They reached the clearing long before noon. The woods opened at the base of the hill, right at the muddy path that led from the source to the heights.
At their approach sentries made their horn blare, once and twice and three times to welcome back their champion.
And there was the hill they called a mountain.
Captives by the dozens worked on its slopes. Crude stone walls had given way to chiseled rocks and lime. Clay furnaces burned along the charcoal pits, just a few of them on the lowest slope where wéréns worked their art.
The group, dragging its wulver prisoners along, passed near them.
And there was a spectacle no tribesman would have imagined before. A woolen fawn holding a spear guarded captives at the only bloomery furnace. That fawn shrieked for the wéréns to work and those hissed back, furious.
Wéréns, those proud cat warriors, had been reduced to obeying the orders of a lesser one.
The fawn could beat them up all he wanted, they would not fight back. To do so would incur the kobels' wrath. And the guardian in turn was reveling in his newfound status. He bowed to the champion and his warriors, then went back to hitting the metal workers.
Captives guarding captives. It was the fragile balance Etelet had built, of rewards and punishments, that had truly brought the tribe its surge of wealth.
Further up finished houses mixed with the beams and rising walls of new ones. And further up again they had started to pave the muddy path with large slabs. Far from a luxury, it had become necessary to keep the treaded path intact.
The higher plateaus were just brimming with crowds.
Kobels came to greet their raid, helped the warriors remove the weapons and armor. They had brought drinks and food to rest on the spot. So while the captives were dragged away, the rest went to lie on the slope.
"Did they resist?! How many did you kill?"
The warriors boasted, but the one the females wanted to hear was their champion.
And he himself had learned to not be so selfish. So he too bragged about the enemy's cowardice, the glory of their plunder and the fear they inflicted.
They could not get enough of it.
"You are so tired!" One complained and started to massage him. "Look at your neck, it is so stiff! There, lay down. Bring some wine!"
"The one with honey! Which jar is it?"
They almost laughed at the abundance of it. Of course, they also had plenty of captives to serve it all but the kobels preferred doing that service themselves.
And he let them.
He would joke with them, flatter a few and remind them that the other warriors needed relief as well. A perfect champion for his perfect tribe. All felt perfect.
"Leaving already, Etelet?" A warrior sneered.
The apprentice nodded.
"I still have a lot of work. You all celebrate for me!"
They didn't wait for him to be gone to talk behind his back.
"Can't believe that hack is our shaman. Who is he even working for? The captives, or us? He spends all his time with the black fawns."
"I heard they keep him company at night."
"Freak! I don't know how you stand him, champion!"
Tunu offered a warm smile.
"I'm friendly with everyone!"
But inside, he was boiling. He had no friend but this young, careless kobel that the tribe scoffed at. And if he listened to that ravenous heart he would have spilled blood to defend his honor.
What the scaled lizard really wanted was to get up and head for the top already. He only stayed to please the group, to lift their spirit and ensure the tribe's cohesion. In other words, Tunu lingered among them to feel like he belonged.
But once they tired he took that as the excuse to go.
And to the females distressed to see him leave already he knew better than to disappoint them, but picked a few and offered them to accompany him. The others, while jealous, knew it could be their turn next if they did not complain.
The highest plateau still had only the tribe's old tents. Few really still slept there, so the space was mostly used for pens now.
This was also where the children played all day.
They rushed to see the legend pass through, stopped by the captives that served as nurses. Female kobels heavily scarred where the red stones had been.
He crossed the wall's gate, into the large court where the tribe had raised their stores. Benches from the last feast still remained on the grass, insects buzzing over a few leftover plates.
Elua was waiting for him at the tower's entrance.
The tower had grown to four floors. They did not dare build it higher for fear of seeing it collapse no matter its width. And no matter what, they had insisted that all of it, every room be reserved for none but their champion.
She timidly smiled as he approached.
Tunu greeted her heartily. He still had an arm around another female's neck but approached and nudged her all the same. And she giggled at his attention.
"Welcome home, Tunu."
"It's great to be back."
He was going to enter, stopped and turned back to the forgettable kobel. She was still holding one of the two wooden doors, waiting for the whole group to have passed.
He let them go to approach her again.
His eyes had caught the shimmers at her arm.
"Elua? What did you hide here?"
And he held that arm she offered him. For lack of jade she had used the emeralds he had found for her to engrave a dozen of them in tiny spots along that ugly red coat of hers. The wéréns had helped spike it with a golden tendril that curved to connect all of them.
It wasn't much. In fact, it was paltry. Had there been more, it would have clashed with the fur, so that was all she could do to better her looks.
Emeralds could not help her compete with the red stones the other females had adopted. Her father's gift had trapped her to this awkward color. But even gems could only do so much to hide her paltry curves and meager muzzle.
Still he could not help but kiss that arm at every gem and she got thrills.
"You're magnificent." He told her.
"You are not bad yourself."
"Will you have time for me tonight?"
"Why wait?"
"We have to be good guests." He whispered at her ear.
She watched him turn back and return among the females that had waited for him. Inside was the hall where warriors welcomed their champion. Inside was a loud crowd that always celebrated. A place of games and alcohol.
"Of course." She muttered but faintly.
Her hand rubbed the side his muzzle had skimmed. She was watching him join that crowd. There was no reason to close those doors, especially with the constant back and forth of captives forced to bring everything from the outside but she closed anyway.
He was so happy. He still showered her with kind words and attention. So those looks the other females gave her, those eyes that said she wasn't needed anymore...
She wanted so desperately to believe it was only her wild imagination.