The Siege of the Ringpeaks
by razorborne
Status: Private
Word Count: 1525

“Silence!”

And silence fell. Kogoth had that effect on people. The high priestess surveyed the gathered Herdmares. Hundreds, there were. The great leaders knelt within the Temple’s doors, while those without such impressive armies spilt out to the redgrass outside.

“We have tolerated their ways too long,” She began, once she was certain she had their full attention. “The Herdless mock us. With their existence, they insult our beliefs, our traditions, our very way of life. They are savages, savages born of the base instincts that lie within each and every one of us. They threaten our sanctity, tempt our youths to barbarism, impugn the nobility we have worked long and hard to grow!”

A shallow chorus of approval ran through the assembled crowd as Kogoth continued, her passion growing with each new syllable. “They are no longer Centaurs! They gave up the right to that name when they turned their back on their people! We must strike, sisters! Ride on the Ringpeaks! Drive them from their blasphemous home and spill their blood on the Redgrass! Kemil will be pure! For the first time in living memory, Kemil will finally be pure!”

She paused for impact, let the last line sink in. Hollers of assent, of exigence, of thinly righteous bloodlust echoed in the ancient halls of the Temple. She had an army, she knew, but the Ringpeaks were a veritable fortress. She needed the great herds. She watched the front rows closely, seeking potential allies, making mental notes of the various nodding faces, and then…

“Aren’t there more pressing matters?”

Saurim. She’d been afraid of that. The Cloudfoot had lost her concern for Kemil, subsumed by her love of the front line. Saurim had left her Isle behind, and taken with her one of the greatest herds the Redgrass had ever seen. Kogoth turned slowly, fire burning in her eyes, as the room fell silent.

“What could possibly be more pressing than our heritage?” She asked icily.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Kogoth, but there’s a war going on. Our raids are making deep inroads on Blackrock. We should take the shore by week’s end. We have the Oneblade’s fleets running, Chirom is near-empty but for their mutant wretches, and we’ve even begun to make progress on Milor. You would have us abandon all those for your trivial wrath?”

“One does not march to war with an enemy at her flank,” interjected Tekama Nightgrass from the second row. Saurim turned her head slightly and shrugged.

“The Herdless are not our enemies.” A few gasps shot through the crowd but were quickly muffled. “Nor are they are friends. They are nothing, rats to be crushed under heel at our convenience. We will deal with them when the time is right, but I see no reason to impede the war effort now to solve a problem that simply doesn’t exist. We’ve been at war for decades, with the Herdless behind us the whole time.”

“Perhaps,” mused Kogoth, her calm tone belying daggers, “that is why it has lasted decades.”

Saurim shrugged again. “Perhaps. Fight what wars you wish, Thundertrail, but I’ll concern myself with foes worth my time.”

Stollik stood atop the peak, watching the plains under dark of night. It was peaceful up here. She could almost forget what she had lost.

A quiet rustle shook her from her meditative watch. She turned, saw Vatakke approaching, and smiled.

“As silent as a Troll, my friend.”

“Is there someone here I should be hiding from?”

“That depends what news you bring.”

The lieutenant sighed, sat down beside her. “They’re coming.”

“I know.”

“Might be today, might be tomorrow. Might even be next week, but they’re coming.”

“We’ve survived before.”

“Not this time. Kogoth is rallying the great herds. Saurim alone could wipe us out.”

“The Cloudfoot will not ride with them.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because we’re boring, Vatakke. A pack of refugees huddled in the mountains. Saurim has the whole archipelago at her hooves, why would she bother with meaningless dregs like you and I? No, my friend, the Cloudfoot will not ride with them.”

“Still, we won’t make it. We don’t have the rations to withstand a siege. They won’t have to lift a single bow, just wait while we starve to death. We should run. Leave the Ringpeaks, spread out. They can’t catch us all.”

Stollik shook her head. “No,” she replied. “Out there on the Redgrass, we’re just targets, easily hunted. If Kogoth has the great herds by her side we won’t last a week. Here at least we have defenses. Here we can make a stand. For each of us we can kill twenty of them. They’ll take us eventually but at least we can make them bleed for it.”

“They’ll bleed, but we’ll be dead.”

Stollik nodded and turned to look out over the plains. “Indeed. Make peace with that, Vatakke.”

Sunrise

The sun had set on empty grass. It rose on an army.

“There must be twenty thousand of them…” Vatakke whispered, crouched next to Stollik and a few others in a crevice in the mountains.

“More, no doubt,” Stollik agreed, a slight smile played across her grim face.

“Is it too late to revisit the idea of running away?”

“Only slightly.”

“Ah, well.”

“STOLLIK!” The call came from below. The Herdless looked down, saw Kogoth standing at the front line. “WE MUST SPEAK! I INVOKE COVENANCE!”

Vatakke raised his bow, taking aim at the high priestess, but Stollik waved him down.

“Shoot her down after the invocation, and we’ll have all the great herds on us. She wants to speak, we’ll speak. Save your arrows, you’ll need them.”

Vatakke placed a hand on his commander’s shoulder. “Be careful,” He said, “You can’t trust her. She’ll do anything to wipe us out. Covenance won’t protect you.”

Stollik laughed. “Kogoth? No, she’s bound to her rules. Besides, I have you at my back. Keep your bow trained on her if it makes you feel better, but don’t shoot until they do. That’s an order, Vatakke.”

“You are no longer Herdmare, my friend. You can’t give me orders.”

Stollik laughed and shook her head. “And yet here we are, Vatakke.”

And so it was that Stollik Arrowhoof rode out to meet the high priestess of The Temple, her bow across her back and the meager forces of the Ringpeaks behind her.

Kogoth sneered as the Herdless leader approached. “Interesting. I didn’t think a rat like you would come. Perhaps some shred of nobility remains in you even now. More’s the pity, I suppose.”

“I’m not here for insults, Thundertrail. I’m here to debate the terms of your genocide.”

“Would you offer a surrender if I’d accept it?”

“Would you accept it if I offered?”

“Your pride has always been your weakness, Stollik. I remember you, you know. From your time at the Temple. Arrogant little thing, you were. Always fighting with Saurim. The biggest mare studying with us and you would just trot up and challenge her, every single day. Never won, of course, but never gave up. I admired that in you, once. That tenacity, that spirit. Now it’s a nuisance, and it will be your wretched people’s demise. You should have run while you had the chance. Left Kemil, took to the seas. Maybe there you could’ve found some scrap of home, but you stayed, didn’t you? You wouldn’t admit defeat, not even when we outnumber you a hundred to one. But this is no childhood brawl, Stollik. Lives are on the line. Your people threaten Kemil’s future by denying its past, and your blasphemy will be tolerated no longer!”

Through this, Stollik smiled vacantly, counting down in her head. She watched the priestess’s face, watched it change slowly from remembrance to rage, and watched it seethe in the careful silence that followed. When it looked like she was ready to pop, Stollik tilted her head to the side, flashed her most charming grin, and cheerfully asked “Is that all?”

The clouds of thunder crashing through Kogoth’s eyes indicated that this had had the intended effect. “You insolent little…” The priestess snapped, before she could calm herself. It was a fascinating thing watching her reassert control, like a steel cage falling slowly over a hurricane. “I could have you shot right now. Remember that, please.”

Stollik laughed. “No you couldn’t, Thundertrail. You invoked Covenance. Breaking that vow, even to scum like me, would mean death and, worse, disgrace. The battlefield stands ahead of us, but we do not stand on it.”

“You deserve no such honor. You betrayed your people, denied them to your shame.”

“I deserve nothing,” Stollik grinned, giddy on the rush of nothing to lose. “But I will take what I can get. I believe we’re done here. My people don’t report to me. I am no Herdmare, no leader. I earned their respect, but I do not command it. Killing me accomplishes nothing, though I’m sure you’ll do it anyway. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an army to stand futilely against.”

And thus Kemil’s war came home.