Well, this might be the most blatantly my species has been brought up, but it’s certainly not the first time. Heck, that’s why I’ve been so hamstrung during my fights: while a normal Beast-tamer or Beast-whisperer or whatever would be expected to bring their companions into the fight with them, I haven’t been able to. Not because I wasn’t ‘allowed’ – technically – but more because winning with the help of others would have only ‘proven’ my ‘weaker nature’. At least Tarra seemed slightly embarrassed when she told me that. When Flower and Sticks agreed with her, I was forced to concede the point.

  Apparently those who use beasts to fight for them struggle at the best of times to truly prove themselves in the culture of samurans who hold individual strength as the highest goal. Relying on beasts means being vulnerable if they die or flee. The shaman’s control over spirits was considered slightly more worthy since the spirits could not be killed and it was also an indication that she had been blessed by the ancestors. However, the fact that she did rely on spirits meant that the reputation of the village wasn’t as high as it might have been with a different Pathwalker in charge.

  Given my different species and the fact that I have access to multiple different magics, all my Pathwalkers and Warriors who have been here before highly advised me to lean into my non-taming strengths.

  Prove that you are strong and can win even without access to your main skill and you will gain more reputation for yourself – and for us, had been Shrieks’ advice, and since all of the others agreed with him, I decided to take it. Apparently even the losses I had, which I could probably have won if I’d brought even Bastet in to help me, were good for my reputation – and therefore the village’s. That was because I put up a better fight than anyone was expecting and even almost won against one of the strongest Pathwalkers of the gathering.

  Now, faced with a rival with an axe to grind, seizing on any opportunity to take down her opponent, I can’t help but feel that my time of intentionally reducing my capabilities has come to an end.

  “The Hunt,” I repeat flatly, playing for time. What is the ‘hunt’? I ask my samuran Bound hurriedly over the link.

  It’s a different kind of challenge, Sticks quickly answers. One that does not put the two challengers head to head in a battle, but which sets their capabilities against each other in pursuit of a goal.

  “You do know what the Hunt is, don’t you?” the other leader asks, her tone patronising. “Any true member of the People knows of it,” she continues challengingly. I glare back at her.

  “Of course I do,’ I respond firmly, even as my own Pathwalkers continue to explain what the Hunt is to me – mental communication really is a bit of cheat. “What form of Hunt do you propose? Single, Pathwalker, or Warband?” I ask. The shock that flashes through her spikes at the revelation that I actually do know what she’s talking about is very gratifying. Take that, I say privately to myself. You’ve tangled with the wrong ‘prey-beast’.

  Unfortunately, she gathers herself together too quickly for my tastes.

  “Both Warband and Pathwalker versions would allow you to hide behind the strength of true People,” she sneers, her mouth gaped open in threat. “A single challenge will prove that you are nothing in comparison to a true member of the People,” she answers. I shrug, not bothered by her insults: I care nothing for her opinion.

  And honestly, if the information I’ve been told is anything to go by, perhaps this actually works in my favour since I have so many new Evolved as part of my ranks. A Pathwalker challenge would have applied to all Pathwalkers of both villages, and a Warband challenge would require at least half the Warriors we brought with us to join as well. A Single challenge only applies to the challenged and challenger and whatever resources they can individually command.

  A shame for her that, these days, I’m never truly alone. The thought sends a waterfall of warmth through me and enables me to meet her eyes completely unafraid.

  “Fine,” I agree. “A Single Hunt. Then, as the challenged, I will set the terms for the abilities used.” I eye her, letting the tension mount – and for my subtle Inspect to do its work. From what the other Pathwalkers say, technically I could deny any use of magic at all. That would make her job rather hard as a – hmm, interesting, another telekineses user – Pathwalker who specialises in magic. Far more difficult than my own task as a mixed magical and physical fighter.

  On the other hand, it would stop me from using healing magic and also wouldn’t be well-received by the rest of the samurans. From what my Pathwalkers have told me, if it had been a Warrior challenge, it would be expected. As a Pathwalker challenge, though, it would be questionable to the point of perhaps casting doubt on my capabilities as a Pathwalker. I hate politics, I complain mentally.

  “No restrictions on abilities used,” I decide. “Anything your abilities grant you is permitted to be used. As for physical resources, you can use any you personally have directed to be made, or collected, or which have been directed to be made, or collected as a result of your personal abilities, magical or otherwise.” The other leader seems incredulous, but not in a bad way. Instead, it’s like all her Christmasses and Birthdays have come all at once. Or whatever their equivalents are. I keep a straight face – it’s easier to hide my emotions when I don’t have spikes which reveal them to the world.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “And you think that your ability to do…whatever you do is enough by itself? That you have no need for healing potions or resources which you have not personally made?” she asks incredulously as if I don’t know what I just said.

  “Or have been made as a direct result of the use of one of my abilities, yes, I understand.” I agree easily. “And the same for you.” Trying to stay casual, I notice a Pathwalker standing with the other leader looking troubled. She leans forwards, perhaps to warn the other leader of something – she may have paid more attention than most to my Pathwalker name. Most appear to think that it relates to my use of fire or poison – perhaps she knows better.

  She fails, though. The other leader is too eager to, as she probably sees it, close the trap of my own making, and waves off her sister’s attempts to communicate.

  “I accept!” she exclaims, not bothering to hide her triumph. I notice the Pathwalker who was presumably trying to warn her displaying both fear and frustration. “I call on the lead village of the red tribe to set our task and be the judges.”

  “I object to the choice,” I immediately interject after a quick flurry of mental communication from my Pathwalkers. “On the grounds of bias. I call on the lead villages of the yellow and blue tribes to set our task,” I say instead. According to my Pathwalkers, there is no way for her to contest that since the villages I’m calling upon have no relation to ours. And by her clear frustration, the other Pathwalker wasn’t expecting me to know that fact and take advantage of it.

  It doesn’t take too much time for someone to run and fetch the leaders of each of the top villages for the blue and yellow tribes. The leader and I both stand where we are, having something of a staring contest while we wait. Of course, I’m being more productive than the other leader probably is: while I’m staring at her, I can also keep the mental conversation going with the rest of my group. I doubt she’s able to do that. And apparently, since I’m not obviously communicating with my group, she doesn’t feel able to do so either, once more waving off any who try to converse with her. Including the Pathwalker who might have seen through my trap.

  Finally the representatives arrive. I recognise the leader of the yellow tribe as being the one who defeated me in our fight. I didn’t fight the leader of the blue tribe: they were one of the villages we visited to offer tribute to. Both of them eye me and the other Pathwalker with no small amount of interest.

  “We have been informed that a Single Hunt has been called and that we are to be the ones setting the task,” clicks Pathwalker Water-caller of the yellow tribe.

  “Pathwalker Flying-blade, leader of the red tribe of the twelfth lower mountain, Pathwalker Tamer of the green tribe of the seventh upper mountain. Is this true?” asks Pathwalker Air-shaper of the blue tribe.

  “It is, Honoured tribe leaders,” we both answer, using their titles as the lead Pathwalkers of the strongest villages in their tribes.

  “What are the conditions?”

  As the challenged, I fill them in on what I have set. There is a long moment where the two tribe leaders put their heads together, their muzzles almost touching the other’s ears. I see more than a couple of glances sent my way, some mostly hidden mirth flashing across their spikes. A knot forms in my stomach. Of all samurans at this festival, I suspect that they would be the most likely to know the extent of my abilities – and thereby the gaping loophole I’ve left in my conditions.

  Apparently coming to a decision, Pathwalker Water-caller steps forwards.

  “We approve of the conditions set,” she says first. The knot loosens in my stomach as relief goes through me. “No aid is to be rendered to either challenger from any member of the People unless the challenger has a natural ability which entitles her to it.” She looks at both of us intently. “This is your last chance to back out of the challenge. After this point, you and your village will be Shamed as long as you are the leader if you choose to back out later. Do either of you wish to withdraw your participation?”

  It’s odd, but I get the feeling that Water-caller is actually rooting for me. Her question seems more addressed to the other Pathwalker than to me – and her emphasis on the ‘unless’ in her conditions seems like a warning to Flying-blade about the loophole I’ve left.

  Unfortunately for the other Pathwalker, she doesn’t seem to have noticed what I have, almost immediately reaffirming her participation.

  “I wish to continue with the challenge,” I agree too when Water-caller looks at me a moment later, the brief appearance of exasperation the only indication that my previous thoughts might have been right.

  “Then here is the task. On the longest night, we must always sacrifice something of great importance to revive the Bond between us and our ancestors. Your task is to find an object which exceeds in power the one we have already prepared. The object which is used in the ritual will win. If neither of your objects at least match the one we have already prepared, you will both be considered to have lost, and your villages will lose favour with all villages currently present.”

  “Are we allowed to see the object you have prepared?” Flying-blade asks with less confidence than she’d had before.

  “No,” Pathwalker Air-shaper denies. “We do not wish you to limit your search to something which only barely surpasses what we already have. We wish you both to show us what you are capable of. Any other questions?’

  I have one.

  “What is our time limit?” I ask. Obviously there is one: if they want to use the object for whatever this celebration is, we will have to return before then. But how long before the ceremony will they need us back?

  The two Pathwalkers exchange glances.

  “By the time the sun dips to touch the horizon on the day before the longest night, we must have the object within our claws.” That’s a bit more than four days, then. I can work with that.

  Seeing that there are no more questions, the two tribe leaders return to their own groups. The samurans who have gathered around us mostly disperse: the show is apparently over. I pull back to my own group: there’s a lot we need to discuss and decide before I get going.

  here!

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