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The Tiger and the Dragon: Act 3, Chapter 1
🕑 Added 2022-07-25 18:59:46 +0000 UTC
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9th Day, Upper Wind Month, 1 CE, 2000 Hours
Twilight settled over the windswept grassland, casting an ominous hue over Goro nar Ki’ra’s surroundings. The lighting seemed to play with the edges of his Darkvision; his eyes narrowed as he peered out from his post.
This is an evil place.
His fur rose and he flicked his ear in irritation. Somewhere beyond the stand of aspen where he lurked lay a place that the Humans called the ‘Katze Plains’: a cursed wasteland where the Undead rose without end. The other scouts keeping watch said it was about twenty kilometres from where he was, but even with it so far away there were no animals to hunt – only endless seas of tall grass and stands of aspen dotting the landscape.
This, more than any verbal account, convinced him of the Humans’ claim: that the instincts of living things caused them to avoid the border meant that a place where evil dwelled was surely close.
At least we can use the Humans…
Unlike Beastmen, Humans had a high tolerance for continual danger. Several weak prey species were notable for this. The Sages theorised that they were always in danger so had thus become accustomed to it. They did not react to threats unless they were so close to them that it was often too late. This made them ideal for agriculture in dangerous areas once the proper measures were enacted.
Felid Beastmen like Goro, however, were highly sensitive to danger and competition. This sense was vague, but it could extend for dozens of kilometres or more. If they were aware of threats, they became uneasy and would act to evade the source, or find and eliminate them.
A cursed wasteland was not so easy to remove, however, so Beastmen could never live close to it. They would simply stock the area with Humans, keep them from leaving and harvest them every few years. He didn’t envy the tribes that ended up with these fringe territories to manage.
The wind carried with it the scent of a tribesman well before he appeared. The grass parted, revealing a shorter male with the stripes of nar Ki’ra.
“Trouble,” he reported.
“Good trouble,” Goro asked, “or bad trouble?”
Hhrolhr, the newcomer, lashed his tail across the grass.
“The bad kind. Evil rises in the northwest.”
“Show me.”
They loped off over the plain, back in the direction from which Hhrolhr came. Goro padded through the fields on silent steps, senses alert for the telltale signs of nearby threats. Undead appearing wasn’t necessarily bad. A few here and there could do wonders to relieve the instinctual tension that built up from being in such a place.
“What did you see?” Goro asked.
“A group of Zombies and Skeletons,” Hhrolhr answered. “Making their way directly south.”
“…are you sure about that?”
Zombies and Skeletons were mindless. They only moved purposefully when reacting to something.
“Yes,” Hhrolhr replied. “I watched them for a good hour. They’re moving straight towards some unknown thing.”
“Maybe some idiot went in and pulled them out,” Goro offered.
“I checked for tracks ahead of them,” Hhrolhr’s left ear twitched. “There was nothing. No scent, either.”
“Those guys down south better not be doing anything stupid…”
It was the next most likely possibility. The problem with countries coming into conflict with one another was that it could result in the accumulation of the miasmatic force known as negative energy. Butchering the defeated had to be managed carefully, else things could spiral out of control. To combat this, Priests usually presided over slaughterhouses, ensuring that practices were compliant with religious regulations, purifying food and sanctifying facilities.
In times like theirs, however, things did not always happen so neatly. Even the smallest Human settlement had a hundred individuals and one kill led to another.
“You think one of the Lords lost control?” Hhrolhr asked.
“I can’t think of anything else,” Goro answered. “Hopefully, it’s only happening in one place.”
“That would mean we have more Undead coming, yeah?”
“Maybe. We’ll see. We’re being paid to guard the border, but I guess it’s not just about keeping the Humans in.”
After travelling five kilometres, Hhrolhr slowed down. They rose to their full height, looking over the sea of grass.
“Is that them?”
“It’s the same group,” Hhrolhr wrinkled his nose. “I don’t see any others.”
They remained still and watched the hunched figures approach. Goro narrowed his eyes as five Skeletons and seven Zombies drew close.
“If only Zombie flesh was edible,” he muttered.
Hhrolhr laughed.
“If that were true, Undead wastelands would be a priceless resource!”
“True enough. Time to let loose.”
Goro advanced, unsheathing his claws with a low growl. The Undead turned towards him, and he lunged.
Three Skeletons shattered from a single swipe of his paws. Hhrolhr bowled through another pair and ripped one of the Zombies apart. The others reached out with their cracked claws and he leapt backwards with a snarl.
This cub’s getting into it too much. Well, I did say to let loose.
A minute later, the remains of the Undead were disintegrating on the ground.
“Wooo, that felt good,” Hhrolhr took a deep breath. “If only they smelled right.”
Goro nodded in agreement, taking a calming breath of his own. The scent of Undead on the wind was unwelcome, but…
“Wait a minute,” he said. “There are more of them.”
Hhrolhr's nostrils flared as he tested the wind.
“That wasn’t there before. Uh…it’s not our fault, right?”
“How can that be?” Goro said, “They’re too far away to react to us. The tribes managing the Human lands must have screwed up.”
With a jerk of his head, Goro jogged off, following the scent on the wind. A kilometre further northwest, they stopped.
One, three, eight, sixteen…
“I think you're right,” Hhrolhr said. “Someone must have messed up. Should we clear them out?”
“Hmm…”
If the Undead conveniently took turns to fight, they could handle thousands of them without issue. Being swarmed was another matter entirely. With their overpowering stench flooding the air, he couldn’t tell how many more there were beyond the group nearby. He eyed the advancing Zombies and Skeletons, a low rumble rising from his chest.
“Something isn’t right,” he said.
“They’re Undead,” Hhrolhr’s striped tail waved off-handedly. “They’re as wrong as wrong can be.”
“That’s not it,” Goro told him. “First of all, why are they mixed up like that?”
“What do you mean?”
“They’re mindless. If something’s drawing them, why would they all move at the same speed? The Skeletons should be far ahead of the Zombies. I see some other things in there that should be faster, as well.”
“So…Elder Lich?”
Goro peered to the northwest, past the advancing mob. Somewhere in the distant mist, a powerful force was coordinating the Undead.
“Could be,” Goro said. “There are a few things that could do it. I don’t know how big this ‘Katze Plains’ that the Humans speak of is, but I think we would know if something truly powerful lurked there.”
That was the problem with Human lands. Trade didn’t flow freely and Beastman spies didn’t exactly blend in. Everything beyond the so-called Draconic Kingdom was an unknown frontier.
The Undead, however, were another matter entirely. They were abominations that hated the living, so the presence of a powerful Undead being would be felt by its neighbours no matter who they were. No one would purposely obscure their existence. Everyone set aside their differences when it came to such threats, as they were enemies of all life. If they weren’t dealt with, they would only grow stronger over time with their limitless lifespans.
“We should report back, yeah?”
“Yeah. They only have themselves to blame. Some of their people messed up and now the Undead have come calling.”
Goro cast one last look at the mist creeping over the land, shrouding the Undead in a treacherous cloak. Two hours later, he and Hhrolhr arrived at a forested area that the Humans once used to grow firewood. Shelters were raised between the trees, but the settlement lacked the appeal of a proper forest or jungle.
In the deepest part was a clearing where an Urmah Lord feasted on a screaming Human.
“Goro!” He called out jovially, his jowls dripping with blood, “You have impeccable timing. Come, join us for our meal – a fresh shipment has just arrived. We have males and females of all ages for you to enjoy.”
Goro’s ears pricked at the scene before him. The way he was eating the Human was religiously prohibited save for special occasions and exceptional circumstances. It was a decadent indulgence that led to the accumulation of negative energy.
“Enurshur,” Goro genuflected before the Urmah Lord. “Word arrives from the northwest. I believe it wise to call a council of the clans.”
The Urmah Lord’s claws slammed onto the stone table before him, crushing the Human’s skull and cutting short its screeching. All around them, the chattering tribespeople stopped to stare.
“Do not presume to dictate to me, nar Ki’ra!” He roared, “Deliver your report and I will decide whether the clans should be called!”
Goro’s whiskers flattened over his cheeks and he lowered his head in apology.
“An army comes from the northwest, Enurshur.”
“The northwest…? But that means…”
Goro looked up and nodded. Enurshur settled back on his haunches.
“How many?” The Urmah Lord asked.
“Several hundred by the time we decided to report back,” Goro answered. “They are coordinated, so a Lord of the Undead should be present.”
“A Lord of the Undead…as in an Elder Lich?”
“It would be consistent with the patterns of Undead that appear in the area,” Goro replied. “However, we did not spot it while we were out there so I believe that conclusions should not be made so readily.”
Enurshur urmah Maur rose to his feet, wiping his claws with a bloodstained cloth.
“The clans will be called,” he declared. “Send runners to the tribes. We leave for…erm, what did they call it?”
“‘Blighthold’, Enurshur,” one of the tribal elders said.
“We need to figure out proper names for this place,” the Urmah Lord muttered.
With that, they left the place of urmah Maur with the Lord and his entourage leading the way. Goro and Hhrolhr followed from far behind.
“These urmah Maur do not know proper respect,” Hhrolhr grumbled.
“Calm yourself,” Goro said. “We are hired help. His conduct is not an issue between clans.”
“He’s lucky that it’s not,” Hhrlolhr’s voice grew dark. “I would have fed him to his livestock.”
Goro sighed. All Lords had their pride, but the expansion into the Human Kingdom had unsurprisingly inflated it to undeserved levels amongst those occupying the new lands.
Usually, competition for territory involved conflict between Beastman tribes or occasionally entire clans. The lands here were taken from Humans, whose warrior caste could produce strong individuals, but were by and large weak. Despite this, the prestige that came with winning lands was still claimed. With it came pride, arrogance and the idea that the tribes in question were more than they were.
Hhrolhr was young and proud, and the young often did not understand where to invest their time and energy. A challenge or a slight was easily perceived in many things and they just couldn’t leave them be. Their country was strong and nar Ki’ra held a place of high honour, which only helped to make things more volatile.
Similarly, the tribes moving into the Draconic Kingdom were young and did not have venerable foundations. Thus, they felt the need to cling to what little they had and fought tooth and claw over matters of political power and social standing.
“Maybe we should journey deeper into the continent when our work is done here,” Goro said.
“Really?” Hhrolhr looked over at him with wide eyes.
“I would like to visit the great empires once more before I am too old to travel,” Goro’s gaze went to the distant southeast. “It will be good for you to see, too – just like I did when I was your age.”
The more he thought about it, the better an idea it seemed. It was just what the boy needed. He was bright and talented and seeing what the world was truly like would do him good. In the great Beastman Confederation, he would understand how far he and his country truly had to go to be anything of real consequence. Then he would stop thinking that every minor thing demanded his full attention and focus on what mattered.
Enurshur’s entourage arrived at Blighthold just before dawn. Hhrolhr’s jaws stretched into a wide yawn.
“We should have run ahead,” he yawned again. “By the time they arrived, we would have had five hours of sleep.”
“I doubt Enurshur would have permitted that,” Goro replied. “Our warning is just another scrap of honour for him to collect. Besides, if the clans of the north are to gather, we can still have a good, long nap.”
They came to the camp of urmah Kisher, the clan that presided over the territories surrounding Blighthold. In the distance, the Human city lay in darkness, the flags over its battlements hanging limply under the light of the waxing moon.
“It doesn’t look like the problem came from here,” Goro said.
“Maybe they’re doing something in the villages?” Hhrolhr suggested.
“Whatever it is, we should find out soon enough.”
Or not. Just as honour was greedily claimed, shameful deeds were often shrouded.
Enurshur strode into the encampment, heading straight to the largest collection of tents. There, under an ancient Coast Cypress with a crown towering a hundred metres over the surroundings, awaited il-Enhorshr urmah Kisher, Lord of the urmah Kisher. He rose to his feet, a towering specimen of the Lionfolk standing three metres tall.
“This had better be good, Enurshur,” his arms crossed over his broad chest.
“il-Enhorshr,” Enurshur dipped his head, “an Undead army is advancing from the northwest.”
“Undead?” il-Enhorshr snarled, “What have you done, Enurshur?”
“I have done nothing!” Enurshur’s ear twitched, “Perhaps it was some other tribe, but not urmah Maur. Hundreds of Undead come as we speak.”
A low murmur rose from il-Enhorshr’s court. Some seemed dismissive, while others were grim. The Clanlord glanced at Goro.
“Who saw these ‘hundreds of Undead’?” He asked, “What manner of Undead come?”
“Some of the ones we hired from nar Ki’ra,” Enurshur answered. “They say that a Lord of the Undead commands them.”
“Did you see this ‘Lord of the Undead’?”
Enurshur turned his head to look at Goro. Goro stepped forward and went to a knee before il-Enhorshr.
“I did not see it, il-Enhorshr,” he said. “It was the behaviour of the Undead coming out of the wasteland that indicated its existence. The mindless Undead do not display the coordination that we observed without being controlled.”
“What say you to this, Korhalak?” il-Enhorshr looked to his right.
“It is consistent with what I know,” an elderly mystic said. “But…”
“…but?”
“The numbers are too great,” Korhalak’s claws scratched over the ground. “For there to be so many, I dare not speak of what might come…”
Goro’s muzzle shifted as he licked his lips in distaste. Nothing changed regardless of what she said, so it was better to know. When turned to for their knowledge, mystics tended to deliver it with dramatic flair to reinforce their influence.
“If you mean a Night Lich,” Goro said, “we have heard no rumours of the sort from the locals. An Undead being of that calibre would be well-known in the area unless it has gone to great measures to conceal its existence.”
“A Night Lich is too much,” il-Enhorshr’s ears twitched. “It must be something else.”
Or maybe this entire clan is filled with idiots…
Why would deciding that something was ‘too much’ make it any less? Goro’s tail waved idly behind him as he offered another possibility.
“If these wastelands have existed for longer than living memory and the locals do not disturb it, a cabal of Elder Liches may dwell within.”
The Urmah Lord visibly relaxed upon hearing the alternative interpretation. Goro resisted the urge to laugh at his change in attitude. An Elder Lich might be a step away from becoming a Night Lich and the first indication that it was that powerful would be a charred and blasted circle where two dozen tribespeople once stood.
“With how many Undead you discovered,” il-Enhorshr asked, “how many Elder Liches would that be?”
“Two, from what we saw,” Goro replied.
“That doesn’t sound unreasonable,” il-Enhorshr brightened at the estimate. “If the tribes of urmah Kisher all contribute, we can sweep away these Elder Liches. This may be a good thing in the end – many have expressed concerns about the ‘Katze Plains’ that the Humans speak of. Once we deal with the Undead, all will be assured in our ability to hold these lands.”
Goro weighed the viability of advising caution. While mystics were respected amongst their own people, the mystics of other races were seen as ineffective compared to warriors. Mystics that used summoned beings were seen as cowards. il-Enhorshr’s threat assessment might have changed if they had to fight the Archangel Flames that the Draconic Kingdom occasionally employed, but they had not been seen anywhere over the course of their invasion.
As such, il-Enhorshr would take the field against the Undead thinking that they were unworthy foes. Goro’s caution would probably invite scorn or even anger. It was at times like this that he wished he was a Bard who could sway the sentiments of others with their speechcraft.
“Should we not inform the other clans?” Goro asked.
“Why would we do that?” il-Enhorshr scoffed, “We have the matter well in hand.”
“The idea has merit,” Enurshur said. “Rather than rumours of our exploits slowly spreading, we should inform the others of this Undead army. The others will worry as they await the conclusion and that will make our victory all the more impressive. All will know the strength of urmah Kisher!”
That wasn’t what Goro had in mind, but would that work? The other clans probably wouldn’t come, but they at least would have some warning if things took a dire turn.
“Report!” A voice sounded from behind him, “Report from urmah Ghorrahl!”
“So noisy,” il-Enhorshr scowled. “What is it? Spit it out!”
“Undead have been spotted in the northwest!”
“We already know that!” The Urmah Lord snapped, “Send runners to the tribes! This will be over before the day is done.”
Another runner appeared, breath heaving as he staggered into the court.
“R-report!”
“Shut up!”
The runner cringed and drew back, slinking away into the night with a limp tail.
“Shouldn’t they at least hear what she has to say?” Hhrolhr muttered.
“He is fixated on his prey,” Goro looked around the court. “I think they all are. Everyone that matters, at least. Let’s go find that runner.”
They left il-Enhorshr’s court, which was building up to frenzied levels of fervour. If felid Beastmen had a weakness, it was their intense, single-minded focus. Those of certain castes trained to master their primal nature, but the urmah Kisher was a clan whose affairs did not require it. Even so, claiming that they were falling prey to their base instincts was considered a grievous insult.
Far from the urmah Kisher camp, they found the female runner catching her breath near the edge of the fallow fields. She started at their appearance, eyeing Goro and Hhrolhr nervously.
“What…what do you want?”
“You came to deliver a report,” Goro said. “What tribe are you from?”
“Urmah Vhagg,” the runner replied. “The nar Ki’ra scouts reported it to my lord and he sent me to warn il-Enhorshr.”
Unlike urmah Ghorrahl, urmah Vhagg was positioned far enough away from where Hhrolhr had spotted the Undead that it was probably a different group.
“What did they see?” Goro asked.
“Skeletons and Zombies, mostly. They said that there were some slightly stronger ones mixed in.”
“How many in total?”
“Several hundred,” the female’s ear twitched.
“Were they all moving together?”
“Why, yes,” the female said. “The nar Ki’ra scout noted that as well. She said that something was probably controlling them.”
“I see,” Goro’s voice was grim. “I will bring this to il-Enhorshr’s attention. Thank you.”
They ran back the way they came, joining the stream of Urmah headed northwest. il-Enhorshr had wasted no time rousing his clan to action. The Clanlord was near the head of the advance, his pale mane streaming in the night wind.
“il-Enhorshr!” Goro called out, “I would speak to you!”
The Urmah Lord cast an annoyed look in their direction. He did not slow his pace.
“The runner you sent away,” Goro pressed him. “She was from urmah Vhagg.”
“What of it?”
“She, too, was sent to inform us of the Undead, but I believe that it may be a different group of them.”
il-Enhorshr sneered at his words.
“Do you somehow believe that Elder Liches spring forth in multitudes as Humans do? That hundreds of them lurk on the other side of the mist?”
“Well, no,” Goro admitted, “but even four Elder Liches is a considerable threat. Enough to destroy a town and its surroundings. Or a small Human city.”
“Urmah Kisher is not a ‘town’,” il-Enhorshr scoffed. “Four Elder Liches cannot stand up to ten thousand proud Lionfolk!”
If they were the average Elder Lich, he would be absolutely correct. While their mana reserves were vast, they were still limited. Physically speaking, they were not much. Their Fireballs and Lightning Bolts could be dodged or simply withstood. They certainly could not sustain a battle against so many Lionfolk, even if those Lionfolk were not warriors. Not a single battle, at least.
“Would it not be prudent to lay in wait and see what the time brings?” Goro said, “Better to pounce after we know so that we may strike decisively.”
“Your caution is as expected for one of nar Ki’ra,” il-Enhorshr said. “But it is unnecessary here. Be it four Elder Liches or twelve, the result will be our victory. This is especially the case since nar Ki’ra fights with us.”
“Even so,” Goro replied, “things may not be as they seem. Why would they be drawn south in the first place? Urmah Kisher would not mismanage their territories…”
“About that…”
He stared at the Urmah Lord. il-Enhorshr waved a hand.
“Not us,” il-Enhorshr said. “The Human capital. One of the clans there took a gate and entered the city. The others would not stand by and be upstaged.”
“When did this happen?”
“Starting yesterday morning,” the Urmah Lord said. “A hawk from the south delivered the news to us.”
Goro let out a long sigh. The last that he heard, the Draconic Kingdom’s capital had nearly four hundred thousand Humans from the surrounding countryside cowering within its walls. A slaughter of that scale would surely attract the Undead.
At least someone had the presence of mind to send a warning. Given the extent of the Undead advance, the timing seemed to line up.
“In that case, we have every reason to exercise caution. We do not know how large the Katze Plains are or anything of its history. It may very well be like the Dreadlands of the south.”
“If it was anything like that,” il-Enhorshr said, “these Humans would not be able to exist so near.”
“They once had forces capable of turning the warrior clans,” Goro noted. “We have not seen them for over a year. It could be that they were lost to the Undead.”
“We shall see. If the forces of the Undead are overwhelming, we can simply withdraw. Zombies are not going to outrun us.”
il-Enhorshr turned his attention forward. Goro fell away.
“What do we do?” Hhrolhr asked.
“Let’s stop and rest for now,” Goro answered. “We can rejoin them later. If the other tribes sent runners, they should be trying to catch up to il-Enhorshr.”
Not fifteen minutes passed before the first of the expected runners came.
“Which tribe?” Goro offered his water flask.
“Urmah Asla,” the runner panted.
Goro considered the new information as the runner took noisy gulps of water. They were even further east from urmah Vhagg, so the likelihood of another group of Undead was nearly certain.
“What did they send you to report?”
“Undead. Hundreds. The nar Ki’ra scout suggested that there was an Undead Lord. Did…did urmah Kisher go to fight them?”
“They’re headed to intercept the Undead spotted near urmah Maur. That’s nearly ten kilometres from urmah Asla, so it must be a different group.”
“But why would so many Undead appear at once?”
“The apparent explanation is that someone was having too much fun in the Human capital.”
The runner’s mouth fell open, aghast.
“What are they thinking?!”
“I don’t think ‘thinking’ was part of the process,” Goro replied sardonically.
Releasing a disgusted sound, the runner flopped the ground and looked up at the starry sky. Goro quietly waited to see if any other runners appeared. By early morning, three more came by, all reporting roughly the same thing. This brought Goro’s estimate to somewhere around one to two thousand Undead and anywhere from ten to twenty Elder Liches, depending on their strength. He could only hope that it was twenty weak Undead casters and not ten extraordinarily powerful ones.
With the news that the Draconic Kingdom’s capital was being taken, one more possibility presented itself – one that he kept to himself. This was that the Undead had been drawn on purpose to destroy the clans in the northwest. With the invasion of the Draconic Kingdom now looking more like a permanent occupation, ambitious Clanlords would look for opportunities to eliminate rivals for territory.
The more territory a clan had, the more resources and tribes they could support. It was the most direct and effective way of gaining power in their country. Once the Undead and the tribes of the north had spent each other’s strength, the others would move to eliminate them both.
Goro shook his head. That was taking things too far. The southern clans wouldn’t do such a thing and then send a warning. Unless…
Unless it was from nar Torokgha. Damn it all, why did he have to die? Those damn Humans!
If Kal’il-Endratha nar Torokgha hadn’t been slain, everything wouldn’t have been thrown into chaos. To their credit, his remaining subordinates had done well to track down and eliminate his assassins before they could capitalise on the loss, but the damage had been done. Without the great Warmaster’s charisma and power holding everything together, the chain of command had collapsed.
The systematic and orderly takeover of the Draconic Kingdom fell apart as the clans and their tribes scattered to conduct their own conquests where they saw fit. Everyone was grabbing as much as they could while the grabbing was good.
Goro’s sense of foreboding grew as his thoughts wandered.
“Hhrolhr.”
“Yes, grandfather?”
“Go to the nar Torokgha. They need to know about this.”
“Do you know where they are?”
“They’re probably the ones who sent word from the Human capital, but they’ve also probably withdrawn so they wouldn’t get sucked into the slaughter. Try somewhere east of there. If you cannot find them, head back home and let your father know what’s going on here.”
“And what is going on here, exactly?”
Goro grinned. He was a good boy. Many young males would have insisted on staying to fight, but he was bright and could look beyond himself if he wanted to. Visiting the Beastman Confederation would truly be to his benefit.
“I cannot give you anything concise. All I can share are the feelings of an old warrior who has seen generations of warfare. Something big is happening. Something dangerous. More dangerous than anything I have ever felt.”
“Does it have something to do with the cursed wasteland?”
“Yes, and no. It is everything at once. Perhaps it started as far back as this conquest did. The resistance was too light. Normally, the Humans would have fought and slain many thousands in their effort to turn us away.”
“But we had the Warmaster this time.”
“We did,” Goro agreed. “But it still shouldn’t have gone so smoothly. The swift capture of three cities was a brilliant feat, but enough time has passed for these Humans to have mustered some real resistance. Now we are here and all they’ve been able to do is make precise tactical strikes. There have been no broad counteroffensives to reclaim strategic losses – only ever-failing defences as the tribes sweep chaotically across the land.”
“If it’s some sort of trap,” Hhrolhr snorted, “they have lost too much to set it. What do they hope to gain?”
“Decisively ending any hope of conquest for the next ten years, to start with. It will not stop our raids but if they retain their military strength, they may mount a better defence.”
“How many millions did they sacrifice for that?” Hhrolhr asked.
“How many will we lose if they succeed?” Goro answered, “Humans are not us, Hhrolhr. They are closer to Troglodytes than Ape Beastmen. A teeming prey species without the honour of noble predators.”
His grandson’s expression grew dark.
“So vile that they would even sell themselves to the Undead.”
“Indeed. Everything may be the doing of some shrewd and powerful Undead Lord. The ease of our advance after the loss of the Warmaster. The scattering of the tribes. Now the frenzy in the capital and the appearance of this army of darkness. Even with them, there are just enough to spur each tribe that encounters them to spread the word of their coming.”
Fear was one of the greatest weapons of the Undead. Spreading fear would be the hallmark of an Undead Lord.
“Everything seems reasonable enough,” Hhrolhr said. “Understanding is to our advantage.”
“When everything seems ‘reasonable enough’,” Goro told him, “that means that something is wrong. When something is too perfect, that perfection is unsettling to the senses. A shadow has been cast over the land, Hhrolhr, and we are already under its influence.”
“I wonder what father will say when I pass on your cryptic assessment.”
Goro clapped his grandson on the back.
“He will understand. Now go – the sooner we can foil what’s going on here, the sooner we go on that trip.”
Hhrolhr vanished into the tall grass; the rustling of his passage growing faint as he made his way. Goro turned and headed north over the trampled path of urmah Kisher. He stopped again after several steps.
Ah, I finally figured out what it was.
His fur stood on end, but he resumed his journey towards the distant mist. The feeling was one that Beastmen rarely experienced, especially those of the warrior castes. It was one part tension, one part anticipation and one part dread.
They were being hunted.
