"There is a tribe of fawns downstream." The chief explained. "I want to attack it."
Tunu nodded obediently.
He was quite excited at the perspective of pillage, having never even witnessed that prized activity in his lifetime. So he only waited to be told what to do. Next to him Tuorka, the champion, let a short sigh.
"Then it's agreed." The chief continued. "They have a wall so Tuorka will go first and keep the door open. We follow behind him, get through and overwhelm them."
"Or I could breach the wall!"
The scaled kobel's excitement only made his chief frown.
"You could do that... but you would help much more by staying back with everyone else. Few of us are warriors, Tunu. Few have the guts to throw themselves into the melee. So I need you to show them the path of the wyvern."
"A breach would do that!"
"Staying close to the others will do more." And he noticed the kobel's disappointment. "Don't worry. Once we are through, you will have plenty to fight."
"Okay! You will see, I will crush them in no time!"
The chief let him boast and turned to his shaman.
"I assume the omens are good?"
"Of course they are! Like you care, Kreil! you never listen to my omens!"
"I remember you saying we would get attacked by a wyvern."
"I said a wyvern would come! A wyvern has come! Get off my case!"
"Fair enough."
They were exchanging fruits and liquor while discussing under the tent. The smell of alcohol still floated in the air.
Between those words all of them could feel the same tension. For once their tribe was on a warpath. To Tunu it felt like a clash of gods in the making. Blood boiling at the perspective. He could not imagine being the only one.
"Once we win, we'll have to be quick. Those fawns are likely tributaries. We take their cattle and their carts, then go fetch Tunu's treasure."
"What treasure?"
They all looked at him, astounded.
"The pile of gold? The wyvern's treasure, it's yours now."
Just as a beast had no use for gold, the tribe would only get encumbered by such a hoard. But just as naturally, the way of the wyvern would not allow them to leave it all behind. If anything they believed that the kobel's scales were due to that sudden wealth.
So after a few more talks and some laughs the group got up and left the chief's tent.
Outside, Elua was waiting, embarrassed.
Now that it was sunny again it was clear how paltry her looks were compared to the other kobels who stopped in their chores to look at Tunu with envy. She wasn't much, truly, and she knew it more than anyone else.
Tunu's eyes seared her with shame.
But he approached her in a heartbeat and took her hands.
"Sorry I was so long! Let's go!"
The warrior at her side nodded and left them.
She needed a warrior now that everyone else thought they were together. Few could stomach that such an ugly female could charm a legend. Many could entertain an accident setting things right.
He was almost a head taller than her.
"I should be tanning hides." She looked away.
He brought her muzzle back to him.
"No! No more work! We're about to..."
"Eh!"
Tuorka approached him. The old warrior still dominated, even though his eyes offered no defiance. On the contrary, that bulky lizard was wary of angering their new champion.
"Don't spread rumors." He told Tunu. "Let the chief handle it."
"Oh, sorry! It's okay, I will tell you later!" He promised to Elua. "How about a walk in the woods? Along the stream? We'll be back in no time!"
He was almost pleading with her and her, completely taken aback, felt her heart suddenly lift. Yesterday she could not have imagined a single male looking at her. This morning she was sure it had all been in her head.
But his scales rubbed her ugly fur with insistence and she could allow herself to believe in it.
They spent the whole morning together.
Morning went past and it took someone looking for them to bring them back down to reality.
By then the tribe had seen their warriors depart, then their chief announce the raid. Everyone was arming themselves to march downstream. The camp would be left empty. At the upcoming battle everyone felt nervous. all wanted to know where Tunu was, the chief most among them.
So he held her hands one last time, promised to come back quickly and then followed that messenger back to the camp, to the kobels assembled with wooden spears and bone knives for all weapons. Their armor would be their heart.
They departed.
They quickly stretched into a column along the stream, first along the woods and then into open fields where, upon reaching that wide space, their chief sounded the horn. Another answered him not far and he gestured to make haste.
The farmers, frail bodies of wool and skin with tiny horns, ran away at the sight of that kobel mass.
The fawns' village was still struggling to understand the threat. It was surrounded by a stone wall nearly three meters high, of rough stone piled and held with thatch. Three entrances had wooden doors made with logs that could be dropped down to block any assault.
It was now a race against time before the villagers closed them.
The kobel warriors, light and fast, had rushed through the fields and taken the defenders by surprise. They overwhelmed the closest door to keep it open.
But fawns were equal in strength and against that small troop had the numbers. With the tribe still in the distance, Tuorka and his peers fought hard against overwhelming odds.
They were forced to retreat, but now without breaking down the door. Warriors trickled back into the fields while the villagers, behind them, hurried to barricade that gap with all they could find. As long as the door held they were confident.
Were it to break, against a savage horde the fawns feared for their life.
Tuorka had been wounded. Another warrior was helping him walk.
"Kreil!" That warrior warned. "Their barricade is frail but they are no pushovers!"
The chief hesitated but for only a second.
"We're attacking. Everyone! Geat ready to plunder! Each of you get a kill if you have wyvern blood!"
"Finally! Let's go!"
Tunu was about to charge ahead, all alone, but the chief held him back just as the tribe, in a sudden bloodlust, started their march.
"Stay with us."
It made no sense, for the young kobel it made no sense. He was strong now, he had scales, he could just rush through and massacre that small fry! He had killed a wyvern!
But he bit back his bile and, like a glorified flag, just followed the slow pace of the attacking crowd.
As they approached, gaining pace, the fawns kept pushing crates and barrels in a pile to block the gap. They looked frail, all fluffy in their wool and cute horns. Defenseless, really. They could be no threat. Once the distance closed enough they started to throw pellets at the assailants.
Then both sides exchanged javelins. Then the kobels, on the few last meters, broke into a mad rush to climb over the pile and push it over.
For a few, confused seconds, it seemed to work. Nobody noticed the wounds and the bodies rolling back. Then the crowd wavered. The barricade held.
Then Tunu reached the first rank, broke out and just threw himself against the heavy mass of crates and logs. He hit it with his shoulder, once as nothing happened, a second time to make it waver, a third time and had it fall over.
The tribe's warriors followed the moment, rushed past to overwhelm what fawns had not fallen back from the broken barricade. Tunu climbed after them, followed by the whole mass of kobels gone mad.
They poured in on panicked defenders.
He fell on one, felt the copper spearhead slide against his scales. His fist crashed against his prey, then he opened his palms and the claws ripped free.
And before he could think, as chaos ensued and the fawns fled screaming, he started to feed.
This was not a thing kobels did. But the lizard had crouched on the fallen beast to plunge his teeth and tear the flesh apart. He was eating it raw. His heart was beating so hard that he could not stop, just ravenous. Blood dripping wild at his jaws.
A few of his tribe saw it and stopped, horrified, but their chief broke through.
"What? Keep fighting! How do you think he claimed his scales?! No go claim yours, you cowards! The battle is not over!"
On they went, by the dozens into what had become a massacre. House by house to snuff out isolated pockets of resistance.
The old chief could not look away, eyes wide, from his champion feeding with abandon.