Chapter 16
The night passed without attack. When dawn came, the jungle was quiet. Too quiet. The usual sounds of birds and smaller creatures were absent, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.
Alistair had not slept. He spent the night on the watchtower, his senses stretched thin, trying to feel any movement in the earth. The Graxians were out there, a pressure waiting to be released.
As the light grew, he saw it. A single Graxian warrior walked out of the tree line. He was unarmed, his hands empty at his sides. It was Borak.
He stopped halfway between the jungle and the walls. He stood still, waiting.
Alistair climbed down from the tower. Thora moved to his side, her spear ready.
"Should we shoot him?" she asked, her voice low.
Alistair shook his head. "No. This is what I hoped for."
He walked to the gate. Roric and another hunter moved to flank him, but Alistair waved them back. He stepped out alone, leaving the safety of the walls behind.
The morning air was cool on his skin. He walked toward Borak until they were standing ten feet apart. The Graxian looked older in the daylight, the scars on his face like a map of past battles.
"You came back," Alistair said.
The translation glyph flickered in his vision. Borak grunted in response. "The Earth-Shaker keeps his word. I keep mine."
He made a gesture with his hand, a sharp cutting motion. "The Clan Leader, Grok, he wanted to burn your walls. Crush your bones."
Alistair said nothing, waiting.
Borak's eyes narrowed. "I told him of the earth that moves. Of the power that does not break, but... remakes. I told him you let us live when you could have killed us."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the settlement, the watchtower, the workers strengthening the walls. "Grok is not a fool. He sees strength. But he also sees... opportunity."
Alistair felt a flicker of understanding. "What kind of opportunity?"
Borak pointed a thick finger at the ground. "Your land is good. Strong. But the Stonetusk lands are drying. The water tastes of stone. The hunt is poor."
He looked directly at Alistair, his expression unreadable. "Grok offers a choice. War, which will cost us both much blood. Or..."
"Or what?"
"Or an alliance."
The word hung in the air between them. Alliance. It was the last thing Alistair had expected.
"What would that mean?" he asked carefully.
Borak gestured toward the river. "We share the water. We hunt together in the lands between. Your people have magic with wood. We have strength with stone. We build together. We protect each other."
It was a generous offer. Too generous.
"And what does Grok want in return?" Alistair asked.
Borak's mouth twisted into something that was almost a smile. "He wants to meet the Earth-Shaker. He wants to see if your power is real. And he wants you to use it. To find water in our lands. To make the stone give life."
There it was. The price. He didn't just want peace; he wanted a miracle worker.
Alistair looked back at his settlement, at the faces of his people watching from the walls. He thought of the coming fight, the blood that would be spilled. Then he thought of Borak and Krog, walking away alive.
He had chosen the path of mercy. Now it had led him here.
"Tell Grok I will meet him," Alistair said. "At the halfway point between our lands. At noon."
Borak nodded, a sharp, satisfied movement. "I will tell him."
He turned and walked back toward the jungle, disappearing into the shadows.
Alistair stood alone in the clearing for a long moment. He had avoided a battle, but he might have walked into something more dangerous. A meeting. A test.
He turned and walked back to the gates of Vance Haven. The next move was his. And this time, he would need more than power. He would need wisdom.