Valkyrie's Shadow
Before the Storm: Act 6, Chapter 11

Chapter 11

“So,” Ilyshn’ish said, “how are we ‘addressing the issue’, precisely?”

“We will speak to those responsible,” Vltava replied.

Ilyshn’ish recalled the vast civilisation hidden in the deepest valleys of the Worldspine. Where would ‘those responsible’ be in all of that?

“Those people have had no qualms driving out the countless tribes in their path,” Ilyshn’ish said. “Rol’en’gorek probably doesn’t even mean any more to them than those tribes – less, considering they’re not even competing for the same space. Outsiders are simply animals to be fenced out through the means they’ve been employing. What are the chances that some random strangers showing up telling them to stop will actually have them do so?”

A sense of foreboding fell over her in the silence that followed. The violent little thing was probably plotting violence.

They emerged from the blizzard and left the canyon they had travelled down that morning. The snow burying the area had grown soft and heavy with the wintry weather now focused on the town further downriver. Ilyshn’ish picked up the sounds of distant activity from the vicinity of the village ahead.

“Is it just me,” Ilyshn’ish said, “or is this weather control magic different from what’s being used back in the Sorcerous Kingdom?”

“It does seem that way,” Pebble said. “Leaving the effect to run its course is the usual method. It feels like a waste to do otherwise.”

“What if it’s a different spell entirely?” Ilyshn’ish asked, “We have no idea what we’re dealing with here.”

“When it comes to tier magic,” Pebble told her, “one can gauge the strength of a caster based on the effect of their spells. Even if it’s being facilitated by a ritual, we should still be facing a Fourth-tier caster with a cadre of Third-tier followers at minimum.” S~ᴇaʀᴄh the ɴøᴠel Fɪre.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

“So we can just bully them into submission?”

“As Vltava said, we should speak with them first.”

“What if they don’t listen?”

“What is, is.”

She was fairly certain that meant bringing their opponents’ civilisation crashing down around their ears. Hopefully, they had some nice treasure for her to take home.

The sound of activity grew louder as they came closer to the village. Once in a while, a strange trumpeting sound punctuated the general hubbub. They stopped in the shadows of an outcropping overlooking the valley, watching as scores of figures toiled below. Nearly all of them were the round, furry beings that she had observed during her flight over the nearby ranges.

“We’ll wait here,” Pebble said. “Go and find out what you can from the people down there.”

“Me?” Ilyshn’ish blinked.

“They’d probably attack the rest of us on sight.”

“Oh, so it’s perfectly fine to send me in on my own in that case,” Ilyshn’ish grumbled. “Fine. How do I look?”

“Appetising,” Pebble said.

“Flammable,” said Vltava.

Ilyshn’ish pulled a mirror out of her bag. It was made for Human hands, however, so all she could do was angle it atop her oversized palm as she examined herself. She had taken on what she thought was an average appearance based on the people working around the village. Her rotund, vaguely humanoid body was covered in a coat of long white hairs and two pairs of forward-pointing ribbed horns framed a black, apelike face.

“Your eyes are the wrong colour,” Pinecone said.

With a sigh, Ilyshn’ish fixed her eye colour. Maybe she could express herself in some other fashion.

“Your bags are out of place, too,” Pebble noted. “These people don’t wear much and what they do is crudely fashioned.”

After several more rounds of criticism, Ilyshn’ish waddled her way down the village. The people in the area didn’t seem to pay her much mind, so she took her time trying to make sense of what they were doing.

Everything was still buried under several metres of snow, but the village itself didn’t seem to be the main focus of their labour. Most were digging up the corpses left behind by the conflict which primarily lay outside of the settlement’s boundaries. Others loaded their excavated cargo onto huge sledges drawn by the same type of woolly behemoth she had observed the previous night. From the looks of it, they were scavenging meat for delivery to the inner ranges.

“You!” A guttural voice snapped at her, “I’m not paying you people to just stand around!”

The source of the voice was a fellow standing on one of the sledges. Unlike the people around him, he wore a mantle of furs with several necklaces of polished stone beads layered atop them. Ilyshn’ish bobbed her head and scurried away from the loading area.

“You.” A voice called out to her from the side, “Come.”

Ilyshn’ish changed direction, waddling over to join one of the furballs in his snowy trench.

“Snow wet,” he said as he gestured to a Haugrarl leg sticking out of the snow. “Heavy. You help.”

She made a show of clearing the snow around the corpse before helping to yank it out. They tossed it over the top of the trench and a pair of labourers came over to drag it away. The furball plopped himself onto the ground.

“You. New.”

“I come from a peak to the northwest,” Ilyshn’ish replied. “This strange weather we’ve been having made me curious enough to come out and see what was going on.”

The furball frowned at her response. Maybe she needed to simplify her speech.

“Far tribes?” The furball slapped his big belly twice in an unknown gesture, “Why you here? You not know? Easterners come.”

“Easterners? How far east?”

“Plateau. Great Mammoth Steppe. You know?”

“I don’t. How far?”

“Very far. Many mountains. Overseer from there.”

“You mean the proud one with the beads?”

“Yeah. Him.”

“He doesn’t look strong enough to rule to me,” Ilyshn’ish said. “If you’re dissatisfied with his leadership, why not get rid of him?”

The furball shook his head.

“Easterners come. Say make things better. Overseer come help.”

“Help how?”

“Make like them. Great nation. Solidarity. All Yeti, unite.”

A spray of wet snow fell upon them.

“Number Sixteen, where’s the next load? We’re not paying you to sleep in there! Sixteen!”

With a drawn-out sigh, the Yeti turned back to dig out the next corpse. Ilyshn’ish joined him in his search, though it was a trivial matter for her. After they tossed the next corpse out of the trench, she bade Number Sixteen to sit and rest while she continued digging. It was a bit nostalgic: when she was younger, it would take several sittings for her to finish eating her kills so she’d end up burying them in the snow somewhere for later.

“That overseer said ‘pay’,” Ilyshn’ish said.

“Fifty carcasses. Get food for day.”

Ilyshn’ish’s claws stopped as she calculated the value of Yeti labour.

“How long does that take?”

“One day,” Number Sixteen replied. “One day work. One day food. Fair.”

Even a common warehouse worker in the Baharuth Empire earned more than that. Were these people tricked into toiling for so little? Regardless, it sounded like the Baharuth Empire had some catching up to do.

“Just to be certain,” Ilyshn’ish said, “was this area was once the territory of your tribe?”

“Close. Valley. Two-day walk.”

“I see. So this ‘Solidarity’ came along and took the territory that your tribe depended on for their survival. Then, they offered you this ‘work’ in exchange.”

Number Sixteen shook his head.

“No…yes? No. Easterners help. Snows come. Rivals gone. Make better take time, they say. In many tomorrows, become better.”

Ilyshn’ish pulled another corpse out of the snow and tossed it out of the trench.

“How long have the easterners been here?” She asked.

“Many seasons,” Number Sixteen answered. “First, some come. Talk only. Learn. Then, more come. Bring great snows. Kill enemies. After, other Yeti come. Like overseer. From company.”

“What’s a ‘company’?”

The Yeti shrugged.

“Like tribe? Maybe.”

Since it didn’t seem like she would get much useful information about the ‘easterners’ that had come and taken over the western extremes of the Worldspine, Ilyshn’ish decided to inquire about the local Yeti society of the past. Unfortunately, she couldn’t say there was much that was interesting about them.

Simply put, they were a society of mostly solitary predators who were loosely organised into tribes. Each tribe was little more than a breeding population dominated by its strongest members. Individual Yeti got together once every few years to mate and stuck to their own hunting ranges the rest of the time.

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It was a telltale characteristic of powerful predatory species in cold, highly competitive climates. The real question was how the ‘easterners’ made the jump from that natural state to what she had seen further along the Worldspine.

“Sorry to burden you with so many questions,” Ilyshn’ish said. “It’s just all so new to me.”

“You smell nice,” Number Sixteen gave her a toothy grin. “Me happy.”

Ilyshn’ish scurried out of the trench when the Yeti pointed his ‘happiness’ at her. Why did mortals have to be like that?

She had excavated enough corpses to earn both herself and Number Sixteen a day’s worth of rations. Curious about what she would receive, Ilyshn’ish joined the Yeti labourers queued up at one of the massive sledges piled high with Haugrarl remains. The other Yeti in the area sent many glances her way, but she found that no one else was as talkative as Number Sixteen…at least until she reached the head of the line.

“You! You’re the one from before…”

The overseer hopped off of his sledge to land in front of her. Ilyshn’ish leaned back slightly as he closely scrutinised her.

“Yes…yes! You will make for an excellent tribute!”

“Me?”

“Indeed,” the overseer’s nostrils flared as he took in a deep whiff of her coat. “An exotic young female such as yourself would be the envy of the Crag Council. We must deliver you to the capital post haste!”

“Me just here for food…”

“Nonsense,” the overseer snorted. “A tribute of your quality can have all the food you could desire! You two, help her into the cabin.”

Two large, heavyset Yeti came to escort her onto the vehicle. It seemed that the overseer wouldn’t take no for an answer. Rather than protest the one-sided treatment, however, Ilyshn’ish was content to watch them prepare her seat as she pondered what sort of information she might be able to gain. Pelts were piled high upon a broad pine bench offering a view over the Mammoth’s shoulder. Her escorts urged her to take a seat while they delivered choice cuts of meat on a polished granite platter.

The sledge itself was only superficially similar to those employed by the Azerlisian Mountain Dwarves. Instead of steel, the Yeti vehicle was fashioned out of some kind of wood and had a closed cabin that shielded its passengers from the elements. The same type of ice that she saw used in the city far to the east formed a dome over the spacious interior, offering a clear view of their surroundings in all directions.

Ilyshn’ish settled onto her seat to sample the fare set out before her. The cabin rocked slightly as the overseer came up to join her.

“Ah, I see you’ve made yourself comfortable,” he said. “Good. It will be a long trip to Rygal.”

“Rygal? What’s that?”

“It is the name of our great capital,” the overseer told her. “It is not the only place of note, however. Along the way, you will see many wondrous places that you’ll never think to look back on the life you had here.”

“Life here not bad…”

The overseer let out a hearty chuckle, slapping his belly several times. She still wasn’t quite sure what the gesture meant.

“You will see, dear miss,” he said with a sweep of his hand. “A whole new world awaits you; a shining civilisation of shimmering spires. I wager that you will need no convincing about where you’d rather be once you partake of its offerings.”

Ilyshn’ish had to admit that she was tempted to see what the ‘offerings’ were. Most of what she had seen from her reconnaissance flight consisted of food and basic materials being transported from one place to another. The shining city she had encountered was protected from her prying, so she was certain that there was something nice for her inside.

The cabin shuddered slightly as the carriage got underway. Ilyshn’ish shifted uncomfortably at the unfamiliar sensation.

“Worry not,” the overseer said. “Our sledges are the finest in the world. Not only is it covered by this dome of enchanted ice, but the entire vehicle is a marvel of magical artifice! Only the most prosperous Merchants in the realm can afford them.”

“Me not understand,” Ilyshn’ish said, “but sound good. How many you have?”

“Our company owns a vast fleet of them. Hundreds of sledges – many of them finer than this. We’ve even transported members of the Crag Council on many occasions. Our first stop will be a small city about two weeks from here where such a carriage will deliver you to the core provinces.”

Ilyshn’ish turned her gaze to the roadside. Based on the road network she had seen and the plodding pace of their transportation, two weeks’ travel would have them arrive at the city she had flown over before returning to Rol’en’gorek.

And that’s what they consider a small city?

“How far is the, um, Rygal?”

“Hmm…that would depend on the main caravan’s route,” the overseer said. “If I were to guess, a bit over a year. Ah, but set your fears aside: you will not want for anything during the journey and your treatment in the capital will be even more exquisite!”

Ilyshn’ish considered her options. She was pretty sure she could escape at any point since the guards assigned to the sledge weren’t much better than the warriors of Rol’en’gorek in terms of raw strength. Of course, what she had seen of their country suggested that they were far more advanced than Rol’en’gorek, but there was only so much that equipment and techniques could do without the strength to back it up. Unless some sort of Yeti hero appeared, it was probably safe for her to do whatever she pleased.

Since Yeti appeared to be limited to regular Darkvision, Ilyshn’ish kept any questions about their surroundings to herself until dawn. Unfortunately, the overseer seemed so completely intent on impressing her with all manner of bombastic claims that she wondered whether even a fraction of it could be believed.

Is it even prudent to boast so grandly?

Very little of what she had seen so far suggested that they were capable of defending themselves against anything truly powerful. Whispering sweet nothings into the ears of random Dragons would surely invite an unwelcome investigation of their transferable assets.

“You say your country rich,” Ilyshn’ish said as she watched the scenery go by outside of the cabin, “but these warbands, weak. Tribes come attack.”

“Warbands…” The overseer chuckled in amusement, “The ‘warbands’ that you see here are merely security guards for the industrial operations opening up on the frontier. Our country does not use warbands like the ancestors of old: we have a true, professional army that safeguards the realm. This, too, is something you will see on your journey.”

Ilyshn’ish stared blankly at the overseer as he provided yet another prideful answer to her seeming ignorance. Going by her discussion with Number Sixteen, the local Yeti were far less sophisticated than even the Beastmen of Rol’en’gorek and the overseer certainly didn’t hold back about the superiority of his vaunted ‘Solidarity’. He offered her a toothy smile at what he probably thought was her awestruck reaction to his words.

“This ‘army’.” Ilyshn’ish asked, “They must fight many raids. Get many wounds. How heal?”

“Through our fine clergy, of course,” the overseer answered.

“C-Clergy?”

“Hmm…I suppose you’d refer to them as ‘mystics’ or maybe ‘priests’.”

“Me see,” Ilyshn’ish said.

The overseer gave her a look.

“…are you feeling unwell?”

“Weather strange,” Ilyshn’ish replied. “Cursed.”

Barking laughter from the overseer filled the cabin.

“Rest assured, no curse has fallen upon the land. The source of the unusual weather is none other than a group of our finest clergy. They’ve been hard at work expanding the reach of the Worldspine.”

“Me not understand.”

The overseer’s face twitched and he fell silent for several moments. After scanning the road ahead, he descended to open the cabin door and spoke with the driver.

“Stop at the next camp,” the overseer pointed to a cluster of buildings in the shadow of a sheer cliff. “We’ll be there for at least a few hours, so check over the sledge before going for lunch. Let the rest of the staff know.”

Rather than return to sit beside her, the overseer went to rummage through several cabinets, pulling out several leather bags and searching through them.

“What you do?” Ilyshn’ish asked.

“I have to get you familiarised with some things,” he said. “As exotic as you may be, your ignorance of our country and its customs will tarnish the perception of our patrons. This is no fault of yours, of course. You are simply the product of your circumstances and I’m confident you’ll learn quickly.”

What is he basing that assessment on?

Regardless of race, it seemed that Merchants tended to resort to the same bag of tricks. They constantly pushed to get what they wanted, employing a mix of good and bad impressions, flattery, and vague pseudo-promises to erode their target’s ability to resist them. The overseer already treated it as a given that she was some form of merchandise meant to be shipped to the heart of his civilisation and that it was by her own will.

After cloaking Ilyshn’ish in a heavy mantle of layered furs, the overseer led her into the camp. The place was reminiscent of the work camps that Humans set up along their frontiers, save for the fact that every structure was constructed from ice and packed snow. With the temperatures in the mountains as they were, she suspected that the Yeti had a far easier time expanding than most with their near-infinite supply of convenient building material.

As they walked through rows of utilitarian dwellings on their way to a core of much larger structures, Ilyshn’ish took an inventory of the camp’s contents. Every cube-like ice hut had space for one or two Yeti, though the second spot seemed exclusively reserved for their young. Personal belongings were scarce, though those that did exist were quite distinct. Ilyshn’ish gestured at a stone axe hanging from the belt of a passing worker.

“What is that?” She asked.

“That…?” The overseer frowned as he turned to see what she was referring to, “Ah, those are axes. Tools. Surely you’ve seen something like them before?”

“Invaders come with fangs of wood and bone and stone,” Ilyshn’ish replied. “But not same.”

“Indeed,” the overseer nodded, “they are not the crude implements that you have seen brandished by savages in the wilds. Of course, they may be used as weaponry, but they are mostly employed as vocational implements. That fellow just now was one of the masons who built the structures you see around us. Our people have long left behind the solitary lives of our ancestors, coming together to build the great civilisation that dominates the great ranges.”

Ilyshn’ish made a show of looking about in wonderment while they made their way to a gigantic ice dome in the centre of the camp. Its translucent walls shimmered with the same cold light that she had seen in the city deeper in the Worldspine, painting the interior and its occupants in shades of pale blue.

“This is the local temple,” the overseer told her in a low voice. “The workers and locals come to have their spiritual and medical needs met here. Be sure to treat the staff with respect.”

“Staff?”

“Those who work here, like him.”

A well-groomed Yeti adorned in an indecipherable array of accessories waddled up to them. The beads, polished stones, and precious gems dangling from his horns and neck clattered lightly as he tilted his rotund body in what probably counted as a Yeti bow.

“Yonten,” he said in modulated tones. “You’re back.”

“I have the great spirits to thank for that, Brother Jhola,” the overseer replied as he touched his lower lip. “How have things been since we last spoke?”

“Quiet, as usual. Who is this lovely young lady?”

Yonten opened his mouth and closed it again. Ilyshn’ish had purposely avoided naming herself, as she wasn’t sure how Yeti names worked. She had planned on hanging around here and there to listen in on discussions between Yeti, but she had been diverted by the prospect of better information about the Yeti invaders from the overseer.

“Me Winter Moon,” Ilyshn’ish gestured at herself.

The overseer treated her as a primitive, so maybe it would work out.

“Winter Moon…” the ornately adorned Yeti mulled over the words. “How quaint. I’ve heard that the people here possess no formal language, never mind a writing system. I guess that turned out to be true.”

Ilyshn’ish breathed an internal sigh of relief. She was hoping things would play out like that. The mysterious way in which words were translated between people had the effect of blocking linguistic development. This resulted in a pattern of speech that Humans tended to associate with Goblins, but the fact of the matter was that it could happen with any race born without innate linguistic knowledge. People could communicate with one another without ever learning how to speak a language, so it was often the case that primitive and isolated societies – or those that lost their language somehow – spoke in a direct and literal way and never progressed beyond that.

With how she had to travel far and wide as an agent of the Ministry of Transportation, Ilyshn’ish made it a point to study the translation phenomenon and its effects. She was still far from completely understanding how it worked, but she already had the sneaking suspicion that it was the result of someone using too much power with too little thought.

“She’s more clever than most,” Yonten said. “I figured it wouldn’t hurt to educate her on our customs before delivering her to the capital.”

“I see. That seems prudent. We don’t have the appropriate facilities for that here, but I can recommend you to a temple in Khala.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

The overseer reached up with both hands to remove one of his necklaces. He undid its leather thong and counted out ten polished pieces of blue jade, which he dropped into a stone bowl sitting on a pillar of ice.

“Nice necklace broken!” Ilyshn’ish cried in distraught tones.

Yoten and the other Yeti exchanged a look.

“It isn’t a necklace,” Yoten said as he held up the strand of polished stones. “It’s just a way to hold coins. Coins are, um…how can I explain that? They’re a form of treasure used for trade.”

“Trade?”

The two Yeti looked helplessly at one another. Ilyshn’ish pondered the existence of the jade coins. Did it mean that the Merchant Guild didn’t exist in their civilisation?

No, Human countries mint coins of their own as well. Then again, the way that these Yeti expand pretty much isolates them from the outside world…

It was an intriguing scenario. According to multiple sources, the Merchant Guild was responsible for introducing – and reintroducing – commerce worldwide. If the Yeti had built their own economic systems from the ground up, they potentially possessed a depth that was lacking in most of the places she had visited so far. In the Human realms, nearly everything felt like a copy of a copy of a copy that people gave little thought to.

“Let’s leave the complicated subjects aside for now,” Brother Jhola said in a welcoming tone as he gestured to the temple’s interior. “First, we should cover the basics.”

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