The Primeval Era-Chapter 53: Beast’s Mantle! I

Honor.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it ever since Uncle Adam had mentioned it, because his Ama had talked to him at length regarding this very subject when he was young.

How the Lands of Stone were filled with those that were without honor, and if one could live honorably, do some good and help those in need, the Lands of Stone would pay them back. The Ancestors watched, she’d said. They kept tallies that mortal eyes couldn’t see. They rewarded those who deserved reward and punished those who deserved punishment, even if the timing of such justice seemed impossibly delayed to those still walking the endless rocks.

But...

’Ama, you were the most honorable, and what happened to you? Why did the Lands of Stone not pay you back?’

"..."

He was divided when it came to the idea of honor and being honorable, because in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but ask himself whether the Primordial Tongue was one way the Lands of Stone had paid back his Ama through him.

A gift given to her son because she had lived with such grace.

A power bestowed upon her bloodline because she had earned it through kindness in a Land that crushed the kind.

He sighed as he didn’t know the answer and probably never would, but he looked out across the Purple Stone Tribe that seemed to be bustling with activity, as if the deaths that had occurred recently were all but forgotten.

The dead had joined the Ancestors.

The living had to continue on.

This was the way of the Lands of Stone, and it had always been the way.

And right now, it seemed like Grandmother Essun was busy, because she had directed the Tribesmen to begin erecting defensive walls around the entire tribe. Wooden stakes were being sharpened and driven into the earth. Stones were being stacked into barriers. Ditches were being dug at points where enemies might approach.

The old Wisewoman stood at the center of this chaos like a general commanding her troops, her gnarled stick swinging with far more force than her bent frame should have been capable of producing.

CRACK!

The stick connected with the back of a Warrior who had paused to catch his breath, and the man yelped with surprise before scrambling back to his task.

"Get a move on!"

Grandmother Essun’s voice cut through the morning air like a blade.

"Otherwise everything and everyone you know will be destroyed! Build! Build!"

...!

Her voice was shrewd and commanding, the voice of someone who had seen too many tribes fall to complacency and refused to let this one join that number. She seemed to have aged backward since the events of last night, her bent body moving with purpose that belied her years.

She lit up when she saw Damian and Uncle Adam approaching, her yellow-toothed smile spreading across her weathered face as she hobbled toward them with surprising speed.

"Tokoloshe!"

She planted her stick in the ground and leaned on it with theatrical exhaustion that fooled no one. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

"The Tribe has decided to let the Chieftain rest, as he’s taken enough beatings recently. Everyone has unanimously agreed that you, Tokoloshe, are the acting Chieftain."

....!

Damian smiled at such words and shook his head, because he knew exactly who had orchestrated this "unanimous" decision.

"Did they now?"

Grandmother Essun nodded shamelessly, not even attempting to hide her machinations.

"The weak tend to gravitate toward the strong. This is simply the rule of the Lands of Stone, Tokoloshe."

She tapped her stick against the ground for emphasis.

"You can reject it. Run from it. But you’ll somehow find it continuing to chase after you, that distinction of leadership. It follows power like shadow follows flesh."

...!

She said these words as wisely as she could, her ancient eyes glittering with knowing amusement at his obvious discomfort.

Damian didn’t want to get drawn into this debate again, so he simply moved past it.

"We’ll see about that, but for now, I need everything on the Golden Tribe. To make sure things don’t repeat themselves, we may be setting off soon to nip all issues in the bud."

He glanced toward the Roaring Stone Mountain in the distance, its peak shrouded in that perpetual purple mist.

"I do want to get my morning cultivation in first."

Yes.

When he’d woken up this morning and even after enjoying the glorious meal, he’d felt no tiredness from that terrifying letter of the Primordial Tongue. That invisible muscle in his mind had recovered completely, and he felt like he could use it multiple times if necessary.

So before he even set off toward enemy territory, he saw fit to climb the mountain and cultivate in the rich Mana there, drawing in as much as he could inside his body while continuing to heal and reinforce himself as needed.

His own Vakochev’s Doctrines demanded constant feeding.

And he intended to feed it well.

Grandmother Essun smiled brilliantly at his words, her bent form straightening slightly with approval.

"I’m glad to see that you’re a smart and vengeful ghost, Tokoloshe. I’ve already begun gathering information for you from all the Tribesmen who have any knowledge of the nearby tribes and the layout of the geography."

She turned and gestured with her stick.

"Come, let me show you something."

---

Damian and Uncle Adam followed the Wisewoman through the bustling village, past Tribesmen who paused in their work to bow their heads or offer murmured greetings of "Tokoloshe" as they passed.

They made their way toward the hut that was normally reserved for the Chieftain, the largest structure in the village with walls of stacked stone reinforced by timber and a roof of layered thatch thick enough to keep out the heaviest rains.

Outside the hut, the Chieftain was currently surrounded by Tribesmen who had come to pay their respects and offer their support. Ayala sat on a stone bench, his face still swollen and discolored from the beating he’d endured, but his one functional eye was alert and his posture held the dignity of a man who refused to let his injuries define him.

His daughter hung close to him, Elena’s fiery hair catching the morning light as she tended to her father with a gentleness that seemed at odds with her usual boisterous energy.

She turned as Damian approached, and her gaze held something that made him uncomfortable.

Gratitude.

Deep, profound gratitude that she couldn’t quite put into words, mixed with something else that he didn’t want to examine too closely.

She didn’t leave her father’s side, but that look said everything she couldn’t say aloud.

Damian smiled back at her, a brief acknowledgment, before continuing to follow the Wisewoman into the Chieftain’s hut.