A Catrovel Adventure: Part 3, Chapter 4

In which Lady Vaeol describes how she met a Formian Myrmarch.

From the Daylog of Vaeol-Zheieveil u’Zhasaele Zolaemaue be’Son

(continued from 10. Soelae, 24,541: 2nd Day Northbound from Qoaronaea...)
...The fight reached an odd lull while each side reckoned strengths. Rightfully we were outmatched. Yet the Formians halted at our fleet’s sight. Doubtlessly they feared the fleet’s land-stroke arear, should they try our stead at the neck. Conversely, the Formians could thwart our fleet’s landing, though at threat of our raid-host outbreaking to strike their flank. A lengthening stalemate grew.
Then came a lone shape from the Formian swarm, who climbed a small crag beside the neck. A great Myrmarch, almost big as a Shotalashu and rider together, shell-crest sweeping like a helm, glyphs twisting down her scales, such as my grandmother Eavol had slain two hundred years ago, stood at the crag’s far end.
There she rose to full height, and weaponless. We reeves overtalked this meaning and reckoned she wished a truce-speech. As outrider and also soulseer, the Captain looked to me. I swallowed my boldness, sat Ess, and outrode to meet the Formian.
Semuane and Oshis rode as host to the crag’s foot. There, under sight not only of the lone Myrmarch staring buggily down, but also both hosts, I kissed them both. Then I handed Semuane my swordbill and sword, and then bade Ess climb the crag. Gamely we scampered upward, though my worry set him on edge. We reached the cragtop and beheld the Myrmarch awaiting.
Again I overlooked her shell-whelmed head and body, and the glyphs etched thereon. Quoth the Southerners, Formians so bewrite their deeds and rank upon their bodies. Unshakingly, this Myrmarch’s shell was so etched down to her spindly feet. Though she bore no weapon, I beminded her tail-stinger bowed high. If this outcame a trap, then I reckoned I had Ess to even the odds, and we should sell our lives so dearly as we could.
Ess halted about ten strides from the Myrmarch. I doffed helm under arm and looked with eyes unhindered. Likewise did the Myrmarch, though her inborn shell on brow and cheeks stayed. I then bewitted I had given no thought on how to begin this speech. So I stretch forth my antennae, felt for her mind, and merely bade: ~Limi:~ “Speak.”
The Myrmarch’s antennae quickened such as mine. After a breathtide’s stillness she outthought: “Acknowledge: Foe.”
The word-order shortly threw me, though I made its thought. In answer, I gave back: “I acknowledge you, Formian. You sought this truce. What do you wish?”
The Myrmarch’s answer bethought much like so: “Foe come to Hive homeland: outcome wreck. Foe’s showforth: bane.”
To this word I answered: “Our kinds have been warring for whole times. We will reach no agreement here on wrongness or rightness. Now what do you wish of us?”
A long breathtide the Myrmarch stared, almost such that I feared she might strike. Then she said: “Hive-strength: Foe outmatched. Yet Foe’s strong stead. Fight outcome: high death-toll for both sides; meanwhile, Hive-workers’ deaths ongoing. Foreword putforth: Foe withdrawal from Hive-Island. Putforth outcome: fight ends.”
A thought dawned on me that the Formian was bargaining a truce. I overlooked the field and beheld our ratherly steads. Then I spoke that the Formians should withdraw their strength from the neck, and that our boats would land on the beach under the headland and off-ferry our raid-host. Here she halted reckfully. Then in a beck almost Lashunta-like, she nodded. “Agree: Foe,” came her mindword.
Then she backed away and scuttled down the cragside. Soon as she did, I headed Ess backward, and we hastened to our lines, where the reeves waited. Hastily I outlaid the truce and bade them seek sight of the Formian withdrawal. The Captain asked whether I would stake my life on the Myrmarch’s word. I answered that, if she proved me false, I would ride in the rear-ward’s first row, and that from our steadsip either we all would outlive or die together. She looked me keenly, and then bade me farseer-bode the fleet.
Not a scoretide later, the Formian forward host, but a hundred Shota-strides away, slowly withdrew. Soon as so, the Captain sent word to the headland to bring the host down to the beach, though we kept the rear-ward instead at the neck. I stayed with the rear-ward, for I weighed my nameworth on this truce’s stake. As if to mark my belief, my flag came down the neck and also joined the rear-ward. Together, a wrackful belltide crawled by, with nothing to do but watch the buglike foe, who stood still and stalwart.
At last, down from the headland rang a horn, boding the host was withdrawn. The rear-reeve bade us head upward. I bade my flag go along, but asked leave to stay until last as the truce’s proof. So while all others dashed up the headland, I rode Ess out ten strides forth and sat sharp, bill-butt in stirrup, head high. I listened to the tread of Lashunta feet and Shota’s claws fade behind.
For the first time, the Formian rows, latterly so still, rustled as if eager. I full-witted I was the last Lashunta outstaying, should they choose to brunt forth. Yet almost as quickly they stilled and again took watch. Nigh a thousand weaponed bugfolk with gemlike eyes stared at me. Instead, a lone Myrmarch strode forth. Though I could not tell, I believed her the same whomwith I had spoken. She took a stead straight over from me, where we watched each other.
At last, a horn blew arear, boding the withdrawal’s fullness. Witfully I loosened, bethinking at least our raid-host was safe. A quick glance shoulderward showed me the herald atop the headland, wildly waving.
I headed my gaze back to the Myrmarch, who watched me still. I rode forward showfare-wise. Then I raised high my swordbill, hailed, and wheeled backward and bade Ess dash up the neck. I awaited a crash, screech, anything bewarng the Formians’ afterhunt. Yet an eery stillness overstayed. Nevertheless, Ess and I rode so swiftly as we could. Atop the neck the herald fell in beside, and together we dashed for the edge and took the path down to the beach. At shallow anchor our ship waited, to which our Shota swam out. Then we climbed the boarding net and got adeck.
While we got under sail, I looked upward to the headland we had right forsaken. Already Formians were swarming atop: watchers looming along the edge. I sought sight of my Myrmarch while we sailed away.
A week’s sailfare brought our fleet back to Ofu Vou, where soon I found myself answering before a Captain’s Doombench as to why I had willingly dealt with the foe, to which I answered I had so done with my captain's leave, and moreso had striven to save our raidhost’s lives when we had forelooked almost sure doom, however bloodily we might sell our lives for, under the Formians’ swarm. For my shield-fellows’ sake, I begged no forgiveness. The doom-bench offlet me, though I got hint, dolefully from the neighborly Valmaeans, that they misdeemed any speech with the foe, nowise the sake. Yet the Qabarata and other allies who had followed our raid softly thanked me. If I had saved a thousand Lashunta at dearth of letting a like thousand Formians outlive, I shall go to my my days’ end at peace with my soul...