) Ripas (Reapers), that Indra had moved her people away to safer lands in the southeast. Limner’s pastures and orchards are overgrown now but Lexa can still see the village in her mind’s eye. To the west are the filled-in cess pits, easily identified through a luxuriant growth of nettles, chickweed and chicory. In the centre the houses and farm-buildings are now just rotted timbers and crumbling walls. Those built of brick or of stone still offer some shelter from the easterly wind and enough is still standing to allow them to build a small shelter that will let them cook their food without releasing enough light to attract ripas.

As they had ridden through Trikru’s northern territory their hunters for the day, Cassie and Hellen kom Trikru, had found easy pickings. Five ducks too interested in their mating dances to notice approaching predators are now roasting above glowing embers. The birds’ plucked skins brown and crisp in the heat and as drops of fat fall, fragrant smoke drifts into the night. As she approaches, Lexa is returning from the first shift on watch, the sweet smell of the food makes her mouth water. “Isla is cooking, isn’t she?”  Heda Lexa knows which of her Handmaids is the best cook and the careful preparation of the soras (birds) and liberal use of fragrant herbs means that tonight they are in for a treat. The Louwoda Kilron gona Isla may lack the weaving skills for which her kru is rightly famed but as a gona and a cook her talents are amongst the best Lexa has known.

“Sha.” The Handmaids use Lexa’s title as little as possible when they are in public, on the assumption that a hostile agent could be nearby waiting to identify which of the planas (women) in the group is the one they are to try to kill.

A group of planas that could act as bodyguards and personal servants was Anya’s idea and without Titus there to object to anything new Lexa was able to put the suggestion into effect and release Gustus to work with Indra and his houmon (spouse) on her plans to defeat the Maunon.  A group entirely dedicated to Heda’s safety and comfort, works well both for Lexa and the Handmaids. Lexa knows that those who care for her, whether it is by preparing a bath or fighting an assassin, are seasoned gonas well able to defend themselves and Lexa. The Handmaids share their duties and twelve are enough to allow time for training, rest and for each to have some life away from duty.  Some Handmaids will always be nearby, whether Heda Lexa is in Polis, visiting an ally or on campaign. The original twelve were all Trikru, picked by Anya from amongst the Trikru Scouts (all of whom had volunteered to be bodyguards for Heda) and she selected them with great care. Trikru Scouts are known for their abilities in tree craft, combat and spying. Spies come in many forms. There are those who can disappear into a landscape for moons to keep watch on a village, an army or the Maunon. Others travel through many krus’ territories in character as ‘traders’, ‘tinkers’ or ‘entertainers’.  Eris and Phoebe recite poems and plays, as well as sing songs of war, triumph and the heart. Eva and Cassie play flute and harp. Artis and Hellen were trained as tumblers, Jules is a talented healer and Barb can repair almost anything with moving parts (she reminds Lexa of the great Skaikru mechanic Raven Reyes).

Two of the original twelve Lira and Nessa, were killed last summer by assassins. That fight had been memorable and bloody. Lexa herself gained a new scar across her belly. She knew that replacing the two who had died defending her was going to be difficult. At the time Louwoda Kilron had just joined the Kongeda, this success was probably the reason behind that assassination attempt. The small kru’s Chief a careful hef (man) called Callum had been in Polis and saw how Heda and her Handmaids defeated the attackers. That evening he offered two of his own guards, Isla and Blair to join Heda’s. 

“We are a small kru Heda and we train our goufas to be weavers and crafters. I cannot send thousands of skilled gonas to fight for you, but we can supply your army with the best bow strings, of hemp or scavenged cords and I can give you the loyalty of our two greatest gonas; Isla and Blair.”

Anya and Lexa were taken aback by the Chief’s offer. How could these gonas’ loyalty be ‘gifted? In theory all gonas in the Kongeda owe loyalty to Heda but to be personal servants and bodyguards requires a higher degree of reliability, loyalty and skill than that expected from ordinary gonas. Lexa talked to her old friend Skaisora kom Louwoda Kilron (Bird) on the matter.

“Those two are known to be our very best gonas Heda and both are related to ai Chief, they are goufas of his sis Galla. For him to offer you their service means that he has their consent and agreement to do so. I think they seek experience and to prove themselves in battle. At home what is valued is skills with a spinning wheel or loom.”       

With Callum’s permission Anya tests both planas’ combat skills and then takes them to the Tower’s Red Room to meet with Heda. The two gonas kneel before Lexa, who steps forward and bids them stand, so she can observe them and take stock.

On their feet the two sis match Anya in height; Isla wears her hair cropped, while Blair’s long dark locks are kept tidy in braids. Both have an empty scabbard hanging at their waist, wear light chain mail vests, reinforced leather pants and good boots. They look about twenty summers old and are, according to Anya, capable gonas. That’s very high praise from her former fos. Lexa paced; hands clasped behind her back as she addressed them.

“When Wormana Anya and I need to choose gonas as my Handmaids we look first for planas who are; experienced in war, have lived full lives and if they have goufas they are fully grown.  We do that because to be my bodyguard is to invite death.” The two youngons had looked at her with a respectful but unflinching gaze. “For you Blair there must be an added danger because you look very like me. Are you sure you want to do this?” 

It was Blair who spoke for them both, Isla nodded for her sis to speak. “Heda, Wormana Anya. At home every day we train to fight and defend our kru but our skills bring us no real respect as neither of us can weave or spin well. Sha (Yes), we are young, and reputation is important to us, but we are not reckless seekers of glory or death. It would be a great honour to serve you Heda.”

The two gonas dropped to their knees, drawing their knives across their palms to show their willingness to swear a blood oath. Lexa had stood looking at their young faces and after a moment she too drew blood and had taken their oaths. She has not regretted that decision and Isla’s skills as a cook were an unexpected benefit that is enjoyed by all the Handmaids. Tonight, for example the hot meat may be wrapped in yesterday’s bread, but it still tastes divine, and Lexa isn’t the only one stifling a moan of delight. While they can it is best to eat well, soon their meals will be little more than dried trail rations. 

Four days later their camp for the night is very different. High up in the mountains it is bitterly cold, but they don’t make fire. With two armies on the march the risk of attracting anyone’s attention to their presence is high. That evening’s meal of cold water, dried meat and a fresh salad of young beech leaves, wild garlic and raw mushrooms is filling and tasty, thanks to Isla. No-one will fail to sleep because their belly is empty.

A fur wrapped around her shoulders Lexa sits and listens to noises that seem so much louder now that the moon has set, and the night sky is lit only by a few milky stars that peek out between banks of dark cloud. The nearby brook is almost raucous in its’ tumble downhill, gurgling and chinking as it passes through knots of grass and over pebbles. Owls, bats and young leaves catching the breeze, add to the soundscape and as Lexa pulls the fur tighter for warmth, she looks at the shadowy outlines of those of her companions that she can see. These days she never travels, in fact is scarcely ever, alone. Her Handmaids are always nearby. In Polis four of them walk ahead, clearing a way through the busy crowd, while others melt into that crowd. When Heda stops to speak with someone; a trader, gona or a young nomon with a goufa at her side, a Handmaid is there.   Today all twelve ride with her as she makes her way to Podakru and her ‘first’ great battle as Heda. Camped up for the night there are six of them hidden in the trees, the others lie close to their Heda as all of them ‘sleep’ in the open. Tomorrow night they will join the army and soon in the heat of battle their training as bodyguards will face the ultimate test.

Lexa turns her thoughts to the army that is waiting for her only leagues ahead. It is a mixture of four very different krus. The mighty Trikru, under the leadership of their Chief Indra, support ‘their’ Heda with everything they’ve got. In the ‘van’ will be five hundred Rangers, all of them experienced gonas who have been selected for their ability to physically intimidate and destroy the enemy. Every summer since Heda Lexa ascended these bigas (big) gonas meet in Polis to train as a fighting unit, learning new tactics and practicing with new weapons. As a group their loyalty to the young Heda is solid, she has trained alongside them these last three summers, knows each by name, learnt from and with them. As Tristan said, “If her nontu was of Azgeda you would never know it; she fights as well as her nomon and as Trikru!”  The Trikru Scouts are similarly loyal, they know Heda and Wormana Anya well from over a dozen skirmishes against raiders from Azgeda, Boudalan and Sangedakru. Rumours are circulating that that Indra, once she has had a few beakers of ale, boasts that thousands of Trikru gonas (not just the Scouts and Rangers) have seen their Heda fight and all would die to defend her!

Gonas of Delphikru, Podakru and a few hundred from Louwoda Kilron make up the rest of the army. They are not as familiar with their Heda and her abilities as the Trikru but over the last years each of these krus has sent their most experienced fighting units, their wormanas and senior captains to Polis to train with her and to get to know their fellow officers within the Kongeda.  This ‘training together’ of gonas of the Kongeda is something new that Lexa persuaded Anya to try in the NT and both are pleased with the results; fewer brawls between different krus and greater flexibility in the disposition of their gonas. There is no longer the need to group gonas just by kru. Now Delphikru fight well alongside or within units of Trikru or Podakru and Louwoda Kilron’s gonas are fitter and have learnt about tactics and battlefield traps.

Next morning breakfast is eaten ‘on the hoof’ as the horses pick their way carefully down the mountainside following a faint deer track. In silence they pass through woodlands that are starting to show signs of this year’s new growth. Light can still penetrate the well-spaced beeches, maples and oaks as their fresh young leaves have not yet come together to make an impenetrable canopy. Higher up the hillside well grown firs seem to loom, looking blackly down on their frivolous leaf shedding sisters whose generosity permits other plants to flourish briefly beneath their naked branches in a carpet of bright green shoots and flowers of white, yellow and blue.

A slight squeeze to Snacha’s sides has him changing his gait up to a trot, Lexa’s eyes have closely followed the small figure riding at the head of their convoy. This is Bigas Selene, Captain of the Handmaids, a tiny plana mounted on her chunky warhorse Spam. “If you shout for ‘Bigas’ (Big) Heda everyone will look for a tall gona. They won’t even notice strik (little) me as I end them.”  The incongruous name also sets her apart from Strik Selene who is as tall as Bigas is short. The two gonas have fought side by side for many years and are used to their contrary names.  For a few moons it was confusing for everyone else but now over two years later all the Handmaids and Lexa know the two of them well. Bigas is signalling there’s trouble ahead, Lexa senses Barb and Phoebe draw closer to her. Arrows start to fly from high in the dark trees. The first few are on target and Lexa, with Barb’s help, must knock them aside with her short sword. After that it is more of a melee, a group of riders’ thunders down the hillside only to find four Handmaids on trained warhorses barrelling into them, blocking their way to Heda. The archers themselves come under attack when Strik Selene and Jules jump from their mounts and climb nimbly up two of the massive firs. Bigas, Isla, Blair and Artis join in taking down the mounted attackers, supporting the original four Eris, Eva, Hellen and Cassie. Lexa, Barb and Phoebe are no longer under aerial assault. No more arrows come their way and the mounted attackers are falling under the ruthless blades of the Handmaids. It doesn’t take long to end it, with only one attacker getting close to Lexa. He had flung himself off his horse and rolled under the belly of Bigas’ Spam to get to her. Then Heda’s first blade strikes his own aside, whilst her second pierces his thickened leather armour to find his heart.

All the attackers are either dead or nearly so, two Handmaids Eva and Cassie have been wounded. Jules binds the cuts, reporting that Eva’s slash to her leg is serious. The two surviving attackers remain silent unto death, but their confessions are not needed when the bone necklaces and ear studs they wear easily identify them as Boudalan.  Eva rides double with Barb and Cassie stays close to Strik, they still have half a day’s riding before joining Heda’s army.  

In the Rule of Heda Lexa. Year 3.  4th Moon. Waning Crescent. Podakru – The Waters of Cleve  

Within her War Tent Lexa stands at the map-table staring down at the positions shown for her own and Kenton’s gonas. The information from Anya is as expected, somehow Nia has convinced Kenton that the northern krus need wars to survive and that together they can dominate those further south. Lexa imagines the clever and manipulative kwin manoeuvring the Boudalan Chief into boasting of his and his gonas’ prowess in battle and then dropping acidic comments into his ear about how Heda Lexa, despite carrying the Fleim and having experienced wormanas to advise her, is naïve and inexperienced. To be so despised makes her angry but anger must not rule her thoughts and she examines again her plans and strategies. Perhaps Nia and Kenton are influenced by Heda Odin’s poor battle strategy at Toron? No-one can deny that Heda Odin carried the Fleim; yet he commanded poorly, getting himself and hundreds of others killed.

It is Quint’s information from the mission that is a surprise. In the OT Boudalan fought this battle alone. Yet when Anya and Quint reported back, Quint tells his Heda that Sangedakru gonas are part of Kenton’s army.

Lexa looks at the burly hef questioningly. “How did you come by this information Captain? No Scouts have reported seeing Sangedakru gonas.”

Quint straightens when addressed by his Heda and ducks his head respectfully before answering. “I could smell them, Heda.

Lexa raises an eyebrow. “Smell them, Captain?”

“Sha Heda. I scouted in Sangedakru for some summers.” Lexa sees Indra nod her head in agreement with that statement. “Their gonas do not wash in water even when it is freely available. They clean themselves with oil and sand. The oil smells sharp and tangy and their cleaning is never very effective. Sangedakru gonas smell a strange mix of sweat and sagebrush. I smelt their presence in that camp.”

What Quint cannot tell his Heda is how many Sangedakru gonas are embedded in the Boudalan army. He could have smelt ten, a hundred or more.

……………………………………………

October 11^th 2141 CE.  The Ark. Alpha Station 

The faint ticks and creaks of metal joints as they expand and contract and the occasional snore are for some time the loudest noises in their bedroom. Then sighs and the rustle of thin blankets can be heard as Abby, painfully awake and alert, tries to calm herself and stop her brain’s whirling thoughts.  Today had been horrible, a nursing assistant (NA) caught stealing antibiotics for his sick child was dragged away from her ward by three Ark Guards. ‘Floating’ the inevitable punishment for his crime. She sees NA Jonathan Murphy’s face blanche with fear and desperation as he stammers out denials to the Chief Medical Officer Dr Duggan Lassiter.  Abby blinks, licks her lips, thinks about getting a drink of water. Then stills herself; Jake needs his sleep, it’s a big day tomorrow. His first in post as a Senior Environmental Engineer and their daughter’s birthday. Abby must let him rest so that he can face that momentous day with a clear head and plenty of energy.

Clarke’s birthday, their baby-girl will be 10 tomorrow. She smiles thinking of their very own tiny bombshell of a human, with more energy and confidence than her parents put together. Abby’s glad that her girl hasn’t succumbed to the seriousness that is living on the Ark, not yet anyway. But she worries, can Clarke become at least on the surface, sufficiently compliant to survive the Ark’s ways. A constant fear of death by ‘floating’ looms over everyone and the justice dealt out by the Ark Guard is harsh.

Jake turns over, eyes open and anxious. “Honey?”

“Is she going to be, okay? Can we keep her safe?”

In his arms is comfort and reassurance. “She has years to be a kid Abbs. By the time she’s 18 things will have changed. You’ll be head of Medical in a couple of years and when I’m in charge of the Big E (Environmental) things will be better managed and Thelonious is all fired up, he’s going to run for office on the promise of reducing the number of ‘Floating’ offences.”   

He pulls her gently onto his chest. Tomorrow will be a busy day and he and Abby will try their damnedest to make Clarke’s birthday joyous and fun even though both of them fear for the future.

Chapter Text

In the Rule of Heda Lexa. Year 3.  5th Moon. New Moon. Podakru – The Waters of Cleve  

After two days of bloody battle the Waters of Cleve run a sluggish red and the outer skins of the fifty Podakru war canoes pulled up onto its’ banks are plastered with thick coats of greasy red-brown slurry. Victory stinks sickly sweet and gonas collecting bodies, abandoned weapons and arrows, cover their faces with cloth masks as they move through clouds of flies, disturbing the insects as they feed. Favouring her left leg Indra makes her way slowly towards the lakeshore where funeral pyres are being built. Walking racks her body with a pain that is to be ignored for now, but she must pay a quick visit to the fisas (healers) before the day’s end. Time and again she stops to direct groups of exhausted gonas to find; the fisas, wood, food and even their own tents the branwadas (fools)!

Jok! (Fuck), she slips on a mess of blood and mud, just saves herself from falling into the filth and continues to search the buzzing field for her Heda; she must speak with her. A dead Azgedan gona was found amongst the Sangedakru corpses.  At last, she sees Phoebe, Strik Selene and Eris emerge from behind the furthermost pyre and Heda Lexa walks with them. Heda walks a little stiffly, who doesn’t after days of fighting, but looks well as she gives orders and directions to her captains, just as a strong Heda should do. Indra pauses for a few moments watching, could she be looking at the gada (girl) who at only sixteen summers is going to change their world? She feels her ribs tighten as she brings her tumbling emotions under control. Her head droops, she’s exhausted and humbled; when she raises it again, the decision is made. She will follow Heda Lexa to the end of her fight, not just loyal to a Trikru Heda (even one with an Azgeda nontu!) but because this Heda is special. She will be the one to stop the wars and lead all krus in new ways of living.  Indra moves on, her boots squelching in offal as yet another bewildered Delphikru gona stumbles into her path searching for the corpse of his friend. She points to where a brigade of his kru had fought almost to the last gona and then struggles on down the slope towards the river that will in time run clean again.

It’s dark by the time Lexa, Chief Leto kom Podakru, Chief Rush kom Delphikru and Indra light the first pyres and launch burning platforms of Podakru dead onto the lake. Flames rise high into the sky carrying to Keryon (the Spirits) those whose fight has ended. So many and so large are these cremations that they create a radiant light that rivals the sun and all who watch with heads bowed are sweating in the heat. Lexa stands, surrounded by survivors of yet another battle, watching fire devour those who have followed their leaders to war and death. After every battle the question must be asked. ‘Was this victory worth it?’ Just over ten thousand gonas ended their fight at Cleve. The Boudalan army is no more, seven thousand six hundred died, leaving only five hundred to surrender. Sangedakru lost all two hundred and seventy, Trikru seven hundred and thirty, Delphikru five hundred, Louwoda Kilron one hundred and Podakru eight hundred and fifty-five, plus the one Azgedan.  The dead, wounded and living, whether close to you or strangers, are to be counted, cared for or mourned. Lexa nods her head in respect; closest to her on this first pyre are Cassie and Artis, Handmaids who died at her side when she and a troop of Trikru Rangers had intervened to help Delphikru gonas facing the drug maddened Sangedakru as they cut their way through Kongeda lines.  It had been a desperate fight. Sangedakru never retreat. Before battle they chew some leaves that give them, for a time, great strength and an insane thirst for blood and battle. Rumours have circulated for many summers that the ‘battle leaves’ make them so blood crazed that if they defeat their enemy too quickly, they will then turn on their allies or even each other to satisfy their lust for killing! Two hundred and seventy Sangedakru fought and died at Cleve, and it was Quint’s sense of smell that meant Lexa was ready for them.  Now she stands, hands clasped behind her back and takes onto her shoulders yet another accounting of blood and death.

Pyres continue to burn for the next two days as the aftermath of battle is managed by those practised in the skill. Indra is now giving orders hopping about on crutches. Anya and Quint have set up stockades for the surviving Boudalan and Lexa and Leto prepare to deal with Chief Kenton kom Boudalan, who survived the battle this time around. Tristan, tasked by Lexa with capturing the Boudalan Chief alive, had done so and although Kenton is much battered and bandaged, he lives. Not for long if Leto has any say in the matter, she is proposing that he is killed as a sacrifice to the Keryon of the Great Lake. This Podakru method of execution starts with the wrongdoer’s tendons, of both hands and feet, being severed. The criminal is then manacled and placed in a large leather bag that is filled to the top with stinking fish heads. The bag is then sealed and hauled by canoe out into the Lake’s deepest waters. There the Podakru executioners wait and listen as the bag floats on the lake, striking it with heavy wooden clubs whenever they see movement or hear any noise. A final coup de grace is a barbed fishing spear driven into the middle of the bag as it starts to sink.

“It is only right Heda that Podakru who were attacked by this branwada have the privilege of killing him. He’s already blubbered out accusations against Nia kom Azgeda. He is of no use to anyone alive.”

Lexa can’t dispute that Podakru and the village of Cleve suffered huge damage from the Boudalan attack, and that Kenton took little persuading to push blame onto the Azkwin. But Lexa has a use for the greatest miner of his generation. “Chief Leto can we discuss this further in my tent over breakfast?”

The two start to walk towards the great tent, Leto’s face set to an expression of stony displeasure, when fast hoofbeats alert them to an approaching Scout.  They turn to watch as he pulls his exhausted mount to a skidding stop, slides from its’ back and kneels before Anya. He speaks; Anya’s head snaps up and when he points expressively to the northeast everyone, including Lexa, looks in that direction. There, just visible upon the crest of the long rocky ridge called Shakenam, is an army. Thousands of gonas stand along the snaking edge, looking down on the valley of Cleve, where Lexa, her army and the remains of Boudalan’s army, are engaged in caring for their wounded and mourning the dead. Lexa’s jaw tightens, this is something entirely new. No army appeared on the horizon when Lexa defeated Boudalan in the Old Times (OT).  But she can’t ponder that now, the newcomers could be with them in less than half a day, she needs to prepare.

“Anya have our gonas rest and eat before dividing them into three of the 'Spear' formations.  Two Spears are to wait on this side of the river, the third is to march back to the lakeside. Chief Leto, we will put our archers into your canoes, as we did before.” The Podakru Chief nods in agreement and gestures to her wormana Rod. Lexa turns tired eyes to her two senior wormanas. “Let whoever it is, march all the way to the battlefield while we wait and rest.” Then she takes a deep breath. “Anya, the prisoners are to be killed if it looks as if battle is to be joined.” Anya’s face is hard as flint when she nods in agreement. Vomit wells up Lexa’s throat, she swallows it down and her army leaves off mourning to face battle again.

Indra limps to her side when Leto leaves to get the canoes prepared and both of them look towards Shakenam. It must be Nia bringing her gonas, fresh and ready to fight, against an exhausted victor. Lexa ‘knows’ it is the Kwin, an Azgedan killed with the Sangedakru gonas could only mean that Nia, her army ready for battle, has been waiting to see the outcome of Boudalan’s attack. As Anya bellows out orders to her captains, Lexa and Indra watch tiny figures in the far distance start to snake down from the ridge. Both tear themselves away from the sight, there is much to do.

Just over three marks (hours) later Lexa’s mounted on Snatcha and her army is in position. She waits, Anya and Indra at her side, as the enemy marches forward. “How many do you count?”

Anya’s horse fidgets as her rider leans down to check with two gonas who stand nearby. “We agree on six thousand foot and a thousand mounted Heda.” There’s no question now as to whose army approaches, as the well-disciplined force is preceded by a rider holding aloft a huge flag marked with the hand of Azgeda. The Kwin rides to war, the handprint is coloured bliden (red).

………………

Saddle leather creaks ominously as their horses step carefully down the steep slope, Nia feels Feisbona’s (Wolfsbanes’) muscles tighten beneath her thighs when loosened scree starts to rattle and for some moments he skitters and skids on the insecure surface. Her sharp wrench to his reins has the war-horse dropping back onto his haunches, nostrils flaring with fear, as he continues to slide. He fights her control, biting through the bone bit as foam sprays from his lips, his hide lathers and when his iron shoes strike sparks that arc up onto his coat, he starts to rear. All travelling in the Kwin’s entourage freeze, not daring to move or even breathe as she struggles to steady the great stallion. They all know that the last person who had the temerity to try and assist her with her horse was killed, very slowly, by the Kwin’s torturer Mallus. No-one can think Kwin Nia weak and in need of assistance and live. Nia hangs on, raking Feisbona’s sides bloody with her spurs, as she forces his dancing steps towards a flattened grassy area just a few cubits ahead.

Jok! Being thrown from her horse is probably the only way this jokking situation could get any worse. When the spy arrived at her camp a few days ago, with his news of the great battle, Nia hadn’t believed him. “Ai Kwin, they fought for two days and nights. Heda Lexa was like a rampaging pauna, slaying all in her path, while her gonas moved as one mighty unstoppable force. The Boudalan fell like ripe wheat. When victory was proclaimed, the beautiful young Heda herself raised the flag of the Kongeda above Cleve!” The young hef (man) had looked up, daring to meet her eyes, seemingly proud of himself and his news.

Her knife finds a home in the lying natrona’s (traitor’s) chest the instant he finishes speaking. Enraged by his betrayal she had not allowed his lies to sway her and immediately ordered her army to fast-march on Cleve and sent another spy, a reliable young gada called Echo, to find out what really happened.  A resounding victory for Lexa kom Trikru was just not possible when Kenton had eight thousand gonas, all armed with excellent weapons supplied by Nia, as well as a squad of Sangedakru, under his command. The Sangedakru, a last-minute addition suggested by her wormana Odd and reluctantly agreed to by her ally Chief Circe kom Sangedakru, had only one task; to kill Heda Lexa.

It had all gone wrong. Echo reported back yesterday while they were still travelling to Cleve. Her words confirmed, with a voice that shook with fear, what the original spy had said.  Heda Lexa is alive and well, Boudalan’s massive army has been destroyed with only five hundred left alive. Echo had not seen the battle, she had been travelling with her kwin, so could not say how Heda Lexa had won such a resounding victory, but she is a witness to her survival and that there are now five thousand Kongeda gonas camped at Cleve.

Nia pondered her position as her army marched. With her seven thousand gonas outnumbering the exhausted victor, turning back to Azgeda is not an option. Unrest within her kru, caused by, amongst other things, a winter so hard that many starved and baseless rumours that Heda Lexa is the goufa (child) of Bliden kom Azgeda, means it is imperative that all in Azgeda continue to see their Kwin as strong and that Heda Lexa dies. Turning back would mean losing face and allegations of their Kwin being ‘weak’, some would even dare to whisper ‘a coward', for retreating from battle against a smaller force, would flow through her kru like Azgeda’s mighty rivers. She would still be Kwin, her ruthless winnowing of Azgedan nobility has left no-one alive, save Roan, who could claim her throne, but her right to expect instant, unquestioning obedience would be lost. Then there’s Bliden’s family, they may have banau (banished) their greatest gona and heir when he took a Trikru for his houmon (spouse), but they’ve remained powerful within Azgeda despite his betrayal. How could they not be influential, when their herds of caribou are Azgeda’s greatest source of leather and meat, and their gonas have proved valuable in every one of her battles. That they have not said anything in support of the ‘Heda kom Azgeda’ rumours, means nothing. Likely they consider their position strengthened by having a Heda who claims kinship to them. Jokking Bliden, the hef followed his hefdong (dick), like all hefs; the problem should have been solved when her gonas ended his fight in Scotti. Jok em! (Fuck him!) 

She reaches the safety of the grassy plateau and with Feisbona under control she dismounts. “Ontari, get his bit replaced!”  There’s a flurry of activity as the young gada takes the horse to one side to remedy the problem. The repair gives Nia time to catch her breath and see for herself the army waiting for her in the valley below. She straightens her stance as her eyes rake the lowlands and the lazy old river that curls its’ way across the landscape. This battle needs to be planned carefully; it’s not going to be the easy victory she had originally envisaged when she thought she’d be eliminating an enemy (Boudalan or Kongeda) exhausted and much reduced in numbers.  Her fingers snap and a goblet is placed in her waiting hand, she takes a long swallow of the hoppy ale and wipes her lips. Sha (Yes), she needs to think.

 October 18^th 2141 CE.  The Ark. Alpha Station – The Griffin Apartment. 1800 hrs   

Jake’s sitting in front of the flickering screen when Abby wanders in with mugs of tea. He looks slumped and forlorn without Clarke at his side, watching the old TV programmes with him.

“Jake don’t be upset because Clarke wants to spend time with her friends, she’s not rejecting you, she’s just becoming herself a little bit more and we agreed that activities, like the drawing and board games groups, are good for her and we get a little alone time.”

Jake shrugs and grins ruefully, ‘alone time’ does not, twelve years into their marriage, mean a dash to the bedroom; it’s more likely to involve talking about politics and work problems that they don’t want to discuss in front of their baby girl. Abby leans down to kiss him. “Any luck with the O2 scrubbers?”

“Part of Flint Station has been shut down permanently and the funeral service for the twelve who died was taken by the Chancellor herself.   Since then, we’ve managed to get a small improvement in efficiency , enough to keep us going. It’s the politics that worry me. Chancellor Sydney wants to be seen to be doing something dynamic in response to the gossip and rumours about there being an ‘oxygen crisis’. So tomorrow she’s putting new laws before the Council, what she’s going to call ‘The War Against Waste’.”

Abby puts the mugs onto the side table, slides into Jake’s lap and puts her arms around his tense shoulders. She leans into him, and he gently pulls her head down into the warm spot just below his chin. Her words are almost lost in his collar. “Wilful wasting of resources is already a floating offence love; how can her new laws stop this supposed crisis?”

“Thelonious, my boss Simmons and your boss Lassiter, have done an analysis of oxygen use for every activity recorded as happening on the Ark. I saw the raw data and must admit that the number crunching is impressive.” He sighs. “So much is going to change hon.” His hand gently releases her hair from its’ tie. “Some things are ringfenced, like Factory Station’s production of pharmaceuticals, Tesla’s power generation, Farm Station and the mess areas; what she’s going for are the low hanging fruit. Activities that have heavy oxygen use but do not contribute, in a way that can easily be measured, towards our survival.” Abby snuggles into him a little closer, his words make her uncomfortable. What will Clarke’s childhood become during a ‘War Against Waste’?

Jake grunts when her elbow catches his ribs, and she squirms pulling it back. “Oof…. It’s going to be grim sweetheart. Only the Guard, or people with a medical certificate can use the gym, all active games and sports are banned. Only authorised social events will be permitted and only one event will ever be authorised: Unity Day. No music, dancing, parties or energy inefficient entertainments will be allowed.” He stops speaking and swallows hard before continuing. “Unless it’s an emergency no adult will be permitted to run in public areas of the Ark and the final nail, in our coffin in the sky, is that the burden of proving the defence of ‘accidental or unintentional waste of resources’ will lie with the defendant. Who must prove it beyond reasonable doubt.” He pauses for a few moments, deep in gloomy thought.

Abby’s body tenses as she processes. “It’ll be like living in prison. A big, grey, boring prison. Poor Clarke and Wells, theirs and later generations will ‘live’ in this soulless tin can!” She turns in his arms, looking up to see tears welling in his eyes.  “At least we had some fun when we were young. Do you remember that party for Melissa’s eighteenth birthday, when the theme was ‘Top Hat and Tails’? You looked so handsome, even if your top hat was made of polystyrene and your ‘tails’ of tissue. Then my rice paper dress started to disintegrate during the last dance.”

“That dress was perfect. It came off so easily!” For a while today’s troubles fade away and the couple take advantage of their ‘alone time’ to engage in the one activity that even the Chancellor wouldn’t dare to ban.  

 October 18^th 2141 CE.  The Ark. Alpha Station – Rec Room. 1800 hrs  

“Wells we will draw this!” Clarke places a white knight in the centre of the table “and Charlie come sit on my lap, we can draw together. How is your mom today?” There’s no denying Clarke; straight away Wells’ focus switches to the chess piece and Charlotte hurries over and climbs into the older girl’s lap. They all pick up stubs of pencils and start to draw. Young brows furrow and pink tongues tease plump lips, deep in concentration.

The Alpha Station Rec Room is full, this is a popular activity, with participants varying in age from sixty-six (Albert Kane) to five (Charlotte Aubusson) and all are diligently focusing on their work. Some copy a DaVinci anatomical drawing of a skull, others sketch from ‘life’ (a muscular young guard sitting on a stool in their underwear – there are children present!) and at a couple of tables are the ‘technical’ drawers who ‘enjoy’ hand-drawing electric motors, machine parts and mechanical systems.  

Walking between the tables, stopping occasionally to give instruction or encouragement is Melissa Jaha. Melissa, a tall slender Alpha Station woman, created this group as a form of recreation that could attract participants from all the Ark’s stations.  Melissa, together with her husband Thelonious, are well known for leading ‘multi-station’, ‘resource frugal’ activities. Thelonious, the young Head of Engineering, is working hard to cultivate a sympathetic public image across the whole of the Ark. His challenge for the Chancellorship is gathering pace and has support from Melissa and many of his friends who believe that as Chancellor he can make the Ark a more humane place, where death by ‘floating’ is a last resort rather than the standard punishment for any wilful waste of resources. Melissa walks over to the table of youngsters, glancing down at her ten-year old son’s efforts. Oh dear, as per usual it’s terrible and if it’s meant to be that chess piece he's been staring at intently, no-one would guess. Her clever boy has no talent for drawing, but he will try anything to please his best friend Clarke!

The Next Day – Ark Guard Offices Alpha Station

“Major Tallus, Inspector Logan, Lieutenants Byrne, Shumway and Gru, at ease.” Arms that had been held stiffly slide smoothly to clasp behind backs and stances widen. “Lieutenants Gomez and Williams report immediately to Chancellor Sydney in her office.” The last-named officers salute smartly and leave the room, the door hisses as it shuts behind them.

Commander of the Ark Guard Seamus Lister fiddles with his computer before rising from the ancient office chair and worn metal and plastic desk that his rank entitles him to use. He walks forward and with a gaze that is both cold and measuring, assesses the five officers in front of him. All are in clean uniforms, wear stab vests and have a shock baton or taser holstered at their waist. Each is fit and he knows them to be capable of handling themselves well in a crisis. Shumway is the youngest and untested, but he’s already shown great promise. Lister likes the man.

“This briefing is off the record. If you have a problem with that go with the other two now. I will not make any note of it on your personal record if you choose to leave. Gomez and Williams are not in the loop.” He pauses. No-one leaves.  Lister paces slowly as he speaks.

“Chancellor Sydney has been forced by circumstances, the detailed nature of which is beyond your pay grades, to bring in new rules about how we live. These rules will be known collectively as the “War on Waste”. It’s our job to enforce these new laws by the two punishments available to us. The Sky Box for those under 18 years of age and ‘Floating’ for everyone else.” He stands in front of the screen and flicks a switch. He points at the screen. “This legislation was enacted yesterday and will become law in ten days. Take your time, read it through carefully.”

Grace Byrne had thought this meeting would be just another excruciating session of watching Shumway kissing Commander Lister’s ass.  It seems not, as it slowly dawns on her that the words on the screen are going to make life on the Ark very different. Fuck, she can almost taste the fear, smell the despair and hear the screams of those she will be frogmarching to the ‘Float Chamber’.  To her right Logan’s eyes are bugging out and Shumway looks as if he’s about to puke. She finishes reading and watches Lister chew on his greying moustache as he glares at the scuffed metal floor.  

“I’ve had several discreet meetings with Chancellor Sydney and persuaded her that even after these rules come into force, the Guard must have some discretion in how they are enforced. For us to arrest and ‘float’ people who are key to our survival cannot be allowed to happen, but neither can the public see us favour our Alpha Station colleagues. We can easily afford to lose useless fuckers with makework jobs in Factory, Flint, Hydra and Agro Stations but we won’t survive without the Guard or our essential professionals.” He looks at each of them, these are his best people, the most reliable performers. The ones who can keep their mouths shut! “The Chancellor has selected Councillor Pike to oversee our exercise of this discretion.” Lister huffs, he hadn’t worked so hard persuading Sydney to give him this power only to have Pike put in charge over him, but the Chancellor would not be swayed. “All arrests of Alpha Station citizens will go through Pike. Only on his say so will they be floated.” He looks up piercing eyes searching their faces for weakness. “Nothing I have said in this room must be repeated outside it and if word of this does get out I will ‘float’ the lot of you. Kapische?”

“Yes Sir!”

Grace keeps her face still and eyes steady, she’d thought Lister was an okay guy. Seems she was wrong.

In the Rule of Heda Lexa. Year 3.  5th Moon. New Moon. Podakru – The Waters of Cleve  

Heda Lexa’s disposition of her gonas is clearly intended to funnel the newcomers towards the recently cleared battlefield.   

Nia, wary of the strange troop formations; that look like arrowheads or spears and the clear ‘funnelling effect’, orders her army to a slow walk and again takes stock. Her forces outnumber the enemy by at least two thousand, the Kongeda’s gonas fought a battle a few days ago, they must be weary, some will carry wounds.  Looking to the lake and its’ shore full of smoking pyres she makes her decision. At this place already soaked in blood she will destroy this impudent Heda and Ontari, although only brought to her court three years ago and not yet truly  trained to her will, shall become Heda.

She turns in the saddle and clicks her fingers at Circe kom Sangedakru, it is time for the Sangedakru gonas to chew their ‘battle leaves’. The sour-faced Sangedakru chief acknowledges the order before turning her mount and galloping to the back of the army where her own gonas march, eating the dust generated by the Azgedan cavalry.

Chapter Text

WARNING – TIME HOPS BACK.

The events in Polis take place while Lexa travels to and arrives at Cleve.

In the Rule of Heda Lexa. Year 3.  4th Moon. Waning Crescent Moon. Polis Harbour  

A few days after Heda Lexa leaves Polis to go to war against the Boudalankru, the cook makes her way to Polis’ docks to search for a young plana (woman) she hasn’t seen in three summers. “She will look very different ai lukot (my friend). The tight braids and war paint are no more but you will know her. The strong dark brows and eyes, they will be the same.”

She wriggles on the rickety stool, jok (fuck) she’s too old to sit in smoky bars that serve indifferent ale and even worse soup, and it’s the third she’s visited tonight.  At least the music is good, the singer’s voice is tuneful and low, with just a trace of huskiness and the words that rise to the blackened rafters hint at loss and tragedy.  The audience sit or stand enthralled as they sip their ale. A good song makes you thirsty and most mugs are empty by the time the singer reaches the final verse.

And if I ever lost you
How much would I cry
How deep is the ocean
How high is the sky.*

Head bowed Luna acknowledges the applause and thanks those who drop tokens or coins into the tankard at her feet. Voices that had stilled during her songs now come to life and soon the room is noisy with chatter and calls for more ale and food. She steps down from the tall stool, carefully guarding her guitar from wandering, if admiring, hands and makes her way to the bar where barrels of ale and cider stand ready tapped. She’s earned enough to feed herself and her shipmates while they load up with cargo. 

At the bar an older plana, wrapped in a long cloak and with her curly grey hair freely falling about her face, shuffles sideways to make room for her.

“Chof (Thanks).”  

“You always had a lovely voice. It’s good to hear you sing again Luna.” Skaikrasha (Storm) feels Luna stiffen, she’s likely preparing to flee and gently places her open palm on the strong arm.  “Have no fear, I’m not your enemy. I bring a message is all.”  She raises her hand, signalling that Luna may leave if she wishes.

Luna recognises the Tower’s head cook and calms a little. “A message from who?”

“No, not here. We can go to wherever you feel safe, then we can talk.”  Luna snorts, the only place she feels safe is far away from here.

“Come, we will go to my boat, after I have bought supplies for my crew.”

Skaikrasha carries one of the baskets. It’s heavy, laden with a large raised crust pie, a flagon of ale, bread and cheeses. The two of them walk quietly along the docks to where Luna’s boat ‘the Sally’ is at anchor. In the light cast by the quay’s lamps and the ship’s own lanterns Skaikrasha can make out a medium sized boat, about thirty cubits in length, with closed decks, two masts and a cabin. Luna halts and hails the crew.

“Hail the Sally. Hailing the crew of the Sally. A friend with food!”

The cabin door swings open, and a huge man, his bare chest draped with necklaces of fishhooks, dried starfish and pearls, steps out onto the deck.

“Hei Luna. Who’s that with you, are you safe?”

“An old friend and I’m good Donnie, I’ve brought enough food for the next day or so.”

Reassured Donnie puts out the gangway and soon with the food safely transferred to the galley, where the crew of two take readily to eating pie and drinking ale, Luna can take Skaikrasha to her bunk, she lights a lantern.  “This is as safe as I can feel in Polis. Now, tell me what this is about.”

Skaikrasha takes from her pocket a tightly folded page and hands it over.  Immediately her fingers touch it Luna notices the quality of the vellum. For a moment she caresses the thin document, it’s been a long time since she felt anything this fine. There’s no tie or seal, she looks at Skaikrasha. “Have you read it?”

“Heda, Skaisora (Bird) and I made this plan together. I have not read the words, I cannot read gonasleng, but I know what she is asking and have agreed to my part in it.”

Luna slips her fingers into the folds and gently pulls the creamy page open and reads.

“My friend

I go to fight in the north, and nothing is certain in battle save that some will die. If my fight ends the Flame will be taken from my body by Flame Keeper Julius and brought back to Polis.

Apart from us I know of four black bloods alive today. In Polis Tower are Aden 6, Luce 5 and baby Tenson. In Azgeda Kwin Nia has hidden from the Flame Keepers a girl named Ontari, she is thirteen. Ontari is being trained by Nia to follow the Kwin and her ways. If I die in Podakru Nia or Ontari will kill Aden, Luce and Tenson, even though they are too young to challenge in a Conclave.

Save my children Luna. Please. Take them to your hidden place, where those who refuse to kill live in safety. Bring them up as lovers of peace and give them the choice that we never had.

If you say yes to this request Storm and Bird will, as soon as they hear of my death, bring the children to you.

Lexa”

Luna looks up from the letter, Skaikrasha can see tears gather in the young plana’s eyes as she nods her head. “Sha (Yes), sha. If her fight ends bring them to me at the inukshuk standing on the shore north of Bridgeton. Light a fire and I will come to take them to safety.” Luna doesn’t know why she’s crying, there’s no reason to as Lexa is just being Lexa and planning for all eventualities, including the worst and that has not happened yet.

“Can Skaisora and I come too?”

Luna gapes at the request. “Huh.?”

“If Nia kom Azgeda controls Heda and the Tower neither Skaisora nor I will be safe there.  Nia will eventually realise who stole the goufas away and kill us. Or she will kill us for sport.”

Blinking away her tears and surprise Luna nods again. “Sh..sha!”

“Radon (Good).” Skaisora breathes a little easier now their plan is in place.   

“How did you find me? I only come to Polis a few times a year and I have changed how I look and what I do.”

“Heda told me where to look. Sometimes she seems to know everything and to be so old for a gada so young. I don’t know how she bears it all alone.” 

“Has she not got Costia? I thought those two would be together by now. Lexa has feelings for her I know.”  

“Costia is in Virginie. Her nomon (mother) wanted her help at their bakery and Costia’s apprenticeship with me was complete. If Heda had asked, Costia would have stayed, but Heda did not ask.”  The older plana sighs. “It is for the best, I think. The life of Heda is likely short and heartbreak when you are a youngon may heal more cleanly.”

They talk for a while longer and Skaikrasha sees that the gada she once knew is still to be found. The hair may be wild and tangled and the clothes stained with salt water, but Luna still looks frequently to her right, as if her bro Sol was still standing at her side ready to tease or hug his sis. Not for the first time the cook curses Titus and the Conclave.

In the Rule of Heda Lexa. Year 3.  5th Moon. New Moon. Ton DC 

Ton DC on this Spring morning feels pleasantly cool as Gustus swings his axe with practised ease and splits the last few logs, ready to be thrown into the waiting wagon. The village has done well for firewood these last years as the area that he and his gonakru have cleared is immense. What was once a flattish area, patchily populated with a mix of young and mature; birch, oak, willow and maple, with spruce and pine intermixed, has been clear felled. The best logs have been chosen by the Polis’ shipwrights and hauled away, those not chosen are sawn into 4-cubit lengths and stacked on site; useable brash is taken for firewood and the stumps burnt to fertile ash. When he chatted with Mello yesterday, they had joked that the farm Heda has named Arl’ton is greater in area than the rest of Ton DC.  But their work has not just been felling trees. First to be cleared was a boggy area to the west. They then drained and stabilised the soil and within a few moons a forty-cubit deep windbreak of spruce saplings was planted. Three years on and the young trees have grown into their purpose, taller than Gustus can reach, bushy and thick.  

Sheltered by that windbreak is the ‘farm’ proper. A large section in the north has already been planted with hazels that will start to crop nuts next year. They will be coppiced on a five-year rotation, the harvested wood being used for making torches, hurdles and baskets. Every spring and summer the hazels’ foliage will provide thick cover for many activities, including Ton DC’s pigs rooting for food.  Elsewhere on Arl’ton Farm they will plant apple trees, sweet chestnut, osier, holly and ash and on the south-eastern edge the sheltering stone walls of a huge garden are close to completion.  They’ve even built timber framed green-houses and roomy storage sheds leaning against those walls.

Gustus is proud of what he, Mello and the gonas have done. It’s not only the first step in defeating the Maunon, but it’s going to be the biggest farm in Trikru. Producing so much food and wood that the villagers of Ton DC will be able to trade surpluses all year round with their neighbours and Polis.  

Heda’s true purpose behind all of this ‘farming’ activity is to conceal from the Maunon (Mountain men) the fact that hundreds of her people are working not only at farming, but are also underground, clearing a way through the Great Tunnels.

Summers ago, Mello and his bros (brothers) Ben and Edmon, discovered a shaft that dropped deep into the earth. This shaft, a square hole lined with old world false stone, was full of dirt, tree roots, twisted metal and rubble. The metal they scavenged and traded, the dirt and rubble they dug through.  Clearing the shaft took the bros moons of work but it was worth it. When they finally broke through Ben, the youngest and lightest, was lowered down the shaft and into the blackness below. What felt like a long time later he lit a torch that Mello and Edmon could just see.  Mello remembers shouting down “Can you see anything?”  and Ben’s reply. “Sha (Yes), wonderful things!” **

At first, they thought it was just a big cave full of stuff from the old world.  Such places had been found before. Bunkers littered with; bones, rotting fabrics, fayoguns, tools and small metal containers of perished food. Whole underground spaces that were filled with rows of horseless carriages. Mello’s cave was massive, a great curved space that dripped with water and was home to many bats and other creatures that live in the dark. As well as bats and creepy living things it was full of machinery and tek from the old world. Cables stretched along the ground in ducts or twisting freely over the floor; some were so fine they could be used for fishing line or rabbit traps; others were thicker than Mello’s arm! There were great wagons sitting like metal skeletons on wheels clinging to rails of iron.  Pipes, there were so many pipes, some made of pottery others of metal or flimsy stuff that if you touched it turned to flaky mush. Metal boxes lined the walls, they had fronts made of glass and shelves holding nothing but dust. Little pieces of tek and hardware were everywhere; - nails, screws, bolts, bricks, bottles; there were even some woven bags.  And many, many skeletons; lying on the rails, the ground, curled into corners and even slumped on stairways.

The bros visited the cave many times retrieving small items. They pulled them up the shaft in baskets, they even managed to haul out one or two of the iron rails.  But it was Heda Lexa, Indra and Gustus who encouraged them to explore how far the cave extended under the ground and where, other than the shaft in its roof, it met the surface.

Axe resting on his shoulder Gustus walks into the ‘walled’ garden and then through a small stable style door into the first of three sheds. He shuts the door behind him. Inside candles are the only light and he must be careful where he steps.  Ryder, his face blackened with dirt is shovelling dark soil from a wheeled truck into a wide shallow chute that empties outside the garden’s wall.  From there it will be taken by ‘the gardeners’ and used in raised beds to grow beet, potatoes, kale and other produce. No tell-tale piles of rubble, soil or trash will be visible to the Maunon’s invisible eyes. Everything will look like a farm or garden. The two hefs exchange greetings and local gossip before Ryder asks. “Is there news from the north? Has Heda sent the branwadas (fools) from Boudalan to Keryon (the Spirits) yet?”

Gustus grunts discontentedly. “Only rumours. Penn’s second cousin’s goufa Millie, says her houmon (spouse) Simon came back from Polis yesterday and he says that Polis is full of ‘news’ that Heda has had a great victory and the Boudalan army is no more.” The two gonas, for a moment, forget their pride in their work here at Arl’ton and yearn to be in battle, fighting with Heda. Farming, felling and digging just isn’t the same. They exchange knowing looks, before Gustus leans his axe against the wall, picks up a shovel and sets off down the shallow slope and into what was, in the days before Praimfaya, Ballston Metro Station.

In the Rule of Heda Lexa. Year 3.  5th Moon. New Moon. Podakru – The Waters of Cleve  

The two armies face each other across the wide strip of reddened mud where so many have already died. In accordance with its traditions the army of Azgeda fields champions who ride between the two armies throwing out challenges of solo gonplei to the most well-known gonas of the enemy.

Lexa sits comfortably on Snatcha’s broad back, her expression stoic, while her eyes rake the ranks of Azgedan and Sangedakru gonas. The Sangedakru are packed closely together on the Kwin’s left flank, they look remarkably calm and composed for gonas who have chewed ‘battle leaves’, perhaps their chief Circe is waiting until the very last minute to give that order. Anya rides up to Lexa’s side. “The Boudalan prisoners are to die now?”

“Nou. I will offer to parley, if that fails, they are to die.”  

Indra snorts expressively. “Parley with the Azkwin? That cannot succeed.”

“For the sake of our gonas I must try. Quint, send a nimble gona to offer parley, someone who has a chance to escape death if the Kwin refuses to even consider speech with me. Indra, archers are to follow their every step and Anya be ready.” 

“Sha Heda.”  Their different voices acknowledge her orders.

After a few moments that are filled with the Azgedan champions’ hoots of derision at the lack of response to their challenges, Lexa sees Quint pass the white banner of parley to a young Trikru. The two speak earnestly for some time before Quint looks to his Heda for confirmation. Lexa nods her head in agreement, Lincoln kom Trikru is one of their best. If anyone can escape an angry Kwin Nia it is him. Carrying the banner Lincoln starts to ride at a steady pace across the mud.

As he goes forward a ripple of silence runs down the Azgedan lines. Their champions cease their bellowing, instead they gather around their Kwin. The long lines of gonas quieten as their attention focuses on the solitary figure riding proudly towards them.

Lincoln carries no visible weapon, the banner is heavy, and his horse Jos is finding the ground slippery, he slows to ensure Jos can manage the terrain. His job is a simple one; to deliver the offer of parley, await the Kwin’s response and if attacked he is to run. His Captain was clear. “You are honoured to represent Heda in this dangerous task, but you are not a sacrifice to Nia. If you are attacked head towards the lake, our archers are ready to cover you.”

Lexa watches the young gona ride the league or so to where the Kwin, her champions and wormanas are waiting.  As she sits, still and expressionless as a statue, Lexa’s head is full of the mathematics of death. Her army is exhausted, of the five thousand standing proud with weapons ready, up to one thousand carry a wound. The Azgedans have marched but not fought, they will be fresher, unwounded and have the confidence that greater numbers bring. But despite this she can win this battle if it is fought. But so many will die. Numbers pass in front of her eyes. One thousand Sangedakru, five thousand Azgeda, a thousand each of Trikru and Delphikru. Podakru five hundred and little Louwoda Kilron may lose all. Not forgetting the five hundred Boudalan prisoners.  Nearly another ten thousand will die.

Lincoln arrives at the Kwin’s party. No-one attacks him. There is a brief exchange of words. Then he turns back and waves the white banner above his head. Lexa hears Indra’s scoff of disbelief. The Azkwin has agreed to parley.

In the Rule of Heda Lexa. Year 3.  5th Moon. New Moon. Floukru Rig

It feels good to be home, back with people who think like she does, and their welcome is so warm. Goufas run to greet them when they reach the main deck and Donnie and Micha lift their own two giggling skats (boys) into laughing hugs.  That sets off an impromptu dance session as Aria and Tallus rush into Luna’s arms shrieking their delight at her return. Luna grins and hugs them tightly. Somehow these twins (aged four summers), orphans of a war lost long ago, have worked their way into her heart. They are hers now and she joins them and her crewmates in a jigging circle dance that ends when they all collapse on the floor in a happy tangle.

“Nomon nomon, did you get new strings for your guitar?  Nomon, nomon; did you bring us a present? Nomon, nomon; we missed you.”

Eventually everything from the Sally is brought up to the Rig’s living quarters and Luna, Donnie and Micha can tell their people the latest news from Polis. The goufas cuddle into their parents and Luna’s lap is full of sleepy twins.

The topic most eagerly pursued is that of Heda Lexa and her Kongeda. (Coalition). “What’s happening in the capital. Has Heda managed to persuade anyone else to join?”

The news that Windsong kom Ingranronakru is to put to the Buffalo Council her decision to join the Kongeda is greeted with delight. The rumours of Heda Lexa’s destruction of the Boudalan army less so. Micha kom Floukru fled Boudalan eight summers ago but wears her family’s bones still. Her sorrow is palpable, her bros and sis are likely in the army and if Heda’s victory is as overwhelming as the rumours say, then they are dead.  Stepan, like Micha, sought refuge from the mining kru and although he no longer wears the bones of his ancestors, Luna can tell he is worried for friends and family. War, war, war. Even as she seeks peace Heda Lexa fights wars.

When the goufas have gone to bed and most of the adults too, Luna and her close circle discuss the latest news in earnest and the debate as to whether Floukru should approach Heda about joining the Kongeda, flares into life again.   

Luna’s second in command is Apta, a young plana of Azgeda who fled her home when Nia chose her village as the site of her ‘autumn palace’ five summers ago. Apta’s nomon and nontu were village elders concerned for their people’s survival when Nia and her nobles raided the village’s winter stores of cured meats and dried vegetables so they could continue to feast. They complained to Nia about the theft. Their execution by Mulla was in public, the whole village was forced to watch as Nia ate with relish the last of the village’s smoked venison while she observed the flaying of those natronas (traitors) who dared to question her right to their food.  Apta fled that night and was found by Floukru sailors on the Sangedakru coast a few days later. The plana was close to death.

Apta recovered and became a member of Floukru, she has supported Luna ever since the natblida joined them and it was she who suggested Luna as their new leader when Ellis died last summer. Her remarks are always to the point.

“Luna, we cannot remain on this rig for all time. Even if trading in fish becomes more widespread and we can buy enough flour, beans and other vegetables, our population is growing and soon we will be unable to support them. We need another safe place. None of the islands we’ve found can sustain life, that only leaves the mainland. If Heda can bring peace to the krus a life ashore could be possible for some of us.”

Donnie questions this, he has stalwartly opposed joining the Kongeda. Not believing peace between the krus to be attainable. “All land is claimed by the krus. Who would give us a place to live? Azgeda? Trikru? The rich farmers of Yujleda? We have nothing but fish and our people are seen as bushada (cowards).”

Luna looks around the pinched faces of her lukots as they huddle around the fire-basket. Apta makes a good point, but so does Donnie. Why would Heda Lexa want to extend the protection of the Kongeda’s primary rule: - ‘attack one of us, you attack us all’, to Floukru?  The kru who will not fight, not even to protect themselves never mind others. What can they offer Heda?

For a while conversation about the Kongeda flags and Micha, Luna and Donnie talk more generally about what and who they saw in Polis. It’s Apta who asks “why is Heda investing so much time and wood in building ships? Can she even crew them?”  

Luna, who’d been talking with Stepan about ballast, snaps her attention to Apta. “That’s it. That’s what we have! The new ships she is building are  made for trade, they will need to be crewed. What we have plenty of - is sailors, skilled not only in fishing but in navigation.”

* With apologies to Irving Berlin

** The words spoken by Howard Carter when he opened Tutankhamun’s tomb in November 1922

Chapter Text

In the Rule of Heda Lexa. Year 3.  5th Moon. New Moon. Podakru – The Waters of Cleve  

As agreed, both leaders take an armed escort to the parley. Lexa sees familiar figures riding with Nia; the three advisors Pallas, Odd and Frey and Chief Circe kom Sangedakru. Less well known is the largest and most vocal of the Azgedan champions, a bulky hef (man) called Hector and riding at the very back is a young black-haired girl that Becca Pramheda whispers into her mind is the natblida Ontari.  

With Lexa are; Leto kom Podakru, Anya, three handmaids: Bigas Selene, Isla, and Hellen and Lincoln rides ahead carrying the banner. Indra and Rush kom Delphikru have serious wounds so they remain with the army; ready to execute the five hundred Boudalan prisoners and ride into battle, should the need arise. The remaining Handmaids are posted at a distance, arrows nocked should the parley become a fight. 

Kwin Nia rides at the head of her party. Her whole attitude is that of the ‘victor in waiting’, her demeanour and expression project an insolent confidence, that trumpets power, control and strength. On her brow is the bone and gold coronet of Azgeda, her armour and furs are pristine (except where blood from her horse’s torn sides have splashed her pale leather trousers); at her side hangs a workmanlike sword that she is known to wield with great skill.

Riding immediately behind the Kwin, as usual, is Circe kom Sangedakru looking as she always does, gaunt and sour. From the OT (Old Times) Lexa is aware of the deep hatred Circe bears Nia. The chief of Sangedakru remains an ‘ally’ of Azgeda through a well-founded fear for her people’s survival. Azgeda never needed to invade Sangedakru to dominate it. To invade the desert would be suicide, no army would survive longer than a few phases of the moon. Instead Azgedan rulers have supplied their much smaller and poorer neighbour with the meat and fodder that the desert cannot provide. In return Sangedakru gonas die in Azgeda’s many wars and Nia seems to take pleasure in treating the whole kru as her personal vassals. Circe wants to end this humiliating ‘alliance’ but her people would starve if she did. What Lexa needs to do is ensure that ships and a safe sea route are available between Sangedakru and Yujleda. Then Circe will have the chance to make that break. In the OT it took Lexa four years to discover Circe’s desire for change and another two to build enough ships to make that vital trade link. In the NT (New Times) she is working faster but not all the ships she has ordered to be built are complete. A few more moons and she could offer Circe regular sources of food from Yujleda and fodder from Trikru. But not yet, jok (fuck) it!

As she rides to the meeting place Nia scrutinises the young Heda and her escort. There are no signs of weariness or wounds on any of them. Heda’s pauldron is damaged, its outer edge has been sliced away, the remaining pieces are still bolted together and protect the shoulder joint, but the upper arm is more exposed and is likely bruised or even cut by whatever tore through the reinforced rubber. Heda’s thick leather belt and breast plate are scratched but whole and the gauntlets, such a clever design with jointed metal protecting the fingers, look in good repair. The gada herself is taller than Nia remembers from their meeting in Polis three years ago and although she doesn’t come up to Nia’s own four cubits, she is probably less than a hand’s span shorter.

Some of those who ride with Heda also catch Nia’s attention. Three of them are clearly bodyguards, what Nia’s spies say are called ‘the Handmaids.’ Two of the three are older planas (women), their hair starting to grey. They look experienced and capable, if one of them is very small. Nia smirks inwardly, Hector could probably lift that little one out of her saddle and tear her in two without breaking sweat. The third Handmaid is younger and not kom Trikru, again her informants report that members of Louwoda Kilron’s royal family are protecting Heda Lexa. Nia sighs. The Handmaids have frustrated six of her assassins and none of her spies in Polis have found a weak link within the group. If the Handmaids have goufas (children) they are grown, left home to pursue a trade or are already gonas (warriors). Her spies find no signs of bad habits like gambling, drunkenness, drugs or sex. Some have houmons (spouses) who are gonas like themselves.   Heda herself is every bit as frustrating as her bodyguards. She is young, but her life is all work, there don’t seem to be any skats (boys) or gadas (girls) that have caught her eye. Nearest to her politically are Indra and Anya kom Trikru, both well protected and themselves capable gonas. Indra’s goufa Gaia is estranged from her nomon (mother) and Anya has no goufas, though her bro still lives in Ton DC. Leto kom Podakru is the outsider but the Podakru chief is skilful at statecraft and an effective leader; they are in Podakru territory her presence at the parley is to be expected. The flag-bearer is merely a gona and not worth noticing.

As Nia observes Heda so Lexa assesses the Azkwin. Nia is tall and in her prime physically. The Kwin’s age is never referred to in public, but Indra has known her for many summers and puts her at about thirty-seven. Nia birthed one child Roan, now aged seventeen, to her houmon Idris. Rumours are than the birth was so violent that she cannot bear more children. Idris died in a hunting accident when Roan was five and Nia has had several lovers since. None survive her affections for long.

Both parties come to a halt on a level sandy area that was until recently home to Cleve’s famous horse market. No-one dismounts, this parley it seems is to be conducted on horseback. Not, thinks Anya, a good sign. She’s pleased to see Heda Lexa take the initiative and speak first.

“What brings you and your army to Cleve, Nia?”

“To honour our alliance with Boudalankru. Kenton kom Boudalan sought my aid as he defended his people from the hison (poison) you ordered your Kongeda vassal Podakru to place in the groundwaters that feed his kru’s caves.”

Leto can’t let an accusation like that slide without some response. “Lies!”  the Podakru chief challenges. “Podakru are no-one’s vassals and did not hison anyone. The bushada (coward) Kenton has admitted he lied. He tried to destroy Podakru; Heda and the Kongeda defended us. Go home Nia before Heda teaches you as hard a lesson as she taught Kenton.”

Nia bridles at Leto’s words. She’s no child to be taught lessons by a gada of sixteen and unlike Kenton she has experience of winning battles. Her reply is to repeat all of Kenton’s allegations against the Kongeda and as that brings no response at all from Heda Lexa, who if anything looks bored, she changes tack and makes the attack more personal. “I do not know why I expect honour from one who falsely calls herself Heda.” Anya is prevented from intervening by Lexa’s raised hand. “You did not defeat Luna kom Trishankru, you are not a true Heda kom Jus (Commander of the Blood). You are an imposter, a bushada who allowed a natblida (black blood) to live and now, along with your bushada wormanas (generals) and gonas, you fail to accept honourable challenges from the Champions of Azgeda. Brave gonas like Hector here. My army will trample you and your bushada gonas into the mud of Cleve.”    

Calm and stoic Lexa may be but Nia referring to herself, her wormanas and her gonas as bushadas is hard to take. Her anger builds and her wavering resolve becomes fixed. Nia must die today, on her blade. Her voice betrays nothing of this, in calm and measured tones she replies. 

“Kwin Nia, it seems that your memory is defective. Do you not recall that you along with the other kru chiefs proclaimed me Heda in Polis a little over three years ago and let me remind you of our meeting in Polis a few days later when, eventually, you bowed to me as your Heda.  Ai laik Heda (I am the Commander) and will not accept challenges from your underlings, like Hector here. Who is he, your latest champion of the fighting Pits?”

It's Nia who raises her hand this time, to prevent Hector lurching forward to attack the slight girl who insults him. “What if I challenged you Lexa kom Trikru, would you fight me or hide behind your wormana or some other branwada (fool) you have persuaded to accept you as Heda.”

“Would you fight me, Nia? Or are you a bushada who hides behind some lump of a gona you will name as your champion?”

Anya is close to death, she’s sure of it. She cannot believe her ears, her blood pounds through her body so fast she must stop herself from shaking. Because Lexa has just talked her way into fighting the Azkwin, solo gonplei! (single combat). How did this happen?  Indra will kill her, will kill Lexa, will kill everyone!

“I challenge you. Where shall we meet and what weapons do you choose?”  Nia settles back into her saddle ready to ride back to her tent and prepare herself.

“I choose here and now, with the swords and daggers we are wearing.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“I am. Fight me, or run away and be called bushada.” Heda Lexa leaps nimbly from her horse and invites her advisor to join her. “Anya be my second.”  Anya nods and dismounts. There’s no point telling the gada she’s mad at this point but if she lives Anya will not know what to do with her. Kiss her or kill her? Or maybe she and Lexa will both have to run from Indra. Probably a good thing the Trikru Chief is still limping.  “When I win watch the black-haired girl and the Champion. If I my fight ends get word to Skaikrasha and Skaisora before anyone else, that is important. Your oath on this Anya!”

“You will not lose.”

“Your oath Anya.”

“You have it, Heda. Lexa, you have it.” They grip arms and Anya moves away to talk with Odd whom Nia, her face white with fury, has chosen as her second. Lincoln is sent to fetch the Fleimkepa who will start the fight. The Handmaids await instructions.

The Azkwin dismounts and strips off to her leather pants, boots, shirt and breastplate. She unsheathes her weapons, noting the greenish tinge to her sword’s blade. She takes a few moments to speak privately with Ontari then turns to face her opponent, who in the short time she was looking away has somehow grown taller, looks more poised and very capable of using the sword grasped firmly in her hand.

October 20^th 2141 CE.  The Ark. Mecha - Station.  Apartment E23-5  

“I’m your mother and you’ll do what I say. Go to school, win prizes, bring them home. We need prizes…...” The slurred words are followed by a firm shove as Sofia pushes her daughter out of the apartment. The door shuts behind the girl with a firm click.  

Raven snaps a quick glance down E sector’s boardwalk, there’s Finn waiting for her at the T junction and she slouches off to meet the youngster. He’s only ten and sometimes the two years between them feels like a yawning chasm, but he’s a good kid. The pair head down the main corridor. Raven sings “boring, boring, boring’ under her breath. The stuff they call science is soooo simple. Why can’t she do something interesting for once, like make Pike go boom!  “Hey Finn, you finish your homework?” The young boy shakes his head and offers her his tablet. With a few deft strokes she finishes his MCQs, he’ll get a decent grade, enough to please his mom anyway. The tablet is safely in Finn’s backpack when he hands her half a ration bar.

“Thanks Rae. Best to keep Kelman off my ass while I can. What you got today?”

“Same old…. Maths, bio then, another ‘perfect score’ prize-giving in Alpha Station for the STEM test I aced.”

“Cool, more kudos for you and what was the prize last month, a candy bar?”

“Candy was the month before, last time was ration credits. Mom was pleased.”

The boy gives her a token poke to the ribs. “More rations for you and your bony ribs or more for your mom and her bottle?”

Suddenly and for no real reason Raven feels angry with Finn. He shouldn’t talk about her mom’s drinking. He only knows about it because he’s found her locked outside the apartment so often that she had to tell him something. But he shouldn’t….. it’s private and bad and ----------- and not his fault. She stops herself snapping at him and soon they are part of a procession of kids, making their way to the Mecha school rooms. They split at the door of the Maths Lab and Raven ducks inside to find a seat near the back. It’s better at the back she can read the advanced mathematics texts quietly and Mr Potter can lead the others through the Ordinary level stuff without disturbing her.  Potter is okay, on the few occasions she has problems he makes time to help her and her maths tests are always perfect scores.

After a school lunch of nutrient paste, the one meal her mother can’t steal, she heads to Alpha Station for the monthly prize giving. Since the scheme started a year ago Raven’s taken every top spot in STEM (Science Technology Engineering and Maths) for year 8. Once a month she makes her way to Alpha Station where she and a bunch of other kids receive a prize from whichever Council Member drew the short straw that morning.

Other school years have joined the scheme over the past months and Raven’s got used to some of the kids because like her they’re regulars. From Year 6 there’s little blonde Clarke, who’s a charmer and bossy as hell. She’s always organising some kid to do something. Clarke’s awards are for Biology and Art. Monty Green always takes the Coding prize and his friend Jasper sometimes makes it for General Science (the precursor for STEM). Wells Jaha is a ‘shoe in’ for the ‘good conduct’ award and sometimes he beats Jasper for the General Science slot.   

The kids hang around waiting for a Councillor to turn up to give out the prizes and mutter a few patronising words. Raven knows the various prize scripts by heart now, she’s only astonished the Councillors don’t realise that they are saying the same words to the same girl whenever it’s their turn. 

While they wait Raven makes a bee line for the snacks table where she finds that Clarke’s already there, doing an impressive job of clearing the minimal spread in record time. Raven grabs at the few things that are left. She can’t help herself, she snarks sharply at the greedy Alpha Station kid, who of all the children here has the least need for extra food. Alpha Station kids get candy on ration, or that’s what the rumours say.

Clarke startles guiltily and empties one of her pockets into Raven’s hand. “Sorry Rae, Jonny loves candy and since his dad died, he doesn’t get any and ….”

Raven regrets her snark immediately. “S’kay Clarkie. Who’s Jonny, you’ve never beaten me to the snacks before?”

“Jonny Murphy, his dad was floated about a week ago and my mom went to see his mom Mary and Jonny after it happened. His dad stole antibiotics and my mom was there when they caught him. Mom says that Mary just cries and cries and Jonny is still ill and has nothing. So, I thought some sweets might cheer him up.”

“That sounds tough. We could both go and see him if you want. After Councillor Whatnot says his bit.”

“Yeah. Wells has saved some of his candy for Jonny too. We can all go together.”

Raven's Prize this month is ration credits; Sofia will be pleased. Then it’s free-time and she wanders off with Clarke and Wells.

Their visit doesn’t start well. Raven as the eldest and tallest knocked on the door of the Murphy’s tiny Factory Station apartment. No-one answered. “What do we do now?” It’s Wells, jigging up and down like he does when he wants to pee.

“We leave a note on their door tablet.” Says Clarke, looking around for the screen.

“No door tablets in Factory Clarke. Have you any paper?”

Clarke dives into her satchel and produces a small piece of rice paper and a pencil. She carefully prints and reads aloud. “Dear Jonny. So sorry” The tiny girl stops writing, at a loss for a moment. What should she say next. Wells continues to jig up and down, he’ll be useless for anything until he’s had a pee, so she looks at the older girl and whispers. “What shall I write?”

Raven takes the pencil from the unresisting hand and continues with “life sucks for you now. Here is some candy we hope it makes you feel better soon. Clarke, Wells (aged 10) and Raven (aged 12).” Clarke nods her agreement and starts to wrap the candy in the paper. “I’ll write his name on it?”

“Yeah”. Just before they leave from inside the apartment there’s yelling.

“S’all your fault, you useless boy. He’d never had done it without you and your shitty lungs. Get out! Out of my sight, get out, get out, get out!” 

The three children flatten themselves against the wall as the apartment door swings back and a boy, stick thin and hacking out a cough, flings himself out into the corridor. The door slams behind him hard. Wide-eyed he glares at the strangers standing outside his door.

“Hey Jonny.” Says Clarke.

Huge eyes, a bony jaw and snot running down his top lip is all Raven registers when the boy turns towards Clarke.

“Have my hanky.” The blonde girl holds out a crumpled handkerchief. The red eyes blink away tears and his lips twist into a grimace as uneven teeth worry at his lower lip. Slowly the boy takes in the three kids: Wells jigging, the blonde holding a scrap of cloth and the taller girl. He reaches out and snatches the handkerchief, wipes his snotty nose on it, then hands it back.

In the Rule of Heda Lexa. Year 3.  5th Moon. New Moon. Podakru – The Waters of Cleve  

As soon as Lexa dismounts from Snatcha Hellen and Anya are at her side.  After giving Lexa her oath Anya, taking Isla with her, moves to speak with Odd about how the fight is to be conducted and Bigas rides back to the army to tell Indra and Rush what is happening.  

Hellen takes Heda’s coat, sash, pauldron and the helm of awe when Lexa hands them to her, then she moves to stand in front of her Heda, back to the Kwin. She starts to ‘fiddle’ with Lexa’s gauntlets. Whispering, as she unties and re-ties them. “Her sword blade will be coated with hison; feisbona (wolf’s bane), hemlock or both. Her dagger is likely clean.  I will have Lincoln and Jules readying antidotes just in case. When young I performed with a troupe of acrobats and dancers. We visited Nia’s court many times and were allowed by the Azkwin to perform for her pleasure. Court gossip about the Kwin was plentiful and I saw her train many times.” The gauntlets are tightened and adjusted a little more.  “She favours her right knee when tired because as a goufa she fell from a horse and twisted it badly. She’s fast and strong, but her stamina and endurance are rarely tested.” 

Anya and Odd call forward some gonas to mark out the fighting arena. By now the news has spread, a solo gonplei instead of a battle. The Azkwin challenged and Heda accepted. The two armies ‘stand down’ and when the clanking and shuffling of relieved gonas comes to an end, all that can be heard is the occasional nickering of a restless horse and the gentle murmur of the river.

As the sun dips slowly towards the western hills Fleimkepa Julius walks to the centre of the sandy arena.

“Hashta soulou gonplei, bilaik won hedon noumou: du souda wan.” (In single combat, there is but one rule: Someone must die today.)

Lexa walks forward sword and dagger raised. Nia is unmoving, having challenged she now waits for Heda to come to her.  

When Anya trained Lexa for solo gonplei, something she did almost every day when Lexa was a seken because that form of combat was inevitable for a natblida, she would always say. “Before the first blow is struck, use your eyes to assess your enemy’s body, weapons and tombom (heart). Only then can you start to think about how you are going to kill them.”   

Nia’s stillness gives Lexa plenty of time to take in the weapons and stance of the Kwin. What she sees is a form of perfection, as Nia’s balance, poise and beauty are displayed to full advantage. The Azkwin stands, a statuesque example of how to correctly ready your weapons for the fight.

Through the fine leather of her gauntlets Lexa feels the ridges of her sword’s grip. It’s comforting to feel the familiar; the brass wire wound tightly into the leather that covers and softens the sturdy ash-wood. During the fight, her sword will become part of her body, moving at times on pure instinct. How she holds the sword will change; relaxed and flexible one moment, a hard and rigid hammer grip the next. All without thought, because what Lexa is thinking is many moves ahead of what her body is doing.

When their first exchange of blows makes their swords’ steel sing Lexa’s heart leaps in joy at the sweet bell-like chime of her blade. This blade, is the blade of her heart, designed and made for her, with love and skill, by Petrus kom Trikru.

Two Years Ago, Ton DC Forge.

“Heda. We must all bow to Keryon (the Spirits) who make us as we are. Tall, short or medium height. You have grown since I last made you a sword but your height is still less than four cubits, that sword is too long for you!”

“That may be so Petrus but many of the gonas I will fight will be taller than me. They already have greater reach, why would I give them even more advantage by using a sword that is shorter than theirs?”

The two had argued about it for marks, until a compromise was reached. The blade was shortened, very slightly, but Petrus then made some special adjustments. First, he balanced the sword at a point further from the hilt than usual. That gives Lexa more feeling for the blade and greater control over it, despite its’ length. Then he made a special cross-guard; one that had quillions that curved down towards the blade and incorporated a ‘finger guard’. Lexa could further stabilise the long blade by placing her forefinger on the unsharpened part of it, just beneath the hilt. Her finger is protected from being crushed or cut by the ‘finger guard’. It’s a very effective design and Lexa has him repeat it on a smaller scale for her long dagger.

In the Rule of Heda Lexa. Year 3.  5th Moon. New Moon. Podakru – The Waters of Cleve  

Sweat and blood drip into both fighter’s eyes. Nia’s initial stillness had changed within a heart’s beat to explosive energy, as the Azkwin unleashed her strength and power on the smaller plana. Chops, swings, cuts and thrusts were met with parries, blocks, feints and it’s a riposte that had Lexa’s sword tip, slicing a cut to the Kwin’s temple, that as Nia jumps back, removes the top of her left ear. The wounds bleed copiously for a while but have now slowed to a sluggish trickle.

Despite her wounds, the furious pace and aggression, including some choice verbal slurs, from the Kwin continued and she landed a glancing blow to the young Heda’s forehead with the crescent shaped pommel of her sword. A noticeable lump and a curved cut can be seen on the younger plana’s forehead.  Black blood drips into the kohl of her war paint.

At the edge of the arena sit Anya, Indra, Leto and Rush kom Delphikru; on the opposite side to them are the Kwin’s three advisors, Ontari and Hector. Lincoln, Isla, Jules and the two Selenes stand clustered behind Indra and Hellen squats by Anya’s feet. No-one speaks for a long while, all focus on the two combatants as the rhythm of the fight starts to change, with Lexa becoming the aggressor, pursuing the Kwin, forcing her more and more onto the back foot: Nia’s right foot.

For nearly a mark the two planas fight, the arena alive with the clangs and sparks from their blades, the cries and grunts of the fighters and the groans of those who watch.  The pace is still fast but it’s noticeable that their sword swings are shorter and more efficient, the footwork tighter and that the Kwin has fallen silent. The abuse and taunts that spewed from her mouth at the start of the bout are no more.

Nia knows she must regain control of this fight and its’ pace. To give herself room to regroup she makes a great leap backwards, on landing her feet slip on the loose sand. Her back hits the dirt, Lexa moves in for a killing blow but must jump back when a desperate slash from the Kwin’s sword threatens to slice her calf. She doesn’t want to kill the Kwin and then die of hison, she must live to; form her Kongeda, love Clarke, defeat the Maunon and give her natblidas a new future. Her abrupt retreat from the hisoned blade allows a relieved Nia to scramble to her feet; throwing a handful of sand into Lexa’s face gives her an extra moment to regain her footing.

The punishing blows, slices and blocks continue. Indra folds and unfolds her arms, chews her lips, snatches in a shallow breath. Then a discontented hiss escapes the Trikru Chief’s lips. She glares at Anya. “Her attacks are becoming predictable. Always going for the right knee. Didn’t you teach her better than that?”

“I taught her better than that. Sha.”

“Hmmph.”

Nia’s been waiting for any kind of error; an opportunity for a riposte, an opening, a sloppy block or a tired follow through, but so far it hasn’t come. Her opponent is an unrelenting force, pushing the Kwin to twist, turn and retreat.  

Eventually the two tired fighters fall into a pattern and Nia sees her way to victory. Yet again Lexa’s long dagger is snaking fast and low towards the inside of Nia’s right knee and up towards her groin. Many times this move has forced Nia to step back and twist because as the dagger stabs Lexa’s sword is swinging down with a punishing, if it landed, chop to Nia’s left shoulder. Lexa’s sword must be blocked by Nia’s dagger. Block the sword, spin and push her weight back and away from the danger.  Not this time! Nia steps forwards into Lexa’s space, then her whole-body sways to avoid the chop from Lexa’s sword, while her own sword, using her whole body’s momentum thrusts forwards into Lexa. Except she can’t move her sword. It’s trapped!  Lexa was ready for her and now Nia’s sword is borne down, trapped in the curled steel hilt of Lexa’s dagger and by the strength of her arm. The two struggle for some moments, Lexa bearing down, Nia thrusting forward. Their faces close enough to taste each other’s sweat.

Then Lexa bends both her knees, drops her chin and thrusts her whole body upwards with all the strength and power of her legs. The top of her head smashes into Nia’s jaw, the impact throwing the Kwin’s head up and back. For Nia the world suddenly goes black and it’s then that Lexa’s sword chops brutally into her neck and red blood sprays.

Anya turns to Indra. “I taught her that!”

Chapter Text

In the Rule of Heda Lexa. Year 3.  5th Moon. New Moon. Podakru – The Waters of Cleve  

Lexa pushes the dying Kwin away and walks backwards, to avoid blood splatter and to catch her breath.  

As Nia’s body falls, blood fountaining from her neck, Ontari and Hector launch themselves across the arena. The huge gona, moving fast for such a big hef (man), is soon on his knees at his Kwin’s side, gathering her into his muscled arms and keening in distress. “Ai Kwin, ai Kwin. Ai meizen Kwin! (My Queen, my Queen. My beautiful Queen!) Tears stream down his face, glistening as they follow the furrows of his facial scars and white war paint. Before anyone can stop him, he grasps Nia’s sword by its’ hisoned (poisoned) blade and slices it deep into the palms of both his hands.  The two Selenes, who had run forward to protect Heda Lexa from his ‘attack’ find themselves mere bystanders as the Azgaden Champion dies, in silent agony, curled protectively around the cooling body of his Kwin.

Ontari, runs straight past Nia and her distraught Champion; sword drawn she races towards where Lexa, who has walked some paces back from the body, stands with her bloody weapons raised in victory.  Isla and Jules sprint into the gada’s (girl’s) path and stand, swords ready to protect their Heda.

The enraged natblida attacks them. Screaming at Lexa. “Fight me bushada (coward), I have the right to fight you!” She is quickly overcome and bound, the two Handmaids taking great care not to let her cut them in case her blades, like Nia’s, are coated with hison.     

When the cheers, groans and general furore die down, Lexa, Anya and Leto kom Podakru walk towards where Odd, Frey and Pallas stand, quietly talking with Circe kom Sangedakru. Lexa’s head throbs, her clothes are soaked with her sweat and Nia’s blood, and her whole-body aches with tiredness but now she must show her strength as Heda and look ready, almost eager, for bloody battle. Her walk is almost a swagger, her sash and the helm of awe are back in place and although the blade at her side is sheathed the hilt shows bloody and her gauntleted hand rests lightly upon it. She is the picture of a bloody victor who is only too ready to get back on her horse and grind the Azgedan army into the mud of Cleve, just as she did with Kenton’s army of Boudalan.

The three advisors are clearly still shocked by Nia’s death. They look dazed, and without Nia to tell them what to do, directionless. Circe appears studiedly neutral. Lexa’s sure that inside the Sangedakru Chief is rejoicing.  As Lexa approaches, all of them turn to stare at the young gada who has just slain the Kwin kom Azgeda, then look worriedly towards the army of gonas waiting in the hills behind them. It’s Frey who takes the initiative, the youngest of the Advisors holds out his arm to Lexa. “It was a good fight and, in your victory, you gave ai Kwin a gona’s death. Her fight ended in an honourable challenge…………. Our place is now with our kru in Azgeda.  With your permission Heda, Chief Leto, we will make her pyre here tonight. Tomorrow we and the armies will leave to escort her ashes home to Toron and her heir Roan kom Azgeda.”

Lexa thinks Nia was entirely without honour, to fight with a blade coated with hison is not an honourable challenge, but her priority is to get Nia’s army out of Cleve.  She and Leto agree and wood is cut for a great pyre. A second much less impressive one is built for Hector. 

There’s no moon to bring any natural light to their solemn activities and the soft rain hisses to vapour in the flickering flames of the pyres and myriad torches. Lexa, now clean of the Kwin’s blood stands beside Odd as he lights the pyre and with him says “Yu gonplei ste oden. (Your fight is over).”  Anya’s spies mingle with the mourning gonas of Azgeda. They hear murmurs about how dark a day this is for Azgeda and that vengeance, against the gada who is Heda, would be sweet. But not all mourn the loss of Nia, others whisper about whether this Heda, who many say is kom Azgeda, will save them from the starvation, cruelty and dishonour they have suffered under Nia.   

Next day, before the Azgedan’s leave Lexa calls the three advisors to her tent to discuss Ontari’s future, which must be in Polis. Odd takes the lead this time and he claims to be shocked to discover that Ontari is a natblida and readily agrees that she must go to Polis. Lexa doesn’t believe his protestations of ignorance for a moment but she will let that go to get the Azgedans out of Cleve. Later in the day, when Circe kom Sangedakru bids her Heda a courteous farewell, she doesn’t pretend not to know Nia’s plans.

“Nia was obsessed with the gada. She said she found her with a family of az (ice) herders and that she bought Ontari from them to rescue her from slavery. She wanted to make her Azgeda’s greatest gona and the next Heda. But the gada was still a slave. She was Nia’s to do with as she pleased and every day she trained under the Kwin or Mulla’s merciless eyes. Look at her back to see the price she paid.”

In the Rule of Heda Lexa. Year 3.  8th Moon. First Quarter Moon. Polis Dungeons  

For a prison it’s light, airy and comfortable and the food is good. Every day she can train (not with real weapons) but the harsh truth is that she is confined and bored and her Kwin is dead. The one person who wanted and cared for her, who saw her greatness, is no more. The False Heda visits but refuses to fight her and because she has threatened to kill both the False Heda and all the other natblidas, (Ontari regrets that threat now but she lost her temper), she is not allowed her freedom. Three moons have passed and here is the False Heda, with some others, come to talk at her again.

This time it’s different some goufas are with her. The goufas are led by a young Fleimkepa into an open area. They carry cushions, slates and the Fleimkepa has a black board and easel that he sets up.

Lexa approaches Ontari’s cage. She stays far enough back to avoid the spittle Ontari has on occasion sent her way.  “Natblida Ontari. At your age it would be usual for a natblida to leave the Tower to become a seken but because you were hidden from the Fleimkepas you didn’t receive any of the teachings that natblidas get when they are youngons. Teachings that are meant to prepare them for going out into the world and for becoming Heda is that is their fate. You; cannot read or write gonasleng, draw or read maps. You know nothing of battle strategy, how to organise an army or the ways and history of our krus. You tell me that the Pillars of Heda are ‘weak nonsense’. It is my duty and that of Polis’ Fleimkepas to teach you what you need to know should you ever become Heda.” Lexa feels the mulishness arise within Ontari. The intention to learn nothing, be obstructive and disruptive can almost be seen radiating from the youngon like a dark cloud. So, Lexa tries carrot and stick.  “If you satisfy your teachers and me, that you have learnt what a future Heda must know you will be allowed to leave the Tower and a suitable Fos will be found.”   Ontari is listening, she looks at the three goufas who are settling on the floor by her cage. “The safety of all natblidas is my responsibility and until I believe that ai youngons Aden, Luce, Camilla and Tenson are safe with you, lessons will be here but outside your cage, while you remain within.”

Ontari flings herself at the bars, trying to get at the gada who killed her Kwin!

TIME JUMP 5 YEARS

In the Rule of Heda Lexa. Year 8.  7th Moon Full.  The Road from Polis to Ton DC

At Strik Selene’s signal Cal guides his team of oxen off the trackway and into an area predominantly populated by scruffy grass, old firepits and bare earth. His fellow drovers Kella and Vick follow his lead and the three big carts come to a stop close to the stones of an old fireplace and about thirty cubits away from the river.

The route from Polis to Ton DC is a busy one and travellers often use this clearing as a place to rest up. As the wagons come to a halt, the gonas, drovers and passengers quietly get on with their work. The gonas disperse to set a perimeter for their patrols; bandits and hostile gonakrus from Azgeda and Ouskejon (two krus who still refuse to join the Kongeda) are known to attack the unwary along this road. With the Kongeda growing in numbers and strength, great battles between krus are fewer but bandits and small raids never seem to stop entirely.   The drovers unhitch and tend to their oxen, while the passengers unload their kit.  Trikru has suffered a bad winter, followed by a wet spring and now, in the humid heat of summer, is when they can start to mend their roads. Some of the road crew erect tents, this will be their base for a few days, while others start to gather the broken bricks, stones and smashed concrete, that they’ll use to fill ruts. 

Strik Selene rides off into the forest, two gonas go with her, ostensibly for her protection. As they leave the clearing Strik talks of finding the ruins of big houses nearby that they can ‘rob’ for stone and rubble.  The two gonas follow her quietly. Soon the remains of what once was a large complex of buildings emerge from the thickets; slabs and chunks of dirty-white stone lie scattered on the ground or half buried within it. Loamy earth, leaf litter and tangles of brambles are everywhere and away from the noise of their companions the three become more aware of the sounds of the living wood; muted bird song, barking squirrels, running water. As they move on the trees close in, but then they ride into an open glade and within it a huge statue of a seated hef (man) looms, massy and greened. The horses are unsettled by such a colossus, nickering and stamping. It takes a few moments for them to calm. They’re at the meeting point, a little before the agreed time of midday.  Will he keep his word?  In silence they wait, alert to every movement or noise.

Like as one, three hands move to rest on sword hilts and in a few moments’, the sound of horses approaching can be heard and then they are here. Four riders, three with scarred faces. Slowly and with both hands visible on the reins they ride into the clearing and stop.

“Hei (Greetings) Haihefa (King) Roan, mochof (thank-you) for coming so far. Will you dismount and sit with us to talk?”  Roan nods and all dismount, hitching the horses to nearby trees. Lexa knows all four of the Azgadens. Roan scarred and looking as weary as only a leader can, when his kru are riven by dissent and discord.  Frey, who had been one of Nia’s advisors, Echo, Nia’s spy and Seiku, Roan’s bodyguard. 

Strik, Echo and Seiku stand to one side, eyeing each other with barely contained hostility, while the others move to sit on large rocks.

No introductions are needed, Lexa and Ontari are known to the Azgadens.

Mt Weather Emergency Operations Centre. Control Room. July 18^th 2146 CE

Cage swings restlessly in the creaking office chair. His attention switches between the multiple monochrome images on the wall in-front of him. The door to the control room opens and his father enters. There’s no fuss or recognition of the President’s arrival. Dante takes a seat next to Cage and waits.

“Give me more of the garden people.” Lomax fiddles with some switches and six of the nine screens blink out and three enlarge. Figures cross those screens, some look bulky with noticeable muscles, others are slender whip-like creatures, who move with grace as they fork up, pick or cut the various crops.

“What’s that they’re harvesting dad?”

Dante leans forward. “I think it’s rhubarb. We grow it some years. Not had it for a while, I must ask Rothko why it’s not been on the menu. Why’ve you asked me to look at this son? We know the savages can grow things, like we know stone age men did after the Ice Age.”

Cage swivels again, to look at his father this time. “They’ve started doing it on a bigger scale and it looks more organised. I don’t like it.”

Dante’s lips form a thoughtful moue. He turns back to the three screens. The plants look just like the crops grown in their own horticulture biomes; onions, cabbages, potatoes and some of the leaves being carefully laid in crude baskets are kale or spinach. He shrugs. “They need to eat; we know someone oversees these people. It’s that black woman with the tattoos, isn’t it? If she told me to do something I’d do it no questions asked.” The old man chortles, but then he’s serious. “If they’re healthy son, that’s better for our own harvest.”

Then he’s gone, the door closing quietly behind him. Back to his paintings no doubt. Cage sucks in a breath. “Emerson is this garden too far away for our ‘Dogs’ to attack it?

Carl Emerson moves forward. “Sir, at over thirty miles it’s at the limits of our surveillance. We can get drones out there, but we only get a few minutes operational time on site because the batteries we use are old and lack full capacity.  See Sir, we’ve lost screens one and two and three will go in a minute.  We’ve never sent Dogs out that far and if we did, our men controlling them would need to use trucks; to get the Dogs there, bring the savages back for harvesting and to carry extra oxygen tanks. I’m not sure the trucks could handle the terrain.” 

“Do the tree-cams work that far away?”

“No Sir.”

Cage stares at three blank screens. “Send a drone every week to check on this place and what they’re doing. I want a report every month on what the fuck that tattooed bitch is doing in her fucking garden! That’s all Emerson.”

“Yes Sir.”

July 18^th 2146 CE The Ark. Alpha Station.

Clarke is never going to drink anything other than tea or water again. Never, ever, ever – is she gonna do this head over the public toilet thing.  Her head spins and she can’t stop her stomach heaving, even though it’s empty and her whole chest and belly hurt. Disgusting yellow bile and stomach lining is all that’s coming out now. What the fuck was that stuff?  She flushes the toilet again and when it stops, she listens. Is this restroom far enough away from the party to be safe? She hopes so. Oh God, she hopes so.

“Clarkie!” It’s Raven, she of “PPI” aka Party Planners Incognito. “Are you okay? I’m gonna fix that Lucy for good. She may be Jasper’s friend but you kids are too young for that shit she sells and she’s much too old for your tender heart princess.”

Clarke makes a sad little sound that isn’t quite a groan and Raven’s there, using her pocket multitool to open the cubicle’s lock and access the sad heap of humanity that is Clarke Griffin.  “We gotta go Clarke, the Guard are putting a bit more effort into finding the party this time and are heading this way. Fuck you’re a mess, can you even stand up?”

Clarke wobbles to standing, annoyance fuelling her efforts. It’s so irritating when Wells is right, he said Lucy was not to be trusted and he was right, the b… know it all. As that non-startling discovery makes its’ way into her brain the main door to the restroom opens and Grace Byrne strides in. Raven throws her arms around Clarke trying to support her jelly legged friend.

Grace takes in the picture of the two girls in one cubicle, arms tightly wrapped around each other. The younger blonde head is tucked under the neck of the older brunette. “Come on you two, Clarke your parents would have a fit thinking of you making out in a public restroom and Raven you should know better.”

Clarke wants to protest that it isn’t like that, but opening her mouth would only encourage her stomach to do more terrible things so she just pretends to be shy and turns her face into Raven’s shoulder.

“She’s upset Lieutenant, some older girl’s been playing her along and then tonight she just ignored her. You remember young love, don’t you?” Byrne’s eyes almost do the full 360.

“Where did this shattering even take place Raven? Not at an illegal party I hope, FFS she’s only fifteen!”

“Choir Lieutenant, we were rehearsing for the choir. You know what the choir is.”

Grace purses her lips. One thing Raven says is true, the Ark Choir, consisting of one hundred plus people who gather weekly to sing under Callie Cartwig’s direction, is like one big dating club. You can’t walk into a restroom located close to where the choir is rehearsing without finding some couple fucking in a cubicle or if you’re lucky they’re just making out.  

“Just be thankful I’m off duty tonight and can’t be arsed to check out your story. FFS get her home Raven and yes, I know this place is a shithole, but you’re seventeen now and soon you risk … well you know what I mean.” Byrne slams out of the restroom and Raven, unable to keep holding the drooping girl up, allows Clarke to fold gracelessly into a heap at her feet.

“I don’t feel well Rae.” Clarke turns into the cubicle again. It’s going to be a long night; but the two of them have been lucky. Byrne’s a human being and will give them the benefit of the doubt but other members of the Guard have it in for Factory Grunts like Murphy, or Mecha Monkeys like Raven and Jasper; and Nygel, chief fixer and criminal boss of the Ark, doesn’t like the competition from Raven and Jonny’s little enterprise, PPI.

What seems like hours later she hustles a still unsteady Clarke out of the restroom.  Raven vows to herself that she’s going to stop the PPI thing. She’s nearly eighteen and no way is she going to be floated just because she hosts parties. Illegal parties of course, illegal because they have booze, dancing and some of the softer recreational drugs. Though looking at Clarke she’s not so sure that the ban on hard drugs is working. She’s going to fuck Lucy Edwards over somehow; that girl is one heartless bitch.

Three hours later. Ark Holding Cells. Alpha Station

Murphy’s scared shitless but no way will he show it. His cell has one piece of furniture, a metal bench welded to the wall, he sits his bony ass down on it and glares. If anyone’s watching him, and someone will be, all they’re gonna get from this fifteen-year-old is a hard stare. In the next cell he can hear Jasper Jordan crying like a baby and Monty Green sits in the third, looking so pale and still, that Murphy’s not sure the boy’s even breathing.

It's a fuck up, a total fuck up. He’s gonna kill whoever sold them out, cos’ someone did. He and Raven run a smooth and safe party business. Their security is the best, Raven is a top-notch hacker and Monty codes like it’s breathing. As far as the Ark authorities are concerned, their parties are invisible. The only way the Guard found them, is a tip-off.  He glares harder at the grey wall.  At least Raven, Clarke and Finn were gone by the time the Guards piled in. Finn had arrived late to a party that was already swinging, sulked for a while, then left. He was too pissed off to stay and watch Lucy Edwards give Clarke’s tonsils a thorough cleaning and then feed the young blonde, fuck knows what, from that flask she always carries. Finn’s an idiot but he’s always seen Lucy for what she is, a predator. Then Clarke started to feel ill and Lucy dropped her like a hot potato. That didn’t go down well with the blonde and Raven went after Clarke when she staggered off. He’d kept the music pumping and booze flowing for another hour then all hell broke loose.

With a juddering clatter the cell block’s main door slides open and four big men walk in. Murphy knows them all. Councillor Pike, Commander of the Guard Lister, Lieutenants Gru and Logan. Oh fuck, he really drew the short straw tonight.

“Stand up, when your betters enter the room.” That’s Pike. What an asshole. Murphy doesn’t deign to notice him. He stays put, staring at the wall. He hears Jasper and Monty scramble to their feet. Gru and Logan march into his cell, drag him off the bench and haul him into an interview room. His face collides with a couple of fists before he’s dropped into a chair. Facing him across the desk is Charles Pike, Councillor and asshole.  

“You’re heading to the Sky Box Murphy. You can better your chances of being considered a valuable citizen on your 18^th birthday if you cooperate now.” Murphy recognises bullshit when he hears it and throughout the next hour’s interrogation and beating, he says not one word.  He’s no snitch. Much later he discovers that Monty and Jasper likewise said nothing, his respect for them increased tenfold, he’d have laid odds that the pair would sing like birds.

In the Rule of Heda Lexa. Year 8.  7th Moon Full.  The Statue of Lincoln Ton DC

Lexa watches the two hefs carefully.

“Roan; for twelve moons I have kept my side of our bargain. Trikru do not raid the settlements of your southeast territories. Podakru keep your rival Odd busy in the southwest with raids on villages loyal to him and they’ve sunk many of his canoes as they travel the Great Creek to Ouskejon. Boudalan stay out of the conflict but refuse to trade with Odd, while they supply you with ores at a fair price and I have waived the Kongeda tariffs on those dealings. You have made progress against Odd, the latest rumour is that he has fled to the far north. Now it is for you to prove your good faith to me, before we talk more of Azgeda joining the Kongeda.”

Roan does not look comfortable; he does not look confident that he can deliver what was promised. He takes a breath but before he speaks Frey touches his arm and silently requests permission to speak. Roan nods.

“That ai Haihefa (my King) is a man of honour and good faith I have proof of. I will go and bring that proof if I have your permission Heda to bring one more of ai kru here.”

Lexa doesn’t like this proposed increase in the number of Azgadens present. The agreement was for four. She’s confident she, Strik and Ontari could take them but another gona could swing the fight in Roan’s favour. She starts to shake her head but Frey, seeing she is about to say no anticipates.

“Heda, Echo can tell you who he is and why he means you and gona Ontari no harm.”  

Lexa considers; so many things ride on this meeting.  Azgeda could join the Kongeda without another battle and even though it is an Azgeda riven with internal problems it will boost the Kongeda.  Plus, if Azgeda joins, Ouskejon can only follow.

“We will listen to your spy.”

Frey rises, his manner more relaxed. After a few words with Echo, he goes to his horse and unbuckles his saddlebags, he and Echo then return to stand by Roan.

Roan resumes control. “Echo, ridiyo op (speak true) to Heda about gona Ontari. How ai nomon (my mother) discovered her and brought her to Toron and of the proof we have.”

The Azgedan spy stands straight and addresses the two planas. “Ai laik Echo kom Azgeda. I was a spy for Haiplana Nia kom Azgeda for many summers, ever since I was a youngon. I speak first of the Spring following Heda Lexa’s ascension. Kwin Nia left Polis after the ascension ceremonies and returned to Toron. From there she sent agents out over the whole of Azgeda to look for natblidas (black bloods). A report came in about a gada (girl) who lived with the az herders and I was sent to discover if the report was true.”  Echo pauses when Frey clears his throat.

“Heda, all in the Azgedan court knew that Kwin Nia searched for natblidas. That she found one was a secret.”

Frey has never admitted that he was aware Ontari was a natblida.  Lexa is still sceptical as to how one of the Kwin’s closest advisors did not know.  She prompts. “Continue your story, Echo.”

“The report was true. One of the many strik-krus (small clans) who follow the great herds of caribou in the north-west had a goufa who was a natblida. They tried to keep her nat- jus (black-blood) secret but it became known. This gada was you gona Ontari. I reported back to the Kwin and we travelled with the Kwin’s own gonakru to meet with the herders in their summer camp.”  Echo stands even straighter and eyes Ontari warily. “Kwin Nia demanded the gada be given up by her nomon and nontu. She said that she must be taken to Polis. They protested and the Kwin then said she would buy the gada for one hundred wolf skins and fifty iron spear heads. They refused to sell her.”

Lexa steals a glance at Ontari as she hears her companion take a sharp breath. Her fellow natblida looks strained but in control of her volatile temper.  Echo had paused when Lexa looked away and only continues her tale when Heda’s attention returns to her. “That night I was sent by the Kwin to steal the gada. I was to drug her with a dart dosed with Mulla’s sleeping hison, then wait for the Kwin’s gonakru to attack the camp. The attack would distract the herders and I could carry the sleeping goufa off.” It’s Echo’s turn to steal a glance towards the planas and then Frey. “Moba (Sorry) Heda, gona Ontari, my words will be hard to hear. I stole the sleeping gada when the Kwin and her gonas attacked full force. I did not think any of the herders survived, but I was wrong.”  The last words tumble out in a panic as Ontari leaps to her feet dagger drawn. Lexa restrains her and whispers.

“’Tari hod op (hold / stop) we need her alive. Or you will never know.”

“Moba Heda.” Ontari sits back down and sheathes her dagger.

 “You were wrong?”  Lexa encourages the spy to continue.

“Sha Heda. That is who we want to bring to you. The nontu kom Ontari! He is …”

Ontari can’t hold back any more she’s on her feet again. “Lies, lies! They sold me to her for skins. They didn’t want me. I was just trouble to them, they never…. They never!”

Echo steps back and it’s Frey who drops to his knees and gently lays in front of the barely contained Ontari two parcels. Startled by his strange actions she looks down. “Chit? (What?)”

“Beja (Please) gona Ontari. Open them and tell me, were these made for a goufa who was unwanted?”

Ontari turns, white-faced to Lexa. “Beja ai Heda!”

Lexa nods and carefully bends down to open the first package. Inside is a set of clothes, suitable for a small child aged maybe 4 or 5 summers. In style they are of the az herders, in craftsmanship and beauty they are outstanding. The little parka is made of sealskin, the fur lining is probably the softest thing Lexa has ever touched. Beading adorns the edges of the hood and sleeves. Red ribbon is stitched to the seams of the little trousers and exquisite geometric beading decorates the tiny belt. Ontari stares and stares, then drops to her knees to touch the suit.

Lexa looks up to Roan and Frey. “Bring him, but weapons are to be surrendered.”

Roan nods, barks an order at his companions who place their weapons on the ground. Frey leaves them. Roan takes Echo’s arm. “We will wait with Seiku while you look at what we brought you.”

Lexa watches the gada she has come to think of as a strik sis (little sister) run her calloused fingers over the little suit. Stroking the soft fur, turning the trousers inside out and examining the hem of the parka with intense fascination. She turns to Lexa, the parka in her hand. “I, I do remember this! I remember….  See, I tore the stitching in temper.” Ontari blushes, she still has that temper as they both know. “Nomi (mummy) said I was so strong because it was stitched with the strongest sinew, but that I was not to do it again.”  

“Open the second one ‘Tari.” Lexa stands back as Ontari opens the second package, her trembling fingers struggle with the knots. Within is a collection of miniature tools and weapons; a dagger, a harpoon (made of bone or ivory Lexa cannot tell), a delicate fishing net and some bone fishhooks. Both larger items are exquisitely decorated with figures of fish, caribou and there’s even an az bear carved into the handle of the dagger.

It takes some time for Frey to return, while he is away Ontari examines minutely each item of clothing and weaponry and Lexa takes Roan aside and the two talk of Azgeda, while the spy and bodyguards look on.

When he does come back Frey is leading a hef; gaunt, bowed and whitehaired. He is dressed in what Lexa now recognises as az herder type clothing. A parka made of caribou and sealskin and likewise the trousers. What is immediately obvious is that the hef is blind; he walks behind Frey, his right hand on the younger hef’s shoulder and his eyes are gone. Beneath his broad brow is a mass of scar tissue that covers most of his face including his nose. His mouth is a jagged hole. Together they walk to the foot of the statue. Frey speaks quietly and his companion falls to his knees. Sounds come from the torn mouth, Lexa can just make out the words “Heda….. Haihefa…. Goufa.”

Frey addresses the gaping Ontari. “Few lived after the Kwin’s gonas had burned the camp. Falk was one of three survivors found by another group of herders a few days later. He can speak but it takes time to understand him and until recently no-one wanted to listen to who he was or what had happened to him. I know his story if you want to hear it.”

Ontari looks at the older hef, his face is unrecognisable but his right hand; the thumb of that right hand is missing its’ top joint and what remains of the digit is slack and useless. She remembers, but what? A big man, roaring with laughter, no with pain. Pain and laughter?

Her mind reels, everything before Nia is uncertain, clouded and what she does remember is disjointed. But this accident ---does she remember? A seal had stolen his fish and noni (daddy) was angry, so angry with that seal! He’d made a great story of it when he came home with his hand wrapped and dragging that huge seal, but no fish! About how he had roared in rage at the theft and hauled, the line, fish and harpooned seal, out of the freezing water and onto the ice. In his rage he’d clubbed the seal to death and only then, when everything became still and quiet, had he noticed the pain in his hand. His own fishing line had cut through the skin, muscle and sinew of his thumb when he had hauled the great seal onto the ice.   

She can’t breathe, her chest constricts, her throat is dry and rasping. She looks to Lexa her Heda, who had been her fos, her sis kom jus (sister of the blood), the person who, knowing that Ontari needed it, searched for this final truth. A truth and a past that Ontari lost when Nia stole her away but which over the past summers had started to return in her dreams and she didn’t know what to believe. Nia, the Kwin, her life, the one person Ontari had believed had wanted and cared for her, who saw her greatness and groomed her for it through training in: weapons, cruelty, power and glory. The Kwin had lied, not just about Heda and Azgeda but about everything and Ontari had believed her; believed her for so long.

Now as she looks at this hef …… who she remembers? She feels ashamed, she lost her true self, forgot her past and somehow became the monster Nia wanted her to be.  She didn’t run or resist, instead she became skilled at killing and causing pain, took the gifts and acclaim that came with being the ‘pet’ of the Kwin.  Loved the praise heaped on her when she pleased Nia and bore the cuts, lashes and burns when she did not.   More shame floods into her heart when she remembers how she tried so hard to remain true to Nia. How she clung for years to the lies.

As she takes slow steps towards the broken hef who is her nontu, she thinks back to her first few moons in Polis, when she hated Heda Lexa, hated the goufas with jus like hers, hated the Fleimkepas who came to gawk at her and tell her how Kwin Nia was a blasphemer. Hated the planas who brought her food and clothing and the fisas who tended to her self-inflicted wounds, because most of all she hated herself. The gada who had failed a Kwin.

Chapter Text

October 1^st 2147 CE.  The Ark. Alpha Station Common Room.  Unity Day Celebration

“Long ago, when the Earth was on fire, 12 stations floated through space, all alone. Then one day, Mir floated by Shenzhen, and they realised life would be better together. The other stations saw this, and they wanted to be together too. When all the other stations were joined, they called themselves……” The child’s rendition ends abruptly as klaxons blare, the ceiling lights blink and panic starts to flicker through a crowd that moments before was savouring the one lawful party / pageant of the year.

Earlier in the day the newly elected Chancellor spared a few minutes from his busy schedule to give his first Unity Day Speech. Standing on a raised dais, in a sharp newly fashioned suit, he promised that he would be responsible going forward for laws that are just and proportionate and these laws would be enforced fairly and without favour. His final words were “Friends and comrades in recent years we have lived through hardships and it is my fervent hope that ‘The War on Waste’ is a policy I can soon confine to the history books. However, that will take some time and until then please respect and obey our laws, maintain peace and unity; and have a great party!”

It was a couple of hours later that the solar flare hit. The alert sounds and Commander of the Guard Terrance Shumway, (Diana Sydney’s last act as Chancellor was to appoint him Commander after Lister was accidentally ‘floated’ through a malfunctioning airlock) is on the radio within seconds to order, Grace and the two units of Guards already at the Unity Day Pageant, to run ID checks. “I’ll be there to supervise within five minutes.” He clicks the radio off without waiting for an answer.

It’s routine; a solar flare means possible system failures, means people could die, machinery malfunction blah, blah, blah. Clarke and Wells wait in line, chatting. “Wells if you visit Jonny. Damn I must remember to call him Murphy. Murphy and Jasper, Raven can visit Finn, I’ll see if Charlotte can see visitors yet and, if his mom isn’t around, I’ll visit with Monty.” Her blonde head shakes in frustration. “It’s so fucked up Wells, all Charlotte did was kick a Guardsman on the shin when they arrested her mom and dad. I’ll try and talk to Callie and my mom about her. Your dad says he’s all for just and proportionate laws, but Wells how can he let a ten-year-old orphan be put in the Sky Box?” Wells sighs and looks down. Not even Clarke, whose dad Jake is his dad’s best friend, really sees what’s going on. She knows that since his mom died his dad’s been very focused on becoming the Chancellor and running the Ark. What she doesn’t know is that, without his mother’s influence, his dad’s thinking has become rigid, almost unfeeling and that the Chancellorship is like an obsession; the drive to be elected has been replaced with a kind of paranoid mania, that sees almost everyone as a potential rival for the office and beneath the gentle bonhomie is the fixed belief that he must remain as Chancellor, to keep Diana Sydney out and prepare for Wells to take over his ‘legacy’, at some point in the future. So sadly, Wells is unsurprised that his dad allows a ten-year-old to be put into the Sky Box, he seems to have lost sight of the need to care for the people he rules over.  They continue to chat as they get closer to the front of the line.

Behind the mask donned for this year’s pageant and party Bellamy’s sweating, how the fuck can he get Octavia out of here when she has no ID. He swings away from the exit overseen by Major Byrne, she’s too fucking good at her job. “Stick with me O I can see Gru by the mess hall door, he’ll let us through.” He feels sweat making their hands slippery as they struggle to move through the crowd; he pulls off his mask. 

As they approach the doorway Bellamy sees Commander Shumway step up behind Gru, he snaps out his taser and tries to pull Octavia away. Too late. Fuck! 

Shumway steps in front of the two youngsters. “Cadet Blake. Why is your weapon out? Mask off!” He snaps the last words to Octavia.

“Uh, sir, she’s ….. she’s fine. I already scanned her.”

The Commander looks at the boy a little more carefully. “You don’t have a scanner, Blake.” He turns back to Octavia. “ID please.”

“No, please. Commander, I’m begging you, she needs to leave. As a fellow Guardsman…just let us walk out of here and I’ll do anything you want. Anything.”

Shumway’s manner turns chilly. “You’re not a Guardsman yet, Cadet. ID now.” 

It’s Wells who notices the disturbance first. Shumway’s shouting at some girl and a cadet, he’s getting out his baton. “What the heck!” he whisper-shouts and Clarke’s attention switches to the action at the doorway. A young girl is being dragged away and the boy with her is pushed to the wall, his hands cuffed behind him. 

“She’s not got any ID!” says the woman in-front, her voice cracking with amazement. “How can that be?” The man with her shrugs, not really caring. He flips out his own ID when Inspector Gru holds out the scanner.

Next day a distraught Clarke paces around their small lounge area, arms folded tightly, her head shaking in disbelief as Callie explains that Charlotte must remain in the Sky Box. “Her hearing was yesterday Clarke and release was denied. There’s no right of appeal. I agree it’s wrong but for some reason the panel said no.” Abby, sits beside her best friend, her head bowed.

“Clarke we’ve all tried. Your father, Callie, me. I even heard Wells arguing with Thelonious but he’s not moving from ‘it was an act of violence against a Guard’ and ‘if she’d been an adult she’d be floated’.”

Clarke’s hands rise in a gesture of helplessness, “and what about when she, or Jasper, or Monty, or Jonny, or Finn are eighteen? We all know how many are floated on their eighteenth birthday.”

Abby takes her head out of her hands. “We will speak for them then Clarke. I promise.”

“Even for Jonny?”

“Yes, even for Jonny.” Abby has a soft spot for the snarky teen who was orphaned so young.

Clarke’s still tearful when she leaves the apartment to meet up with Raven and Wells. She just manages not to slam the door on her way out. The two adults sit slumped for a few moments after she’s left. “It wasn’t meant to be like this Abby … I don’t know who Thelonious is anymore, or what he wants other than to control everything and everyone. Yesterday a girl was put into the Sky Box because she’s a second child. Put in prison because she was born! The mother was floated, that’s horrible but the one child rule has been law for nearly twenty years now and was brought in for good reasons. The first child, a boy, got away with losing his cadetship in the Guard. He’s a janitor now, but the girl, the one truly innocent party, is put in the Sky Box and what Clarke said is true, floating at eighteen is the norm for those kids. I looked at the stats yesterday, seventy percent are “deemed not to be useful to our society” and floated. It’s not right.”

Callie stands and she starts pacing, unconsciously mimicking Clarke. Abby looks up at her oldest friend before slowly running her hands through her hair.  She feels responsible for what’s happening, for what’s going wrong. She’s on the Council and like Callie worked hard to get Thelonious Jaha elected as Chancellor. Her words reflect her growing despair.  “The thing is Kane’s just as bad and Fuji, Pike, Cole and Kaplan just look after their own sectors. On things like crime, they follow whoever’s Chancellor. I joined the Council three years ago and not once have they voted against, or even questioned, a Chancellor on laws or security. The whole system is almost a dictatorship and is failing the people we’re meant to be looking after. What can we do?”

Callie turns on her heel. “We need to find like-minded people Abby. We need to organise and get this corrupt system changed.”  

In the Rule of Heda Lexa. Year 8.  12th Moon Waxing Gibbous.  Polis Docks

It’s good to get out of the Tower, away from squabbling bandronas (ambassadors) and endless meetings about trade, the Maunon and bad weather. The breeze is salty and fresh, blowing in from grey skies and dull thickly rolling seas, but Lexa’s, good fur boots, leather coat and red sash of office, keep her warm while she stands watching Barb, show off her latest machines. The first is something that she and her friends have been working on for many summers and Lexa watches in awe as nets full of cargo are swung from the hold of a docked merchant ship and placed gently onto waiting carts using hoists powered only by carefully secured counterweights.  And that’s not all, Barb and her colleagues have put the metal wheels, brakes and gearing salvaged from the great tunnel at Arl’ton to good use in constructing a massive lift that can raise or lower whole cartloads of coal or ore, using only the power of their own weight. Lexa congratulates her former Handmaid and is introduced to the four blacksmiths and two carpenters who have worked with Barb on this amazing apparatus. Heda’s small smiles are accompanied by her praise, thanks and gifts to show her appreciation for their work. 

Barb walks back with her to the Tower, two Handmaids follow. This morning has been another example of Polis’ traders and crafters making things better for her people. Lexa is so proud of them; proud of Barb, the carpenters, the blacksmiths, all of them who are starting to make Polis a great city. In the NT (New Times) she is aware of her city growing and developing so much faster than in the OT (Old Times). She’s not sure how Titus stifled her people but somehow in the NT imagination, creativity, industry and effort has blossomed and this inspires her to work even harder for their benefit.

Over the years as the Kongeda (Coalition) grew to twelve krus Polis attracted more and more people. With the increase in population the city became more raucous and, in the summers, it stank! Lexa and Anya decided that they needed to organise it in a more formal way, but doing this became a never-ending drain on their time. There was always another meeting to go to about the state of Polis; its’ roads, sewage, crime, disposal of waste, whether the city should have zones devoted to industry or private homes? The two of them realised that they needed help. Fortunately, it was nearby. The growth of the Kongeda and Nia’s death meant fewer assassination attempts, Lexa had ten Handmaids, all of them capable planas (women) and most of mature years. She and Anya (the latter reluctantly) agreed that two could be released from their duties guarding her, to look after Polis. Barb was an obvious choice for dealing with practical matters as she was already involved with Polis and its’ crafters. Eva, who had been seriously wounded before the battle of Cleve, had already approached Anya with an idea for a specialist group of agents drawn from Polis’ community of artists and performers. A talented musician, well known in the city’s bars and various places of entertainment, Eva knows much about the seamier side of Polis and with Anya and Heda’s support, she is creating a network that keeps her informed of everything that happens in the growing metropolis.  Together Eva and Barb run Polis; Polis thrives and Lexa and Anya can concentrate on the Kongeda and the Maunon (Mountain men).

The lift takes them to floor thirty and together they walk into the Red Room where Lexa’s Inner Circle of advisors wait for them. The great Festival of Mid-Winter brings Chiefs, bandronas, bodyguards, traders and hunters into the city as it celebrates Keryon (the Spirits) and that the days are starting to lengthen. At Mid-Winter Anya and even Titus, would say “we need a big festival, with plenty of food, drink and dancing to see us over the coldest part of winter that is still to come.” It is one of the best times of year to discreetly gather those, from all over the Kongeda, who are closest to her.

As the door opens twelve people stand and bow to their Heda. The two newcomers walk in and Lexa removes her coat and rearranges her sash as she bids them to sit and continue their talk. Noone does speak, as they shuffle to sit, a little uncomfortable with the informality. Rubbing her hands to warm them Lexa sits on her ‘smallest’ throne. As soon as she is seated, Skaikrasha serves hot tea to everyone before, with a nod and a smile to Heda, she leaves, closing the door firmly behind her. Isla and Blair stand guard outside.

On Lexa’s immediate right sit; Anya, Indra, Gustus and Ontari. These are her greatest gonas, who she trusts to win her battles. All of them have seen conflict and war; even the youngest, natblida (black-blood) Ontari, has led gonas in the field. She earned her rank of Captain when her own captain Quint kom Trikru was knocked unconscious almost as soon as battle started and she stepped up to take his place commanding Heda’s right flank in the great battle against Yujleda at Fallow-Field. Yujleda’s chief Albion had insisted on retaining the right to tax all goods and services coming into his kru and that had caused hardship in Sangedakru and Trishanakru. Both those krus joined the Kongeda in Year 6 of Heda Lexa’s reign and despite negotiations extending for many moons Albion rejected all terms. Lexa had thought long and hard about going to war over taxes but her duty to her krus meant that the plentiful food grown in Yujleda was needed (tax free) for those of her krus whose lands were badly affected by radiation or inclement weather. So, she went to war and for all that Boudalan’s former chief Kenton despised those of Yujleda as ‘fat farmers’, those farmers fielded thousands of gonas who were fit, well fed and ready to die for their greedy Chief. It was a hard battle and Ontari had fought well, even Indra said so! Defeated Yujleda joined the Kongeda the following year. Albion took the brand and appointed as his bandrona a plana called Sloop. Sloop is small, round and wears very brightly coloured tent-like tunics. She appears almost sleepy in her demeanour but when trade is discussed her knowledge is encyclopaedic, her memory prodigious and her ability to procrastinate is infuriating. Lexa has on more than one occasion considered kicking her off her balcony!

On Lexa’s left are Luna, Windsong and Leto. These three chiefs are at the heart of the growing network of trade, on both land and sea, that is improving how many people live on the ground.

Opposite her on the fourth side of the table are Titus, Nyko, Skaisora, Barb and Eva. Titus’s focus is the natblidas. There are five now living in the Tower. Aden kom Trikru 11, Luce kom Delphikru 10, Tenson kom Podakru 8, Camilla kom Louwoda Kilron 9 and the newest, recently found on search by Titus himself is Buffalo-Flower kom Ingranronakru 3. He also runs three schools in Polis that teach:  gonasleng (spoken and written), geography and basic mathematics. He looks, Lexa can see, exhausted. She must talk with him about getting more people to help him. Nyko who sits to Titus’ left runs Polis’ hospital and fisa (healer) school. He doesn’t look quite as exhausted as Titus, probably because Luna, who informally apprenticed herself to him for the last few years (ever since Floukru joined the Kongeda and Luna and her two goufas moved to Polis) is helping him when she can.  Skaisora kom Louwoda Kilron is responsible for Heda’s Tower and her experience is greatly valued.

With a nod from his Heda Gustus stands and starts to give his report on the war against the Maunon. He unrolls a large calfskin, drawn on the creamy-smooth interior is a map.

“Heda, if I may start with the tunnels?” Lexa nods again. “One of the great tunnels from before Priamfaya is now cleared and useable. It is in two sections. The first runs from the centre of Ton DC to Arl’ton. The entrance in Ton DC is by a small stairway inside Peter’s barn, there are one hundred and fifty steps to reach the ‘platform’ Heda. From that platform it runs for three leagues to Arl’ton. At Arl’ton a second entrance is hidden from sight by the big shed that we built on the inside of the garden’s wall. Four gonas abreast can walk down the slope into the tunnel below and onto the platform; horses can be led down the slope but some spook badly when they are taken below ground. From that platform, called before Priamfaya Ballston, the second section runs for twenty-five leagues to a place once called Rosslyn, we Trikru know it as the abandoned village of Osser Heda. Osser was small but prosperous for many summers but it was close to the Maunde, just beyond the reach of their Acid Fog, and when the Ripas started to steal our people Osser was always the first to be raided.  As you ordered Heda we have not opened the entrance at Osser and have made sure that there is no sign, that can be seen or heard, of the tunnel below the surface.”  

“Mochof Gustus, give us all a few moments to think about your words. Beja, sit.” Gustus sits. Indra gives him a quick look of approval.

“Does anyone have questions about the tunnels?” Lexa studies the map as she waits.

Ontari sits back into her chair. “How quickly can the entrance at Osser be opened? If it takes many days the Maunon will have time to attack us before we reach the ground.”  

Gustus acknowledges the wisdom of the question. “It could be done in a night Captain Ontari.” Ontari smiles. That’s a good answer.

Leto leans forward to look at the map. “How far is the end of the tunnel from the land we have lost to Acid Fog?” 

“Less than one league Chief Leto.” The Podakru chief gives a quick smile. They will be able to get many gonas close to the Maunde.

Luna speaks next. “Could we extend the tunnel to run under the land cursed by Acid Fog?”

Inwardly Lexa smiles. Luna has asked the question she wants this group to consider. Gustus has his replies ready. “So far, our work has been to clear away the dirt and fallen rocks from a tunnel that was made before Priamfaya. That tunnel ends at Osser. I have spoken with Heda about making the tunnel longer. There are old mines beneath the Maunde (mountain), perhaps we could join our tunnel to them?  Or dig our way almost to, or even under, the great metal door of the Maunde itself.  Kenton, he who was once chief of Boudalan, says that the rock there is called sandstone and that with good tools and many helpers he can cut a small tunnel through it. It would take over a year to get as far as the base of the Maunde. As to making a tunnel to meet the mines, the problem he says is accuracy of direction. It is very difficult to make one tunnel meet another exactly. Then as we know the mines are home to Ripas.”

Discussion is lively. Digging tunnels is hard and skilled work, that’s why Lexa put so much effort into persuading Leto to let Kenton live after the battle of Cleve. He was a poor chief of his kru, but the best miner they have ever had and over the past few years, when he has in punishment served as a bondsman of Heda, he has saved many lives through his knowledge and skills.

The next report is from Indra, she will explain how she and other krus are preparing for war with the Maunon above ground.

“Heda, I have finalised a list of the villages that are to be relocated. I have had assistance from all krus that border the Maunde.”

She reads out long lists of villages from Trikru, Azgeda, Ouskejon and Boudalan.

“If these villages are moved the Maunon will have no ‘prey’ for their Ripas for over thirty leagues in any direction. Heda, I know this is a strategy you have considered carefully but the burden such action will have on your people will be great.”  

“The plan is for the relocations to last less than a year Indra and we will have at least two harvests, this coming summer and the next to help us prepare. Also, Yujleda are prepared to increase their harvests, Arl’ton’s production is improving and Barb is planning new storage barns for Polis. There will be some losses, there is a price to be paid for defeating the Maunon.”

Indra’s next report is lighter in tone. As part of the cover for crowds of people gathering near Arl’ton Heda is to sponsor an annual futbal (soccer) tournament. Teams from all over the Kongeda will compete for honour and a substantial prize. The presence of more than twenty-four football teams, their followers and supporters will be a large colourful event that Lexa hopes will, if observed by the Maunon, be seen to be a harmless sporting event and distract them from their true activities around Arl’ton.

“Are we agreed that I will put to the bandronas a plan that will see us fight the Maunon face to face in the summer of the tenth year of my reign?”

“Sha, Heda!”

May 21^st, 2148, CE.  The Ark. Ark Guard Offices

As he sits and waits Kane flexes and twists, his old leather jacket feels tight on the shoulders; it was his father’s and James Kane was slighter in build than his son, who works out in the Ark’s gym almost daily. Then again maybe the discomfort is just nerves. This meeting called by the Chancellor is unorthodox and Marcus Kane doesn’t do ‘unorthodox’. Marcus Kane follows the rules, the rules that will save humanity, until such time as the ground is ready to host them again.

The door slides open; the Chancellor followed closely by Commander Shumway barrels in. Kane rises to offer his seat, a very worn office chair, to his boss. Thelonious Jaha takes it and looks sharply at the two men that he almost trusts. “Commander, fill Kane in on the latest intel.”  

The Commander opens several windows on the big touchscreen. Familiar faces, young and old are displayed.

“We’ve not got names for all the leaders and hard evidence of treason or sabotage is not available. Not yet. But now we know where to look, it won’t take me long.”  Cocky thinks Kane, very cocky for a man without evidence.

“Callie Cartwig and Abby Griffin are involved somehow. Jake is likely in on it too. The doctor’s daughter Clarke is a firebrand and has too many unsavoury friends. I have someone close to her, keeping me informed of her movements and if she says anything untoward, she’ll be in the Sky Box before she blinks. Your son Chancellor is in her company every day, you may want to guide him …”

“Leave my son to me Shumway.” Says Jaha, clearly annoyed to be given advice on parenting. “What are they trying to do?”

Shumway leans back against his desk and folds his arms. “The reading clubs, art classes and religious discussion groups; all of them are debating politics. Everything from ancient Greek democracies and the Roman Republic to earth politics of the early 2050s. Cartwig’s using the groups as cover for proselytising seditious ideas. In short, she wants to change how the Ark is governed, from what she has recently started to call a ‘dictatorship’, to a ‘true democracy’. Sir.”

Kane looks at the fuming Jaha and the smug Commander of the Guard. “Without evidence you’ve just got some wild speculations about academic talk Shumway.”

“I need the support of the Chancellor and you Councillor Kane, as head of Security, to get that evidence. Only you two can give me the authority to access all the suspects video feeds.”

Kane mentally rears back from the very idea, but Jaha’s already nodding and giving his agreement. “Yes, I see the need. They’re hiding their real intent in public behind ‘academic debate’ and the ‘freedom to discuss ideas and history’.  The damning evidence will be found in their private spaces. Do it Commander, get me that evidence.” He then notices Kane’s reticence and swivels round on the chair to face his Head of Security. “Are you with us Kane or do I need to find someone with guts to be my Head of Security?”

“No, Sir. Er. Yes, Sir. Er. I’m with you.”  Kane’s smoothly shaven cheeks blush with embarrassment at his stammering response and for a moment he can see Jaha wondering if he really is up to the job.

June 23rd, 2148, CE.  The Ark. Alpha Station.

It’s Jake’s turn to pace. "Not this time. I've tried, Abby. This isn't a glitch. It's a system failure. People need to know."

Abby stands to face him. Her hands grasp his forearms, desperate to convince him. "No. They’ll panic.”

"You sound like Kane, when I told the Council yesterday!”

"Because he’s right.”

Clarke appears from her room. Both parents look shocked by her sudden arrival. “No mom, dad’s right. People have the right to know that we have only one or two-years oxygen left.”

Abby recovers from the surprise of Clarke’s presence. She’s not convinced. “A riot or violence will mean lives lost and oxygen wasted. You can’t tell them!”

A loud bang from the hallway has all three of them turning to see what’s happening. Then the room is full of Guards. Jake moves forward to protect his family, a sharp buzzing crackle and he collapses, tasered by Gru. Kane’s there holding Abby back and Grace Byrne grabs onto Clarke, lifting her off the ground in a bear hug. “You can’t help him Clarke if you get tasered too. Try to calm down.” The girl slumps into a faint and Grace struggles to hold the dead weight. Abby’s torn, Jake’s on the floor, eyes rolling and muscles twitching, while Clarke's gone limp and Major Byrne lowers her onto the couch.

“What’s going ……” Abby doesn’t get the chance to finish before Kane intones the formulaic words.

“Jake and Clarke Griffin I am placing you under arrest on suspicion of treason. You have the right to remain silent and refuse to answer questions. If you give up the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You are entitled to the services of an attorney.”

Abby can’t help herself. “Good job Kane you just Mirandarized a near unconscious man and a teenager out of it with shock!”

Kane’s response is clipped. “The only reason you’re not under arrest Abby is that you tried to stop him. Do you want Clarke to be an orphan when both of you get floated?”  

Abby gulps, then turns to Major Byrne. “Grace, check her vitals and airways please.” The Major nods and starts to gently examine the unconscious girl, it looks like a harmless faint. Then Jake starts to fit, violently spasming and choking. Abby drops to her knees intending to roll him into the recovery position when Gru casually points his taser at her and 50,000 volts lock every muscle in her body. As she lies there helpless, she hears Jake’s agonised last breaths, Kane’s exasperated “For fucks sake Gru!” and the reply

“He’s dead meat Councilor, even if she saved him, it would only be for him to be floated in a day or so!”

July 31st, 2149, CE.  The Ark. The Sky Box

The rough charcoal scrapes over the floor and grass, leaves and apples start to form from the dusty lines.  Clarke hums the tune to. “Don’t sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me, anyone else but me. No. No. No. Hmmm Hmmm.”

Her cell door opening startles her and she drops the marker. “Prisoner 319 face the wall.”

“Ugh” her voice is a croak; she’s scarcely spoken for the last year.

She’s hauled to her feet and pushed towards the wall. “Watch off.”

“No! It was my dad’s.” A hand strong grabs her wrist and Clarke loses it. Kicking, screaming, biting.  The Guards fall back and she’s out of the cell, running along a walkway.

“Hey Princess! Long time no see!”

It’s Jonny Murphy (‘just call me Murphy Princess I’m all grown up now’) and he, along with other prisoners, is being herded out of the cells and along another walkway. What’s going on? Then her mom is there. “Mom I’m not eighteen, they shouldn’t…”

“They’re not executing you or anyone honey. Earth Clarke. You get to go to Earth!”

“What! To die of radiation? It’s not going to be safe for another hundred years!”

“We don’t know that honey. It’s a chance, a chance to live. Clarke listen to me; you’ll try to help everyone but remember to look after yourself too.” Abby snaps a wristband on. “This band will tell us how you are, we’ll be with you all the way.” There’s a sharp pain and everything goes dark.

“That wasn’t necessary Guardsman, she’d calmed down.”

“Orders Dr Griffin. All prisoners are to be sedated.”

“Sedated Guardsman, not knocked unconscious.”

……………………………………

Clarke comes round strapped tightly into a metal framed flight-seat; her ears assaulted by a cacophony of voices and the roar of some kind of engine. Raising her head makes her feel ill but when the voice to her left whispers “Hey Clarke!” she knows immediately who it is.

“Wells, what are you doing here?”

Her question goes unanswered when screens light up over the ship and the Chancellor’s voice booms out. Hoots of derision greet his first words but soon there’s silence as their destination Mount Weather and status as expendables, is made clear.

“Wells, your dad’s a dick!” That’s Finn, who floats by, blowing Clarke a kiss as he passes. She sticks her tongue out at him. This is their usual greeting; ever since he declared undying love for her at age fifteen, only to be caught kissing another girl a few parties later. They’re friends and he tries it on occasionally, invariably she tells him to “Fuck off.”

“You say that like it’s news Finn!” Is Wells crisp reply. “Hey Finn, and you guys strap in, or when the thrusters fire you’ll be done for.” Finn floats off and grabs at his seat. With a roar the whole dropship bucks upwards, there’s a horrible splat-like sound, cascades of sparks and then silence.

Clarke looks round, some faces are familiar, they look back at her with frightened eyes. She realises she must look frightened too. Because she is. Terrified!  

 The touchdown is misleadingly gentle, the faint rustle of the parachutes can just be heard. Then silence for a few seconds.

“Wow”

“Fuck!”

“This is it. Who’s gonna be first out?”

“It’s so quiet. No machine hum! I think the radio’s fucked!”

“Open the door. Hey Bell, what are you doing here?”

“Looking after you sis! You can be the first person back on the ground. Not just the ‘girl under the floor’.’”

“Hold on. It may be deadly out there?” It’s Clarke, struggling out of her seat.

“Die now or later – there’s not much choice princess.” Bellamy pulls the large metal lever and with a hiss of hydraulics the hatch swings open.  By the time Octavia climbs out shouting “We’re back bitches!” the door is jammed with kids trying to get out.

Tumbling out are Finn, Jasper, Dax, Monty, Bellamy, Murphy and Wells. More cautious are Charlotte and Clarke, scrambling over the steep step and then over a mass of bent metal, crushed satellite dishes and scrubby trees. Out onto the rocky ground, the earth, home!

Looking around Clarke feels like she’s on top of the world, breathing air that doesn’t thankfully burn her skin or lungs, looking down on misty clouds! Looking down on forests. She turns a full circle just to try and take it all in.  They’re on top of a mountain! Well, nearly. A few yards ahead is a cliff, woah! a sheer drop of hard grey rock. She moves away and as she, Charlotte, Murphy and Wells wander around the back of the still hot and smoking dropship, they have to brace themselves against a strong wind. Wind its wind – moving air. Wow!

As they explore, they pick up bits of rock, a leaf, pine-cones! Murphy pockets a sliver of metal and a handy length of cable. In the background the delinquents are making plenty of noise, shouts of joy, laughter, then there’s a scream of alarm and loud bangs!  What? Clarke pushes Charlotte behind her as they quietly return to the dropship. When she sees hazmat-suited figures, holding guns standing over the slumped figure of the boy she thinks is called Bellamy she draws back. “Wells, Murphy, you take Charlie away from here. Now! Please she needs you to look after her.”  Wells and Murphy exchange a look and Murphy takes Charlotte’s hand. 

“I’ll take her. Jaha, look after our princess or I’ll have your guts.” Murphy’s eyes are beseeching despite the threat and Wells nods his understanding before moving to Clarke’s side.  Murphy and Charlotte creep quietly into the scrubby pines, it’s a long long way down.

“Who is your leader?” A voice smooth and persuasive, roughened slightly by amplification, booms out from a speaker that hangs precariously from one of the damaged pylons.

Clarke swallows hard before walking out into the open, hands raised above her head, Wells follows. “That’s most likely me! What have you done to Bellamy? Is he okay?” Six guns swing in her direction. That she can’t see their eyes behind the glass goggles and masks is unnerving to say the least. One of them moves closer to her, his rifle raised.

This voice is gruff and sounds breathily mechanical through the respirator and mask. “He tried to shoot one of us and took a bullet. We’ll take him to medical; he might make it.” A tiny figure rams into the speaker. It’s Octavia, scrabbling at the suit, pulling at the oxygen tank and the tubing that connects it to the mask.  

“You killed my brother you bastard.”  Smack! The butt of his rifle smashes into her forehead and she reels back. Wells jumps forward to catch her as she drops to the floor.  

The smooth voice returns. “Please be calm, we mean you no harm. Welcome to Mount Weather Emergency Operations Centre.”