02 Quetzals Flock

QUETZAL'S FLOCK
His death took the fight out of his men, they retreated with his body. Eridos
swore to finish what his father had begun. He returned and there was much blood
letting. The dead were buried and the men of both sides took their women and
children and retreated to their own Encampments. That was how it happened, my
father. Not long after, you walked through the Great Arch and were gone. Obeid, my
uncle told me the story. My mother refuses to speak of that time."
"Why did I become so angry - why did I spoil the chance of reconciliation?"
"I do not know."
Kane knew that he did. Hammadi had told of that battle as if it had occurred
yesterday. He kept reminding himself that it had happened four thousand years into
their past. He wondered how a man could hate for that long. How could maintain the
rage during the long centuries? Eridos had sworn to finish what his father had begun.
They had kept their Enmity and Battle raging for nearly twenty thousand years. It
took a great deal of determination to remain that angry. He had no doubt that he had
an implacable enemy in Eridos, his Brother of the Image!
Kane lapsed into a peculiar state of trance induced by the monotonous
landscape of low ridges and pinkish Schwarm against the deeper red of the soil. The
only relief was an occasional clump of Myrc, which was carefully avoided. Hammadi
kept glancing skyward, ensuring that they didn't stray under the patrol area of one of
the great birds. Kane appreciated the respect he showed to them, having heard their
legend. If they could rip a man open with one talon, they would be formidable
creatures with which to tangle. It was necessary to make one or two detours during the
day's journey, to avoid an egg-womb.
He knew when it was time to stop. His thighs were aching from the
requirement to sit straddled on the Picun's back. The animals had a coarse ridge of
bristle along the spine, which had played a great part in his discomfort. His shoulders
were aching from the effort of keeping the riding stance.
Hammadi chose a place to camp which was well protected from sudden attack.
It was in the middle of one of the clumps of boulders, scattered around the plain. They
looked as if they had been deposited by some gigantic stone bird. Dagh and Motya
rejoined them, they had been out of sight for the better part of a hour. They reported
no sign of the Black Cloaks. Dagh added with a shy smile.
"We spoke with the Old Ones. They see far, there is no sign of others on the
plain."
Kane assumed that they meant the Sentinels, it made his scalp prickle and the
inner man stirred in awakened interest. He whispered to Hammadi.
"Are they really able to talk to them?"
Hammadi was defensive.
"Some think they can listen to the Mind of the Flock. There have been some
strange reports, which could not be explained in any other way."
He paused again, looking more uncomfortable.
"Before and during a Battle, we consult those who say they can listen to the
Flock-Mind. They tell us where to deploy our forces - and where we can find the
enemy."
"Do you win every Battle?"
"Not all, my father."
So much for tapping in to the Mind of the Flock!
"I suppose there's no good reason for the Sentinels to favour one side over the
other."
Hammadi looked at him sharply.
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