Chapter 9

14th Day, Middle Wind Month, 1 CE

“Tilapia! Fresh Tiger Tilapia from Crystal Lake!”

“Bamboo baskets! Canes of all lengths!”

“Liana! Jute ropes! Straw and thatch!”

Ilyshn’ish adjusted the yellow rawhide band wrapped snugly around her wrist as she and her companions wove their way through the crowded river market. Thus far, no one had tried to eat her while she was wearing it, so it appeared to be working as advertised.

The press of Beastmen was stifling, however, and she regretted taking what she had thought would be the most interesting route. Not that it wasn’t interesting. The sights and sounds were new and exotic, but the crowds of predatory Demihumans weren’t to her tastes. There was also the fact that Vltava was draped over her left shoulder like some sort of fluffy pauldron.

Another annoying thing was that a small crowd of smaller Beastmen followed in her wake, using her as an easy way to get through the market. What would happen if she stopped? Would they get mad? Would they all stop and wait for her, staring at her back until she kept moving? In a dark corner of her mind, disquieting fears lurked over whether they were simply gathering in sufficient force to take her down like Winter Wolves loitering around a Nuk.

“Where are you taking us, Seeker?”

Her ear twitched as Vltava bleated into it.

“I-I don’t know!” Ilyshn’ish replied, “I just wanted to look around. That’s what I’m here to do.”

They were barely two kilometres from the Cuorocos Cliffs, but she was already feeling overwhelmed. There were too many unfamiliar things going on around her and far too many people.

When she couldn’t take it anymore, she leapt out of the crowd, landing on the escarpment overlooking the main thoroughfare.

“How do these people live like this?” She glared down at the crowded market.

“Is the Warden considering doing anything similar in her territory?” Pebble asked.

“I hope not,” Ilyshn’ish said. “It’s not her style, either. This is just a bunch of people crammed together because there’s work to be had. I bet they don’t even know why this city is here in the first place.”

“Would anything change if they knew?”

“I doubt it. The locals don’t appear to understand why this city was founded here, but that doesn’t matter now. They’re like a giant collection of carnivores that have found a mysteriously convenient feeding ground.”

She wasn’t certain about the natives of Rol’en’gorek, but Humans supposedly built urban centres in locations of strategic, economic and political importance. Ilyshn’ish, however, was of the mind that this was thinking for big decision-makers. She doubted the ‘little people’ cared beyond the fact that work and thus necessities could be obtained. Once they were there, more goods and services would come to them and the denizens of the city would work toward their respective goals. The only way that would change was if it wasn’t worth doing, but Ghrkhor’storof’hekheralhr was evidently entrenched.

“I wonder if the entire world is like this,” Ilyshn'ish said.

“Like what?” Pinecone asked.

“People dwelling amongst the ruins of past ages,” she answered. “Like a sad echo of a past long forgotten. The Humans are like this too, you know? Except that their heedless rush for industry and ‘progress’ only serves to bury their past even faster. By the way, do you know what happened to this region? That whole Demon Gods thing, I mean.”

“We know what happened,” Pinecone said, “but not why. Ours is the perspective of distant observers, uninvolved in the affairs of those beyond our mountain homes.”

Ilyshn’ish had also asked her mother about the events of two centuries previous, but she and the other Frost Dragons present at the time wisely vacated the Azerlisia Mountains and spent the next decade in the Frozen Expanse. The few who decided to return found the ordeal over and the realities of those who remained overturned and shattered.

Their traditional rivals, the Frost Giants, had stood their ground in a characteristically Frost Giant way and suffered great losses in the process. However, it appeared that the southern clans had successfully turned the Demon Gods’ assault, causing the mysterious entities to divert and go after the Dwarves instead. The Mountain Dwarves lost their capital and were transformed from a long-standing fixture of the region to a crippled and slowly-declining remnant. Around the Azerlisia Mountains, the Human-populated lands had been razed to the ground and everyone else didn’t fare much better.

“They wreaked havoc on the region,” Ilyshn’ish half said to herself, “but they weren’t strong enough to wipe out the Frost Giants. I don’t think these ‘Demon Gods’ would have succeeded in the present day.”

“Possibly not,” Vltava said. “Certainly not with the same degree of success. Dragonkind would have recovered in its new form, and every Ancient Dragon’s domain invaded would carry with it the risk of loss.”

His words matched what Mitra had shared with her, adding to the idea that the timing of their appearance was suspiciously convenient. Then again, it happened because it could, so it might have just been her. One never called a successful ambush suspiciously convenient – they happened because opportunities presented themselves.

“Do you know what they were?” Ilyshn’ish asked.

“An echo of the calamities that regularly visit the world, perhaps. The form tends to vary, but the timing was the same.”

“Did they come to you?”

“No. Awareness is required to be targeted.”

It wasn’t a bad way to go about doing things. If one didn’t draw attention to oneself and stayed beyond the awareness of beings of cataclysmic power, it saved a lot of trouble.

“Then why did you reveal yourself to the Warden?”

“Because the cataclysm of this cycle probably cannot be avoided,” Vltava replied. “Furthermore, it comes at a strength comparable to the most devastating cataclysms of the past. Better to seek shelter than risk suffering the whims of uncaring beings.”

“Minding one’s business isn’t an option, huh.”

“No. We witnessed what the evil star wrought. It was a malevolent, unstoppable force that sought the suffering and destruction of all. Calamities often do not come as single events within a small region, so we suspect that others are happening elsewhere. Some may even sweep over the entire world.”

“Wait,” Ilyshn’ish said, “so you didn't stop because of the Warden?"

“We did, but all things have a purpose, and all things are connected.”

“Right.”

They left their observation of the market, heading deeper into the trees away from the river. After a few minutes of following the winding woodland trails, Vltava abruptly reached out and yanked her whiskers.

“Owowowowow!” Ilyshn'ish cried, “Why?!”

“This way,” Vltava gave her whiskers another tug.

“You could have just said something!”

She wriggled her muzzle, then turned to Pebble and Pinecone.

“Does he do this to you, too?"

“No,” Pebble replied.

“No,” replied Pinecone.

Ilyshn’ish released a sigh. She had no idea what whiskers were in her natural appearance, and she didn’t want to find out what she would lose if Vltava tugged them out. A few tugs later, they arrived at the base of an extraordinarily large tree.

“Oh, I saw this tree and others like it on the flight the other night,” Ilyshn’ish said. “Lady Zahradnik was furious when she saw them.”

“A nature spirit from a past age,” Vltava said. “Their voices have long grown distant, but their duties remain. This one has been violently relieved of them.”

Something like a Dryad before Dryads were Dryads? She tried to imagine what the tree looked like while it was still alive, but she had never seen the like before. All that she was left with after the exercise was the sombre idea that some experiences were forever lost to her.

Vltava squirmed his way off of her shoulder, landing lightly on the forest floor. They followed him as he made his way between the tree’s canyon-like roots, sniffing at his surroundings along the way.

“There is no replacement for this one,” he said. “No new manifestation tends to this land. This was no accident or natural occurrence – it was done on purpose. The Warden was right to be furious.”

“How can there be no replacement?” Ilyshn'ish looked up at the colossal stump, “This jungle is full of life.”

“The land still recoils from the events of the past,” Vltava said. "Life abounds, yet memory remains. There are scars both visible and invisible here.”

A roar swelled over the broken edges of the stump, filled with excitement and bloodlust. It appeared that something else was suppressing things aside from the scars of the past.

Vltava scaled the sheer trunk, rapidly making his way to the top in a continuous series of hops. Pebble and Pinecone followed. Ilyshn’ish looked to see if anyone had noticed them before doing the same. On the other side was one of the arena-like structures carved out of the ancient trees’ interiors. The stands were nearly full and the spectators lavished their savage approval of the spectacle on bloodied sands below.

Ilyshn’ish took an inventory of the crowd. The sense of placement was oddly similar to the Grand Arena in Arwintar, with the most disreputable spectators filling the pit immediately surrounding the combat area. Elevated platforms were spaced evenly around the arena and were occupied by well-to-do-looking Beastmen.

According to Nemel, who didn’t much like the Grand Arena, many of the Empire’s elite attended when high-profile matches were scheduled. Indeed, the fervour of the crowd indicated just that…except the Beastman elites in their exclusive seating appeared to be observing the matches with deadly seriousness. Nemel said that most Nobles enjoyed arena matches just as much as everyone else, so she wondered what was the source of the odd behaviour.

Vltava didn’t seem interested at all in the proceedings, continuing to sniff his way around the top of the ancient stump. Another cheer rolled over them. Ilyshn’ish shook her head, wondering what the point of the fighting was. As she understood it, the competitors could win something, but it didn’t explain why people came to watch.

Nemel said that tickets were expensive, too…wait, does that mean I have to pay to be up here?

Ilyshn’ish lowered her profile, trying to become as inconspicuous as possible. She looked over to where Pebble and Pinecone followed Vltava as he slowly made his way along. She hoped that no one noticed them: she didn’t want to lose any of her precious coins for something they weren’t even paying attention to.

After a nerve-wracking hour atop the edge of the tree stump, Vltava seemed satisfied with his findings and returned to the jungle floor. Ilyshn’ish breathed a sigh of relief when no one came chasing after them demanding payment.

“What did you find?” She asked.

“Nothing,” Vltava said. “Not even the slightest sense of what came before.”

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Well, there was the stump.”

“It is no longer what it once was.”

“What did you hope to find?”

“A memory…or perhaps an attempt to retain memory. But there is no memorial to the bastion of life that once stood here. There is no one who remembers.”

“The mystics of this city seem to possess traces of memory,” Ilyshn’ish offered. “There’s another tree like this that has been turned into something like a temple.”

Vltava hopped back onto her shoulder.

“Take us there.”

What am I, a Soul Eater?

It felt pointless to voice her thoughts. On the plus side, Vltava would stay high and out of trouble where he was.

The people and their dwellings grew more sparse as they headed south over the low ridge dividing one river from the next. Unlike Human cities, where more space usually indicated one had entered a wealthier district, here, it signified that they had entered one of Ghrkhor’storof’hekheralhr’s many ranching areas. As they went along, herds of Nug could occasionally be seen grazing between the trees under the watchful eye of their Beastman tenders.

“Lady Zahradnik mentioned that there are Nuk in the southern border ranges,” Ilyshn’ish said. “Have you ever considered doing something like this?”

“No,” Pebble said. “There is no need. By keeping a hunting range free of predators, the herds take care of themselves.”

“That’s true,” Ilyshn’ish bobbed her head in greeting as they passed a pair of Gao ranchers. “In that case, what are these Beastmen doing? Keeping thieves away?”

“In part,” Pebble said. “They are also forcing a result. Enforcing set patterns of migration and breeding. Providing what is otherwise unobtainable. It is happening all over this basin, and it is unsustainable and all too easy to collapse. If calamity revisits them, the vast majority of their population will perish from starvation and their civilisation will be buried by chaos once again.”

Ilyshn’ish nodded in agreement. To maximise their ranching efforts, the Beastmen actively hunted or drove away all grazers that competed with their Nug for fodder and any potential predators. Rather than the wild jungle that outsiders might believe Rol'en'gorek to be, it was in reality not much different from the rolling pastures east and northeast of E-Rantel.

“I wonder how long until something befalls them,” Ilyshn’ish mused.

“Many vulnerabilities already exist,” Pinecone said. “They are importing what their lands are deficient in. Reliance on a limited number of species also creates susceptibility to disease. One that cannot be cured will inevitably enter this system and bring about its end.”

“Shouldn’t their Druids and Rangers be advising them about this? I know that the Humans tend to ignore theirs, but they’re highly integrated into this society.”

That being said, their Druids were considered ‘mystics’ and filled the shamanistic roles that existed in many tribal societies. Still, they should have had the insights into nature and its workings that Druids were known for.

“It is not easy for many,” Pebble said. “Young civilisations find advantages and tend to exploit them without thought. They see what is good for their own kind and do not consider the greater consequences. Or ignore them in pursuit of growth. I think Frost Dragons would not understand this, as they do not care for kin as many other species do.”

Ilyshn’ish flicked her ear in agreement. Frost Dragons propagated their numbers, but it was extraordinarily rare for them to nurture and protect their young. Even if they did, they had absolutely no qualms about driving away or killing a mate, sibling or child if necessary. Overpopulation was never an issue, thus they never needed to devise methods to support it. If anything, Frost Dragons did the opposite of what many races did, ensuring that their domains remained diverse and healthy.

As they walked down the other side of the ridge, they left the ranchland and entered the next urban ‘district’ of the city. Rather than a single city, the Ghrkhor’storof’hekheralhr might have been better described as a cluster of urban centres. Each was the size of a small Human city, with residences, markets and simple industries clustered around the clanholds in the hills above the valleys or around the stumps of the colossal trees. There was also a strip of urban area along the lakefront where the many wharves were, which was where Humans would have probably built a city.

Overall, it was a curious layout that supported what she had noted before. Something had decided that the Beastmen were to live in those locations, and then sheer inertia kept them there. The when and why of everything were forgotten.

The ruins of Xoc’s clanhold and others like it might have drawn the population that survived the Demon God’s back like an old, familiar lair. Aside from that, the only other clue Ilyshn’ish had was the odd name of the city.

Shimmering Crystal Palace of the Water Spirits…

She hadn’t seen anything that resembled a water spirit. Nor did she note any crystal palaces in the area. The closest thing to crystal that the locals used were gemstones and the bits and pieces of volcanic glass that they found on the ground.

The colossal tree that was their next destination was just as large and just as dead. Like the ‘arena tree’ from before, its roots served as ramps that led to tunnels bored into the ancient trunk. A few of the local Urmah population walked to and from the entrance, but, as before, Vltava made his own way up the stump as he investigated the ancient tree’s remains.

Because the ‘temple tree’ hadn’t been carved out into a bowl as the arena tree had, Vltava ended up popping up in front of an Urmah mystic near the edge of the stump. The mystic leapt up onto the table beside her, eyes wide and fur raised. The supplicants she was seeing to were similarly shocked.

Ilyshn’ish finished scaling the trunk and scooped Vltava up in her paws.

“Good morning,” she said. “Our apologies for the interruption.”

She walked away before the mystic could reply. The temple was an open-air venue with daises raised around its perimeter. Each dais was attended to by one or two mystics and a small crowd of supplicants awaited service. Most of them showed signs of being sick or wounded. Many carried various goods, placing them before the mystics when it came their turn.

Tributes? Or payment?

The Temples in the Sorcerous Kingdom and the Empire had a similar system where coins were offered in exchange for healing. She had never seen Humans come with nothing, neither had she seen them offer food, cloth or other things.

“Is there something I can help you with?”

Ilyshn’ish looked down at the voice. Another Urmah – this time an elderly male with a black mane – looked up tentatively at her. A younger male stared up at her beside him. She wasn’t waiting for service, yet the other Beastmen who arrived ahead of her had cleared a way for her to the nearest altar and she had thoughtlessly followed it.

What should I do…

She glanced down at the fluffy disaster in her hands. After a moment’s thought, she placed him on the altar as the other Beastman supplicants had.

“This is…”

The two Urmah mystics leaned forward curiously.

“This one has a question for you,” Vltava bleated.

With startled shouts, the two mystics jumped back.

“The beast,” the elder exclaimed, “it speaks!”

“Says the Beastman,” Vltava’s central eye returned an unamused look. “This one would know how this tree came to its end.”

“This tree?” The elder scratched his head, “Do you mean the stump we’re standing on? It’s been like this for as long as anyone can recall.”

“How long?” Vltava pressed the elder.

“Erm, anything I heard about this tree was from the time I was a cub. From my elders, who were born six generations ago. The tree was like this when the survivors of the Demon Gods returned to their old homes. The entire city was burned to ashes except for the ancient trees, which were felled. None who bore witness to the destruction lived.”

“You said the whole city,” Ilyshn’ish said. “But was it the same city? The name of this place does not match its appearance. You say that no witnesses survived, but did any who fled remember what the city was like before?”

“I-I don’t know…”

“Then, were there any relics recovered from the ashes? Surely, the mystics of that time endeavoured to preserve what they could upon their return…”

The two Urmah only replied with unknowing looks.

It seemed that Mitra’s assessment was on the mark, but how was that possible? It was one thing to damage a city to the degree that it would be considered ‘destroyed’, but it was another to remove almost every tangible trace of the past.

According to the regional histories, there were multiple Demon Gods. But there wasn’t an army of them. Ilyshn’ish was fairly confident that she could destroy most of the cities she had seen so far, but personally burning every book, defacing every carving and melting every plaque would take an annoyingly long time.

“…is that all you require?” The elder asked.

Ilyshn’ish reached down and picked up Vltava.

“It is,” she said. “Since you weren’t able to answer to our satisfaction, however, you don’t get to have him.”

They left the temple, this time going down the main ramp and leaving out of one of the entryways before following the river downstream to return to the Cuorocos Cliffs from a different direction. An eight-kilometre stroll brought them to the lake, right to one of the many wharves of the city. They crossed what could only be described as a band of slums running parallel to the waterfront. The slums in the Empire rarely had anything interesting in them, so she swiftly made her way through to the crowded markets lining the piers.

Once again, they were treated like Rangers blazing a trail through the urban jungle by the smaller residents. Ilyshn’ish was now too preoccupied with her task for the Ministry of Transportation to pay them any mind, however.

River infrastructure in Rol’en’gorek bore an uncanny resemblance to the infrastructure in the Draconic Kingdom. It was the only aspect of the tribal confederation that might be considered well-developed by Human standards. Ilyshn’ish wasn’t sure if there was any significance to that, as, in the end, both Humans and Beastmen were terrestrial species. Both used ships for the same purposes and the facilities that serviced them would by necessity be similar.

The dimensions of the two civilisations’ river barges were also identical, aside from the fact that the Draconic Kingdom usually employed sails while Rol’en’gorek usually used paddle wheels. It was as if some shared standard bound both countries, or perhaps it was something that one side copied from the other over the course of their long relationship.

She watched as one such vessel paddled its way slowly alongside the pier. A team of Nar dockworkers caught the lines cast toward them and secured the ship to its moorings. As it was in the Empire and the Draconic Kingdom, its cargo was stored in sacks and crates which were individually offloaded by menial labour. Ilyshn’ish watched the entire process, hoping that what she observed would be useful to the Sorcerous Kingdom’s Ministry of Transportation upon recollection.

“Are there no Demihumans in these waters?” Pinecone asked.

Ilyshn’ish considered the question for a moment. The effluent from the city should have provoked some reaction from the lake’s Demihuman population, but she had neither seen nor heard of any aquatic Demihumans or Heteromorphs dwelling in Rol’en’gorek.

“Aquatic species have limited space to flee in such environs,” Vltava said. “It is likely that they were wiped out.”

“I’ll find out for sure later,” Ilyshn’ish said. “For now, I need to gather enough information to not get skinned.”

“Is it just the skin, or will they use every part?”

“Sh-shut up! I don’t want to know!”

The matter-of-fact pragmatism of the short-lived herbivore was admirable…for a short-lived herbivore. Despite being strong, their lives were brief, so they prioritised the long-term strength and survival of their society and turned communication and the passing down of their collective knowledge into an art. Their ways were not something that Dragons would ever consider for themselves. As a Bard, however, she had developed a healthy appreciation for them.

“This one heard from the Dark Elf called Aura that they processed and stored every part of the one called the Frost Dragon Lo–”

“LALALALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU.”

“This one is right on your shoulder.”

“…”

She considered hurling Vltava into the lake, but he could fly. Drowning him probably wouldn’t work, either.

Over the next few hours, Ilyshn’ish slowly made her way north along the wharves of Ghrkhor’storof’hekheralhr. After the third or fourth wharf, she grew tired of being stared at and chose to instead stealthily observe things from the shadows of the narrow ‘alleys’ in the nearby slums. The shoddy construction of the structures around her allowed her Blindsight to see perfectly through everything.

“Mama…”

Much of what went on, however, did not require Blindsight to perceive.

“Mama…”

Vltava hopped off of her shoulder and trotted off after the sound of the nearby voice. Since it wasn’t coming from very far away, Ilyshn’ish stayed where she was to observe the nearby market.

“Don’t eat her,” Ilyshn’ish called after the Krkonoše Druid absently. “Someone might charge you for poaching.”

Whether Vltava heard her or not, she couldn’t tell, and he certainly didn’t pay her any mind if he did. A few minutes later, he came back with a Lup pup – not much more than an infant – with its jaws firmly latched onto his leg.

“You’re not keeping that,” Ilyshn’ish said.

“It was a test,” Vltava replied.

“What sort of test involves getting one’s leg chewed on?”

“The young are often left in their dens until they can assist their parents with their work. There is not much opportunity to observe individuals of this age.”

Ilyshn’ish was out killing and eating things mere seconds after hatching, so she couldn’t relate. How did other species survive with such crippling dependencies?

“Most parents become alarmed or enraged when they find their young with strangers like this,” she said. “This collection of hovels won’t survive one of your tornadoes.”

She narrowed her eyes and growled at the pup. It released its hold and soiled itself.

“Ugh, gross.”

After some poking and prodding, Vltava put the Lup pup back where it came from. Ilyshn’ish used a Trooper’s Towel to eliminate any trace of their passing, but the effect was too strong and cleaned the entire cramped hovel instead.

Is there an item that produces the opposite effect? There must be…

She threw some dirt on the pup before they left. That would have to do.

As they left the slum to return to the wharves, her gaze went out over the erratic expanse of stone dens, wooden shacks and tents lining the jungle alleys under the shade of the trees along the shore. After several moments, her attention went to the vast lake that stretched beyond the horizon.

“I suppose we’ll have to find out what happened the hard way,” Ilyshn’ish said. “Or maybe it’s the easy way, considering how clueless the locals are.”

From the sky, many patterns that wouldn’t be noticed from the ground were apparent. Strangely, the Demon Gods – some of whom supposedly flew – left that evidence behind. It was an obvious thing that they should have erased considering how thorough they otherwise were.

That investigation, however, would have to wait. It would probably take days, and she had more dancing lessons with Mitra slated for the afternoon.