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Photo credit: Shikhei Goh
Dawn danced across the Meadow where the Knights of Service had prepared the training ground.
Thousands filled the field. On the ground, mammals and reptiles, amphibians and crawling insects, all in high spirits, called to friends, shouting victory to come. In the surrounding trees, fliers with feathered or gossamer wings twittered and tweeted, flittered and buzzed, vibrating the air with an electric hum.
The Lieutenant leaped to a highpoint. Silence fell.
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Photo credit: Scott Bauer
Inside the hive, Sam slipped into a small chamber out of sight around a corner. The first creature to exit a short while later was a darkly exotic female, the like of whom Clifton had never seen.
“Come with me,” she said as she walked past him.
Feeling his heartbeat in his wingtips, Clifton stammered, “Uh, sorry. I… uh, I’m… waiting for someone.”
“Yeah. Me.”
“You’re Sam?”
“Yeah. What of it?”
“Nothing,” he assured her. “It’s just that… well, I was expecting a… a guy.”
Sam crossed her top arms and stuck her lower fists on her hips. “You males are all alike. Andre didn’t tell you he’s my little brother, did he? Well, half-brother really; Mother used to travel. Come on.”
Sam interrogated Clifton as she hurried him through a maze of empty honeycomb.
“So what’s this war about?”
Clifton felt a need to match his speech to the speed of his legs. “This crazy tyrant wasp in The Arids calls himself General Hai and claims he’s the rightful King of Fen. He wants to take back the Hive and take over Bog and the Freelands, too.”
“Is he?”
“Is he what?”
“The rightful King of Fen?”
“No!” Clifton exclaimed. “The Hive has been in my family for generations. There was a wasp uprising against Queen Lilian’s mother a long time ago, and that became the Great War. Another attack happened recently, but it was personal.”
Sam turned left into an unoccupied reserve storage room and shot Clifton a pointed look. “All wars are personal against somebody, aren’t they? What about the rest of the Kingdom?”
Clifton stood tall. “We support the Queen. We’re free to live the way we want to — within the law — but nobody thinks the laws are unreasonable. We’re happy.”
“Except for the wasps, apparently,” Sam commented.
“No,” he corrected her, “including the wasps who are citizens. Only the Great War’s exiles were unhappy. In fact, my aunt is engaged to a wasp.”
“What?”
“We have good lives in Fen,” Clifton told her. “I can’t imagine not having friends from other tribes.”
“We don’t need friends from other tribes,” Sam countered.
That belief must be so old nobody questions it, Clifton thought. “See, that’s what’s changing. If the General comes to the Freelands, it’s going to be a lot easier for him to take over if he only has to fight one tribe at a time. First he’ll conquer the wasps, then he’ll move on to the bees or the voles or somebody else. His army is greater than any of your tribes alone. If you guys don’t help each other, the Freelands won’t be free for long.”
Sam’s brow furrowed. After a longish pause, she issued an order.
“Take me to this Alliance of yours. I’m signing up.”
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Photo credit: Peter Trimming
The voles came out of hiding when the Ambassador and the lieutenant arrived at the Watercress Ford.
“Thank you for meeting with us,” Lieutenant Terrance said as he shook Theo’s hand. “I’m sorry you’ve suffered such a hard loss. I understand Chester was very young.”
“Just a boy,” Theo said. A soft chorus of, “A fine boy,” “None better,” “So much promise,” and the like rose with nods from the surrounding voles.
“We aren’t as many as the wasps,” Theo acknowledged, “but we want to be part of the Alliance army, and make Chester proud. We just don’t think we’ll be much help on the battlefield.”
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Photo credit: Shikhei Goh
Lieutenant Terrance of Bog had his orders: build an Alliance army to defeat General Hai. He’d spent yesterday with Ambassador Arturo, visiting every Freelands tribe except the bees, explaining the importance of the Alliance and signing up recruits.
The first meeting on their list was with the Communal Hierarchy of Wasps. The air at the overflowing Arena thrummed an anxious whine when their ancient leader stood before them, clearing his throat with a rasp of coughs and expectorations.
“We are not accustomed to working with other Freelands’ tribes,” the elderly wasp began, “but when times change, they demand we change our ways with them. The Massacre changed our times. The Rebels who attacked us and killed our unborn have attacked others, not only in the Freelands, but in the nearby kingdoms of Bog and Fen as well.”
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Photo credit: Ann Kreilkamp
“How did Lady Lucy die?” Clifton demanded.
“She was undercover, gathering information from The Arids, and the General found her out,” the runner answered.
His vindication washed with tears, Clifton was adamant. “I knew Lady Lucy was loyal to the Queen! I need to tell Barry.”
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Photo credit: Katherine Ricarda
“What are you thinking?” Arturo asked Clifton.
“It should be easy — I’ll ask to stay with the Hiverarchy while I’m here. I can talk to the workers about the Alliance, and maybe start a… buzz.” They both grinned. “Kýrios may be the Most Revered, but he’s not a dictator, he’s an advisor to their Queen. He’ll listen to the majority even if he doesn’t agree, and he’ll share what he hears with her.”
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Photo credit: Steven Falk
They’d done it. The new Alliance Council had crafted an agreement every tribe in the Freelands agreed to honor. Well, every tribe but one. The Hiverarchy of Free Bees had declined all invitations to join the proceedings.
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Photo credit: Wallpaperpassion.com
“…and Lady Lucy is dead.” Queen Lilian repeated in disbelief.
“Yes, your Magnificence,” the drenched Hopper said as rain dripped from his antennae to the floor. “She didn’t know the Assassin had escaped from the Freelands and beaten her back to the Arids. The General caught her in her lie, gave the order, and the Assassin carried it out.”
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Photo credit: Nick Garbutt
“Excuse me, Ambassador,” a member of the newly formed Alliance Guard murmured to Arturo, “troops from Bog have arrived. A Lieutenant Terrance would like to speak with you.”
Momentarily diverting his attention from the Council’s discussion about observing different funeral rituals within the Alliance Army, Arturo replied, “Show them to the staging area and bring the Lieutenant here when he’s satisfied with his troops’ accommodations.”
On Arturo’s other side, Barry asked, “Da Knights are here? Would youse be all right if I go along to see ’em? Dis seems ta be windin’ down, an’ everybody’s gonna need some sleep soon, so how’s about if I come back dis afternoon?”
“That works for me, friend.”
Barry jumped out of his seat. In two leaps, he’d caught up with the Guard. “Lead the way!” he urged.
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Photo credit: Rasheed Bydousi
Having no weapon, Barry pulled a torch from the ground, and joined Clifton to take up positions slightly ahead of Ambassador Arturo and Prince Elliot. The dark shapes became three Knights surrounding a massive Stinger whose tail dragged behind him on the ground.
The crowd backed away leaving a moat of safety around the new arrivals. The Knights stopped a defensible distance from the Prince, pinning the prisoner down with the butt ends of their slicers.
Space, Time, and Raspberries 
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