Valkyrie's Shadow

Chapter 10

26th Day, Upper Water Month, 0 CE

Dozens of warbands trickled in over the next day, gratefully taking shelter within the embankments and dry shelters raised by Karuvaki and the other casters in Saraca’s entourage. Despite making their way through kilometres of waterlogged jungle and forest, they appeared wet and miserable coming in, but otherwise in good condition. Of their Jorgulan pursuers, there was no sign.

“They can’t just be letting us go like this,” Rana Saj snarled over the roar of the nearby waters.

“It’s difficult to detect anything in these conditions,” Saraca said. “Hunters can see much, but they cannot see below the water’s surface.”

The way ahead had been scouted as well, with Kasturi and her Gladestalkers reporting little of note beyond the destruction wrought by the out-of-season torrent. Everything pointed to another possibility that he hadn’t considered before.

“This plan of theirs clearly doesn’t flow along the lines of Green Dragon thinking,” Saraca said. “That Yeti Lord is probably responsible for most of what’s happening.”

“I find it hard to believe that he could convince Dragons to work for him,” Rana Saj said.

“It’s not as far-fetched as you might imagine. To many, Dragons are legendary beings, but they are in reality just another Heteromorphic race. They have goals, desires and preferences much like any other.”

“Well, manipulation is unnecessary in this case. We’ve been treating the Yeti as side players in this conflict, but if we assume that they’ve been directing most of this, the way the Jorgulan Front is being used changes drastically. The Yeti only need to convince the Jorgulans that working with them is in their best interests.”

The plain mismatch between the broadly passive nature of dragonkind versus the highly aggressive character of the ongoing Jorgulan assault had bothered him since the withdrawal had been called. If one put the Yeti Lord in control of the Jorgulan’s actions, however, several disturbing possibilities came to light.

“And what would ‘in their best interests’ entail?” Rana Saj asked.

“One possibility is that the Dragons are being paid to act out their part of the strategy, but I find that highly unlikely. The icefields of the Worldspine are not known for their wealth. Most likely is that the idea of a permanent occupation is being dangled in front of the Jorgulans.”

Rana Saj turned his gaze to the flooded forest below.

“Permanent occupation…of this pass?”

“Of Rol’en’gorek.”

“What?!”

The Baagh Lord turned an incredulous look on Saraca. Several of the warriors around them rose at the Clanlord’s alarm.

“I’m afraid I don’t possess the faculties to make that connection, Saraca,” Rana Saj said. “What led you to this conclusion?”

“It’s not a conclusion yet,” Saraca replied. “I’m just trying to figure out what would hurt Rol’en’gorek the most and how this Yeti Lord might achieve it. We would be fools to believe that it wouldn’t happen if it was possible.”

“Then what is it that you see?”

“I’m simply weighing benefits and detriments,” Saraca said. “The Yeti are in an advantageous diplomatic position. Yeti do not inhabit the same environment as the Jorgulans, so they’ll happily ‘concede’ territories that they have no use for. By the same token, this overcomes the single greatest obstacle when it comes to dealing with Green Dragons: trust. Both sides understand that there can be no lasting motive to betray the other – they are simply using one another to achieve their respective territorial goals.”

“So an extension of the idea that you presented initially.”

“Yes. Tell me: how far to the west does the Worldspine extend?”

“That would depend on what you define as the Worldspine, but the mountainous wildland stretches all the way to the territory of the Wyvern Rider tribes beyond our northwestern border. Glaciers and icefields can be seen for most of that distance.”

Well, that’s a problem…

Without the means to counter Control Weather, Rol’en’gorek’s northern frontier was at the mercy of the Yeti. Saraca’s mind worked to identify potential solutions, but his lack of familiarity with the region only left him with vague ideas.

“Is an alliance with your northern neighbours possible?” He asked, “The Yeti are a common enemy in this case.”

“There is no account of anything resembling ‘diplomacy’ with the wilderness tribes,” Rana Saj answered. “Not even trade. They are entirely hostile to us.”

“What about Dragons? You have them to the east, south and southwest, but not the north?”

“We’ve had no sightings of Dragons in the north in all of our history.”

“Giants?”

Rana Saj shook his head.

How can that be?

The only answer was that the Cycle of two centuries ago wiped them all out. Saraca had only ever come across evidence of one other calamity that was so universally thorough, and even that hadn’t been over such a wide area. At least they hadn’t ended up like the countries around Mount Keitenias.

“Revisiting an old idea,” Rana Saj said. “How would killing their ritualists affect their ability to influence the theatre?”

“That’s a good question,” Saraca replied. “It might not help you right at this moment, but it would definitely give them second thoughts about doing it again.”

How the Yeti would recover from any losses of powerful mystics depended on how they cultivated them in the first place. Access to magic of the Third Tier and above was something of a puzzle for many Demihuman species. Many self-reliant Demihuman societies eventually developed a rudimentary ‘mystic caste’ that had strict rules for what behaviours its members were allowed to engage in. This helped tremendously in producing individuals capable of Third-tier magic, but those capable of the Fourth were still exceedingly rare.

There were other avenues, just as breeding specialised lineages and working with other races, but they saw no evidence of that amongst the Yeti tribes.

“If we do it enough,” Rana Saj growled, “they won’t be able to do it at all. We just have to figure out effective ways to pull it off.”

Saraca nodded at the Rana’s resolute statement. Rather than bemoan their situation or cast blame upon others, he simply did his best to address the problem. It was proper conduct for the ruling warrior caste.

They remained at their camp for an additional day, which had Karuvaki and the other casters turn the craggy island they were sheltering on into a respectable – albeit cramped – fortress. When the trickle of warbands coming to join them came to an apparent end, Rana Saj almost looked hesitant to move on.

“I’ll have to get my mystics to figure out how to do this,” the Rana said as he looked down at the network of well-drained trenches and stone bunkers. “It seems that anything goes with magic.”

“Some avenues of development are more useful than others,” Saraca said. “I’ve seen more than my fair share of crazy ideas that go nowhere. Still no sign of the Jorgulans?”

“None,” Rana Saj replied. “We’ve consolidated into a dozen positions along the treeline and none of them have come under attack. You’d think they’d be using this opportunity to drop more Ka’ak on us.”

“That’s just the way things are sometimes. What may seem obvious to one side is not to the other. We also don’t know what their circumstances are or whether there’s something else at work here.”

Though it was early morning, the magically-induced weather kept things dark. While Rana Saj’s forces had rested, scouts went to pick out the most stable route west, leading them over a less-than-reliable-looking route of stone recently exposed by the hundreds of mudslides caused by the flooding. When they crossed into the area affected by Control Weather, they were thoroughly soaked within half a minute.

“Remind me to thank our Druids that this never happens at home,” Girika said.

“A disparity in power has too great of an effect here,” Saraca wiped his soaked whiskers. “Sixth-tier magic turns one into a veritable god.”

He could only imagine that most who achieved Rathi-class levels of power in the region would quickly become full of themselves and try to impose their will upon others through brute strength. Or they would use their power to pursue purely selfish ends. It was one of the most understated aspects that defined the difference between those who lived in civilised lands and the savages that lived beyond them. Beings who believed that they existed independent of the world around them were some of the vilest individuals to exist, and they could be found everywhere in the unknown fringes of the world.

The first sign that something was amiss happened two hours into their slog through the relentless downpour – or rather, they were attacked.

An Ophidian lunged out of the water near during one of their crossings and latched onto a Ki’ra warrior. As the two combatants wrestled with one another, an Ichaani caught the struggling Baagh by the ankles and dragged him under the surface. Bullets splashed into the water as nearby Ki’ra warriors loosed their slings too late.

“Jorgulans in the water!” Rana Saj called out, “Keep crossing, but stay alert! Hunters, cover our people from the bank!”

The warbands rushed to organise themselves. Saraca eyed the line of hunters with a sense of growing dread.

“Rana Saj, no! That’s a tr–”

Hundreds of Ichaani exploded out of the rushing waters. They locked onto the Ki’ra hunters lined up neatly along the shore with their powerful claws. The warriors who reacted to assist them were similarly overwhelmed, disappearing into the churning waters. A second wave of Ichaani appeared shortly after, advancing up the bank block of the ford.

『Gladestalkers, can you hit them from here?』

“No problem,” Kasturi called out.

『Clear those crayfish away! We’re staying on this side until the rest of the warbands have made it over.』

His bodyguard tightened ranks, forming a defensive screen between the Gladestalkers and the nearby shore. Bullets whistled across the shallow ravine to smash into Ichaani, who were busy paying attention to the Ki’ra attempting to fight their way through.

Is that all there is to this ambush?

Not that it wasn’t bad enough. Nearly three hundred Ki’ra warriors had disappeared in seconds.

“Dragon overhead!”

He looked up just in time to see a winged silhouette moving through the low clouds. Half of the Ki’ra warriors broke and fled in all directions. Those that ran too close to the water were set upon by Ichaani and Ophidians waiting in ambush. A pair of large black objects plopped into the water upstream.

『Ka’ak in the water, coming our way!』

The two insectoids bobbed and swirled in the violent current, evading the first two attempts at striking them more through luck than skill. An Ophidian popped out of the water and grabbed one, cocking its arm to throw it at the warriors along the shore. A bullet found the Ka’ak before it could be released. The explosion washed over the water, too far to be harmful to anyone except for the hapless Ophidian that was holding the Ka’ak.

A second Ophidian appeared a few seconds later, attempting to throw the second Ka’ak at them. This time, a bullet turned its head into a spray of gore. The Ka’ak dropped back into the water and kept floating along. A third Ophidian picked it up and was subjected to another lethal bullet.

“Well, that’s sort of funny,” Girika said.

Two dozen Ophidians met their end attempting to throw the exploding insectoid before the Ka’ak harmlessly floated downstream. The Ki’ra warriors awaiting their turn to make the crossing could only laugh at the scene.

“Keep going,” Saraca told them. “We’ll cross last.”

The Jorgulan ambushers were suppressed not long after. He wasn’t sure how many were prudently staying underwater nearby. The Green Dragon didn’t appear again, but the threat that it represented to Clan Ki’ra’s warriors even without attacking directly was made clear.

They caught up to Rana Saj thirty minutes later. The Lord of the Ki’ra stormed forward, anger simmering in his silver eyes.

“Remind me why I thought they would be chasing us from behind.”

“A simple premise set by the opening skirmishes,” Saraca said. “Even experienced Commanders will fall for it.”

“But you realised what was going on,” Rana Saj noted. “As a veteran of this front, I should have seen it. I even talked about my son overcoming a similar ambush not so long ago.”

“I realised it too late,” Saraca replied. “Acting as a Commander when fighting multiple races is an extraordinarily difficult task. We came here to fight the Jorgulans, and then we were thinking about what the known Jorgulan races here would do when it was the Yeti who probably came up with the strategy. Then, when we switched to figuring out what the Yeti were doing, the Jorgulans did things their own way.”

It was a strength that came with forming coalitions of different races. Wildly different tactics, strategies and modes of thinking were part and parcel of having a wide variety of racial traits and behaviours at one’s disposal. It created situations that were difficult for Commanders to adequately process.

“I’m starting to dread the outcome of this withdrawal,” Rana Saj said. “If this is happening everywhere…”

If it was happening everywhere, Clan Ki’ra would be decimated. If the Yeti maintained ideal conditions for the Jorgulans year-round, Rol’en’gorek would not be able to retake the pass.

Their ascent eventually brought them to a point where the cumulative rainfall was insufficient to flood the waterways. At the top of the pass, Rana Saj visibly relaxed, letting out a tired sigh. Saraca, however, narrowed his eyes as he looked westward.

“We can’t stop here,” he said. “It looks like they’re flooding both sides of the pass.”

“When it rains, it pours.”

Saraca shot Girika a look.

“What are your flood countermeasures like, Rana Saj?”

“We get out of the way,” the Rana replied. “It’s supposed to be the dry season right now, so things shouldn’t be so bad.”

Assuming this is a short-term thing…

A two-day forced march finally saw them well below the treeline on the western side of the pass. They camped on a rugged hill familiar to Rol’en’gorek’s defenders, settling in to recuperate from their ordeals. Saraca kept his eye on the skies, waiting to see if the altered weather would persist.

Late that evening, while watching the churning skies away from the resting warbands, Karuvaki came out to join him. His second wife sat down on the boulder he had picked out for himself, leaning lightly against his shoulder.

“Do you want us to stop it?” Karuvaki asked.

“You know the answer to that question,” Saraca answered.

“Some may call it cruelty. The cold, unfeeling gaze of one who looks upon the struggles of others from above.”

“It is not our doing, and it is not our place to intercede. Besides, a crisis brings out the true nature of a society and its members. If we are to ultimately act in their favour, it’s the fastest way to come to that conclusion.”

Karuvaki and the other divine casters could, of course, conduct a ritual of their own to counter the ongoing Control Weather effect. One could even argue that they were simply restoring the balance of nature. Doing so, however, would add a foreign element – one that arbitrarily negated the efforts of other parties involved in the conflict.

“Well, you seem to favour them so far,” Karuvaki said. “At least those of the warrior castes.”

“And why not?” Saraca replied, “They may not be enlightened, but they still exhibit many positive qualities. It is always gratifying to discover that a people have already embarked upon a righteous path.”

“I don’t disagree,” Karuvaki said. “But remember our findings from before our arrival in Ki’ra. And remember what Rana Saj said when he invited us to accompany him on his campaign. Rol’en’gorek is far from a monolith.”

“Nor would I expect a country this large to be,” Saraca replied. “Let’s keep our findings partitioned, yes? The actions of the few should not damn the many.”

Those actions could just as well be driven by ignorance. Given the way that civilisation developed in Rol’en’gorek, he expected a fair number of practices that would be considered barbaric elsewhere.

Much to everyone’s relief, the clouds dissipated on the eighth day after their appearance. That in itself, however, left them with unanswered questions.

“Why didn’t they press their advantage?” Rana Saj said as they resumed their march back to Gor’lior, “I don’t know why, but it makes me angry that they didn’t.”

“Probably because you understand that it’s a wasted opportunity,” Saraca said. “But, one should not question their fortune too much, I think.”

“I still need to figure out what to report to the council. It’s going to be especially embarrassing since Rana Owiori will have probably delivered the recommendation for a bolstered offensive just before that. On that note, this puts us in a terrible position for the long term.”

Saraca nodded in silent agreement. It was too perfect of an arrangement for the Jorgulans. While the Yeti Lord’s gains in the Worldspine were a matter of great concern, greater still was the fact that the Green Dragons of the Jorgulan Commonwealth had bought critical time for themselves to grow more powerful than Rol’en’gorek could handle. So long as the Yeti and Jorgulans continued to cooperate, Rol’en’gorek would be stuck on the defensive.

“Well, who knows what time will bring,” Saraca said.

“Older Dragons,” Rana Saj replied.

He chuckled at the Rana’s resilient sense of humour.

“Your expansion to the west and resulting access to the sea will offer opportunities to cultivate strength through other means. Trade; diplomacy…who knows, you may find powerful allies that stand to gain from cooperation with Rol’en’gorek.”

“Perhaps,” Rana Saj said. “We are not of the mind that the world is so kind, however. Rol’en’gorek has always been alone.”

“There are many barriers to relations between nations to overcome,” Saraca said. “Especially if the respective races involved have differences that tend to put them at odds with one another. But the fact of the matter is that the world is home to many. Collaboration is often more efficient than conflict when it comes to achieving one’s goals.”

“What you say is difficult to imagine when the entire world is seemingly out to eat us, push us out of our lands or take advantage of us in some way.”

“It’s not an easy thing for a people to grasp, I agree. A proper sense of order is crucial. This is not as simple as saying so, of course. The Beastman Confederacy took many centuries to become what it is today, even with so many races coming together as its citizens. Seven hundred years ago, we were not so different from Rol’en’gorek.”

“Seven hundred years is a long time, Saraca,” Rana Saj said. “Enough for nations to rise and fall many times over.”

“Indeed, but it does not need to take seven hundred years. As much as I would like to say that it is only a matter of effort, however, it is just as often subject to the whims of fate. In a way, the powers in the central regions of the continent should be thankful that they have so many rivals to keep one another sharp.”

“Are you saying that it’s fine for Rol’en’gorek to have many powerful enemies?” Rana Saj asked.

“Enemies; rivals; competitors – they all serve to keep one from falling into decadence and decay. They are often more reliable than friends, in a way. Being constantly exposed to the truths of the world is instrumental to understanding what it is that truly matters. A society can drift very far from those truths as the generations pass.”

“And where would you say we stand, Saraca? How far are we from these ‘truths’?”

“I would say a few of them are smashing you right in the muzzle right now,” Saraca replied wryly, “but don’t let that blind you to the rest. There are many directions in which you might drift, and some drift so far that they attempt to deny reality itself. It’s not pretty when the world comes to dissuade them of their delusions.”

Understanding cosmic order and how it applied to one’s life was central to achieving enlightenment. It was a journey that lasted through the many cycles of one’s existence. Similarly, a nation achieving a state of enlightened order also had to constantly maintain it. It could be lost much more easily than it was obtained, and the chaos that followed such a fall was a hell in itself.

“That sounds like Draconic Kingdom,” Rana Saj said. “Putting up a desperate façade in order to dissuade its neighbours from visiting the ‘truth’ upon it.”

He still had his doubts about that. One did not simply tie the fate of their nation to a grand bluff. There had to be more to it.

They returned to Gor’lior over three weeks from the time of their departure. Saraca mostly left Rana Saj alone as the Lord of the Ki’ra saw to the aftermath of his all-too-brief winter campaign. Out of the thirty thousand warriors that set forth from the city of Ki’ra, only fifteen thousand remained. It was a crippling blow to Rol’en’gorek’s ability to support its eastern territories from militant incursions. At the same time, Saraca was certain it was merely first blood in a long, defensive battle against the Yeti of the Worldspine and the Jorgulan Commonwealth.

“And here I thought I would be peddling wares for the next three months,” Devi said when they gathered in their fortress accommodations.

“A certain furry friend has robbed you of that particular joy,” Saraca replied. “Clan Ki’ra will hold their positions on this side of the pass, but we’ll be heading back to Ki’ra with Rana Saj when he goes to deliver his report to Rol’en’gorek’s presiding council.”

“What happened?”

“Other people had plans of their own. We have a good idea of how the warrior clans here behave, so we’ll be heading back to the interior to see how the rest of the country acts. Back to the civilisation that you adore.”

“Such that it is,” Devi rolled her eyes. “I suppose I should be thankful that we won’t be camping out anymore.”

Rana Saj was ready to leave the fortress by the end of the day. With only his bodyguard to accompany him, they made good time on their return to Ki’ra. The events of the past weeks kept him too busy to attend to the mundane affairs awaiting him in his clanhold, but he did stop to offer hospitality to Saraca and his entourage.

On the eve of Rana Saj’s departure to Ghrkhor’storof’hekheralhr, the Baagh Lord invited Saraca to dine with him. Rana Saj received him on a balcony overlooking the city and the lake, looking a bit odd without the equipment he had been wearing for most of their time together.

For the first time, Saraca sensed the weariness caused by the burden on the Rana’s shoulders. His broad frame and striped tail drooped, and the expression on his face was one of a leader with no answers to his mounting problems.

“What a poor showing that was,” he muttered.

“On the contrary,” Saraca said. “You acquitted yourselves well, given the circumstances.”

“Even if that’s the case,” the Rana replied, “I don’t feel it. We were so confident that this winter would be just like every other. Complacent. Now, two of the warrior clans have been decimated with little to show for it. What a farce.”

“You cannot account for the unprecedented. Those who have the audacity to criticise you for the results are fools who would do no better in the same situation, and likely worse. All you can do is take what you’ve learned and apply whatever effective action you can devise. There’s no point in beating yourself up over the past – especially when you have a duty to face the future.”

Rana Saj remained silent as he gazed out over his city. A small amount of chaos erupted amongst the citizenry when those who moved down the receding riverbanks for the winter were suddenly forced out of their homes by unexpected flooding. It was not as bad as it was upstream, and it at least served as a warning for what might come.

The Baagh Lord’s brooding was interrupted by a handful of servants who brought in their evening meal. He seemed to shake away the malaise that had settled over him, walking over to a small table near the balcony railing.

“I wonder if my father would mind us using this table,” he said as he placed a paw upon the polished ebony.

Saraca walked over to join him, his eyes tracing over the table’s unadorned surface.

“Is there some significance to it?”

“My father often sat in this seat here,” the Rana’s paw went to rest on one of the chairs tucked under the table. “I’ve never seen the other occupied. When I asked him why that was, he told me that it was for a friend that he made far abroad. I suppose he made some silly promise to him – ‘you’ll always have a seat at my table’ or some such.

“He always spoke fondly of the Confederacy; regaled us with tales of his time there. Of the wonders that he had seen – a shining civilisation the likes of which we here in our jungle couldn’t even dream. Of a great ruler who took him into his hold and opened his eyes to what the future could bring. He even fought in a war with him, if I recall correctly.”

“That was before I was born,” Saraca said, “but my father told me of his time with Goro, as well.”

“So it’s all true, then?”

Saraca chuckled at the recollection of some of those tales.

“Well, I’m not exactly sure what your father told you, but they did end up on all sorts of strange adventures.”

“I see,” Rana Saj said. “I do not believe my father a liar, but I always wondered if those tales were merely stories spun to inspire his family to aspire to greater things; to look beyond the everyday life that we have here. What he spoke of was so much larger than us that we could scarcely believe it. And that longing that he has to see it all again – I just couldn’t understand…but I think I do now, if only just a bit.”

Rana Saj pulled out Goro’s chair, settling into it as he gestured to the seat across from him.

“You’ve saved my life multiple times now,” he said. “Not just my life, but the lives of tens of thousands of my people. We owe you a great debt, Saraca of Gond: you will always be welcome at our table.”

“I’m uncertain if I’ll ever be able to collect on that debt,” Saraca went and sat down across from Rana Saj, “so consider it a token of our friendship.”

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