Chapter 9

21st Day, Upper Water Month, 0 CE

“Get out of here?” Rana Saj’s incredulous voice filled the silence following Mitra’s statement, “But we just got here. After a resounding victory, no less. We should be pressing our advantage and answering their brazen assault in kind.”

“That’s what they want us to do,” Mitra replied.

“How do you know that?”

“We captured an Ophidian Lord,” Saraca said. “She was just questioning it. What did you find out, Mitra?”

“They’re going to make it rain.”

Rana Saj’s tail crooked curiously.

“Make it rain?”

“Using magic,” Saraca told him. “The Sixth-tier–”

“Sixth-tier?!”

“I understand that it seems impossible, but if you have a Fourth-tier mystic–”

“Even Fourth-tier is impossible,” Rana Saj said. “We have never had any Fourth-tier mystics. Neither have the Jorgulans shown that sort of power, for that matter.”

Rana Saj's disbelief was understandable. Unless they were from a race of innate casters, Demihumans and Heteromorphs had difficulties advancing as magic casters. Those reaching the Third-tier of magic were celebrated by their communities.

“The Commonwealth doesn’t have any races like Naga?” Saraca asked, “Or any other natural casters? It’s difficult to claim that something is impossible if we don’t even know the entire membership of the Commonwealth.”

“Not that we’ve seen,” the Rana replied. “If it’s powerful magic casters you’re looking for, you’re on the wrong side of Rol’en’gorek.”

It wasn’t something they could simply ignore. Saraca looked up at the sky, but the clearing made by the river only offered a view of pristine blue skies.

“Kasturi,” he said. “Climb up and take a look around.”

“Got it.”

Less than five minutes later, the Gladestalker dropped back down in front of him.

“It’s happening,” she said. “Some out-of-place weather is forming over the pass. Just some big storm clouds sitting there, not moving with the wind.”

“But Sixth-tier…” Rana Saj said, “If they had access to this power the entire time, why now?”

There had to be some sequence of events that led to their present situation. He reviewed what he had learned since his arrival in Rol’en’gorek, quickly arriving at a likely explanation.

“It’s those Yeti,” Saraca said.

“Come again?”

“The Yeti we fought at the base of the Worldspine,” Saraca told Rana Saj. “They’re in league with the Commonwealth.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow…”

Saraca looked around at the gathered Baagh. None of them outside of his entourage appeared to understand what was going on. What caused this blindness? A sense of ‘normal’ fending away all reason? A refusal to think? No, it was simply ignorance over what was possible. The telltale curse of a people living in isolation from the rest of the world.

“The general state of Rol’en’gorek is no secret,” Saraca said. “Criers announce happenings in the west. The major clans are well-known. They don’t even need to have spies: just visitors from Rol’en’gorek in the Tears of Lut boasting of the achievements that their country has made. Change in your region arrives through two agents: Rana Dratha’s expansion in the west and the Yeti Lord newly arrived in your part of the Worldspine. Both the masters of the Commonwealth and the Great Lut wish to maintain the status quo.”

“If they wanted to do something about it,” Rana Saj said, “the Storm Dragon Lord could have done so directly.”

“Dragons aren’t like that,” Saraca told him. “They tend to be more subtle because they have all the time in the world to enact change. Furthermore, they have certain considerations of their own. Unless they believe direct action is necessary, they will not personally intervene. In this case, it may just be the Yetis and the Commonwealth doing all of the work, but Stormport will not dissuade them.”

“But why would this Yeti Lord join with them and not us?”

“Because they came from the east. These Yeti have probably known the Jorgulans for years or decades. They might have even fought them until they were satisfied with the outcome. Actually, we interrogated another Lord a while ago and he didn’t consider their northern border a contested region. Also, in hindsight, that blizzard from back then probably wasn’t a coincidence. Too many disparate things are lining up perfectly. The Jorgulan resistance you’re meeting in the north right now is probably there so that the Yeti ritualists can stay in range of the pass.”

“They could have just waited until we moved on,” Rana Saj noted. “They’re taking losses for nothing.”

“They probably don’t know that. The ritualists should also be keeping up this magically-induced weather for as long as it takes to eliminate your forces.”

“But why now?”

"Because the Yeti are ready to advance. Plus Clan Ki’ra is present. Your Clan provides backup forces to all of the clans in the north where the Yetis are going to advance. Using the Commonwealth to eliminate you here will save them trouble in the long run.”

“This seems suspiciously convenient…”

“It is convenient,” Saraca told him. “That’s why it’s likely. Both the Commonwealth and the Yeti stand to gain from your loss. They can't directly do anything about what’s going on in the Draconic Kingdom, so they have to set Rol’en’gorek back preemptively.”

Rana Saj sighed, a conflicted expression crossing his features.

“The most you lose from an early withdrawal is a single season of raiding,” Saraca told him. “You will be obliterated if this plan of theirs is as we fear. It’s more important to return to Rol’en’gorek with what you know than it is to hold this position. Well, it may already be too late – all your people can do is fight to get home.”

“And what will you be doing?” Rana Saj asked.

“We still have business in Rol’en’gorek,” Saraca answered, “so we’ll be heading back as well. With you, hopefully.”

The ruler of Clan Ki’ra looked around at the assembled warriors, then out to the still-smoking battlefield.

“Send runners out,” he said. “The warbands are ordered to withdraw without delay! Stay far away from the rivers and creeks for as long as possible.”

It wasn’t long until the Jorgulan forces reacted to their sudden withdrawal. The sound of a distant explosion filtered through the trees.

“Great,” Girika said. “They’re sending those crazy beetle things after us.”

“Quiet, husband,” Kasturi said. “I’m trying to hear what’s going on.”

Several more explosions sounded through the trees, followed by the unwelcome cry of a Dragon.

“Oh, even better,” Girika rolled his eyes. “Dragons are bombing us with Ka’ak. No wonder they brought the damn things out. Do their gas attacks ignite, too?”

“Do we have a plan for this?” Karuvaki asked.

“I can’t say I’ve ever planned for Dragons dropping exploding bugs on us while a bunch of Ichaani and Ophidians chase us up a flooding pass.”

“You can do it, ji!” Mitra cheered Saraca on.

What do you want from me?

He didn’t think that there was a Warmaster in existence who could come up with some sort of miraculous stratagem for their situation. At least not with Clan Ki’ra’s available assets.

“Any plan we enact will have to rely on our enemies’ stupidity,” he said. “We have no proper flying assets and this canopy keeps us from fending them off with ranged attacks.”

“Then we’ll kill all of the stupid ones!” Girika said, “It will be that much fewer to deal with.”

Well, that makes a sort of sense.

The Ichaani would be too slow to keep up, as would the Ophidians. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

“How do your Dragonslayers fight, Rana Saj?” He asked, “Is there some way that they keep these Dragons on the ground?”

He wanted to see how they worked in action, but this was far from the controlled case that he expected.

“We have no way to get them to land without luring them in,” Rana Saj answered. “Once they do, we use movement-impeding Martial Arts to keep them grounded.”

“That sounds normal enough,” Saraca said. “How many Dragons have they slain?”

“Er…one? My father took a few out to kill that Brass Dragon near the Singh lands bordering the Great Lut.”

Saraca sent Rana Saj a flat look.

“We killed a few Jorgulan Green Dragons in the past,” Rana Saj said. “Once you prove that you can harm them, they become much more cautious.”

“I’ll take that,” Saraca said. “Kasturi, find us some open terrain to follow up the pass.”

The Gladestalker led them downhill. Rana Saj sent a nervous look at her back.

“If the rains truly come,” he said, “we don’t want to be following a creek bed.”

“Water takes time to travel,” Saraca told him. “We have time enough to do this.”

They came across a brook that the dry season had reduced to a long procession of shallow pools going up the slope. The canopy still covered it, only offering a few gaps at points along the way.

“Will this do?” Karuvaki asked.

“Of course,” Kasturi answered. “They’re Dragons. If we’re not concealing ourselves, they’ll spot us through one of these holes from kilometres away.”

“Then let’s keep going,” Saraca said. “I’m sure they’ll announce themselves in some dramatic fashion.”

The dramatic entrance came in the form of a Ka’ak, which splattered on the rocks ahead of them and exploded. A second insectoid struck one of the branches overhanging the brook, transforming a tree into a blazing inferno.

“Just two?” Saraca tried to spot their airborne attacker.

“Two is more than enough, I think,” Rana Saj said.

“Well, they have four legs. They could probably fit a few in their mouths, as well.”

“Stop trying to optimise a damn Dragon,” Girika said. “You’re not gonna find any that’ll carry cargo around like an airship.”

“Just saying…let’s time how long it takes to get back with more Ka’ak.”

Rana Saj and his warband instinctively ducked as another two beetles exploded nearby.

“Or more Dragons could come to bomb us,” Saraca muttered. “I hope we can keep track of all of them. Rana Saj, your warband doesn’t have to travel so near to us. We’re just here to attract attention.”

“You seem eerily used to this,” Rana Saj said.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“That’s how it is when you have Minotaurs as neighbours. That damn guru filled their heads with all sorts of crazy ideas.”

They kept going. Two more Dragons attacked them about five minutes apart.

“Are those different Dragons or the same Dragons?”

“It’s hard to tell,” Kasturi replied. “We’ll assume five minutes between airstrikes for now.”

The Gladestalkers spread out, searching the way forward for a better vantage. Saraca and the rest of his entourage continued following the bottom of the dried brook, occasionally sending glances over their shoulders.

“If they’re this inaccurate,” Girika said, “I wonder if they’ve managed to do any damage at all.”

“Just causing confusion and slowing Clan Ki’ra down is enough,” Saraca replied. “But it also just goes to show how little these Green Dragons care for their underlings…or maybe they just need practice.”

Every explosion that echoed over the pass was another dead Ka’ak. Some argued that specialised insectoids were just meant to be used that way, but he always wondered how the ones being sacrificed felt about it.

Five minutes passed and they stopped to prepare for another flyby. If the Dragons were flying back and forth to pick up new Ka’ak, it shouldn’t take them more than a minute to cover the extra distance. Kasturi and the other Gladestalkers loaded bullets into their slings, gazing intently down the ravine.

The first Dragon crossed perpendicular to the ravine, giving their Gladestalkers no chance to track their target. Fortunately, it also meant that the Dragon had a small window to drop its living explosives. The two beetles smashed into the far slope of the ravine, exploding a dozen metres above Saraca and his entourage. They ignored the debris that rained lightly on them, searching for the second Green Dragon.

“Adult Green,” Kasturi called out, “coming straight up the ravine.”

A dozen seconds passed before the Dragon registered in Saraca’s vision. It settled into a glide as it made its final approach, nearly twenty metres from wingtip to wingtip. A wave of Dragonfear washed over them, but he brushed it off. Several of Rana Saj’s warriors bolted deeper into the trees with terrified cries.

Is it going to strafe us too? I hope it heads this way instead of after those fleeing warriors…

Many predatory races had strong instincts that influenced their behaviour. Apex predators usually had one set of instincts that revolved around hunting, and another that dealt with challenges to their territorial dominance. Between chasing Rana Saj’s fleeing warriors and dealing with the impudent Baagh standing their ground before it: Saraca wasn’t sure which course the Dragon would take.

The Green Dragon slowed as it continued its silent glide. That was a good sign. It held its trajectory towards Saraca, cyan eyes fixed on his entourage.

At a hundred metres, the Gladestalkers let loose. The Green Dragon’s expression seemed to turn derisive at the sight of the smooth stone bullets hurtling towards it. Rocks obviously couldn’t penetrate scales as hard as steel.

But then its wing exploded near the shoulder. More bullets shredded apart what was left. The Dragon shrieked as it tumbled out of the sky, crashing into the stony bottom of the ravine. It skidded to a halt a few dozen metres in front of them.

『Finish it off!』

Saraca’s awaiting warriors pounced before the Dragon could recover from its daze. The Gladestalkers were halfway done dressing the kill before Rana Saj came out to join them.

“Dragons seem much less threatening if they can be put down like that,” he said. “What did your hunters use? Some specially-enchanted bullets?”

“Uh, some rocks from the dried stream over there,” Kasturi gestured loosely with a claw.

“But regular stones won’t penetrate dragonhide…”

“That’s true, but only a lesser enchantment is necessary to bypass an Adult Green Dragon’s defences. Our slings are enchanted weapons, and mundane projectiles from enchanted weapons still count as enchanted projectiles for that sort of thing.”

“I-I’ll take your word for it…but it’s still a rock. It shouldn’t have done so much damage.”

“I’m a Gladestalker? Also, there were some Martial Arts thrown in there. Let’s see…Greater Ability Boost, Shattering Strikes, Tracking Shot, Wing Clip…that’s it, I think? I guess I used some ranged Skills, too.”

Rana Saj’s jaw dropped open and his whiskers drooped.

“But…but that must mean you are at least as strong as my father,” he said.

“My father said that Goro was Rathi-class,” Saraca nodded, “so that should be correct.”

“I’m not familiar with that classification,” Rana Saj said.

“Rathi-class individuals are those who can kill five thousand regular warriors on their own, assuming they fight to the best of their ability.”

“…and what counts as a ‘regular warrior’?”

“Hmm…amongst your people, a warrior that has seen a successful campaign season, perhaps.”

The warriors of Rana Saj’s warband exchanged stupefied looks.

“I knew my father was strong,” Rana Saj said, “but I didn’t know he was that strong. I also wasn’t aware that you kept such renowned company.”

“Strength is crucial to our mission,” Saraca replied, “but only in the sense that it allows us to fulfil our duties without substantial interference from belligerents. It will also avail your forces little if they get caught in this trap.”

Life as a warrior would be much more convenient if one’s enemies would line up nicely to be defeated in order, but that was seldom the case. No matter how strong one was, they couldn’t be everywhere at once.

As Rana Saj had stated, felling one Dragon served as a deterrent for the rest. They continued their ascent unmolested, but the sound of distant explosions still occasionally rolled over them.

“This is going to be a problem if your Dragonslayers can’t get rid of those Dragons,” Saraca said. “No one’s going to be able to rest.”

If the Jorgulan Dragons were allowed to refine their tactics, they would become severely problematic for Rol’en’gorek. Active Dragons could go for weeks without rest, and their harassment would turn any battlefield into a sleepless hell.

“It should only be a matter of time,” Rana Saj told him. “We may not be able to bring them down as reliably as your warband, but a dead Dragon is difficult to replace. I wonder if this is happening in other sections of the front…”

“That’s doubtful,” Saraca said. “It doesn’t have to happen on all sections of the front, either. All countries must maintain a careful balancing act when it comes to security against foreign threats. A crack in that defence can be enough to lead to a complete collapse.”

“If this is all they’re bringing to bear, we should be able to manage. The other warrior clans can make up for the deficit. I can’t imagine that another threat of the same magnitude will suddenly appear.”

“You don’t have any other powerful neighbours that might take advantage of the situation?” Saraca asked.

“I don’t think so. The wildland tribes in the north will have that Yeti Lord to worry about. Our tribal neighbours to the south can be fierce, but they are independent of one another and too small to be a threat. The Draconic Kingdom is already being dealt with. There is a tribe of Human Wyvern riders in the furthest northwest – they’re highly territorial, but they keep to themselves.”

“What about the lands beyond the Draconic Kingdom?”

“The Draconic Kingdom borders the coast, so it should be safe.”

“Is it the same Syrillian Way that runs south of the Great Lut?”

“I don’t know. It’s possible. One day, we will send explorers to find out. If we’re lucky, there will be more Humans – they’re much easier to deal with than other Demihuman races.”

Even while they’re getting beaten down, conquest is their first thought.

Then again, if one warred constantly, warfare became a way of life. It was something that fed into itself and took on a life of its own. He prayed for their sake that they wouldn’t trip over a previously-unknown scion of the Eight.

The scent of rainfall permeated the air when they resumed their retreat the next day. Kasturi led them further up the ravine’s slopes, as the previously-dry brook had grown into a trickle overnight. Rana Saj eyed the steadily growing flow from above, then looked to the ranges in the north.

“If the source of this weather is a ritual being conducted by powerful Yeti mystics,” he said, “could we not end the threat by disrupting it?”

“No,” Saraca said. “Rituals indeed take preparation and time to conduct, but it’s not a continuous thing. The spell is cast only after the ritual is completed. Most rituals for higher-tier spells take a minute or two at most. Longer processes that use rituals such as Golem creation can take weeks or months depending on the Golem, but the rituals involved are done in short segments.”

“Then why would they hold the position to stay in range?”

“Just in case they need to refresh the spell. Control Weather can last up to eight days if a Druid is casting it with duration-extending metamagic, but we should be over the pass before the duration ends.”

At least he hoped that it would be the case. The top of the pass was a mere thirty kilometres away, but anything could happen. That the Jorgulans attempted to bait them into a protracted exchange of raids at the river gave him hope that Clan Ki’ra could escape if they immediately withdrew.

The brook continued to swell over the day, turning into a churning torrent of silty water by mid-afternoon. Saraca occasionally looked over his shoulder, wary of new signs of pursuit.

“What are the chances that something catches up to us?” He asked.

“We should still be increasing our lead over even the Ophidians,” Rana Saj answered, “but it will become more difficult once we leave the jungle and go into that forest above. Our pace will slow significantly. Once it floods, the aquatic races will swiftly overtake us.”

“Would it be better to consolidate our forces in that case? If your people must fight, it would be better to fight as a cohesive force.”

“I plan on doing that,” Rana Saj replied. “The runners issued orders to gather near the treeline for the final push. As the fastest group, we’ll get a day or so of rest before we move on.”

Since Rol’en’gorek’s broad strategy on the Jorgulan Frontier involved remaining dispersed to stay provisioned, conduct independent actions and avoid Dragon attacks that exploited concentrations of force, it also made it difficult to form proper battle lines. The haphazard organisation of the Jorgulan forces gave him a sense that it wouldn’t be as bad as facing a proper army, but the presence of Dragons cast many assumptions to the wind.

They left the jungle proper early in the evening, entering the tangled mess of coniferous forest below the treeline. The thousands of brooks and streams flowing down the slopes were engorged by rainwater, making the landscape seem like a collection of miserable islands beset on every side by violent waters. Uprooted bushes and even trees were carried past them as they clawed their way up the valley.

“Our Druids would like to file a complaint with the local management,” Karuvaki said.

“Tell them to get in line,” Saraca growled. “I can’t imagine the destruction this is going to cause downstream.”

Since the Commonwealth was populated by many amphibious and semi-aquatic races, they probably wouldn’t mind it as much as the Beastmen of Rol’en’gorek. Still, he could imagine the outcry if this happened in other parts of the world.

They stopped and waited as Rana Saj’s warband lined up single-file to leap across a muddy gap gouged out by the recent torrent. The sheer unnaturalness of the situation was marked by the perfectly clear evening skies in the east and the churning stormclouds swirling over the pass to the west.

After making the crossing, Kasturi led them to a rocky outcropping that offered little shelter save for the fact that it wouldn’t get washed away in a mudslide. The members of Saraca’s entourage moved boulders around and sundered slabs of rock to form makeshift shelters. By nightfall, they had relatively dry places to sleep warmed by modest campfires hidden away from aerial observers.

“What do you think they have in store for us, Rana Saj?” Saraca asked.

“This situation is so irregular that I can’t imagine what else might happen,” the Rana answered. “Hopefully nothing, but I somehow doubt that will be the case.”

“How cold can that pass get in the winter?”

“Cold enough…wait, are you implying that the Yeti will be waiting for us there?”

“It doesn’t necessarily have to be the Yeti,” Saraca replied, “but they are a force unaccounted for. Since it’s been raining rather than snowing, I’m inclined to believe that they won’t be at the top of the pass. They would have made conditions more favourable for themselves if so.”

Ultimately, it was speculation. With the ever-present threat of an attack, he didn’t want to use any mana for divination. They would need to wait until they reached the treeline to investigate what lay beyond.

They took what rest they could, waking to find that the water levels had risen even further. Saraca scratched his head over the sheer recklessness of the environmental assault.

“I wonder if the Jorgulans knew the full extent of what this plan entailed,” he mused.

“It seems ideal for them,” Rana Saj looked down at the flowing waters sourly. “We’re going to be trapped on islands at this rate. The pace of our pursuers will be picking up, as well.”

“Do you see a way out for us, Kasturi?” Saraca asked.

“We can still follow this ridge we’re on,” the Gladestalker answered. “We may need to wade through some sections, but we’re not stuck yet.”

They filed out of the camp, entering the area affected by Control Weather two hours after noon. Everyone stopped and stared at the veritable wall of rain obscuring the scenery ahead of them.

“Seeing this,” Saraca said, “I almost want to just stay here and fight.”

“Would you like us to scout ahead?” Kasturi asked.

“Three hours,” Saraca answered. “See what you can find out in that time. I assume Rana Saj doesn’t want to camp in the rain.”

“You assume correctly,” the Rana let out a helpless laugh. “We’ll have to dig in here and wait for the rest. Hopefully, we get a good showing.”

“Then we should at least prepare a warm welcome,” Saraca said. “Karuvaki, can you turn our miserable little mound a bit more hospitable?”

“I’ll get together with the others and figure something out,” Karuvaki replied. “How much mana can we use?”

“Let’s keep our reserves at two-thirds. We should be resting here for a day or two, so keep mana consumption in pace with that. Feel free to involve the Ki’ra mystics, if they’re interested.”

The priestess nodded and turned to gather the entourage’s casters. A thoughtful expression crossed Rana Saj’s features as they watched them organise from a distance.

“You’ve become much more forthcoming with your assistance,” he said.

“I believe it is appropriate in our circumstances,” Saraca replied. “And I appreciate your understanding of mine.”

“Well, you’ve saved our hides twice now,” Rana Saj told him. “I don’t want to seem ungrateful. My father always told me how you Confederacy types seem almost aloof to outsiders when it comes to sharing your knowledge and lending assistance.”

Saraca settled down on a slab of rock where a bonfire was being set up nearby.

“It’s a lesson that we had to learn the hard way,” he said. “With so many races in the Confederacy, one would like to think that those in the world beyond are just like us, but they’re not. Our world has been shattered, overturned and transformed so many times that ten different Baagh communities in ten different parts of the continent could be in entirely different places culturally, technologically and psychologically. What we intend for good can be turned to evil; power meant to bring about an age of prosperity instead delivering generations of destructive conflict or even the end of entire nations.”

He himself had defied the wisdom of those more experienced in the past, to sorrowful results. Even so, he still tried to look for the promise in others rather than arbitrarily turning a cold shoulder like so many.

Rana Saj didn’t take his eyes off the group working to create a livable space.

“I see,” he said. “I can only imagine how others have received your austere approach.”

Why didn’t you help us? Why are you just watching us die? Why don’t you let us learn? Do you think you’re so much better than we are? Who gave you the right to decide? Do you believe yourself some sort of god, watching us squirm beneath you?

A thousand other questions along the same vein assailed Saraca and his entourage wherever they went. In a way, it made it easy to figure out who was worthy and who was not. At the same time, he couldn’t blame them for asking.

“All living things struggle for their right to survive,” Saraca said. “I can only judge based on the standards that the Confederacy expects its affiliates to uphold.”

“Well, hopefully, we hold up to your scrutiny.”

Saraca raised a paw and clapped the Baagh Lord on the shoulder.

“Better than most, Rana Saj. Better than most.”