Checkmate

Enemy Territory

"What I wouldn't give for a proper bed."

"You want a bed, I want food. I swear I will never complain about Clanholding catering ever again. Five weeks of stews and more stews. If I see another one, you can stew me."

"I just hope Vargas is worth the pain."

Leader Iola and I caught each others' eyes and exchanged smiles as the chatter of some of the contingent reached our ears. 

"So do I." The Guard nearest me mumbled. "Worth the pain of listening to that lot griping away for the past three weeks."

"Now, Orine." Iola admonished gently. 

"They might try being on duty at the borders for a week, is all. We're lucky if we get hot food out there." The Guard was about to continue but stopped at Iola's glance. "I'm just saying, my Lord."

"They're just tired, that's all." Iola said lightly, smiling, "Let's be kind."

"My Lord." The Guard inclined her head, sighing, continuing ahead.

"We're all tired." Iola said quietly, for my ears only as we carefully picked our way over the rocks.  She exhaled slowly. "It would have to be Vargas."

"We're almost there." I said, taking her arm and helping her over a particularly awkward rock cropping, gesturing at the imposing grey city walls looming slightly ahead.

"And not a moment too soon." She said drily. "One day more and I think they'd have killed each other."

I had to agree with her. Even the Guard, hardy and experienced as they were, had finally reached their limit. Five weeks of travel, through forests, fields and all sorts of terrain even at full Clan speed, had taken it out of everyone. I was probably the most seasoned of them all and was still holding up alright, but I'd welcome the hot bath and food as much as the others. 

We were attending the annual Congress of the Clans, the gathering where representatives of all the existing Clans came together to reaffirm Clan unity, to discuss and debate Clan Laws and make changes if necessary and to deal with inter-Clan conflicts. 

Well, that's what the Congress was supposed to be for. 

In reality, it was a lot of careful manoeuvring, a managed chess game, each move watched and analysed so that the balance between Clans was never tipped.

I wasn't a fan of the Congresses but I could appreciate their purpose. Since their inception, nearly two hundred years ago, Clans had managed to co-exist without any major events and, more importantly, without another Clan War. The last one had nearly wiped two Clans out. No-one wanted to see that happen again. 

Each year, the role of host went to the next Clan in the rotation. Our Clan had last played host seven years ago - this year it was Clan Vargas' turn. 

Clan Vargas.

The most remote Clan of all - in more ways than one. Perhaps it was their sheer distance from everyone else - located, as they were, at the eastern-most edge of the Clanlands - or the fact that they were the only Clan with an ocean abutting them, but they were a mysterious bunch. It was rare to find Vargans roaming the Clanlands, they seemed quite content to stay in their own territories. While inter-Clan matings did occur, there'd never been a case of a Vargan mated outside their Clan. And they were so far away, even the thought of exploring was enough to put people off. So no-one knew much about them. 

Which was why there'd been a lot of volunteers to be on the contingent for the Congress this year. 

I hadn't been one of them. But I'd been given no choice, I was following orders. For some reason, Clan Leader Craege had assigned me personally.