Life Spice at the End of Peace

She often visited different types of people. As the warrior clan matriarch, she needed to understand people, personalities, and problems.

One particular group of warriors didn’t serve the War God. She could never figure out which god or goddess they did serve. They often talked of politicians and political strategy in addition to defensive tactics.

One evening, they sat silently in a forbidden zone stall. The mood was tense. It didn’t take a War God connection to know something was different.

“Evening all! What’s happening?”

One of the men answered, “Our home tribe may be under attack. We are waiting for the messengers to arrive both with news and potential changes in our orders.”

She looked around. She didn’t know them well, but there was a kind of camaraderie you had with anyone who could fight well. So she pulled up a chair. Talk was scarce.

A bird flew in and lighted on the table’s edge. Each man took in a sharp breath. The tall blonde with the blue eyes untied a vial from the creature’s leg and popped off the top. He pulled out a scroll; she could see the writing, and although she couldn’t read it, she was sure it was coded orders.

A Life Spice vial came up. Most warriors don’t like it because it dulls the senses and impedes responses. However, there were dire times when warriors would share Life Spice to take the edge off as courage was flamed.

She’d never really done any Life Spice. She felt sick. It was a forbidden zone stall; that meant children lived nearby who should never be exposed to Life Spice. Although she knew the consequences were stiff, she did accept a tiny portion; she knew she might never see the people at that table if the wrong thing happened.

Three of the four had no new orders, but the fourth, the man who’d opened the vial from the bird, began to pack his things. “It’s my people, they need me, I have to do my duty.”


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