Chapter 6

“So,” Saraca asked, “what did you find out?”

Rana Saj and Rana Pwilere looked from Saraca to Mitra with confused expressions.

“Thirty thousand Yeti tribespeople,” Mitra rubbed at one of her bloodied claws. “A new boss moved in from somewhere deeper in the Worldspine. Now, they’re depopulating the conquered territories to make them more manageable.”

“…they actually told you that?”

“It’s dressed up as ‘glorious and honourable conquest’ and ‘proof of worth’, but, well…”

Mitra gave up trying to wipe away the blood on her claws and used a Traveller’s Kit instead. One of the magic item’s many functions was a Clean spell, which left her spotless from head to toe.

“How did you gain this information?” Rana Pwilere asked.

“I, uh…asked one of them?” Mitra answered with an innocent look, “It’s not as if there’s a shortage of candidates.”

“But how? They do nothing but try to rip us apart.”

“Mitra is Chaaran,” Saraca explained. “You can consider them a type of Bard.”

“A Bard?” Rana Saj’s ears perked curiously, “I thought she was of the warrior caste, like you.”

“She is,” Saraca replied. “Chaaran are a part of our ruling warrior caste. She’s the second-strongest combatant in my entourage.”

The gazes of the two Rol’en’gorek Lords went over the members of Saraca’s house guard, as if comparing them to Mitra. Their reaction was common enough: Bards were often seen as loremasters and bearers of culture, occupying important roles in the fields of communication, entertainment and the arts. People were vaguely aware that Bards were physically stronger than what one would expect of a civilian, but perceptions of Bards often kept them from combat roles in society.

In a way, they weren’t wrong: a Bard’s value lay far beyond their utility as a combatant. At the same time, however, it meant that the cultivation of the bardic arts ended up being woefully lacking in martial fields.

“Out of curiosity,” Rana Saj said, “who is the strongest member of your entourage?”

Mitra pointed a claw at Saraca.

“Right. I suppose I should have guessed.”

“But thirty thousand…” Rana Pwilere sighed, “Even with the losses we’ve inflicted so far, we’re even at best. And this new conqueror should be powerful if they were able to supplant the local tribes.”

“And he will have gathered many strong Lords under him, as well,” Rana Saj added. “We can’t assume that we hold any advantage in terms of superior individuals. If anything, they should have more than we do.”

“Will the force be composed entirely of Yeti?” Saraca asked, “Do they have battle slaves or tributaries?”

“Fortunately not,” Rana Pwilere answered, “they are equally belligerent against all other races.”

“Then is there a way for you to swiftly and decisively end the conflict? You assume that this new leader will appear on the field.”

That people would not follow a leader who did not lead was obvious, but it didn’t necessarily mean that said leader would lead from the front.

“Aside from what Mitra mentioned,” Rana Saj said, “we have no insight as to what this new Yeti Lord will do. Yeti Lords are not known for favouring any particular position to lead from, but if he’s culling the conquered and using them to weaken us at the same time, he shouldn’t be at the front unless something draws him forward.”

“We have room enough to withdraw twice more,” Rana Pwilere said. “Think we can frustrate him enough to expose his position?”

“I don’t know,” Rana Saj flicked his ear in agitation. “Maybe the scouts will discover something before the next push.”

Rana Pwilere’s attention turned to Mitra.

“That Yeti you questioned: what happened to it? We’d like to find out more, if possible.”

“He was waving at you when I got back,” Mitra replied lightly.

“…I see. Well, thank you for finding out what you did for us. That would have been an even nastier surprise than the first.”

Runners reported in from across the front, painting a better picture of their tactical and strategic situation. The front-wide ambush had taken a bloody toll on the Yeti forces, slaying or grievously wounding roughly four thousand of their savage foe. Losses for Rol’en’gorek were less than a thousand.

“If we can repeat that twice more,” Rana Saj said, “our task will no longer be so daunting.”

“I don’t think it will be so easy as that,” Rana Pwilere said.

Rana Saj’s upbeat demeanour vanished. He looked at his fellow Rana expectantly.

“You’re the expert here. What makes you say that?”

“With these numbers,” the Con Lord replied, “they can and should push all night. It is to their disadvantage to allow us to continually prepare ambushes.”

Saraca silently agreed with Rana Pwilere’s assessment. The Yeti would suffer a devastating defeat the way things were currently going. Their opponent should be pushing for a general advance, stealing away the Beastmen’s advantage.

“What do you think they have planned?” Saraca asked.

“It could be something entirely understandable,” Rana Pwilere replied. “Waiting for the rest of their forces to catch up after getting so thoroughly mauled just now, for instance. The ones in the front may have simply been too eager to start. I somehow doubt that’s the case, however.”

The Con Lord turned his head up to the night skies beyond the towering range in the north.

“The stars are gone,” he said. “We have some foul weather on its way. They will attack using their full force with the next storm.”

“Then we should evacuate your people in the valley,” Rana Saj said.

“I agree,” Rana Pwilere replied, “but we still have to fight. We need to buy time for everyone to safely be away…and a real storm here might last for days.”

The Lord of Clan Pwilere raised his voice.

“Gather the runners. We’re evacuating our tribes to the lowlands.”

Saraca sent half of his entourage to prepare their camp. He remained to watch the defenders of Rol’en’gorek make their preparations.

He had seen scenes much like the one playing out before him many times, but they still stirred his heart whenever he witnessed them. The world was not kind to the weak. No matter how great or small, everyone strove to keep their claws sharp for the struggles that inevitably fell upon them.

It was often said that the broad quality of a people could be found within their leaders. Saraca was fairly certain this was the case. In his travels around the continent, he found it a good way to measure prospective allies for the Confederacy without the need to spend years amongst them. Some saw their subjects as nothing more than expendable servants, while others strove to serve their people to the best of their ability.

In the Beastman Confederacy, the ideal behaviour of a ruler was known as rajadharma. Much like dharma represented how enlightened individuals behave in any given moment according to the cosmic balance, rajadharma was the conduct of an enlightened ruler. Societies around the world contained hints and fragments of understanding when it came to many aspects of life, but it was rare that Saraca encountered anyone beyond the civilised lands of the continent that adhered to even a portion of it.

That also applied to Rol’en’gorek. As Mitra had mentioned, they were not explicitly adharma – acting against dharma – but they were ‘raw’. What he saw of the warrior caste here, however, cast them in a favourable light. Being so close to their primal roots spared them the many pitfalls that came with advancing civilisations.

『Have you made up your mind already, ji?』

Saraca looked down at Mitra, who had seated herself on a rock behind him.

『Not yet. They show promise, but it’s a big country. What else did that Yeti say?』

『Well, I could only get so much out of him before our friends here sent people out to find me. They’re a bit interesting, but their unfortunate story is a common one.』

The vanquished being used as battle fodder for further conquests was not rare. This was especially true when the conquered people were still strong enough to threaten the conqueror. Among the six nations that struggled for dominance around the centre of the continent, two openly employed such methods.

『You didn’t kill the Yeti, did you?』

『Of course not! That would be a waste. I sent him back to his boss with a message. Maybe something interesting will happen?』

Saraca rolled his eyes. He was never certain if Mitra acted out of mischief or compassion. Perhaps she did both at the same time.

“What are you two on about?” Karuvaki’s voice came from his left.

“Mitra’s been doing her thing,” Saraca said.

His second wife peered at the Chaaran suspiciously. Mitra only grinned back at her. With the activity of the camp winding down, Saraca motioned for his wives to continue their discussion in his tent.

“What about you?” Saraca asked Karuvaki on the way back, “Did you find anything interesting with the local mystics?”

“The themes are as you might expect. The local Baagh have magic suited to warmer climes. I haven’t seen enough of the Con, yet. Cross-pollination of divine magic only occurs where the utility of a spell line is worth the effort.”

“Anything new?”

“It’s still all very close to the ‘root’ of Tier Magic, so nothing we haven’t seen before. If there’s anything interesting, it’ll likely be found on the Jorgulan Front where a much larger and more varied pool of magic casters participate in the same environment. Just don’t expect anything revolutionary.”

The following morning, two metres of snow spilt into Saraca’s tent when he opened its flap. Karuvaki jumped up from her sleep with a screech. Mitra yawned and uncurled herself from her corner, which was safe from the small avalanche.

“Well,” Saraca said, “he did say a storm was on its way.”

“How did that happen without us noticing?” Karuvaki stared at the white wall.

“Snowflakes aren’t exactly noisy,” Mitra said.

Saraca was at a loss as to how they should leave. After forcing his way forward two metres, the snow in front of him crumbled, revealing a tunnel beyond.

“Oh…that makes sense.”

“Hey!” A voice came out of the hole on the left, “Who the hell opened our shit up?!”

“Sorry…”

His attempts to mend the damage only resulted in more damage. Saraca retreated to his tent and turned to Karuvaki, who returned his powerless expression with a flat look.

“What?”

“Help.”

Karuvaki let out a disgusted sigh. She poked her head outside the tent, a low growl emanating from her throat as she examined the destruction.

“What am I supposed to do here, exactly?”

“Make a tunnel to the tent?” Saraca loosely gestured with a claw, “You know, whoosh.”

“Whoosh…”

“Y-you know what I mean.”

“Just wait until old Chanayka hears about a priestess being made to fix some clumsy Nug’s blundering.”

“…please don’t tell him.”

The priestess summoned a Water Elemental, using it to fashion a shell of ice connecting them to the main tunnel. Though somewhat cramped, the passage was surprisingly warm. They padded forward on all fours, finding Girika and Kasturi waiting a dozen metres away in front of another tunnel entrance. Four members of his house guard sat on their haunches in the side tunnels nearby. The Inquisitor gave him a look.

“Didn’t take much for you to go back to your violent ways, Chandsaraca.”

“Sh-shut up! How do we find our way around in these tunnels?”

“Only the main tunnel goes anywhere. All of these side entrances lead to groups of tents. The war room is this way.”

Somehow, a four-metre-high dome had been formed for the war room, allowing them to straighten to their full height. Rana Saj and Rana Pwilere were already present, discussing something in hushed tones. They turned their heads at Saraca’s approach.

“Saraca,” Rana Saj greeted him. “Enjoy the little surprise?”

“I’m more surprised that we weren’t attacked while we were buried.”

“Our enemies are just as hampered as we are,” Rana Pwilere told him. “The scouts will see them coming long before they arrive. We’re trying to figure out what to do with this extra time.”

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Is there some advantage to staying here?” Saraca asked.

“Well, it’s actually warmer here under the snow than it would be exposed on the mountainside, even at a lower elevation. Another day of snow like this and we’ll be able to widen the tunnels and get nice and comfortable.”

“By staying relatively close to the enemy line,” Rana Saj added, “we’ll get a chance to observe this new Yeti Lord and how they operate. If it’s any different from the Yeti tribes that we know, it’s better to find out sooner rather than later. They also have fewer provisions than we do, so they’ll be forced to move sooner than we are.”

“We, on the other hand,” Rana Pwilere grinned, “get to feast on Yeti every day.”

They were trying to be positive about their situation, but the fact remained that Rana Saj’s warriors were supposed to be on the Jorgulan Frontier. Even if they relocated, they wouldn’t be able to leave until the Yeti threat was dealt with.

“What about agitating them?”

“Explain,” Rana Pwilere looked at Saraca sharply.

“Light skirmishing,” Saraca explained. “You have Rangers that can be put to good use. If you want to learn about the enemy, then fight them.”

The two Lords pondered his suggestion in silence.

“Yeti hunters would be superior to ours in this environment,” Rana Saj said.

“The difference shouldn’t be too vast,” Saraca said. “Responding to a Ranger attack is far more difficult than being the attacker.”

The difference between Demihuman Rangers depended on two factors. The environment that they specialised in – as Rana Saj had mentioned – was the first. Second was whether an individual was of a race of natural Rangers, such as Gnolls. While it could be said that most Beastmen had racial traits that gave them some Ranger-like qualities, Gnoll Rangers were obnoxiously difficult opponents to fight. The effectiveness of Demihuman Rangers who were not members of races that were natural Rangers was greatly diminished unless they were exceptionally strong.

“It’s worth considering,” Rana Pwilere admitted. “We’ll have to discuss it with our hunters, though. They’re doing more than the rest of us in this situation as it is. In the meantime, we’ll be digging in.”

‘Digging in’ consisted of waiting for more snow to build up over the day and creating small barracks where groups of warriors could dwell. The locals carefully dug out torus-shaped chambers, compressing the displaced snow into a central column for each room. Mitra directed their entourage to build an extra-large chamber by combining four tori. Somehow, the roof didn’t collapse on them.

“I didn’t know you were an architect,” Saraca said.

“It’s art! Art~” Mitra replied, “Water Elementals make this easy anyway…”

Her voice trailed off as she started carving figures on the walls with an intense look of concentration. Saraca laid out a blanket and sat down beside Karuvaki.

“I’m going to be mad if we’re stuck here all winter,” Karuvaki muttered.

“Tens of thousands of Yeti can’t stay in one place for long,” Saraca replied. “They’ll run out of Beastman corpses long before we run out of Yeti corpses.”

“That assumes they don’t have any supply lines,” the priestess said, “or that they don’t cannibalise their dead fellows.”

“Attacking in winter is to their advantage,” he reasoned. “I don’t see them wasting it. Mitra said that the entire purpose is to throw the conquered Yeti tribes at us. They’re not doing that by not attacking.”

“Then what would an attack look like in this situation?” Girika asked, “I don’t like the way this feels. Hostile wild tribes are either all teeth and claws or have some trick to pull. They don’t just sit around like this. Can’t afford to.”

He had a point. The problem was that they didn’t know how ‘wild’ the Yeti actually were. A new great leader could mean the advent of a new mountain civilisation or the expansion of an existing one.

There’s just not enough information…

“Karuvaki.”

“Hm?”

“How’s your mana?”

“Full. Summon Monster I doesn’t exactly use much.”

Saraca looked over to a pair of his Gladestalkers. He gestured to the tunnel entrance. The two Rangers wordlessly slipped out of the chamber.

“Let’s take a look at what those Yeti are up to,” Saraca said.

“You want me to scry them?” Karuvaki asked.

“Have you already tried?”

“No. I wasn’t sure how much you wanted to get involved here. Well, I don’t like being oblivious either. Give me a few minutes.”

Karuvaki cast Create Item, conjuring a wide stoup in the centre of the room. She then filled the stoup with Holy Water.

“Do you think they have any countermeasures?” She asked.

“Just going by their appearance,” Saraca answered, “probably not. But let’s play it safe.”

“「Saraswati’s Guidance」. 「Veil of Mrisha」. 「Explosive Ward」.”

“Maaaaybe the Explosive Ward is a bit much.”

“Too late. 「Scrying」.”

The surface of the water started to glow. An image shimmered into view. Girika and Kasturi came over to join them. The scenery sped by as Karuvaki flew the scrying sensor up the mountainside.

“I hope they’re not under the snow like we are,” the priestess said. “We’re not going to see much that way.”

“A blizzard shouldn’t drive them to seek shelter,” Saraca replied. “They’re highly resistant to cold.”

It wasn’t long before the sensor drifted over the first groups of Yeti tribespeople. As far as Saraca could tell, there were no stockpiles of supplies or any battle preparations being made.

“Well, they look like they’re enjoying themselves,” Girika said. “Just lying there like boulders collecting snowdrifts.”

“There has to be a reason why they’re just sitting there…”

“Aren’t there too few of them?” Kasturi remarked.

“More like there are none of them past that front bunch,” Girika scratched his arm.

The scrying sensor kept going until it reached the terminal moraine of the glacier above them. Karuvaki looked over at Saraca.

“Turn around and angle the sensor downhill. There might be something we can’t see from below.”

Karuvaki did as he asked, sending the sensor back down the slope. It wasn’t long until they found what they were looking for.

“Well, shit,” Girika said.

“Head down that largest tunnel,” Saraca pointed a claw. “How many tunnels was that?”

“Five,” Kasturi said, “but there could be far more along the slope. There would have to be a lot of them to fit all of the missing Yeti.”

The sensor found the end of the Yeti column in the tunnel. It sped past them, but hundreds of metres passed with no sign of the front.

“Yeti don’t burrow, do they?” Girika leaned forward.

“No better than we do,” Saraca replied. “They can’t have gotten this far so quickly.”

Several minutes later, a bright orange glow gave them their answer. Saraca dashed out of their chamber.

“We’ll be under attack soon,” he told the guards outside. “Spread the word!”

“Where?”

“They’re burrowing towards us.”

The guards’ ears swivelled as if trying to listen for digging on the other side of the tunnel wall.

“Just go!” Saraca roared.

He didn’t wait to see if they heeded him. Upon entering the war room, he scanned through the occupants.

“Where is Rana Saj? Rana Pwilere?”

“They’re resting at the moment,” one of the tribal Lords said. “Is something the matter?”

“The Yeti are coming. They’re using Ice Worms to burrow this way.”

“What! How do you know this?”

“We–”

“Incoming!” Kasturi called out.

The tunnel wall melted so rapidly that it may as well have been exposed to lava. A pair of milky-white, compound eyes stared at them from the other side. The Ice Worm lunged, its segmented, ten-metre length driven forward by centipede-like legs. It snatched up a Ki’ra defender in its tooth-filled maw, swallowing him whole. The odour of singed fur and cooking meat filled the air as its victim was cooked alive in the Ice Worm’s superheated gullet.

Yeti warriors streamed out of the cleared breach, charging in every direction. The Ice Worm coiled its pale blue body on itself. Its spiny frills spread wide like the hood of a cobra before it lunged at another defender. Another section of the tunnel melted open. A second Ice Worm joined the fray. It went straight for Mitra, who slapped it to the side.

“Ew, ew, ew, Ew, EW!” She cried, “These things are gross!”

“Permission to attack, Yuvraj?” One of his guards asked.

『Let’s stop up those breaches. Anyone see the Beastmasters controlling those Ice Worms?』

A Beastmaster strong enough to control Adult Ice Worms was the only tangible threat. They could fight everything else all day if they needed to.

“I’m watching for them,” Kasturi said. “All these Yeti look the same, though. They’re going to need to do something obvious.”

Saraca’s bodyguard advanced, shredding through the Yeti assault. The temperature rose sharply as the Yeti advance buckled on itself and the Ice Worms brought their most powerful ability into play. Their backs started to glow, spiny carapaces turning bright orange.

『Go on the defensive. Gladestalkers: switch to slings. Don’t get singed!』

He wanted to tease out more of the Yeti force’s tactics, but it seemed that they had no patience for a methodical set of exchanges.

“「Resist Energy: Fire」.”

Karuvaki and three other Sacred Claws cast their abjurations on four of the warriors, who split up to block the two Ice Worms from advancing. To combatants who relied on natural weapons in melee, creatures like Ice Worms were some of the most problematic foes to face. Grievous harm could come from simply touching them; the heat was enough to melt steel weapons.

Bullets flew in over the warriors’ heads, smashing into the carapaces of their monstrous adversaries. An ear-piercing screech filled the tunnel when one of them crushed a compound eye.

『Form of the Mongoose!』

Powder streamed from the ceiling above as the injured Ice Worm thrashed wildly about. The warriors shifted to a lighter stance, deftly dancing back from the enraged creature. The Yeti nearby who weren’t so quick to respond were set aflame. Some were incinerated on the spot.

The familiar glow of healing magic washed over the Ice Worm’s sinuous form. Its destroyed eye restored itself.

“Cheeky apes,” Kasturi snarled. “They’re using the curves of the tunnels to heal from out of sight.”

“Should we just crush them?” Girika asked.

“As if,” Mitra’s eyes gleamed. “Saraca always does this, yes? Learning from our foes out here is more important than killing them. It’s not as if we can make any territorial gains so far from home.”

With their monstrous vanguard healed, the Yeti renewed their assault. Saraca’s bodyguard drove them back again to the same result.

“They’ll run out of mana eventually,” Karuvaki said. “I doubt they’re willing to lose their pets in a fruitless skirmish.”

“Probably not,” Saraca agreed.

He eyed the ceiling of the tunnel. The Yeti would likely collapse it behind them if they needed to disengage. The enemy Commander knew what he was doing, attacking and withdrawing with confidence.

“Saraca!”

Rana Saj appeared out of the southeastern tunnel. He and his retinue were covered in bloody gashes and burns.

“We’re pulling back,” the Lord of the Ki’ra said. “Nearly everyone else is already out.”

“Nearly no one came by here,” Saraca said.

“They broke into our tunnels in multiple places and split us up. It’s a good thing we made multiple exits.”

They followed Rana Saj through the passage behind the war room. The Yeti forces flooded in as soon as Saraca abandoned his position. As expected, the shrewd Yeti Commander abstained from reckless pursuit.

Five hundred metres down the slope, they emerged from the escape tunnel and into the darkness of the ongoing blizzard. The snow ahead was thoroughly trampled by the defenders’ retreat. Saraca took a deep breath, clearing away the odours of battle lingering in his nostrils.

“You know,” Rana Saj’s voice rose over the wind. “It kind of irritates me that your entire group is unscathed.”

“It takes a lot to wear us down,” Saraca replied. “We’ve been through a lot together. Also, I think with some adjustments to your retinue’s composition, you’d experience an unbelievable difference.”

“Composition, huh…” Rana Saj sighed. “In time, perhaps. Building something like what you have doesn’t happen overnight.”

“True enough. How did your forces do?”

“I only know about my flank, but we got thrashed. I can’t say I’ve ever been caught so thoroughly off guard in such a terrible position.”

“If it’s any consolation, that new Yeti King is two or three cuts above the average wilderness Lord. He may have turned all of those conquered tribes into loyal followers with that one battle.”

The more he thought about it, the more impressive it all felt. In the unenlightened lands, strength, aggression and the drive to dominate were far more effective tools for a ruler than goodwill, friendship and prosperity. The Yeti Lord that they were facing, however, displayed far more than savage brutality.

They rejoined Rol’en’gorek’s forces at the treeline, where the boughs of the conifers were heavily laden with wet snow. Bonfires were already raised all along the front and the defenders tended to the wounded around them. Rana Saj led them straight to a fire a hundred metres behind the lines. His amber gaze scanned the faces present.

“Rana Pwilere?”

“He hasn’t shown up yet,” one of the Con replied.

“Then how did the left flank do?” Rana Saj asked.

“We couldn’t hold. The withdrawal was a mess. How about you?”

“About as well as we look,” the Rana replied.

The tribal Lords sent puzzled looks across the fire.

“You look mostly fine.”

Rana Saj looked down at himself. The blood staining his striped orange coat was still there, but his wounds were mostly gone. His mouth fell agape, as did those of his retinue.

“What the…”

“You’re welcome,” Mitra said.

The once-wounded defenders looked over at the Chaaran.

“You…you did this?” Rana Saj asked.

“Spellsongs heal slowly,” Saraca informed them, “but it’s priceless in situations where you have time to heal. Since it’s a performance, it doesn’t use mana as Tier Magic does.”

“I didn’t hear her at all over this storm.”

“Well, it was a Dancer’s Form in this case. As useful as it is, the song version sounds like someone is strangling an especially fat Goblin.”

Mitra swatted him on the arm, but she couldn’t say that he was wrong. She was a peerless Bard whose conventional rendering of epics, poetry and songs could bring a Golem to tears, but her Spellsongs brought out tears of a different sort.

“If it’s not too much to ask,” Rana Saj said, “could we take advantage of your skills?”

“I don’t mind,” Mitra said. “But the radius of the effect is only thirty metres. You’ll have to figure out how to organise your wounded.”

Rana Saj looked at his warriors and nodded. The others at the bonfire did the same.

“Thank you,” Rana Saj said as his people dispersed. “We need all the help we can get at the moment.”

They settled down around the fire while the wounded were brought in around them. Though the defenders were appreciative of Mitra’s healing, their spirits remained subdued. Saraca quietly listened as various tribal Lords came in turn to deliver their reports. Including the results preceding the most recent battle, the local tribes had lost roughly half of their warriors. Clan Ki’ra was down by a third of their committed forces.

“I suppose the tribes here will be recovering in the lower valleys for the next few years,” Rana Saj said.

“Is that what usually happens?” Saraca asked.

“We haven’t seen a defeat like this since being pushed out of Erelesa,” the Rana answered. “But yes, that’s what usually happens. What’s up here can’t live down there. If the Yetis push their luck, they’ll lose the population advantage they’ve gained. Great Lords come and go, but this has been the way of things for as long as our history tells.”

“Now that you mention it,” Saraca said, “I’m curious how far back your history goes. From what we’ve gathered, some great calamity befell this region two centuries ago.”

“Yes, that’s right. The Demon Gods. Even to our enemies, they are known by that name. They brought ruin to every land that they touched.”

“Where did they come from?”

“Nowhere. Everywhere. There were many of them. Our legends speak of one akin to a Fire Elemental burning down the jungles and leaving us with nowhere to hide. Another came down like a mist from the high mountains, and our warriors could not hurt it as it went around and decimated the tribes. A great serpent with six wings came up the river, destroying all of the ships and great cities of yore. They…they say that the Demon Gods weren’t like monsters on a chaotic rampage: they destroyed everything on purpose – as if to erase even the memory of us from this world.”

“So you have absolutely no lore – oral or otherwise – of what came before?”

“None,” bitterness tinged Rana Saj’s voice. “We barely survived. They left us with nothing but ashes. Whenever my grandfather spoke of his journeys around the world and all of its wondrous nations, I would always wonder if we were once so grand as well. We at least probably wouldn’t be rolling around on the edge of the frontier with a bunch of Yetis.”

Saraca chuckled.

“Just to remind you, we have Yetis over on our side of the Worldspine as well. They’re actually worse than the ones here.”

“Report!”

A young Ki’ra hunter burst into the clearing. He was panting heavily, but had no visible wounds.

“Let’s hear it,” Rana Saj said.

“The Yeti tribes are advancing again,” the hunter told them. “It’s like the whole mountainside is moving towards us!”

“Well, great,” Rana Saj flicked an ear. “Sound the retreat. Let’s not be here when they arrive.”

“Not putting up one last fight?” Saraca asked him.

“Of course not,” Rana Saj scoffed. “As I said: that’s just how things are here. We’ll be back when we’re ready to fight on our terms.”