The sharp tip of a Jaunti spear pierces through Cohe’s robes as it nudges him forwards. He steps heavily through the Fallow Vine, over the large Bascus leaves, his hands tightly bound behind his back. Cohe glances to his left, frowning slightly as he looks upon Sohng, before glancing over his shoulder at the many Jaunti Warriors who march behind them.
Sohng wriggles his fists, briefly relieving the tension in the ropes that bind him.
“Some would believe you wish to die,” says Cohe, his eyes fixed upon the enormous leaves that disguise the uneven ground.
“The thought of death never crosses my mind,” says Sohng, shaking a Scorrin bug from his long, tangled beard.
Cohe sighs, in silent acknowledgment of his friend’s unspoken words, forgiving himself for forgetting the arduous battle that rages beneath Sohng’s calm and contrasting exterior.
As a curtain of light begins to appear in the distance, Cohe glances to his left once more, urgently anticipating something of an interruption to the Jaunti’s proceedings.
“I’m not sure my promise can be kept,” says Cohe.
“You must,” says Sohng, “This is their way, we must see things through their eyes, and respect their situation.”
“What of our situation?” asks Cohe. “Is this completely necessary?” Impatiently frustrated, Cohe simply cannot accept Sohng’s extremely dangerous, yet empathetic course of action.
A spear nudges Sohng’s shoulder forward as the Jaunti warrior behind him urges him on through the forest. They climb the steepening slope until they reach a level clearing. As they step out of the trees, the bright sunlight forces the Jaunti to squint their eyes, while Sohng and Cohe lift their faces to the sky, basking in the warmth. Cohe lowers his gaze to the sudden lack of ground up ahead.
“Give them time,” says Sohng, as Cohe turns his head anxiously towards him.
The Jaunti force them a length from the edge of a steep cliff, overlooking the Western Pass, a long snaking gorge that stretches north as far as Midlow. The Jaunti stop, tapping their spears against the ground before a short, plump, painted man, wearing a feathered headdress, steps forward.
“Turn yourselves around, men of haddah-tricks,” says the Jaunti chief.
The Jaunti warriors surround them, leaving the cliff as their only exit.
“Either way,” says Cohe, “We are never doing this again.”
“Your trickery will not fool my people,” says the chief, pointing his tall, carved, wooden staff at Sohng and Cohe. “We spare no mercy for those who disrespect the gods.”
“We understand,” says Sohng, “But we were not trying to impersonate the gods, we are only trying to protect you.”
The chief’s chin shudders in anger before he bangs his staff against the ground. “We have survived the fall of kingdoms, the rise of mountains, why would we need protection from the outside world.”
“I don’t mean to disrespect you,” says Sohng, “But it is only a matter of time…”
“Silence!” snaps the chief. “Your words do not matter, you are out of time.”
Cohe glances at Sohng once more, twisting his brow as Sohng shrugs his shoulders at him.
“Show them the way down,” says the chief, averting his eyes from his unwelcome guests.
The warriors lift their spears once more and point them at Sohng and Cohe forcing them to walk towards the edge of the cliff. Sohng and Cohe step backwards, keeping a hands length clear of the sharp, fired tips.
Sweat rolls down the side of the chief’s painted face. He smiles in grotesque satisfaction, as his warriors near the edge of the cliff.
“This was not the way to help them,” says Cohe. “And this is going to hurt.”
Sohng glances over his shoulder as they near the edge. The wind blows sand from the yellow rocks, whisking it off the cliff, into the warm air that swirls high above the deep gorge below.
“Sorry, if I may,” says Sohng. “There is one thing I have forgotten to tell you.”
The chief chuckles, closing his eyes and turning his back on Sohng. The warriors lift their staffs out of the way as the chief steps towards the forest. But before he can take a second step, a large figure emerges before him.
“Hold,” booms a loud voice, as a tall, muscular woman steps forward.
The warriors stop, leaving Sohng and Cohe balanced on the very edge of the cliff, with nothing but the morning sun between them and their imminent death.
The chief lowers his head before the woman strides past. She is followed by twelve female warriors, their eyes painted a perfect black, each of them wearing identical armour made of fresh vine and woven grass. The male warriors step back, clearing a path for the enormous woman. She stands before Sohng and Cohe, who step forward, away from the edge of the cliff. But, as Sohng steps forward, a small piece of the cliff breaks away. Song disappears over the edge before Cohe can turn to reach for him. The woman gasps, reaching out towards Sohng as she watches him fall.
“Sohng,” says Cohe, leaning over the edge, only to see his young, impulsive friend disappear beyond a cloud of dust.
The chief chuckles to himself while the woman steps towards Cohe, taking him by the arm and leading him away from the edge.
“Forgive us,” says the woman, “His was an unnecessary death.”
“Who are you?” asks Cohe.
The woman tilts her head, visibly confused by Cohe’s question.
“He did not tell you?” she asks. “I am Sache, master of the Jaunti. Your friend appeared before me, though I thought it a dream. He told me of the ones you call Mardern, killers of children, men, women, and gods. He warned me they were coming. We were surveying our perimeters when you must have arrived at our village.”
Cohe hangs his head. “He knew you were coming, he knew you would only believe us if you saw it for yourselves.”
“These men have saved us from a fate that we could not have escaped,” says Sache, turning to glare at the chief and his warriors.
“Look, there,” says one of the warriors, pointing his hand towards the cliff on the other side of the gorge.
Cohe turns around, his mouth peels open as he gazes across the western pass. In the distance, a small figure waves his hand in the air.
Sache steps past Cohe, widening her eyes as they fill with disbelief. “He is… How did…Your friend… what is his name?” she asks.
“His name is Sohng,” says Cohe, slowly raising his hand into the air.
“How? How did he get there?” asks Sache.
“I do not know,” says Cohe, waving his hand above his head.
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