As the sun set on the day of our battle with the Obsidian Order, the depleted remnant of the expedition made contact with a hunting party of the Gray Birch Bahab. These hunters found our arrival highly unexpected, and did not immediately believe the tale I related through my limited grasp of their language. Instead, in the morning one of them ran out to seek out the pile of burned thralls laying upon the mountainside. This gruesome vista banished all doubt, and thereafter we were conveyed in haste to the main village of the tribe and ushered into the presence of their chieftain. My knife, which had been bent and broken through repeated strikes against the hardened neck of the dominator, was given to the chieftain as a trophy. He replaced it by giving me the blade he was carrying at his own belt. A feast was set out, and it was necessary to relate the events of the conflict repeatedly, until all of the Bahab were satisfied. This tribe was not friendly with the wizards in the least, for they lived in proximity to a number of high slope Sunfire Cult communities and clashed with them bitterly each winter. The wizards often offered strength to the heretics, and their enhanced blows claimed many Bahab lives. As such, for the destruction of the dominator and much of the Order's local strength, we were feted as heroes. Despite such welcome, I felt little happiness, being subsumed by regret for all those lost valorous allies who could not join in the celebration.
Walled in by a stout palisade and featuring a number of the compact tents and wind-break outbuildings utilized by the semi-permanent settlements of the Bahab, the village was nevertheless a poor place. The locals wore old clothing and relied on stone implements for many of their tools, having been forced to trade away much iron to secure sustenance in hard years. This year's summer harvest, however, had been a good one, and they were willing to trade jerky, bread, and other travel food quite readily in return for gold seized from the Obsidian Order. This bounty, combined with a brief period of rest, restored the expedition's spirits somewhat and offered an interval to grapple with our grief. When morning dawned following the feast and recovery commenced from the mead-induced stupor most had allowed to claim them, it was at last possible to consider plans for the future again. The much-depleted council had to decide the next steps for the expedition. Though by a strict reading of the law only the Princess and I remained in any position of authority, I made the decision to include Rubuya and the senior surviving caravaneer, a half-breed camel driver named Gudunil, as well. It seemed necessary to consider every viewpoint at that time. I also made the decision, given that the authority to do so was now clearly mine, to manumit Kundun and Slinanai, the two slaves brought from Crisremon. Given the extremely hazardous nature of their service to this point, they had surely earned that much. I like to believe that Erun Nassah would have done the same, had the choice been his.
In many ways the question before the expedition was simple, merely a matter of deciding which path to take as we moved on, but at the same time it was considerably more complex. The obvious choice was to turn east, find a place of shelter for the winter, and then seek the swiftest route of return to Crisremon. At the same time, such a move was extremely dispiriting, nearly an act of despair. Tomad had taken such fragmentary pieces of dragon tissue as we had secured with him during his betrayal. As a result, nothing concrete remained to establish the lengthy effort and sacrifice of so many. To turn back now would mean abandoning the entire purpose for which we had set out in the beginning. Considering that those who survived had, at least implicitly, rejected such a choice when clandestinely approached by the traitors, a series of conversations whose purpose became quite clear in hindsight, this course of action was not one we were prepared to easily accept.
Despite such desires, it was obvious that we could not proceed as before. There had been too many losses and while it was at least theoretically possible to hire new personnel, a course Rubuya suggested might be taken come spring, that path presented numerous difficulties. While the turning of the season might allow for the replacement of caravaneers and mercenaries, given sufficient funds, the hiring of the specialists necessary to properly pursue the dragon was, without the backing of imperial authority, likely impossible. Nor did I have any confidence in my ability to present as an agent of such distant power. A single sorcerer, no matter her consummate skill, and an apprentice apothecary, were not enough. Conceivably we might persuade healers or explorers to join our efforts, especially by offering to share in the rewards, but this would take time and careful diplomacy. Further, any significant attempt to rebuild the expedition relied heavily on my abilities, both to recruit and to lead, and I did not consider myself even close to adequate regarding either task. I was not raised to command as Erun had been, nor did I possess Tomad's careful head for finances, and though I do not believe the people of the expedition disliked me, I had nothing like the boundless charisma the Princess possessed. Viewed with such honesty I can muster, I believe that those who survived to gather in the Gray Birch village respected my scholarship and appreciated my service during the emergency but had little interest in following my commands. If anything, the remaining expedition members were more inclined to look to Mistress Rubuya, who had experience commanding groups of warrior-women, than myself.
A personal weakness, surely, but it is not one I have ever been able to correct. My maps and this chronicle I will stand by, always. My decisions as leader of the Dragon Expedition I shall forever question. The decision I made that day perhaps more than any other. Was it the right choice? Did it accord with the will of the emperor and the Divines? Such things cannot be known. There is only to record the decisions that were made and the events that followed. I have striven to keep the account accurate, though I confess to great discomfort regarding this period when command fell upon my shoulders.
Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!
The determination made, after much consultation, recrimination, and discussion, was a compromise. The primary focus was to be the return mission. Mistress Rubuya, her comrades, the remaining loyal caravaneers, Amanili, and the Princess would proceed on a route intended to return them safely to Crisremon. They would take with them all records, wealth, and such other resources as remained in our possession. Their initial path would lead to the east, to the Nikkad towns along the Mumum River, in the hope of reaching them before the winter closed in. Ideally, starting early in the spring, they could make a swift journey back to the Core Provinces and return before year's end in the Twelfth Year of Enduring Peace. An optimistic assessment, such estimates. All of us regarded it more likely that they would needs to overwinter along the way. Ideally this would take place in the Foothills Kingdom, which we collectively considered safe, but Shnudidishgu was also a distinct possibility. Though this journey entailed considerable risk, all who survived were by this time seasoned travelers and considered the path to come well within their capabilities. It was acknowledged that, due to rumor of increasing conflict between the Kharal Khanates, caution would be needed to avoid becoming embroiled in war. Rubuya, who had earned the trust of all still present, would assume command.
For myself, the Lady Indili, and young Kundun, who volunteered to work as our camp aide, we would attempt to sustain the expedition's primary goal of locating the dragon. Closer to a mad dream than a proper plan, and with ridiculous risks attached, it nevertheless felt essential that some kind of attempt be made to fulfill the expedition's purpose. Some effort, some offering, must be made in the name of imperial honor, and I felt personally committed to this course. It was not entirely folly. A small party can move faster than a large one, take routes no large group may dare, and potentially achieve results in this manner. Certainly, there were advantages when considering the coming winter. Three people represented a minimal burden upon Bahab hospitality in a fashion that could not be claimed of seventeen. This critical variance made it possible to consider a final effort to seek the dragon's lair in autumn, before the awful variability of a new year turned over our prospects. I had expected to go on alone, or perhaps with a hired Bahab guide, but Lady Indili insisted on coming with me, and refusing her was completely impossible. Too much was owed to her, my life not the least of it, and her abilities did shift the search to come on the ice from madness to merely ill-considered. She claimed to be motivated by a desire to see the dragon up close, that she might gaze upon the nature of its crystallized divine essence. I am given to understand that such an act possessed incalculable value in sorcery. Such value was important, as all prospect of capturing or harvesting the legendary being had long since abated. A shade, conjured in the shape of the dragon – which Lady Indili said she could achieve if we only got close enough – would doubtless impress the imperial court, perhaps even sufficiently so that the expedition might be accounted a success in the annals of the empire. This was much on my mind, for I did not wish to see this effort tarnished by a legacy of failure and betrayal in the historian's words. Vanity though it might have been, I found the prospect of returning to Crisremon and admitting failure in our goals completely unimaginable.
Kundun's choice to accompany our doomed mission had unclear origins. Possibly gratitude played a role. Though in practice the elimination of his enslaved status changed little, it is common for many to attach great importance to the removal of that distinctive, and debasing, label. However, it seems more likely that he felt he had minimal prospects beyond the expedition and, seeing as he would share in any success we achieved as a free person, willing to take a considerable gamble upon the chance at great rewards. Though of Kharal blood by birth, he had none of the skills learned through a childhood upon the steppe. No tribe of his own people would ever accept him. This presented a great division between him and the Nikkad-born former servant Slinanai. The Nikkad girl could become part of a community of her people for the relatively modest price of taking a husband. Ultimately, she would take that path. She lived out her years as the third wife, and later widow, of the brother of the prince of Dasunuyud, the modest independent town on the Mumum River where the others took shelter upon leaving the mountains. To my knowledge, she lives there still, and her son is married to the current prince.
Rubuya stated flatly that my plan was folly and would lead to our deaths, but she made no effort to contest my choice. I believe even she, who had been given to the expedition largely against her will, understood how much would be sacrificed by completely admitting failure. My departure also meant that, throughout the return journey she could honestly state that the expedition's search for the dragon continued. Such things, small though they may seem, can have a profound influence on human motivations. No others raised an objection. They were content to follow the Princess and the Nikkad warrior. None cried out for my leadership.
Everything possible was dispatched southward. This included provisions, money, trade goods, and all the records and research both I and the Lady Indili had accumulated. We would go north with only one camel and one horse to assist our travel, and all our food was provided by the Bahab. To both reach the ice and leave it behind before the snows closed in, speed would be absolutely essential, and no time could be wasted on luxuries. The chief of the Gray Birches, through a combination of generosity and gratitude, dispatched youths to both go north with us as far as the mountain passes and to guide the Princess east out of the mountains using the trails known only to their people. Goodbyes, and they were not easy, were said in the evening. Departure came at first light. Only an expedition of three remained.