The court had changed.
Stores and basins had been replaced by large flower fields, of all colors, that ran all the way to the wall. In just two days they had paved paths and planted trees that had yet to pierce the fresh soil. A vast garden with three pedestals.
Two of them were empty, but the kobels had already written their text. And since Tunu could not read, his followers had to explain.
The first closest to the tower was his. This one already had a statue, smaller than the other on the lower plateau. The second would be for Etelet. As he had once wished, his friend would be praised for the wealth he had brought to the tribe.
The third was for Tusali, the first kobel to get scales.
Kobels had already started bringing gifts, mostly food to put at those pedestals' feet even before the statues were put. And naturally, while the other two were neglected, his was almost buried under those offerings.
The scaled kobel wasted little time with all of that. He crossed the gate expecting to see, on the other side, the tribe's tents.
They were all gone.
The highest plateau was now a vast arena where the males came to duel. He saw them, several dozens forming groups, resting on the ground, cheering for those that sparred. The females, as usual, walked around with wine and fruits to mingle with them.
The shaman's hut, far at the other end of that plateau, was the only building left. Its quiet smoke contrasted with the cheerful crowd.
There were few fights. Kobels got up to look for an opponent, then once tired from the bout they returned to enjoy the day.
Those, for the most part, were not warriors.
But when they saw the scaled kobel, so weakened, walk past them their small talk died down. They would press him, only to be told to leave him alone. Soon he was the cause of more duels just for the right of standing by his side.
He paid no mind to those quarrels. His attention was squarely among the only group of warriors among that mass.
There was the chief, sit on the fence along other kobels while his warriors fought each other with ferocity. Those would not hold back and it was lucky their weapons were just wood or their wounds would have done more than make them ache.
They had fought so much here that the grass had turned to mud.
They heard the commotion Tunu's arrival was causing, stopped their fights to face their champion.
"Tunu." The chief greeted him.
The old kobel could hardly hide his discontent for the legend that walked, seen by all in this sorry state. But he kept that for himself.
And Tunu could not even notice it.
Savae was by the chief's side.
She had finally agreed to wear cloth and iron, but so lightly that it hardly mattered. In his eyes the fire stones that covered her skin were true scales.
He approached her, only to have the spearhead threaten his face.
"You." She hissed. "Let's duel."
"Leave him. He still hasn't recovered."
"That's his problem. We are warriors, I want to duel."
Tunu put his forehead against the spear: "I agree!"
At the very least the chief negotiated for him to get equipped before they fought. That gave him time to explain what he had missed.
With most tasks handled by the captives, the tribe had free hands. So he had ordered for everyone to become a fighter. Every day they would come here to train. For now their heart was hardly in it but soon they would all grow a deadly heart.
For a fighter to become a warrior, there were only two ways.
One was to feed. But that, even some warriors had still not come around to do. And there was hardly anything to kill to do so.
So the other was to fight the champion. In his absence, that meant Savae. Now it would be the both of them. And because no fighter would have the courage to face them, it would be the champions who would pick those they would fight each day.
"You understand?" The chief asked him.
Tunu nodded.
If anything he was grateful for the chief's scheme. That meant every day he would get to fight. And if his opponent died, that was raw flesh.
"But I don't want to kill my brothers." He remarked.
"You should. If they don't risk their life, those fighters will never grow into warriors. But," the chief added, "they are not your real target."
Captives.
The captives, too, were offered the honor to fight. Were they to win, they and their own would be freed. Then they would fight more to join the fighters. Then fight further to join the warriors. Each time against the kobels' champions.
Of course, the old kobel remarked, they had to win. Etelet had advised to let some do so, if only in a draw, to give them hope and encourage the others; and to spare most of the rest so that they didn't fear the loss too much.
Fights would decide who stood on top. Fights would let those on top feed.
"That is how we will follow the path of the wyvern."
"I see." Tunu nodded. "Those who die will be the weak, those who fight too poorly. This will strengthen the tribe. But it will also help the captives. I don't like that, Kreil, those savages should not be given a chance to rise."
"You told me to trust Etelet." The old kobel remarked.
"I hope he knows what he is doing! No, I know he does! Fine. But it will hard not to just slaughter their lot."
With that he picked the iron shield and spear, then headed to the field.
There, the warrior was waiting for him, holding nothing but a long sword.
Where she had found such a weapon, when it was forged, Tunu could not even start to guess. This was such an exotic choice it could only excite him. She had nothing but the plates on her shoulders to protect her, and just that one blade to oppose him.
For a moment he tried to feel his heart, how it beat, if it would help him win.
Its steady beat appeased him. It was a warm feeling of invincibility.
"You've waited for this a long time, Savae." Tunu defied her. "And I've never been so weak. So, what are you waiting for?"
She readied the sword near her head.
"I will cut your head and pierce your heart."
The other warriors all around mocked her. They already knew who would win and could not wait to see her thrown down. Some hoped for more.
Because she was so strong, they loathed her.
A second later they clashed. Tunu had the range, saw her parry his thrust, then swing to plain cut the spear clean and fall on him.
It was a natural reflex to want and push back that threat with his shield, but his arm got stiff. The scaled kobel watched her step to his side, turning, the sword swinging to hit the back of his neck. And his shield, kept back, barely rose in time to block it.
His neck had no scales. That strike would have cut it clean.
And already his feet had jumped back to avoid another thurst that would have pierced his exposed belly.
At the same time his hand, dropping the broken spear, seized that blade, cut itself deep on it and with a strength he thought gone, snatched it off her hands.
He didn't get the time to turn it on her: Savae had already lunged to smash against him and throw the kobel on the ground.
Her tiny claws cut into his neck, only leaving shallow wounds. That still made him gasp. She blocked the arm that held the sword but got bashed by the shield, wavered just long enough for him to make her roll and and force her to the ground in turn.
Just a second before he realized everyone had gone still, him included.
Her hand was still holding the sword at bay. The other held his neck, trying to press the claws in it for nothing by a tiny trickle of blood.
His jaws threatened to rip her throat open.
"Go on, coward! Do it!" She screamed.
There was something in her eyes just too raw, too primal for him to understand. Past hatred, an emotion that truly set her apart.
He dropped the sword, dropped his guard and because of that second of weakness, their struggle lit anew.