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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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“…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: Igor Siwnowicz
“If you know who I am,” Sirehta replied bringing his face close to the speaking crack in the wall, “you have the advantage. Come out and let yourself be seen. You will come to no harm.”
Two twitching antennae and a round little head poked out from the crevice. Locking eyes with the viper, the oversized hopper scaled the wall to rest on a protruding stone at the top, facing the snake full on.
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Photo credit: C. Rumarosa
Flying to hang in front of Sirehta, the General scraped a sparking red powder from his back with a rear leg, and said, “To seal your commitment, each of you will submit to marking. Allow me to demonstrate. Pietro!”
Scuttling forward, the little Stinger stopped directly below him. The wasp descended to press his foot against Pietro’s back which began to sizzle and steam, leaving a grooved scar. The General rose, scraping his back again. It was only then Sirehta noticed the youth’s carapace bore countless identical marks.
“Is this agreeable?” the wasp asked.
Sirehta waited for each of his brothers to nod in approval.
“It is,” he replied.
Lowering his head, he resisted his instinct to snatch the General out of the air, and accepted the searing pain without flinching.
So it was with each serpent.
Instructing Sirehta to remain behind, the General divided the viper force into pairs and sent each team in a different direction.
“Your first assignment is to scout to the edge of the Arids and rid the region of any who don’t belong here. Report back to me at dawn.”
“How are we to know which don’t belong?” Cahret asked.
“Residents are marked. Report back at dawn.” General Hai retreated to the cavern without a backward glance, followed by his loyal throng.
The General’s response chilled Sirehta’s blood. Alone, he watched his brothers blend into the night until a tiny voice coming from a chink in the wall caught his attention.
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Photo credit: Fallout
Incautious, the voices grew louder and more distinct the closer the vipers crept. Cahret slithered up the side of a coarse rock wall to peer over its horizon onto a bed of chattering Stingers.
“…but the bat should’ve been ours — we held her down,” one complained.
“Yeah,” another echoed, “what’d that old Crone do she should get it?”
“Not so loud!” the largest ordered. “You want the General to hear you whining? He’s not gonna keep her around forever, and after he’s done with her, who do you think’ll be feasting then?”
“So we’ll get the old bat in the end, huh?” the first one gloated. Shrieking laughter pierced the sky.
Cahret slipped over the rocks to call through the darkness. “Can you take us to your General?”
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Photo credit: Graeme Skinner
While inky night trickled over the Arids, Sirehta and his brothers wound their way toward the enemy’s base. Wary of night fliers, they had watched the skies and seen only one owl who must already have eaten or had no stomach to fight a writhing nest of vipers-on-the-move for a tasty dinner.
The Brothers numbered 17. None had remained behind. All were proud to repay the King of Bog for his kindness and for the damage they’d caused before they learned the truth about the Rebels.
“Sirehta,” Brother Cahret began, “is this to be our life now, spying for a King preparing to go to war?”
Space, Time, and Raspberries 
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