The Legend of Tess and Shotaviras

This is the tale of the First Warrior-Queen, who is known by as many names as there are cities and clans among the Lashunta, who is called Tess among the Cities of the Yaro and Qabarat, and Tiezesheth by the clans of the Retaea. Yet though the names change, the tale stays the same, about how Tess tamed the first Shotalashu and saved the Lashunta.   Long before the foundation of Son the first city and the Lashunta spread over Asana, the Lashunta had no Shotalashu. They dwelt only in the far North, where they hid in the deepwood. They shunned the Retaea for fear of the great Qoelu that thundered over the grassland, and skirted Lake Arasene for fear of the dread things that lurked within its swamps and waters. They hid among the trees, hunting fade-deer and gathering fruits, while the Korasha fought off all the many things that feed on Lashunta, mountain-eels, skyfishers, and coeurl, while the Damaya held their babes to breast and wept.   In a clanhold north of Lake Arasene, a maiden named Tess dwelt with her clan in a milktree’s boughs, where they hid from the things that hunted them. Tess would take bow and arrow and hunt along the treepaths to bring game for her kin, swiftreavers and fade-deer, and even creep down to the Darkfloor and bring back baletoads and grubworms. She also saw the mighty Shota as they leapt by, though she gave no threat or stroke, for she saw them as hunters like her. So she kept her clan alive while they hid in the Deepwood.   Near her clan’s treehold roamed a mighty pack of Shota, the greatest that hunted in the North. Their leader was Shotaviras, the mightiest Shota who ever lived. No other bull dared him, and all other packs gave way before his. Many were the queens who came for his blessing, and many more the eggs they bore, which hatched to fine and fierce Shota-cubs. Shotaviras led his pack out to the Retaea to hunt the Qoelu. Even dreadful Nysshalora the Queen-Slayer thought better than to try Shotavira’s might, lowered its fearsome jaws, and turned tail. Thus over all Shotaviras proudly ruled.   One treat Shotaviras desired over all else was treemilk. He loved nothing better than to find a ripe, fat teatwort hanging on a bough and suck the sweet, creamy sap dry. The biggest, most abundant milktree in the deepwood was the one where Tess’s clan dwelt, which they guarded fiercely, the Korasha with ready axes, and the Damaya with spears and bows laid near their babes’ cradles, for they treasured the treemilk to offward hunger.   Yet Shotaviras at night would sneak all the way up to the skytop of a neighbouring tree, rock back and forth, and use the sway to leap all the way over to the clan’s milktree without them noticing, for they thought it was but a wind-gust foreboding a storm. Then he would sneak downward and find a teatwort, suck it dry, and climb back up to repeat his trick and leap away. When the Lashunta caught him, they would yell, grab their bows, axes, and spears, and run after him. Yet Shotaviras too swiftly would flee, bolt through the clanhold, knock over the cooking pots, leap to a houseroof, and dig his claws through the thatch-moss, right before he leapt away to the neighboring tree. Then the Lashunta would shout, wave fists, and threaten curses upon his head. Yet Shotaviras merely hooted laughingly and fled away, licking his jowls for the last drops of treemilk. The Lashunta could never catch him when they tried to hunt him, for he was too swift, and they only ever heard his hooting laughter ere it faded among the boughs.   One Blighttide, Shotaviras got a hankering for treemilk and headed for the clan’s milktree, though he did not know that something else lurked near, for Blight-tide was also the time, in elder days, when the evil Moqeva would come northward to hunt the Retaea’s northern reaches. They would come into the deepwood and creep along the darkfloor, fearless of the dark and at home with the balethings that dwelt there. If they found Lashunta among the deepwood, they would hunt them down. Those they did not slay and eat right there, they would take back southward before the northern winds cooled the land, drag them down into their warrens, and keep them as larder-thralls, whence they would never be seen again.   For many years, Tess’s clan had dwelt within the deepwood at the hometree, hidden from the Moqeva. Yet a hunter had wounded a fade-deer, which had fled toward the deepwood’s edge and had been found by the Moqeva, who witted the Lashunta arrow in its body. So the Moqeva backtracked the fade-deer’s flight until they caught the milktree’s smell. Then they heard a babe’s wail, and drool quickened in their scaly maws. They ringed the hometree and readied their attack, right when Shotaviras was leaping to the skytop and stealing down for a drink of milk. They slithered up the tree-trunk, readied their blades, and stole murderously into the Lashunta huts.   Shotaviras was greedily suckling treemilk when he witted a fearsome din below. Thinking the Lashunta had spied him, he bolted down to the limb-deck, ready to flee away into the night, hooting and laughing as he had before. Yet then he smelled the Moqeva’s awful stench and halted, taken aback at what was happening. He beheld the Moqeva overturning precious vats of treemilk and ripping down cheeseclothes, which ran wastfully down the boughs and fell lost to the darkfloor. Also, he saw the Moqeva slaying the warriors, setting fire to the huts, eating babes, and taking Lashunta in chains to become larder-thralls.   Then a Moqeva archer, unhindered in the night-dark, spied Shotaviras above. It drew, loosed, and shot an arrow, which hit Shotaviras’s shoulder. With a roar he fell on a hut, broke through the roof, and landed on a crew of Moqeva ransacking the inside. Fiercely Shotaviras swatted left and right, roaring the whole time as only a wounded Shota can do, and struck the Moqeva down and dead. Yet while he struck, a Moqeva sword’s barb broke off in his paw. It hurt him painfully. With another roar he fled down the tree-beam, limpingly climbed down, and fell tumbling to the darkfloor. Then he fled, favoring his wounded paw, roaring dreadfully through the darkness.   Tess the maiden had been away hunting and was late returning. She heard Shotaviras’s fearsome bellow and bewared something amiss at the treehold. Warily she came and beheld her folk taken in bond, the warriors dead, the huts aflame, and the Moqeva hissing triumphantly. They spied her and gave hunt. Yet Tess fled on her long swift legs, halting only to turn back and shoot arrows at her hunters, though they were too many. She leapt from limb to limb and beam to beam, though ever the Moqeva came hungrily after.   At last she climbed down to the darkfloor and crept among the ferns and mushrooms, quiver empty, almost dead with weariness, even while the Moqeva’s snarls and hisses still followed. She stole into a brake when she stopped in fear and shock, at sight of a great bull-shota, the largest she had ever seen, crouching hidden among the ferns. So forecaught she was that she froze and did not move.   Now Shotaviras had come to rest within this fern-brake, for the arrow in his shoulder was poisoned and was weakening him, and the splinter in his paw hurt him awfully. Groggily he beheld the slim Damaya stopped before him. If he had been hale, he would not have feared anything, not her, not with her battered bow and empty quiver. Yet he was sick and weary. Though hurt and angry, when Tess made no move and gave no threat, he paused, maybe sensing her weariness like his own. Yet then he caught again the awful Moqeva stench of those who still followed Tess. They came into the brake and spotted her. Yet before they could shoot arrows or throw nets, Shotaviras gathered all his anger and all his last strength. Then with an awesome roar he leaped among the Moqeva hunters, scattered them like warrior-pins, and bit and shook them like swiftreavers with broken necks. The last Moqeva fled back to their raid-host, fearing for the great wrathful Shota, who they thought afterhunted them.   Then Shotaviras triumphant in the fernbrake staggered, too weary even in his pride. Softly Tess came up to him. She wondered on his wounds, the dreadful arrow in his shoulder, and how he clutched his paw. She drew near and crouched before his great snout and spied the painful splinter. Tenderly she plucked it out. At this small kindly deed, Shotaviras wept.   He and Tess gazed into each other’s eyes and together found saeahi, mind to mind. Tess felt all his pain, all his shame at the proud Shota being brought low by his wounds, and all his anger at the hurt the Moqeva had done him. Shotaviras felt all her fear, all her love for her clan even now being led away as the Moqeva’s larder-thralls, and all her anger at being unable to help them. Then they witted they shared the same foe.   Tess drew the arrow from Shotaviras’s shoulder. She sucked and spat the poison from it and set a poultice from mosses on the wound. Then Shotaviras slept with his great head upon Tess’s lap while she soothed his brow and sang songs, which entered his mind through their saeahi until he knew all about the Lashunta and her clan.   When he awoke, healed of the poison, he looked to her and mind-spoke: “Now your pack is my pack, little Damaya. We shall net let the stinky foe take your folk away. We shall not let them become meat within the warrens.” And Tess answered: “Let us track them and follow.”   So agreed, the went back to the treehold wrecked and empty. Yet Tess found an axe and a spear and filled her quiver with new arrows. Then Shotaviras set nose to the spoor, and together they followed afterward.   Shotaviras leaped and bounded from ground to stump to ground again, and over ferns and under mushroom-trees and soon left Tess far behind. She called for him to wait, which impatiently he did. “I have not your speed,” she chid, whereat he answered: “You must be swifter, little Damaya.”   Tess eyes his mighty thews, his limblike girth, outweighing even five Korasha. “Are you strong?” she asked.   “The strongest!” he roared.   “Then carry me,” bade Tess. She leapt upon his back and clamped her legs on his girth, right behind his shoulders. First Shotavirs twisted his head around to behold his oddness, for he had never been ridden, as neither had any Shota ever before. Yet he found he could bear her slightness easily. When he again set off after the spoor, she rode upon his back and no longer fell behind.   All night and all day they followed the Moqeva and their Lashunta thrall-coffle to the deepwood’s edge, and all night again when the spoor turned southward along the moor. At last, near dawn, they came upon the Moqeva camped, feasting on fresh Lashunta flesh, and Tess’s clansfolk, who were lying in chains, weeping, and wishing to die from any other doom than to feed their Moqeva captors. Tess saw her kin and wept from sorrow and anger.   Out on the moor grazed a herd of duckbills. Tess spotted and pointed them out. “Can you scare them?” she asked, whereat Shotaviras chuckled. “Easily,” he answered, grinning his great sharp teeth.   Then Shotaviras stole out on the moor, through the tall grass, and circled around the Duckbills. He crept near, and then loosed a great, dreadful roar that frightened the whole herd. They scattered this way and that way. Yet Shotaviras, instead of trying to slay one, ran outside their path, hooting and roaring as loudly and fearsomely as he could, and so drove the Duckbills toward the deepwood’s edge, right at the Moqeva’s camp. The Moqeva bewared this din and saw the stampeding Duckbills. Though she snarled and shot arrows, nothing can sway a Duckbills’ stampede. So they forsook their camp and fled, trying to avoid crush under the Duckbills’ thundering hooves.   Meanwhile the Lashunta, bound and chained, lay fearfully in a hollow within the camp, where the Moqeva had set them for easy watch. After the Duckbills passed, Tess stole near, much to her kin’s joy. Then she took her axe, struck their chains, and freed them. Hastily, the Lashunta stole from camp and fled back toward the deepwood.   Yet the Moqeva raiders bewitted their prizes’ flight. Hissing wrathfully, they came back to camp and readied to afterhunt. Yet bold Tess warded her kin’s flight. On a knoll she knelt, nocked arrow, and shot once, twice, and thrice while the Moqeva brunted forth, and once, twice, and thrice Moqeva fell shot. Then they hastened upon her, and she had not time to shoot, but instead grabbed her spear and readied to sell her life so dearly as she could with Moqeva deaths, even as they readied swords and fangs.   But from the moor dashed Shotaviras swift and fearless. With a mighty bound he landed among the foe, swiped bloody claws right and left, and slew Moqeva. His roared deafened and filled them with dread. Before his charge they fled. Ere they could rally, Tess leaped again upon his back, and they bounded together into the deepwood.   Later, they looked back and bewared the Moqeva afterhunting. Though far behind, they were still many, and Tess feared for her kin, wounded and weary as they were. “They cannot match your speed,” she said, to which Shotaviras answered: “Nothing can!”   Then Tess spoke: “So let us harry them. Though we are but two, they cannot catch us, and we may buy my clan’s freedom.”   Then Shotaviras, with Tess aback, set off at a bounding lope and skirted the Moqeva hunters. At every leap, Tess shot, first forward, then leftward, and then rearward, and every arrow found a Moqeva eye, throat, or heart. Together they harried one side then the other. The Moqeva could not catch them, nor even shoot back, so swiftly Shota and rider came, and if ever a knot of hissy, snarling reavers stood in their way, then Shotaviras mightily leaped among them and knocked them away, all while Tess shot arrows right down their scaly throats. At last the Moqeva quailed and forsook their raid. They fled southward in craven fear, while Tess laughed and wept, and Shotaviras hooted and roared a mighty bull bellow.   Then they found Tess’s kin, who first looked fearfully on this wild bull Shota. Yet Tess bade them peace, and Shotaviras pranced softly among them and let the children pat his snout. All wondered at this oddness, for never before had a Shota treated peacefully with Lashunta. “Fear not,” said Tess. “Our clan is now his clan, and so also shall it be with his pack. Lashunta and Shota are one now.” Then the Lashunta prayed to Green-Mother and gave thanks that she had sent the Shotalashu as blessing to them.   At the next blight-tide, when the Moqeva again came to raid, in hopes of fresh meat and more coffle-thralls to take back to their warrens, they found Tess and her clan waiting, and not only them, for word of Tess and Shotaviras had gone out to the other clans, who had gathered. As a great host they awaited the foe, Korasha eagerly waving axe and spear, Damaya keen-eyed overhead with arrows nocked and ready. And at their fore rode Tess aback Shotaviras as their queen. Then with a great roar Shotaviras called forth the Shota, and not only his pack but all the deepwood packs, for as the greatest and mightiest Shota, all others answered to him. Then Lashunta and Shota rushed forward, fell upon the Moqeva and slew all who either stood against them or tried to flee. Then the folk rejoiced in victory. They swore never to flee or cower before the Moqeva ever again, and to hunt down their foe, burn out their warrens, and slay every last one until the ends of the earth.   Tess ruled as Queen of the Lashunta for a hundred and eighty years, and every year she and Shotaviras led the warriors against the Moqeva. She took Shotaviras as her mate and bore a score of daughters, and each Damaya took a Shota steed, became queen of a tribe, and passed the Shota-bond down to her daughters, and all Damaya afterward, until the Lashunta and Shotalashu could no longer be stopped.   Tess fell from a poisoned arrow while fighting a Moqeva raid. When she died, Shotaviras, howling sorrowfully, lifted her body in his jaws and carried her into the deepwood. They were never seen again.