Plainstalker, by Matt Gilbert

3870.CE

Xiunzii paused and sniffed the air. They couldn’t see her, but the hemicyon’s superior senses had found them. This close to the river, a mid-morning mist still clung stubbornly to the crops planted at the bottom of the glen. There was no sign of any farmer – a common occurrence on their great journey. People tended to abandon their homes instead of facing down an army. Life would return once they had passed through. 

A gentle breeze stirred the heavy droplets in the air, revealing the hazy silhouettes of the salamanders crouched in the roots of the great Zirama tree. Its graceful fronds dropped lazily to caress the water, and from any other direction they would have cleverly concealed their presence. But Xiunzii Plainstalker was smarter, and besides, she didn’t need to see her prey. She always knew where it was. 

These salamanders were strange. She had first encountered them one moon ago, when her scouting party were out mapping the paths for the Claw. Back home, the salamanders the Empire still encountered and fought skirmishes with were few in number, smoother and perhaps a little smaller. These new ones looked harder, with scales and different skin. Maybe something had happened to them? Rough. That was a good word for them. 

Xiunzii’s partner, Lyncheng, had captured one first. The pack was surveying land on the edges of the old salamander domain, across the great spine. The once-mighty city of Haelthorn, which had served as the gateway to the decadence in the west, had lain in ruins for centuries. It was earmarked as the perfect staging ground for the Claw. The salamanders, however, had returned. Determined to gather as much information as possible, Lyncheng had taken one of the salamander sentries in the night, and, under interrogation, the creature had revealed that the city was being refortified, presumably in an attempt to stop the glorious march of the Empire. The sentry did not survive the questioning, but Xiunzii could still see the look of fear in its eyes as it stared at them, like it had seen ghosts from the past. A mutant staring at a spirit. Strange times, she thought. Exciting. 

She would leave these two under the tree for now. It was enough to know they were there. Two more to add to the count. Lyncheng, Heishu and Jingkhora were out there somewhere, also making the tally. The Claw-splinter would move on, feigning ignorance of their foe. They would move past the small army hidden across a hundred locations in the hills, scattered alone or in pairs, and they would make their camp in the most obvious place along the route already planned. The salamanders would reform and strike in the night, when the Xirkaali were at rest, tired from their endless marching and far from home. 

But the ambuscade would fail. The salamanders would be trapped between the campfires of warriors fully alert and waiting, and the Plainstalkers and Wildfangs, patiently lurking behind. Biding their time. 

Xiunzii licked her lips and left the pair under the tree to their final hours. Let them enjoy their peace while it lasted. There was cleverness, but little honour in their plan. The Claw had encountered many obstacles in the months and countless leagues they had travelled, and this was another minor inconvenience. Nothing would prevent the great undertaking the Empire had chosen to embark on. 

Haelthorn would be taken as planned. Nobody could stop the might of the Xirkaali. 

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