Valkyrie's Shadow

The Tiger and the Dragon: Act 3, Chapter 13

The Tiger and the Dragon: Act 3, Chapter 13

Chapter 13

10th Day, Upper Wind Month, 1 CE, 2100 Hours

“Goro, it’s been a while.”

“Thurgakhr,” Goro’s tail waved lazily. “I haven’t seen you since we started this job.”

His clanmate’s ear twitched.

“Job, huh…I don’t recall ‘fight Undead hordes’ in the job description.”

Goro’s tail stopped. His gaze went over the cliffs of the valley and across to the other side. In the dying light of the dusk, a vast army of unnatural evil slowly crept forward.

“Well, we do get a bonus for this,” Goro said. “I question whether it’s worth it, though.”

“It won’t be,” Thurgakhr snarled. “From what I’ve seen, the tribes will all claim as much as they can. Those with little fight the hardest for the smallest gains.”

Goro flicked his ears in annoyance. Thurgakhr was almost certainly correct. Their contracts offered provisions as needed with pay that was barely acceptable for those of nar Ki’ra. Nar Ki’ra empathised with their situation, however, as the tribes coming to this land would be of limited means. Unfortunately, layers of pettiness and pride built up over time and wore Goro’s patience thin.

Those with honour and fortune lavished honour and fortune on those who served them. This was the way of mighty rulers. The Lords of the urmah Kisher did no such thing, however. They made much out of little and fought over it like mangy strays over refuse in the meanest alleys of Ghrkhor’storof’hekheralhr.

“Well,” Goro said, “they won’t claim anything so ludicrous as destroying an Elder Lich. Probably. Speaking of which, did anyone manage to spot the masters of this Undead army?”

“None that I spoke with,” Thurgakhr replied. “They should be out there…Elder Liches that stand around in plain view do not exist for long, so I don’t expect to see any until their appearance is warranted. Is something bothering you?”

Goro turned his gaze upwards, to the Undead raptors still catching the evening light with their bone-white frames.

“Those are Bone Vultures,” he said. “They are too strong for weaker Elder Liches to dominate in great numbers. Some caught glimpses of Blood Meat Hulks, as well.”

“In that case,” Thurgakhr said, “we should withdraw.”

“We cannot withdraw,” Goro told her. “We can only advise our employers to withdraw. I doubt that they will this time. They’ve pulled back four times already and it chafes on their pride. Logistically speaking, they cannot hold the tribes together like this for much longer anyway. They will begin to disperse soon for food.”

In truth, some already had, but they weren’t going far. Eventually, however, the surroundings would be picked clean and no amount of pride would be able to stave off their hunger.

“If only these Undead would attack,” Goro growled. “A flock of Bone Vultures tearing apart a tribe or two would make the Lords think twice.”

“Our Undead opponent is shrewd,” Thurgakhr agreed. “Urmah Kisher will not perceive their peril until it is too late…you know, the fact that many of these Undead are in our form is odd.”

“What do you mean?”

“These are Human lands, no? The Undead here should be Human in appearance, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Hmm…”

She had a point. Why were Undead Beastmen coming from what was supposedly Human-dominated territory? Spectral Undead such as Wraiths appeared as the same race as whoever observed them, but corporeal Undead did no such thing.

“You believe that the way the tribes are being manipulated is the work of an Undead Elder Lich that understands our kind?"

“That is the immediate concern,” Thurgakhr replied. “But I also wonder if our kind used to live here once. For there to be so many Undead Beastmen, there must have been a great Beastman country here once, no? I would like to see what lies beyond that mist – maybe we’d find the ruins of some civilisation from before the cycle of calamity.”

“Ever the romantic,” Goro’s tail waved idly again. “You should have been a Bard like your parents. My grandson would have already taken you as a mate if you had done so.”

Thurgakhr cringed away.

“Wh-what does that have to do with anything?! It’s not as if I came here for him!”

“Just saying…”

“S-speaking of which, where is he? I thought he’d be with you here.”

Ah, to be young again…

“I sent him to warn nar Toroghka,” Goro told her. “Urmah Kisher made sure to boast of their coming exploits, but the warrior clans need a real assessment of the threat should the worst come to pass.”

“I see…”

“Maybe you should go, as well.”

“I’m not here to chase the tail of some male!”

He chuckled at her flustered reaction. The reality was that things were becoming increasingly dire by the hour. Or perhaps his instincts and reason were being twisted by the oppressive aura being cast over them. Such things happened when the surroundings grew thick with the evil miasma of the Undead. Even seasoned warriors could fall victim to its insidious effects.

“Goro!” Someone shouted his way, “Il-Enhorshr has called for you.”

Goro looked one more time at the Undead mass creeping towards the deep valley before turning away. If the Lords were similarly affected, maybe he had the chance to talk some sense into them.

His steps took him southwest to an outcropping worn bald by the elements. There, il-Enhorshr stood over his tribal Lords. He made a striking figure in the failing light: a tall, white urmah Lord with a pale mane that streamed in the wind.

“Goro!” He raised a paw in greeting, “We have settled on our plans for the coming battle.”

It would be nice if you consulted the warriors that you hired for this planning…

He came forward, craning his neck to look up at the Clanlord. Il-Enhorshr folded his paws behind his back as he looked down at him.

“Victory shall be ours,” il-Enhorshr declared.

“Is that so, il-Enhorshr?”

“What other outcome can there be?” The Clanlord said, “The Lord of Storms has blessed us with clear skies and a bright moon. The valley is steep and its ways are narrow. What Undead do not tumble to their dooms will be swept away by the river. What few make the crossing will be overwhelmed by our brave tribesmen!”

To the il-Enhorshr’s credit, the general ideas were sound. Except…

“It would be unthinkable for a living army to assail this position,” Goro said, “but we do not face the living. The Undead do not, tire or drown so the river will not sweep them away. Climbing our side of the valley will not exhaust them. The high ground will lend weight to your people’s strikes and weaken those of the Undead, but it is not all Skeletons and Zombies.”

“But the stronger Undead sighted are few and far between,” il-Enhorshr noted.

“What of the Undead flying above?”

“Lions do not fear birds, Goro.”

Goro walked around the outcropping, placing the Clanlord’s ‘platform’ between himself and the tribal Lords. It commanded a wide view of the valley bend, but offered no insight into il-Enhorshr’s unflinching confidence. He lowered his voice so that only il-Enhorshr could hear him.

“Skeletons and Zombies are but mere fodder to Elder Liches,” Goro said. “They are as captives forced to the front lines of battle. Only after they are expended and your tribespeople wearied will the true strength of this army show itself.”

“And that is where the nar Ki'ra come in, yes?” Il-Enhorshr's voice drifted down from behind him, “Not only do we have dozens of stalwart warriors, but we have Goro nar Ki'ra, silencer of Amne’hoden=Phinixion the-one-who-never-shuts-up.”

Goro’s ears went flat.

“Why does that particular achievement have to be the one that people always refer to…”

“Slaying an Adult Brass Dragon is a feat worthy of a hero.”

“The growing ransom for that nuisance would have gotten him killed sooner or later.”

Amne’hoden=Phinixion was a Brass Dragon that laired somewhere in the Great Lut. He often flew over to chat with Merchants who transported salt from the vast pans in the desert. The problem was that he never stopped chatting if there was an ear to hear him. Eventually, those who suffered from weeks of sleep deprivation due to his incessant ‘socialising’ started a pool to end his gregarious reign.

Finding the Dragon was a simple matter. All they had to do was join a Merchant caravan and he showed up to engage in endless conversation.

“It’s not as if he was an Elder Dragon or anything,” Goro said. “We were able to prepare in advance to fight him, as well.”

“You are too modest, Goro,” il-Enhorshr chuckled. “How can the Undead compare to Dragons?”

“Even if we prevail,” Goro said, “your clan will suffer grievous losses.”

“You know that this was always the expectation.”

Goro kicked a rock over the escarpment, watching it bounce off of the cliff face every few dozen metres before vanishing into the vegetation at the bottom. Il-Enhorshr spoke the truth, though the truth had come delayed.

Many who had come to the Draconic Kingdom were expected to fall in battle as they advanced into the Human country. The advance orchestrated by Kal’il-Endratha nar Torokgha did see thousands of losses with every battle early on, but little did they know that avenging the death of their Warmaster would cause the Draconic Kingdom’s defence to collapse in its entirety.

There was supposed to be more. A vast cadre of powerful casters that summoned Angels to wreak havoc amongst the tribes. Paladins armed and armoured in enchanted equipment riding powerful steeds. An army well-seasoned and every bit as disciplined as the Great Goblin Armies of the furthest east.

When the invasion was called, the tribes flooded into the Oriculon Reach, crushing the Draconic Kingdom’s border defences like a dried-out eggshell. Under the Warmaster’s leadership, their border defences were suppressed, three cities fell in rapid succession and half of the Human lands were taken. Then, the Warmaster consolidated their advance to prepare for the inevitable retaliation…except, it never came.

The turn to the conflict – or rather the lack of it – resulted in colossal problems for the Beastman tribes. Simply put, there were too many Beastmen and not enough land to support them.

To make things worse, the campaign to encourage migration extended far past the date of the invasion. While the invasion was being planned, it was considered a prudent measure as they expected stiff resistance by Human defenders once their intent became apparent. The clans at home were more than happy to send people, which would in turn free up space in their territories.

In the end, all they could do was advance west. When they reached the sea, they went northwest. Then, they reached the places bereft of prey before the Katze Plains, which no tribe would risk crossing. The mountains in the north were well-known to be Wyvern-infested, so that was similarly not an option. The way to their old home was barred to them, so the tribes were essentially stuck where they were with starvation looming on the horizon.

Reducing their numbers through Infighting would have the entire situation devolve into a chaotic bloodbath between the clans, but the Undead provided a convenient foe to throw themselves at without political repercussions. ‘Well, we were going to lose people anyway’ appeared to have become the justification for any losses they would sustain. The weak would perish and only the worthy would remain.

“I will speak frankly with you, il-Enhorshr,” Goro said. “The world does not so conveniently produce perfect results according to one’s expectations. We are not the only ones working our will upon events. Consider what the advance of this Undead army may mean.”

“We already discussed this, no? The slaughter in the Human capital has attracted the malevolent gaze of whatever controls our foe.”

“And do you believe that, simply because of this, the Undead will only act as a mindless swarm until they reach their destination? That any actions against them will not provoke whatever is controlling it? That there is not already some great evil underway?”

“You have brought this up thrice before, Goro,” il-Enhorshr said. “We merely run in circles with endless suppositions. The Undead will encroach upon our lands within a day. There is nothing to do but defend it.”

A rumbling growl rose from Goro’s chest at the futility of it all. Il-Enhorshr may have been stubborn about the nature of the approaching Undead army, but he was also correct about other realities. Urmah Kisher’s territory had to be defended; no one else would defend it for them and no one could afford to take them in should they flee. Not anymore, at any rate.

“Then let us hear of your plan for defence,” Goro said. “Nar Ki’ra will see what it can do to facilitate your success.”

Goro returned to stand with the tribal Lords, listening to il-Enhorshr divide the tribes into groups. Each group was assigned to defend one of five approaches that the Undead could use to come up from the valley. A smaller group of tribes was positioned to hold a bridge strung out over the narrow gorge after which the river emptied into a small bay. They would wait for the Undead to come to them and fight from the high ground on their side of the valley.

Overall, it was a simple plan, but simple did not mean ineffective. In fact, it was often the opposite. The best plans were usually simple and easy to carry out. Considering that urmah Kisher was composed of regular tribespeople, it was wise to keep things that way.

“I didn’t hear any mention of a rearguard,” Goro said.

“The Undead are not in the rear,” il-Enhorshr’s muzzle shifted. “Or have you received new information from your clansfolk?”

“I have not. But we have dozens of Bone Vultures over our heads and there may be more Undead moving somewhere unseen.”

“Would nar Ki’ra not detect these movements?”

“If they were on land, most likely. But not only do we have flying Undead present: the sea is close and the Undead do not need to breathe.”

A discussion broke out between the tribal lords as they considered his words. Irritation grew within him as their words grew heated.

“We will not give up our position!” One tribal Lord roared, “Lesser tribes may cower, but not us!”

“Who are these ‘lesser tribes’?” Another growled, “What are you insinuating?”

I should have seen this coming…

Once again, the petty nature of urmah Kisher rose to the fore. Every tribe saw the coming battle as an opportunity to gain prestige and solidify themselves as a dominant force in the clan. It was one part ambition, one part pride and one part fear: those who achieved little would be the first to be cast aside in a situation where resources were steadily dwindling.

Goro turned his gaze to the Bone Vultures circling overhead. Could they hear them and understand what was being said? Enough were flying around that they wouldn’t be able to tell whether they were taking turns to report to their unseen master.

In the end, no one would accept the rearguard. The tribal Lords received their assignments and went their separate ways. Goro went to a clear space where he could easily be seen and let out a low roar that carried into the distance. In ones and twos, members of nar Ki’ra arrived.

“What has urmah Kisher decided?” One of them asked when all had gathered.

“They have committed themselves to holding the Undead here,” Goro answered. “We must do what we can to make sure they survive the night.”

His clanmates exchanged looks, but all remained attentive to his words. Males and females from young adults on up were present, but even the youngest understood their place. It felt a waste if they were to fall here, but, at the same time, the fame and integrity of their clan was built upon circumstances like these.

“First of all,” he said, “did anyone notice anything amiss on our side of the river?”

Goro’s gaze crossed over the gathering, who shook their heads as their eyes met.

“Then the plan is as follows,” he continued. “There are five ways up from the valley here and urmah Kisher has placed its tribes above them. We must divide ourselves between these places to reinforce their position. The tribespeople here are…impetuous, but do your best to advise them when you can. Do not be surprised if they do not listen.”

“What about the bridge crossing the canyon to the west?” A young male to his side asked.

“It is a rope bridge,” Goro turned to answer. “A very long one. It can support perhaps two wagons at a time. If hundreds of Undead cross at once, it will surely collapse. Some of the tribes have been placed there, so they should be able to handle the trickle that can make the span safely.”

“What will we do about these Bone Vultures?” Another male’s voice came from behind.

He cast a baleful gaze at the moon-lit silhouettes circling above.

“I am under no illusion that they won’t attack during the battle. But because our enemy has demonstrated restraint uncharacteristic of the Undead, we have no idea what they will do. It will be difficult to track everything – especially if we lose the moonlight – but pounce on any Bone Vultures that you see come down. Enlist the help of the nearby tribespeople.”

“The idea of relying on urmah Kisher does not sit well with me,” someone said. “They are as likely to rend one another in a frenzy as the enemy. Would it not be more prudent for us to fight in groups?”

“We would lose coverage if we do…” Goro scratched his ear, “No, you’re right. There are Undead strong enough here to do more than simply tire us. This battle will be large enough that small injuries will be debilitating over its course. Combine into groups of four. Try and convince nearby tribes to rally around you and secure the support of their mystics.”

“Are they simply leaving their children behind?”

“…I’ve actually been in front the entire time, so I have no idea where they’ve positioned them. Do you know?”

“They’re still in the camps. What if the Undead attack them while they’re unattended?”

Was it possible? As shrewd as the Undead controller appeared to be, he questioned whether they would employ tactics like that. The Undead tended to go after personal weaknesses rather than ties of blood and kinship. Never in his experience did the Undead use what might be considered the methods of the living – they were always direct in their unnatural way.

“I don’t believe an Undead opponent would purposely do so,” Goro said, “but it brings up another concern. The Undead we see may not be all of them. Some might come out of the bay to the south, so we’ll need eyes out there.”

A half-dozen young hunters volunteered for the task. Goro gave them a nod and they ran off into the night. He split the rest into three groups of four for each position. After seeing them off, he returned to the outcropping where il-Enhorshr gazed out over the valley.

“Il-Enhorshr,” Goro said. “I’ve distributed a dozen warriors to each approach.”

“Good,” the Urmah Lord continued watching the valley. “Our enemies have already taken their first losses.”

“They have?”

He followed il-Enhorshr’s gaze to where the Undead teemed like maggots on rotting meat. Occasionally, one of the Zombies or Skeletons was pushed off the cliffs where they gathered. The fall was too great for simple Undead to survive.

“If only they were so nice as to do that five thousand times more,” Goro said.

The Undead slowly made their way down a half dozen shallow slopes all along the riverbend. They disappeared into the shadows of the valley and were occasionally made visible through clearings exposed to the bright moonlight. Thirty minutes later, they had made it to the shores of the river, walking without pause into the spring current.

“I wonder how many will be swept away,” il-Enhorshr mused.

“They do not need to swim, il-Enhorshr,” Goro said. “They will walk along the bottom because they do not need to breathe. Even if they are dislodged and go downstream, they will simply crawl back out of the water at some point.”

Il-Enhorshr harumphed and shook his mane, turning an eye to Goro.

“You’re not very entertaining to be around, you know?”

“Nar Ki’ra is not here for your entertainment, il-Enhorshr.”

“You could at least stop casting doubt on our prospects.”

Goro turned to look up at the Urmah Lord.

“And what will that avail you, il-Enhorshr?” He asked, “Will it make anything more or less than what it is? Urmah Kisher has embarked on a great venture and there is honour in this, but the sort of pride you have adorned yourselves with means nothing in the face of the truth.”

“So what would you have us do?” Il-Enhorshr snarled, “We are not the great clans of the jungle vales, you speak as if we were they!”

“If I sounded that way, I apologise,” Goro said. “And there is nothing your clan can do. Not as it is, and not if you turn your face away from the truth in favour of comforting lies. Take it from an old warrior who has seen much: there have been many like you and many that will be; the same is true for your clan. It is as if our people are…cursed to be what they are and never any more than that.”

The Clanlord narrowed his eyes.

“What are you talking about?”

“Something that has taken my entire life to realise. We believe ourselves to be free, but we are not. It is as if each one of us is caged behind bars that dictate who we are and what we can be – even how we perceive the world and how we think. Those who realise this may be able to fashion their cages as they please, but, ultimately, they remain prisoners. Have you not noticed this, il-Enhorshr?”

“I can’t say I have…”

“I see.”

Maybe he was just getting too old and reflecting overly much on life. Or perhaps a combination of his strength and his travels had allowed him to see and experience much. While the average tribesperson never gave any thought to the lives that they led beyond the simple acts of living those lives, certain revelations have come to him and he was not alone in his thoughts.

There was something wrong with the world. Great power, vast knowledge and keen insight could allow one to see the places where reality frayed, becoming incoherent and unnatural. Perhaps, one day, someone would figure it out…or maybe there were those who already knew what was going on.

If so, what had they come to understand? Why did they not call this aberration to the attention of all? Perhaps it was irrevocable and those who knew simply gave in to despair. Or perhaps unimaginable power was required to remedy the problem and it was pointless for the powerless to know.

He supposed that it was merely a curiosity to him, as his time was nearly at an end. All that was left was to live out what remained of his life. At least it appeared that a boring end was not in store for him.

Below them, the Undead were beginning to emerge on the southern riverbank. They continued shuffling, unaffected by their crossing, disappearing once again into the vegetation. With the cliffs casting their shadows over the defenders’ side of the valley, the Undead would not reappear until they closed with urmah Kisher’s positions.

Roars and shouts rose from the west bringing his attention to the nearest defile, where several groups of Urmah were edging down the slope.

“That defeats the entire purpose of choosing this position…”

“Maybe they just want to get a better look,” il-Enhorshr offered.

“At this rate,” Goro said, “they’re going to tire themselves out before the Undead reach them.”

“Then they can rest,” il-Enhorshr replied. “This will be a long battle. If they manage to kill a handful of Undead early, it will be a boost to morale.”

He wasn’t incorrect. Despite his inexperience in battle, there were things that Lords were adept at that regular warriors like Goro were at best slow to pick up on.

They watched as the tribesmen crept down the slope in fits and starts, seemingly egging one another on. Their fellows above joined in their encouragement while the nar Ki’ra warriors assigned to the position looked on in exasperation. The Urmah stopped at a certain point. A handful of Skeletons came running up at them a moment later.

Four were sent tumbling back down the slope, while another was destroyed on the spot by what was probably a lucky swipe. The last confronted a young female, who slashed at it furiously with her claws.

“You idiot!” One of the nar Ki’ra warriors called down to her, “It’s a damn Skeleton! Bash it!”

An Urmah near the female yanked the Skeleton off of its feet and sent it flying back down into the valley. The victorious tribespeople were hailed with approving cheers from above.

Goro scratched his ear. If the situation wasn’t so dire, it might have been genuinely entertaining. The brief confrontation had another unforeseen benefit: the tribes were unaccustomed to fighting the Undead, but watching small skirmishes like the one that had just occurred would quickly teach them how.

“See?” The pale tuft of il-Enhorshr’s tail swept from side to side, “Nothing to fear.”

If only it was that easy…

Goro looked up at the Bone Vultures again. Just as the tribespeople had gained knowledge from the skirmish, so, too, would the unseen masters of the Undead forces learn how to fight the tribes.