The hill folk under the command of Davama Ollaga faded into the darkness after they'd provided sufficient distraction for the abduction of Salema, Tragon and Mossara's daughter. Dravo Asta found himself in an unfamiliar situation: ambushed and savaged. On the wrong end of the spear! He controlled himself and the rising fury that boiled in his breast by measured breathing and intense personal discipline. If he were going to be of any use to his people, himself, Salema, in this situation; he needed to project calm and purpose, no matter what he felt. He had to appear regal, unaffected by the carnage -- Balawa, Caralassa, Malleya, and Solomana. All of them dead, none of them would enjoy life again. Taste the sunshine on their pelt, the rain on their lips! His fault. He should have anticipated that Davama would pull some shenanigans like this: Four of his tribe murdered, six others wounded, two so seriously that they might not live out the night! He sighed in a controlled exhale. No one must sense the pain and futility he was experiencing right now! No one!!!
He summoned his lieutenants:
"Roga, Urolo, Wago, Asawa! To my side, right now!"
They gathered in a tight circle around the monkeylord. His gaze met each of theirs in a silent appraisal.
"Asawa, Urolo, Wago, gather the survivors, wrap the dead in mats and blankets, break camp and rendezvous with Estella's warriors at the edge of the great lake! No discussion! It's a four-hour quick march! Asawa, Wago, once there bring a party of her warriors back to Davama's caves. Follow our track.
Urolo, you'll escort the survivors to Estellas' lakeside retreat, offer my felicitations and apologies with the assurance that I will be joining her forthwith."
"Uncle," Urolo began.
"Wash her feet, fuck her senseless, do a mating dance for her if need be.......I'm counting on you to distract that lusty wench until I return."
"Yes uncle!" Urolo bowed his acceptance and understanding.
"Good! Roga, last year you scouted this area so I would be honored if you were to accompany me to rescue Salema and the slave or die trying."
"As you wish, my lord."
"Indeed!"
Dravo and Roga armed themselves, each packing a scout's kit and set off toward Davama's redoubt tracking Vera and the hill folk.
Dravo relived those moments following Caralassa's death:
Vera had moved to join him battling the hill folk when Caralassa went down and Salema was abducted. Vera'd been rigid for a moment -- immobile -- then she exploded in a savage blur of carnage and destruction! She killed three of them in mere seconds, maybe less, before she disappeared in pursuit of the girl and her abductors.
Dravo knew she was fast and strong, much faster and far, far, stronger than himself. He'd been sparring with her for weeks with sword and staff. She could parry the most cunning thrusts and could have easily taken him out had she been so inclined. It was like sparring with a masa, only much more dangerous! He'd killed masa but wasn't sure that he'd fare as well against his lover.
The greater moon had risen and the jungle was awash in it's pale light. Tracking could still be a chore. Dawn was a couple of hours away.
Roga was an excellent tracker but as he pointed out: "She won't be hard to track, she's left a trail of bodies!! I hope that Davama's is among them!!!!"
No such good luck was theirs. Vera had moved quickly but without stealth. Her tracks were easy to follow but her stride was unbelievable! She must have been nearly flying! Roga remarked on this more than once before they got to the river. Dravo spotted her tracks on the other side.
'She must have leaped the river and landed on the other side!" Roga shook his head. "Did you know that she could do these things, Lord?"
Now it was Dravo's turn to shake his head, "No, I know that she's very strong and fast, but how could anyone guess that she leap a river? Take strides like a god! Run so fast that she could draw a sword, lop off a man's head and sheath it before she takes two strides! No, Roga, I had no idea that she could do anything like this!"
They forded the river and climbed into the jungle on the other side. Vera's tracks were not as widely spaced as when she was going downhill, but still quite a span between them. Dravo wondered how she could see well enough to run that fast. The lesser moon had already set so night's grip was complete. Yet, the slave had moved through the blackness along the trail as though it were full daylight. More mysteries about that woman -- more every minute! He followed Roga to a spot on the trail where the earth was disturbed.
The younger man examined the area and sniffed at a spot. He stood and nodded. "Shit, and hill raider shit, I'm sure of it! I've smelled enough of it the past few days! She must've knocked a turd out of the bastard when she killed him!"
"No sign of a body."
"No, m'Lord." Roga moved up the trail, "Here's her tracks."
Dravo followed thinking about what lay ahead: Vera probably hadn't rescued the girl yet, else she'd be heading back. What if that ugly shit Davama had managed to kill her? What, for that matter, did he want with Salema? Did he think he could use her to negotiate with Tragon or himself? Dravo shrugged to himself, maybe that fucker had been a better pupil than he thought. "We'll see how good he is," Dravo thought, "we will see."