《Akashi Records》


 Prologue - A Second Chance

    "I remove you from the student council effective immediately. Pack your belongings and leave," the student council president, Akashi Shizuru, declared in a calm but commanding tone. Her cold gaze left no room for argument.


    Everybody watched in awkward silence as the former treasurer stuffed her belongings into her backpack with a face red from embarrassment. She had mismanaged the student body''s funds and deserved punishment. Still, a dishonorable discharge in front of the entire student council and the gathered class presidents was too harsh.


    "We have the cultural festival coming up. Where will we find another treasurer on such short notice?" whispered the vice president sheepishly but flinched under his superior''s glare.


    "I will do her part until we can find someone fitting," Shizuru responded loudly enough for the former treasurer to hear on her way out. As the door closed, she shifted her glare to the secretary. "Yanagida, bring me a list of potential candidates by the end of the week. Council dismissed."


    For a moment, silence permeated the room. Then, as if Shizuru''s words finally sank in, everybody began to move and gather their documents. As the members left the room one by one, the president sat silently in her chair and observed their behavior. She could tell that her ruthless attitude would draw resentment, but that was only to be expected. After all, commoners could not understand the weight on the shoulders of a ruler.


    And Akashi Shizuru was from a lineage of rulers, a chosen one born to lead. Her father was a member of the House of Representatives in the National Diet like his father was before him. Her mother was the owner of a world-renowned luxury brand, part of her family''s multi-national conglomerate.


    Shizuru''s path to success had been set from the moment she was born. She would go on to live in a world far removed from her peers. Only for now did she have to deal with these lesser people whose only goal in life was subsistence.


    Shizuru completed her paperwork diligently after everybody had left before getting up to look out the window. Her driver, Gotou, had already parked at the entrance to take her to karate training. She made him wait more recently due to the increased workload for the upcoming cultural festival. With the removal of the treasurer, it would only get worse.


    As Shizuru exited the student council room, somebody stepped in her path. It was the former treasurer, Asakura Kiriko, who had waited here all this time.


    "President Akashi, please reconsider my dismissal!" the plain girl with the thick-rimmed glasses implored. Shizuru was rarely surprised, but seeing this usually soft-spoken girl raise her voice confounded her. "Being removed from the student council will be a blemish on my record and hinder my future pros-"


    "You should have considered that before you made those egregious mistakes, Asakura-san," Shizuru interrupted her with an emotionless gaze. She had no sympathy for people who came crawling back for a second chance when they should have used their first more wisely.


    "You said it! They were mistakes. Anybody can make those mistakes," Kiriko argued with a desperate smile.


    "If anybody can make those mistakes, why should I accept you back? I could find somebody else to do the job just as badly," said Shizuru with a scoff, and Kiriko''s expression froze over. "We are the student council. We cannot afford to make mistakes, or it will affect the entire student body. Have a good day, Asakura-san."


    The president walked past the devastated Kiriko and headed for the stairs without giving her another look. She had already wasted enough time on this failure.


    "Please, I will do better! Just give me another chance!" But Kiriko did not give up and chased after Shizuru, who ignored her and continued down the corridor.


    She had heard of such people from her parents many times. They could not take responsibility for their mistakes and step out of the way for somebody better suited to take their place. Instead, they dug in with their rotten claws to hold onto power and status even if they were unfit to wield it.


    "Please, listen to me, president!" Kiriko grabbed Shizuru''s arm and tried to stop her.


    "Cease this unsightly behavior!" she spun around and flared up, yanking her arm away from the plain girl. But she encountered no resistance from the girl''s loose grip, causing her to stumble sideways. Her foot slipped on the edge of the stairs, and her world spun over itself.


    The last thing she saw was Kiriko''s shocked expression atop the stairs. Then, oblivion.


    She was surrounded by pure white. Had she hit her head so hard that the stars one usually saw from a hard fall covered her entire vision?


    However, she realized that she could not feel her body. No, she could not feel anything at all. There was no sound, she drew no breath, and she could not blink. Panic rose in Shizuru''s mind when a singular idea muscled its way to the forefront of her thoughts: The fall damaged her spine.


    "The girl''s life has come to an end." A reverberating disembodied voice that could belong to either a man or a woman echoed through the nothingness.


    "I died?!" she screamed internally.


    "My, the girl''s mind remains." The voice spoke with a hint of fascination, evidently reading her thoughts. "The girl''s end was sudden and painless."


    "No, I can''t be dead! I still have my whole life before me!" Shizuru panicked, but she did not breathe harder and had no heartbeat that could quicken. It only drove home the truth about her situation and made her thoughts spiral out of control.


    "The girl had a whole life before her," said the voice calmly. "It is now over."


    "No, bring me back! I was a chosen one! I was destined for greatness!" she demanded, irreverent of the fact she was perhaps speaking to a god.


    "Many think like that. But death finds them all the same," explained the voice.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    "I haven''t even lived my life yet!" Shizuru shouted in her mind, but she instinctively grasped the reality of her situation. She had died, and this was the afterlife. There was no going back.


    "The girl should have considered that before making such a mistake," the voice stated with unwavering calmness. "Very well. The girl shall have a second chance. But for that, the girl has to fight. Lives are not granted easily, after all."


    Before Shizuru could thank the god, her consciousness began to fade. The last thought running through her mind before the whiteness overwhelmed it was a question. What did the voice mean when it said she would have to fight?


    She started to feel. Her body was enveloped by warmth, and a steady rhythmic drum played in the background.


    Lub dub. Lub dub. Lub dub.


    However, there was an orchestra of faster drums all around her, not following a particular rhythm and out of sync with the prevalent powerful beat that permeated her very being. And she felt the same quickened drum inside herself.


    She was inside a womb, and she shared it with five siblings. A small part of her mind wondered if starting over from birth was the god''s definition of a second chance. Yet, she distinctly remembered she was an only child. If she had five stillborn siblings, her parents would have told her.


    She was lulled back into sleep soon after, and her doubts faded with her waking mind.


    An excruciating pain ran through her mind and startled her awake. Despite being blind still, she could sense that her little arm had disappeared. Her siblings were trashing about in a frenzy, wiggling their small bodies against hers until tiny needles brushed against her skin. Teeth.


    They sunk into her back but were pulled away suddenly, creating a painful gash in their wake. It was then that she felt there was no umbilical cord. No nutrients were entering her system. Her siblings had awakened before her and instinctively knew that eating each other was the only path to survival.


    The tiny voice in her mind telling her that all of this was wrong, that this was not how human babies were born, was drowned out by pain and overwhelming hunger.


    Of the six heartbeats in this sanctuary before birth, only three others remained. The warmth of the womb and the unchanged rhythm of her mother''s heart told her everything was in order. They were meant to kill each other, and only the strongest would survive to be born into this world.


    It felt like a lifetime ago that a voice had told her to fight. She had been reincarnated as an animal!


    She remembered her time as a human, living in a peaceful nation far from viciousness and cruelty. She had never been in a real fight before, only in karate tournaments. Now, she would have to kill and cannibalize her unborn siblings to start her new life.


    What did she do to deserve this?


    One of her struggling siblings brushed against the stump of her missing arm. Pain shot through her body, and she convulsed. Her consciousness faltered as an overwhelming urge to feed washed over her mind. Her jaws opened on their own, taking in the amniotic fluid saturated with the blood of her dismembered siblings. The taste caused her bestial instincts to take over.


    She felt one of her siblings'' limbs before her and bit down on it with all her little strength. Her nerves fired all across her body, and she began to instinctively shake her head to saw off the part inside her mouth. Within a few strokes, nourishing flesh came free, and she greedily swallowed it.


    It was far from enough.


    The next time she regained control over her thoughts, only her mother''s slow and steady heartbeat remained beside her own quick drumming one. Floating inside the now lonely haven, she felt content and perhaps even a little proud of herself. A distant memory told her she was a chosen one, and dying in the womb was not how her story would end.


    She could open her eyes now and saw a twilight of red and orange. Her arm had regrown, and the blood had been cleared from the amniotic fluid, leaving behind a clear liquid illuminated by the light falling through her mother''s stomach wall. Even though she had killed all her siblings, her mind was unburdened by that fact. She did what she had to.


    A part of her dreaded the thought of leaving this warm and peaceful embrace eventually, but she slipped into slumber before it could grow roots in her heart.


    Suddenly, she was assaulted by tightness all around before light blinded her eyes. Something grabbed her head, and she instinctively twisted her neck to bite it, drawing blood and eliciting a surprised scream. That''s when she realized that she was in the process of being born.


    Snapping her eyes open, she blinked them a few times to remove the fluids clinging to her face. The first thing she saw was a ceiling made from cloth. All this time, she had thought she would be a predatory wild animal born in a forest or maybe even the ocean. Seeing signs of civilization confused her.


    A pair of large hands grabbed her roughly and pulled her up, and the grayish-white face of a rugged-looking man with sharp blue eyes filled her view. His red hair connected seamlessly to his full beard, giving him a leonine appearance. The intense eyes checked her body all over, then stopped on her eyes before his thin lips parted to reveal three rows of shark-like teeth. It was the look of a predator that had found prey.


    Tears inadvertently filled the newborn girl''s eyes as the intimidating glare overwhelmed her. Despite remembering her past life, she began crying like the baby that she was. The man''s expression froze over in surprise. Another pair of hands took her out of his grasp, and a voice behind her spoke in a scolding tone. The sounds were muffled because of the liquids still in her ears, but the words did not sound Japanese.


    She was moved halfway across the room and placed in a warm bath. The woman leaning over her looked human except for the bluish complexion of her skin and the pointy ears. But before she could contemplate what that meant, she was wrapped in a soft cloth.


    Finally, the newborn was carried into the loving embrace of a woman lying on a bed made from pillows and soft furs. Her face, rimmed with flowing red hair, resembled the man who handled her roughly moments ago. When she opened her mouth, there were also three rows of sharp teeth.


    It dawned on her that this was her mother, and the man was her father.


    Suddenly, the tent''s door flap was brushed aside, and two boys stormed inside. They also had grayish-white skin and red mane-like hair and looked like perfect twins. Speaking excitedly, they ran past her father and surrounded her from both sides. She could not understand what they said while grinning at her with the murderous teeth all her family members sported. They were likely her brothers.


    For a moment, she caught herself feeling joy at the thought that she would not grow up as an only child. But then she remembered that she had been born alone due to her own actions. Nausea rose from the pit of her stomach, and she felt the urge to vomit.


    But one of the boys suddenly poked her cheek with a sharp claw growing in place of a human''s nails. Even though she was a newborn baby, it did not pierce her skin, and all other thoughts were blown away when the boy on the other side approached her with his mouth wide open.


    Her mother''s palm hit the boy straight on the nose with a scolding yell, and she pushed him away. She repeated the same to his twin, even though he had not done anything. She ordered them to leave along with their father, who shot the newborn girl one last dubious look before grabbing the two boys by their tails.


    They were flattened and segmented, with a bulbous final segment sporting a curved stinger like a scorpion''s tail. It grew from the bases of their spines and could reach over their heads. The father pulled the boys out of the tent while holding open the door flap with his own tail.


    She saw that her mother also had one, hanging off the bed to her side. The girl put conscious thought into her body''s form for the first time and found that she had five fingers on each hand and five toes on each foot, just like a human.


    However, the cloth wrapped around her lower body bulged from the inside. Even though she could not see it now, she surely had the same kind of tail as the rest of her family. Hers was likely much smaller and less mobile as she had only been born, but she could wiggle it about.


    She originally thought she had been reincarnated as an animal, but this was the last piece of evidence that this was an entirely different world. This was her second chance.

 Chapter 1 - Children of the Steppe

    Several days went by since her birth. Like any newborn, she slept more than she was awake, and the only sounds she could make were baby noises. She enjoyed the warmth of a loving mother who spent every waking hour with her. The part within her named Shizuru remembered only fragments of her previous childhood, but her mother had been quite distant. She grew up in a cold household with servants but absent parents, so being able to experience a different environment like this nourished her soul.


    She quickly began to grasp basic words and learned her new name was Viyal. It was the word she heard her mother say the most when looking at her. Be it because she retained the memories of her past life or the nature of the species she became, she learned this world''s spoken language faster than any human baby could.


    Viyal''s twin elder brothers, Noro and Saro, visited every day. Their appearances corresponded to ten-year-old human children, and they had personalities to match. Although they teased her by poking her all over, they evidently lovingly welcomed their new family member in their own childish way.


    Days turned into weeks. Viyal''s mother did not breastfeed her; she was no human, after all, and was as flat as a board. Instead, she was given chopped raw meat, which her feeding instincts forced her to devour despite her mental inhibitions. That likely contributed to her quick growth.


    Her tail underwent molting twice and grew by one entire segment in that time. It was still too short to reach her shoulder blades, but after two more segments, it would be long enough to use as a weapon. At the same time, Viyal noticed that her limbs grew strong enough for her to flip herself over and crawl in her crib.


    It was unthinkable for a human baby to do this only a few weeks after being born. But given that she had fully-formed teeth at birth, it was safe to say that children of this species had to grow up quickly to survive. Perhaps she was lucky to have a loving family to keep her safe.


    Viyal''s father only came back into the tent again after a month. When he did, she felt a strain in his rugged features. He discussed things with his wife while glancing in Viyal''s direction with his brow furrowed. Even though she did not understand what they were talking about, she picked up on the fact that there appeared to be something wrong with her.


    An elderly woman dressed in a dark robe with her face covered in an elaborately painted paper mask came to examine her. She burned incense and spoke as if in a trance, marking her as a shaman. Viyal''s parents listened to her respectfully, showing she had some authority as perhaps a religious figure. Their conversation contained countless words she did not understand. Still, the overall meaning pointed to one thing: They had to take their daughter somewhere.


    The next morning, Viyal''s mother carried her outside the tent she was born in for the very first time. She was greeted by the vast blue sky of this new world over rolling green hills as far as the eyes could see. They were in the middle of a gathering of perhaps a hundred tents. Countless people, not one looking human, were busy packing up.


    At the edge of the gathering was a fenced-in area teeming with quadrupedal animals featuring elaborate antlers and bushy tails. One man used a long staff with a feathered tip to guide them toward an opening where people put harnesses and cloth saddles on the creatures. The entire camp looked like it was in the process of getting ready to move.


    Her father approached wearing a feathered band holding back his mane and a padded vest embroidered with a stalking lion-like animal. He was followed by an entourage of warriors led by two from the same species of blue-skinned and pointy-eared humanoids as Viyal''s midwife. They wore similar but far less decorated outfits and carried spears. Short bows rested in leather holsters on their hips.


    Viyal had been born into a nomadic tribe living on a steppe, and judging by this display, her father was the chief.


    He glanced at his daughter, then spoke to his wife carrying her. Viyal could not understand the meaning of his statement or perhaps order. Her mother nodded silently and turned to look around.


    "Where are Noro and Saro?" she asked, speaking a complete sentence Viyal understood for once. It was a common phrase, one her mother used almost every day. The twins were incredibly active and mischievous, bothering everybody with their rough play.


    "They ride with me," her father answered tersely, pointing at the paddock. He was a man of few words at the best of times. Viyal peered in the direction and spotted her two brothers waiting at the exit in full gear, gnawing on a roast rib each. They likely stole those off somebody''s grill.


    Her mother shook her head in disapproval, but she clearly had no say in how the future heirs to the tribe were trained by their father. Instead, she looked across her husband''s entourage and furrowed her brow. "Has your brother returned?"


    Viyal was not surprised to learn that her father had a brother, likely a twin.


    "No." That was all he said before turning aside and raising his palm toward his wife without looking. Viyal blinked in surprise when her mother smiled warmly at the gesture and took the offered hand. From their previous interactions, she had thought her parents were only together out of obligation. But she could tell they were in love, even if they barely showed it.


    Her father guided her mother down the slope toward a canopied cart drawn by a pair of the reindeer-like animals the tribe herded. He helped his wife onto it and nodded with his usual firm expression before turning away and leaving with his entourage.


    Viyal watched from her mother''s arms as the tents were taken down with expert movements, and the entire tribe was ready to go before noon. It set out in a long procession and traveled in the direction of the sun''s movement across the sky. Six-wheeled carts carrying the tribe''s belongings rolled in the center, flanked by riders on both sides. They were prepared for an attack from any side.


    The ride across the steppe had Viyal''s three rows of teeth clattering. She could still vividly remember the smooth car rides on paved roads, so this was a truly otherworldly experience. Having grown up in a modern city with all its convenient amenities, life in a nomadic tribe was hard to accept. Still, she was the daughter of the chief. Once she grew older, she would use her authority and the knowledge from her past life to improve everybody''s living conditions.


    Noro and Saro came by on their reindeer mounts to wave at Viyal. She raised a hand and returned the gesture, causing the twins to raise their eyebrows in surprise. They broke out into beaming grins, and Viyal felt warmth spread in her heart. Her mother smiled at their interaction, and the world was at peace.


    Days and weeks traveling on the steppe blended together in Viyal''s mind. She learned more of the language everybody around her spoke as there were now more voices to listen to. It was almost a magical growth as she began comprehending abstract words such as numbers and concepts even without being taught directly. She quickly began to piece together the meanings of increasingly complex sentences.


    At one point, the tribe met with another traveling procession, and tension hung in the air. Viyal''s father met with the other chief and exchanged gifts, and the two sides became best friends for the day. Members of both tribes took the opportunity to mingle and barter for goods. Nomadic steppes were not entirely lawless and full of marauders as she imagined after what she learned in history class in her previous life. Even in a world without technology, people could be civilized.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Viyal noticed an assortment of wicker cages on one of the other tribe''s carts. They housed birds and small mammals, likely kept for food. A few of her tribesmen presented goods to barter for them and asked to get a closer look at the animals. When some cages were removed, a larger one at the bottom was revealed, and Viyal''s eyes widened.


    A small girl, roughly the same apparent age as her, was curled up into a ball inside it. She had roughly cut short, flaxen hair, but two longer patches covered her ears and twitched at the sounds of the people surrounding her. Was she a slave, or did the nomads treat her species as food?


    Viyal shuddered at the memories of what she did inside her mother''s womb. She ate her unborn siblings, so perhaps it was considered normal to consume sentient humanoid beings for her kind. But she could not abide by that; her morality from her past life did not allow her to accept such barbarity.


    "What is it, Viyal?" her mother asked when she stretched an arm toward the cart.


    "Want," Viyal declared, then blinked in surprise at her own voice coming out. Her throat was not yet developed enough for speech, so she could only approximate the noises to form the word. When she tried to say more, her voice came out as meaningless babbling. She could not yet say anything complex that required finer control over her vocal cords.


    Her mother stared at her in confusion. The girl had spoken her first word, and it was one filled with selfishness. Surely, she would be disappointed.


    "Amiro! Call for Amiro!" she cried out instead and waved at one of her cart''s guards. The man rode off and returned with the chief after a few moments. Viyal was shocked to learn her father''s name this way.


    Chief Amiro rode high on a stag with richly decorated antlers and towered over his wife and daughter''s cart. He furrowed his brow, wearing an expression implying he better have been called for something important. His wife picked up Viyal and raised her toward him. "She spoke!"


    "What did she say?" His cold expression melted at those words, and he stared at Viyal expectantly. She noticed the cart with the cages starting to move away from the corner of her eyes and twisted her body to point at it.


    "Want!" she yelled and struggled. It took her father aback since he likely expected a baby''s regular first words like mama or papa.


    "Want? What does she want?" Instead of following Viyal''s gesturing, Amiro asked his wife.


    "Maybe she wants to eat something living?" her mother wondered, turning to the departing cart.


    "Stop them," the chief ordered one of his men before getting off his mount and taking Viyal out of her mother''s hands. He carried her to the cart with the caged animals and examined the merchandise. "Which do you want?"


    Viyal gestured at the cage housing the girl with the dog ears, who had opened her eyes and stared up at Amiro with a terrified expression. He made for an imposing figure, towering over most of his tribesmen by a head. But her fear was so pervasive that perhaps she associated him with a predator.


    "You want to eat this one?" Amiro asked Viyal with a rare smile that showed off his sharp teeth. She shook her head and denied that notion vehemently.


    "Not this one? Which then?" Not understanding Viyal''s intentions, Amiro pointed at another cage. It was filled with hairy rodents with their mouths tied up so they could not chew through the bars. The very idea of eating those alive caused her to recoil.


    She struggled and slipped out of her father''s grip, causing her to fall onto the cart''s loading bay face-first. Her mother, who had followed them quietly, gasped and rushed forward, but her father stopped her. Viyal pushed herself off the wooden surface and rubbed her face, but she did not cry. She crawled forward and grabbed the bars of the cage with the little girl inside, who pressed herself against the opposite side, trying to escape.


    "So it was this one." Amiro scratched his beard thoughtfully. Then, he waved over the owner of the cart. "I''ll give you a Shinoon leather belt for it."


    Shinoon was the name for the reindeer-like animals his tribe bred. Their leather was of high quality, both soft and tough at the same time. The tribe used it to make clothes, equipment, decorative items, and more. Viyal''s mother busied herself with such handicrafts on the cart when not taking care of her.


    "That is too little for one so precious," the man argued, speaking with a distinct accent. He rubbed his hands together and grinned expectantly. It appeared to be a universal gesture for greed, even in another world like this.


    "What makes it so precious?" The chief peered past Viyal into the cage. The terrified girl hissed in a panic but had nowhere to escape.


    "Nokkoy, last of her kind," responded the trader. Perhaps that was the name for her tribe or her species.


    "You ate them all?" wondered Amiro with an eyebrow raised.


    "Oh no, tribe was destroyed. Mother was vooru but died in birth," the man explained with an expression of feigned sadness. Viyal did not understand the word vooru but had a few ideas about what it could mean, judging by how this girl was treated.


    "So, is it tasty?" Amiro ignored the part about the girl''s tribe having been destroyed and focused on what was important to him.


    "We... we never ate them." The trader seemed confused and glanced around as if looking for an explanation.


    "Doesn''t look like much meat. You didn''t fatten it," the chief continued with an expression of disdain. "A Shinoon belt might be too much."


    The man''s expression changed when Amiro did not relent and even appeared ready to retract his previous generous offer. Clearly, Shinoon leather wares were more valuable than a baby, which only cost resources to keep alive and did not contribute to the tribe. Thus, the trader reluctantly caved to the initial offer but demanded to be allowed to choose from a selection.


    Amiro picked up Viyal with one hand and opened the cage with his other while one of his men went to fetch their tailor to bring the goods. The little girl inside hissed, pressing herself against the bars opposite the door. "Your father will butcher it for you."


    Viyal froze at those words, and her eyes widened. Then she turned around and pulled on his beard to scream, "No!"


    "Another word!" her mother was delighted that her daughter was developing so quickly.


    "You want to do it yourself?" Amiro stopped his hand at the cage door and wondered. He then turned to the trader with a concerned expression. "Is this Nokkoy dangerous?"


    "Good fighters, but nothing like you Mosyvvi. This one is still a baby. No teeth," the man assured him. He glanced at Viyal, who had a mouth full of sharp teeth that could rend even a fully grown Shinoon''s tough hide and suppressed a shudder.


    "Go on then, Viyal." Knowing his daughter was in no danger, Amiro lowered her onto the cart in front of the open cage door. The girl inside stared at her with eyes as large as saucers. They were a bright amber, but their beauty was marred by the fear emanating from them.


    Viyal began to crawl slowly inside the cage so as to not startle her. From up close, the Nokkoy looked almost human, but her jaw was slightly elongated into a snout with a button nose. At this distance, she could see that the girl had a faint hint of blonde fuzz covering her face, although it was not on the level of fur.


    She tried to smile, but it only caused the dog-eared girl to hiss in response. That was when she remembered that her sharp teeth doubtlessly gave her an intimidating look like her family. Seeing this, she stopped and sat on her bottom to signal she would not get any closer. Then she opened her palms in an attempt to appear non-threatening. She did not know if this world considered raised hands a gesture of peace. Luckily, it seemed to work on the little girl, as her expression changed from pure terror to confusion.


    "Viyal," she introduced herself, eliciting another excited gasp from her mother, coming from surprisingly close. She glanced back and found her parents crouching in front of the cart to watch their daughter''s work. Suppressing the urge to shake her head, she looked at the dog girl again and extended a hand toward her. The gesture caused her to shy back, but she raised an ear slightly and tilted her hea


    She was unsure how intelligent the Nokkoy were, especially one this young. Perhaps the little girl did not understand words yet and was too scared of the world to accept a stranger, even if they came in the form of a child her own age. Still, Viyal sat there with her arms extended and blinked slowly to avoid startling her.


    Finally, the dog girl began to move and slowly crawled forward while sniffing the air. She glanced past Viyal, afraid her parents could suddenly pounce. But they watched the cage silently, waiting to see what their daughter would do. Surely, they were not still thinking she would eat the Nokkoy, but she was unsure about her father''s thought process.


    Viyal extended her palm forward to let the girl smell it. Her claws had yet to grow out, so it did not appear threatening. The Nokkoy gingerly sniffed her fingers, then looked up with puppy eyes filled with a glimmer of hope. Viyal only nodded; she would not betray that gaze. The dog girl understood the gesture and slowly crawled up to her, nuzzling into her chest.


    "No food," Viyal turned around and spoke to her parents, who raised their eyebrows in surprise. She squeezed the Nokkoy tightly. "Fwend."

 Chapter 2 - The Zakhira Tribe

    The Nokkoy girl had no name, so Viyal''s mother called her Yunil. Viyal suspected that it was supposed to be her twin''s name, the one she ate during the struggle for survival inside their mother''s womb. Thus, she welcomed Yunil like the sister she never had. The two children were inseparable.


    Viyal stayed with her at all times. One reason was that Yunil was too afraid to let anybody else touch her besides Viyal and her mother. Another was that Viyal feared somebody would think of eating her, specifically her father or her brothers. The two played until they were exhausted, bathed together, and slept in the same crib. For all intents and purposes, they were like twins.


    Thus, two more months passed on the steppes, and the children grew considerably. Yunil tottered everywhere, and Viyal was usually not far behind. Her vocal cords developed enough to string a decent sentence together, although longer and more complex words were still difficult. On the other hand, Yunil only yipped or barked, trying to copy the sounds of words she heard. Viyal worried that Nokkoy could not speak at all, but she clearly understood and reacted to the people around her.


    She learned her brothers, Noro and Saro, were younger than expected. They shot up like young teenagers but had only seen four more thawing seasons than her. Their species, the Mosyvvi, apparently had a completely different life cycle than humans. Her mother, Nayavi, gave birth to the twins when she was only twelve, but for her species, that was a normal age.


    The same seemed to be the case for the Nokkoy. Yunil grew slightly faster than Viyal, who already reached the size of a human toddler despite being only four months old. Perhaps the inhabitants of the steppe all matured quickly to survive its dangers. And dangers could lurk over every hill.


    Once, they were attacked by bandits while setting up camp. Three dozen riders came over a hill and fired arrows from the backs of their Shinoona. Viyal''s father showed his mettle as the chief and rode out to face the enemies head-on. It was a short battle, and seven enemies lay dead before the rest fled.


    "Remember this defeat at the hands of the Zakhira!" Amiro''s bellowing voice carried over many hills, announcing his tribe''s might across the steppe. Beside him rode Noro and Saro, practicing their battle roars after the victory. Viyal glanced at her mother and saw a disapproving frown.


    Besides the occasional meeting with another tribe and run-ins with bandits, the steppe was a beautiful but lonely place. They steadily journeyed in the direction where the sun set until, one day, a snow-capped mountain range began to peek over the horizon. Judging by the ambient temperature, it was still the middle of summer, meaning those mountains were likely over three thousand meters tall.


    A few days later, over a hundred riders appeared over the horizon behind them in the evening as the tribe set up camp. Viyal was surprised to find joyous faces all around instead of anxious ones. As the riders approached in a long column, she understood why.


    At its head rode a man who looked almost exactly like Amiro. His red mane was slightly larger, and his musclebound arms were on full display as he wore a sleeveless padded vest. A woman who was the spitting image of Viyal''s mother accompanied him, although her hair was worn in three rows of braids. They were the twins of her father and mother, Gavro and Zalavi.


    Amiro rode out to meet them with several members of his entourage. When he approached his brother, he called out to him enthusiastically. They had not seen each other since before Viyal was born and had many stories to share. They got off their Shinoona and hugged.


    "Brother, I bring news from the Sunrise Lowlands," announced Gavro.


    "Come, rest, and have a drink. Only when you have wet your throat with wine shall you talk of serious matters," Amira took him by the wrist and pulled him along. Gavro glanced back at his wife with a wry smile. She shrugged and followed him as they walked back toward the tribe.


    Viyal spotted someone among Gavro''s entourage who stood out like no other. He was a man in a suit of pitch-black plate armor. A pointed crimson hood with a thick tassel at the tip was pulled deep into his face. Only a pale hooked nose peeked out from underneath, and a bushy gray full beard fell over his chest. A straight sword dangled from his belt, a weapon like no other she had seen on these steppes. Walking behind him was a quadrupedal horse-like animal in black plate barding. It had no head, and dark fog emanated from its neck instead, obscuring the view of what lay underneath.


    As the other riders dispersed into the camp, reuniting with their families, he followed Amiro and Gavro as they approached where Viyal waited with Yunil and her mother. Nobody seemed to pay the black knight any attention, so she wondered if perhaps he was an apparition only she could see. Was he a god of death, coming to undo her second chance at life?


    "Be not afraid, my child. That is Rowen," Nayavi noticed her daughter''s fearful look and explained. "He is a mighty warrior from a faraway land who swore fealty to your father."


    When Gavro approached them, his eyes widened. He pulled his wrist out of his brother''s grip and rushed forward with an almost manic expression. Viyal realized his gaze was fixated on her, and she started to worry. Yunil''s hair stood on end, and she held onto Viyal in fear.


    "There they are!" Gavro stopped short of the crib and peered down curiously at the two fearful girls. But then he furrowed his brow and turned to Nayavi. "This one is too white. And this one is not a Mosyv."


    Viyal did not know what her uncle meant by her being too white. There were no mirrors in the tribe, so she did not know what she looked like. Still, she did not think her skin was much lighter than her mother''s. Since their kind did not tan from sunlight, she thought this level of variation was normal.


    "She was born alone," explained her mother. "And this is Yunil, a Nokkoy child she saved."


    "So young and already a savior!" Gavro spoke with an impressed look at the two children huddling together. His expression grew sober, and he peered back at Amiro. "What is it you wish to learn that you journey to the Akhma Merkheleh?"


    "Our Takheleh could not see through Viyal''s mist of time and told us to seek the elder of the mountain," explained his brother calmly.


    Viyal learned that the elderly woman with the painted paper mask who came to examine her soon after her birth was the tribe''s shaman, called a Takheleh. Since she had been unable to divine her fortune, she told them to seek the counsel of the Akhma Merkheleh, the master of all shamans.


    "This child must be destined for greatness, then!" said Gavro with a joyous grin that showed off his three rows of sharp teeth. Hearing this, Viyal''s ears perked up. As expected, she was still a chosen one, just like in her previous life! "This doubly calls for a feast! Call the cooks!"


    Gavro turned to the servants and ordered. They lowered their heads and moved quickly. Viyal had only ever seen such behavior when the chief gave orders. It showed that his authority was no lower than her father''s.


    Zalavi took the opportunity to slip by her husband and get a closer look at her niece. She was a mirror image of Nayavi except for a small scar splitting her left eyebrow. Her appearance suggested she was more comfortable fighting on a Shinoon''s back than sitting on a cart doing handicrafts.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    "I believe my husband is speaking true. Her eyes show wisdom beyond her years," said Zalavi with a warm smile toward her sister. At those words, Viyal suppressed the urge to look away. She did not know if there was precedent of somebody being reincarnated into this world with their memories and how such people were treated. In either case, she would rather not find out they were shunned or even killed while she was still a weak child unable to live on her own.


    "Rowen, come greet my daughter." Amiro waved over the black knight. Viyal''s thoughts were blown away when the old man approached with the clattering sound of steel armor. He left his headless mount, which started to walk away on its own, and stepped up to Viyal. His eyes were hidden by the crimson hood, but he seemed capable of seeing his way regardless.


    "A wonderful young lady," Rowen spoke with a thick accent unlike any Viyal had heard before. His voice was surprisingly grandfatherly, not at all as otherworldly as she expected based on his appearance. He drew his sword, fell onto one knee, and lowered his head before her. "As I have sworn to serve and protect your other family members, so I swear to serve and protect you."


    "No need to be so formal, Rowen. You are a friend, not a servant," Amiro said with a wry smile and helped the elderly man back onto his feet.


    Viyal was overwhelmed by Rowen''s profession of loyalty. In her previous life, she had seen people speak to her father in a similar fashion. But not once had she felt such sincerity as she had from this old knight. After all, everybody had an ulterior motive in buttering up to a member of the national diet, but this man''s declaration was genuine.


    "Come, let us drink and feast," said Amiro, taking Gavro and Rowen by their wrists to pull them away to the center of the tent village.


    A festive atmosphere soon spread among the tribe. The reunited families sat together and partook of food and drink by the bonfire. Nayavi had much to share with her sister, so Viyal took Yunil by the hand and walked among the people to see the unfamiliar faces. As she passed by near her father and uncle, she overheard their conversation as it turned to a more serious topic.


    "We will not join that coalition. The Gadat are no enemies of ours." Amiro sounded obstinate, and Gavro sighed in resignation.


    "The Gadat do not think the same about our people on the lowlands. They send armies to hunt our kind every summer," he argued between sips.


    "When they come for us, we will fight. But the Zakhira do not stray into the lowlands. It is the lowland people''s problem," responded Amiro, his tone making it clear that he would not discuss the matter further.


    Viyal did not understand everything they were discussing, but war appeared to be brewing in the neighboring lands. At least she assumed that the Sunrise Lowlands were adjacent to the steppes, the only place she knew in this life.


    Yunil suddenly pulled on her hand and dragged her along. She turned to see her friend heading toward a grill with an assortment of Shinoon meat on skewers. Viyal felt her mouth water at the smell. She had only been fed raw meat in this life, so the prospect of eating it grilled triggered memories from her previous life.


    The two toddlers weaved through the other tribe members and approached the grill. The man turning the skewers was Mannogur, the tribe''s chief cook. He was a Rausam, a species of broad and stout humanoids with leathery brown skin. What they lacked in necks, they made up for with massive mouths that could swallow Viyal and Yunil whole. He reminded her of a toad, but when he opened his mouth to taste some of the meat, he showed off two rows of sharp teeth.


    "Give us two," she called out to Mannogur, causing him to bite through the wooden skewer in surprise.


    "The chief''s daughter! Of course, here you go!" His voice was deep and reverberating, seemingly shaking the ground he stood on. He laughed heartily and handed the two girls freshly grilled meat skewers covered in tiny red and green flakes. This was the first time Viyal saw something like spices in this world.


    "What is this?" she pointed at the flakes.


    "Oh? The chief''s brother got these from the Tabra tribe. Try it and tell me what you think," Mannogur said, his broad mouth opening into a sharp-toothed grin. If Viyal were not used to seeing her family''s smiles, she would have feared being eaten. Several tribe members sported features a human would consider threatening, so she got used to it by now.


    Viyal sniffed the skewer suspiciously, but there was only the delicious scent of grilled Shinoon meat. She glanced at Yunil, who did the same but then decided it was edible and bit down on it with her recently grown teeth. If the dog-like girl''s nose could not detect anything, there was likely nothing wrong.


    But right as Viyal snapped off a piece of the meat with her teeth, Yunil started coughing. Tears filled her eyes, and she dropped her skewer, but Mannogur caught it with surprisingly nimble movements before it hit the ground. Viyal stared at him as he laughed heartily, but there was no malice in his mirth.


    Then, the taste started to sink in for her, and she understood what it was. The flakes were perhaps like dried hot pepper, which were incredibly spicy. She would not have had any trouble with it in her previous life, but this body was not used to it. Rather than being hot, it simply hurt.


    "You can spit it out if it''s too much, young lady," said Mannogur when he noticed Viyal''s face growing red. His joy at having pranked the chief''s daughter slowly receded, and worry set in when she refused and swallowed the meat. Her species did not have molars, so she could not chew, but that only made it worse as the flakes stuck to the inside of her throat. "Here, have some milk."


    Viyal took the gourd and gulped down its contents, putting out the fire in her mouth with a wave of cool milk. On the one hand, she was glad to know that spices existed in this tribe''s cuisine, but on the other, she would have liked to find out without going to the extreme like this.


    "Too early for you, huh? Hope the chief won''t have my head for this," Mannogur joked with a wry smile while helping Yunil drink.


    "Do you have other meat?" Viyal asked with a feigned resentful look, and the Rausam threw up his hands in defeat. Laughing heartily, he took several skewers without spicy flakes off the grill and handed them to the two children.


    Having been burned once, Yunil was more cautious this time and examined it closely. Viyal took her by the hand and pulled her along while Mannogur waved at them. There were still more things her uncle brought from his expedition to explore at this feast, and she wanted to see it all before sleepiness would start to set in.


    The tribesmen welcomed them wherever they went, patting their heads and handing them food. Viyal felt transported back to that one time in her previous life when her parents took her to a local summer festival. The various species of this tribe had their own cooking style, so it was akin to visiting different food stalls.


    The most common dishes were meat and dairy-based. Vegetables were rather scarce on the steppes, where grasses dominated the flora. Only rarely could one find patches of edible plants growing on rocky hills, so they were reserved for special occasions like tonight''s feast. The tribe would sometimes come into possession of flour or dried fruits through trade or raiding other tribes. They were usually made into small round cakes for desserts.


    Viyal wondered about the nutritional balance of this mostly meat-based diet. She was not a human and had no molars, so perhaps at least her species was entirely carnivorous. Yunil was much like a dog from Earth, with both sharp teeth for ripping meat and molars for grinding vegetables. The Bavadi, the blue-skinned and pointy-eared humanoids who made up roughly half of the tribe''s population, were similar in that regard.


    They passed by an old man with a long white beard and bushy brows that covered his eyes, smoking a pipe at the edge of the festivities. He was Odaron, the Jagul''s elder, their representative, and advisor to the chief. The Jagul were a human-looking species with suntanned skin, earlobes reaching down to their shoulders, and elongated skulls.


    "Careful not to fall, little ones," Odaron called after them with a chuckle. He was always friendly around Viyal, but she knew his resolute side from eavesdropping on the elder meetings. And in battle, the Jagul were as vicious as the Mosyvvi, ripping enemies to shreds with their sharp, retractable claws.


    After partaking in the specialties of the various species making up their tribe, Viyal returned to her mother with Yunil, their bellies full and their eyelids drooping from sleepiness. Although this life on the steppe was not as easy as her previous one, she felt blessed to have such a big, loving family. The entire tribe treated her like their collective daughter, and nobody was worried about her status when interacting with her.


    Shizuru had never felt stifled by the pressure her parents'' achievements exerted on her. Instead, she had always planned to surpass them in her own way eventually. But it was refreshing to live without such expectations on her shoulders. She was not a nobody in this new life, but her path did not come with the strict guardrails she previously traveled within.


    With such idle thoughts, Viyal climbed into her crib beside her mother at the edge of the festivities and helped Yunil up. She sighed contentedly and turned onto her back to behold the sea of stars above. In her previous life, she had lived looking down on the city''s lights, but this sight showed her the endless possibilities lying before her in this life. What would she do when she grew up? She had many ideas and all the freedom in the world.

 Chapter 3 - The Lands Under Azakhal

    Two months later, the once distant snow-capped mountains now towered over the Zakhira tribe''s camp. It had taken them nearly half a year to cross the vast grassy plains since the tribe traveled slowly, took many breaks, and met other tribes for trade. They had entered the rocky and sparsely vegetated landscape at the foot of the mountain range, where the cold winds blew from the heights.


    From here on out, the Shinoon would find little food, so Amiro left the tribe under his brother''s command to continue with a small contingent. Viyal was worried about being attacked by bandits since there were only a dozen riders besides her father and brothers guarding their cart. When she voiced that concern, her mother was surprised at her wisdom.


    "Worry not, my child. This sacred land is peaceful, its inhabitants kind. Not one who believes in Azakhal would dare spill blood here," Nayavi explained patiently. Viyal had heard the name Azakhal mentioned many times before and understood him to be a deity the people in these lands believed in.


    As they climbed the slope, she looked back at their tribe''s camp in the distance. The journey to the Akhma Merkheleh, the Elder of the Mountain, would take three days from here. They would overnight in homesteads along the way. Azakhal''s law of hospitality meant they would find shelter with the families living in the region for small contributions and gifts.


    Noro and Saro rode right behind their father at the front of the column, curiously taking in the unfamiliar landscape. They were born on the wide-open steppes and never saw a mountain before, let alone climbed one. Behind them came Rowen, seemingly asleep in his headless horse''s saddle. Viyal had never seen him not wearing his black armor and crimson hood, even while within the safety of the tribal camp. Perhaps he had a reason not to take it off that went beyond personal safety considerations or preparedness for battle.


    Noro and Saro gasped in wonder when they crossed their first mountain pass and looked down at the valley beyond. An evergreen forest blanketed the bottom and grew up the mountains'' slopes on all sides. One could not find a single tree on the steppe, so this was the first time in their lives they saw any vegetation tower over them.


    The locals maintained the gravel paths for the many pilgrims that came through here, so their progress was faster than traveling on the steppe. Stone piles with colorful banners fluttering in the wind marked their way, and they traveled along the slope right next to the tree line.


    Around noon, the procession crossed the valley and climbed the next slope. Viyal dredged up the memories of her past life and concluded that this mountain range was taller than anything found in Japan. She had only ever seen pictures of the Himalayas, but perhaps this region was similar in height.


    Their first evening was spent in a gathering of houses one would be hard-pressed to call a village. The buildings were made from wood and roofed with slate, constructed on the slope so each floor had a door to level ground. Their inhabitants were the Shangra, bipedal goats of short stature, who welcomed them warmly.


    Viyal snickered at the thought that these clearly herbivorous-looking people invited in the carnivores of the steppe. When her mother gave her a questioning look, she blinked innocently and hugged Yunil, who seemed restless due to the new environment. Viyal mused that the little Nokkoy''s hunting instincts had awakened from seeing her natural prey in the Shangra.


    The Zakhira ate dinner outside under the starry night sky since the Shangra did not allow meat inside the house. They considered it unclean because of the life that had to be taken to produce it. Those who ate meat had to cleanse themselves with the freezing cold water from the well before they could enter again.


    The tribesmen were split up into separate rooms. Viyal and her family got the largest guest room. For the first time since her rebirth, she lay on a soft mattress on a wooden bed under a solid roof. The windswept plains had always tugged at the tent, generating a constant noise that was wholly absent now. She was not used to the silence and could not fall asleep, so she slid off the bed to explore the house.


    "Viyal," Yunil called out to her quietly as she pushed aside the thick cloth acting as the door. The little Nokkoy had started to speak simple words over the past week, not just by mimicking the sounds with barks.


    "Shh, go back to sleep," Viyal waved at the dog girl and motioned to leave.


    "No... alone." But Yunil climbed out of the bed and followed her with a sulky expression. Knowing she could not be budged when she made such a face, Viyal sighed and took her by the hand.


    The two children tiptoed down the hallway and peeked into each room. In one slept a few of the other tribesmen who accompanied them while four men played a game of dice in another. They looked concentrated rather than jovial, showing it was a serious matter to them.


    In the third room, they found Rowen sitting at a table at the window and writing something under the moonlight while still wearing his armor and hood. It did not look like he was going to take it off or go to sleep anytime soon.


    "My, should you two ladies not be in bed?" he turned to look over his shoulder and wondered. Viyal glanced at Yunil in confusion. They had been completely silent, pushing aside the cloth in the doorway just enough to peek inside, but he had noticed them still. "Can you perhaps not sleep? It is indeed your first time in an unfamiliar place like this."


    Rowen stood up and walked through the room toward the two children. If Viyal were not used to her father and uncle''s immense height, she would consider the old knight a tall man. He squatted down despite being in full armor and extended a hand toward them.


    "Would you like me to tell you a bedtime story?" he offered, the mouth hidden under his gray beard noticeably curling into a smile.


    The two children exchanged curious looks, then nodded. Viyal''s mother had hummed her lullabies, but this would be the first time she heard a bedtime story of this world. She was interested in learning what kind of stories these fantastical beings considered fantasy.


    Rowen guided them to his untouched bed and helped them onto it. When Viyal wondered where he would sleep, he merely chuckled and said he needed none.


    "Ride and sleep," Yunil pointed at the old knight and declared.


    "That must be it," said Viyal with a smug grin.


    "Oh no, I was found out!" Rowen feigned shock and turned away in exaggerated shame.


    He soon tucked in the unruly children, pulled up a chair beside the bed, and began to tell his story. It was called ''The Faery Queen''s Court,'' a tale from his distant homeland in the west.


    The story began with a boy running away from his private tutors as a prank, escaping into the forest surrounding the estate where he had played many times before. He found a stick and played at being a knight fighting mythical monsters to save the captured princess, forgetting about his surroundings. Thus, he lost his way and stumbled deep into the forest far from home.


    As night fell, the howling of predators had him huddling in a hollowed dead tree trunk in terror. However, a distant light danced through the darkness, compelling the boy to follow it. Warm and reassuring, it seemed to guide him somewhere, slowing down whenever he had to climb over roots or round trees.


    The veil of night soon parted to reveal the brightness of a thousand lights. On a grand clearing stood a single massive tree, illuminated by small figures with shining wings. They were faeries, fluttering about with garlands and bouquets, drinking sweet nectar from flower cups, and making merry with song and dance.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    The boy was entranced by the sights and unconsciously stumbled into their midst. However, instead of being surprised by the intruder, they welcomed him warmly to their banquet in honor of their new queen''s ascension. One faery put a colorful wreath upon his brow, another placed a cloak of fine silk smelling of flowers in full bloom on his shoulders, a third handed him a wooden plate with a most fragrant fruit cake slice.


    Forgotten were the terrors of the night, and the boy thoroughly enjoyed himself in the company of the faeries. Soon, their queen descended from the tree in a rain of flower petals. She floated on butterfly wings capturing the light of the full moon, scattering glitter with their every slow beat.


    The faery queen''s ethereal beauty had the boy spellbound. If it was all a dream, he wanted to never wake from it. He forgot all about his life outside this clearing, his home, his family, who were doubtlessly looking for him desperately. All he ever wanted was to continue celebrating with the faeries.


    "You do not belong here, child," spoke an enchanting voice in his hazy mind. "Run along now. Return to your family."


    At those words, the boy suddenly awoke. He was back in the hollow tree trunk, shivering from the cold morning air and the dew that wet his hair. Distant voices called for his name; his family came searching for him.


    He was saddened that it had all been a dream. But when he moved, a flower wreath fell off his head, and a silken cloak slipped off his shoulders. As they dropped to the forest floor, they dissolved into the earth. The boy watched in wonder as a small branch grew from the dead tree, sprouting a few leaves before his very eyes. This was proof that he had been to the court of the faery queen after all.


    As Rowen concluded the story, he found Viyal staring at him with glittering eyes and Yunil fast asleep beside her. While it had worked to send one off to slumber, the other looked more awake than before. Perhaps the story was too stimulating for her since she understood more of it than Yunil.


    "Tell another," Viyal demanded with an insatiable thirst for more faery tales. Rowen chuckled at her enthusiasm and relented, beginning another story from his homeland.


    Viyal woke up in the arms of her mother. She rubbed her eyes sleepily, then looked around in surprise. They were already back on the road, traveling along the mountain road in single file. Their cart''s wheel was only inches away from a drop that would result in certain death.


    Rowen''s second story had put Viyal to sleep so thoroughly that she could not even remember what it had been about. She looked ahead and noticed the old knight glancing back over his shoulder. He seemed to nod before looking ahead again. Had he used some kind of supernatural ability to make her fall asleep?


    Given his headless mount, she could believe that magic existed in this world. Perhaps the faery queen was not just a bedtime story but reality. Could Rowen have been the boy in the tale? Did he perhaps find the faery court again and learn the spell that put him to sleep from them? With such half-serious musings swirling around her head, Viyal yawned and snuggled into her mother''s embrace.


    The journey through the mountain range was largely uneventful. These sacred lands were mostly empty nature with little vegetation and fewer inhabitants. Aside from the lay of the land, one would find nothing dangerous here.


    At noon on the third day, they rounded the bend of the slope and were greeted by a wondrous sight. In the valley below was a pristine lake overlooked by immense peaks. Nestled between its far shore and the mountain behind it was a city, the first settlement in this region one could consider as such.


    A winding road decorated with colorful banners fluttering in the wind led up the steep mountainside beyond to a building complex seemingly carved from the mountain itself. Its walls were painted in white and blue, elevating it from the earthen-colored houses below. That was doubtlessly the Akhma Merkheleh''s palace.


    Viyal spotted gigantic carp-like fish in the lake with iridescent scales glittering under the sunlight. They were large enough to swallow her whole and swam beside them for a while, perhaps curious about the travelers.


    "You cannot eat those," said her mother with a chuckle when she noticed her daughter''s stare. "They are the sacred children of dragons."


    Viyal blinked in surprise. She knew the idiom of a carp turning into a dragon from her world, but did not expect to find it here. Though, judging by the inhuman beings making up her tribe, perhaps these carp did indeed grow into dragons.


    They rounded the lake and approached the outskirts of the town. The climate was too harsh and the soil too infertile to grow much, but each of the houses had its own vegetable patch. Since everybody living in these lands were vegetarians, they kept livestock only for labor and producing milk.


    As their procession entered the settlement, the inhabitants greeted them with warm smiles and deep nods. They were mostly Shangra, but not one was worried about the dangers Viyal and her family could pose. It showed that the carnivorous species kept strictly to Azakhal''s tenets even when free meals stood before them.


    Viyal realized her thoughts often steered toward food when she saw these goat-like people. Perhaps her new body''s instincts were stronger than she thought. But her previously human mind could keep it in check; she was not so weak as to let it control her actions.


    When they reached the city center, Viyal realized why the population welcomed them so warmly. A stone statue depicting a male Mosyv sitting cross-legged on a fallen log dominated the square. Closed eyes and a half-open mouth showing off his sharp teeth gave off mixed signals of peacefulness and potential for violence. His wrists rested on his knees, with the left hand an open palm and the right holding a small wooden stick. He wore a blue cloak made from real cloth, placed on his shoulders by the city''s inhabitants.


    "Is that Azakhal?" Viyal asked her mother quietly.


    "Oh, no. That is Valoro, the first Akhma Merkheleh and founder of the Temple of Time," Nayavi responded, pointing at the palace towering over the city. It was even more impressive from up close, a testament to the architectural prowess of the locals.


    "The first Akhma Merkheleh ate meat?" wondered Viyal, looking at Valoro''s sharp teeth.


    "He used to be a bloodthirsty warrior of the steppe. But when he felt himself chosen by Azakhal, he renounced killing, came to this land, and had the temple constructed," her mother recounted Valoro''s story. "He did not eat for the rest of his life and gave the first and last prophecy as the Akhma Merkheleh in the finished temple: When and where to find his successor."


    The skeptic in Shizuru furrowed her brow at that explanation. She learned early on from her father that religion only existed to manipulate the uneducated masses. A warrior renouncing killing and building a temple to their god felt like an excuse for something, although she could not say what it was without knowing more.


    Their procession reached the bottom of the winding path leading up to the temple. Only Viyal and her parents would proceed from here while the others had to wait below. It was the first time she had to separate from Yunil since they came together, and the Nokkoy let everybody know that. She struggled and complained, but Rowen held her back gently.


    The last stretch was too narrow and steep for the Shinoona, let alone a cart. Amiro carried Viyal in his strong arms while following Nayavi''s pace up the slope. Seeing her mother exert herself for the first time, Viyal realized that she perhaps had a sickly constitution. She needed frequent breaks to catch her breath and moved only slowly. Still, she did not once complain and persevered for the sake of learning her daughter''s fortune.


    Finally, they reached the temple entrance when the shadows grew long. It was a gigantic arch with no doors, seemingly open to anybody. However, in alcoves on either side sat two towering guards carrying thick staves. They were bulging with muscles that could be seen even through the white hair covering their bare upper bodies. Their smooth curved horns and elongated faces gave them a resemblance to humanoid bulls.


    They stared at the Mosyvvi family and snorted loudly. Viyal feared these massive guards would bar their way, but they did not move. Amiro nodded silently, took Nayavi''s hand, and guided her into the temple grounds. Perhaps that reaction from the minotaurs was a signal for them to pass.


    A few monks in gray robes swept the path with wicker brooms but stopped to bow when the Mosyvvi approached. A high-pitched bell rang out across the temple, announcing their arrival. When its echo faded, a rotund man in black robes emerged from the main building and greeted them with a nod. He had the nose of a pig and a pair of tusks growing from his broad mouth. A silvery white goatee and bushy eyebrows that nearly covered his beady black eyes marked him as elderly.


    "The Akhma Merkheleh already awaits you. Follow me," he grunted quietly to not disturb the holy silence of the temple. Viyal looked at her parents and found surprise on their faces, which quickly changed to understanding. The Elder of the Mountain had foreseen their arrival.


    The elderly monk guided the Mosyvvi into the main hall, which was carved directly from the mountain. The ceiling was steeped in darkness, too high for the candles surrounding the massive pillars to illuminate. Countless monks sat on the ground facing away from the interior, meditating while muttering something as if in a trance. These were perhaps shamans in training.


    At the end of the hall was a slightly elevated stone platform before a gigantic relief of intricate geometric patterns. It was arranged radially around a small hooded figure sitting on a simple fallen log, just like the first Akhma Merkheleh Valoro. As Amiro kneeled at the bottom of the platform with Viyal on his arm, she could see the face under the hood. It was distinctly lizard-like, with iridescent scales and piercing yellow eyes.


    "Welcome, Viyal of the Zakhira," spoke the Akhma Merkheleh in a youthful boy''s voice. He raised his clawed hands and brushed back his hood to reveal a spike-covered head. Despite looking clearly inhuman, she could tell he was still a child. A blue forked tongue flicked from his thin lips to taste the air. "I have awaited your arrival, soul from another world."

 Chapter 4 - Elder of the Mountain

    Shizuru froze. She stared at the Akhma Merkheleh wide-eyed and forgot to breathe. The lizard-like child''s eyes seemed to glow in the twilight of the temple, fixated on her as if seeing into her very soul. With the radial pattern on the wall coming to a point behind his head, he looked like a deity staring down a mere insect.


    The silence was oppressive. Neither Amiro nor Nayavi spoke, waiting for the Elder of the Mountain to continue. Viyal could not show any reaction to his words since it would confirm that she understood their meaning despite being only a toddler. Thus, time seemed to stop in this most sacred place. The only one who could break the spell was the Akhma Merkheleh.


    "Bring her to me, Amiro of the Zakhira," the boy ordered. Viyal looked up at her father, who seemed surprised by the order. But his expression settled into silent determination, and he stepped forward. She stared at him, then her mother, who only watched calmly. Their trust in this representative of their god was so unshakable that they would hand him their daughter without question. "There is no need to be afraid."


    Viyal turned to the lizard boy, whose expression was inscrutable. He had no eyebrows, and his broad mouth did not emote like most other humanoid beings she saw in this world. His yellow eyes would always look like a predator''s, regardless of his intentions. It made it difficult for her to trust him.


    The Elder of the Mountain gestured for Amiro to place Viyal before him. Then, he waved him back to take his position by his wife''s side, almost like his presence was an afterthought. Such was the sway he held over a tribal chief who commanded hundreds that he could treat her father like a mere servant.


    "I see that you do not approve of my treatment of your family," the boy stated, opening his mouth to show off his sharp teeth. Perhaps that was his species'' version of a smile, though it did not extend to his eyes. Viyal was frozen under his gaze like a rat caught in a snake''s glare. "You must come from a world quite unlike this one."


    How did he know she was a reincarnated being? Did he truly have divine powers? Could the voice that gave her this second chance at life have been Azakhal? These and more questions swirled inside Shizuru''s mind, but Viyal dared not move a single muscle and simply stared at the Akhma Merkheleh.


    He raised a hand, and a monk waiting on the sidelines approached, carrying a polished circular mirror. It was the first mirror Viyal had seen in this world. Since the steppe tribes did not have metallurgy, they only had access to such objects through trade. Only wealthy high chiefs of tribal confederations would accept such an expense for a luxury that only satisfied one''s vanity.


    The monk placed the mirror before Viyal, and she beheld her new form for the first time. Now she understood what Uncle Gavro meant when he called her ''too white'' on their first meeting. Although her gray skin was only slightly lighter than her mother''s, her still short hair was white as snow. And while her father had blue and her mother green eyes, Viyal''s were as red as blood. She was an albino.


    "Your parents brought you here because your Takheleh could not pierce the mist of time obscuring your future," the boy announced as if to everybody in the main hall, causing Viyal to look up from the mirror and stare at him. He closed his eyes for the first time and sighed wryly. "How could she have. Your potential was far beyond her understanding."


    Viyal heard her mother gasp at those words but did not dare look away from the lizard boy to see what her reaction meant. Whether the potential the Akhma Merkheleh spoke of was a positive or negative thing remained to be seen.


    The boy placed his left wrist on his left knee with the palm pointing up and extended his right hand expectantly. Four monks carrying incense bowls with lit sticks silently approached from the sides and placed them on the corners of the platform before retreating back into the darkness.


    A young Shangra nun approached, swaying under the weight of a bronze basin filled with water. She stepped onto the platform and placed it under the elder''s left hand. Another young nun from a species Viyal had never seen before brought a severed branch with long, narrow green leaves and placed it in the elder''s extended right hand. They, too, retreated swiftly and silently.


    The Akhma Merkheleh shook the branch once, causing it to rustle audibly. The high-pitched prayer bell rang out in response, echoing through the hall. He repeated it twice, causing the lingering sounds of the separate bells to harmonize into a singular echo that filled the otherwise silent space.


    The boy swayed slightly, and his blue tongue flicked from his thin lips a few times. He turned over his empty left hand, but the water in the bowl splashed as if something heavy had been dropped into it. Upon hearing the sound, he opened his eyes. The relief behind him lit up with divine light and seemed to shine right through his head. If his eyes appeared to be glowing before, they were radiant like the midday sun now. He grew larger in Viyal''s vision, filling out her entire world.


    "Omen Child!" he declared, his voice deeper and louder than his slender body could have ever produced. It was as if Azakhal spoke through him. "The girl shall die before the thirteenth day of her birth or live to conquer the world!"


    This time, both Amiro and Nayavi gasped. The Akhma Merkheleh closed his eyes, and the relief behind him grew dark again. As if the divine energy fading from his body took a toll, he slumped his shoulders. He deliberately breathed in and out a few times to regain his composure. Then he raised a hand toward Viyal, and she flinched.


    The boy''s thin lips parted into another sharp-toothed smile, and he pointed down at the mirror between them. Viyal looked at her reflection and beheld something that had not been there before. Five cross-shaped wounds had opened on her forehead without her noticing, taking on the appearance of a diadem.


    She raised a hand toward them but dared not touch the raw-looking wounds, although they did not bleed. They did not even hurt. A moment later, they began to close before her eyes and faded to a barely noticeable darker pattern on her skin.


    "The mark of the Omen Child," whispered the Akhma Merkheleh, barely loud enough for Viyal to hear. He leaned closer and touched her forehead gently. "Remember, soul from another world. A prophecy only has as much weight as you afford it. It is your life, in the end."


    With this, the divination was complete. The lizard boy leaned back and peered down at Viyal''s parents with a look that suggested they could leave now. He stared at the little girl''s mark as Amiro picked her up and returned to his wife''s side.


    "We thank Azakhal for the revelation," he bowed again with Viyal in his arms before retreating with Nayavi by his side. The high-pitched bell rang out one last time as the Mosyvvi family walked down the main hall. All the while, Viyal could not tear her gaze from the Akhma Merkheleh even as he covered his face with his hood and started to meditate.Stolen novel; please report.


    He knew she was a reincarnated soul from another world. With such divine insight, she could only believe that his prophecy would come true. Yet, his parting words suggested that things were not set in stone. It was up to her to live in a way that could lead her down the foretold path. Or perhaps she could choose a different path altogether.


    Die before she saw her thirteenth birthday or conquer the world. It was not even a question. Shizuru had been born a chosen one in her previous life. Now, she was a chosen one in this new life. What else could she do but fulfill her destiny and live to rule this world? She would be betraying herself if she did not aim for the top.


    As Amiro carried her out of the temple gate and onto the winding path outside, he wore a broad grin. His was the expression of a proud parent itching to announce his daughter''s greatness to the rest of the tribe. However, Nayavi''s face was clouded with worry. She suddenly stopped and pulled on her husband''s sleeve.


    "What is it?" he inquired with a smile. It seemed nothing could dim his excitement.


    "We have to keep it secret," Nayavi declared. Viyal had never seen her wearing a severe expression like this before.


    "What are you saying?" Amiro seemed genuinely confused by his wife''s attitude. "Our daughter is the Omen Child! The forespoken conqueror under Azakhal!"


    "No, our daughter will be dead before the seasons change," she put a hand on her husband''s arm holding Viyal and stared up into his eyes. He sniffed in disdain, ready to make a sarcastic remark. But then, he realized that his wife spoke the truth.


    The Zakhira tribe was strong, but it was still only a tribe of the steppe. Even if the prophecy did not include the part about Viyal possibly dying before she saw thirteen thawing seasons, other tribes would come to kill her to prevent her ascension. The repeated battles would grind the Zakhira down until nobody was left to protect her while she was still a child.


    "You are right," Amiro finally admitted, peering down at the city below them. Snuffing out a prophecy of such magnitude could motivate even those who were not violent to take rash actions. Slaying the Omen Child surely brought fame and glory. Having to fear death every day was no life for a child.


    "We have to keep it secret," repeated Nayavi, wearing a difficult expression.


    "What do we say then? The prophecy needs to be worthy of this visit to the Akhma Merkheleh," Amiro scratched his chin thoughtfully.


    Viyal looked between her parents silently. She had not even considered the possibility her mother thought of so readily. Despite knowing that this world was a harsh place, she felt shielded from it all because of her tribe''s martial prowess. Like in her previous life, she had thought herself untouchable.


    Her parents discussed possible alternatives they could tell their tribe on the way down the path. Amiro seemed reluctant to lie to his people. Still, rumors would spread even if he ordered them never to reveal it to outsiders. A thoughtless conversation overheard by traders, drunken bragging when they made camp with another tribe, possibly even a traitor among their ranks. It was best that the number of people who knew remained as low as possible.


    Viyal caught herself worrying about the knowledge getting out from the Temple of Time itself. Yet, her parents did not mention that possibility. Perhaps they believed that the Akhma Merkheleh and his followers would not reveal it to anybody.


    Ultimately, they settled on a completely different prophecy. Instead of conquering the world, Viyal would slay the Girgasatso of the Wastes on her thirteenth birthday. She did not know what that meant but assumed it was a mythical beast known to all steppe folk. It did not sit well with Amiro to falsify the Akhma Merkheleh''s divination, but he would accept even the wrath of Azakhal to protect his daughter.


    Once again, Viyal understood how loved she was. Her parents were evidently strong adherents of their religion, but they were willing to put their beliefs aside for her sake. She watched her father''s expressions as he practiced in a whisper to make the delivery of this new prophecy sound as natural as possible. Her mother walked behind them, remaining silent the whole way down the mountain.


    The last light of the sun was already fading when they reunited with the others of their tribe in one of the guest houses in the city. They awaited their chief''s grand announcement since they had judged from his expression that he had good news. Especially Noro and Saro were looking forward to learning the greatness their sister was destined for.


    Amiro glanced at his wife, who returned it without changing her expression. Then, he picked up Viyal and raised her above the gathered, reciting the prophecy they had prepared. She was no longer the Omen Child but a promised hero of the steppe, and there was no mention of her dying before fulfilling her destiny.


    The following celebration passed in a blur for Viyal. She remembered the tribesmen who came with them congratulating her and showering her with praises. Even Yunil seemed to have understood the importance of her prophecy and declared that she would follow her wherever she went. Then, food was passed around, and Viyal received a large helping, which she gulped down without even remembering what it was.


    Only when she was finally in a bed with Yunil did she snap out of her trance, and wild thoughts flooded her mind. Clearly, the people in this world, or at least those of the steppe and the mountains, believed in the soothsayers'' prophecies. But she had unmistakable proof of the Akhma Merkheleh''s validity.


    She could only hope she would be safe with her parents'' lie. As a weak child now, her grand destiny could be easily snuffed out. Her mother was wise to bring it up with her father. Viyal would likely never have had another wink of peaceful sleep out of fear of being targeted at her weakest.


    Her imagination ran away with her anxieties about the future and conjured scenarios of doom. It took only one of the monks gossiping to spread the rumors across the steppe. Then, the tribes opposed to the Zakhira would keep coming after her, either to kill or control her.


    As she imagined assassins in the dark, her body shook inadvertently. Yunil woke up from the motion and noticed Viyal''s condition. The little Nokkoy hugged her tightly and rubbed their cheeks together. It snapped Viyal out of her mental spiral, and she calmed down.


    "No fear," Yunil whispered in the darkness. "I''m here."


    Viyal reciprocated the embrace and sighed. She was being too fearful. Her parents had tided over the situation, and she had to trust that this was the end of it. There would have been no meaning in their lie under Azakhal''s gaze here in his lands if she remained too afraid to sleep anyway.


    She squeezed Yunil and nuzzled against her cheek as she slowly slipped away into slumber.


    Their journey back to the tribe waiting outside the mountain range was uneventful and swift. When they descended the slope toward the rocky landscape that led back to the steppe, they saw the Zakhira tribe''s tent village in the distance. It looked the same as it had when they left, and a commotion broke out in their midst when they noticed the return of their chief and his family.


    Viyal found that her mother seemed to be worrying about something again as they reached the edge of the camp. Gavro and Zalavi came out to greet them ahead of the others, and she understood the reason for her unease. Would they tell them the truth about Viyal''s prophecy? They had not told Noro and Saro since they were still young and likely could not keep a secret, but these two were adults and their twins.


    Amiro picked Viyal up from the cart and carried her at the front of the procession toward the camp''s center. Everybody stared at them expectantly, especially since Amiro wore his practiced proud expression. He would announce his daughter''s prophecy before the whole tribe.


    When he finished his speech, and the crowd cheered, Viyal felt like an accomplice to a crime. She saw Gavro''s and Zalavi''s wondrous expressions, and her chest tightened. Her uncle took her from Amiro''s hands and raised her high above the heads of the other tribespeople to pronounce her greatness. He was genuinely proud of his niece, unaware it was all a lie.


    But she had to make peace with it. If her parents had shared the real contents of her prophecy, the tribe would have celebrated all the same. Their lie was not to hide something evil but to protect the tribe. Not revealing the truth would bring no harm, only avert it.


    Thus, she pushed away her inhibitions and let herself be praised by her tribespeople like a child her age should. Things would work out one way or another, no matter what she thought. She could only believe so for now.

 Chapter 5 - The Family Grows

    The bowstring snapped against the Shinoon leather bracer with an audible noise, and Viyal flinched. The arrow missed the target by a mile and disappeared into the tall grass. She turned toward her instructor gingerly, who only shook her head disapprovingly.


    "You are too afraid of the string," said Soroca, the Zakhira tribe''s archery instructor. She was a stern Bavadi with a scar across her right cheek and a split pointy ear. Both wounds likely had been inflicted by the same attack, perhaps an enemy arrow. "The bracer will protect your arm."


    Viyal nocked another arrow and pulled back the bowstring with her thumb ring. Although the practice bow''s draw weight was low, her arm quivered under the exertion. When she finally reached the full draw, she could not even think about aiming and let the string slip. It snapped against her bracer again, and the arrow veered off course.


    "I think she may still be too young for that," Noro commented from the sidelines.


    "Then again, we already hit the center consistently at her age," added Saro beside him with a grin.


    Viyal shot them a glare, and they laughed. The twins had already surpassed Rowen''s height, but their overall appearances were not fully developed enough to be considered adults. For one, they had yet to grow beards, and their hair was still less dense than their father''s, making for pitiful manes. Another indicator was their lack of muscular definition, which seemed to come naturally to adult male Mosyvvi.


    Judging by Nayavi and Zalavi''s appearances, Viyal could consider herself lucky if she grew to the same height as she had in her former life. Female Mosyvvi were nearly two heads shorter than their male counterparts, after all. Even Bavadi women outgrew them by a few inches.


    Three years had passed since her destiny was revealed. The Zakhira tribe fought plenty of bandits and enemy tribes in that time, but the truth about her prophecy never came to light. By now, Viyal rarely thought about it anymore and enjoyed her life among the tribe. Her father suggested that she take up the bow and practice with the spear to prepare for her great future. Only he knew whether that was for her fake prophecy or her real one.


    Shizuru had been a black belt in karate, but that had been lost with her death. Viyal''s body had no muscle memory, and she had to start from scratch. Furthermore, the existence of her scorpion tail, which needed to be taken into account when it came to balance and range of motion, complicated things.


    She wondered if martial arts even existed in this world. Several of the tribe''s species had weapons already built into their bodies. The Rausam had giant maws with sharp teeth that had even the Mosyvvi''s three rows of teeth outmatched. The Jagul had retractable claws in their fingers that could rend flesh and cut bones. They each had their own ways of fighting that others could not imitate for lack of such physical features.


    But without fail, they all learned mounted archery from the Bavadi, who were closest to humans in terms of physical appearance. What they lacked in physical features, they made up for with dexterity and ingenuity. Also, they had extremely venomous saliva that they applied to their spears and arrowheads when facing enemies of the tribe.


    "They are born!" Marala, the Bavadi midwife who had helped deliver Viyal and nearly lost a finger for her effort, called out across the camp. She exchanged a look with Soroca, then dropped her bow carelessly and ran off. Noro and Saro followed her, leaving the archery instructor smiling wryly at their backs.


    Viyal sprinted through the camp, hopping over obstacles along the way. She almost ran into Yunil as she rounded a tent and tripped over one of the Nokkoy''s big feet. Yunil reacted quickly and caught Viyal''s wrist, saving her from a painful tumble into a wooden rack for drying Shinoona bones.


    Her best friend had shot up faster than anybody could have imagined. Despite being not even four years old, she already looked almost like a teenager. Her formerly barely noticeable tail had grown into a long, bushy one that showed the emotions she hid behind an aloof fa?ade. Viyal''s initial assessment that she resembled a dog was accurate not only in her physical appearance but also in her growth rate.


    "What''s got you running?" Yunil asked, causing the roast Shinoon shank she carried in her mouth to fall out. She casually caught it by the bone and swung it up like a club.


    "You didn''t hear?" Viyal wondered, staring at her best friend''s floppy dog ears blending in with her shaggy flaxen hair. Her hearing was the best in the entire tribe, so her missing Marala''s announcement meant she was busy with something else. Considering the Shinoon shank looked like it was not fully cooked through, she must have swiped it from a grill and been chased by the original owner. "They are born!"


    Yunil blinked in confusion. Then, realization dawned on her. Before she could say anything in response, Viyal took her by the hand and pulled her along. They soon reached a crowd surrounding a tent and murmuring curiously. Yunil used her larger frame to push past the people and open a path for Viyal. They reached the tent entrance, where Rowen greeted them.


    "There you are. Go in." The old knight nodded and stepped aside. He appeared to be guarding the entrance from the overly curious people who wanted to peek inside, but not one tribe member would dare to do so. After all, it was Gavro and Zalavi''s tent.


    The inside smelled of blood masked by incense. Noro and Saro were already by the crib, from which the sound of two babies cooing emerged. Amiro stood behind them, seemingly watching their actions to ensure they did not misbehave. Gavro had his back turned to hide his expression, but he was quivering with joy.


    Nayavi sat on a chair beside Zalavi, who looked tired but relieved. This was her first birth, and it came rather late compared to her sister. But Viyal learned why the two sisters seemed so different when Zalavi became pregnant. When a Mosyv woman gave birth, her body changed fundamentally, and she lost muscle mass in exchange for increased fertility. Viyal wondered about the biological justification for such a strange phenomenon, but it was an undeniable truth of her species.


    Zalavi had held out on having children so long to fight by her husband''s side, but they finally decided to produce heirs. From here on out, she would no longer follow him into battle and instead stay with Nayavi in the camp to rear her children. It had been a difficult decision for both of them, but when they saw the newborn twins, a girl and a boy, they did not feel an ounce of regret.


    Viyal peered into the crib and saw the two children already wrapped in cloth. Their eyes were open, and they followed every little movement from the people surrounding them. The boy frowned, his piercing blue glare seemingly trying to scare Noro and Saro away. Meanwhile, the girl''s green eyes were fixated on Viyal curiously.


    "Lavaro and Layavi," said Zalavi with a proud smile. Those were the names of the newest members of their family. It was rather rare for Mosyvvi twins to be of opposite genders. Destiny usually held great things in store for them. The Takheleh would come sooner rather than later to divine it for them.


    Gavro suddenly turned around with a broad grin and swept up his children from the crib. They were shaken by the sudden movements and struggled inside their cloth bundles, trying to bite whatever came close to their mouths. Viyal wondered if that was why Amiro seemed impressed when he first picked her up, and she did not struggle at all. This was the normal behavior for Mosyvvi newborns.


    "You will grow up to be great!" he raised them up high and announced while avoiding getting his fingers bitten.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    A few weeks later, the Takheleh visited Lavaro and Layavi in their birth tent. The other tribe members stood outside and awaited the pronouncement of their destinies anxiously. Given Viyal''s situation, perhaps they could also expect something special from these unusual twins.


    The Takheleh opened the door flap, expelling a wave of incense smoke from the inside. The gathered people respectfully opened a path for the elderly woman in the paper mask, and she slowly walked past them while leaning heavily on her staff. Nobody expected a word from her; the parents would make the announcement themselves.


    Gavro swept aside the tent flap with his tail and carried Lavaro and Layavi out on his arms. His was the expression of a proud father, and everybody relaxed, for they knew he had good news. Zalavi stepped out behind him with a relieved smile.


    "Layavi will weave a tapestry in honor of Azakhal that will become the steppe people''s flag for all time to come!" Gavro announced, lifting his daughter on his big palm high above the crowd. Then he raised his son with the other. "Lavaro will be a hero in the fight against the Gadat and drive them from the steppe for three generations!"


    The gathered people cheered, but Viyal raised an eyebrow at the grand prophecies. She heard from Noro and Saro about their destinies: To lead the Zakhira together and grow their numbers to become the most powerful tribe on the steppe. Her father''s prophecy was to slay a hundred enemies in his lifetime; Gavro would act as an avatar of Azakhal and spread his word farther than it had ever been. Viyal thought the Takheleh who divined their destinies might have accidentally switched them around.


    Zalavi was said to defeat the man who would go on to cherish her more than anything else in the world. Finally, Nayavi would be the mother of children who would go down in history. These two had arguably already fulfilled their prophecies if Viyal''s was to be believed.


    Judging by the latter two examples, she could only admit that they were perhaps all real. But the parting words of the Akhma Merkheleh would always ring in her mind: A prophecy only had as much weight as one afforded it. Perhaps it meant those who believed in their grand destinies would try their best to live up to them, fulfilling them in the process. And if one decided to pay it no heed, one could walk a different path in life.


    Viyal understood the irony of her disapproval. In her past life, her path to success had been set all the same. The only difference was that the likelihood of failure was far less in the modern world filled with rules and guardrails. Here, she could still die before she saw her thirteenth birthday, even when nobody knew the truth.


    The tribe started a celebration for the baby twins, who looked around in confusion at the countless gazes and voices directed at them. They were still too young to understand anything and were simply along for the ride.


    Viyal realized early on that the tribe took every opportunity to feast. It was a good way to strengthen the bonds between the various species that comprised the Zakhira tribe, which usually lived separately in their own groups. Only Mosyvvi chiefs had the power and charisma to bring different species together like this.


    Yunil took her by the hand, pulling her out of her thoughts. The young Nokkoy guided her toward Mannogur''s grill to get there before a line formed. The Rausam chief cook always made the best spicy meat skewers since he knew how to cut them for the perfect ratio of fat and lean parts. Thus, the demand was always high, and the best parts were often gone quickly.


    Unfortunately, a small group of tribesmen had the same idea. At the forefront were Noro and Saro, who pestered Mannogur to give them a dozen each. When he spotted Viyal and Yunil approaching, the toad-like cook lifted several skewers from the grill and made everybody''s eyes follow them. With his other hand, like a street magician performing a vanishing trick, he picked up half a dozen of the best parts and tossed them toward the two girls in an arc.


    Yunil skillfully caught them between her fingers and turned away to hide them. Viyal nodded at Mannogur, who winked at them with a broad grin. By the time Noro, Saro, and the others looked down at the grill and noticed the missing skewers, the two girls were already out of sight.


    They walked back toward the center of the festivities, happily enjoying the spicy meat they had come to love after their initially painful experience with it. Most adults around a bonfire where they ate meat they grilled themselves, drank copious amounts of wine, and smoked pipes. It was no place for children, so she nodded for Yunil to follow her to the Shinoona pen, where they could sit and eat unbothered.


    Soroca already sat on the slope overlooking the pen, watching the surrounding lands with her sharp gaze. The tribe was camped on a small hill overlooking the plains that stretched to the horizon on all sides. Although Viyal had seen such a sight many times over the years, it was still humbling. Their entire tribe was but a small speck in this vast ocean of green, a tiny flicker of civilization as far as the eyes could see.


    "Young lady," Soroca greeted Viyal, then nodded at Yunil silently. Although everybody knew the Nokkoy was her best friend, they still could not treat her with the same level of respect as the chief''s daughter. But in this case, Soroca showed personal bias since Yunil refused to learn archery and turned up her button nose at it to boot.


    Yunil once showed the instructor up by casually catching one of her arrows in one hand while rushing past the target with a stolen piece of meat in her mouth. She then announced that archery was useless if one could so easily catch the projectiles. Despite still being a child, the young Nokkoy showed why the trader who sold her called her species good fighters. Viyal wondered if he had merely tried to butter up her father by saying the Nokkoy were not as strong as Mosyvvi.


    Viyal wordlessly offered Soroca one of the skewers, but she declined. She could not handle spicy food but did not want her pupil to know. It would hurt her image as a stoic and battle-hardened warrior and instructor of the tribe.


    The two children sat down in the grass beside the pen and ate their meal silently while looking out across the plains. Yunil was usually a hyperactive tomboy, but she could calm down and appreciate a slow moment with Viyal. Although their growth rates were different, they would always be sisters.


    Soroca suddenly perked up and stared into the distance. Viyal noticed it and followed her gaze to see a large dust cloud being kicked up over the horizon. It did not look like whatever caused it was approaching them, but Soroca decided to alert the tribe nonetheless. As she ran off wordlessly, Yunil exchanged a look with Viyal, who pointed at the phenomenon. When she saw it, she put her ear to the ground.


    "Lots of hooves," she commented after a moment. "Light, no riders."


    "You can hear that from so far away?" Viyal was surprised by the Nokkoy''s incredible hearing. She knew it was sharp, but not at such a level.


    "If the tribe didn''t dance and stomp so close by, I could maybe tell how many there are. But at least three hundred, I think," Yunil responded proudly. Viyal furrowed her brow; was that a purely biological ability or something supernatural?


    Soroca soon returned with several other tribesmen in tow. Among them were Amiro and Gavro, who towered over the others and could see farther than anybody. They shielded their eyes and stared into the distance for a while. Then, their expressions lit up with joy.


    "Today is a good day, Brother!" Gavro exclaimed and clapped his hands together in a thunderous crack.


    "Mount up! We double our Shinoona herd today!" announced Amiro in an excited roar that echoed across the camp. Many of the warriors ran to their tents to pick up their equipment while others readied the mounts. The entire tribe was in an uproar.


    Viyal spotted her brothers among them, excited for their first Shinoona herding. The steppes were so extensive that one rarely ran across a wild herd. They had hunted plenty of game and fought off bandits in the past few years, but this was something special even for the steppe tribes.


    As the tribesmen dispersed, only Rowen was left behind. He stepped up to Viyal and Yunil, showing no hint of calling his headless mount. When he noticed the two girls'' questioning gazes, he looked into the distance and explained, "My buddy is too slow to keep up with the Shinoona."


    Of course, a mount in plate barding with a fully armored knight on its back could not hope to match the fleet-footed Shinoona carrying light riders. Viyal still did not understand why Rowen always wore his armor, even at celebrations, but perhaps it was related to his species. He was clearly not a human, after all.


    Yunil watched the tribesmen heading out restlessly. Her tail stood up and swished back and forth slowly, showing that her tension was pulled taut and ready for release. She glanced at Viyal as if asking for permission. But she knew she could not get it.


    "Not yet," Viyal put a hand on Yunil''s arm, and her tail stopped before drooping like a deflated balloon. The Nokkoy had yet to learn how to ride a Shinoon, but according to the trader who sold her to them, her tribe kept no mounts and ran on their own two legs. Perhaps she could match the riders'' speed and hunt alongside them once she was fully grown.


    Viyal watched her people split into three groups as they rode across the plains. They used whistles and hand signs to communicate, moving like the wind to catch up to the wild Shinoona herd. Although they had drunk much wine in celebration, riding came to them like second nature. They would not fail.


    She only had to wait another year to join them. Thinking about the fast-approaching milestones of a child of the steppe, she grew giddy. Yunil''s floppy ears twitched, and she tilted her head at her questioningly. Did the Nokkoy hear her heartbeat quicken? Viyal shook her head with a wry smile, then leaned against her shoulder and sighed contentedly.

 Chapter 6 - A Foreigner on the Plains

    The seasons changed, and the steppes thawed once more. Spring broke through the last remnants of snow with countless colorful flowers sprouting on the plains. The landscape was a sea of colors, the constant breeze generated rolling waves across the hills, and a floral scent pervaded the air. Rodent-like animals that hibernated in their deep burrows reared their heads, looking for food and mates.


    Yunil lunged down the hill and snatched one such rodent in her hands. It struggled in her grasp, but she delivered a quick bite to its neck, crushing its spine. Then, she tied it to her belt next to the other three already dangling from it. Sniffing the air, the Nokkoy searched for her next prey.


    Viyal watched from a distance atop her Shinoon, shielding her eyes from the still low-hanging sun. Yunil showed unmatched energy throughout the journey despite walking on her own two feet. Meanwhile, Viyal was easily irritable and tired from adjusting to her mount''s constant swaying.


    She looked toward the front of their column, where Amiro stared at Yunil with great interest. Nobody could have foreseen that the little baby Viyal demanded to buy from a trader, seemingly on a whim when she could not even speak, would grow into such a skilled hunter. She put even the Jagul to shame with her barehanded hunting prowess.


    Behind him, Noro and Saro sparred with wooden sticks atop their Shinoona. They had finally started to grow fuzz around their lips. Their energy was similarly limitless as Yunil''s, as their bodies began to bulk up naturally. Rather than pay attention to others'' growth, they cared more about their own.


    Rowen came right after, seemingly asleep in his saddle. Viyal had not once seen him sleep in the camp, but he appeared quite relaxed when riding. Still, she had yet to witness where his title of a mighty warrior from a foreign land that her mother introduced him as came from. Whenever bandits or an enemy tribe attacked, he would remain in the camp instead of riding out to meet them like the others since he could not catch up to them on his heavy mount.


    As the procession of sixty riders continued ahead of Yunil, Viyal glanced back to look for her among the hills. The Nokkoy would catch up to them in no time, so the tribesmen did not feel the need to call for her. She always shared her quarry with Viyal first, but leftovers were distributed to the rest of the party. They had a selfish interest in letting her continue so they could have fresh meat for dinner.


    It had been a little over a year since the day the prophecies of Lavaro and Layavi were revealed. The twins grew steadily, as did the tribe. After almost doubling the size of their Shinoona herd, the Zakhira gained an influx of new members who heard of their amazing wealth. Many were disgruntled people who left their tribes, survivors of those destroyed by raiders, and some lone travelers.


    Among them were families who spoke of a great war coming for the Sunrise Lowlands. The Omagala Empire in the southeast had settled their internal strife and turned their gaze outward now. They were looking to punish the steppe tribes who raided their border towns and to expand their reach. If left alone, the Gadat threat could affect the entire steppe.


    That was the reason for this journey separating them from the rest of the tribe. Amiro decided to learn more about the coming war personally and left the tribe with Gavro. Viyal convinced him to take her along through much foot-stomping, pouting, and unrelenting glares. It was her first chance to finally see the world beyond the seasonal grazing route the tribe took, and she would not miss it for anything.


    A whistle pulled Viyal from her thoughts, and she looked ahead. The scout traveling a few kilometers ahead returned, waving a black cloth. It was the signal that a tribe was being raided by bandits ahead of them. The Bavadi man met up with Amiro soon after to report the situation, and Viyal rode to the front to listen in.


    "It''s a small tribe with many Tulana," the scout explained. "They''re close to being overrun."


    "How many raiders?" Amiro asked, scratching his chin thoughtfully. Their detachment wanted to avoid fighting, but Tulana were a peace-loving species of humanoid rabbits, so perhaps there were not too many bandits.


    "I counted twenty-two mounted archers. Some are armed with Gadat weapons," replied the scout, but he wore a difficult expression.


    "Out with it," demanded the chief.


    "They are led by Mosyvvi twins."


    Amiro''s eyes widened, and his mane puffed up in anger. Noro and Saro felt a shiver of anticipation run down their spines at the sight of their father''s sudden change. He turned to his tribesmen and raised his spear with a mighty bellow, "Azakhal demands justice!"


    Everybody responded with a war cry and readied their weapons. Not one person questioned the chief''s decision to get involved in an unrelated struggle, potentially putting them all in danger. They knew the reason for his wrath, and he would not rest until it was stilled with the blood of this enemy.


    Mosyvvi were meant to be exemplars of Azakhal''s virtues. Those who abused their divine might and resorted to banditry were no better than beasts. Their kind was exceedingly rare since male Mosyvvi twins usually took over other tribes through honorable duels with their chiefs. Only the weakest or morally corrupt ones would gather the scum of the steppe around themselves to raid and pillage.


    Amiro had half their party remain at a safe distance and guard their trade goods while he led the warriors, including Noro and Saro, to fight the bandits. Viyal and Yunil were ordered to stay behind with Rowen, but they were too curious to sit still and rode after them once they disappeared over the next hill. The old knight was too slow to stop them from leaving and could only call out to them impotently.


    The two girls saw smoke rise over a distant hill and knew the Tulana''s camp was on fire. If it got to that point, it usually meant the defenders who rode out to meet the enemies were all dead, and the pillaging had begun. As if driven by a mad urge for destruction, bandits would always smash or burn what they could not take with them.


    When Viyal and Yunil reached the top of the hill, they saw Amiro and the Zakhira warriors loose a hail of arrows at the raiders attacking the outer ring of the burning camp. His roar reached her ears even this far away, and his sons echoed it. It surely instilled terror in the bandits.


    She then spotted the Mosyvvi twins leading the enemies. They looked smaller than even the yet-to-be fully-grown Noro and Saro, but their manes were thick and dark like Amiro''s. That marked them as adults. To most other species on the steppe, they would still be imposing, but they could only be considered runts among their own. Perhaps that was why they resorted to attacking those much weaker than themselves.


    The enemy twins shot arrows at Amiro as he approached, but he almost casually deflected them with his spear. They recognized a stronger Mosyv when they saw one and turned their Shinoona around to keep him at a distance. However, Noro and Saro shot their mounts in the hindquarters with such accuracy that it would make Soroca proud. It slowed them sufficiently for Amiro to catch up.


    Knowing they would be unable to escape, they turned to fight. Viyal had to give them credit for not dismounting and begging for their lives. But perhaps they knew not to expect mercy from a fellow Mosyv after what they had done. They wagered there was a higher chance of survival by fighting him together.


    One of the twins wielded an incredibly long lance, and the other swung a steel mace. Those were the Gadat weapons the scout mentioned. That lance had a reach advantage against the much shorter cavalry spears used among the steppe tribes, including the one her father carried. The mace was better at close quarters and complemented his brother''s range.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    Viyal was surprised when Amiro threw his spear on the approach like a javelin and took the lancer clean off his mount. His longer reach was rendered utterly useless by an attack from a distance. Then she stared in disbelief as her now unarmed father jumped off his Shinoon''s back and dove onto the other bandit leader, pulling him to the ground before he could bring his mace to bear.


    They rolled in the grass, but Amiro ended up on top and began to claw and bite his fellow Mosyv until there was only a bloody mess. His downed brother got back up but was skewered by Noro and Saro''s spears. Viyal stared at her father; she had never seen him fight that recklessly and messily before.


    Amiro stood up and let out a blood-curdling roar that scattered the other raiders in all directions. Within only a few minutes of their engagement, thirteen bandits lay dead, and the others would soon be picked off by the Zakhira tribe''s mounted archers chasing them. Without wasting a moment celebrating their victory, those near the camp headed inside to help the Tulana.


    Yunil shook Viyal from her stupor at witnessing her father''s bestial rage. The Nokkoy gestured at the burning camp and spoke, "We should help."


    "You''re right," Viyal responded, squeezing her Shinoon''s flanks with her legs and driving it onward. Yunil stared at her back for a moment before following her silently on foot.


    When they approached the camp, Amiro had wiped the blood from his face and directed his warriors to help evacuate the survivors from the flames. He noticed Viyal and Yunil, and his eyebrows dropped. "I told you to stay with the others!"


    "I wanted to see how Father fought," said Viyal, not faltering under his stern gaze. Hearing this, his expression softened, and he sighed. Then he smiled wryly.


    "Well, are you impressed?" Amiro puffed up his chest in feigned haughtiness. He was not worried about being seen fighting like a beast but only about her safety. Now that the situation was under control, he could even crack a joke.


    "Yes, Father did great! Truly a paragon of might! The greatest warrior of the steppe!" Viyal piled on the exaggerated praise and watched him deflate. Only with his family did he show this silly side of his.


    The burning tent next to them was suddenly cut open from the inside, and a small figure leaped through the flames toward the towering Mosyv. "Monster!" It screamed.


    Yunil reacted faster than anybody and tackled the figure, knocking it to the ground. It spun around itself in a whirlwind of three blades, slashing the Nokkoy''s hand and forearm. Luckily, she barely jumped back in time, sustaining only shallow cuts.


    It was a monkey-like boy, wielding short curved swords in each hand and one with his prehensile tail. His clothes looked different from those of any steppe person. Amiro recognized them as the traditional garb of the Omagala Empire''s people. This was a Samagshin, a member of the empire''s majority species.


    "Qua," the boy spat and glanced around, realizing his position. There was no way out of here for him.


    "What is a Gadat doing here? Are you with the bandits?" Amiro inquired with a growl. He towered at nearly twice the monkey boy''s height and had arms as thick as his torso. Even those curved swords would do him no good against an adult Mosyv, and he knew it.


    "Please cease this, Tashi! These are our saviors," a female Tulan came out of the hole in the burning tent that the Samagshin made.


    "It''s a Mosh! One of the bandit leaders!" the boy named Tashi argued with a thick accent, pointing one blade at Amiro.


    Yunil suddenly lunged at him to pin him down, but he reacted faster than she thought and swung the three blades at her from three different angles. She barely stopped her forward momentum in time and hopped back to avoid being cut again. Not even Noro and Saro had the reflexes to stop Yunil when she jumped on them from a resting position during training.


    Viyal stepped forward and grabbed her arm. The Nokkoy spun her head around, baring her teeth out of instinct. But when she saw her sister, she calmed down and lowered her gaze in shame at being unable to control herself.


    "They came to help us," argued the female Tulan.


    "Is this not the Mosh that led the attack?" Tashi wondered in bewilderment. It would appear he could not differentiate between Mosyvvi, perhaps because he was a foreigner.


    "The ones you mean are dead over there," Yunil barked and pointed at the hill where their bodies lay. The Samagshin boy stared at her suspiciously, then shot a glance where she indicated.


    Viyal thought it was too fast for him to see anything, but it would appear that the split-second look was enough for him to capture the full picture. He sheathed his weapons skillfully in the three scabbards on his belt and fell onto his knees. "I apologize for attacking you."


    Amiro stared down at the monkey boy before turning away silently. The boy looked up in confusion but realized that he had been forgiven. He stood up slowly and hung his head.


    "What is a Gadat doing with a steppe tribe?" Viyal walked past Yunil and inquired.


    "Not now. I need to help my people," Tashi said, waving her off. Viyal did not take offense at that and glanced at the female Tulan. She understood there were likely complicated circumstances leading to him calling this tribe his people despite being a foreigner in these lands. "Wait..."


    Viyal turned back to look at the monkey boy and found him staring at her blankly. She raised an eyebrow, then glanced at the Tulan, who seemed equally surprised. Something seemed to click in his mind, and he fell onto one knee.


    "Skin like the finest porcelain. Hair like a ray of moonlight peeking through the clouds. Eyes like the purest Kuliab. You are the most beautiful flower of the plains I have ever had the honor to lay my eyes upon. May I ask for your hand, my lady?" Tashi extended a palm toward Viyal with a charming smile.


    Yunil stepped between them and glowered at the boy. He returned the glare without a hint of fear of the taller girl since he was confident he could handle her. But he noticed movement behind them and quickly rolled back as Amiro''s claw cut through where his head was a split second ago.


    "So you were an enemy after all?!" Tashi drew his weapons and prepared to fight.


    "Do not approach my daughter!" The chief stood to cover Viyal and bared his teeth at the Samagshin.


    "Daughter? Liar! How could a beast like you father such a living work of art?" He dug himself deeper into the hole of his own making.


    "Father, I believe this boy is simply an idiot," Viyal grabbed Amiro''s little finger with her tiny hand and declared. His daughter''s touch calmed him down immediately, and he snorted at Tashi in disdain. "He is a Gadat. He knows not the people of the steppes. And he knows not that I am still a child."


    The monkey boy''s jaw dropped when she spoke. Despite not opening her mouth too far, her three rows of teeth were inadvertently revealed to his sharp eyes. He had mistaken her for another species due to her unusual hair and eye color. But Viyal could practically see the gears turning in his head and compute a decision.


    "Father!" He fell onto both his knees and knocked his head on the ground. "I ask for your daughter''s hand. I shall wait for her to reach adulthood, no matter how long it may take."


    "Who are you calling-" Amiro flared up, but Viyal squeezed his finger.


    "Is now the time for such foolishness? Go help your tribe," she ordered Tashi in a cold tone. The boy shot up in shock and looked at the burning camp. Although the Zakhira had already evacuated the survivors, they needed treatment and at least the comforting words of one of their own.


    "You are right," he lowered his head to Viyal in shame and admitted. "I lost sight of the more pressing matter over your charm. I have much to learn yet."


    She watched him walk away with a dubious look. The monkey boy was rash and impudent, but his heart was in the right place. Although she had no intentions of humoring his hasty proposal, she was quite interested in his story. Then she glanced at Yunil as she licked the cuts he had inflicted on her. His martial prowess was something special, too. He could not have learned it from the pacifist Tulana, so he must have been trained in the empire.


    "Let''s get you treated," Viyal took Yunil''s hand and pulled her along. She frequently got cuts and bruises from running around in the field and catching small animals. Viyal would always have to force healing salves on her since she hated the smell, but she was surprisingly obedient this time.


    As they headed toward their tribesmen gathering a distance away from the camp, Viyal glanced back at the monkey boy and found him caring for the survivors of the raid. He never once peeked in her direction and concentrated on the task before him. She smiled at his diligence; it seemed he was quite the upstanding soul.


    "You are not considering it, are you?" Amiro''s doubtful voice startled her.


    "Never, Father," she looked up at him with an expression of disgust. "But I am interested in his strength."


    "I hear the Gadat practice all kinds of martial skills. That one is the first Samagshin I have ever seen at that level, though," he responded with a thoughtful glance at Tashi. "And he is still young."


    "Hah, he is nothing compared to the might of us Mosyvvi," Noro joined them and declared.


    "I''d like to try sparring with him, though," Saro added, scratching his chin through the thin beard growing from it.


    "We will take their tribe with us, so perhaps you will have your chance," said Amiro, looking at the destroyed camp. He had planned to travel lightly and swiftly, but he could not leave the survivors to fend for themselves.


    Viyal considered that this was perhaps another manifestation of her prophecy. Fate brought her together with a skillful fighter who impressed even her father, the most powerful warrior she knew. Maybe he would become her ally and help her on the path to conquering the world.


    She chuckled at that outlandish thought she would have never even conceived in her previous life. Despite this world being more savage and cruel, she considered that she enjoyed this second chance more than her first. After all, every day could hold a new adventure in store for her.

 Chapter 7 – The Capital of Nomads

    A month after rescuing the Tulana of the Chotul tribe, the procession crossed a hill and beheld their destination: The only permanent settlement of the steppe tribes, Kudaldan. Thousands of tents were nestled at the western bank of the Avarkhal, the largest river on the steppes. Caravans entered the haphazardly arranged town from all sides, but there were no clear roads. It was more of a tribal meeting of unparalleled numbers than a city.


    Since the steppe tribes had no agriculture, the mostly temporary inhabitants consisted of traders peddling wares from every corner of the known world and prospective buyers. The population was in constant flux, but the settlement had remained in this one place for centuries without ever seeing permanent structures built.


    Amiro chose the nearest open patch on the outskirts of the settlement and led his people toward it. When the caravan leaders nearby saw the Mosyvvi at the front of the party, they fell in line with them. The traders hoped to catch their attention with their wares by setting up camp next to them. They knew that tribes led by Mosyvvi were usually quite wealthy.


    The remnants of the Chotul tribe had expressed their desire to join the Zakhira, so they remained with their saviors. They would return with Amiro''s party once their business in Kudaldan was done. In their gratitude, they worked hard to help set up the camp, starting with the Zahkira''s tents first.


    When the chief''s tent was finished, Viyal followed her father and brothers inside to prepare for their grand debut in Kudaldan. They were brought freezing cold water drawn from the Avarkhal River and got undressed promptly to wipe off the sweat and dirt from their long journey.


    She had no apprehensions at being nude in front of her family since she had grown used to her people''s customs. Nudity was quite common among the tribe, not just when bathing. Some would exit their tents butt-naked in the morning to stretch. Others would undress on the spot whenever they crossed a river to catch some fish.


    Yunil used a wet cloth to wipe Viyal''s back and sniffed her cautiously to find the dirtiest spots. The Nokkoy''s breath tickled, and she turned around to bop her nose, "Stop that. It doesn''t have to be that thorough."


    She did not even try to stay as clean as she was used to in her previous life. Shizuru would not have accepted such a lifestyle before, but she was quick to adapt to her new reality. The steppe did not have water everywhere, so they sometimes went a week or longer without enough to bathe in. It was reserved for cooking and drinking most of the time.


    "You still stink," Yunil declared in a pouty tone, and Viyal stared at her button nose.


    "Your nose is too good. The people here won''t notice," she said with a frown.


    "If I can notice it, others will, too," the Nokkoy maintained her position.


    "Look, they aren''t cleaning up as much." Viyal pointed at her father and brothers, who were wiping themselves dry already.


    "Men can have a strong smell," Yunil argued with a snort. Was it normal for her species, or had somebody taught her this?


    "Listen to her, sister," Noro said, pulling up his fine wool pants.


    "Nobody likes a stinky girl," Saro added, doing the same.


    "So it was you two!" Viyal motioned to toss her wet cloth at them, and they ducked with playful laughter. She lowered it again and began to begrudgingly scrub herself more thoroughly.


    They were right. They had come to Kudaldan to meet with other tribal chiefs, so they had to present themselves at their absolute best. Amiro put on his finest garb: Green silken robes he would never wear normally. Noro and Saro usually did not care about looking scruffy, but now they even combed their growing mane.


    Nayavi had prepared a silken dress with long sleeves and a skirt reaching down to her ankles for Viyal. It was dark purple bordering on black, featuring red and blue bands at the arm joints and elaborate flower embroidery in gold across its entire surface. Although she was far from fully grown, her parents had splurged on this outfit for this occasion. After all, it was her debut before the leaders of powerful tribes. She had to make a lasting impression now to guarantee marriage proposals in the future.


    Even Yunil was given a new outfit, although it was made from wool and far less decorated. These days, Viyal''s family treated her more as an aide and close friend than their daughter. Perhaps her different appearance after her growth spurt drove home that she was not their own child in the end.


    Once they were done, they left the tent and mounted their Shinoona to enter Kudaldan. Amiro rode at the front, followed by a small contingent of his best-dressed warriors guarding Viyal at their center, whose Shinoon was led by Yunil by the reins. She almost felt like a princess being brought to a ball.


    The Nokkoy glared at the people looking at them, snarling at those who stared for too long. Although Rowen and his headless mount were the center of attention, Viyal was a close second. An albino Mosyv drew gazes from everybody, especially one so well-dressed. They often did not bother to conceal their gawking, which incensed Yunil.


    And then there was one persistent admirer she could not get rid of; Tashi rode behind her and stared with his mouth hanging open all the way. He was so smitten by her well-groomed appearance that the rest of the world did not even enter his view, including the growling Nokkoy glaring daggers at him.


    The procession headed for the massive tent in the center of Kudaldan, Jukhmahan. It was the traditional meeting place for the tribal chiefs of the steppes. Although it stood there for decades, perhaps even a century, they still did not consider constructing a permanent building in its place. Instead, it was a patchwork of tapestries mending the damage from weathering and old age. They all showed the names or emblems of their benefactors, their way of immortalizing themselves in this otherwise transient land.


    Viyal noticed many foreigners among the traders and buyers alike. She would not dare to imply she had seen all the species the steppe tribes had to offer. Still, their clothes and appearances were different enough for her to tell them apart from her own people. Some came from the Omagala Empire despite the brewing war. Others were species with natural thick fur and towering at heights similar to Amiro.


    In her fake prophecy, she was meant to take down the Girgasatso of the Wastes when she turned thirteen. The wastes in question were the White Dunes far north of the steppes. And these large-bodied species hailed from even farther north beyond that desert. They panted with their tongues hanging out due to the milder climate here but still peddled their wares enthusiastically.


    Some called out to her directly, but she could not understand what they were saying since they spoke in their native tongue or had barely intelligible accents. Yunil realized they were targeting her sister with their hawking and barked at them like a jealous guard dog.


    Soon, they reached the open area around the central tent. Only now could Viyal appreciate its sheer size. It towered over two stories high and could surely seat several hundred people. Over a dozen warriors guarded the four entrances in the cardinal directions. Their groomed appearances and well-maintained clothes marked them as the tribesmen of the chiefs inside.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    Weapons were not allowed in the Jukhmahan, but it was only a formality since most species of the steppe had teeth and claws as effective as any blade. Those not part of the chiefs'' families could not enter, so Rowen, Yunil, and the others remained outside.


    Finally, Amiro pushed aside the tent flap with his tail and stepped inside. Noro and Saro followed, holding the door open for their little sister. The interior resembled a circus tent, with stepped stands arranged in a circle around an open space in the center. The air was filled with smoke and smelled of many different species.


    Viyal curled her nostrils and glanced around at the seated people. A heated debate was going on between a male Rausam and a female Jagul, but Amiro''s presence interrupted them. Although he was not the only Mosyv in the tent, all eyes were on his imposing figure. Only now did it become clear that he was an impressive specimen within his species. While Viyal could not tell how tall the Mosyvvi sitting in the twilight beyond the lit circle in the center were, none of their bodies looked as muscular as his. One of them was even rotund, lying on his side and smoking a pipe lazily.


    Then she recalled Gavro, who was slightly bulkier than Amiro despite being his younger twin. She inadvertently sniffed, curling up her lips into a prideful smile. As expected, she was a chosen one with a fine pedigree even in this life.


    She felt eyes on her and looked over to find countless children sitting in the darkness at the top of the stands. Among them were several Mosyvvi twins, staring at her with unabashed interest. Some were close to her age, while others approached adulthood. She would have to join them, as was the custom here.


    "Do not let my presence interrupt you," Amiro declared as he walked into the circle and found himself an empty seat to plop down in unceremoniously. The Rausam and Jagul chiefs stared at him cautiously, but they returned to their argument when he did not speak further.


    "We cannot let ourselves be drawn into wars started by raiders and bandits!" roared the Rausam man, making a sweeping gesture at the gathered people before pointing at the Jagul woman.


    Viyal listened while climbing the steps of the stand with Noro and Saro. They were not yet fully grown adults, but they would be seated closer to the center while she had to join the other children at the top.


    "You dare call us raiders and bandits?!" the Jagul chief flared up. "The Gadat come to the steppe, erect walls to cut up the land, and rip open the soil to plant things only they can eat. We fight a righteous battle against their encroachment!"


    "Don''t paint your plundering as some just cause and then come crying to us when your victims retaliate!" responded the Rausam chief with a loud snort.


    Viyal peered across the children, who seemed more interested in her than the political talk of the adults. Although Amiro likely thought differently, she was not here to make friends but to learn more about the world and the grand future that awaited her. Perhaps a potential political marriage partner was among them, but she cared little about such things right now. Thus, she sat down apart from them and willfully ignored their presence.


    "We will not let ourselves be dragged into your just punishment," another chief declared, coming to the Rausam''s aid. He was an elderly male Kandai, a species of moose-like humanoids with gigantic antlers resembling open hands. They were decorated with colorful cloth strips and crystals dangling on strings. They knocked into each other and jingled as he stood up while leaning on his sturdy wooden scepter.


    He towered over even Amiro by a good head. His eyes looked tired, but there was a fire in them yet. He regarded the Jagul chief with an expression of pity, then turned to the Rausam. "We defend ourselves when attacked, but we will not strike out and draw the flames of war into our lands."


    "That is how our people have survived every Gadat incursion," the Rausam said, nodding wisely. The other chiefs mumbled half-hearted agreement, clearly trying to avoid being pulled into the debate. The Jagul chief looked around in disbelief. They would abandon their own to the Gadat to save themselves.


    "I came to learn what ills were befalling the steppe, but all I see are shortsighted leaders too afraid to face an enemy poised to take our lands," Amiro said, shaking his head in disapproval. He remained seated, but his voice drew everybody''s gazes.


    "Who are you to speak so shortly after arrival?" the Kandai inquired calmly. Still, the indignation at being called shortsighted could be gleaned from his words, if not his tone.


    "Amiro of the Zakhira," he stood up and introduced himself. Suppressed gasps and murmurs ran through the gathered; they had clearly heard of him. Word of the Zakhira tribe''s rapid growth over the past year had spread to every corner of the steppe through the many traders that sought them out. "I have a good picture of the situation from your little spat. But this goes farther than either of you think."


    Viyal stared at Amiro''s back in skepticism. He was antagonizing everybody with his attitude, which was not a good basis for getting people to follow him. Of course, she did not know his goal, so she could only wait and see if his method was right.


    Shizuru had seen recordings of her father debating others in the National Diet. He had been firm but cordial, wore a self-assured smile, and did not offend anybody directly. With that, he had securely anchored himself in the Japanese political landscape, not standing out while holding real power. Now, she would see how her father in this life performed.


    "The Gadat were like two Yono locked in a territorial dispute. They had no eyes for the lone hunter taking their quarry," Amiro continued, glancing across the seated people listening curiously. Unlike the Rausam, Jagul, and Kandai chiefs, they seemed unbothered by his earlier jabs at their indecisiveness. "Now, the winning Yono will chase the hunter to his home where his family lives."


    The female Jagul realized the meaning of his words and lowered her gaze in shame. Although he had not chastised her directly, it was clear she was the hunter who dared to steal from the Yono. Viyal had never seen one herself, but Yono were extremely territorial wolf-like creatures as tall as Shinoona. Even a Mosyv would not dare to fight one alone. It was an apt metaphor for the Omagala Empire in more ways than one.


    Like the mighty Yono locked in a struggle with its own, it had been too distracted to care about the irritating but trivial border raids. But that did not mean it would forgive and forget. Now that the beast was free from its more pressing problems, it could dedicate its full strength to rooting out this thorn in its side. Only if the steppe people banded together like a Yono-slaying party could they hope to survive its retribution.


    "You speak wisely for one your age," said the Kandai chief thoughtfully. He sat back down and lowered his head, a tacit endorsement for Amiro to continue speaking. The Rausam and Jagul chiefs did the same, leaving only him standing in the circle.


    "In all my life, the Gadat have been at war with themselves. Perhaps in all your lives, too," he glanced at the elderly Kandai, who only nodded knowingly. Even he had never heard of peace in the Omagala Empire for as long as he lived. "But the Gadat built an empire larger than all the lands we count as our own before their internal strife began. Now that they have no more enemies within, their eyes will be on expansion once more."


    Viyal saw faces light up with realization all around and furrowed her brow. She had considered this issue when she first heard about the Omagala Empire, but these adults had not connected the dots until somebody spelled it out for them. The level of education in a tribal society was obviously incomparable to modern times. Still, she had expected more awareness than that.


    "What do you suggest?" a voice inquired from the stands. The acoustics of the tent and the twilight it was steeped in made it difficult to see who spoke. Amiro looked around, then sighed. It seemed he did not want to say it, but his opinions regarding this matter had evolved from when Viyal was only born.


    "A coalition of all the tribes. A first strike so powerful, it will be recounted for generations. The Gadat will never dare encroach upon our lands again," he declared, pumping his fist demonstratively. A murmur ran through the gathered, and some whispered to each other in hushed tones.


    Viyal got goosebumps watching her father''s stalwart figure amidst the swelling clamor. Several other chiefs stood from their seats to announce their agreement. Cheers flew across the room and were seconded. It had only been a few minutes since Amiro entered the Jukhmahan, and he had already taken control of the entire narrative. She did not know if he had come here with that intention or decided on it spontaneously. Perhaps there was a conqueror in him yet.


    Could that tie into her prophecy? Could it be that Amiro would lay the groundwork for an empire, and Viyal would spread it across the world? Perhaps it was not just him but her entire family. Gavro carrying the word of Azakhal farther than ever before. Noro and Saro growing the Zakhira to become the most powerful tribe on the steppe. Her young cousins creating a legacy that would last for generations.


    She could not control herself and grinned from ear to ear. As she thought, to compensate for the greatness she missed with her untimely death in her previous life, she had been granted an even grander destiny in this one. Even if her origins here seemed rather humble, the view of her path grew ever clearer.

 Chapter 8 - A Day Out

    Kudaldan was in an uproar over the movement started by Amiro in the Jukhmahan. Riders left the city in all directions, carrying the message far and wide: The steppe tribes were preparing for war.


    Of course, such an important decision could not be made lightly and in the absence of so many great chiefs. Only when the majority of the tribes were in agreement could a coalition of this magnitude be formed. And two of the greatest tribes, the Ishtemur and the Shaankhor, needed to be consulted first.


    Thus, Amiro and his contingent remained in Kudaldan and awaited the arrival of the other chiefs while drafting preliminary plans. While Viyal would have liked to watch, only the chiefs were allowed in the strategy meetings. Since there was nothing else for her to do, she explored the town with Yunil every day. Tashi naturally followed her, and Rowen accompanied them as their guard.


    Viyal wore her simple travel garb and covered her white hair in a scarf. The peddlers'' attitude toward her was quite different from when she rode on a Shinoon in her silken dress. They paid her little attention and instead focused wholly on Rowen, whose black plate armor stood out among the woolen clothes of the steppe people.


    If not for the hooked nose and beard poking out from underneath his crimson hood, she would have considered that he was an animated suit of armor. She had asked him about his species a few times, but he always found a way to avoid answering outright. Someday, she hoped to learn what he really was, but she was not curious enough to find out at the expense of his goodwill.


    Kudaldan was unlike any permanent settlement, lacking even the most basic planning of streets and alleyways. It developed organically, with paths forming where people treaded so much that nothing would grow from the dirt. Tents appeared to have been placed haphazardly, but somehow, there was always space for people to walk.


    "Are you not the daughter of Chief Amiro of the Zakhira?" somebody suddenly called out to Viyal. She turned her head to see a pair of male Mosyvvi twins with reddish brown hair approaching. They were perhaps two years older than her, still childlike but already in their growth spurt. In their hands were grilled Shinoon shanks, and the corners of their mouths were oily. Four guards, two Bavadi and two Jagul, stopped a short distance behind them.


    "And you are?" Viyal inquired with a nod of greeting. Judging by the four men guarding them, they were likely the sons of a chief. Most Mosyvvi on the steppe were either leaders or wandering warriors, after all.


    "Dobro, and my brother, Tabro," the older of the two introduced them with an eyebrow raised at Viyal''s dismissive attitude. Perhaps he expected a female Mosyv to be coy toward him. "We are the sons of Chief Bairo of the Khadarta."


    "Should I know that name?" she wondered, genuinely confused at his self-important attitude. It drew an irritated glare from Dobro, but his brother grabbed his wrist to hold him back from saying anything.


    "Where is your sister? I have not seen her in the Jukhmahan," Tabro inquired, changing the topic. He seemed the more level-headed of the two, hiding his feelings at Viyal''s implication that their tribe is not significant enough to remember.


    "She is here," Viyal took Yunil''s hand and declared. She noticed that the Nokkoy had already shut out their conversation and seemed far more interested in the food the Mosyvvi twins carried.


    "What even is that?" Dobro saw his opportunity to shoot back and asked with an exaggerated look of disgust.


    "My sister, Yunil," Viyal ignored the boy''s provocation and responded with a straightforward expression. Shizuru knew his type well: Entitled and insecure brats whose only worth lay in their parents'' position. There were plenty of his kind at her school.


    Yunil snapped out of her appetite-induced trance and glanced at Viyal, sensing her tension through her touch. Even if she was used to dealing with such people in her previous life, she remembered that this world was different. They had fewer inhibitions against resorting to violence. And even a young Mosyv was deadly if they wanted to be.


    "That''s your sister?" Dobro took a step toward them and eyed Yunil with a look one gave a dirty animal by the roadside. He was almost a head taller than her, but she stood her ground and parted her lips to reveal her fangs. "What manner of creature is it?"


    "Brother," Tabro tried to stop him, but the older boy pointed his Shinoona shank at his face to shut him up.


    "Do not disrespect my lady and her sister," Tashi stepped between them and glared up at the Mosyv. He was only slightly shorter than Yunil, so his presence did not dissuade Dobro from pressing further.


    "A Gadat," he spat out as if cursing. Then he looked past Tashi as if he did not exist and grinned at Viyal, "You keep strange pets for company."


    "What?!" Tashi reached for his curved short swords.


    "That is enough, boys," Rowen suddenly put an armored palm between them and declared firmly. "Do not start trouble here."


    Dobro stared at the armored knight, confusion and fear written on his face. Now that he stood so close, he could tell that this was not an opponent his teeth and claws could harm. The Gadat had metal armors, but they were made of many small plates sewn onto padded vests. He had never faced a person whose entire body seemed to be made of steel before.


    Viyal noticed that the twins'' guards had already moved into position and were ready for an altercation. They carried spears and curved swords in scabbards, weapons taken from the Gadat. These four men were likely formidable warriors to be given the task of guarding their chief''s heirs.


    "Come on, let''s go," Tabro grabbed his brother by the wrist and pulled him away. Dobro shot them another glare before tossing his Shinoon shank aside in anger and following his more reasonable half. Yunil looked between the wasted food and Viyal with an expression of despair. She smiled wryly and petted her hair.


    "Now, young lady, that was not very wise," Rowen turned toward her and sighed. "Your father is in the process of making history, so it would be best to maintain good relations with the various tribes."


    "I merely said I didn''t know their tribe. They were the ones who insulted my sister," Viyal argued and hugged Yunil tightly. The Nokkoy smiled contentedly and nuzzled her nose into her hair.


    "They also insulted me," Tashi commented dejectedly, but Viyal ignored him.


    After that encounter, Yunil used her sense of smell to guide them to the stand where Dobro and Tabro bought the Shinoon shanks. It was operated by a Rausam, causing the two girls to chuckle at the comparison with Mannogur, the Zakhira''s chief cook. They each got a large shank in exchange for small leather goods as payment.


    Tashi did not like meat and was more interested in a nearby stand that sold bread. Viyal had not seen baked goods on the steppe before and wanted to try some. Still, she feared being unable to stomach it since Mosyvvi were purely carnivorous, so she did not want to buy a whole loaf and then have it go to waste. Instead, she snatched a piece from Tashi and popped it into her mouth.


    As expected, she had no molars to grind it down properly and could only cut it into smaller pieces with her sharp teeth. Her jaw was not made for masticating either, so she had to wiggle it around awkwardly. Yunil stared at her with a funny expression, and she felt her cheeks growing warm from embarrassment.


    "How cute," Tashi said with a dreamy look. Viyal did not feel happy about that assessment coming from him at all.


    "It''s good," she said after swallowing it. The bread was aromatic, with a hint of herbs sprinkled in. She could not tell what kind of grain the flour came from. The memories of how food tasted in her previous life had all but faded, so she could not make a comparison.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Sated and content, they made their way back to their camp at the edge of the city. Along the way, Viyal looked at the stalls curiously but decided not to buy anything. Although she was interested in the trinkets and leatherwork on display, she knew not to waste their bartering goods on decorations.


    They passed an ironware trader, and she stopped in surprise. The steppe people did not have blacksmithing, so these were likely looted from the Gadat. A suit of scale armor complete with a helmet was displayed on a mannequin. Weapons of all kinds leaned on a wooden rack.


    "They have swords from the empire," Tashi commented with a disapproving look. Viyal followed his gaze and beheld a collection of straight and curved blades lying on a cloth-covered table.


    "Oh, are you looking to get a better set of swords, young Gadat?" the merchant, a man resembling a taller and more muscular Shangra with black hair, emerged from inside his tent upon noticing their presence and asked with a businessman''s smile.


    "They are all I need," the monkey boy absentmindedly touched one of his scabbards and responded. From what Viyal saw, he maintained them religiously, oiling them regularly and sharpening them after each draw, even if they were not used. He clearly had a connection to those three curved swords that went beyond being reliable tools for battle.


    "Then for you, mighty warrior?" The merchant immediately looked to Rowen once it became clear Tashi would not be a paying customer.


    "I am confident in saying I will not find any replacement for my trusty companion in these lands. Nightfall is a special one." Rowen patted the pommel of his straight sword. The black Shangra looked at it dubiously; the leather grip was faded and tattered, and the cross guard was blackened from lack of polish.


    "What is the story behind its name?" Viyal''s curiosity was piqued.


    "It is a long story. One for another time, young lady," responded the old knight and laughed heartily. The weapon merchant seemed to grow impatient and turned to Viyal in hopes of netting at least one sale.


    "Perhaps a small blade for the young lady to protect herself?" the black Shangra picked up a curved dagger with a simple bronze scabbard. He drew the blade and showed it off under the afternoon sun. It was made from polished steel, reflecting her face like a mirror.


    "A small thing like that? Her teeth and claws are better protection," Yunil commented, furrowing her brow in doubt. She hugged Viyal from behind, grabbed the corners of her mouth, and pulled them up to reveal her sharp teeth.


    "Fa ah fu foin!" Viyal struggled against Yunil''s rough handling, and she let go and squished her cheeks instead. It was an unexpected gesture from the Nokkoy, but she was not angry enough to get out of her embrace.


    "Ah, you are a Mosyv!" The merchant''s eyes lit up with newfound hope. Perhaps he could make a good sale yet. "Then how about this spear. It is from the Gadat''s cavalry, very light and perfectly balanced. You will soon grow into it."


    "I am a girl," Viyal declared with a frown. "There is not enough growth for me left to wield one that long. The bow is my weapon."


    "And even that you are not very skilled with," muttered Yunil behind her.


    "I''m getting better!" Viyal pulled away from her and argued with a pout. Then she looked her sister up and down and considered her thoughtfully. Yunil never trained, but her natural strength and reflexes were incredible. Surely, she would head into battle one day. For that, she needed a weapon beside her teeth and bare fists. "How about you get a spear?"


    "Not my thing. I fight better with my hands," Yunil responded, causing the merchant''s face to darken again after it lit up in anticipation.


    "If you ride out into battle, you cannot fight with your fists alone," argued Rowen.


    "I don''t intend to ride. I run faster than any Shinoona." The Nokkoy sniffed in disdain at the thought. It was true that her legs were strong, and she could sprint almost as fast as an unburdened Shinoon. When it carried a rider, she could even surpass the fastest among them. Still, she would not come out on top when fighting mounted enemies with their advantage in size and reach.


    "Perhaps now is not yet the time for her," Rowen conceded with a wry laugh. The steppe tribes were preparing for a huge war, so Viyal had to convince Yunil to start learning how to ride before then. She did not want her to learn the hard way that her fighting style that prevailed in sparring might not work in a real battle.


    "Sorry for taking up your time, but we won''t be buying anything." She waved at the black Shangra merchant, who sighed in resignation and returned the gesture. They left his wares behind and headed in the direction of their camp once more.


    After only a few tents down the path, Yunil''s ears suddenly perked up. She heard the weapons merchant shouting in the distance and footsteps approaching rapidly. As she spun around, she found half a dozen men with their faces covered in scarves carrying Gadat weapons coming into sight. They had stolen them from the black Shangra, likely to hide their tracks.


    Rowen saw her expression of alertness and looked back but was too slow to react. A glaive cut right through his neck, sending his head flying. The other men spread out as best they could between the tents and tried to surround Viyal, Yunil, and Tashi, who drew his three curved swords. They all wielded polearms, so he was at a range disadvantage.


    "What?!" one of the men suddenly screamed when Rowen''s decapitated body did not fall and instead drew his sword. Before he could overcome his confusion, the headless knight bridged the distance with blinding speed. The blackened steel longsword cut into the assailant''s shoulder. It embedded itself at the center of his chest before being withdrawn in one swift motion.


    Even before the man fell, Rowen had already moved on to the next opponent. The masked man stabbed his spear at the old knight, but it slid off his breastplate without even leaving a scratch. In one fell swing of his sword, the second man was relieved of his raised arm and then his head.


    Viyal, Yunil, and Tashi watched in both terror and fascination as Rowen made short work of the remaining four assailants as all their desperate attempts at attacking him glanced off his armor. The headless knight cut down the last man from behind as he threw down his weapon and tried to run away.


    The three children were stunned as the headless knight whipped down his sword to slide off the blood and sheathed it. He walked past them and bent down to pick up his head by the tassel of his crimson hood. Viyal noticed that black mist obscured the place where his severed neck should have been, much like in his headless horse. Rowen then put his head back onto his shoulders and turned to look at them.


    "Are you unharmed?" he spoke as if what he just did was the most natural thing in this world.


    "What manner of apparition are you?" Tashi stepped in front of Viyal to cover her.


    "Hrmm, this is your first time seeing this side of me, so it is no wonder you are surprised," Rowen said, stroking his beard. "You could say I am one who returned from death, seeking vengeance on the wicked, the traitors, and the murderers."


    Shizuru recognized the legendary Dullahan in his appearance. She did not know much about it besides that it involved a headless rider on a headless horse. She should have realized the first time she saw his mount, but she had not connected the dots before seeing him lose his head.


    "I trust you, Rowen," Viyal nodded, and the old knight''s gray beard shifted into a visible broad smile. He had been with her tribe long before she was born, so they likely knew about this aspect of his. And now she had finally witnessed the reason her mother said he was a mighty warrior.


    "Are you not afraid of this uncanny being?" Tashi was unconvinced and questioned Viyal''s seemingly ill-considered acceptance of Rowen''s casual headlessness.


    "He is like a grandfather to me, Tashi," she declared, putting a hand on the boy''s arm. He hesitated for a moment but lowered his weapons. If his lady said so, he would trust her.


    "My, to be considered family by the young lady, I am honored," Rowen bowed his head before her, and it fell off again. He caught it before it hit the ground and raised it back onto his shoulders. "Oops, it would seem I did not reattach it properly."


    Tashi stared at him with an aghast expression, but Viyal chuckled. Then she turned to Yunil, who had been surprisingly silent throughout the ordeal. The Nokkoy''s eyes were fixated on the old knight, her pupils narrowed into slits. Her hair stood on end, and she seemed frozen in fear.


    "That was amazing! Please teach me how to fight like that!" she suddenly blurted out, shocking Viyal and Tashi. Rowen laughed heartily at her enthusiasm.


    "Now, now. I wear this heavy armor one cannot find in these lands." He knocked on his breastplate audibly. "Without it, I would not even be half as effective against the people of the steppe. They are too fast for me."


    Yunil furrowed her brow at that obvious lie. He moved as fast as the assailants did while not needing to avoid their attacks. Some tribes had a culture of wielding round shields in combat, usually to compensate for their lack of physical prowess. Rowen''s armor was akin to a shield that encased the whole body, yet his skills were on par with some of the strongest species of the steppe. Viyal even wondered if he could perhaps defeat her father in single combat.


    "You run faster than I can ride. You are nimble enough to catch arrows in your hands. Do not rush to learn from this old fool." He sighed and concluded with a smile, "You have your own way of fighting."


    He was right in that regard. Not about the part where he was too humble about his skills, but his fighting style. It was powerful and efficient, but somebody without such fine armor could not dare to replicate it. Padded vests offered some protection, but the spear thrusts and glaive slashes that glanced off his plate earlier would have been fatal if he had worn only that.


    Yunil looked dissatisfied but seemed to accept his reasoning for now. But Viyal knew she would not let the matter rest for long and bring it up again some other time. She looked past her and noticed Tashi bending down to take off the scarf covering a dead assailant''s face.


    "It''s one of the guards that was following those Mosh twins from earlier." He dropped the scarf again and straightened his back to look around. "It seems they held a grudge."


    "This might complicate some things," said Rowen in a worried tone.


    Viyal furrowed her brow, and her mind started to race. They were attacked for a perceived insult and merely defended themselves. Yet, it was undeniable that they killed six warriors from the Khadarta tribe. Regardless of the circumstances, there would be repercussions.

 Chapter 9 - Champion of the Zakhira

    "You idiot!" A roar rang out from inside the Jukhmahan. The tent door was thrown open, and Dobro came flying out, landing right before Viyal''s feet. A male Mosyv with streaks of white hair in his mane emerged after him, visibly steaming from anger. He was most likely Chief Bairo of the Khadarta.


    Viyal and her companions had returned to the Jukhmahan to report the earlier attack on them. It would appear that somebody had informed Chief Bairo before them, perhaps even Dobro himself. His idiotic son now struggled to stand up, holding his face and spitting out bloody teeth.


    His father was a Mosyv with an imposing brown mane and a lean physique. Of course, both were not as impressive as Amiro''s, but few were. Still, he was a Mosyv, one of the strongest species of the steppe. And he had evidently not held back against his own son.


    "Tabro, you were with him! Why did you not stop your idiot brother?" Chief Bairo grabbed Tabro by the collar and raised him to his eye level.


    "I did, but Brother would not listen," Tabro answered calmly. Even when faced with his father''s wrath did he not lose his cool. Viyal could appreciate a level-headed child like him.


    "What happened, Chief Bairo?" Amiro came out of the tent after him.


    "She is the one!" Dobro noticed Viyal and her entourage and pointed at them in accusation. "She insulted our tribe!"


    Amiro glanced at Rowen questioningly, and the old knight nodded silently. With this, he immediately understood that he was not just making things up.


    "That does not give you the right or a reason to send assassins after her!" Chief Bairo bellowed, raising a fist to punch Dobro again. But Amiro grabbed his arm and stopped him.


    "This involves my daughter. Let me hear what happened." He looked at Viyal with a frown. "From both sides."


    Thus, they stood before the Jukmahan''s entrance and listened to Dobro''s exaggerated retelling of Viyal''s insulting behavior toward him and his tribe''s name. Then, Viyal repeated it without any of the embellishments he added. The adults listened silently, and Chief Bairo''s anger toward his son subsided visibly.


    Amiro stepped up to his daughter and hit her across the face. It was hard enough to knock her down, but he clearly held back. "You will apologize to the Khadarta."


    Yunil''s eyes widened in shock, and she twitched, but one quick glare from Amiro stopped her. His expression showed that this was not her place to do or say anything. She watched in anguish as Viyal held her cheek and stood up slowly, but when she saw her expression, her jaw dropped. Not only did she not cry, but her gaze was firm.


    "I apologize for my thoughtless insult." Viyal bowed to Dobro and Chief Bairo. She understood her father''s sentiment and what was at stake here. A little pain and her pride were nothing if it could tide over the six dead men from the Khadarta and keep their tribe in the coalition.


    "Hey, get up and do the same." Chief Bairo knocked his son on the head before pulling him up by the collar. Dobro was too stunned to react, so his father forced his head down and continued, "The death of my men is their own fault, for listening to my foolish son and attacking somebody more skilled than them. With this, I hope there will be no bad blood between the Zakhira and the Khadarta."


    "If you have decided so, then we will say no more," Amiro nodded and put a hand on Viyal''s head. She felt the gentleness and warmth in his touch. He was still her father, even if he had to act like the chief in this situation.


    "However, there is one thing I would like to know. Who defeated my warriors?" Chief Bairo looked at Viyal, then the three accompanying her. There was no way the young Nokkoy or the Gadat could take down six men without sustaining a single scratch. That left Rowen, the only adult among them.


    "I merely surprised them with the sturdiness of my armor," responded the old knight, bowing his head in humility.


    "You must be a mighty warrior indeed, to defeat some of my best without letting any harm come to the children in your care," the Khadarta chief said, stroking his beard thoughtfully.


    "What say you to a show duel between him and your champion?" Amiro suddenly suggested. "It would be an opportunity to silence the rumors before they begin by showing your tribe''s might."


    Chief Bairo considered his words with a difficult expression. He had not thought about the fact that perhaps the other tribes would think his warriors weak. Their name was already tarnished by one of their sons sending six assassins after three children and an old man. The fact that they were killed in return without inflicting a single wound on their targets would surely soon be on everybody''s lips.


    The Khadarta''s position in the future coalition would be in jeopardy if they were seen as a tribe of little strength. He needed to show the other tribes that not all his men were so weak to be defeated by a lone foreigner. As such, a show duel was the perfect opportunity to restore their honor. Either their champion beat Rowen and signaled their tribe''s worth or the foreign warrior proved himself a peerless fighter few on the steppe could best.


    "That is an excellent idea," Chief Bairo agreed with a grin that showed off his front row of sharp teeth. He turned around and called out into the Jukhmahan, "Adaro, come out here!"


    From that name, it was quite clear who Chief Bairo''s champion would be. A Mosyv that looked like his mirror image emerged from the Jukhmahan moments later. Like in Amiro and Gavro, this one was noticeably bulkier than his twin brother. Viyal always thought her uncle was a special case, but perhaps all Mosyvvi were like that. Once one settled into a leadership role, the other grew stronger to become their champion.


    "What say you?" Chief Bairo asked his brother, gesturing at Rowen.


    "I shall not underestimate him," Adaro responded, evidently having overheard the conversation from inside. The old knight turned his head slightly and looked at Amiro. The chief of the Zakhira gave him a meaningful nod.


    The news of a mighty foreign warrior facing a Mosyv champion spread across Kudaldan like wildfire. The entire city seemed to gather at the fighting pit near the Jukhmahan to witness this show duel, even if they did not understand what it was about. The pit was a circle of trampled dirt surrounded by a hill. Countless people gathered on the slopes, here to see some excitement.


    As expected, Rowen did not remove his hood and armor, but he wielded a wooden sword instead of Nightfall. On the other side, Adaro carried a quarterstaff and fought topless. A show duel was not a fight to the death; the winner would be judged by the chiefs based on strikes to vital areas or if one of the duelists conceded.


    Viyal realized this favored Adaro since Rowen''s fighting style was incompatible with these rules. He had no need to dodge attacks aimed at his vitals as they were covered by plate armor. Since he never took it off, it was likely difficult for him to adjust his reflexes and instincts.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    "Begin!" Chief Bairo bellowed from the ringside and gave the signal.


    Adaro charged right in and launched a flurry of thrusts with his longer reach. Despite looking brutish like all Mosyvvi, he was not a mindless fighter. He knew that the old warrior dispatched six of his tribe''s warriors handily. Even if he was confident in his species'' physical strength, he did not underestimate his opponent, just as he had announced.


    Rowen deflected each thrust with his sword, holding his position without getting hit once. A distinctive noise would ring if the quarterstaff knocked against his armor. However, only the sounds of wood striking each other could be heard across the pit. Even the onlookers who were not fighters could appreciate the level of skill and control this took.


    After the first exchange, Adaro stepped back and assessed the situation. Any other fighter in his tribe would have been overwhelmed by this assault, but this old man''s breath did not even appear to have quickened. He stood still, sword at the ready, waiting for his opponent to come at him again.


    The Mosyv champion lowered his stance and charged forward. Rowen anticipated a sweep to his legs and brought his wooden sword low. But to his surprise, Adaro controlled his staff with expert movements, hitting the ground and bouncing it upward from below. The old knight dodged the tip just in time to avoid getting hit in the face. In the same motion, he slashed upward with his wooden sword, but Adaro avoided it narrowly by going even lower.


    Viyal gasped at the quick exchange. If the thrust toward his face had landed, he would have lost his head in front of the entire audience. Surely, he wanted to keep that a secret from most people. It was an advantage that could swing a real battle in his favor, so it would have been wasted on this show duel.


    The two fighters took their distance again and gauged each other. Adaro was clearly in another league compared to the six assassins that came after them. The Mosyvvi were in a class of their own on the steppe when it came to physical abilities and battle sense. It was the reason so many diverse tribes were led by them, even though their species did not form tribes themselves.


    Adaro lowered himself even further, looking like a beast ready to pounce. Despite appearances, he was level-headed and had his mind focused on the goal of this duel. If this had been a battle to the death, he would have taken a different approach. In his experience, ripping off an enemy leader''s armor pieces with his bare hands and stabbing their exposed flesh with his stinger in exchange for getting slashed by their blade was a viable strategy. However, he could not use his venom in a show duel, as that would defeat its purpose of displaying one''s fighting skills in a straightforward clash.


    This time, the Mosyv champion swept the quarterstaff in an arc with one hand, aiming at Rowen''s ankles. He expected that he could not jump easily in his heavy armor. To his surprise, the old knight''s wooden sword was stabbed into the sand and blocked the staff, causing it to bounce off.


    Before Adaro could regain control over his weapon, Rowen charged forward, pulling the sword''s tip along the ground. He drew it free in a shower of sand that temporarily blinded the Mosyv and brought the blade down on his shoulder.


    But Adaro twisted his body out of the way out of pure instinct and avoided the attack. He brought the staff around in the same motion, switched hands, and swung it at Rowen''s flank from below. The old knight barely drew back his sword in time to deflect the strike and slid backward to take his distance.


    The audience erupted in cheers. Everybody understood that they bore witness to a high-level duel between two immensely skilled combatants. Even though they were using wooden weapons, neither had let themselves get hit. They treated this pit as a battlefield, where being struck could mean the difference between life and death.


    Viyal was baffled that Rowen could fight like that despite being used to wearing plate armor. None of the steppe tribes'' common weapons could penetrate it, so he likely never had to dodge their attacks before. It showed how skilled he was in real combat when he could turn on a dime and change his fighting style to suit the situation.


    She watched the two combatants gauge each other and perform probing strikes under the audience''s watchful gaze. By now, the Khadarta had already proven that they were not weak, but that Rowen was incredibly strong. All that remained was to see if he would come out on top against a Mosyv and become known as a legendary warrior.


    Once again, Adaro took the initiative and launched another flurry of thrusts. His reach advantage was one thing Rowen could never hope to overcome. In two fighters of equal skill, the spear fighter won against the swordsman every time. Even if he could defend against the attacks, it was only a matter of time until a feint led to a missed deflection and a hit.


    Adaro''s bare upper body was steaming in the cool air. Still, his eyes were focused, and his breathing steady. It would be a while before he grew exhausted from this relentless assault that made him look like three people attacking at once. Viyal found herself wondering how her father would fare against him.


    On the other side, Rowen did not show a hint of tiring. Since his eyes were covered and his beard hid his mouth, nobody could tell what kind of expression he wore. Still, his movements were as sharp as ever, deflecting every strike and weaving in attacks of his own whenever an opportunity presented itself.


    Was Rowen perhaps really an undead? The old knight had implied that he returned from the dead to seek vengeance. Had his head been severed by a traitor, and he turned into this apparition due to a lingering resentment? If that were true, he would likely never tire and continue fighting until his body turned to dust.


    The noise of wood hitting metal rang out, pulling Viyal from her thoughts. Yunil breathed in sharply beside her, and she knew what had happened. Adaro''s quarterstaff had found its target in the blinding flurry of swings and thrusts. Emboldened by the sound, he pushed forward one step and redoubled his efforts.


    Suddenly, his grip slipped, and the quarterstaff impacted among the audience behind Rowen. The Mosyv fell onto one knee and gasped for air. A red streak formed on his left shoulder, and his arm hung down limply, likely dislocated. The old knight stood over him and awaited his next move.


    The audience was stunned silent by this turn of events. They heard the staff hitting the old knight''s armor, a sign that his defense had finally wavered. Yet, a moment later, his opponent kneeled before him, disarmed despite being on the attack. How had that come to pass?


    "It wasn''t the staff hitting his armor. He hit it with his own sword," Tashi commented beside Viyal. "It was a trick to draw his opponent in so he could land his strike."


    She stared at the monkey boy in surprise; he had been able to follow their blindingly fast exchange. His dynamic vision must have been incredible to catch such a detail when even Adaro did not. And Rowen was even more amazing to sneak in such a maneuver in the middle of the overwhelming assault.


    "I concede," declared Adaro, lowering his head in defeat. He then set his dislocated shoulder with a noise that rang across the stands. His expression barely changed, even though it must have been quite painful. Instead, he stood up, grabbed Rowen''s wrist, and raised his hand up high to announce his victory, "Here is a warrior without equal! Hail Rowen of the Zakhira!"


    The crowd erupted in thunderous applause. Chief Bairo nodded with a grin of recognition. Viyal sighed in relief when Adaro was not only a gracious loser but even praised Rowen in front of the entire audience. With this, the bad air had been cleared; the Khadarta''s honor was restored, and they could work together in the coalition of tribes without the shadow of enmity looming over them.


    It was another excuse for the adults to drink and feast. The festive atmosphere spread, and soon, the entire city was on its feet, setting up a celebration. Rowen was a foreigner, but today, he has become a hero of the steppe, recognized by all. He was led around by Adaro, introduced to his tribesmen, and made to drink with them.


    Amiro stepped aside to let his trusted warrior take center stage. A lesser chief would likely have pushed himself into the foreground to take credit for the achievements of his champion. He put an arm around Viyal and pulled her close before speaking quietly so only she could hear, "Watch closely, my child. This is what it means to gain the trust and support of the people."


    Viyal looked up at her father and seared his proud expression into her memory. On the surface, one could think he meant Rowen, who won everybody''s hearts through his humility and the might of his sword arm. But she knew he meant the Zakhira tribe as a whole. If not for his clever maneuvering, this situation would not have come to pass. Unlike his push for a coalition in the Jukhmahan, he even managed to divert focus from himself while reaping the benefits.


    Shizuru used to imagine people of medieval times to be more barbaric, using only force to get what they wanted. Although the beings in this world were not humans, she thought the same applied to them. Growing up among them opened her eyes to their depth and complexity. She would never again underestimate people in this world, regardless of their level of education or sophistication.


    She glanced at Yunil. The young Nokkoy was like a sister, and in the future, she would surely become her champion. Then, there was Tashi. Although she did not think too highly of his advances toward her, she could not ignore his potential. One day, she would surely come to rely on them like Amiro did on Gavro and Rowen.

 Chapter 10 - The Shaankhor

    On the third day of the third month after the Zakhira party arrived in Kudaldan, the Shaankhor appeared over the horizon in the southwest. It was not merely a detachment like many other chiefs brought, but their entire tribe.


    The Shuva, the primary species of the Shaankhor tribe, were slender bird people with short, slightly curved beaks, dark eyes, and mottled brown plumages. They had wings with three-clawed hands that allowed them to glide very short distances, but they never had the ability to fly since their bodies were too heavy. Still, their chest muscles were well-suited for bows with incredibly heavy draws.


    Although the males had slightly larger builds with showy blue, red, and golden plumage, they were few and far between and kept from battle. It was a female-dominated species, and at their top stood their chief, Ivakha the Snowblood.


    They rode Hyarula, towering ostrich-like birds with murderous glares and even more murderous curved beaks. When one fought a Shuva rider, one faced two enemies simultaneously. Unlike any other mount on the steppe, they were carnivorous, capable of killing opponents even without a rider.


    The Shaankhor''s ranks parted, and a massive carriage covered in blue banners drove to the forefront. It was pulled by four especially fierce-looking and richly-ornamented Hyarula. Inside sat the Shaankhor chief, hidden from view behind a veil like an empress on an outing to observe the masses.


    The Shaankhor were the wealthiest tribe on the steppe, and they liked to show it. They were the only ones to conduct trade with one of the Omagala Empire''s lords while they were still embroiled in their civil war. The wealth and subsequent superior equipment and numbers they amassed over the past decades allowed them to dictate much of the politics on the steppes.


    Their tribe set up camp on a hill near the city and sent a contingent of warriors to clear a path to the Jukhmahan for their chief. Her giant carriage could not fit through the narrow pathways, so the tents were taken down and their inhabitants sent away through persuasion or force. The Shaankhor did not make many friends among the other tribes. But those who held real power rarely cared for others'' opinions.


    Viyal could tell she would not get along with any of the Shuva. The way they rode on their Hyarula, heads held high, looking down their beaks at everybody as below them. It was the attitude of people who viewed status as the most important thing in the world. Chief Ivakha would doubtlessly use hers to take control of the talks in the gathering of chiefs and weave them to her advantage.


    The procession of over two hundred warriors, standard-bearers, entertainers, and servants entered Kudaldan with Ivakha the Snowblood traveling at their center. The people of the city gathered to see the spectacle, trying to get a glimpse of the Shaankhor chief''s rumored otherworldly appearance.


    Viyal watched from the Jukhmahan''s entrance alongside the other chiefs. She felt that voluntarily waiting outside the tent for Chief Ivakha''s arrival was akin to vassals coming out to greet their ruler. Surely, she was not the only one who thought like this, but they still did it. That was how much weight they afforded the Shaankhor tribe''s goodwill.


    The procession reached the Jukhmahan and split toward both sides. The warriors surrounded the tent and set up a perimeter for their chief''s safety. Finally, the standard bearers and entertainers stood aside to make way for the giant carriage. The guides on both sides turned it around so its side faced the tent entrance before the servants, all members of other species, set up a stepladder.


    "Make way for her greatness, Chief Ivakha the Snowblood!" one of the Shuva warriors announced in a commanding tone. Four guards almost floated down their mounts with graceful movements and gestured for the gathered chiefs to stand back. Viyal could tell that everybody endured for the sake of realizing the coalition against the Gadat invasion.


    The veil to the door hiding their chief was pulled aside by one of the servants wearing a cloth mask. Beyond was a silk-covered throne upon which sat a Shuva dressed in golden robes and smoking a long pipe. She was an albino with snow-white feathers and blood-red eyes, the reason for her title, the Snowblood. Surrounding her were three colorful males of her harem, perhaps the greatest symbol of her status in the tribe.


    Chief Ivakha handed the pipe to one of the men before standing up and throwing off her robes. Underneath it was an ornamental version of her warriors'' battle dresses covered in beautiful floral patterns made from golden threads. She climbed down her carriage on slender legs, which sported golden ankle rings. Her long tail feathers stood up straight as an arrow to balance her steps, which were accompanied by the clopping sounds of wood.


    Her clawed bird feet clutched handles attached to painted wooden blocks. Unlike her guards, who walked barefoot to be ready for battle, she had something akin to shoes. Yet, it showed that she could discard them readily and defend herself when needed.


    Perhaps Viyal had judged her too harshly. Despite initial appearances, she was not some snobbish noble detached from the reality of life on the steppe. Her combat readiness showed she was a chief like any other, even if her entrance was pompous, to say the least.


    "Welcome, Chief Ivakha," Amiro stepped forward first and greeted her. She looked up at him with a suspicious gaze from her crimson eyes before they widened in realization.


    "Little brat?" she wondered in a surprisingly luscious, deep tone. "Amiro of the Tekhema?"


    "How long ago was that? I am the chief of the Zakhira now," he responded proudly.


    "You will forever be that cheeky brat who ripped a feather from my tail," Ivakha said with a frown. Viyal blinked at the thought that her father used to be a daring prankster who would do something so disrespectful to the chief of the Shaankhor. "What did you do with it? I hope for your sake that you treasure it even now."


    "I gifted it to the girl of my heart. She is now my wife," Amiro declared, not a hint of remorse in his tone. That seemed to take Ivakha aback, but she quickly gathered her wits and closed her eyes in silent acknowledgment. If it was for something as lofty as impressing a girl, she would accept a boy''s folly.


    "And this girl hiding behind you is a daughter from your union?" the Shuva chief inquired. Her eyes narrowed, and she bent her legs to lower herself to Viyal''s level. "First, you take my feather. Now, you rear a child to take my title."


    They were fellow albinos, rare existences on the steppe. Viyal was unsure how much of what the chief said was in jest. After all, Snowblood seemed like an amazing title indeed for an albino destined to slay the Girgasatso of the Wastes. And even more so for her true destiny of conquering the world.


    "Nonsense. Viyal here will have her own grand title when the time comes." Her father waved off Chief Ivakha''s joking accusation without explaining further. "Now, we should not dawdle further. Everybody is growing impatient."


    Amiro gestured at the gathered chiefs, who showed no such signs. They knew not to let pride get in the way of good relations, and some seemed to enjoy hearing about the Zakhira chief''s childhood escapades. The man who had taken the lead in the gathering of tribes and perhaps in the coalition to come had always appeared as a paragon of Azakhal''s virtues. With this little story, the otherwise perfect leader gained some relatability in their eyes.


    Chief Ivakha turned to greet the other chiefs after shooting Viyal another glance. Stepping into her place was a queue of younger Shuva in similarly opulent clothes. Although Viyal could hardly tell apart members of their species, she understood they were the chief''s daughters.


    The oldest was taller than her mother, while the youngest still had downy feathers like a chick. Their sharp, downward gazes showed they were not as amicable as the chief. They came here not to make friends but to accompany their mother and show the might of the Shaankhor tribe. It was the same attitude Viyal displayed when she first arrived here. She had since adjusted her approach after the debacle with Dobro and the Khadarta tribe.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    After the greetings, the chiefs followed Amiro and Ivakha into the Jukhmahan. Their children did the same and quietly took their seats in the stands. Everybody was well-educated to mind their manners at this most important of gatherings.


    The first topic of the day was the situation surrounding the encroachment of the Omagala Empire and the growing armies within their lands readying themselves to strike north. New messengers arrived in Kudaldan daily to inform the chiefs of the situation near the border. The latest development was an expeditionary force that built three earthen forts during their foray into the steppe before the raids from nearby tribes drove them back to their lands.


    Ivakha the Snowblood sat on a large cushion brought specifically for her and listened silently. Perhaps she had nothing to add since she just arrived, or she already knew everything from her own sources. Whatever the case, she had the presence of an empress, watching her court discuss among themselves.


    Viyal paid close attention to her demeanor. Ivakha came from a line of chiefs who ruled over the same people for generations, unlike the Mosyvvi, who rarely inherited their tribes from their parents. She preferred the more familial atmosphere among people who followed a leader they recognized after he showed his mettle. Still, having the bearing of a traditional ruler would garner admiration and support from the masses who did not know her personally.


    Soon, the conversation shifted from the news to organizing the tribes for the coalition. Some tribes did not work well with others due to generations-old grudges or simple biological differences. Viyal took mental notes again. As a future conqueror, she would need to learn how to keep her subjects working together happily.


    "The Ishtemur will arrive in two days," Amiro brought up this piece of information almost gingerly. He glanced at Chief Ivakha, who frowned at the announcement. "I hope that for the sake of our people, you can put aside your enmity for a little while."


    "That will be entirely up to them," the Shuva responded with a disparaging sniff.


    "I''ll make sure to ask them, too," he said with a wry smile. The other chiefs only shook their heads and sighed.


    The rivalry between the Ishtemur and the Shaankhor was legendary. Since the steppe people''s oral tradition began, long before even a hint of complex tribal societies had formed, the Selemur and the Shuva had been at each other''s throats. Their two species seemed inherently incompatible, fighting whenever they met.


    Before the advent of weapons, especially archery, and Hyarul husbandry, even the strongest Shuva could only hope to run from an average Selemur. With similar birth and growth rates, the bird people were hopelessly outmatched in direct confrontations. Yet, they made up for the difference in strength with cooperation and strategy very early on. Aside from the naturally tribal species, the Shuva were the first to band together beyond family units.


    Over time, both their species consolidated into a few dozen tribes each, with the largest being the Shaankhor and the Ishtemur. Rumors of Ivakha seeking to gather all the other tribes into a single horde had cropped up over the past few years. Perhaps this coalition against the Omagala Empire would be the cornerstone of such a historic undertaking.


    Viyal watched the Snowblood closely; she was a role model she could follow, more so than her father. While she could replicate his oratory skills, the physical prowess that allowed him to lead from the front was something not afforded to the females of their species. Although Aunt Zalavi used to head into battle alongside her husband, that all ended after she gave birth.


    Thinking about it now, Viyal''s prophecy said she would conquer the world. It could be interpreted in many ways, but it was likely not through marriage. She was not interested in having children either way, although it was questionable how much say she would have in the matter, given this world''s level of society.


    It would appear that Chief Ivakha had no objections to fighting the Omagala Empire even though their tribe only grew to its current standing because they traded with it. Obviously, she knew the empire''s internal situation better than anybody in the Jukhmahan, so perhaps their contract had since been canceled, and she saw no more need to play nice with the Gadat.


    As the chiefs moved on to the strategy meeting, all children, besides those already considered adults, had to leave the tent. Viyal followed her brothers, who had yet to have their coming-of-age ceremony, and joined the stream of people walking out into the evening air. The younger children began to chat away, but her ears perked up when she heard whispers about an albino being exchanged behind her.


    "That''s the rumored one," one of the voices said.


    "Skin like ash," added the second.


    "So ugly," said another, and several children giggled.


    Normally, Viyal would not have paid them any attention, but then she heard one say, "Nothing like mother."


    This prompted her to turn around and face the gossipers. They were a group of twelve Shuva, with the tallest roughly at Yunil''s height and the shortest looking like a chick, barely reaching up to Viyal''s waist. These were not all of Ivakha''s children. Her three oldest daughters were of age and attended the strategy meeting. On the other hand, her youngest few remained in the Shaankhor camp outside the city.


    "What?" one of the girls in the middle of the pack age-wise asked with what constituted a frown for a Shuva. Her gaze seemed to suggest Viyal better not think about retaliating against their insults. When she saw the young Mosyv''s glare, she narrowed her eyes and puffed up her chest. "If you have anything to say, do it now."


    "Don''t bother with her, Chambai. Her kind only thinks with their muscles," commented one with a chuckle. The girl named Chambai shook her tail feathers and snorted in disdain.


    "And what great muscles they are," Noro suddenly stated behind Viyal, flexing his arms with a grin that showed off his sharp teeth.


    "All the girls are mad over them," Saro added, posing beside his brother. Viyal stared at them, unsure if they were joking to lighten the mood or did not understand they had been insulted. She hoped for their sake it was the former.


    The Shuva were taken aback by the two boys seemingly coming to Viyal''s aid. Since Noro and Saro were almost fully grown Mosyvvi, the children would not dare get physical with their little sister. Additionally, a crowd of onlookers formed around them when they sensed something was going down. As the daughters of Ivakha the Snowblood, they could not embarrass themselves.


    "Viyal," Yunil pushed past the children and called out to her.


    "A Nokkoy!" one of the Shuva exclaimed, her eyes as round as saucers. The others stared at Yunil as if she were an apparition.


    "I thought they went extinct!" another added. "Buy it!"


    "I''ll give you two of our Bavadi slaves for it. No, three!" Chambai stepped up to Viyal and demanded. She narrowed her eyes at the clawed hand in her face. One part of her mused about how a Shuva would show the number four since they only had three fingers. But she took offense at how they talked about her sister as if she were an animal.


    "She is my sister," Viyal declared, grabbing her arm and pulling her close.


    "A Mosyv considering a Nokkoy her sister," said Chambai, visibly confused. "You keep it not as a pet?"


    "Viyal saved me from being eaten," Yunil reciprocated her sister''s hug and explained.


    "A Mosyv saving someone from being eaten." Chambai grew even more confused.


    "Our sister is strange like that," Noro and Saro said in unison, smiling wryly.


    "It could be the last Nokkoy out there," one of the younger Shuva said, pulling on Chambai''s dress. "I want it!"


    "She is a person, and her name is Yunil!" Viyal growled, baring her teeth. The chick stumbled back in terror and hid behind her elder sisters.


    "Hmph, I always knew Mosyvvi were base creatures." Chambai snorted in disdain. "A beast befits another as kin."


    The next moment, a fist impacted her beak, and she fell onto her backside. Viyal stood tall over the girl and roared, "Apologize now!"


    "Phew, sister," Saro grabbed her and pulled her away before she did any more. Noro stepped between them and preempted the other Shuva children''s retaliation. "This is going to cause trouble again."


    "Mama, this Mosyv hit big sis Chambai!" one of the younger chicks ran back into the Jukhmahan screaming.


    "There it is," Noro said, sighing in resignation.


    "I did nothing wrong," Viyal insisted, stomping her foot in anger.


    "D-do you know what you have done?" Chambai stood back up on unsteady legs. The punch must have really shaken her brain, even though Viyal was anything but physically strong. "Mother will punish you and your entire tribe! You will be enslaved-"


    "That''s enough." The oldest Shuva in the group broke Chambai''s eye contact with Viyal with her wing and stepped between them. She was around Yunil''s height, marking her as a child around their age. Yet, her reddish-brown eyes betrayed wisdom beyond her years. Despite being a female, she had one bluish flight feather on each wing, and her mottled plumage had white speckles. She lowered her head and said calmly, "I apologize for my sister. I will speak to Mother and see that there will be no repercussions for this quarrel."


    "Altuna!" Chambai tried to push past her sister but received a sharp glare that froze her in place.


    "That''s a reasonable kid," commented Noro, glancing back at Viyal meaningfully. She stared at Altuna in surprise; she had not expected such a modest one to be among Ivakha''s children. Unlike the heirs of smaller tribes, the Shaankhor''s ruling family was akin to royalty. It would appear some of its members were better educated on common decency and diplomacy than others.


    "Viyal, what have you done this time!" Amiro''s voice bellowed from inside the Jukhmahan, causing everybody to flinch.


    "Let''s run," said Saro. He did not wait for anybody''s response before picking up Viyal under his arm and pushing through the circle of onlookers to escape into the maze of tents that was Kudaldan. Yunil followed them hastily but glanced back at Altuna once before disappearing into the crowd.


    "He leaves me with the burden of tiding things over, huh?" Noro scratched his mane and sighed.


    "I shall help explain the circumstances to your father," Altuna reassured him with a straight-laced expression.


    "I see that you are indeed a very reasonable one," he said, grinning broadly.

 Chapter 11 - New Friend

    Saro carried Viyal off to the riverbank of the Avarkhal, where he finally set her down. She showed not a hint of remorse and crossed her arms before her brother, and he sighed in resignation. He cared little for decorum and politics himself, but they were dealing with the Shaankhor. If they did not participate in this coalition, it was doomed from the start. He was willing to put aside his feelings and do what was best for the tribe.


    "I always thought you were a creepy little sister," Saro suddenly said, causing Viyal to stare at him in confusion. "You never cried, you''re smart beyond your age, and you show interest in things ill befitting a girl."


    She raised an eyebrow at the third statement. What constituted interests that girls should not have? The women of the steppe learned to ride, fight with spears, and archery just the same as the men. Even if a Mosyv woman lost most of their martial prowess after they gave birth, they still taught their daughters so they could fight and survive on their own until then.


    "You can''t hide your unabashed fascination with the politics the chiefs discuss in the Jukhmahan," Saro explained with a grin. "All the Mosyv girls there stare at us men, gauging how fit we are to be the fathers of their children. They only whisper among themselves and giggle while pointing at us. They show not a hint of interest in the debates."


    Viyal blinked in surprise. She did not expect her brother to pay such close attention to everybody''s behavior, especially hers. It was true that she did not even think about looking for a future partner in the Jukhmahan, although this was perhaps a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to choose one for herself. If she did not find somebody among all the gathered sons of chiefs, her parents would probably select a man for her when she came of age.


    "You''re their exact opposite. You did not speak with the girls your age and not even as much as glanced at the Mosyv boys. Your senses were solely focused on the politics. As if you were studying them," her brother concluded and sat on the grassy slope.


    She saw Noro and Saro grow from children into adults. It was strange for her to say since she was born after them, but she retained her mental age from her previous life. They used to be selfish and mischievous boys who gave their tribesmen trouble almost every day. After they grew up, she thought of them as muscle heads with only a mind for training their bodies. And after coming here, they constantly tried to impress the Mosyv girls in the Jukhmahan.


    Despite vowing not to underestimate the people of this world, she had continued to do so with her very own elder brothers. Shizuru was used to judging people based on how they acted in public because she thought it was their true selves. After all, she showed only her true self regardless of who she was with and thought everybody was the same. All that despite knowing people put on different faces with different people.


    "So, why is this girl so interested in politics unable to hold back from antagonizing the children of other tribes even though the coalition could depend on it?" Saro tilted his head and wondered with a wry smile.


    "Don''t make it sound like it''s my habit! It only happened once before!" Viyal complained, but her brother''s expression did not waver. She was twice involved, and it was twice more than any other child in Kudaldan. Although the first time was the other party''s fault for letting violence follow verbal insults, this time was different.


    "Why did this creepy little sister who is wise beyond her age lose control over such childish insults?" he pursued the matter with a knowing expression.


    "Stop calling me creepy..." muttered Viyal, unable to refute her brother''s implication. She understood very well why she flared up at Chambai''s insults, but she did not want to admit the true reason that Saro could never even imagine.


    Shizuru had never felt anything when people insulted her or her family in her past life. She ignored their behavior as the cries of losers envious of the chosen ones. But the truth was that she had simply acted the way her parents expected from her, as someone beyond trifles such as the words of lesser people.


    "Because they insulted Yunil," Viyal finally admitted, balling her fists and lowering her head. She had been an only child and had no real friends at school. This was the first time she had somebody she could get angry for; she did not know how to hold back the emotions flaring up inside her when it was for somebody else''s sake. "She''s my sister, but people keep treating her like an animal."


    Saro put his large hand on her head and stroked her hair with a sigh. He glanced over his shoulder and noticed Yunil''s tail peeking out from behind a nearby tent. She must have realized they were having a heart-to-heart and had not wanted to disturb them. Surely, she overheard every word with her amazing hearing.


    "I''ve seen a new side to you today, Sister," he said with a broad grin that showed off his sharp teeth. He lifted Viyal into his arms and rubbed his cheek against hers.


    "Your beard is itchy!" she complained and struggled, but she could never hope to break out of a male Mosyv''s embrace. After a moment, she gave up and reciprocated the hug.


    Shizuru''s heart ached at the thought that she could not remember if her parents in her previous life had ever embraced her. On the other hand, she could not even begin to count how often her family had done so in this life. No wonder she developed such a strong drive to protect them with all her might.


    When Viyal looked over Saro''s shoulder, she noticed Yunil coming around the corner of a nearby tent and approaching them gingerly. There was no way she could not keep up with Saro carrying her under his arm, so she must have noticed that they had something to discuss and waited at a distance.


    "Come here," Viyal beckoned, extending her arms invitingly. Yunil leaped into her embrace and squeezed her tightly. As the dog girl nuzzled her snout against Viyal''s cheek, she considered what she could do to return her love.


    She was aware most people in the Zakhira tribe considered her simple-minded and barely more than Viyal''s pet, even if they would never say it out loud. Those who did not think so took their time to teach her the reality of her situation once she was old enough to understand. She was quite possibly the last survivor of her species and would have been sold as a slave to be used and discarded. If not for Viyal, who was barely able to speak a word at the time, demanding to buy her, she would likely no longer be alive now.


    That was why Yunil did not dare bare her fangs against those who insulted her. She thought it would reflect poorly on Viyal, who was always calm and composed. But today taught her differently. The girl who treated her like her real sister despite being from a different species became angry for her sake. Even though Viyal was half a head shorter and physically weaker than Yunil, she stood up for her against somebody they could not afford to offend.


    She recalled Rowen''s duel and everything that led up to it. Chief Amiro was strong, but his position meant he could not do everything himself. In such situations, a champion he could trust was of utmost importance. And Rowen''s prowess was such that he could deflect all ridicule and hostility, be they directed at himself or his chief.


    "Come, let us return to the Jukhmahan. Brother has surely tided things over with Father by now," Saro spoke up after giving the two girls a moment. Viyal grew pale at the thought that her actions could have harsh repercussions. Ivakha seemed friendly with her father, but having her daughter punched in the beak in front of so many onlookers was a different matter.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    They climbed the slope together, but Yunil pulled on Saro''s sleeve to slow him down. She waited for Viyal to go ahead before whispering to her brother, "Please teach me how to fight with a spear and ride a Shinoon."


    "Oh, are you finally-" he burst out in surprise, but Yunil quickly covered his mouth. She looked back, but Viyal seemed too deep in thought to have heard him. Saro pushed her hand aside and bent down to the Nokkoy, "I see. You don''t want Sister to find out."


    "The only thing I can be proud of is my body. I want to be strong and fight for her. It''s all I can do," Yunil admitted with a frown.


    "That''s not true. You became the sister she should have had all along. Even if others may not think so, she does. And if you do, too, that''s all that matters," Saro declared with a warm smile. He ruffled Yunil''s hair and started walking again.


    "So, will you teach me?" But the young Nokkoy did not let up and pursued him.


    "If that is your request," he responded without turning around. "But expect no mercy from me."


    Yunil''s face lit up in excitement, and she quickly followed him with her tail swishing left and right.


    When they returned to the Jukhmahan, Noro stood outside with Altuna. At one point, Tashi had arrived from the Zakhira camp and joined them, perhaps coming to see where Viyal was after waiting for her return. He spoke to Altuna naturally, showing that the Shaankhor were not as prejudiced about Gadat as the other tribes.


    There were no signs of Ivakha''s other children, and the onlookers had long dispersed. The guards standing around the entrances meant the chiefs were still inside. Noro and Altuna had indeed managed to clear up the situation with Amiro and the Snowblood.


    "There she is, our glorious troublemaker," Noro greeted Viyal with a grin.


    "Such a troublesome sister, indeed," Saro agreed with an exaggerated nod. Viyal knew they were teasing her, but she could not muster any resistance since they were right.


    "I apologize again for the real troublemakers, my sister Chambai and her clique. They were born into power but did not learn the decorum that should come with it," Altuna lowered her head and spread her wings in an elegant curtsy.


    Viyal wondered where she learned said decorum, then. Perhaps it came with age, and those gossipping girls were too young to be taught the gravitas one should have as the child of a great chief. Altuna seemed to notice her questioning gaze and chuckled audibly, although her face did not have the same ability to emote as the more human-looking species of this world.


    "All my sisters consider me strange for reading the writings of the Gadat," she admitted, glancing at Tashi. Perhaps that was why they could hit it off. "But our people could learn much from them."


    The steppe tribes mostly had oral traditions. The only writing they did was for religious texts of Azakhal, usually in the form of embroidery. Each tribe had its symbolic flag and a banner with a passage from the scriptures. The warriors had protective charms stitched into their padded vests or carved onto their weapons. But that was the extent of the usefulness of the written language for unorganized tribes.


    There were no guilds, no education systems, no governments. Without money, there was no need for bookkeeping either. The steppe people never needed to write in their daily lives and passed everything down through word of mouth. Viyal learned reading and writing from her mother but had never needed them in her daily life.


    "I agree." She nodded in response to Altuna. "I believe writing played a great part in the Gadat building an empire larger than the entire steppe."


    "And in its civil wars," added Tashi with a distant look. Viyal glanced at him but decided not to ask. The monkey boy had not once talked about his past and the circumstances leading to his joining the Chotul tribe as the sole member of his people. And at such a young age at that. He was likely a refugee from the civil war, one who could not return even after it had finally ended. The side he belonged to perhaps no longer existed.


    "It would indeed aid in war," Altuna said, not picking up on Tashi''s deprecating tone. "A written message will always be more accurate than a spoken one. It could be useful for this coalition where the tribes must coordinate over long distances."


    Viyal was surprised by the Shuva''s insight. It was obvious to her, but she had memories of a world far more advanced than this one. Surely, it was rare for the steppe people to produce somebody like Altuna, who looked beyond the shackles of tradition and prejudice against the Gadat. She had the wisdom to see the value in something regardless of who created it.


    "Please tell me more about it over a meal," Viyal extended a hand toward Altuna and offered. So far, she had only ever observed people who acted within the confines of the tribal mindset. There was ingenuity born from necessity, but she saw no drive to innovate beyond what tradition prescribed.


    Yunil furrowed her brow at Viyal for being so friendly with a Shuva, but she would not question her decision. She exchanged a glance with Tashi, who only shrugged. Noro and Saro watched their little sister making a new friend with warm smiles.


    Viyal spent much time with Altuna over the next two days. The Shuva girl spoke of many concepts that were familiar to her but unheard of on the steppe. Shizuru had to hold herself back from revealing knowledge from her past life. Once she was in a position of power, she would no longer have to hide it. For now, she was happy to have met someone interested in improving the tribal lifestyle.


    In the evening of the second day, an uproar in the streets interrupted their discussion about the benefits of a monetary system. Viyal and Altuna peeked outside questioningly, and Tashi came by to explain, "The Ishtemur have arrived. Well, not quite, but you''ll see."


    "Where is Yunil?" Viyal wondered, putting his ominous words aside for now. She had scarcely seen the young Nokkoy around over the past two days. Was she jealous that she spent so much time with Altuna?


    "She will join us shortly," Tashi said, scratching behind his ear and looking away. Viyal knew he was hiding something or perhaps keeping a secret for Yunil. She did not pursue the matter, knowing that her sister would eventually tell her.


    They followed the stream of people toward the Jukhmahan, curious onlookers who heard something interesting would happen. Unlike the Shaankhor''s arrival, the chiefs had not received prior notice to welcome the Ishtemur. Viyal thought it strange that their rivals would not demand an equal, if not even more lavish, reception.


    When they reached the Jukhmahan and pushed their way past the gathered people, they found a group of six men in lamellar armor worn under dusty capes. Viyal could see brown fur peeking out from underneath their Gadat helmets. But their hunch-backed statures did not resemble Tashi''s at all; they were a little shorter than Noro and Saro but more muscular.


    One of the strangers turned to look at the surrounding people, and it became clear they were Selemur warriors. This individual''s robust snout displayed the features they were best known for: Massive curved canines that extended well beyond their lower jaws. Viyal thought they were perhaps best described as bipedal saber-toothed cats.


    "Bring out the Snowblood and the other chiefs," roared their leader, the largest of the pack.


    "Be aware that this is the Jukhmahan. Do not cause trouble here," said one of the Shuva guards in front of the tent. She was half a head shorter than the Selemur and likely weighed only a third as much, but her glare was stalwart.


    Before the Selemur leader could rebut her, the tent flap was drawn aside, and Amiro emerged with Ivakha and the other chiefs. His expression was severe, consternation mixed with confusion. He had known the Ishtemur would arrive today, but he had expected their entire tribe to make a grand entrance as the Shaankhor did.


    "Who are you to call me out so frivolously, cur?" Chief Ivakha demanded to know. She stood slightly taller than the Selemur leader, but only because of the wooden stands she used for shoes. Her white feathers contrasted his dusty cape and unpolished lamellar armor, looking like a fragile flower before a steel-capped boot.


    "I am Tadai, sixth son of Chief Khaguran of the Ishtemur," the leader responded in a dangerous growl. "I bring the gathered chiefs this message: You have decided to join with the Shaankhor weaklings, so don''t expect the Ishtemur to be part of your coalition."


    A murmur ran through the onlookers. Some of the chiefs were shocked by this proclamation, but Amiro maintained a calm exterior. Ivakha glared down her beak at Tadai with her crimson eyes, then looked over her shoulder with an intimidating glower. She would not let the chiefs even entertain the idea that she could be moved to negotiate with the Ishtemur to change their minds.


    "Do not misunderstand. The Ishtemur will not join the coalition regardless of what the Shaankhor do now. You have made your choice, and we have made ours," Tadai snarled. He then turned away from the chiefs and departed without another word. His five warriors surrounded him and growled at the onlookers, causing them to shy back and make way.


    Viyal finally saw Tadai from up close as he passed by. His muzzle was covered in scars, and his left canine had been replaced with a serrated saber. A metal slide was grafted onto his lower jaw to accommodate the sharp blade. The Gadat armor he wore had seen plenty of battle, and likely so had he.


    She noticed his gaze upon her and shuddered under the amber glare of a predator. It was different from a Mosyv, the apex predator of the steppe. This one showed the malice of the strong looking down on the weak not as food but as playthings. She began to understand why the noble, albeit somewhat conceited Shuva held a rivalry with the Selemur.


    The moment passed, and he continued walking, parting the gathered like the sea wherever his pack went. They disappeared out of sight, and all eyes turned to the chiefs around Amiro and Ivakha. What would they do now?

 Chapter 12 - Coming of Age

    A month passed since the Ishtemur envoy''s earth-shattering announcement. That one of the greatest tribes, both in size and military might, refused to join was a huge blow to the morale of the attending chiefs. Still, with Amiro and Ivakha''s maneuvering, they managed to avoid a dissolution of the coalition before it even began.


    Surprisingly, dozens of other tribes entered Kudaldan then, seeking to participate. They had long been forced to pay tribute to the Ishtemur in the name of protection, and their members were taken to become servants to the much more powerful warrior tribe under the pretense of fostering good relations. Unable to fight back lest they faced destruction, they had silently endured until now.


    Since the Ishtemur were not part of the coalition, they felt emboldened to take action. It was an opportunity to throw off their yoke and find protection under the Shaankhor, who openly opposed the Ishtemur. Perhaps they hoped to stand as a united front against them after the war against the Gadat.


    Viyal could not imagine why her father or any other chief worthy of standing at the top of a large tribe would defer to these bullies. She witnessed him tear apart another Mosyv for engaging in banditry. Was what the Ishtemur did not similar? But even the Shaankhor were willing to cooperate with their rivals in this matter. Perhaps they knew the reality of the Gadat threat and had decided to overlook past grievances for the benefit of all. It was all moot now, though.


    With the coalition''s future built on such shaky foundations, the tribes continued to gather in Kudaldan, growing the city many times beyond its current size. The already bustling paths between the tents became packed with more and more species from all corners of the steppe.


    On the fifth morning of the second month, the rest of the Zakhira tribe, led by Gavro, arrived. Being apart for many months was a normal occurrence on the steppe, so the reunion required no celebrations. The tribe members in Kudaldan came out to greet their friends and family members and helped set up their tents on the outskirts of the city.


    Viyal looked forward to seeing her mother and learning how her cousins were doing. It had been almost half a year since she last saw Lavaro and Layavi, but they had grown much in that time. As a boy, Lavaro already overtook Layavi by quite a margin. They could speak full sentences now, although their vocabulary was still limited.


    "Big Sis!" the twins yelled and waved at Viyal when they saw her. There was no word for cousin in the steppe language. People of the same generation were all brothers and sisters. Shizuru recalled a theory that language shaped people''s perception of things, and she witnessed its effects first-hand. She felt as close to her two young cousins as she did to her brothers.


    "Big sister Viyal!" Despite being apart for so long, they recognized her immediately and even recalled her name. After all, she was the only albino Mosyv they knew.


    "My, how you have grown!" Viyal hugged them as they jumped into her arms. When she looked down their backs, she could see that their scorpion tails were already fully developed. Mosyvvi were truly amazing beings.


    "Father told me you beat up a Shaankhor heir who insulted our tribe. Is that true?" asked Layavi with glittering eyes.


    "Maybe he embellished the story a little," Viyal responded with a wry smile and glanced at Gavro as he talked to Amiro. There was a constant flow of messages between them. Her father must have been quite proud of her to be eager enough to tell him the story through a messenger.


    "Heh, when I grow up, I''m going to beat up all the bad guys who insult us," the young Mosyv boy declared with his small hand balled into a fist and punched the air.


    "That is not what you should be learning from your sister''s actions," Zalavi chastised her son as she approached with Nayavi beside her.


    "Your mother is right. Violence is not an answer to words, regardless of whether they are true or not," Viyal admitted with a knowing nod. "If you are the first to resort to violence, you show that you have no better argument."


    "Oh, my. I see my daughter has grown much in our time apart," Nayavi commented with a warm smile. Viyal could not take credit for saying something she was taught in her previous life and looked aside.


    Lavaro and Layavi separated from her, and she walked over to hug her mother. Viyal felt a hand caressing her hair, and all her thoughts were washed away in the warm embrace. This was a child''s haven, a refuge from the world''s turmoils. At this moment, she was nobody but the daughter of her mother.


    "Let me introduce to you my new friends," Viyal had to tear herself away from sinking deeper into bliss and turned to gesture at Tashi and Altuna standing a distance away with Yunil. "This is Tashi from the Chotul tribe."


    "The lady''s esteemed mother. It is no wonder the daughter is so beautiful when the mother is evidence of nature''s artistry herself," he bowed before Nayavi and expressed his admiration.


    "My, what a smooth talker," she said, waving her hand in feigned embarrassment. Viyal''s face contorted, but she was slow in chastising him. A fist came down on the top of Tashi''s lowered head, knocking him into the dirt.


    "What are you saying to my wife?" Amiro loomed over the monkey boy, who scrambled back up to his feet but did not dare to retort.


    "And this is Altuna, seventh daughter of Ivakha the Snowblood," Viyal ignored Tashi''s bit and gestured at the bird girl. She performed an elegant curtsy in response.


    "Is this the Shaankhor heir you beat up?" Lavaro asked, looking Altuna up and down suspiciously.


    "If it had been me, I would have easily avoided the attack," the Shuva said in a matter-of-fact tone. Her bird features always made it hard to tell her feelings, but Viyal felt a hint of smugness behind those reddish-brown eyes.


    "Oh, are you saying I''m too weak to hit you?" she inquired in a dangerous tone.


    "Indeed. I have seen your training. You are surprisingly weak for a Mosyv," Altuna did not sense Viyal''s irritation and answered truthfully.


    "I''ll show you weak!" Viyal leaped at the bird girl, but her mother held her back by the collar.


    "Where are your brothers?" she asked, a hint of worry in her voice.


    "They said they are preparing something and will join us shortly. They must know that with your arrival, we can finally hold their coming-of-age ceremony," Amiro answered in Viyal''s stead and gestured for everybody to follow him. "Come, let us prepare then."


    Everybody turned to leave, but Nayavi and Viyal remained to look at Yunil standing in the back. The young Nokkoy had her gaze lowered and seemed to want to disappear. Despite always being by Viyal''s side, Lavaro and Layavi had not recognized her. In their young minds, she was not a part of their family.


    "What are you doing?" Nayavi waved her over. "Come here."


    Yunil looked up to see her adoptive mother''s warm smile, and her expression faltered. She understood that even if the other family members stopped treating her as one of them, Viyal and her mother would never do so. She gingerly walked forward to take Nayavi''s extended hand.


    They entered the chief''s tent, the first to be set up by the tribe, where Nayavi and Zalavi began to rummage through their belongings, looking for something. They opened locked chests Viyal had never seen them touch before, producing trinkets and strips of cloth while discussing their history merrily. They appeared to be objects to be used in the coming-of-age ceremony.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    She watched them curiously, but the twins soon drew her attention away. Lavaro presented a childish spear dance he practiced secretly, and Layavi eagerly showed off her first weaving and embroidery attempts. They were already taking their first steps toward fulfilling their prophecies. Lavaro would become a hero to drive the Gadat out of the steppe for three generations. A hero of the steppe always led from the front, so he needed to at least live up to his father''s prowess. Layavi would weave a tapestry that would become the steppe people''s flag. She started early, but there was still a long way to go before her artistry could be recognized by all.


    "Should we be here?" Tashi whispered to Altuna.


    "I don''t see why not. They invited us," responded the young Shuva. Viyal overheard them and chuckled. Over the past month, she learned that Altuna lacked the ability to interpret nuance in speech and behavior. She took everything at face value and could only understand metaphors when they were explained to her. Meanwhile, Tashi was surprisingly sensitive despite being an idiot whenever Viyal was involved. They balanced each other out quite well.


    "Consider yourselves part of the family. Just like he is," she turned around and whispered to them, then gestured at Rowen, who silently sat in the shadow apart from the family. They were startled to find that he was there; his presence went entirely unnoticed as he had not moved once since they sat down in the tent. He resembled a suit of armor on display.


    "They have arrived," came the voice of an attendant from outside the tent.


    "Summon the Takheleh," Amiro ordered, and the person on the other side acknowledged it before stepping away. Then he turned back to his wife and her sister, who were off in their own world, speaking of the items strewn across their laps. "Have you found the fitting items?"


    "Oh, we cannot choose so quickly for such an important occasion," answered Nayavi.


    "There are only so many things to choose from. Get on with it," said Amiro with his brow furrowed.


    "This matter requires great care. You don''t want your sons to be found lacking in Azakhal''s eyes," Nayavi fired back. Amiro could only sigh and shake his head. Viyal smiled at their interaction; some things were the same no matter the world or culture. She knew that one''s coming of age was an intimate ceremony only attended by the family and the Takheleh overseeing the proceedings. The trinkets and fine cloth strips were offerings to Azakhal rather than to show off wealth.


    The tent flap was suddenly pushed aside, and cool, fresh air rolled in. Not even the Takheleh would dare enter the chief''s tent uninvited, so the identity of the shadows against the bright midday sun outside could only belong to Noro and Saro. They stood in the doorway and looked anxious, wearing expressions Viyal had never seen on them before. They stepped inside and greeted everybody like ill-prepared students about to hold a presentation.


    "Please meet Savira," Noro said and stepped aside.


    "And Vayari," Saro added and did the same. They revealed two Mosyvvi girls who had quietly entered behind them. The female twins had their hair braided back tightly and wore beautiful dark green silken dresses. When they performed curtsies, one could tell their bodies were trained for battle.


    "It is an honor to meet Noro and Saro''s family," Savira said with a confident smile, showing off her pearly white teeth.


    "I thought they were luring us into their camp to kidnap us," Vayari joked with a smug glance at Saro.


    Gavro suddenly stood up and bridged the distance to the two girls, who stared up at the towering Mosyv with shocked expressions. But they did not shy back and stood their ground, waiting for him to speak. He scrutinized them from top to bottom, glanced past their shoulders at the scorpion tails standing up in a defensive position, and looked deep into their eyes.


    "Good," he declared and patted their shoulders in approval.


    "What are you doing, Brother?" Amiro shook his head and pulled on Gavro''s tail. Viyal chuckled as her uncle spun around in surprise and made way for his elder brother. "I welcome you into our tent, Savira, Vayari."


    It was the steppe people''s traditional way of inviting somebody into one''s home, but under the circumstances, one could interpret it as him welcoming them into the family. Viyal could not help but think that way, considering who these two girls were. Her brothers had been courting them the moment their tribe arrived two weeks ago. It was a surprise that they were already at the point of introducing them to the family, though.


    Marriage was a far quicker and smoother deal in this world than in her previous life. When life was short, one could not waste time on small details. Still, everybody involved required their parents'' approval since one had to consider the political implications of a union between the children of chiefs.


    "They are the youngest daughters of Chief Zagaro of the Sakhatul tribe," Noro explained as he guided Savira into the midst of the tent.


    "Chief Zagaro is old and was never blessed with male children, so he wishes for this union to be not only between us but our tribes," added Saro as he did the same with Vayari. They sat down together and faced the rest of the family with stern expressions. Clearly, they were serious about these girls.


    "Leaving that aside, are they who occupy your hearts?" Amiro waved off the political talk and inquired in a firm tone. He did not address anybody in particular; it was a question for all four of them to ponder.


    "Yes," they immediately responded in a choir, then looked at each other in pleasant surprise.


    Viyal felt her chest fill with warmth at the sight. Twins seemingly sharing a soul was something she had seen plenty in fiction, but the reality was not always so beautiful. In her previous life, there used to be twins in the student council who would argue over every little thing. It got to the point their work was impacted, and Shizuru had to kick them out. Two pairs of twins being of one heart in matters of love could only be considered a miracle.


    The rest of her family recognized that fact, too. The twins Amiro and Gavro marrying the twins Nayavi and Zalavi was not nearly as perfect a match as this one. Viyal learned that Zalavi initially despised Gavro while her mother was already deeply in love with his brother. Only after he courted her for nearly a year did she learn to appreciate his good qualities and start to reciprocate his feelings. That was part of the reason they had waited so long to have their first children.


    Given that Chief Zagaro seemed to have already approved, all that remained was for the boys to come of age. It was one of the many cultural things Viyal was critical of; the steppe people only cared if the man was an adult. Girls of any age could be married off, although there was at least a law under Azakhal that they had to be of age to consummate the marriage.


    And as if it was a sign from Azakhal, today was their coming-of-age ceremony. At this point, nobody had any right to deny their union. It could only be considered a match made in heaven.


    "Chief, the Takheleh has arrived," said a voice from outside the tent.


    "That was quick," commented Savira and Vayari with dubious looks at Noro and Saro. "Did you bring us here to hold the marriage ceremony right away?"


    "Worry not. I am here for the two boys, for they become men today," said the elderly Takheleh as she entered, leaning on her staff heavily. As before, she wore a painted paper mask, although it looked different from the one used during divinations.


    The two girls stared at Noro and Saro in surprise, then hugged them tightly. They were delighted to learn that they could get married soon. Then, they remembered where they were and quickly separated from the boys. Everybody watched their interaction warmly; one could easily see that they were deeply in love from the way they looked at each other.


    "I see that you have prepared all the offerings. Shall we begin, then?" the Takheleh said, producing a small box from inside the folds of her robes.


    "Should we really be here?" Tashi leaned forward and whispered into Viyal''s ear.


    "I don''t see why not," she responded with a shrug. The ceremony was usually held among the family, but they often brought close friends to witness them.


    Tashi seemed overwhelmed by the treatment and lowered his head. The Chotul tribe had accepted him as one of their own, but he was still an outsider to their customs. He was moved by the young lady letting him into her family circle so readily. His initial impression of her had not been wrong; she was a radiant figure, and not only because of her albino nature.


    "Should we not wait outside?" wondered Savira on the other side of the tent.


    "Your parents may have accepted us, but we are still strangers to the family," Vayari added, glancing at the young twins staring at them curiously.


    "What are you saying? You are already part of the family," declared Gavro loudly with his arms crossed. Such was his volume that nobody could muster the matching energy to deny him. But nobody would, either way.


    Savira and Vayari glanced across the faces of the gathered, then looked up at their lovers. The smiles they received caused them to avert their gazes and cover their reddening cheeks.


    "May we begin?" inquired the Takheleh while rattling her box, pulling everybody from the fluffy mood. Her face was hidden by the paper mask, but Viyal believed to glean a smile from the old lady''s tone. It seemed that even the esteemed soothsayer of the tribe was not above being swept along by the beauty of young love.


    The Takheleh opened the box and took out a pinch of dust from one of the compartments. She scattered it into the fireplace, and the flames crackled. Viyal felt a sense of familiarity from the smoky smell underneath the herbal scent as it spread throughout the tent. But before she could search her memories, the old soothsayer knocked the butt of her staff on the floor and rattled the metal trinkets hanging from it. The ceremony began. "May Azakhal be among us as we witness this moment."

 Chapter 13 - Union

    Two weeks later, the marriage between the oldest sons of the Zakhira chief and the youngest daughters of the Sakhatul chief was announced to all of Kudaldan. At roughly the same time, the proclamation of the coalition''s final goals and the date when it would set out to war was made across the city, and riders were sent in every direction to inform the rest of the steppe. The capital was engulfed in the spirit of a new beginning, a departure for a brighter future.


    There was more to this marriage than the union of two pairs. The Sakhatul tribe, roughly half the size of the Zakhira, moved their camp from the other side of Kudaldan and set it up next to theirs. Once the ceremony was concluded, they would join as one, and the Zakhira would grow to match the size of a great tribe. It was then up to Chief Amiro to make it as powerful as one.


    Over the past weeks, Viyal became acquainted with the Sakhatul people. They were as colorful as the Zakhira, consisting of various species living in harmony under their chief, Zagaro. He was an elderly Mosyv with a completely gray mane, and his face was a map of wrinkles and scars. His narrow eyes gave him a sleepy appearance, but there was a sharp glint of life in them. Despite his wizened visage, his body still filled out his clothes, and his arms and legs were bulging with muscles. Even in his fifties, the old Mosyv remained at an incredible level of physical fitness.


    Zagaro''s twin brother died in battle, and his wife passed when giving birth to Savira and Vayari. All his other family members had already left the nest or passed on. If not for his martial prowess, their tribe would have been taken over by outside Mosyvvi long ago. He thwarted every challenge so far, knowing that the men to defeat him would take his beloved daughters as their wives even if it were against their will.


    But Savira and Vayari finally found their destined ones. When Chief Zagaro saw how serious they were about each other, he had nothing more to say. As if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, his formerly harsh demeanor turned warm and caring. He already eagerly anticipated seeing his grandchildren.


    Viyal felt like she had gained a grandfather but was reminded again that life moved faster for many species in this world. Shizuru''s parents had already pushed their late forties when she was still a year away from her high school graduation. Meanwhile, Amiro and Nayavi were only a little over twenty years old. Her brothers, who were about to marry and found their own families, were about to turn ten. She had long since discarded her human logic, but sometimes, she still considered the absurdity of it all as if viewing it from an outside perspective.


    Yunil stared at the absentminded Viyal with her head tilted and one of her floppy ears raised slightly. They sat outside their family tent, where Nayavi and Zalavi helped dress up Noro and Saro, listening to the voices inside while watching the coming and going of the people in the camp. The Sakhatul tribesmen greeted the Zakhira with words and gifts as part of the wedding ceremony tonight. Was her sister perhaps thinking of her own future?


    When Viyal noticed Yunil''s gaze, she smiled wryly. Here was another example: A humanoid dog a little over four years old, looking like a teenager with the energy to match. If she knew her thoughts, she would surely be bothered.


    "What is it?" Yunil wondered, confused by her sister''s expression.


    "When can you tell me what you do every day?" Viyal asked to change the topic.


    "Soon," said Yunil, averting her gaze. She ran off somewhere every morning and came back exhausted and covered in dirt in the evening. But it was not hard to imagine what she was hiding. There were only so many things one could do in this world that would leave one in her state. Viyal had the awareness not to let Yunil know that she had already seen through it.


    "What are you two doing out here?" Gavro approached the two girls and asked with a toothy grin. "Should you not be in there with the women to help dress up the boys in pretty clothes?"


    "I have no eye for those things," responded Viyal truthfully, earning a raised eyebrow from her uncle. He knew she was interested in politics and military affairs far more than the things that moved girls of her age.


    "Well, how about taking a ride with your uncle to see the warriors'' preparation, then?" He extended a hand toward her and smiled invitingly. The two tribes would parade the newlyweds through the camp and perform a traditional show on horseback on the plains outside afterward. Since they were connected to the tent city of Kudaldan, that meant marching through its entirety to show off the wealth of their tribe.


    "Oh, I''d like that," Viyal took Gavro''s hand and let herself get pulled up. He easily lifted her into his arms and placed her onto his right shoulder. She nestled into his bushy mane contentedly.


    "How about you, Yunil?" He extended his other hand at the young Nokkoy, but she stood up on her own and nodded shyly. She had entered that age where she became overly self-conscious and felt too tall to ride on someone''s shoulders.


    Not thinking anything of it, Gavro carried his niece through the camp toward the Shinoona pen. Most were either in use or had been taken over the hills to graze since the vicinity of Kudaldan was largely barren. Only a few dozen remained here, mounts for the important people in case they needed to get somewhere fast.


    Gavro placed Viyal onto the saddle and climbed on after. He then turned to look at Yunil, who had never ridden a Shinoon before and used to run beside the riders on her own two feet. To his surprise, she picked out a mount for herself and jumped on swiftly. It stepped in place nervously, but she quickly got it under control.


    Viyal chuckled knowingly; this was what she knew Yunil had hidden from her for the past while. And there was likely much more than just learning to ride since she showed how capable she was at it already. Clearly, falling off a Shinoon was not the reason she came back covered in dirt and bruises every evening.


    Yunil gave Viyal a questioning look, then realized that she revealed part of her secret training and averted her gaze in embarrassment. Gavro smiled warmly at the two girls and turned his Shinoon around toward the pen''s exit. The Nokkoy followed him closely, showing her talent at directing her mount after only learning to ride for less than two months.


    They rode out of the camp and soon saw a gathering of some of the two tribes'' elders on top of a hill, seemingly holding a picnic. Gavro jumped off his Shinoon and helped Viyal down. They crested the hill, and she found that the elders were watching the warriors'' preparations on the other side.


    Odaron was among them, smoking a pipe and sitting beside a Jagul woman from the Sakhatul who looked even older than he did. She turned her head slowly and revealed a face with more wrinkles and folds than an unmade bed. Her eyes and mouth were barely visible, but Viyal sensed her gaze on her when they approached.


    "This is Daruna, an honored elder of the Sakhatul," Odaron introduced the wizened woman when he noticed the young Mosyv''s questioning expression.


    "The Omen Child," Daruna muttered, raising one of her bushy white eyebrows slightly to reveal the sunken eye underneath. Her surprisingly sharp glare was fixated on Viyal, who shrunk underneath it. She felt her heart racing. How did she know?


    "No, that is Viyal, daughter of the Zakhira chief," another Sakhatul elder corrected her patiently. "Don''t mind her. She has been senile for a long time now."


    Daruna''s eyebrow dropped again as she turned away, her toothless mouth moving as if chewing on something and mumbling incoherently. Viyal stared at her, suppressing any emotions from showing on her face. It was unlikely that her secret had been spread since only her parents and the monks of the Temple of Time knew it. But was it really just her senile ramblings?The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "How does it look? Are they getting ready?" Thankfully, Gavro changed the topic. He looked across the field where the warriors of the two tribes rode alongside each other and waved their spears in an elaborate dance as if fighting each other.


    "Both tribes have observed the tradition countless times. No need to worry," responded Odaron with a laugh, stroking his long white beard thoughtfully.


    "Yes, but this is the largest ceremony we''ve ever had. And it''s going to be seen by the entire coalition," Gavro voiced his concerns, scratching his mane.


    "It''s alright. The preparations are all done," said a Bavadi elder reassuringly, laughing at the Mosyv''s incessant worrying.


    "This will be the largest marriage ceremony since the Snowblood''s," an elder of the Sakhatul tribe added with a proud expression. "With this, we are growing into one of the greatest tribes of the steppe."


    Ivakha the Snowblood made a show of the Shaankhor might by calling countless tribes to Kudaldan and holding her lavish marriage ceremony under their watchful gazes. The Zakhira and Sakhatul union was not quite the same since they only happened to be in this city when their heirs fell for each other. Still, as one of the major driving forces behind this historic coalition, Amiro needed to make a statement that he could stand on the same stage as the Shaankhor chief.


    "It''s only natural. Brother was always destined for such greatness," declared Gavro proudly. Viyal looked up at her uncle warmly; he was such a great brother, supporting Amiro with all his heart and not asking for anything in return. She then lowered her gaze and considered that she would have been born with a sibling like that if she had not eaten them. Blinking her eyes a few times, she pushed the thought out of her mind and looked at Yunil. No, she had her sister right here.


    "It is truly a sight to behold," Odaron said, blowing smoke from his nose. He gestured at the field below where the riders separated into two camps, turned their Shinoona around, and charged at each other for the climax of the show. Viyal watched in wonder as they stood on their saddles and jumped past each other onto the mounts of their counterparts. Not one person fell or crashed. It was a show of skill like no other.


    "Impressive, isn''t it?" Gavro noticed Viyal''s amazement and stroked her hair. She nodded, her mouth hanging open as the riders turned around one more time and repeated the feat as if once was not enough to impress. They then tossed down their padded spears and cheered as one, a sign that the two sides reconciled after the battle. The two tribes became a family after setting aside their differences.


    Of course, there had been no enmity between the Zakhira and the Sakhatul. They had not even known each other until a month ago. It was the steppe people''s tradition, a reminder of their wartorn past and the relative peace they had achieved through tribal unions and their collective belief in Azakhal.


    "The brides and grooms are ready," a messenger came by on a Shinoona and announced. The elders stood up from their seat cushions, and their attendants quickly cleaned up after them as they slowly made their way back toward the camp. Gavro remained with Viyal and Yunil, watching the warriors gather at the bottom of the hill and sing each other''s praises. The Sakhatul unit''s leader separated from them and climbed the slope to meet Gavro. She was Yava, a female Khevelir, a species of lizard people the current Akhma Merkheleh belonged to. She stood almost as tall as the Mosyv but had a wiry physique.


    "Your warriors are excellent," Yava asserted with a nod. Lizard people did not have the facial muscles to smile, but her tone was warm.


    "And so are yours," Gavro returned the compliment. He then addressed the warriors gathered at the bottom of the hill, looking up at their leaders expectantly. "Well done! You will make your tribes proud today! And when we ride against the Gadat, I have no doubt that you will make all of the steppe people proud!"


    They let out a thunderous roar at his praise and encouragement. Then, they quickly organized into ranks and rode back toward the camp. Gavro lifted Viyal onto his Shinoon and climbed up afterward. He noticed Yava''s gaze on his niece and raised an eyebrow.


    "Oh, don''t mind me. It is my first time seeing a Mosyv born of moonlight," she explained to him, but her piercing yellow stare remained on the albino Mosyv for a moment longer before she finally tore herself away and turned around.


    Viyal wondered how many Mosyvvi existed in general, considering they had no tribes of their own. Judging by the number of chiefs gathered in Kudaldan and how many among them were of her species, perhaps she was the only albino Mosyv currently in existence. Compounding on her rarity was her being born an only child, too. Was that why Daruna thought she was the Omen Child? Was the combination of traits she exhibited part of a prophecy only the eldest of the steppe people knew?


    With these thoughts swirling in her mind, Viyal did not even notice that they had already returned to their tent, where Gavro helped her off the Shinoon. Right then, Noro and Saro emerged in full wedding regalia, pushed outside by Nayavi and Zalavi because they were too shy to leave the safety of their tent.


    They wore the traditional wedding robes in bright orange, featuring golden threads at the joints and hems. A Zanyema, large red flowers symbolic of love and prosperity, adorned their chests. Their unruly manes were held back by orange headbands with a phrase praying to Azakhal for happiness and fortune embroidered on them in black.


    "Hey, you look even better than your father and I did at our wedding," commented Gavro. The Tekhema tribe, at their greatest, was much smaller than the Zakhira at their smallest, so they did not have the wealth to spend on fine clothes. It was a sign of how far they had come in life to be able to provide the next generation with the best garbs available on the steppe. "You are growing up to be men among men!"


    "Where is Father?" inquired the twins with bashful looks, trying to change the topic.


    "He is with the Sakhatul chief," Gavro responded and gestured behind them. "You will ride to pick up your brides from their tent."


    Two attendants brought the twins'' Shinoona, now with bright red lacquered saddles, large orange tassels dangling from their necks, and red cloth strips hanging down almost all the way to the ground from their antlers. The two boys stared with their mouths open. They had seen plenty of marriages among the Zakhira, but this was the most lavish one yet.


    Gavro helped Nayavi and Zalavi onto their cart, then placed Lavaro and Layavi in their laps. Viyal and Yunil mounted their own Shinoona, and they departed for the other side of their camp to pick up the brides. Along the way, Tashi joined them silently on his mount, nodding gratefully for being allowed to attend as a member of the parade rather than a mere onlooker.


    All eyes were on the grooms as they passed by. Some of the Zakhira tribesmen handed them small earthen cups filled with wine to wet their courage. Others threw flowers in their path, paving their way toward a colorful future. With this reception, their initial embarrassment soon grew into self-confidence, and they rode with their heads held high.


    As they approached the Sakhatul chief''s tent, now cleared of all the surrounding abodes, an attendant announced their arrival. A moment later, Amiro and Zagaro emerged from within and held open the tent flap for the brides. They were equally dressed in bright orange garbs, and their hair tied back with ornaments woven from single thick red strings. On their breasts sat a Zanyema each to match the grooms.


    Traditionally, the mother would symbolically hand over the bride while the groom''s father pushed his son into her arms. Savira and Vayari''s mother could not take the role, so Zagaro had to do it as their only family. He took them by each of his rugged hands and walked with them toward Noro and Saro, who got off their Shinoona and met them halfway. When they stood before the gray chief, his overbearing presence seemed to press down on them. But he broke out into a warm smile and let go of his daughters'' hands.


    Amiro came around behind his sons, put a hand on their shoulders, and squeezed them reassuringly. They looked back at their father, then at the brides standing before them with their hands outstretched in expectation. A light push from behind, and they were let go. The coming-of-age ceremony meant they were adults. But marriage meant that they were truly ready to leave the nest.


    As the couples embraced each other, the gathered onlookers from both tribes broke out in thunderous cheers. Flower petals danced on the breeze. Hundreds of Shajina, gourds filled with pebbles, a traditional instrument of all steppe people, were rattled wildly. Shinoona hide drums were beaten without rhythm, a sign of the drummers'' unbridled elation.


    Several attendants brought over the bridal cart. It was richly ornamented with small orange flowers and trailing red bands. All of it was done so no one could miss who the brides and grooms were. The Shinoona ridden by Noro and Saro were hitched to it and would draw them through Kudaldan.


    The two boys lifted their girls onto the carts and climbed up after them. They sat on the single bench and looked around expectantly. The drums suddenly ceased, then began again shortly after, sounding in a slow rhythm. The Shajina were rolled to create the sound of wind rustling the grass of the steppe. A loud bang rang out, and everybody let out a collective howl.


    Riders flooded the camp: The Zakhira and Sakhatul warriors who were to form the parade arrived. They raised their padded spears, now adorned with red tassels, in salute to the brides and grooms. Amiro and Zagaro mounted their Shinoona, and the two chiefs led the parade out of the camp toward Kudaldan. Their people followed them while trilling at the top of their lungs as if trying to announce the joyous occasion to the whole world and Azakhal above.


    Viyal was pulled along by the atmosphere and joined in with her voice, surprised at herself. Yunil let go of her inhibitions, too, howling toward the sky. Today, they celebrated the greatest day in the lives of their brothers.

 Chapter 14 - March to War

    On the sixth day after the Zakhira and the Sakhatul''s union, the coalition broke camp and set out for the Sunrise Lowlands. It looked as if the entire city of Kudaldan was packed up as countless steppe merchants joined the tribes heading to war. Only the foreign traders remained, leaving the capital of the steppe only a small gathering of tents with the towering Jukhmahan in the center.


    More tribes joined them as they traveled, swelling their ranks further. Since it was akin to a mass migration rather than a military march, their progress was slow enough for smaller tribes to catch up to them. It would be around a month before they reached the southern regions of the Sunrise Lowlands, where they could see the Zarukhan Mountain Range, which marked the Omagala Empire''s northern borders.


    Viyal stood up on her Shinoon and looked around in awe. The new Zakhira with the Sakhatul under them came second in the procession after the Shaankhor. Thus, she could see the overwhelming ranks of Shuva traveling before them as they disappeared over the hills in the distance. When she looked back, the countless tribes of the coalition extended beyond the horizon.


    They counted over a hundred thousand people, with roughly a third of them warriors. It was a massive number for the steppe people, but Tashi had warned her that it was nothing compared to what the Omagala Empire''s factions fielded against each other in their civil war. This was not an army to take on the entire empire. Their goal was to drive the expeditionary force back in one fell swoop so they would think twice about invading the steppe again.


    Yunil sped up her Shinoon and came up beside Viyal. Her bushy tail swished left and right, a giddy smile on her face. Morale in the coalition was high, and she was affected by it. The feeling of might in numbers gave her a sense of self-confidence and pride. Viyal watched in amusement, wondering if she would start howling again to give voice to her emotions.


    But she knew that the young Nokkoy would not join the fighting. She had been secretly training with the other young warriors of the tribe, but she was still too young to go to war. Tashi would obviously not fight, either. As a Gadat, nobody would trust him to be resolute when it mattered. He himself agreed that attachment to his people would likely hamper him.


    Altuna traveled with her tribe. Most of her elder sisters would all lead troops into battle, but she was not yet of age. Depending on how long this campaign lasted, she could perhaps grow into it and be given command. In either case, they would likely not see each other much during the war. And once the coalition dissolved and all the tribes returned to their seasonal routes, they could perhaps not meet again for years on end.


    Viyal hoped to maintain a good relationship with her for the future when she was old enough to begin her true path in life. As the seventh daughter, it was highly unlikely for Altuna to become the Shaankhor chief, but as a member of the ruling family, she held some influence over the tribe. Surely, she would need to forge an even larger coalition than this one to conquer the Omagala Empire on her path to fulfilling her prophecy.


    The rolling hills of the steppe soon smoothened out into increasingly larger regions of almost entirely flat terrain. The temperature grew milder the farther southeast they traveled, even though summer had already passed. Even when it rained did it not sting on the skin like in the lands of the Zakhira migratory route. Viyal guessed that the empire''s warmer climate was how it developed a farming culture that could support its now massive population. It was something tribal societies could not achieve in the harsher north.


    Viyal learned much about the empire from Tashi. Its original name was Ono Miang La, the Land of Plenty, and the majority species were the Sama Gachin, called Samagshin by the steppe people, to which Tashi belonged. It counted over a hundred other species among its population, although most of them were considered second-class citizens.


    Many of the empire''s feudal lords traced their bloodlines back to the age of the gods, justifying the power they held as divine mandates. Chief among them was the emperor, who claimed direct descent from their principal god, Thao Woq, the Ruler of the Heavens and the Earth. Civil wars erupted every few decades or centuries between these feudal lords. They fought to control the next young emperor whenever the succession was in question and then married their family into the imperial household. Some wars took only a few years, but the most recent one lasted for almost a century.


    The new emperor already looked outward for expansion despite emerging from a long war that doubtlessly depleted the nation''s population. It was a testament to the ambition of the winner of this struggle, be it the one now sitting on the throne or whoever controlled them from the shadows. But it was the one chance for the steppe people to drive the Gadat back when they were still weak.


    To Tashi''s surprise, Viyal even expressed interest in learning the Omagala language. He wondered why she would want to speak the language of the enemy they were on the way to fight. Even the Shaankhor, who traded with the Gadat, did not bother to learn anything beyond the most basic forms of communication.


    "Because a wise man once said, know yourself and know your enemy, and you will win every battle." Her answer was puzzling to her family members who overheard; they did not know any such wise man. She had to deflect and explain that she learned it from one of the scrolls Altuna showed her.


    Thus, a relaxed month passed on the road, and the Zarukhan Mountain Range peeked over the distant horizon. The temperature was mild for the time of the year, and wild grains flourished here. It was no wonder the Omagala Empire eyed this fertile land, which the steppe tribes only used for grazing. If all of this were converted into farmland, it would boost the empire''s ability to feed its people immensely and, in turn, grow its military for further expansion. It is what Viyal would do in their position.


    Around noon on the third day after, messengers rode down the procession and reported that the Shaankhor decided to make camp ahead of them. Their scouts discovered the earthen forts the Gadat set up in their last incursion and found several more along a small river. They were a sixthday away as the Shinoon galloped, so the civilian population would remain here for when the warriors headed out to battle.


    "Why can''t I come with you?!" Viyal stomped her feet and played up her spoiled princess act before her father as he stepped out of his tent. The Zakhira tribe had finished setting up their camp not long ago and finally received word from Chief Ivakha to head out. They were going to survey the surrounding land and discuss how to assault the earthen forts, and Viyal wanted to join them. To fulfill her prophecy, she needed to witness every aspect of warfare first-hand and as early as possible.


    "Because it could be dangerous," Amiro turned around and responded with a stalwart expression. He would not budge this time.


    "You''re only going to scout out the enemy from afar. What dangers could there be?" Surprisingly, Gavro came to Viyal''s aid. "We all know she''s far more interested in those things than playing hoops with the other girls her age."


    Amiro furrowed his brow, then glanced at Nayavi. Viyal understood his concern and knew he could not ask his wife for help outright. Their daughter''s prophecy said she would die before she turned thirteen or live to conquer the world. She had yet to see her sixth thawing season, and they were now entering the reach of a powerful enemy. It was only natural to be more cautious.


    "You may join us on the next outing," Amiro conceded with a sigh. He would make sure the area was safe before bringing her along. Viyal could live with that and reluctantly gave up.


    "You are quite the spoiled brat," came a familiar voice from behind as Amiro rode off with his entourage. Viyal turned around to find Altuna approaching with a towering Shuva she had never seen before.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    "I would prefer to call it a viable method of achieving what I want," the young Mosyv declared with her arms crossed. Then she gestured at Altuna''s attendant or perhaps bodyguard. "Who may this be?"


    "She''s Toragan. My mother appointed her as my new combat tutor," the Shaankhor princess explained, pointing at the spear Toragan carried. The towering Shuva was an outlier within her species. She was over a head taller and had shorter wing and tail feathers than her peers. Meanwhile, her beak was thicker and curved downward into a sharp point. One could think her a hybrid between a Shuva and a Hyarul. "I know what you may be thinking, but her mother did not breed with a Hyarul."


    Toragan stared at her charge with clear disapproval in her eyes; as always, Altuna lacked tact. Viyal shook her head and sighed. The Shuva princess was smart in every other way, but she spoke her mind too freely. Nobody around her age liked being around a person who spoke her mind unabashedly. Only Viyal could become friends with her since she was the same, except she knew to hold back when it mattered.


    "What did you come here to do?" she asked, exchanging a meaningful glance with Toragan.


    "Do I need a reason to visit my friend?" Altuna wondered with her head tilted.


    Viyal''s eyebrows shot up, and she smiled. "No, if you had not come, I would have gone to see you. We need to use our limited time together well."


    "Your father instructed me to continue your archery lessons, young lady," Soroca walked up to Viyal and declared. She had been waiting on the sidelines and decided that the time was right to bring down her mood.


    "Can I not skip for a day? It has been a while since I last spoke to Altuna," Viyal tried to talk her way out of her obligation, knowing it was futile. Soroca had a strong sense of duty, and teaching the chief''s daughter was the greatest duty in her eyes.


    "That is alright. I can join you in your lessons. Perhaps I could learn something from a Bavadi," Altuna said innocently, seemingly not understanding that it could only be taken as words of belittlement. Shuva valued archery over any other form of combat, so they were naturally considered the greatest marksmen of the steppe. As one of the Shaankhor chief''s daughters, she surely enjoyed the greatest education in it.


    "Very well. But please do not distract each other during the lesson." Soroca did not comment on Altuna''s thoughtless statement and nodded curtly. She walked ahead, expecting Viyal to follow. The young Mosyv looked at the instructor''s back and realized that perhaps she was as much a pain in her ass as Altuna was in Toragan''s.


    The archery range was set up facing in the direction of the Zarukhan Mountain Range. It almost felt symbolic to shoot at where the Gadat came from. But Viyal showed once again that she had no talent for the bow, as every shot missed no matter how well she tried to line it up. Her body was not yet that of an adult, but her bow was not at the draw weight used in war either. It showed that she likely would never become as good a shot as her peers.


    Meanwhile, Altuna was comfortably shooting at thrown targets. She wielded one of the Shuva signature composite longbows, almost twice the length of those used by other steppe tribes. Only they, with access to Hyarul leg bones and sinew, could construct these. And they made sure to keep it within their people. After all, their draw weight and penetrative power were unparalleled, and they could even punch through the Gadat lamellar armor.


    "I cannot watch this," commented Altuna when she saw Viyal miss her stationary target once again. Even after Soroca patiently corrected her stance again and again, she could not get it right. "How can a Mosyv be this weak?"


    "Hey, I''m decent with the spear," Viyal shot back.


    "I''ll be the judge of that," the Shuva declared, her eyes showing that she was serious. Viyal glanced at Soroca, who sighed and waved her off. She did not gain the ambition to improve herself after witnessing her friend showing off far superior skills for the past few hours. Even if she could not say it outright, perhaps the chief''s daughter was a lost cause.


    Thus released from her archery training early, Viyal guided Altuna to the training grounds where the young adults of the tribe practiced under the watchful eye of Jederal, the Zakhira''s one-eyed spear instructor. Rausama physiology made it difficult to fight from the back of a mount, so they learned to use the spear on the ground better than any other species.


    Viyal was about to call out to him when she noticed Yunil standing in the middle of the field while surrounded by four young warriors: Two Bavadi, a Jagul, and a Rausam. She seemed relaxed, with her quarterstaff over her shoulders, while they aimed theirs at her with deep concentration in their eyes. On a silent signal, they charged from all directions at once. The Nokkoy pivoted the staff around her neck and swung it in a wide arc, dissuading the attackers coming from behind and the left.


    In the same motion, she lunged forward, barely avoiding a thrust aimed at her midsection, and struck one of the Bavadi on the shoulder. The other Bavadi aimed low at her feet, but she stepped on the quarterstaff, which caused him to let go of it in surprise. With one quick swing, he was down, too. With an almost dance-like spin, Yunil thrust her weapon to her left and caught it at the very base, increasing her range immensely. It hit the young Jagul warrior in the knee, striking him out.


    Finally, only the Rausam remained. His stocky physique gave Yunil the range advantage, and he understood that fact. He tried to get closer, but she circled him and kept him at a distance. Jederal bared his sharp teeth in disapproval as he watched her play with her opponent. "Yunil! Take it seriously and finish it!"


    "I am! I''m practicing my footwork!" the young Nokkoy looked at him and argued. Her Rausam opponent took the opportunity to thrust his staff at her, but she knocked it aside with her own and struck him in the broad chest. He dropped his weapon and collapsed to his knee, gasping for air.


    Yunil did a double take and noticed Viyal and Altuna watching her from behind Jederal. She looked around in a panic, then threw down her quarterstaff and acted like she just happened to be standing in the middle of the training grounds surrounded by four downed warriors. Viyal stared at her with an eyebrow raised. Had her sister always been this clumsy?


    "I request a sparring match, Yunil!" Altuna chirped across the field, pointing her wing at the young Nokkoy as she walked toward them gingerly. It would appear that witnessing her dispatch her four sparring partners so one-sidedly stirred something in the Shaankhor princess.


    Yunil was frozen to the spot and glanced at Viyal with a confused expression. She had already revealed too much in front of her sister but now hoped she would get her out of this situation. Viyal would do no such thing. Fighting four young warriors in training was one thing; facing Altuna, the strongest Shuva in her age group, was another. She wanted to see how far Yunil had come in her not-so-secret training.


    "That is a brilliant idea," Viyal acted dumb and declared with a bright smile. Her sister''s expression of betrayal elicited a sliver of remorse in her heart.


    "Fine then." Jederal sighed in resignation. He knew Viyal''s stubbornness too well to argue with her. They were cutting into training time, but anything for the chief''s willful daughter. The one-eyed Rausam then raised his voice and roared across the training grounds, "Make space for the young ladies!"


    "You didn''t need to do that. It''s not meant to be a show match," Viyal put a hand on Jederal''s arm and said with an apologetic expression.


    "Oh, no, that''s fine. I''m interested to see how a Shaankhor princess does against our little prodigy," the Rausam said with a boisterous laugh.


    "Prodigy, huh?" Viyal looked at Yunil, who averted her gaze in embarrassment.


    One of the young warriors handed Altuna a quarterstaff and stepped away with a curious look. None of them had seen a Shuva fight before. Their hands were large and leathery, but they only had three fingers. How could those handle a spear as well as someone with five fingers that could be articulated individually for better fine control?


    "One strike wins?" Altuna asked as she stepped up to Yunil confidently. The young Nokkoy was too distracted to hear her, glancing at Viyal with an apprehensive look on her face. It caused the Shuva to narrow her eyes in displeasure.


    Without waiting for a signal, she spun her quarterstaff around and brought it down on Yunil''s head from high above. She reacted in time and blocked the strike with her weapon. As if a switch was flipped in the dog girl, her expression grew sharp. Stepping back and taking a stance, she focused her amber eyes on Altuna, and the world receded beyond her notice.


    Yunil thrust her quarterstaff forward and aimed for Altuna''s chest. The Shuva deflected it with the shaft of her weapon and countered with her own thrust. With a twist of her wrist, the Nokkoy directed it off course and swung the tip of her staff up from below to hit the bird girl in her beak. She moved out of the way just in time and swept her weapon horizontally below Yunil''s to strike her elbow, but it, too, was narrowly avoided.


    The exchange lasted only a couple of seconds, but even Viyal could tell that they fought at a high level. Jederal could surely point out where to perform sharper strikes and reduce wasted movements. Still, it reminded her of Rowen''s show duel against Adaro of the Khadarta. If these two children could already fight at this level, how would they improve as they matured?


    A drum suddenly rang out across the Zakhira camp, followed by yells, interrupting the heated duel. Viyal looked around in confusion. She could hear commotions rising in the other camps all around theirs. Jederal recognized the call to arms and bellowed across the training grounds, "Get in gear! War is upon us!"


    It sounded like a general mobilization across the entire coalition. Yunil and Altuna crossed the field and joined Viyal, concern written on their faces. Were they being attacked by the Gadat? What happened to the chiefs who left to survey the land? What happened to her father?

 Chapter 15 - The First Strike

    The coalition member tribes'' combined camps were like a disturbed anthill. Most warriors had been on break, but now they rushed to put on their gear and fetch their mounts. Nobody seemed to know why they were called to battle, but discipline and mental preparedness caused them to move without questioning the situation. If the Gadat were attacking, they needed to be ready to defend their families.


    "I have to return to my tribe," Altuna called out to Viyal. She nodded at Toragan, then let out a high-pitched tweet that rang across the camp. For a moment, there was no response. But then, a commotion of shocked screams approached them. Around a tent appeared two Hyarul, sprinting at full speed, expecting the people in their path to make way. They were Altuna and Toragan''s mounts, following her call. "We shall meet again when we do."


    With these words, the Shaankhor princess climbed onto her Hyarul and rode off, closely followed by her instructor. Viyal watched as they let out warning trills for people to get out of their path until they left her sight.


    "What will we do?" Yunil asked beside her. She looked at her sister and noticed that she had gotten rid of her quarterstaff somewhere. She tried to hide it even now.


    "We''ll talk about you later," Viyal declared with a frown, causing Yunil to shrink under her gaze. "For now, let''s find out what all this is about."


    Thus, she ran through the camp and headed for the Shinoona pen. Surely, her brothers or her uncle would be able to explain the situation. When she reached the busy pen with Yunil, they found Noro and Saro helping Savira and Vayari onto their mounts. They noticed her approaching and frowned.


    "You should not be here," Saro said.


    "You''re too young to head out," Noro added.


    "What''s going on? Where is Father?" Viyal ignored them and asked, out of breath.


    "A messenger arrived telling us to head out fast," Noro responded with a shrug.


    "We don''t know any more than that, either," concluded Saro, climbing onto his Shinoon. They were eager to prove themselves in battle, regardless of what form it took.


    Viyal was suddenly yanked off her feet by her tail before being gently placed onto a Shinoon''s back. She looked back in confusion and found her uncle beside her, showing off a mischievous grin. "You can come and witness our battle. Stay far, and don''t tell your father."


    Her face lit up in joy while Noro and Saro shook their heads in disapproval. Luckily, their mother was not here, or she would have stopped her by any means necessary. But she could not always stay hidden away in the safety of their camp and wait until her thirteenth birthday. Being isolated from the rest of the world would stunt her mental development. Of course, she still had the memories of her past life, so she was plenty grown-up. But if it ever came to it, she would use this argument to get her freedom.


    "Do you know what''s going on, Uncle?" Viyal wondered as she rode next to him. They headed out of the camp to inspect the warriors as they quickly gathered in ranks.


    "I''m about to make an announcement," Gavro responded with a warm smile. He seemed proud that his niece was so interested.


    She patiently waited beside him, watching the riders assemble on the field before them. Noro, Saro, and their wives soon joined them and peered across their combined tribe with pride. Viyal looked around and wondered where Yunil had gone. She had disappeared somewhere along the way. Hopefully, she did not grow a sense of duty and went off to tattle on her to their mother.


    For now, Viyal counted the gathering warriors and eventually projected their numbers to be roughly seven hundred by the time their rapid massing turned into a trickle. When she was only born, the Zakhira barely consisted of five hundred people, and that was including all the civilians. Now, their riders alone surpassed that. They had come a long way in such a short time.


    And she knew these were far from all of them.


    "Hear me, mighty warriors of the Zakhira! We ride to intercept a caravan heading for one of the Gadat forts. They''re slowed down by Ukhara carts laden with supplies for the coming winter," Gavro announced in a booming voice. "The Gadat are preparing to stay. We''re going to show them that they''re not welcome!"


    He raised his spear with a roar, and the warriors followed his example. The thunderous cheer washed over Viyal, and her hair stood on end with tension. She had seen plenty of large gatherings like this in her previous life, but never once had they been of one mind and one heart like this. This was what it meant to lead an army. In time, she would be where her uncle stood, and all eyes would be on her, cheering in her honor.


    Gavro turned his Shinoon around and rode forth, waving his spear high in the air. Viyal barely kept up with him and glanced back, finding the Zakhira army following them eagerly. Yunil suddenly came in from the side on a mount of her own, carrying a proper spear. It looked like she wanted to join the battle.


    "Oh, no, you don''t!" Viyal pointed at it with a glare that left no room for argument.


    "I''m not going to fight!" Yunil looked almost offended. "This is to protect you!"


    "Really?" Viyal narrowed her eyes suspiciously.


    "I will never do something you don''t want, Sister," declared the young Nokkoy, putting her balled fist on the center of her chest. It was the steppe people''s gesture for a promise; should she break it, she would take a spear to the heart without complaint. Viyal understood her conviction and nodded in approval.


    Other armies emerged from the massive coalition camp and joined their forces, waving their banners to signal whose tribes they belonged to. Their numbers swelled to over five thousand in the blink of an eye, a wave of riders rolling across the steppe like the wind. Although they were only attacking a caravan, this army was a show of force.


    Still, it was only a fraction of the coalition army. Most troops were left behind to guard the camp since this was not yet the decisive battle. They needed to show their might for this first strike, but they also had to hide their full strength until the Omagal Empire sent a punitive force. At that time, if they issued twenty thousand soldiers to deal with this situation, the full might of the coalition''s more than thirty thousand riders would charge them down in one fell swoop.


    Viyal had never ridden a Shinoon at full gallop for this long. But traveling on a high like this made time fly in the blink of an eye. Soon, an earthen fort came into view over the horizon. It was a settlement with a wall built from the soil taken from a moat now filled by the river. The wall towered over five meters tall, making an assault without siege weapons impossible. If the Gadat caravan came from the empire to supply it, it would surely approach from beyond. They would have to cross the small river and round the fort to attack the vulnerable procession. At that time, the defenders inside would likely sally forth to intercept them.


    "This is as far as you go, Viyal," Gavro declared and pointed to their right at the tallest hill overlooking the area. The Sunrise Lowlands were mostly flat, so it was barely an elevation worth speaking of, but it would grant her a good view from a safe distance. "Yunil, make sure to keep her there."


    "Understood," the Nokkoy placed her fist on her chest and acknowledged the order. Viyal frowned at that gesture. It was not meant to be used as a salute, but perhaps that was all her sister thought of it. Her promise from earlier rang hollow now.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Viyal and Yunil split up from the advancing army and headed toward the hill. She looked back and noticed a lone rider following them. When he caught up, she realized it was Tashi, wearing the steppe people''s outfit for the first time. So far, he had always made do with his old Gadat clothes, but perhaps there was a shift in his mindset now.


    "What brought on the change?" Viyal wondered when he lined up beside them.


    "I can''t always hold onto my past," he responded with a distant look. Then he scratched his head and smiled wryly. "And they were getting too worn out to be presentable to you, my lady."


    She knew that the former was the true reason, and the latter was to lighten the mood. Although he had yet to tell her of his past, perhaps the time would arrive soon now that he could finally let go. She expected it to be a heavy topic, so it was only right to wait for him to open up on his own.


    They reached the top of the hill and looked across the landscape. In the distance were the eternally snowcapped mountains of the Zarukhan Mountain Range. She finally spotted the caravan, a massive procession that stretched back for hundreds of meters. Viyal could see the Ukhara mentioned in the scouting report. The oxen-like draft animals slowly pulled gigantic carts towering with sacks and barrels. Alongside them walked civilian families pulling hand carts that perhaps carried all their earthly belongings. This was more than a supply caravan; these were settlers sent here by the empire to cultivate the land.


    Viyal peered down and watched the coalition army veer right. A group of riders emerged from the shadow of a small hill and joined up with them. She spotted the gallant figure of her father among them, but there was no sign of Ivakha. Surely, the Snowblood would not join the battle herself, even if she was likely capable of doing so.


    The army rode alongside the river and passed the fort, from which a pillar of smoke rose. It was a signal to warn the caravan in the distance. But it came far too late, as the Ukhara carts could not speed up appreciably even when their drivers cracked their whips desperately. A wave of fear gripped the civilians, but there was nowhere to hide on the wide-open plains.


    Amiro soon directed his Shinoon down the rocky bank. The army followed him into the shallow stream and quickly crossed the only barrier keeping them from reaching the caravan. As if the defenders in the fort realized the inevitable, they blew a horn that carried across the plains with the wind. The southern gate was opened, and a stream of cavalry on horses sporting a single curved horn on their foreheads emerged. However, there were perhaps only a few hundred riders before only infantry issued forth. And even that stream dried up quickly. All in all, there were only a little over two thousand troops.


    Their numbers were obviously inadequate to deal with the steppe army, but they still tried. Viyal looked at Tashi and saw him stare with a disgusted face. The commander in the earthen fort sent out the troops to rescue the caravan even though there was no hope for victory. He was either a fool or desperate beyond measure. And judging by Tashi''s expression, it was the former. He must have seen his share of commanders with no regard for their men, expecting results without understanding the situation.


    The coalition troops were much faster than the Gadat, who had to slow down for their infantry running in full lamellar armor, and left them in their dust. Their aim was the caravan, which had come to a stop and tried to create a defensive wall with their gigantic carts. But the procession was too long and sluggish to form up quickly against the approaching threat. The civilians in their midst ran around like headless chickens while soldiers desperately bellowed commands. It would likely be over before their reinforcements from the fort could reach them.


    "Over there," Tashi pointed to the left and then the right. Smoke rose from over the horizon. The nearby forts had seen the smoke signal and returned the message. Surely, they would send reinforcements, too. But by the time they arrived, it would likely all be long over.


    The wave of steppe riders came into range to shoot their bows at the caravan. At the command of Amiro, relayed by the other chiefs riding at the front of their tribes, the warriors loosed their arrows at full gallop. A rain of deadly projectiles came down on the Gadat, but most survived the first volley by hiding behind their carts.


    The caravan guards returned fire with crossbows, but Viyal breathed a sigh of relief when most fell short or flew over the raiders'' heads. The coalition troops split left and right on the approach and unleashed a barrage of arrows from all sides while riding past the defenders. This time, more shots found their targets, distinguishing not soldiers from civilians, man from beast. Such was the way of the steppe.


    Screams of pain, and shrieks of death, carried by the wind across the steppe, faintly reached Viyal''s ears even from this far. Shizuru had heard about the horrors of war in her time, but she had never witnessed them firsthand. As Viyal, she had seen a few skirmishes between the Zakhira and bandits or other tribes. But this massed combat was something completely different. Within minutes, hundreds of lives were snuffed out, accompanied by the cheers of the assailants as they pressed the attack.


    But she understood that this was necessary. If they did not beat back the Gadat early on, they would carve up the steppe people''s land until they could no longer muster any resistance with their diminished resources. History class taught her that such things occurred aplenty across the globe.


    The coalition army split in two, with one half heading for the Gadat reinforcements coming from the fort. Meanwhile, those who stayed to surround the caravan picked off the remaining defenders from afar. Viyal watched anxiously as her father led the army to engage the enemy soldiers. It was the moment of truth. Fighting caravan guards, often merely mercenaries, was one thing; facing trained soldiers of an empire was on an entirely different level.


    As before, they came into range to unleash their arrows. But unlike the caravan guards, the professional soldiers did not waver. Their cavalry retreated into their center, and shield bearers formed a wall of massive tower shields, creating a fortress on the battlefield. The volley bounced off the steel-plated surfaces harmlessly, upon which the shield wall opened gaps to let crossbowmen shoot back. For the first time in this engagement, Viyal saw steppe warriors fall, struck by a volley of crossbow bolts.


    "They will be all right," Yunil said beside Viyal. She glanced at her sister and realized that she had spoken to convince herself. It would be a cruel joke of fate if her family were to die here.


    She stared intently and focused on the red manes of the Mosyvvi among the steppe warriors. They rode in a circle around the enemy, which settled into a box formation, and released arrow after arrow until they were down to half. Then, they called a retreat to rejoin the unit assaulting the caravan. Viyal could not hear their commands from this far away, but she immediately understood what would happen next.


    The Gadat realized they had weathered the attack with minimal casualties. They wore heavy armor, carried long pikes and halberds, and had impenetrable tower shields. In terms of their equipment, they were clearly superior. And judging by the steppe people''s immediate retreat when their seemingly all-out attack did little damage, greater discipline, too.


    Thus, they took down their impromptu fortress, and the cavalry gave chase. That was when the steppe warriors twisted their upper bodies on top of their mounts and shot backward. Before the Gadat could realize their error, a hail of arrows peppered their riders and the infantry following in their wake. As they retreated in a panic, Amiro directed his troops to turn around and press the attack once more.


    It was the Parthian shot. An army of mounted archers would feign a retreat, baiting the enemy into chasing at full speed. Then, they turned in their saddles and shot backward with an incredibly difficult posture most people would never even consider possible. The pursuers would have no time to react and received a full volley of arrows as they charged.


    Shizuru was the perfect student, so of course, she would remember such things from history class. The steppe people of her world used it throughout history, most often against foreign armies not familiar with their tactics. Even if the enemy knew it was coming, it was hard to defend against unless one gave up chasing retreating armies in general. In the heat of the battle, such decisions were quite difficult and required a level-headed commander.


    The Gadat commander, it would appear, had been shot off his mount and trampled under the hooves of his troops. With their leader gone, the soldiers were thrown into a full rout. The shield bearers threw down their heavy shields and ran back toward the now seemingly infinitely distant earthen fort as arrows claimed their comrades left and right. Viyal almost felt sorry for the enemy as she watched the steppe warriors pick them off unhindered, first with arrows and then with spears. Amiro led a detachment and circled around to cut off their path back to the fort and, with it, any chance of survival.


    In the other engagement, the caravan defenses had been overrun, and the steppe people boldly rode through the gaps in the giant carts. They began plundering the Ukhara carts while the civilians dropped their belongings and scattered in every direction, running for their lives. Some riders gave chase and captured them with Gokhe, specialized hooks to catch people and animals alive. They would be sold back to the empire for ransom or become servants in the tribes. Those who offered too much resistance were slaughtered mercilessly.


    Viyal closed her eyes for a moment and offered a silent prayer. Then, she opened them again and seared the sight into her mind. This was the fate of the losers in this world. She was lucky to have been born on this side, born a chosen one. Never would she let her people face such a situation as long as she breathed.


    With this thought, she witnessed the steppe people''s first strike against the Gadat. The war had begun with a bang that would ring all the way to the Omagala Empire''s capital in no time. Swift retribution would follow, and that was what the coalition counted on.

 Chapter 16 - Spoils of War

    The raiding party returned triumphantly, carrying plundered supplies and captured slaves. Cheers rang across the coalition camp and echoed to the skies. The steppe people had achieved an overwhelming victory in their first strike and doubtlessly left a deep impression on the Gadat. Once word reached the distant empire, a punitive force would follow soon. In the meantime, the earthen forts along the unnamed shallow river would not get any more supplies and perhaps had to be abandoned. With a single raid, the steppe people had dealt the empire''s expansion plans a heavy blow.


    Viyal''s family returned as heroes. They led the charge against the Gadat soldiers and routed them long before their reinforcements'' flags even appeared over the horizon. By the time they arrived, all that remained was a field of corpses and burned supplies. Anything the steppe raiders could not carry had been set alight, a sign that they would not leave anything for their enemies.


    The supplies carried back by the Zakhira warriors were distributed among the people, and the prisoners were brought into the middle of the camp. Among the mostly civilian captives were a few soldiers and caravan guards, disarmed and disheveled. Most species from the empire were considerably shorter than those of the steppe. They shivered from head to toe, terrified by their towering captors eyeing them like livestock.


    The majority were not Samagshin like Tashi but instead came from the various minority species, the second-class citizens of the Omagala Empire. Some looked like Tulana, diminutive humanoid rabbits, but with slightly different features from their steppe relatives. There were also goat-like people, doubtlessly related to the Shangra of the western mountains. They were the menial laborers for the Samagshin ruling class; their lives would not change much here compared to how they were treated in the empire.


    But for the few Samagshin among them, mainly the soldiers and perhaps caravan leaders, it would be an unbearable difference. At the worst of times, they were simple citizens. Even those with rather humble backgrounds likely had a servant from among the lesser species in the household. Now, they would be slaves to a people they considered their inferiors.


    Amiro took Viyal by her hand and walked before the Gadat on display. The other tribesmen stepped back to give them space, causing some prisoners to raise their heads slightly and peek at the reason. They saw the towering Mosyv chief and shuddered in terror. Still, they were rooted in place even without restraints, knowing that trying to run would get them killed on the spot.


    "Pick one to serve as your handmaiden," Amiro announced to Viyal, gesturing at a group of young girls huddling together at the end of the lineup. It was always difficult to tell the age of different species, but they were all likely children still. And judging by their simple clothes, servants to the Samagshin who brought them to this land.


    "You would leave your daughter with someone who holds a grudge against our people?" Viyal whispered to her father, eyeing the servant candidates suspiciously. He looked at her in surprise, then bared his sharp teeth in an amused grin.


    "They know that death can come in many forms. If they harmed you or anyone else of our people, it would not come easy for them," he declared, speaking at a deliberately loud volume for the prisoners to hear. Of course, they did not know the steppe language and could not understand him, but his tone was enough to make them flinch. He then lowered his voice and addressed his daughter, "I learned from the Shaankhor. With our tribe''s current size and standing, it is only natural that the chief and his family have servants to tend to the menial tasks they used to do themselves."


    The Zakhira tribe already had servants like any other steppe people. They usually came from defeated tribes, be it captured after a battle or volunteered as tribute. Their tasks mostly consisted of cleaning, fetching water, and various odds and ends around the camp. If Amiro had not pointed them out to her in the past, Viyal would have never even known they were slaves since they seemed to live quite freely among the tribesmen. They even had their own families and children who were born free.


    But the Gadat were different. They had been sent all this way to a foreign land along with their whole families. Families that had been slaughtered before their very eyes by those they were now forced to serve. Viyal was unsure if fear of a torturous death would be enough to keep them from seeking retribution.


    "Trust me, they never dare to resist," Gavro appeared beside his brother and said. "They fear death more than they hate us."


    Perhaps that was the truth. Viyal saw the different kinds of people being chased down as they ran in every direction at the end of the battle. Some faced capture with desperate defiance. Others practically turned into ragdolls when they were caught. Those who did not fear death died on the battlefield; those who would rather die standing than live kneeling had been killed after. The ones left, now shivering before her, would do anything to survive, including serving the murderers of their families.


    She furrowed her brow. This kind of thinking was wholly incompatible with her very essence as a person. Shizuru had been born a chosen one and would have stood above thousands, perhaps even millions, if not for her untimely death. Viyal was destined to stand above billions. She would never grovel, even if her life depended on it.


    "How about this one? Nice and plump. Could make for emergency food," Amiro pointed at a female Shangra who was on the chubby side and spoke half in jest. Of course, he did not believe such an emergency would ever come to pass. The part about treating the poor girl like food was serious, though.


    "We are not eating them," Viyal said, punching her father''s thigh weakly. She then turned to the terrified girls. "We are not eating you."


    "It was a joke," Amiro acted hurt and clicked his tongue. Of course, the captives did not understand anything about their interaction. But seeing the razor-sharp teeth of the Mosyvvi, the young prisoners huddled closer together in fear.


    "To save them from your ravenous appetite, I''ll take them all," Viyal faced her father and declared with her arms crossed. It was her usual spoiled princess stance.


    "Don''t be selfish. They are the tribe''s spoils of war. You can ask for a share because you are my daughter. Become a chief and lead your tribe into battle before you can demand more," he said calmly. He did not play along with her act this time. This was a matter of principle for the steppe people. "But know this. Even the greatest chief cannot demand all the spoils. It would only invite discontent from the warriors who bled for them."


    Viyal stared at her father''s serious expression, then lowered her gaze. She knew that even before making her demand. She just hoped there was a possibility of getting away with it somehow. These girls were still so young and would grow up as servants. They would receive no education and live in constant fear of being mistreated or even killed by their owners. She wanted to spare them of that fate to the best of her abilities.


    "Choose one," Amiro concluded, leaving unspoken that it was more than she rightfully deserved as somebody who did not fight for it. It was his gift to his daughter, a share taken from his share.


    The young Mosyv looked at the girls and felt a pang in her heart. She had steeled herself to the reality of life in this world many times before, but this was not something she could imagine ever getting used to. Once she had conquered the world, she would forbid slavery entirely. But until she had the power to enforce such a dream, all she could do was close her mind to it.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    "This one, then." Viyal channeled her frustration at her powerlessness into acting as if she chose begrudgingly. She pointed at the youngest among them, barely the size of a ten-year-old human girl. She shrunk at the attention and tried to hide behind the others. She had short gray hair in a buzz cut that seamlessly connected with the light brown fur that ran down the back of her neck and disappeared into her collar. Her black eyes were small and beady but round like saucers from fear. A black button nose completed her overall resemblance to a small prey mammal that was always looking over its shoulder for predators.


    Viyal looked around for Tashi but did not see him anywhere. He had walked away silently when they returned from watching the coalition''s battle. He would have been able to translate for her since the little she learned of the empire''s language was insufficient here. Of course, she could not expect him to attend what was essentially a slavery auction featuring his people.


    "Come here. I won''t hurt you." She extended an open palm toward the little girl and made sure to smile without showing her sharp teeth. She lowered her scorpion tail and hid it behind her back to appear as unthreatening as possible.


    To her utter surprise, the other girls pushed her forward as a sacrifice. Viyal caught her as she stumbled, then looked up with a frown that caused them to shy back. They were truly ready to do anything to survive. But in this case, they made the wrong choice. Perhaps they assumed the young Mosyv had picked her for food because she was bite-sized, not knowing that she would treat the little girl better than anybody else in the tribe would treat them.


    "Come," Viyal grasped the girl''s hand softly, and she shirked back.


    "Get on with it," Amiro suddenly demanded, looming over them. "It is getting dark, and the warriors wish to celebrate."


    "Go ahead then," she did not look away from the little girl before her and answered her father. Hearing this, he raised a hand and gave the signal. The gathering of people around them, who had been silently and patiently watching, came in from all sides like water filling a bowl. The whole area erupted in clamor as everybody staked their claims on the best slaves.


    The girl''s head spun left and right, her eyes darting around in terror. Viyal pulled on her hand and guided her through the masses, which naturally parted for the chief''s daughter. She flinched when she noticed Yunil appearing from among the people and following them, but Viyal trudged onward silently and forced her along.


    Finally, they left the busy area of the camp behind them and headed for Tashi''s tent among the Chotul portion at the very rear. The noise of the warriors still arguing over the slaves was barely a background droning here. It was the most likely place Tashi had retreated to after their return.


    "Are you there?" Viyal called out to the monkey boy from outside. She heard rustling inside before the tent flap was opened, and a tired-looking Tashi greeted her with a clearly forced smile. He must have lain in bed and mulled over things.


    "What brings my lady to my humble abode?" he asked with a bow. Then, he noticed the little girl behind her, who tried to hide when she saw a Samagshin. "Who is that?"


    "My new handmaiden. I''ll need you to translate for me." With these words, she walked past him and entered the tent. He shared it with the Tulana family, who seemed to have taken him in as one of their own, but they were out.


    Unlike the more leatherbound furniture of the Zakhira, the Chotul tribe only used plant materials. The seats around the fireplace were woven like baskets, and the beds were made of cloth rather than fur. As a people who lived like the monks dedicated to Azakhal, the Tulana had found ways to survive on the steppe without any animal husbandry.


    Of course, they had nearly been wiped out by a bandit attack, but that could happen to any tribe if they were not strong enough to defend themselves.


    "Now that I get a closer look... she''s a Diao!" Tashi suddenly exclaimed when she stepped into the light of the fire.


    The little girl''s small ears perked up at the mention of her species. Her body shivered, then she yanked her hand out of Viyal''s grip. With surprising nimbleness, she darted past Tashi and tried to run back outside the tent. But Yunil appeared in the doorway and lifted her off the ground by the waist. She froze in the much taller girl''s grasp, understanding that further struggle would only invite punishment or even death.


    "Byao pash. Don''t be afraid," Tashi spoke to her in a calming tone. Yunil placed her back on her feet but remained in the doorway to preempt any further attempt at running away. The monkey boy continued to speak to the little girl in Omagalan to allay her fears. When he pointed at Viyal and said something, she calmed down visibly, and her eyes finally stopped darting around, looking for an alternative exit.


    "What did you tell her?" she wondered.


    "That you''re a gracious mistress who treats even former slaves like family," he responded while avoiding glancing at Yunil. The Nokkoy sniffed at those words but did not comment.


    "So, what is this about her being a Diao? What does that mean?" Viyal changed the topic quickly. The girl''s ears twitched again at the mention of the word, and she stared at her intently with her beady black eyes.


    "The Diao used to be a primitive tribe living in the heartlands of the empire. They were enslaved centuries ago and now serve as... entertainment for the wealthy," Tashi explained, wearing an expression of disgust. He noticed Viyal''s horrified look and realized he made a mistake. "Oh, no, not that kind. Sama Gachin would never even look at one of the people they consider lesser beings in that way. The Diao are made to fight each other to the death for entertainment. Since they have become rather rare, it is a status symbol to be able to host-"


    "Enough," Viyal interrupted him; she had heard enough. She looked at the little Diao girl and furrowed her brow. Why was a prized species here, this far from the empire''s heartlands? Perhaps one of the people in the caravan had been a wealthy merchant or landlord who relocated here with his entire entourage. Then came another thought. "Does that mean Diao are good fighters?"


    "They are, in a way," responded Tashi tentatively. "They don''t grow much taller than she is now, but their bodies are incredibly sturdy. That''s why they''re only ever pitted against each other. And when they enter a frenzy, few species can stop them without sustaining grievous injuries."


    Rather than small prey mammals, the Diao were more like wolverines. Viyal wondered if this little one could perhaps take her on, but she was not keen on finding out. In fact, she would prefer it if this poor girl never had to fight for her life ever again. That thought alone threatened to overwhelm her emotions, and she grabbed the little Diao to hug her close. She did not struggle and remained stiff as a board, fearful of the sudden touch. Viyal separated from her quickly, realizing that it only caused her more anxiety, and instead asked, "What is your name?"


    "Nimins?" Tashi translated. The girl looked between him and Viyal wide-eyed before averting her gaze. Perhaps nobody had ever bothered to learn her name before. She opened her mouth slightly, then closed it again without making a sound.


    "Tell her she can speak freely with us," Viyal said, realizing that she likely had been taught never to talk to her owner. Tashi quickly translated for her, causing the little Diao to look up in confusion.


    "Mamai," she finally responded in a hoarse voice before covering her mouth and looking back down fearfully. It sounded like she had not spoken in years, and perhaps that was even the awful truth. Seeing it made Viyal want to hug her again, but given her earlier reaction, it was better to give her some space for now.


    She caressed Mamai''s cheek and lifted her face so they locked eyes. With the best reassuring expression she could muster, she spoke, "Stay with me, and I will keep you safe."


    As Tashi translated for her, Viyal did not break eye contact. She tried to convey her true feelings through her gaze, understanding that this little girl would likely not be able to trust her that easily. Her people had been abused for centuries. She had been taken from her parents at a young age and brought to this foreign land. And now, she became the slave of a people she had never seen before. It would take a long time and a lot of work on Viyal''s part before she could open up to her.


    "This is what they meant, huh?" Yunil muttered with a sigh. She was referring to how Viyal rescued her from being sold as a slave or even as food long ago. The Zakhira had whispered behind her back that she acted ill-befitting a chief''s daughter, treating servants as people when nobody else ever did. Who had she learned such strange behavior from, they always wondered.


    "Come, let me wash you and change you into fresh clothes," Viyal did not hear her sister''s comment and took Mamai by her hand to leave the tent. Tashi motioned to follow, but she turned to him with her brow furrowed. He raised his hands and stopped, smiling wryly.


    Yunil stepped out of the doorway and watched her sister pull the little Diao along. She felt a twinge of envy in her heart; she had been in that position not too long ago. But she also understood that Viyal did not seek to replace her. It was the same with her friendship with Altuna. Her sister''s heart was large enough to fit all kinds of outcasts. She only hoped that trait would not invite disaster in the future.

 Chapter 17 - Last Days of Peace

    There would be two supply caravans a week for the next two months until winter made traversing the passes of the Zarukhan Mountain Range too precarious for Ukhara carts. With these supplies, the earthen forts marking the new border of the Omagala Empire would develop their infrastructure throughout the winter and start expanding the farmlands in the following spring. That had been the original plan.


    However, the steppe people''s raids threw it all into disarray. Not a single caravan made it to its destination, no matter how the fort garrisons tried to combine and maneuver their troops. It left the frontier severely lacking in supplies. Let alone being able to build up the barebones forts into towns, they would not even be able to survive the winter at this rate. Something had to be done.


    Word reached the Omagala Empire''s capital through messenger birds and express riders within a week of the first attack. The decision was swift: A punitive force would be sent to annihilate the steppe raiders in the region, then bolster the local garrison in case of future attacks. Ten thousand troops set out from the capital, reinforced by twenty thousand more from various cities along the way to the north. The army was projected to arrive within a month.


    The coalition of the steppe learned all this from several messengers they captured coming and going from the border fortresses. Thirty thousand was more than they had anticipated, but that only meant the two sides were even. However, they fought on the steppe people''s homeland, wide open plains with unlimited space for their mounted archers to maneuver. It would merely be a repeat of the first clash against the fort garrison.


    When Viyal heard the news, she was not as optimistic. The coalition forces'' losses had been quite minimal so far, but that was only because of their superior numbers and the weakness of the enemy. This time, they would doubtlessly face a veteran general who had been honed in the fires of the empire''s civil war. While the individual quality of their soldiers was higher, they would still incur heavy losses in an all-out battle.


    She sat with Altuna outside her family''s tent and discussed war plans independently from the chiefs since they were too young to join the real strategy meetings. However, they knew that these days, the coalition leaders mostly engaged in feasts at the expense of the supply caravans they raided. As expected, even prudent leaders grew complacent through repeated easy victories.


    "There really isn''t much to say about the region. It''s almost all flat land with few hills to hide large numbers behind," Altuna explained, waving her wing across the map of the region she secretly made a copy of and brought with her.


    "We would see them coming from over the horizon," added Viyal with a thoughtful frown.


    "But the same goes for the enemy. We can''t ambush them." Altuna sighed and closed her eyes.


    "Mobility is still the most important. Even with few numbers, we would be able to chip away at them out on the field." Viyal placed a blank arrow shaft beyond the perfectly smooth rocks that symbolized the earthen forts along the river. The arrow represented the Gadat army during their march, a long procession traveling in a straight line. Then she dropped a handful of pebbles all around the arrow. "Strike them from the sides with detachments and attack in waves."


    Mamai placed two cups of sweetened milk and dried and sugared meat snacks on the table beside the two girls, but they did not even notice her presence. They were so engrossed in their discussion that they did not have time to eat or drink all day. The little Diao stood by them silently, her eyes darting every which way nervously whenever her ears picked up a sound of camp life nearby.


    "That would be the best, but if they see our side coming from afar, won''t they form up into a wide formation before we get close enough?" Altuna argued and turned the arrow sideways. The sizes of the armies were obviously not to scale compared to the map, but it was an acceptable visualization of how the battlefield would evolve.


    Viyal looked at the line of pebbles facing the long arrow. From the battle they witnessed, the Gadat preferred to fight defensively and stay in formation. The overeager garrison commander broke up his mobile fortress to chase after the mounted archers feigning retreat, which resulted in a catastrophic rout and total annihilation. He had given up his one advantage over the steppe people due to ignorance and hubris.


    They could not expect the same from a veteran general who was used to leading in the field. If the two armies met out in the open, the Gadat would remain in their heavy shield formations and pick off any approaching riders with their crossbows while weathering the hail of arrows until it ran out. Once that happened, the coalition could either retreat and restock their ammunition or attempt to engage in melee combat.


    "It''s difficult," commented Altuna, letting her sharp gaze sweep across the map. She knew the warriors of the steppe better than Viyal. They would see their leaders as weak if they retreated from a passive enemy.


    "Why did it have to be equal numbers," Viyal complained futilely. A direct clash would only result in unacceptable losses for the coalition. They faced an enemy who was better equipped and had an entire nation of potential reinforcements behind them. The steppe people needed an overwhelming victory against their elite. Only then would the flood of Gadat invaders cease. To do that, they had to leverage the only advantage over the Gadat they had: Mobility.


    Their thoughts went in circles. Viyal wondered what the chiefs'' plan was, but they did not reveal anything outside their meetings. Not a single person from the steppe would betray their own people, but Gadat spies could have already infiltrated the coalition camp. They were no longer in their small tribal units where everybody knew each other. People from different tribes came through the Zakhira''s camp on a daily basis. Who could tell if one among them was an enemy spy?


    "What are you doing?" asked Tashi as he approached with Yunil in the late afternoon. Judging by their wet hair, they did some sparring and washed themselves afterward. At this point, the Nokkoy no longer hid it from Viyal and showed off her prowess in several training sessions. At her rate of growth, she could become one of the strongest warriors among the Zakhira in a few years.


    "Despairing," Viyal responded with a sigh.


    "Worrying about things you can''t affect, you mean?" Yunil said, glancing at the map on the table between Altuna and her sister. Then she pushed aside the tent flap and looked inside before turning around and furrowing her brow. "Where are Lavaro and Layavi?"


    "Huh?" Viyal''s heart skipped a beat, and she jumped up from her seat. Yunil kept the tent flap open for her as she ran inside and looked around with increasing horror. Her mother and Aunt Zalavi had gone to the coalition market and left the twins in her care for the day. She had entertained them until Altuna came by and then sat outside with her for their serious discussions. It would appear they had slipped away unnoticed and gone off on their own.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    "It should be fine," said Altuna with a shrug, but Viyal did not share her lack of concern. Her aunt had given her a task, so if anything happened to the twins, even something as minor as tripping and chafing a knee, it was on her.


    "Did you see where they went?" Viyal asked Mamai, but the little Diao did not understand and only shrunk under her intensity. Seeing this, she calmed herself and took a deep breath.


    "What''s the big deal? Everybody here knows who they are. No harm will come to them," argued Yunil. She remembered running around the camp with her sister when they were still only toddlers. Their parents had let them roam free, knowing the tribe would look after them.


    "It''s not just the Zakhira anymore. There are a lot of strangers coming through!" Viyal flared up, taking her sister by surprise. Then she looked at everybody and requested, "Help me find them."


    "We knew you would notice and panic about now," the familiar voices of Savira and Vayari called out to her in unison. She spun around and found her brothers'' wives approaching, carrying one of the twins on their backs each. They were fast asleep, likely exhausted from playing all day.


    "Thank you for looking after them." Viyal sighed in relief. "How did they end up with you?"


    "We found them wandering close to the training grounds," explained  Savira, causing Viyal''s face to go even whiter than it already was. She looked over her shoulder at Lavaro and continued, "This little rascal was pulling his sister along to watch the warriors even though she said it was dangerous."


    The training ground had riders training in mounted combat. The thought that her little cousins could have been trampled by Shinoona due to her carelessness twisted Viyal''s guts. Vayari saw her expression and smiled wryly.


    "Nothing happened, so everything is fine. If you need help taking care of them next time, do tell us," she said, shifting Layavi''s weight on her back.


    "Thank you so much for keeping them safe. Oh. Please come in and unload them," noticing her rudeness, Viyal held the tent flap open for her sisters-in-law and invited them in. They nodded with warm smiles and walked inside to put them down on their beds. Tashi quickly helped start a fire to illuminate and heat the room as the sun was about to set. Their family would return soon, so they needed to prepare a warm home to welcome.


    Savira set up tea on the fireplace while Viyal asked Vayari to help with the cooking preparations. Mamai stood next to them and made sure to learn their every move. As the handmaiden, it would soon be expected of her to do these tasks. Yunil and Altuna watched from the sidelines, one too clumsy to cook and the other too coddled to ever have learned it. Soon, a warm atmosphere and the delicious smell of food spread through the large tent.


    Usually, the wives cooked the meals while their husbands were out. It was rare for Nayavi and Zalavi to be out and enjoy some time off, so Viyal felt like surprising them with this. The chief''s family could also have somebody cook for them on the camp grill, most often Mannogur since he had the best secret seasoning. But after thinking about matters of war for the whole day, Viyal wanted to distract herself with some menial tasks.


    "What is this? A warm meal waiting for us?" Nayavi and Zalavi opened the tent flap and wondered. They carried baskets filled with food and snacks from the coalition market. The traditional Zakhira meal cooked by the children would be complemented with specialties from various other tribes.


    When they were about finished with the preparations, the tent flap was opened again, and cool air streamed inside. But on it was a familiar scent. It was Amiro and Gavro, returning directly from the gathering of chiefs. They were surprised by the veritable feast, then picked up on the hints and gestures from their wives that it was not their achievement. It only increased their consideration of this meal.


    "You smell of wine," Viyal commented with a frown, addressing her father. She knew her mother would not reprimand her husband for feasting with the other chiefs since it was considered normal when spending time among peers. But she was piqued by their complacency while the children worried about the future.


    "And you reek of unnecessary worry," Amiro responded with an exaggerated sniff. He ruffled Viyal''s hair and sat down beside his wife before pulling his daughter onto his lap. "I see that you have been spending all day thinking about the coming battles."


    Viyal leaned back against her father''s muscular chest but froze at those words. Then, she remembered that they left the map on the table outside. He must have seen it before entering the tent. She looked at Mamai, who flinched under her gaze but did not understand the reason for it. She could not expect the little Diao to clean up after them yet. Then she glanced at Altuna with a meaningful furrowing of her brow, but the Shuva did not grasp the signal and tilted her head quizzically.


    "What do you think about joining our next strategy council?" But to Viyal''s surprise, Amiro suggested this instead of admonishing her. Before she could misunderstand, he quickly added, "Strictly as an observer, of course."


    "Would I really be allowed inside?" she peered up at her father with a questioning expression, suppressing the urge to cry out in joy. She would love nothing more than to hear the plans of the chiefs and hopefully gain peace of mind after learning that they had everything figured out.


    "You are the coalition co-leader''s daughter. The world currently revolves around him and the Snowblood," Gavro chimed in, reassuring his niece with a grin. "The other chiefs will listen when he demands it."


    Viyal looked between her uncle and her father, then nodded in understanding. She thought nothing of what would have constituted an abuse of power in her previous life. What was the point if one made it to a position of power and did not use it for their own benefit? If an opportunity presented itself, she would speak up about an idea she had regarding how to handle the empire''s punitive force.


    "I know what you are thinking," Amiro growled and ruffled Viyal''s hair again.


    "I don''t know what you are talking about, Father," she said, blinking her eyes innocently and feigning ignorance.


    The tent flap was opened again, and in came Noro and Saro. They held the doorway open for Zagaro. The twins must have returned home but found their tent empty before judging that the whole family was gathered here. When the elderly Mosyv saw his daughters, his usually harsh mien softened into a warm gaze. His dense gray beard covered his lips, but he was doubtlessly smiling underneath it.


    The whole Mosyv family was gathered now. Shizuru recalled her cold home in the large Akashi estate. Her meals were held alone in the large dining room at the oversized table, accompanied only by a silent maid waiting on her. Compared to that lavish lifestyle with all the best amenities money could buy, tribal life was harsh and inconvenient.


    But now, after years of living as Viyal, she understood what happiness truly meant. She would not trade this loving family for anything in this or the past world. If her prophecy of world conquest meant she would lose them, she would rather not have it.


    "Where is Rowen?" Viyal suddenly realized and looked around the tent. Sometimes, he would sit silently in a dark corner and look like an inanimate suit of armor put on display. However, today, there was no sign of him.


    "Rowen, come inside. The princess asks for you," Noro and Saro called out toward the tent door, smirking all the while. A moment later, it was brushed aside, and the old knight peered inside almost gingerly. He had been waiting outside like a mere guard, seemingly considering himself nothing more than a sword of the chief''s family. Even now, he needed an explicit invitation and would not come and go naturally like Tashi and Altuna already did.


    "The family would not be complete without you," Viyal stood up and declared, extending a hand toward him. He took it and bowed deeply.


    "You are too kind, young lady," he said, sounding genuinely moved.


    "Now, let us eat," Amiro clapped his hands and announced joyously.


    Viyal watched her family begin the meal, chatting about their day. Forgotten was the fact they were here for war. It almost felt like they were transported back to their seasonal migratory route. And soon, it would be like that again. They would beat back the Gadat and return to their peaceful steppe life. Viyal would grow up, celebrate her thirteenth birthday, and begin her path toward world conquest in due time.


    She smiled at the thought, not knowing that this was the last time her whole family would be together like this.

 Chapter 18 - Punitive Force

    Viyal''s chance to join a strategy meeting came a few days later after a group of scouts were captured trying to find the coalition camp. They had been sent from the earthen forts on orders ahead of the general leading the punitive army. Fortunately, they were the garrison soldiers who used numbers to compensate for their lack of specialized training. Not one of them escaped the lookouts, so the location of their camp and the size of their army were still unknown to the Gadat.


    From one particularly talkative scout who boasted about the empire''s approaching victory, they learned the identity of the veteran general. His name was Mong Rau, the Black Beast. He was a Baagai, a bear-like species living in the permafrost of the far north. Mong Rau was the only non-Samagshin currently holding a high military position in the Omagala Empire. He was a veteran of countless battles not only in the civil war but also against the steppe raiders east of the northern Zarukhan Mountain Range, which had a different culture from the steppe people on this side.


    This Black Beast was familiar with the tactics and fighting style of steppe people. If he trained his troops with that knowledge and directed them well on the battlefield, it would be incredibly difficult for the coalition to overcome him even if he commanded lower numbers. Fighting him on an open field was likely suicide when both sides were even, then.


    The strategy meeting was surprisingly levelheaded. The chiefs had been torn from their complacency after learning who they were facing. Now, they debated how to approach the battle against this powerful enemy. Viyal watched from a seat at the edge of the meeting space, observing her father and Chief Ivakha closely as they listened to the various speakers making cases for their ideas. Altuna sat beside her and did the same.


    Kaharon, a Jagul chief, proposed a pinpoint attack focused on taking down the enemy general amidst his troops to break the army''s morale. The Bavadi chief Inalik suggested ranged wave tactics, utilizing their mobility to grind them down from the flanks. Agasahe, the elderly Kandai chief who commanded the Jukhmahan before Amiro arrived, advocated for a careful approach by letting Mong Rau settle down in the earthen forts first before cutting off their supply route and starving them out. In other words, he wanted to continue what they were doing now, even when the enemy matched their numbers.


    "I disagree with all of them," Ivakha the Snowblood suddenly stood up and declared. She then glanced at Amiro, who likely already knew what she was going to say. "We do not know what this Mong Rau looks like, so we cannot aim for him amidst his troops. Furthermore, we cannot face even numbers without knowing his capacity as a commander. Finally, letting him enter those forts and link up with the garrisons is not an option. Because at that point, we will be dealing with over forty thousand troops under his command."


    The three chiefs who spoke up sat silently, waiting for Ivakha to make her suggestion. She paused for a while and looked across the gathered chiefs as if testing their patience. Viyal knew that was a sign of power over others: When you could command their silence simply by making them wait for you to continue speaking.


    "We will split our troops in six and besiege the earthen forts," she finally continued and pointed at the map embroidered onto a giant carpet between the chiefs'' seats. Two of her daughters stood up and moved the thirty carved bone pieces representing the various units of the coalition around. There were a total of twelve earthen forts along the nameless river, so one unit of five thousand would besiege every other fort.


    "Splitting our forces? Is that not unwise?" Agasahe stroked his goatee and shook his head, causing the crystals hanging in his antlers to jingle.


    "And how will we overcome those tall walls? You cannot be suggesting we scale them?" Tobogur, a Rausam chief, chimed in with his deep voice that seemed to vibrate the very air.


    "The sieges are a distraction. We have no intention of taking the forts," Ivakha responded, gesturing for her daughters to distribute the pieces of the Gadat army. "Mong Rau will have to split up his forces into six equal parts to save the garrisons."


    Her daughters moved the Gadat pieces accordingly, placing them in transit toward the sieges. Viyal immediately noticed a flaw in that notion but remained quiet to see if the Snowblood perhaps thought of it herself.


    "We will use our superior mobility to link up and strike the split enemies," explained Ivakha as her daughters gathered up the coalition''s pieces into two large forces to stand against the enemy''s two outermost detachments. "One after another."


    In a sweeping motion, the two coalition armies overran the six enemy armies from two sides and ground down their remnants between them. Viyal furrowed her brow and looked across the other chiefs. They only nodded in assent, expressing how astute Ivakha was to come up with such a strategy. She then stared at her father, who did the same. Did nobody see the issues with this plan, or was she wrong in her assessment? After all, even if she had knowledge from her previous life, it was mostly about history in broad strokes and did not extend to specifics of medieval warfare.


    "You seem to have something to say," Altuna whispered beside her. "Do you see a problem with Mother''s plans?"


    "Do you not?" Viyal responded with an eyebrow raised. The young Shuva stared at her in confusion. "Or perhaps I am overthinking things."


    "No, if you thought of something, it would be best to mention it now. Countless lives depend on it," said Altuna with a severe look. Viyal realized that it was better to be exposed as a fool here than be proven right in the worst possible way later.


    "Please wait," she stood up and requested. Amiro spun his head around in shock while Ivakha turned toward her, seemingly deliberately slowly and menacingly. Her other daughters stared at Viyal with suspicion and hostility. But when they noticed Altuna glaring back at them beside her, their expressions changed into hesitant confusion.


    "This is no place for you to speak, Viyal!" Amiro jumped up and roared, baring his three rows of sharp teeth. She suppressed the urge to flinch under her father''s glare and instead returned it with eyes full of conviction. She would accept any punishment later if she turned out to be wrong.


    "No, let her say her piece," Ivakha surprisingly came to her help, having noticed Altuna''s look beside the young Mosyv.


    "Your plan sounds good, but I noticed a few issues," Viyal finally spoke up, emboldened by the Snowblood''s endorsement. But the Shaankhor chief''s eyes widened into a deathly glare at her choice of words. Gathering her wits, she continued, rattling down her arguments quickly as if expecting to be picked up and tossed out if she wasted too much time. "Firstly, what if the enemy does not split up their forces and strikes one of our detachments with his full army? Secondly, what if they only split into two armies and do the same we have planned but to us? Thirdly, if they do split up, I believe it would be best to gather in the center instead of on the flanks and drive a wedge between their forces so they can''t regroup."


    The chiefs stared at Viyal silently after she finished. Then, they looked at Ivakha to see her reaction. It was clear that none of them had considered these issues, and judging by the Snowblood''s gaze as she looked at the map between them, neither had she. Like beginners in chess, they had thought multiple steps ahead but planned for the enemy to move as they expected.


    "Well said, child," Chief Ivakha finally spoke, breaking the tension in the room. Viyal realized she had been holding her breath and sighed in relief. "It would appear that our complacency runs deep. We should have taken every possibility into account. However, the idea of attacking from two sides instead of splitting them down the middle was mine. I admit that it was too self-assured."This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Everybody nodded in agreement and murmured praise for the Shaankhor chief''s ability to admit her shortcomings. They then returned their focus to Viyal. If she had only been the albino daughter of Amiro, a mere curiosity until now, she now held their full attention as a person. What must her upbringing have been for her to see something nobody else had?


    "What do you suggest we do in the former cases?" Ivakha suddenly asked Viyal. She blinked in surprise, then looked across everybody''s expectant gazes. Her father stared at her sternly but then nodded in approval. There were no wrong answers here; she was still a child. If the adults disagreed, they would disregard her input. But if she had the right answer, this was a chance for her to captivate them all.


    Viyal thought about it for a moment. She was not the child she appeared to be. Behind her youthful face was Akashi Shizuru, an incredible mind that had always scored the highest in all exams. Her logical deduction and analytic prowess had been on a national level. She ran through dozens of simulations within seconds and came to a conclusion. Whether or not her strategy had merit would be decided by those with real experience in war.


    "What if we actually took the Gadat forts?" Viyal began.


    Mong Rau was a massive figure, towering far above anybody else in his army. He sat on a cart pulled by four Doja Shou, one-horned, horse-like animals the Samagshin cavalry rode into battle. There was no mount in the world that could carry the old general, after all. His dense black fur was broken up by countless scars. He had been a simple slave soldier and clawed his way up to general. Now, he led the very species that used to treat him as a lesser creature into battle.


    He saw the four visible frontier fortresses from afar and found two of them under siege. Over the horizon to the northeast and southwest rose four pillars of smoke, signaling a total of six sieges going on simultaneously. Mong  Rau''s commanders urged him to send aid, but he was like the immovable mountains of his long-lost homeland. His mind raced behind his inscrutable expression. He had never seen steppe people earnestly trying to take fortresses before. They had always only made feints to draw in nearby reinforcements and force them to fight on their terms, but this time was different.


    Steppe warriors scaled the walls on ladders, holding up wooden shields to withstand the crossbow fire from the defenders. Large rams were deployed on the south-facing castle gates. The interior seemed to be burning from the flaming projectiles launched by three catapults. Where had the nomads learned to build those? Trees were almost entirely absent on the steppes, so they had no culture of engineering. They knew how to make simple carts, but effective siege engines required experienced carpenters.


    Had they forced captives to build them? Mong Rau knew the average Samagshin was cowardly and lacked loyalty. They would betray their own people if it meant they could live another day. That was the most likely explanation. After all, there were only half a dozen siege engines in total among the two visible armies and perhaps only two dozen distributed across all the besieged forts.


    However, knowing this did not change the fact that he did not understand why the steppe people did it in the first place. Perhaps their chiefs had grown scared after hearing that a massive punitive army had been sent here. They wanted to take all the forts and raze them before this new enemy arrived so that they had no place to stay for the winter and were forced to return.


    If so, they had made some questionable decisions such as splitting up their forces, ensuring slower progress than if they had focused on a single fort with all their siege engines. And they had not sent out scouts to know track Mong Rau''s army, letting him come this close while they were vulnerable.


    Still, the general decided to observe the situation for a while longer, ignoring the urging of his officers to send help immediately. One of the Samagshin officers, Fau Tu, felt that Mong Rau''s inaction was a sign of betrayal toward the empire. He openly accused him of colluding with the northern barbarians because he used to be one himself. When even that provocation did not get the general to move, Fau Tu turned on his Doja Shou to leave and take matters into his own hands with his detachment of two thousand heavy cavalry.


    "If you head out now, I will not even have to execute you for disobedience, for you will not return alive," Mong Rau declared calmly. Fau Tu stopped in his tracks, then turned around with a furious expression. Before he could flare up, the general raised his massive clawed hand and continued, "Have you not read the principles of the great Jun Shuu? Those who rush into battle unprepared when the enemy does something they normally do not are stumbling into a trap."


    The wayward officer was humbled by the general''s knowledge. Although Jun Shuu''s One Hundred and Eight Military Principles was mandatory reading in the empire''s academy, many officers in the current military were either nobles who gained their positions through connections or peasants who achieved greatness in the civil war. Fau Tu was of the former type, who looked down on Mong Rau, who was of the latter.


    Still, Mong Rau had no suggestion of his own for now and could only watch while trying to get a good grasp of the enemy''s numbers. Each earthen fort used to have a garrison of a little over two thousand troops, but they likely had been whittled down to half that number since the steppe people''s raids began. The reports spoke of five thousand enemies, but there were perhaps that many just within his field of view.


    The bear general grumbled to himself, cursing the fact that the scouts never found the enemy camp to assess their total number. He assumed at least twenty thousand steppe warriors in total, with over three thousand for each concurrent siege. It was more than enough to overcome the weakened defenses, even with their lacking experience, and fend off any reinforcements from the adjacent forts. But now would be the perfect time to strike them in the rear and force them to either stand and fight or abandon their siege engines. Surely, they had not been easy to come by, so that alone would be a great blow to them.


    "Hear my command!" Mong Rau stood up from his cart to declare his plan. The officers perked up at this and were at full attention. "Nav Soua, take ten thousand men and circle around from the west. Break the siege at the westernmost fort. Then, take the remaining garrison troops and move on to the next immediately."


    The male Samagshin called Nav Soua responded with a beat of his lamellar cuirass before turning his Doja Shou around and riding off to rally his troops.


    "Fau Tu, take ten thousand men and do the same from the east. Do not chase if they escape. Focus on breaking the sieges in sequence," the general continued, addressing the obstinate Samagshin officer who opposed him only moments ago. He made sure to warn him since he was a hothead who could easily let the heat of the moment get in the way of his judgment. Fau Tu saluted, almost reluctantly, and rode off.


    "What will we do in the center?" asked one of his remaining officers, eagerly awaiting orders. They were itching for battle, either hoping to make a name for themselves or wanting to aid their people in the forts. Mong Rau peered out into the distance and narrowed his dark eyes.


    "We will wait and see what the enemy does," he sat back down and declared calmly.


    "This is exactly what you said would happen," Tashi commented next to Viyal. They were watching the enemy''s movements from a hill beyond the river, just like they had last time. Altuna rode on her Hyarul beside her, staring wide-eyed at the situation unfolding.


    "I hope it keeps going that way," the young Mosyv said, nibbling on her lower lip nervously. She did not even notice when her sharp teeth drew blood.


    "You cut yourself," Yunil extended a hand toward Viyal and wiped her bloody lip with her thumb. "Don''t worry. Our warriors are strong."


    "I''m not worried about that. I hope the enemy does not see through the plan in time," Viyal waved off her sister''s concern and followed the enemy detachment heading west with her eyes. All would depend on what they did when they noticed the ruse.


    After all, the other sieges outside Mong Rau''s view were fake. They had already taken the earthen forts several days ago, making sure not a single soul slipped by their encirclement to report that fact to the general. The pillars of smoke were created by bonfires from inside the empty forts to lure the enemies toward them.


    The thirty thousand warriors of the steppe had been split into two forces, with the smaller detachment of six thousand genuinely besieging the last two remaining forts. Over twenty thousand of them now waited in ambush inside the emptied-out western forts, hiding until the enemy approached. If everything went well, they would annihilate a third of the punitive force with overwhelming numbers. It would swing the war in the steppe people''s favor.


    But it was a potentially dangerous gambit. Mong Rau could notice something amiss and attack the two besieging armies. If the detachment in the east discovered the ruse and returned quickly, everything would be thrown into disarray. They would have taken the forts for nothing and have to face the initial issue of fighting an enemy with equal numbers.


    Even if everything went well, this was still war. The steppe people would not get through this completely unscathed. Viyal could only pray that those close to her would be spared. With such thoughts swirling around her head, she anxiously watched the situation unfold.

 Chapter 19 - Strategy Unraveling

    Mong Rau scratched his chin with one of his long claws and grumbled thoughtfully. The besiegers did not seem to react to his army''s presence despite doubtlessly knowing about his numbers. He knew no steppe people who understood the intricacies of multi-layered strategies. They had an instinct for tactics in the midst of battle, but executing a series of maneuvers to achieve an overarching goal was foreign to them. They needed to see immediate results, or they would not do it. Mong Rau had learned that through many battles against their kind. Yet, he could sense that there was a will behind this siege that went beyond the immediate gain of plundering the contents of the earthen fort.


    That was the reason he remained cautious in the center while his two flanks moved independently. Under normal circumstances, his army could have already overrun the inferior enemy, but these were not normal circumstances. He needed to assess all the risks before he could move out with this army granted to him by the emperor.


    However, Nav Soua did not have such doubts. He charged forth, eager to prove himself and gain recognition so that he might eventually replace the foreign general. When he led his detachment over a hill, he found the westernmost earthen fort surrounded by enemies, and anticipation turned into readiness. That was why he did not realize that they were not genuinely trying to scale the walls and merely drummed up noise to make it look like a siege.


    As his army of ten thousand approached, the barbarians hastily retreated on their mounts, leaving behind their few siege weapons. Nav Soua ordered his troops to secure a perimeter while he approached the battered gate. It was a wonder it had held out until now. Somebody opened it from the inside and let him in even before he gave the command. In his sense of triumph, he did not think it strange and rode inside with his unit.


    Nav Soua rode down the main street toward the town square, noticing that the buildings were in a worse condition than expected. Many buildings had already burnt out, and the roads were covered in debris. But before suspicion about the absence of the fort''s population could arise, he had already reached the square where a large bonfire burned. He blinked his eyes in confusion. This was not a smoke signal; the regulation was to light it from the gatehouse.


    A cheer rose from the walls, and countless people appeared on them. Before Nav Soua could understand the situation, a hail of arrows pelted his unit from all sides. One pierced his neck, and the Samagshin officer fell off his mount. He would not see the ensuing slaughter within the walls while his army outside was beset by the returning steppe warriors, reinforced by the full might of the coalition.


    On the eastern side, Fau Tu found an empty fort with a bonfire burning on its ruined town square. His lookouts reported a few steppe riders escaping into the distance but no signs of an army. The tracks in the hardened mud outside the city suggested the feet that trampled the area had left many days ago.


    Fau Tu was a minor noble who gained his rank through his family''s connections. But even someone with little strategic acumen like him quickly grasped the situation. He sent a messenger on the fastest Doja Shou in his army to inform the general while he led his troops along the river to check the next fort. Still, he already suspected that they were all empty.


    The enemy had clearly lured them into splitting up their numbers. The question was where they would strike with their full force. If there were twenty thousand barbarian warriors, his army would likely be able to hold out until reinforcements from General Mong Rau arrived. So perhaps they targeted the general himself, trying to kill him quickly and remove the head of this punitive force while the two detachments were busy checking the forts one by one.


    That thought caused Fau Tu to reconsider his actions. If the general were killed, he would be able to take command. Of course, he needed to play it right so that his army was not wiped out in the process. If he then defeated the steppe raiders, he would doubtlessly be granted the rank of general. It would bring honor to his family and rid the empire of a barbarian who wormed his way into a high military position in one stroke.


    With these thoughts, he led his troops back toward the center to support the main army. It was a course of action born from greed, but it turned out to be the correct decision to save the punitive force.


    "Damn, it''s too early." Viyal gnashed her teeth when she saw the army that headed east appear over the horizon, ignoring the empty forts along the way. Mong Rau''s main army had moved to support the western detachment, leaving behind roughly a thousand troops as rearguard to delay an immediate pursuit from Chief Tobogur and Commander Yasuca''s armies at the two forts before them. They would be forced to withdraw against the much larger force. At that time, the fresh eastern detachment would be able to link up with Mong Rau and bear down on the coalition army with their full might.


    What had gone wrong? Viyal wondered if perhaps leaving the eastern forts empty had been too ambitious. The enemy must have seen through their strategy the moment they noticed the unattended bonfires and came straight back without checking the other forts. Leaving ambushers inside might have prevented this, but they could not afford to split their army into too many parts.


    No, that was an excuse. She should have treated this like a game of chess and sacrificed some pawns to draw pressure away from the important pieces. However, she could not get over the fact that she was moving real living people. The warriors left in ambush inside the forts would have been surrounded by enemies with no way out and killed off easily after the initial surprise.


    Surely, Amiro or Ivakha would have been able to make that decision. However, they did not have the insight to build on Viyal''s suggestion further, accepting it with barely any adjustments. Well, neither did she; only when the situation unfolded step by step could she see the inadequacies and mistakes in her calculations.


    "We need to warn them," Viyal declared and turned her Shinoon around. Her family was down there fighting and could not see the overall situation. They would be hit in the rear by Mong Rau''s army while still busy with the detachment in the west.


    "No, it''s too dangerous. Send one of the messengers," Yunil stopped her and pointed at the group of warriors Viyal''s father left her with. She remembered that they were no longer here secretly. Amiro had officially endorsed her getting close enough to watch the battle from afar now and assigned a dozen riders to guard her in case the enemy sent soldiers their way.


    "Go, warn my father of the incoming army from the west," Viyal gestured for any of them to deliver the message. They exchanged confused glances before one understood her order and rode off. She then addressed another man, a young Jagul warrior, "Inform Chief Tobogur and Commander Yasuca that the enemy from the west will have to pass through them. It is their decision what to do."


    She was not even an advisor in this battle, so she could only hope they would make the right choice. They could either try to delay the enemy reinforcements through force and buy the coalition''s main army some time or try to lure them away by heading in another direction. The former was guaranteed to work but would result in losses, while the latter meant the enemy could ignore them and continue on their path.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    Viyal anxiously watched the riders head down the hill and turned to Altuna for advice. "What should we do?"


    "There is nothing we can do but pray to Azakhal for the coalition''s success," said the Shaankhor princess, staring off into the distance.


    "We can ride along the river and see for ourselves, at least," suggested Tashi.


    "Yes, let''s go," she responded, gathering her feelings with a nod. This strategy was based on her input, so she had a responsibility to see it through to the end, no matter what form it took. One part of her hoped that her status as a chosen one meant that things would go as she wanted. If the coalition failed here, how was she expected to fulfill her prophecy as the Omen Child in a reasonable amount of time?


    Yunil led the way, carrying her spear at the ready as if expecting enemies to spring forth out of nowhere and ambush them. Viyal followed closely, looking back across the hills and the river to keep Mong Rau''s troops in her view. They traveled much slower than steppe people since they had infantry in their ranks, but it would not matter when they appeared in the rear of an army already locked in battle.


    The two thousand garrison troops were routed within minutes when the coalition dealt the empire its first strike. However, that was against poorly-trained soldiers who ran into a volley of arrows and lost their commander during what seemed like a victorious pursuit. Even if the ambush at the western forts succeeded, ten thousand professional soldiers would not go down that soon.


    Viyal was right in her assumption. The coalition army had fully surrounded the enemy, firing arrows at the empire soldiers from all sides and blocking any path of escape. They were rats caught in a trap, struggling futilely against the inevitable. Still, they numbered several thousand, fighting valiantly to the end.


    The towering shields the empire prided itself in protected them against ranged attacks and direct charges by the mounted steppe warriors. However, whenever they tried to open gaps to shoot back with their crossbows, arrows and spears would find their way inside and claim victims. Thus, all they could do was huddle together, hoping reinforcements would arrive before long.


    Viyal could see the moment the messenger told those in charge about the approaching Mong Rau. A noticeable change went through the coalition army, and two-thirds of it disengaged from the remaining Gadat to gather up in their tribal units. They would not have the same absolute numerical superiority as they did against the western detachment now.


    "What is going on over there?" Altuna looked back and peered across the land with her piercing glare. "Mong Rau has stopped his army. Maybe they think they''re too late."


    "Wouldn''t you normally still try to save those trapped behind enemy lines?" Viyal wondered, earning her a confused look from the Shuva. The idea of leaving nobody behind, even at the cost of sustaining more losses, seemed to be modern thinking. She made a mental note to bury that notion in this world.


    "Our warriors will still take care of them before the reinforcements from the east arrive," declared Altuna with a confident nod.


    "I''m not so sure about that." Viyal did not share her optimistic spirit. Even though the western detachment suffered an ambush, it was able to hold on for this long without being annihilated. However, Mong Rau was wary of the coalition army''s numbers and prepared to face them in the field with a mobile fortress formation from the beginning. He would not be an easy target.


    "Wait, he''s turning around and leaving!" Tashi exclaimed, pulling Viyal from her thoughts. She stared at Mong Rau''s army as it turned on its heel and marched back where it came from. Normally, it would have had to switch around the vanguard, center, and rearguard if it wanted to make a complete turn. However, this veteran general understood that speed was important and sacrificed a degree of army cohesion to achieve that. Now, his vanguard was the rearguard, even if it was less suited for it.


    A lone rider traveled along the river, approaching from the direction Viyal and her group came from. He was a Bavadi on a Shinoon, so they knew he was a messenger of the coalition. The young man noticed them standing on the hill overlooking the area but continued to ride onward along the riverbed. He soon crossed it at a shallow place and headed for the coalition army in the distance.


    Moments later, another rider appeared in his wake. It was the messenger they had sent to Chief Tobogur and Commander Yasuca to warn them of the eastern detachment returning too early. Right as he entered their hearing range, he stood up on his horse and cupped his mouth to inform them, "The chief and commander have decided to face the enemy detachment and delay them!"


    This meant the five thousand troops that were besieging the two forts were now likely already tied up with roughly ten thousand enemies. Perhaps that was the reason Mong Rau turned his forces around. A scout must have informed him of the situation, leading him to force his army to march back so quickly. He would be able to hit Tobogur''s and Yasuca''s forces from the rear and pincer them with overwhelming numbers.


    "And so, the strategy crumbles," Viyal muttered, peering across the land. The coalition''s main army did not know the situation yet, but by the time they were informed, it would be too late to catch up to the enemy before they hit Tobogur and Yasuca in the rear. At that time, they would be forced to commit to an all-out battle to save them. It would be a decisive clash with nearly equal numbers.


    Back at the strategy meeting, Viyal thought Ivakha the Snowblood''s plan was too complex and optimistic in predicting how the enemy would behave. She made this strategy much simpler with that in mind. But reality now taught her that a battlefield was inherently unpredictable. Even though it seemed like the enemy acted within her calculations at first, they made several decisions that now rendered the planned overwhelming victory impossible.


    "What can we do?" She looked between the coalition main army as it continued to form up in anticipation of Mong Rau''s approach. It looked like they would leave around five thousand troops behind to tie down the western detachment''s remnants. It left them with a little over fifteen thousand warriors, still more than enough to deal with the ten thousand enemies they anticipated.


    However, they were unable to see over the hills from their position and did not know that Mong Rau continued to increase the distance to them. It was ever more unlikely for them to catch up before they pincered Tobogur and Yasuca with the eastern detachment. The messenger already rode like the wind, but it would take a bit longer before he arrived to inform them.


    "Nothing," Yunil responded with a downcast gaze. They had a dozen riders, not even a drop in the ocean compared to the enemy. This whole situation had been out of her sister''s hands the moment the strategy meeting ended. "We have to believe that our people will win in the end."


    "We return to prayer," added Altuna, raising her wings to the sky in worship of Azakhal. Unlike most steppe people, she did not let religion cloud her judgment of worldly matters, but at certain times, she would defer to its power over one''s heart.


    "If prayer worked, the world would be a much better place," Viyal argued with a click of her tongue. She noticed the moment the words left her lips that she was lashing out from frustration. Altuna turned to look at her calmly, and Viyal averted her gaze in shame.


    "Let us go and watch. Depending on how things go, we will have to head back first and warn the rest of the coalition," Tashi broke the moment of tension with a suggestion, but it only invited enmity.


    "So you suggest our warriors could lose?" Yunil flared up, baring her fangs.


    "I suggested it first," came unexpected help from Viyal. It caused her sister to look at her in confusion. "Tashi is right. We have to consider every possibility. Not doing so is what got us into this situation."


    "My friend, you will learn today that not everything is a matter of numbers and calculations," Altuna suddenly said with her arms crossed. "Wars are won through momentum. And the momentum is on our side yet."


    She pointed at the coalition army in the distance. It was too far to make out details and recognize individuals, but Viyal imagined seeing her father ride with his sons and Gavro along the front and raising morale with a speech. A moment later, a collective movement ran through the army, and a monumental cheer was carried to her ears on the wind.


    The coalition army began to move, a wave of riders and their mounts rolling over the land. The messenger could not have arrived yet, so it had been their independent decision to move out and charge directly at Mong Rau''s expected army. They would soon learn the truth, but their momentum would allow them to give chase. Perhaps there was hope for them to catch up with the enemy yet.


    Everything had to go perfectly for that to happen, but Viyal could only hope for such an outcome. She glanced at Altuna, who did not notice her gaze. Had prayer been effective after all? She caught herself having such idle thoughts in these dire circumstances as she directed her Shinoon to turn back and rode along the coalition army on the other side of the river.

 Chapter 20 - Stalemate

    Mong Rau''s troops approached the central forts, where the sound of battle reached their ears. Fau Tu''s detachment was engaged in a melee with the two siege armies. They outnumbered the enemy at least two to one, so the general''s reinforcements would tip the scale even further. They would make short work of them and turn to face the army chasing after them from the west.


    Chief Tobogur commanded predominantly infantry comprised of Rausam and other species that were good on foot for the siege. That was why he ultimately decided to stay and hold back the eastern army. If they had retreated, the enemy cavalry would have harried them, making it nearly impossible to rejoin the coalition''s main force. He could only pray that they made it back in time to relieve them.


    Commander Yasuca decided to make a stand in a position where the enemy could not fully surround her army. The steppe warriors were now pinned between the earthen fort''s walls and Fau Tu''s troops, but the garrison was unable to sally forth to hit them in the rear since the gate was barricaded from the outside. The defenders had already expended most of their ammunition, so they could only throw rocks from atop the walls in an attempt to help their allies fighting outside.


    Most steppe people were physically superior to the Samagshin in every way. It was a saving grace that the empire looked down on other species so much that it did not allow them to join the military in large numbers out of fear that they would form an internal resistance movement. If the enemy had the physically stronger species they treated as mere servants forming the backbone of their army, the steppe warriors would not have held out nearly as long. Still, the situation would only get worse the longer it went on since they were already tired from the siege.


    Mong Rau''s army finally appeared over the hill, signaling the beginning of the end for Chief Tobogur and Commander Yasuca. He commanded a sizeable archery unit, one of only a few in the Omagala Empire''s military. It largely relied on crossbows since they were much easier for recruits to pick up and learn, and the enemies were usually their heavily-armored fellow Samagshin. But crossbows were overkill against the largely unarmored barbarians and much slower in reloading. Simple arrows would do the job much more quickly, and time was of the essence as the coalition''s main army was hot on their heels.


    Amiro drove his troops onward in a full gallop, leaving behind those who could not keep up. He had received the report that their siege units would soon be surrounded and annihilated by the enemy''s overwhelming numbers. They needed to hit Mong Rau in the rear to take pressure off their allies. Hopefully, their momentum would carry them through to victory.


    In this storm of uncertainty, Viyal watched from the other side of the unnamed river and already predicted the outcome of this battle. The coalition would not win here. Mong Rau would not fall today. And the empire''s designs on the steppe would not end anytime soon. All they could hope for was for as many steppe people to get out of this alive as possible.


    It was not a matter of being pessimistic. She could see from her vantage point what the armies involved could not. The eastern detachment sent a contingent to the other side of the earthen fort to supply the defenders with fresh ammunition. It would only be moments before they rained crossbow bolts down from the walls again.


    At the same time, the large contingent of archers separated from Mong Rau''s troops to finish off Chief Tobogur and Commander Yasuca. The Gadat general''s army had been moving in reverse all this time, but now, his vanguard was back in its original role. They formed a wide battle line that moved toward the river on one side and curved back around toward itself on the other. It was a formation to stop the coalition army from wrapping around their flanks with their larger numbers. Only the fortress-like shield wall of the Omagala Empire could afford to do so against a massive cavalry charge.


    And behind their lines, visible only to Viyal as she stood atop the tallest hill in the area, the Gadat engineers swiftly assembled something. They had taken it apart during their march, but now that they were going to engage the enemy, it was finally time to put it together. A dozen large ballistae mounted atop raisable contraptions were erected as the first volley of arrows impacted the front of their shield wall. The steppe riders could not see them as they were loaded and continued their charge.


    Amiro rode at the front, his flaming red mane visible even from afar. Beside him were Gavro and his sons. The army formed a wedge behind them, ready to throw everything into shattering the Gadat lines. Viyal wanted to scream for them to turn away, but her voice would never carry that far. Even the battle roar of the nearly twenty thousand riders was a faint thunder in the distance from where she stood. She could not avert her eyes from this moment. It would decide the future of the steppe people and the realization of her prophecy.


    The ballistas were raised over the heads of the soldiers and unleashed their deadly payloads. Each fired six bolts the length of an adult Samagshin. Be it fortune or divine providence, none had been aimed at Amiro and his contingent. However, the bolts cut through the steppe people''s lines, ripping bodies apart with their overwhelming force. A wave of crossbow bolts followed, taking down many more riders.


    However, their momentum could no longer be stopped. Viyal watched her father''s Shinoon charge into the gap between two Gadat shields. Then, everything turned into a mess as the two battle lines clashed all along their lengths. The shield wall was ripped open where Amiro broke in, but his red hair could no longer be made out as dust was kicked up from thousands of trampling hooves and feet.


    "Your father will be alright," Tashi tried to reassure Viyal, but she could not tear her eyes off the battlefield to look at him for even a moment. She was not one for prayer, but she pleaded to the god that spoke to her when she was reincarnated into this world to protect her family. It was all she could do now.


    Mong Rau proved his worth as a veteran general with expert command over his army. Although his battle line was unexpectedly broken on the first assault, his troops quickly stopped the coalition army''s advance with a second layer of shield bearers. The ballistae stood protected and continued to unleash deadly volleys into the attackers'' ranks over the heads of the Samagshin soldiers.


    At one point, the worst-case scenario must have happened in the surrounded army under Chief Tobogur and Commander Yasuca. They had continued to hold on even under a constant rain of arrows from Mong Rau''s elite archery unit and fire from the wall behind them. However, from one moment to the other, it lost its cohesion and entered a rout. Perhaps one or both of the commanders were killed in battle.


    Fau Tu recognized the changing situation and turned the majority of his army around to aid Mong Rau against the coalition''s main army, leaving behind only a roughly equal force to deal with the remaining steppe warriors in their midst. But somebody took command and led the troops to find a weak point and break out of the encirclement. What could have been total annihilation turned into a quick escape across the river for a little over a thousand troops.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    Still, it meant that Mong Rau''s army, which had managed to achieve a stalemate against the coalition troops despite being outnumbered nearly two to one, would be bolstered to near equal numbers. The coalition commanders soon recognized that something changed despite not being able to see past the front line. Their momentum had all but run out, but the Gadat army suddenly received a push from behind that allowed them to advance instead. The tides were turned against them in the bloody melee.


    Thus, they disengaged in a hurry. Mong Rau commanded his troops not to chase and instead maintained his formation. He knew that they could not catch up to the various steppe mounts with their slower Doja Shou and would only face the parting shot if they tried. As the coalition troops retreated toward the river, the bear general ordered his men to secure the nearest earthen fort instead.


    With this, a long day of battle ended without a conclusive winner. The losses sustained by both sides amounted to nearly the same in the end. However, that left the distribution of power in favor of the Gadat, as they reclaimed their forts in the process. What had been planned as an overwhelming victory to drive fear into the empire would now turn into a prolonged war. Since they did not annihilate the punitive force in one strike, the Omagala Empire would be emboldened to redouble their efforts to take this land. The emperor would soon send additional reinforcements to the successful general, who drove away the steppe people for a while.


    Ultimately, the result was still better than if they had attempted to fight in a direct battle from the beginning. The coalition managed to shave off roughly a third of the enemy army with the ambush at the western forts. Only the latter part of the engagement turned messy and led to unnecessary losses.


    Chief Tobogur fell in battle, killed by multiple arrows piercing his body. Commander Yasuca, Chief Ivakha''s second daughter, was struck in the lower back by a crossbolt bolt and fell off her Hyarul. Her guard unit managed to carry her off the battlefield, but she was now paralyzed from the waist down. Several other chiefs had also fallen or were maimed. The coalition''s morale, riding on a high from the many easy victories it had won before, plummeted to an all-time low. Throughout history, steppe people were capricious and only fought when they felt they could win. It would require a lot of convincing and maneuvering to keep the coalition together now.


    In these uncertain times, the Snowblood swore bitter revenge for her daughter''s fate in a passionate speech before the chiefs and troops. It managed to stave off the immediate dissolution of the coalition. They could not afford to lose again, or it would really mean the end of the resistance against the Gadat invasion.


    They now needed to drum up support from far and wide and bolster their numbers again. Some chiefs murmured about perhaps finding a way to reconcile with the Ishtemur, which was the second-strongest tribe on the steppe, but they would never dare bring it up before Ivakha the Snowblood.


    Viyal welcomed her family when they returned to the camp. Amiro had been shot in the stomach with a crossbow bolt and sustained many cuts across his body, but he walked on steady feet and spoke in his usual commanding voice. His brother and sons were in a similar state, but all that mattered was that they survived the battle.


    However, many Zakhira warriors did not return. People Viyal had grown up with now lay dead on the other side of the river, left to the carrion birds. Sky burials were the steppe people''s custom, but not being able to see the deceased one last time weighed heavily on their families. After all, the Zakhira tribe had been winning every battle until now, giving them the leeway to collect their bodies and return them to their families for the final parting rites.


    Viyal could sense the shift in morale. Joy and laughter from when they successfully raided the Gadat were replaced by a downcast mood across the camp. Nobody wanted to show off happiness or make merry among their families when their neighbors were in mourning. It grew increasingly difficult to motivate the warriors when they came in for their daily training.


    Her father not once mentioned the failure of her strategy. He and the other chiefs took full responsibility for the messy battle and the resulting stalemate. After all, they had decided to follow her suggestions because they did not have a better one. The Snowblood had talked to Amiro in private after the battle, admitting they would have reached a much worse conclusion if they had gone with her initial plan of splitting up the troops.


    Thus, Viyal was allowed to join the next strategy meeting five days after the battle. Most attending chiefs were wounded, showing they had fought at the frontlines. Not one complained about their ailments and sat on their cushions with stoic expressions. They were a hardy people, used to pain and suffering. These wounds would not keep them down for long.


    The chiefs began by suggesting what to do next. Various strategies for a swift retribution strike were brought up and picked apart by the others. None of them managed to gain much traction, and they reached an impasse again. They were now in a worse situation than when they first arrived here. While they had conquered the forts and slaughtered most of their inhabitants over the past two weeks, the enemy had now retaken them. However, whereas the garrison troops were barely better than the militia, trained soldiers manned the walls now, making the forts essentially impossible to assault again.


    "Do you have no suggestions this time?" Altuna said next to Viyal. The young Mosyv looked up at her friend in confusion. Her elder sister had been hurt by her failure of a strategy, and many members of her tribe were killed. Did she still trust her to come up with something worthwhile after that?


    "Not this time," Viyal lowered her gaze and muttered. It was not that she had given up after a single defeat. She had spent the last few days simulating scenarios and mulling over the coalition''s options by herself. But she had come up blank on all of them after trying to take every possibility into account.


    With their equal numbers, their options were very limited. Mong Rau distributed his twenty thousand remaining troops across the central five of the twelve earthen forts and abandoned the rest. Unlike when they dealt with the garrison, he would not fall for the steppe people''s provocations, feints, and diversions. He concentrated his troops instead of trying to hold all the forts along the river with his lacking numbers.


    The only weakness was the same as before: The supply deliveries. Mong Rau could not afford to send out too many troops to stop the coalition''s raids. Perhaps they could starve him out through the winter and assault his weakened troops in the spring. But if the empire sent another army of a similar size to reinforce him before then, it would all have been for naught.


    In the end, Viyal could not devise a convincing strategy. She could only let the chiefs discuss among themselves and maybe come up with something she could not think of. They had much more experience in warfare than she did, so she could learn from their debates and build upon her analytical skills with their knowledge.


    Days turned into weeks. Without an overarching strategy, the various chiefs attempted to lure Mong Rau''s officers out of hiding themselves. While the general was stationed in the central earthen fort, he delegated his officers to the other four, with strict orders not to emerge no matter what the steppe people did.


    Chief Inalik once set free a group of Samagshin prisoners and sent them running back to the westernmost earthen fort. The officer inside did not send out his troops to save them, knowing it was bait. The Bavadi chief then sent some troops to kill them in full view of the gatehouse, but even that did not make the enemy move.


    Several similar stratagems yielded the same result. Mong Rau''s officers were too well-trained to fall for such obvious schemes, or they trusted their general''s judgment not to leave the forts. Despite his title of Black Beast, he was exceedingly calm and rational. He was the worst matchup for the hotheaded steppe people who preferred swift attacks over sustained standoffs.


    Thus, two months passed without any development. The Gadat remained holed up in the forts; no supply caravans came in all that time, and there was not a hint of even a messenger, let alone a reinforcement army. The coalition could not capture anybody to squeeze them for information, so it was left woefully in the dark as to the empire''s plans.


    Then, as the first snow fell on the Sunrise Lowlands, the coalition camp was in an uproar. Ivakha had sent out messengers to the other Shuva tribes, and they had responded. They were only a few days away, bringing with them hundreds of smaller tribes. The coalition would be bolstered by tens of thousands of fresh warriors.


    Their reinforcements had come before the empire''s did. Now was the time to strike and bury Mong Rau. And with him, the Omagala Empire''s designs on the steppe people''s lands.

 Chapter 21 - The Old Trickster

    As the coalition welcomed their new members and the numbers they brought with a feast in the evening, a group of people received a very different welcome elsewhere, not too far away. Under cover of the night, when the scouts of the steppe people were distracted with the festivities in their camp, a shadowy party crossed the river further upstream, rounded the abandoned earthen forts, and approached the one Mong Rau called his base.


    The southern gates, out of view from the other riverbank, were opened to let them in. The street beyond was lined with shield bearers, and crossbowmen aimed down the rooftops. Despite this reception, the envoys walked confidently, glancing at the Samagshin soldiers with disdain.


    They were Selemur, saber-toothed, hunched-backed, and brimming with a violent aura. The dozen warriors were led by none other than Tadai, the sixth son of Chief Khaguran of the Ishtemur tribe. He ignored the countless crossbow bolts pointed at him and marched down the street toward the town''s center, where a tent stood instead of the wooden town hall that used to tower over the rest of the settlement.


    "Welcome, envoy of the mighty Ishtemur," Mong Rau emerged from within, flanked by a dozen of his commanders. Fau Tu was among them, having been promoted to second-in-command after his achievement in the battle against the coalition. The general walked with a noticeable limp; his rounded shoulders and lowered head were a sign of advanced age and a weak will.


    "Black Beast. I see through your act," Tadai snarled in broken Omagalan, glaring at the general. He pointed at a necklace made of claws and teeth. Trophies from Baagai all. "Your kind strong until they die."


    "You dare insult a general of the empire?!" Fau Tu and the other Samagshin officers prepared to draw their swords, but Mong Rau let out a rumbling noise from the depth of his throat. His men understood the wordless rebuke and backed down.


    The Black Beast''s expression shifted, and he straightened his back, towering far over the Selemur. But even then, Tadai and his guards did not show a hint of respect before his stature. They were not intimidated when surrounded by thousands of Shaankhor sycophants, so they would not be intimidated by any number of Gadat led by a beast they hunted for sport.


    "Now, we here to talk. So, we talk," Tadai said and pointed at the tent. "You prepared this, yeah?"


    He had noticed that most buildings in the city were in various states of disrepair. But instead of being burned down or destroyed by catapult fire, they seemed to have been dismantled by hand. Were the Gadat freezing under the first snow already and using the wood from the houses to warm themselves? Did they not know it would only get worse from here?


    "Yes. We talk over food and drink," Mong Rau nodded and responded.


    "No, speak here and be done with it. No time to waste," the Ishtemur prince demanded with a growl. Mong Rau''s officers glared at him furiously. This creature from the steppes did not know an ounce of respect. They hoped their general would give the order and be done with this contemptuous animal.


    Tadai only deferred to the strong, such as his father and some of his many brothers. Those who needed to use ranged weapons did not count among them. He would speak to weaklings like they deserved, regardless of the crossbows pointed at him. They would fight their way out of this if they had to, and without losing a single warrior, no less. Such was the self-confidence radiating from every hair on their bodies. The common soldiers were rooted to their posts in fear, unable to take their eyes off the beasts in their midst. Even the officers understood that perhaps they would not be able to stop them if they wanted to kill their general.


    "Very well. I offer you peace between your people and the empire," Mong Rau started, but Tadai clicked his tongue and spat on the ground.


    "Empty promises are for your courts and nobles. We need no peace," he declared, making his disdain known with the limited facial expressions his species was capable of. "Speak about plans first."


    "The coalition will besiege us soon. But they know not that we have reinforcements inbound," Mong Rau did not react to Tadai''s provocative attitude and spoke calmly.


    "General, we should not reveal such information! What if they go and tell their fellow barbarians?" Fau Tu objected to the almost flippant reveal of this military intel they had kept hidden at all costs until now.


    "When?" Tadai ignored Fau Tu''s interjection and inquired with a curious tilt of his head.


    "Thirty-six days from now," Mong Rau did the same and responded.


    The Ishtemur prince looked around, noting the state of the walls. These earthen forts were meant to be a place of refuge for settlers during raids, not to withstand a proper siege. Ten out of the twelve forts along the river fell to the steppe people within a month, even though they were inexperienced at overcoming fortifications.


    "Do not worry. We can easily hold out for that long," the general said, realizing Tadai''s dubious look.


    "I don''t worry. You worry. Even if they are weaklings, band together with Shaankhor, they better than you Gadat," the pack leader said with a condescending sniff directed at the Samagshin. "We do our part. Now, speak about reward."


    "The Emperor will grant your father the rank of marquis-" Mong Rau began, but Tadai interrupted him with an impatient roar.


    "Does your emperor feed his people with ranks?" It was a rhetorical question, and the general knew not to fall for it. But the other officers took offense to his disrespect and were about to speak up again. However, Tadai waved his hand in a sweeping gesture that caused them to flinch. It was not even directed at them but at the surrounding soldiers, as he gave his demands, "Weapons, armors. Ten thousand each. After this, we fight the tribes who band against us. Those who seek revenge."


    "You will have your reward and more. After you complete your task," the towering Baagai announced.


    "Of course. We keep our word. Your emperor keep his," with this final provocation, Tadai turned around and walked back down the main street. His warriors glared at the Samagshin, still aiming their crossbows at them, and snorted in disdain. Soon, they were back at the gates, which were opened quietly. They slipped out like blurs and disappeared into the night.


    "Why do you bargain with such beasts?" Fau Tu asked Mong Rau, his brow furrowed in consternation.


    "You ask this knowing my epithet?" the general responded, causing the Samagshin officer to blink in surprise.


    "No, that is not-"


    "They may be beasts, but they can be helpful beasts. What we need right now is to break up the barbarians'' coalition. An enemy from the outside could never achieve that. Every victory we take from them will only strengthen their bonds against us," Mong Rau proceeded to explain to Fau Tu and the other gathered officers. "Betrayal never comes from without."


    He looked up at the moonless night sky and took a deep breath of the cold air. It was nothing like the freezing temperatures of his lost homeland, but such times made him think back to his past. He had been in a similar situation to the steppe people''s coalition once. That was why he knew what to do to bring about their downfall.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    "Now, we have to complete our preparations before the enemy attacks. Return to your posts," the general waved his clawed hand and turned around to enter the command tent. His officers scattered to convey his orders. He walked over to his giant seat cushion and sat down on it heavily. With a long sigh, he picked up a brush and started writing a letter to the emperor.


    Viyal''s eyes were fixated on the bird sitting on Altuna''s padded shoulder guard as she approached on her Hyarul. It closely resembled a falcon, but its head sported extra tufts of feathers, shaped like a baseball cap worn backward. She did not know the steppe people practiced falconry, but that was not the only reason she stared so intently.


    "A bird sitting on a bird riding a bird," commented Yunil with an amused chuckle, speaking her sister''s mind.


    "What''s wrong?" Altuna floated down from her mount gracefully and gestured for the falcon to climb onto her hand. "This is Ravi, my bonded Sanhor."


    "Why have I never seen him before?" Viyal wondered. She had been to the Shaankhor camp many times but had never seen Altuna play with Ravi before.


    "He and many other Sanhor were away delivering messages to the Shuva tribes," the bird girl explained while scratching Ravi''s neck. He seemed to enjoy it and closed his eyes contentedly."He finally returned today, so I wanted to introduce him to you."


    "He returned on his own? That''s a smart bird," Viyal praised Ravi and carefully raised a hand toward it, worried about its sharp beak. She knew of carrier pigeons in her previous world, but those could only fly routes they were familiar with. Finding a nomadic tribe on this vast steppe and then returning to the owner, who was also on the move, was something beyond their abilities.


    The moment that thought entered her mind, a terrible realization burned within her. She stopped her hand, and her breath was stuck in her throat.


    The empire would obviously realize something was wrong if they received no communications from Mong Rau for a long time, but they would send scouts before committing to sending an entire army. That was why they had fast riders patrolling the routes leading back to the empire, aiming to intercept all messengers. But not a single person had left the forts since he won them back. She had been wondering what he was doing with his time, but they had not detected any movements from him at all.


    However, now that she knew there were birds capable of carrying out complex assignments and traveling with their own judgment rather than on predetermined routes like carrier pigeons, things were different. Mong Rau could have had a steady stream of communications with the empire for all they knew, and there would have been no way to intercept them.


    "What''s wrong?" Yunil inquired, worried that Viyal had frozen in place.


    "Again, did nobody else think about this possibility?" the young Mosyv held her head and shouted to the sky.


    As it turned out, nobody had thought of the possibility that the Gadat kept messenger birds with capabilities similar to those of the Sanhor. The lookouts they asked reported that they had seen plenty of birds fly between the earthen forts as well as toward the Zarukhan Mountain Range but thought nothing of it. After all, wild birds were nothing special on the steppe.


    In other words, Mong Rau had indeed been communicating with the empire over the past two months. Their reinforcements were most likely not too far away and contained overwhelming numbers to put this pesky frontier war to rest. Once they linked up with the bear general and entrenched themselves, they would be here to stay.


    The coalition''s allies had already arrived but were settling down, so they had to strike as quickly as possible. They knew from the Samagshin prisoners that the empire had nobody else like Mong Rau. If they removed him from the equation, they would not have another commander capable of taking on the steppe people''s fighting style.


    Whatever the case, time was of the essence. An emergency meeting was called, and the chiefs discussed how to approach the situation. They were at a disadvantage against Mong Rau''s professional soldiers manning the walls, but numbers would make up the difference. They had constructed new siege weapons already, and all that was missing was a strategy.


    Chief Ivakha suggested splitting up the combined army of now fifty thousand into five groups. One would consist of twenty thousand troops to assault the fort commanded by Mong Rau. Four groups of seven thousand each would encircle the other forts and keep reinforcements from coming to the general''s aid.


    Without further ado, the coalition army set out the same afternoon and reached the unnamed river in front of the line of forts. Small pillars of smoke rose from within the occupied ones, showing they were cooking something over fires. Even after two months, their supplies still had not run out. They must have come here with enough to feed the army of thirty thousand and all twelve forts'' inhabitants for at least a month. When a third of that army was lost, and most garrisons had been wiped out, their food situation became more forgiving.


    The coalition''s main army began to set up the perimeter and assembled the siege weapons around the central fort flying Mong Rau''s flag. The signal fire on the gatehouse was lit, requesting reinforcements from the nearby forts. The steppe warriors spotted Samagshin soldiers on the walls, running around and preparing the defenses. Crossbowmen aimed over the battlements but judged the distance too great to waste their ammunition yet.


    The siege finally commenced in the evening hours when the sun neared the horizon and shone into the defenders'' eyes when they tried to peer out across the besiegers to the west. The coalition warriors brought scavenged Gadat tower shields to protect their ladder carriers on their approach. Crossbow bolts and arrows danced through the air in both directions, most bouncing off harmlessly from the shields or walls. Then, the ladders were in place, and the assault began.


    There were more than enough troops inside the fort to man all the walls twice over. Therefore, there was no blind spot to exploit like during the previous sieges, when the Jagul warriors climbed the earthen ramparts with their claws and opened one of the gates from the inside. Still, this was a simple square fortress with low walls and flimsy gates. It would not take long for twenty thousand to overwhelm four thousand.


    However, the defenders fought fiercely and kept the ladder assault in check, using long poles to push them away. Whenever a steppe warrior reached the battlements, they were faced with multiple spears or peppered with crossbow bolts. It was completely different from the garrison troops before, who suffered from low morale and had little training to speak of. These were the empire''s elite, fully trusting their veteran general to bring them to victory.


    What had been a quick assault the previous time turned into a long slog despite their overwhelming number. The coalition army lit decoy torches below to lure the defenders into wasting their ammunition during the night. The species with night vision climbed the walls in the meantime, knowing that Samagshin could not see in the dark. But somehow, the enemy knew what they were doing and beat them back throughout the night.


    The battering ram that had broken down the gate in a few hours the previous time made no headway now. The burning oil pots lobbed into the fort with the catapults did not seem to cause much destruction on the other side, either. With the climbers unable to establish a bridgehead, the siege entered a stalemate even without outside help.


    When six days passed, the besiegers felt that something was wrong. Their twenty thousand warriors attacked day and night in shifts, not giving the defenders any time to rest. Just the constant threat of rocks or burning projectiles impacting their buildings on the other side of the wall should have been enough to stop them from sleeping. Still, even if the enemy was well-trained and highly motivated, they did not seem to tire at all.


    However, cracks finally began to form in the defenders on the twelfth day. Two Jagul climbers established a bridgehead near a corner of the wall by carrying two Gadat shields up and bracing them on the parapets to block all crossbow fire. Two steppe warriors soon became four, then seven, and finally, the stalemate was broken.


    Within minutes, the wall section was taken, and the coalition army redoubled their efforts everywhere. As if a dam broke, the wall fell in many places at the same time, and the defenders were overwhelmed. A cheer rang out as the gate was opened from the inside not even half an hour later, and the cavalry finally poured inside.


    But soon, triumph turned into confusion. They had expected Mong Rau and his troops to make a final stand on the town square, using their shield fortress as the last layer of defense. But they found the streets largely empty and far too few bodies to account for four thousand defenders to have been slain already. The coalition troops searched the strangely dilapidated houses and found them as empty as the streets. Where had the remaining soldiers gone? The entire fort had been surrounded, so they could not have slipped out.


    It took the chiefs some time to question the troops to finally be able to draw a picture of what happened. The Gadat soldiers on the walls had retreated down the stairs and converged on one spot in the town where they all entered a building and never emerged from it again. It was empty, but they found a hidden hole in the floor leading into a tunnel large enough to fit a Baagai. It had collapsed a few dozen paces inside, done deliberately to stop any pursuers. Mong Rau had long since escaped down the tunnel, likely all the way to one of the other forts.


    The coalition leaders understood what had happened over the past twelve days. This fort had been supplied with fresh troops and ammunition through this underground tunnel. That was the secret to their tireless defense despite being under constant assault. Mong Rau had anticipated they would not assault all five forts at once since it would result in higher casualties.


    Now, they would be forced to do exactly that to finish this war before the empire''s reinforcements arrived.

 Chapter 22 - Breakdown

    Scouts reported Mong Rau''s flag flying from all the earthen forts, including those that had been abandoned previously. The broken gates were blocked with debris and packed dirt rather than repaired, showing they had no intention of sallying out. His twenty thousand troops could never hope to hold eleven forts against proper sieges, but it was impossible to tell which ones were fully occupied and which were mere decoys. All of this was to stall for time until their reinforcements arrived.


    The coalition was forced to assault all of them at once. Their limited siege weapons were held in reserve until they could determine which forts had proper garrisons. Meanwhile, the captured slaves were made to dig for the enemy tunnels day and night without pause. They did not know how deep they were or if they even went in a straight line between the forts, so it was like searching for a needle in a haystack.


    Viyal and her friends were allowed to stay in the siege camp rather than having to make the journey from the coalition camp every day. She witnessed the enemy beating back every assault with increasing anxiety. They did not know when the empire''s next army would arrive and how big it would be. Everything could come crashing down if they lost here, and the steppe people would be put on the back foot in the fight against the invasion of their homeland.


    After seven days of ladder assaults, five of the outer forts were determined to have only a skeleton garrison when they abandoned their posts and fled into the tunnels the moment a wall section fell. One of their units was unable to escape as the slaves finally dug up one of the underground pathways, allowing the coalition to trap them inside. Still, it was only a few hundred enemy soldiers who were captured or killed in the process, not nearly enough to make a significant dent in Mong Rau''s fighting capabilities.


    Throughout it all, they could never determine where the enemy general hid among the remaining six forts, all of which fought tooth and nail to stop the assaults. To them, it was a matter of sheer survival, while the steppe warriors likely did not understand nearly as well as Viyal how much this would determine the future of their people.


    Another six days later, four more forts were abandoned, and the Gadat consolidated in the final two remaining refuges. Soon after, the slaves dug up another tunnel, and some Bavadi warriors were sent inside to infiltrate one of the forts at night, using their superior dark vision to remain hidden. Their goal was not to fight but to discover where Mong Rau was.


    However, they did not return, and the enemy collapsed the tunnel on their own accord. Without knowledge of the Baagai general''s whereabouts, the coalition leadership decided to throw their all into taking down the last two forts simultaneously. As expected, now that they were driven into a corner, the defenders fought more fiercely ever than before. Even as the entire town inside was engulfed in flames from constant catapult fire, the soldiers on the walls continued to struggle to the death.


    Mong Rau was a defensive general like no other, not at all a beast like his epithet suggested. He was methodical and stalwart, commanding his troops with unwavering confidence. Thus, on the thirty-sixth day since the siege began, a cheer rang out from within the two forts, battered but unbroken. Their reinforcements finally appeared over the horizon.


    They numbered roughly forty thousand soldiers, including hundreds of fire-ready ballistae on carts. After their losses during the repeated assaults on the forts, the steppe warriors barely surpassed that number. If they abandoned the siege and met the enemy in the field, they could perhaps squeeze out a victory. But Mong Rau''s troops would sally out and hit them in the rear. At that time, they would be pincered and outnumbered.


    Viyal could not think of any way to win now. The steppe people were never meant to fight in a direct confrontation since their greatest weapons were mobility and individual physical abilities. Mong Rau had so naturally dragged them into a slugfest when they should have used hit-and-run tactics that nobody had realized the mistake until it was too late.


    When the chiefs gathered quickly to decide the next course of action, a rider arrived from the coalition camp. She reported that they were under attack by the Ishtemur. They had formed an alliance with the other Selemur tribes and mustered twenty thousand warriors to stab the coalition in the back. This was the greatest betrayal in the steppe people''s history. Their timing with the approach of the Gadat army showed they worked with them for whatever short-sighted benefit they gained from this.


    All their families were in the camp, guarded only by a few thousand warriors. Most steppe people''s civilians were stronger than Samagshin and would have been able to hold their own against an army of their kind, at least for a while. However, Selemur came second in physical prowess only after the Mosyvvi; the civilians would be slaughtered with little resistance.


    The coalition hastily aborted the siege and beat a full retreat to their camp. But Mong Rau saw the opportunity and sallied forth from both forts, hitting the departing infantry in the rear. Not one of the chiefs even considered staying behind with their troops to form an orderly rear guard. Their families were more important than their brothers-in-arms; without the women and children, their tribes would face destruction all the same.


    Viyal separated from Altuna, who departed with her mother and sisters, and rode beside Amiro. His tense expression hid the worry for his tribe and especially his wife. It would take them over an hour to get back if they drove their Shinoona to exhaustion. Who knew how much destruction the Selemur could wreak by then?


    "Mother will be fine, right?" Yunil asked with a nervous look. Viyal could not even muster a word of reassurance to her sister and curled her eyebrows in worry.


    The reckless ride back felt like an eternity due to the overwhelming feeling of certain tragedy. Pillars of smoke rising over the horizon had them mentally preparing for the worst. When the massive camp finally came into view, their fears turned into reality. Civilians ran around screaming as the Selemur slaughtered them between burning tents. The saber-toothed beasts were unfeeling in their actions, killing women and children with ruthless efficiency.


    The coalition troops, reduced to a few thousand of the fastest riders since they had left the slower ones behind, drove their mounts onward with wrathful roars. Viyal spotted the Zakhira camp area aflame and felt rage rise within her. For the first time, she truly understood the urge to kill as she saw the Selemur among the tents retreating now that the warriors were here.


    She followed her father, uncle, and two brothers'' lead and rode alongside a hundred other Zakhira warriors as they poured into the camp. The riders began to split up among the tents and cut down every enemy too slow to escape. She followed in Amiro''s wake as he shot arrows at the fleeing enemies, but a Selemur suddenly leaped out of cover and spooked her Shinoon.


    Unable to control it in time, it carried her down another path between the tents. But instead of panicking, she drove her mount onward to regroup with her family on the other side. However, she saw a Selemur raider emerging from a tent with a bloody Gadat halberd, carrying a stack of furs under his arm.


    Viyal found herself naturally drawing her bow and unleashing an arrow into the back of his neck. She had shot it with pinpoint accuracy that surprised even herself. The beast did not fall and looked over his shoulder with a hateful glare. But Viyal was not deterred and drew another arrow. The Selemur raider dropped his loot and turned around to fight, knowing he could not escape from a mounted archer.


    Yunil suddenly rode past Viyal with her spear couched and pointed at the enemy. He leveled his halberd''s sharp end at her, but the young Mosyv shot another arrow and hit him in the eye. Even that was not enough to kill him, but it threw off his aim. The Nokkoy dodged the halberd and stabbed her spear into the Selemur''s throat so hard that its tip exited through its thick neck, and the shaft shattered from the impact.


    The raider stumbled and fell onto his backside but scrambled back up to his feet despite the grievous wound. He swung his halberd at Yunil with desperate strength, but she caught it and yanked it out of his faltering grip. She spun it around and split the saber-toothed beast''s skull with his own weapon, finally ending his life.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Viyal stared at the twitching corpse and suppressed the urge to vomit. She had seen death aplenty since being reborn into this world, but this was the first time she had been involved in it. In the heat of the moment, her lacking archery skills finally blossomed, and she helped take a life. But instead of remorse, she felt only trepidation. If all Selemur were this hard to kill, how could they ever defeat twenty thousand of them?


    Yunil looked at the Gadat weapon in her hands and noted how well it suited her recently overflowing strength despite being too large for her hands still. It would be a while before she could wield it to its full effect. She then peered back at Viyal, who seemed lost in thought. "Sister, let''s go!"


    "Yes, sorry." She shook her head and drove her Shinoon onward to follow Yunil. But she looked back where they came from and wondered where Tashi went. He had not kept up with them, so perhaps he headed for the Chotul tribe''s section within the Zakhira camp. Viyal hoped they were unharmed, knowing that they could not defend themselves, unlike the other steppe people.


    The two girls rode past burning tents and countless dead bodies, only few of which were Selemur. The sheer amount of death and destruction made it clear that the coalition was done for. After this, they would have to leave the Sunrise Lowlands and recuperate, perhaps for years to come. During that time, the Omagala Empire''s hold over these lands would strengthen.


    Finally, they reached the opening around the largest tent in the center of the Zakhira camp. Amiro and Gavro arrived only moments later, now on foot and covered in blood. They had encountered enemies along the way and ripped them apart in righteous fury. In the end, Mosyvvi were the apex predators of the steppe, and even Selemur in full Gadat armor were no match for their physical might.


    "Daughter!" Amiro called out to Viyal with an expression of relief. Before he could walk toward her, Gavro knocked him aside as he rushed forward. She watched her uncle almost stumble over his own feet as he ran up the small elevation to the chief''s tent. Then, she saw it.


    "Zalavi!" Gavro screamed as he fell to his knees beside his lifeless wife lying in front of the family tent. She had several visible wounds on her torso, and her shoulder was ripped open. Her hand still clutched a broken spear, its tip drenched in Selemur blood.


    Amiro ran past him into the tent and was greeted with an arrow to the shoulder. Inside stood Mamai with her fangs bared, clutching a dagger with both hands, covering Nayavi. When they realized it was the chief, Mamai stepped aside, and Nayavi lowered her bow and collapsed to the floor from the tension leaving her body. Amiro stepped over the Selemur corpse lying on the floor with two arrows in his throat and embraced his wife. Huddling behind her were Lavaro and Layavi, scared but unharmed.


    Viyal walked up to Gavro hugging Zalavi''s body and stared at her aunt''s empty eyes. Her vision spun as the words ''chosen one'' echoed over and over in her mind. She was the Omen Child, destined to rule the world - or die before her thirteenth birthday. Now, death had found one in her family, and her tribe was in pieces. Had she fallen from the right path? Would she spiral toward her demise from now on?


    "Brother, your children are safe!" Amiro emerged from the tent to announce, shaking her from her mental freefall. Gavro looked up at his brother with his mouth open. He placed down Zalavi and caressed her cheek one last time before standing up and wiping his tears. His children would not get to see their father showing weakness. He had to be a pillar of support for them.


    As Gavro walked past him to see Lavaro and Layavi, Amiro ordered his warriors to secure the camp and drive out the remaining Selemur. He looked back where they came from and saw the coalition army''s riders still crossing the hill in the distance and coming toward them. They needed to consolidate quickly and prepare to fight.


    "Go see your mother," Amiro said and placed a hand on Viyal''s head. She only now noticed the tears streaming down her face as she continued to stare at her aunt''s body. Wiping it with her sleeve, she turned away and entered the tent after Gavro, closely followed by Yunil.


    "My child!" Nayavi cried out, embracing Viyal the moment she saw her. She waved Yunil over to do the same when she found her standing at the entrance awkwardly.


    "Aunt Zalavi is dead," Viyal muttered into her mother''s chest.


    "I know," Nayavi responded, causing her daughter to look up in surprise. She wore a strained expression, pressing her lips together to stop her emotions from overflowing. It was clear she would have burst into tears if she did not have to stay strong in front of her children. But that only caused sadness to overcome Viyal once again.


    "We need to move. The enemy is coming," Amiro peeked into the tent and announced. They were not even given time to mourn. If they did not pack up the little they could afford to carry on their Shinoona and departed, they would be pincered between the Selemur alliance and the Gadat army chasing after their stragglers coming in from the sieges.


    When Viyal exited the tent with her family, Noro and Saro arrived with their wives. They were in tears, and Zagaro was nowhere to be seen, making it clear what had happened. Even though Savira and Vayari had yet to have children and were still physically strong, they were no match for Selemur warriors. Their father had given his life to protect them until the end so that his bloodline could continue in them.


    Amiro quickly drummed up the tribe''s warriors and had them gather the civilians so that they could depart. At one point, Tashi returned to Viyal''s side, his clothes covered in blood. His expression told volumes about what had happened, so she did not ask when he joined them silently.


    Rowen soon arrived with the slowest riders of the tribe, who barely escaped the pursuing Gadat army. He saw Zalavi''s body in front of the tent, hastily covered with burial talismans since they could not afford to bring her body along. His gray beard parted and revealed an open mouth rounded in regret. The old knight quickly dismounted and took a knee before Gavro, lowering his head in apology. "I should have remained here to guard your tent instead of uselessly joining the siege camp."


    "No, I wanted you by my side as my champion. It was my mistake that I could not utilize your strengths where they were needed, old friend," Amiro declared with a pained expression. But Gavro only shook his head and helped Rowen back to his feet.


    "Nobody could have known the Ishtemur would stab us in the back. It is nobody''s fault but theirs," he argued with a hateful glare in the direction of the Selemur alliance outside the camp. Lavaro and Layavi pulled on the hem of his shirt anxiously, and he looked at them with a forced smile before picking them up into his arms and placing them onto the saddle of a fresh Shinoon.


    A Gadat horn reached their ears, answered by many more. The cavalry among the empire''s reinforcements had caught up to them, led by none other than Fau Tu. Mong Rau had given him orders to drive the barbarians into the fangs of the Selemur army to the north and keep their own losses to a minimum. They could not rely on the collaborators to not attack them, so this pincer maneuver could not turn into a full encirclement.


    Amiro saw through that fact when he noticed the Gadat army''s eastern and western wings not moving in step with the central main army as they approached. He led the Zakhira tribe to the west, traveling under the cover of the burning camp. The fight was over; this was the only path to survival.


    Viyal originally thought the coalition army could stand united against the Selemur alliance and defeat them with their superior numbers. But she realized that the warriors had lost their will to fight now that most of their families had been slaughtered. An army with low morale was doomed to defeat. Thus, they had to sacrifice the other tribes who were too slow to escape so that their people could get out of this situation alive.


    She looked back at the burning camp, wondering where Altuna was. The Selemur and Shuva were mortal enemies, so they would likely target them above all the other steppe people. Who knew how many they slaughtered in the Shaankhor camp if the Zakhira were already in pieces like this? She could only pray that Altuna and her family made it out alive.


    They were finally out of the coalition camp and on the open plains. With no fire and smoke to hide them, the Selemur and Gadat could see them making a break for the wide gap between their wings. Both sides sent a detachment of a few hundred to chase after them, but the saber-toothed beasts soon gave up. They were like the Nokkoy, capable of running as fast as Shinoona carrying riders. However, they recognized that it would tire them out too much to fight after they caught up, so they turned back and left it to the Gadat.


    The Samagshin riders soon caught up to the Zakhira tribe''s rear and unleashed crossbows into their backs. They were slower than usual because they had civilians who were not especially skilled at riding among them. Rowen broke away from them and led a small detachment to hold them back to ensure the tribe''s escape. It was his way of atoning for what he perceived to have been his failure.


    However, the Gadat did not let themselves get entangled more than necessary. They left behind equal numbers to keep Rowen''s unit occupied while the majority split off to continue the pursuit. Thus, harried by crossbow fire, the Zakhira tribe''s remnants continued their hasty escape.


    Amiro looked back repeatedly, staring past the pursuers as he drove his Shinoon onward. Finally, he decided that they had come far enough and let out a roar, raising his spear high. The entire tribe came to a stop and made their stand. The sudden shift surprised the Samagshin, and they were too slow to change directions. A volley of arrows felled dozens of them, and the Zakhira warriors rode forth to clash with them.


    Viyal looked past the battle and found Rowen''s detachment coming over a hill. They soon hit the enemy soldiers in the rear, inducing a rout. Within minutes, the Gadat scattered in every direction, and the Zakhira were safe. Of course, that was not true in the grand scheme of things. They had to continue running as far as they could to leave the Selemur alliance or the empire''s reach.


    A long and arduous ride to safety lay ahead of them.

 Chapter 23 - The Survivors

    "Thank you," Viyal took the cup of warm milk that Mamai brought her. The little Diao bowed and stood aside, slightly unsteady on her feet.


    The Zakhira tribe''s remnants, less than a fourth of the number they arrived in the Sunrise Lowlands with, had been traveling west for the past month. With most of their belongings stolen or burned and no time to take down any tents during their escape, they largely had to camp out in the open. The increasingly cold winter temperatures took a toll on them, as did the lack of food. Most of their Shinoona herd had been taken by the Selemur raiders or scattered in all directions during the fire. They were able to round up a few dozen of them along the way, but it would not be enough to last the tribe until the thawing season.


    Most of the elders had been killed in the attack, and even the Takheleh had not been spared. Without a shaman, a tribe was said to invite only disaster. Thus, even in these trying times, they held a ceremony and appointed one of the previous Takheleh''s helpers to fill the position until they could request one from the Temple of Time.


    During their journey, they had to contend with more than just the worsening weather. Several times, they were attacked by Selemur marauders tracking the ailing tribe across a vast distance. Unlike the Gadat, who only wanted to carve out new territory and did not venture far from their new border, they were people of the steppe. They would not give up the chase easily.


    Many fell ill from the arduous journey. Most were civilians who had weaker constitutions than the warriors. Among them was Viyal''s mother, who had to ride a Shinoon since they could not bring a cart during their escape. Whenever they were not moving, she lay in one of the few tents they could construct with the materials at hand, resting as much time as was afforded her before they had to continue the journey.


    "I will not invoke the privilege of the chief when my tribe is facing such hardships," Amiro had responded when Viyal requested to separate her mother from the other sickly people. "And it is his family''s duty to share their boons, not enjoy them alone. Only then will we all survive together."


    Viyal''s concern was the transmission of diseases among the already weakened people. However, the knowledge of bacteria and viruses did not exist in this age, so she could not convince him to separate the sick somehow. All she could do was be by Nayavi''s side and give her some of her own food to supplement the lack of nutrients.


    Every hint of hope and joy had disappeared in the Zakhira tribe. Starving and freezing, all they could do was trudge on and pray to Azakhal. Their goal was to return to their seasonal migration route and hopefully come across a wild Shinoona herd to feed themselves along the way. Nobody even mentioned the threat of the Gadat invasion anymore. Such ideals were lost on people who could think only about survival.


    "They are too deep in their burrows now. I could only catch these two," Yunil approached with her Gadat halberd over her shoulder. Dangling from it on a rope were two Manakha, large rodent-like animals that normally hibernated through the winter. These must have been unable to fatten themselves enough and woken up from hunger. They had little meat on their bones left and would satiate few people for the day.


    The warriors who were not on watch or scouting duty ceaselessly headed out to hunt and forage. But it was the depth of winter now, so most animals had either already left these transitory regions or were hidden away deep underground, awaiting spring. No traders would pass through here, either, and even if they did, the Zakhira did not have much to trade for food these days.


    Viyal welcomed Yunil back with the best smile she could muster under these circumstances. She looked at the tent behind her and said, "We should give some to Mother."


    "I will cook in soup," Mamai came forward and offered to help. Be it that she was afraid the tribe would eat her or Viyal always treated her well, the little Diao servant had grown increasingly helpful over the past month.


    As Viyal watched Mamai carry the two Manakha away, Yunil sat on the carpet beside her and spoke with a distant gaze, "Mannogur would have made a feast of those two skinny things."


    The tribe''s jovial chief cook had not made it out of the coalition camp that day, among many others. Viyal looked at her sister with a sad expression, then turned away. Realizing she had opened a barely healed wound, Yunil panicked and tried to find another topic to take her sister''s mind off things.


    "Lavaro will soon start riding lessons," the Nokkoy said in a forcefully hopeful tone, looking out across the steppe where their small Shinoona herd dug in the snow to graze. It did not fall much, but it continued to pile up every day. Soon, it would slow down their journey even more than the sick civilians already did.


    Viyal looked at her sister and gave her a wry smile. Through all hardships, she stayed by her side and never fell into despair. As the elder sister and the much older soul, she needed to pull herself together and use her otherworldly knowledge to get them out of this situation somehow.


    "A lone rider approaches!" a voice cried out across the Zakhira camp, and a wave of hope but also worry gripped the people. It could be a survivor of their tribe who escaped the slaughter on the Sunrise Lowlands, however unlikely that seemed. But it also could be a messenger from the Ishtemur, giving them an ultimatum that Amiro would doubtlessly refuse.


    "It''s a Shuva!" Viyal soon heard another voice among the clamor. She jumped up and ran where everybody pointed, Yunil close on her tail. In the distance, a lone Shuva riding on a Hyarul crossed a hill and slowed down. The cry of a Sanhor echoed across the steppe, and Viyal looked up to see the bird in question flying down to land on the Shuva''s shoulder.


    "Altuna?" Yunil shielded her narrowed eyes and stared at the rider as she approached. The Sanhor suddenly flew up as the Shuva collapsed on her mount, revealing several arrows in her back. "She''s wounded!"


    With these words, she let out a high-pitched howl. Her Shinoon followed her call and approached, and she rode out to help the unconscious Altuna. Viyal watched as she took the Hyarul''s reins and rode beside it while making sure the Shuva did not fall off. They soon arrived at the edge of the encampment, where several Zakhira warriors approached them. However, they were deterred by the giant bird''s snapping beak, as it did not want to let anybody get close to its master. Only Yunil showed no fear and pulled Altuna off its back as it nervously pecked at the Nokkoy''s head. They were light taps rather than attacks, showing that it recognized her.


    As Yunil carried Altuna into the camp on her back, Viyal heard the onlookers whisper among themselves. They complained that the tribe was already in a bad state, so they could not afford charity for one who was not their own. She could not find the words to rebut them. If the Shuva in question were not her friend, she would perhaps have thought the same way.


    They brought Altuna to the tent where Nayavi rested and made room to lay her on her stomach. The new Takheleh came by to examine her. As a shaman under Azakhal, she was versed in medicine, but her ritualistic chanting and use of incense felt like a waste of time to Viyal. Finally, the arrows were removed from the unconscious Shuva''s back, and the wounds were dressed.


    Viyal caressed Altuna''s cheek feathers and noted the dark rings under her eyes. She was emaciated and had been covered in dust and grime when they found her, a far cry from her usually perfectly groomed appearance. Judging by the fact that she was here alone, perhaps the Shaankhor had been scattered in all directions or completely annihilated. What had she lived through in the past month? They would know once she woke up and told them.


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    Altuna''s eyes suddenly snapped open. She pushed herself up and grabbed Viyal''s hand with blinding speed. Then she noticed her friend, and all the desperate strength drained from her body. She fell back onto the bed, grimacing in pain as best as her mostly expressionless face could manage.


    "Rest now. You are... safe here," Viyal said, putting a hand on Altuna''s forehead. She was reluctant to say that she had made it to safety by coming to their camp. Bands of Selemur had attacked them quite frequently over the past month, and the only reason they had not been wiped out was that they were from the minor tribes rather than the Ishtemur''s main army.


    "They killed everyone," Altuna said and squeezed her eyes shut. The Shaankhor princess usually did not show her emotions, be it her personality or Viyal''s inability to recognize them due to her bird features. However, now, for the first time, she could tell; the Shuva''s voice was shaky, and tears squeezed through her closed eyelids, running down her incredibly long eyelashes. But she quickly flapped them open again and looked up at Viyal with terror. "I see them whenever I close my eyes."


    Altuna relived the moment her elder sisters pushed her back and headed into the fray. Toragan was ordered to bring her to safety and pulled her away from the battle. When she looked back, she saw her mother abandon her stilt shoes and scratch at a Selemur warrior while swinging her spear. The next time she was able to turn around as she sat atop her mount, her mother and sisters stood alone, surrounded by enemies.


    As she rode away with her younger sisters, their guards were felled one by one. Finally, they left behind the burning camp with fewer than a hundred survivors. But the Selemur and the Gadat pursued them relentlessly; they were members of the Shaankhor, the sworn enemy of the Ishtemur and the leaders of the coalition against the Omagala Empire. None of them could be allowed to escape, for they would doubtlessly rise again and return for revenge.


    Toragan suddenly stopped and turned around with a handful of guards to make a stand and slow the pursuers. Altuna could not bring herself to keep watching when they fought to the last while being shot by crossbow bolts. So many had sacrificed themselves so that she could live. With the weight of their lives on her shoulders, she drove her Hyarul onward.


    She heard screams around her but dared not turn to look. Rider and mount had to become one to achieve the great speed that could outrun the incredibly fleet-footed Selemur. Even a moment of inattention could spell her doom, so she could only close her heart to the deaths of her sisters and their few remaining guards.


    Finally, the cries and roars behind her faded into the distance, and there was only the wind in her ears. They had escaped their immediate pursuers, but it was only a matter of time before the Selemur tracked them. She finally looked around to encourage her sisters to keep running but realized that she was alone. Yet, she was not given time to mourn as bandits attacked her. They had stayed at a safe distance from the war and watched the situation unfold, looking for opportunities to capture slaves from the defeated side.


    However, they were too slow to catch up to her Hyarul, and she escaped once again. But her suffering would not end there. Selemur hunters, Gadat scouts, and bandits would come after her again and again. A lone Shuva on the steppe was an easy target, more so after they learned that the Shaankhor had been destroyed. She was not given time to rest and continued to run without aim, only looking to survive. Eventually, she was shot in the back by frustrated slavers unable to capture her.


    If not for Ravi returning to her and guiding her to the Zakhira tribe, she would likely have died alone on the endless winter steppe. Now, she could mourn her family and tribe and maintain their memory for the day they could be rebuilt.


    "You are quite optimistic," Viyal said with a wry smile. Given the state they were in now, she did not have that kind of outlook on the future. Her tribe was being whittled down by the cold, starvation, and constant raids. There seemed to be no hope for them to bounce back from this despair. How could this lone Shuva, perhaps the sole survivor of her tribe, wounded and reliant on the goodwill of a people in no position to help even themselves, be thinking about rebuilding it?


    "If I were not, I would have nothing else," Altuna said, averting her gaze. Viyal stared at her friend in shock. It made her aware that she had let herself down more than anything else.


    "You have us," she gathered her thoughts and declared. She was Akashi Shizuru, a chosen one born to lead, reincarnated into a world promised to be hers for the taking. She would die before she gave up on her destiny. "We will help you."


    Altuna looked up at Viyal with surprise in her eyes. Yunil nodded beside her sister in agreement. The last Shaankhor princess gave a teary smile in response. She had known the first time they met that Viyal was a great person. Fate had brought her together with this young Mosyv for a reason.


    An incessant coughing fit interrupted their moment, and Viyal jumped up from Altuna''s bedside. It was Nayavi, writhing under her sheets. Viyal quickly brought her a cup of water and helped her sit up to drink. She had been coughing like this for the past few days. It sounded dry and wheezing, and it was extremely painful in her throat and chest.


    It was not like the flu from Shizuru''s world but something deeper and more destructive. This world''s remedies were limited to herbs and prayers, and she did not have enough knowledge from her previous life to try and replicate modern medicine here. All she could do was alleviate her mother''s symptoms with the little means available to her.


    "I''ll get you something to eat," Viyal said, standing up from Nayavi''s bedside. But she grabbed her daughter''s hand and held her back.


    "No, I have no appetite right now. Give it to the others here," she argued, looking across the sick in the tent.


    "I will bring something for them, too," responded Viyal, hiding her mixed feelings with a smile. She walked out of the tent and went to look for Mamai.


    "She will make for a great leader someday," Altuna commented, feeling sleepiness overcome her.


    "She already is," said Yunil with a confident grin that showed off her sharp canines. The Shuva looked at the Nokkoy''s expression with an eyebrow raised, then smiled and drifted off into exhausted slumber.


    She was too tired to hear Lavaro and Layavi burst into the tent and run over to their aunt. With their mother gone, they clung to Nayavi as a replacement. It was only natural, especially since most of the children their age had not made it out of the coalition camp. Their father was always tired from fighting and hunting, and Viyal did not give them much time, either.


    "Look, I will be wearing this for my first riding lesson," Lavaro showed off his silken outfit, posing with a short staff in lieu of a spear. The dark blue outfit was slightly too large for him, but it was one of the few they had been able to carry with them during the escape.


    "You already look like a little warrior," Nayavi said with a smile and nodded weakly in approval. Even if she was sick, she needed to be a good replacement parent for her sister''s children now.


    "Here, I embroidered this," Layavi said with childish confidence, showing off a square cloth featuring what could be recognized as a rather abstract Shinoon jumping over a hill. She had improved rapidly under her mother''s tutelage, but Nayavi had not been able to teach her much due to her health problems.


    "That looks amazing," she praised her with a warm smile, suppressing the urge to cough. However, it became unbearable, and she turned away to release it.


    "Come, you two. Auntie needs to rest." Yunil picked up the twins by their waists and quickly carried them out of the tent. Viyal told her about the concerns of disease transmission, and while she did not understand everything she said, she trusted her sister''s judgment. It was best to keep the children and the elderly away from the sick. Not that there were many elderly left in the tribe.


    Lavaro and Layavi knew better than to struggle against their big sister. They had watched her beating most other warriors of the tribe during training despite still being so young. Once she became an adult, she would surely become a pillar of the tribe like Rowen was now. The Zakhira would rise again in due time.


    Viyal returned with Mamai, carrying a large pot of steaming soup together with the little Diao. Yunil placed the twins down in front of the tent and held the flap open for them. She then turned to the children again, who looked up at her expectantly. "Don''t come in here anymore. You don''t want to get sick, do you?"


    Lavaro and Layavi exchanged a look with each other, then nodded reluctantly. Yunil pat their heads and entered the tent to help with the food distribution. Lavaro pouted at the lack of attention he got and trudged away, swinging his staff around in the air as if fighting invisible enemies.


    Layavi looked down at her embroidery, then peeked into the tent through a crack in the flap where her sisters began helping the sick up to feed them. She felt an itch in her throat and coughed it up before shaking from head to toe to warm herself up. With another look at the tent, she followed her brother''s footprints in the snow.

 Chapter 24 - Destiny Revealed

    The day of Lavaro''s first ride finally arrived a week later. It was the first joyous occasion in a long time, and a sense of hope spread through the tribe. They had not been attacked by marauders or bandits recently, so it felt like the dark times were finally over. With the Mosyv boy''s initiation, perhaps a new chapter could begin in the Zakhira tribe''s young history.


    All those who were not on hunting or lookout duty gathered to watch Gavro help his son onto their mildest-mannered Shinoon steed. It was not a test of his talent but a symbolic gesture. The real training would begin the next day. Lavaro wore his dark blue silken outfit and carried a child-sized tasseled ceremonial spear. He looked positively princely, putting on a calm and proud demeanor as he finally sat securely atop his mount. His father led the Shinoon by the reins and walked it past the gathered onlookers as his son waved to them regally.


    A sense of history being written before their eyes filled the tribe. Lavaro was prophesized to become a hero who would drive the Gadat off the steppes for three generations. They could see the spirit of the future looming over him, a mighty Mosyv warrior leading an army the size of which the steppe had never seen before.


    Viyal breathed the cold winter air deeply, pride filling her chest. But then she noticed Layavi swaying on her feet beside her. When she looked at her little cousin''s face, it was redder than the coldness warranted. She turned to her mother, whose condition had improved enough over the past few days to come out and watch the ceremony. Nayavi noticed her daughter''s expression and furrowed her brow in concern.


    "I think Layavi is not doing so well," Viyal whispered. She did not want to interrupt the joyous occasion since the tribe needed this moment.


    "What''s wrong with her?" Yunil overheard their conversation and bent down to look at Layavi''s face. She touched her nose to the little Mosyv''s forehead and grimaced. "She has a high fever."


    "She seemed fine this morning," said Nayavi, feeling her niece''s temperature. "We have to get her in a warm place quickly."


    "Go. I will tide your absence over," Amiro suddenly said behind them. Viyal and Yunil nodded, and the Nokkoy picked her cousin up carefully. The chief stepped past them and clapped his hands. "My nephew is a sight to behold. He will surely surpass his father in due time and become the hero he was promised to be!"


    As everybody joined Amiro and cheered, Viyal and Yunil quickly stole off between the distracted onlookers and headed for one of the least-occupied tents with their cousin. As a child, her immune system was weaker than that of adults, so she needed even more medical attention. Viyal sent Mamai to fetch fresh snow to melt in a bucket and Yunil to bring the Takheleh.


    A while later, Gavro burst in on the soothsayer''s prayer over his sleeping daughter. He stopped himself from calling out to Layavi and watched over her silently. When he saw Viyal sitting next to her bed, he nodded gratefully. She returned the nod with a smile. It was only natural to tend to her cousin. In these trying times, they had to stick together more than ever.


    When the Takheleh left the tent, Gavro finally sat down beside Layavi and caressed her cheek. She did not respond to the touch and continued to slumber uneasily. Viyal motioned to replace the cold, wet cloth on her forehead, but Gavro stopped her. "I will do it. You should get some rest, lest you fall ill, too."


    "I''m fine," Viyal said but handed him the cloth nonetheless. She was not particularly tired, but seeing her uncle caring for his daughter so lovingly moved her heart. He was a towering, muscle-packed man who could bash in Selemur heads with his bare hands. Yet, now he held a small cloth in his fingers and placed it on Layavi''s forehead delicately.


    Viyal quietly exited the tent and walked past the one where Altuna rested. After receiving food and medicine, the Shuva''s condition improved quickly. She had a strong body and an even stronger mind, so she would recover before long. It would be a few weeks before she could walk around again, but things started to look up. Not just for Altuna but for the entire tribe.


    However, Layavi''s condition did not improve, and her fever continued to rise over the next few days. The Takheleh tried every remedy and prayer in her repertoire, but she admitted that her abilities were limited. Only a soothsayer who completed their training would know what to do in this situation.


    "I will ride for the Temple of Time and bring back a Takheleh immediately," Gavro declared while readying his gear.


    "No, Brother, the tribe needs you. I will send our fastest riders instead," Amiro grabbed his wrist and stopped him.


    "That''s wrong, Father. Forget the tribe. Layavi needs you," Viyal stood at the tent door and corrected her father. He furrowed his brow but then sighed in agreement.


    Hearing his niece''s argument, Gavro dropped his equipment and hung his head in powerlessness. She was right. He could never forgive himself if Layavi''s illness worsened due to his absence. His presence was surely more effective than any prayer. He would have to rely on the envoys to bring back a Takheleh as quickly as possible.


    The same afternoon, seven warriors led by Yava, the female Khevelir warband leader of the Sakhatul, departed the tribe and rode westward. Gavro watched them anxiously until they disappeared over the horizon before returning to Layavi''s bedside. All he could do now was tending to her diligently.


    A few days later, tragedy struck.


    While Gavro remained by his daughter''s side day and night, Lavaro''s riding lessons progressed. The boy was mature enough to understand that Layavi needed his father more than he did. Still, he grew reckless from worry and rushed his training. He would drive his Shinoon onward faster than the instructor told him to and lost control a few times.


    One of those times, he did not regain it. The Shinoon galloped out of the camp, followed by the riding instructor and several warriors trying to save the boy. Their chasing only spooked it further, and it started to move erratically. However, that caused it to stumble and fall over itself.


    Lavaro, whose feet were tangled in the stirrups, was not thrown off into a relatively safe landing in the snow. Instead, he ended up buried underneath the Shinoon''s body, its weight crushing him from the waist down. The warriors stopped the beast before it got back up and dragged the boy along, but the damage was already done. They carefully carried him back to the camp and informed his father.


    Gavro collapsed by Lavaro''s bedside and shook all over. Viyal had only seen him like this once when he found Zalavi''s body. It was clear that the boy would not survive his injuries. Even modern medicine would have been hard-pressed to do anything, let alone what this medieval world could achieve.


    The people of the tribe could only watch in impotent agony as Gavro cried beside his feverish boy as he slipped in and out of consciousness from the shock and pain. He held his child''s hand throughout the night and felt it growing colder in the morning hours. Then, shortly after sunrise, Lavaro took his last rattling breath.


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    "No, this can''t be," Gavro pleaded and shook the boy''s lifeless hand, fearful of hurting him. But there was no response, no matter how he tried. His hands hovered over Lavaro''s broken body, afraid to touch him as if it would cause him pain still, looking for something, anything he could do. "You were destined for greatness. You can''t die like this!"


    Nobody could say a word to console Gavro; no words could do his loss justice. He cried bitter tears, pleading to Azakhal to return his boy and take him instead. Of course, there was no answer; their god was silent as ever. The towering Mosyv let out a howl of anguish like a mortally wounded beast and hugged Lavaro''s cold body like he had his wife''s not so long ago.


    Yet, it seemed fate would deem Gavro''s suffering insufficient. Nayavi came into the tent on shaky legs, tears running down her face. Even before Lavaro''s body was fully cold, she had come to report that Layavi had passed away from her fever. As if she had sensed her twin brother''s death, she lost her will to live and followed him into the afterlife.


    Gavro could not even muster a whimper as he stumbled out of the tent, carrying his son''s body under the pitiful gazes of his people. He laid Lavaro down beside the lifeless Layavi and caressed their cheeks, sobbing voicelessly. So devastated was he that he could not speak a single word.


    Viyal stood outside and covered her crying face. She could not even imagine what her uncle must feel like when even her heart was broken like this. Her mother staggered over and hugged her quietly. Then, Amiro put his strong arms around them, cradling them both. He could offer no solace to any of them and shook from his feeling of impotence. What use was he as a great chief, unable to save his own nephew and niece, unable to keep his brother from grief?


    Thus, the Zakhira tribe sunk into mourning.


    A lookout woke up Amiro and reported that Gavro had left the camp on a Shinoon by himself. It was the third day after the twins had died, right on the morning after the mourning period for them had ended. He was seen confronting the Takheleh about his children''s prophecies before his departure westward.


    Gavro rode like the wind. He needed answers, answers nobody but the Akhma Merkheleh could provide. In his state of grief, nothing else mattered now. His wife had fulfilled her prophecy when they married. However, his children had their whole future before them. Why had they been saved from the Selemur betrayal only to die by something as mundane as a riding accident and a fever?


    Lavaro was supposed to become a hero of the steppe. Layavi should have embroidered the flag of the steppe people for all time to come. They had barely taken their first steps toward fulfilling their prophecies. How could their lives have been cut so tragically short? They were destined to become figures who would go down in the steppe people''s legends!


    Gavro scarcely rested, only giving his Shinoon time to regain its strength before he continued his journey. Days turned into weeks, and his body weakened from hunger and lack of sleep. Still, his singular focus was such that he did not feel any of it. Grief and simmering rage drove him beyond the limits of any living being.


    On the twelfth day, he caught up to Yava and her men. They rode the fastest Shinoona and had barely taken a break, but Gavro''s indomitable will seemed to have driven his stronger but slower mount beyond its limits. She urged him to rest when she saw him with sunken cheeks and dark rings under his eyes, knowing the worst had happened.


    Finally, Gavro was convinced to slow down and ride with her. She had followed him into battle against the Gadat and the Selemur. To her and her warriors, he was just as much their chief as Amiro was. They tended to his every need even when he barely spoke a word in return and made sure he did not collapse during the journey.


    Around noon on the twenty-seventh day since his departure, the snow-capped mountains of the West came into view. Gavro''s sunken eyes lit up with purpose again when he beheld them in the distance. The destination of his quest for answers was right before him now. His eight followers were swept up in his second wind, and they drove their Shinoona onward into the lands under Azakhal''s protection.


    Three days later, they saw the Temple of Time towering over the city at the lake. It was discourteous to ride quickly in this holiest of sanctuaries, but Gavro cared not for decorum. Their Shinoona kicked up the gravel path as they stormed through the city, scaring the peace-loving people inside as they jumped out of the way.


    However, they saw the emaciated Mosyv at the head of the riders. As he passed the statue of Valoro standing in the center of the city, they were hit with a flash of understanding. His appearance closely resembled the First Akhma Merkheleh; perhaps a divine revelation was at hand.


    Finally, Gavro stopped at the foot of the winding path up the mountain and dismounted. Even if he was stricken with grief and could not think straight, violating the laws of Azakhal was something his very blood would not abide. Yava and her men waited below as he took to foot and climbed the narrow path up to the Temple of Time.


    Despite being exhausted and starving from the journey, he walked steadily under the watchful eyes of Azakhal and climbed the mountain quickly. When he finally stood before the grand arch, the two guards in the alcoves beheld Gavro and bowed their heads. They recognized a man who had lost everything and sought only answers.


    The monks inside did the same, silently expressing their respect for the Mosyv so reminiscent of Valoro. He paid them no heed and continued into the main hall as the bell announcing his arrival rang out. An elderly monk came to guide Gavro, but he walked past him without even noticing his presence.


    His eyes were focused on the very back of the hall, where the elevated platform was steeped in twilight, illuminated only by candles. On the fallen log sat the current Akhma Merkheleh, a young Khevelir with the air of a wise man. He opened his piercing yellow eyes and watched Gavro approach him on steady feet.


    "Welcome, Gavro of the Zakhira," he spoke, opening his palm slowly in a gesture for him to sit. His was the voice of Azakhal, his words the proclamations of a god. When the Mosyv was seated, he continued, "I regret the reason for your pilgrimage, truly."


    To Gavro''s surprise, a tear appeared in the Akhma Merkheleh''s eye and ran down his cheek. It dripped onto the platform and darkened the stone surface. The Mosyv knew that the Akhma Merkheleh was different from the soothsayers that accompanied every tribe. He saw the movements of the stars themselves and could pierce the mist of time as if parting tall grass to view the open steppe beyond. Of course, he would know of his situation.


    "If you knew this would happen, why did you not instruct your Takheleh to warn us?" Gavro found himself blurting out, shocking himself. But the Akhma Merkheleh took no offense and looked at the Mosyv with his inscrutable gaze.


    "You were most unfortunate. What should have been was distorted by an unexpected arrival. But perhaps that, too, was preordained," he finally said with a distant look at the darkness above.


    "What do you mean? What unexpected arrival?" asked Gavro patiently.


    "The Omen Child was born in this generation," responded the Akhma Merkheleh, putting his palms together as if to capture the words between them. "A soul bearing a destiny far heavier than any other in this world. She now walks among us. It is her fate to die before she sees the thirteenth day of her birth or live to conquer the world."


    "Viyal," Gavro muttered in realization. With this, everything came together.


    She was an aberration among aberrations, a lone-born child of Mosyvvi, a being touched by moonlight, showing wisdom beyond her years. She was the Omen Child, a being destined to change the entire world. His family had merely been caught up in Viyal''s grand prophecy. Only her future mattered in the flow of time. Her actions were like rocks thrown into a river, and everybody else was akin to leaf boats being tossed about or sunk by the whims of fate.


    "Why did brother not confide in me?" Gavro spoke to himself.


    "Because he was afraid that the truth would spread. The fewer mouths to speak of it, the better to keep a secret," the Akhma Merkheleh provided the answer in an impartial tone.


    "But I am his brother." The Mosyv looked up at the elder of the mountain in confusion. "Why would he not trust me with the truth?"


    "It would not have changed anything," came the heartless response.


    "My children. They were destined to die before their time because of the Omen Child''s existence?" asked Gavro in a shaky voice.


    "Perhaps they could have been saved once. Perhaps twice. But the Omen Child is a distortion of what is and what will be. She has decided to embrace her prophecy. Thus, all will fall in line with her choice," the Akhma Merkheleh explained calmly.


    Gavro stood up and turned away. The monks in the vicinity looked upon the towering but emaciated Mosyv with disapproval, but the voice of Azakhal did not speak up. They deferred to Akhma Merkheleh''s silence as approval of this act, which would otherwise be considered disrespectful.


    With staggering steps, Gavro walked out of the Temple of Time. His mind was in turmoil. He was unable to form a coherent thought. All he knew was that his wife and children were dead because of the Omen Child''s existence. His beloved brother had lied to him. His beloved niece was the reason for his suffering and grief.


    Die before she was thirteen years old, or live to conquer the world. Had she not already tumbled down the path toward the former conclusion? The steppe people had lost against the Gadat; the Zakhira were in shambles. There was already no path toward conquest left for Viyal. But her destiny was so grand that she would pull them all along with her into destruction. Everybody would die with her.


    That implication severed the last string that held together Gavro''s faltering sanity.

 Chapter 25 - The Tribe Crumbles

    Yava watched Gavro stumble back from the Temple of Time with a blank face of despair. She could not fathom what he had learned but did not want to ask him when he was so clearly distressed. The towering Mosyv did not seem to notice her presence and sat up on his Shinoon to ride off alone. Yava exchanged a worried look with her warriors, then followed Gavro.


    As they left the lake behind them, his expression straightened into one of grim resolve. Even as his thoughts had spiraled toward the inevitable conclusion, one part of him had denied what he needed to do. But even rational thinking led him to the same result. He did not want to admit it, but there was no other choice.


    "Yava," he called out to the Khevelir warrior for the first time since they met on this journey.


    "Here!" she responded, sensing that what followed would be important.


    "Do you love the tribe?" but to her surprise, Gavro asked this.


    "Yes!" Yava answered without hesitation.


    "How far are you willing to go to protect it?"


    "I would lay down my life."


    "I see," Gavro said and remained quiet afterward. Yava wondered what that was about. What had he learned from the Akhma Merkheleh? Had they not come here to escort a new Takheleh back to the tribe? Why were they leaving empty-handed now?


    The journey back was a rush, just as before. But when they left the lands under Azakhal''s protection, the first thing Gavro did was order a hunt. Their supplies had dwindled to the point that they would starve to death before they reached the tribe. It showed that their leader regained his senses and overcame his grief.


    It was still winter, but the mountainous region had more active wildlife than the open steppe. For the first time since the coalition, the warriors were able to enjoy a fulfilling meal with leftovers to spare. Gavro ate like a man determined to live and thrive. He needed to make up for all that he had lost during their journey, but it felt like he only did it out of a sense of duty.


    "Can you tell us what you learned?" Yava asked after the meal when Gavro sat beside the fire and stared up at the darkening sky. He did not answer for the longest time, making her think he ignored her. The other warriors exchanged worried glances, but nobody wanted to start another conversation before Yava gave up herself.


    But the Khevelir continued to watch Gavro, awaiting the time he would be ready to answer. And her devotion was finally rewarded after the sun finally set beyond the mountains and the first stars appeared in the night sky.


    "Our tribe is on the path toward destruction," he began, causing his followers to stare at him in shock. "The Omen Child walks among us. We are all part of her destiny now."


    "Lady Viyal," Yava muttered in realization. She immediately made the connection, as there was no other person in their tribe who could be the promised conqueror under Azakhal.


    "Your elder, Daruna was her name. She saw through her the first time they met." Gavro lowered his gaze and stared into the fire. He sniffed in self-deprecation. Back then, he truly believed the elderly Jagul was senile and babbled nonsense. But even if the truth about her had come out at the time, he would have celebrated her since the tribe seemed to be on the path to success.


    However, now was different. Knowing what he did, he could only see that the tribe''s destruction was imminent. The Omen Child was heading down the path of death, and her grand destiny drew everybody into it. Viyal needed to die now so that what remained of the tribe could be saved.


    Yava finally understood the expression of despair on Gavro''s face when he returned from the mountain. He had already lost his wife and children. Now, he had to contemplate killing his niece. It was too much to bear for one soul, even if it was a soul that had shone so brilliantly on the battlefield before.


    "I... we will not let you shoulder this burden," she declared, looking across the other seven warriors, who nodded in assent. They understood that this was the only solution now. If Viyal''s destiny was to die before her thirteenth day of birth, it could take any number of forms. "The tribe needs you. If you were the one to do it, a rift would form between you and the chief. Let us become the criminals in your place. We would all gladly lay down our lives so that our people can survive."


    Gavro stared at the faces of his eight followers in surprise. She was talking about treason and murdering the child of the tribe''s chief, his brother''s daughter. But he could not say anything to rebut them. After all, he had long since resolved himself to do the same. He knew his brother would never understand. No father could. If their positions were reversed, he would rather die with his children than let anybody kill them.


    "I alone will do it." She looked across the faces of her men with a meaningful gaze. A Mosyv Viyal might be, but she was only a child. Only one of them needed to make this sacrifice and become a traitor to the tribe, and she would be the one to bear that crime.


    "No," Gavro disagreed. "The rift was formed long ago. I simply was unaware of it until I learned the truth."


    He did not hate his brother. No, he still loved him. That was why he had to do this. Amiro would go down with Viyal, and the tribe would be destroyed all the same. Only the Omen Child needed to die, nobody else.


    "We need to end this the right way," he continued with a look into the flames. A plan began to form in his mind, one he would have been disgusted by before all of this. Now, there was only determination.


    Gavro and his eight followers continued the journey silently, hunting for food along the way and regaining their strength. Such was their determination that they did not speak a word to each other and honed themselves for the upcoming plan.


    Twenty-two days later, in the early afternoon, they found their way back to the Zakhira camp, carrying some game they hunted on the backs of their Shinoona to share with the tribe. The tribe had steadily traveled westward to meet them halfway, so the return journey had been much shorter.


    The camp had shrunk noticeably from when they left, causing them to exchange worried glances. They must have been attacked by raiders again. Amiro rode out with a few warriors to greet them. He looked genuinely glad to see his brother and headed straight for him. "Brother! You are all right!"


    Gavro climbed down his Shinoon and walked the last few steps toward Amiro. He wore a troubled expression, causing his brother''s relieved smile to freeze over. Of course, the wounds caused by his loss were still fresh even after nearly two months. It was insensitive of him to express joy under such circumstances.


    "Did you not bring back a Takheleh?" Amiro looked past Gavro and peered up at his followers. They were the same eight he had sent out, wearing somber expressions. "What happened?"


    "Yava, go distribute the food to the tribe," Gavro avoided the question and ordered the Khevelir with a meaningful nod toward the camp. Then he addressed Amiro''s entourage, "I would like to speak with my brother alone."


    The guards bowed and headed back to the camp with Yava''s men. Gavro gestured for his brother to walk with him and sent his Shinoon off. Amiro did the same and followed Gavro with a worried frown. He could sense that something was not right with his atmosphere and grabbed him by the arm. "Brother, speak to me. What happened on your journey?"


    "I met the Akhma Merkheleh to find answers," he responded without turning around. "I know now why my children died with their prophecies unfulfilled."


    Amiro let go of Gavro''s arm and lowered his gaze as sadness spread through his heart. He had pushed aside their memory for a while because the tribe faced many troubles from within and without since then. But Lavaro and Layavi had been his family, too, and not enough time had passed to bury the loss deep enough with new memories to numb the pain.


    They walked silently for a while before Gavro spoke again, "My children were swallowed by a grander prophecy. That of the Omen Child."


    Amiro froze at those words, and Gavro finally turned to face him. There was no more sadness in his gaze, only determination. It was the look of a man who had lost everything but found something new to hold onto. Amiro was unsure what that was, but a terrifying thought overcame him.


    "Brother, look at our people. How many died since I left? How many more must die before you see the truth?"


    "What are you saying?"


    "Viyal is destined to die now, and we are all going down with her," Gavro gave voice to that thought.


    "No, that is not true!" Amiro denied it vehemently. "The Zakhira will rise again, and she will live to conquer the world!"


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    Gavro hung his head, sorrow distorting his face. He knew his brother would not be able to see it; after all, he had not lost anybody yet. His wife''s illness faded, and his children were all alive. But it was only a matter of time. The Zakhira camp was smaller now than it had been at Viyal''s birth. How far would they fall before her destiny was fulfilled?


    "We will see, then. Let Azakhal decide today," he finally said, wearing an anguished expression. Amiro stared at him in confusion. Then his eyes widened, and he turned to look at the camp.


    "What do you mean?" he spun around and demanded to know. When Gavro did not respond, Amiro grabbed his vest and roared at him, "What did you do?!"


    His brother remained silent, causing Amiro to let go of him and run back to the camp. However, he felt a sharp pain in the back of his left thigh and spun around to find his brother retracting his stinger. A Mosyv''s venom was not particularly effective against another of their kind. Still, it caused his leg to seize up, and he tumbled to the ground.


    "What are you doing?" He tried to stand back up, but his left leg would not listen to him. "Stop this madness!"


    Gavro ignored him and walked toward the camp, dark determination clouding his face.


    Yava picked up a Gadat sword from the armory and headed for the chief''s tent. One of her men found out that Viyal was resting with her mother in their tent. Another reported that Noro and Saro were out hunting with their wives and a group of warriors so they would not get in the way. The Khevelir already felt apprehension about killing a child, but doing it in front of their parent would be unbearable. However, she steeled her heart and gathered her resolve. The tribe''s survival relied on it.


    When she reached the tent door, she stretched out her tongue and tasted the air. Her adoptive sister, the Nokkoy, was not there. The Gadat who used to follow her everywhere was absent, too. She did not sense the Shuva friend, either. Viyal was truly alone with her mother inside their tent. An opportunity like this would never come again.


    She opened the tent flap and stuck her head inside. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the twilight. The foreign warrior clad in black steel was nowhere to be seen. On the bed near the fireplace lay the Omen Child with her mother. Yava walked toward them and quietly drew her blade. However, the faint sound it made startled Nayavi awake. She sat up from the bed in confusion and saw the Khevelir towering over her.


    "What are you doing here?!" she screamed when she saw the sword in her hand and shielded Viyal with her body. The young Mosyv woke up from her mother''s voice and blinked her sleepiness away.


    "You may punish me however you wish afterward. But I do this for the good of the tribe," Yava said and tried to pull Nayavi out of the way. However, the Mosyv''s tail stabbed at her, forcing the Khevelir warrior to dodge back. Even a female Mosyv who had already given birth still possessed this deadly weapon, a toxin that few on the steppe could survive.


    "Guards! Anyone?!" Nayavi cried for help, knowing she could not stand up against a warrior by herself. However, nobody answered her call as the entire camp outside seemed to erupt into an uproar. Yava heard yelling and knew that her men had gone ahead with their part. The whole tribe knew the truth now; nobody would be coming to save the Omen Child.


    She spun around herself and used her tail like a whip. It hit Nayavi in the side and tossed her across the tent into a collection of wooden chests, knocking her out. With this, Viyal was exposed to the naked blade. The young Mosyv stared up at the Khevelir warrior with fearful, blood-red eyes. She would cut this child''s life short to save the tribe.


    The tent flap was thrown open, and Yunil charged inside with her halberd. Yava dodged the thrust and swung her sword at the Nokkoy, but she blocked it with the shaft of her Gadat weapon. The steel blade bounced off the surprisingly hard wood rather than cut through it as she had expected. Yunil used the opening and kicked her taller opponent in the stomach, sending her staggering away from Viyal.


    "What are you doing?" the Nokkoy barked, placing herself between Viyal and the assassin.


    "You should have heard it. She is the Omen Child. If she lives, the tribe will be destroyed before long," Yava argued while gauging her distance to Yunil and the target.


    "Nonsense! She is my sister!" Yunil declared and prepared to swing her halberd. However, the tent flap was ripped aside, and several warriors of the tribe appeared in the entrance. They looked at Yava, then at Yunil, before aiming their weapons at the latter. "What are you doing? She is here to kill Viyal!"


    "And so am I. If she dies, my family will be safe," one of the Bavadi declared, wearing a desperate face. The other warriors nodded in grim agreement.


    "You believe in their lies?" Yunil looked between Yava and the warriors. She would already have been hard-pressed to hold off the Khevelir since she was one of the few fighters in the tribe she could not yet defeat in sparring. However, adding several more warriors was an impossible task.


    "They are not lies. They are the words of the Akhma Merkheleh," argued another man as he pushed his way inside the tent and pointed his spear at Viyal.


    With this, she understood the situation. The Akhma Merkheleh had revealed the truth to Gavro. In his grief, he must have come to the conclusion that she had slipped onto the path of demise in her grand prophecy and pulled down the Zakhira with her. But she could not find it in herself to deny that possibility. Perhaps it was her fault, after all.


    "Stand aside!" Rowen''s voice roared from the outside, and the warriors at the tent entrance scattered in a panic. The old knight appeared in the bright cutout, his eyes hidden under his crimson cape. His hand was on the hilt of his sword, Nightfall, but he had not drawn it yet.


    Viyal stared at him in fear. Had he come here for the same reason Yava had? He swore to protect the tribe, so ridding it of the cause for its imminent destruction would be in service of that, even if he had to slay the daughter of the chief.


    "What are you all doing, giving in to fear and doubt?!" he boomed, raising his voice in anger for the first time since Viyal met him. "Have you no honor? No sense of duty?"


    "This is my sense of duty," Yava declared with a glare and lunged toward Viyal. Yunil thrust her halberd forward, but she struck it aside with her sword. In the same motion, she stepped in with her whole body and brought the blade down at her target.


    But Rowen slipped between them and cut through the Gadat sword with his own, sending the blade flying up through the tent ceiling. Yava stepped back and looked at her useless weapon in shock. The old knight stood in front of the young Mosyv and Nokkoy and drew an arc with Nightfall. "I will cut down anybody trying to harm the young lady."


    "Even me?" came a familiar voice from outside the tent. Gavro stepped through the entrance with his spear, wearing a sad expression. He looked past Rowen and Yunil, and his eyes met with Viyal''s. She was shocked to find no anger, no hatred; there was only anguish and compassion. He truly believed that her death would solve everything, and he was filled with sorrow about what he felt he had to do.


    "Do not make me weigh my oaths against each other, my lord," Rowen declared, his sword arm not wavering in the slightest. "I will stand for honor before duty."


    "Your honor compels you to choose death for the tribe," Gavro rebutted with a frown.


    "That may be what you believe. I shall believe otherwise," said Rowen calmly.


    "How unfortunate, old friend." With these words, Gavro leveled his spear at the old knight. A murmur ran through the crowd outside the tent; they would see the champions of the tribe fight against each other.


    "Brother!" Amiro roared from surprisingly close by. A moment later, he crashed through the gathered warriors and tossed them aside. Gavro spun around in surprise as the chief leaped onto him and pulled him down. The two Mosyv rolled across the ground, biting and scratching at each other like two beasts.


    As if seeing that was a signal, the warriors outside pushed through the tent opening to finish what they came here for. Rowen prepared to face them all, but he and Yunil would not be able to hold them all back. They swung their weapons in wide arcs to deter the assailants, but they spread out in the tent to surround the two defenders and their charge from all sides.


    Suddenly, the tent behind Viyal was cut open, and Tashi leaped inside as a spinning ball of blades. The warriors near him were nicked by the whirlwind of curved swords and staggered back. Yunil reacted immediately by lifting her sister off the bed and carrying her outside through the hole Tashi had made. Three Shinoona were already waiting outside; the monkey boy had thought of everything.


    "Mother is still there!" Viyal cried, pointing inside the tent.


    "They are after you alone! We have to run for it," Yunil said and pulled her toward the mounts. She recognized that her sister would no longer be able to stay in the tribe. But her mother would not be harmed once she was gone.


    "Where to?" she asked in despair. The Zakhira were her family. This tribe was her home. But now that her prophecy had been revealed, nowhere on the steppe would be safe.


    "Head west to the lands under Azakhal''s protection," Rowen said as he held back an onslaught of warriors trying to come through the hole after them. Others were already coming around the tent from both sides, so there was no time to lose.


    Yunil helped Viyal onto her Shinoon before sitting up on her own. The tribe''s warriors blocked their path with spears, but she swung her halberd in a wide arc that dispersed them. Tashi joined them a moment later and covered their rear. They heard warriors whistling for their mounts. Others shouted for their comrades to bring them bows and arrows. It felt like the entire tribe was out for Viyal''s blood now.


    As they rode between the tents, warriors with pikes appeared before them. Yunil''s halberd was long, but it would not be able to reach them before they hit her mount. If they lost their Shinoona here, it would spell their doom. Thus, the young Nokkoy climbed on top of her saddle, ready to jump onto the enemies. She would sacrifice herself so that her sister could escape.


    One of the warriors was hit in the shoulder with an arrow, causing him to drop his lance. Another received one to the leg right after, and he lost his balance. It created the perfect opening for the three riders to break through the encirclement unharmed. Viyal looked around and found Soroca, the stern archery instructor of the tribe, between the tents. She lowered her bow and gave a meaningful nod before disappearing from view when they left the camp behind a moment later.


    However, they were not safe yet. Riders poured out of the camp and chased after them with bows and arrows. Steppe warriors were experts at mounted archery, so they would not miss even at full gallop. They aimed their shots at Viyal; only the Omen Child had to die today.


    Yunil fell back and joined Tashi in the rear guard to shield her sister from the arrows. She caught them with her bare hands or deflected them with her weapon like the Samagshin boy did. Seeing this, the Zakhira warriors drove their Shinoona onward faster to attack with their spears directly.


    Viyal was not an expert rider, so she slowed the others down. The warriors circled around Yunil and Tashi from both sides and surrounded them. When one got close enough to thrust his spear at Viyal, his Shinoon was struck in the hindquarters by a large arrow unlike any the Zakhira tribe used. It stumbled and fell, throwing off the rider. Another one right behind him was caught up in it and went down in a tangle of limbs.


    The shriek of a Hyarul caused all the Shinoona to shudder in fear. Viyal looked back and spotted Altuna coming down a hill on her mount, chasing after them while loosing another arrow. It hit another pursuer''s Shinoon in the hindquarter, felling it without killing it or the rider. She charged through their ranks and swung a long glaive to disperse them.


    With this, the young gang was reunited. Viyal looked back at the receding Zakhira camp with tears scattering in the wind. Her parents were still there. She did not know if her mother was still alive after being hit by Yava''s crushing tail. And her father appeared to be resolved to fight his brother to the death. Would she ever see them again?


    Whatever the case, her life as Viyal of the Zakhira had just ended.

 Chapter 26 - Fugitives

    Yunil, Tashi, and Altuna were perfectly observant and always seemed to know what to do, but the subject of their devotion only let herself get dragged along. Viyal felt like an outside observer, watching somebody else in her position. The tribe she had been born into treated her like an enemy now, and she did not know if her parents were still alive.


    Shizuru had always thought of herself as a chosen one. She had been raised that way in her previous life and treated the people around her accordingly. When she died and was given another chance, that only strengthened her impression of that fact. Surely, not everybody could be reincarnated with their memories intact and go into the next life with what essentially amounted to a cheat.


    She was even reborn as a member of the strongest species in these lands and the daughter of a powerful tribal chief. Then came her grand prophecy, promising a future that would go down in this world''s history for all time to come. This collection of traits could only mean that she had been chosen by a higher power.


    However, it had all crumbled and slipped through her fingers like sand. Her prophecy had turned around to become her ruin. Viyal was now at the lowest point one could be. Her own people wanted to see her dead, and once word of her destiny spread, the entire world would come after her.


    The only saving grace was that she had three loyal companions. If she had to escape alone, she was unsure how far she would have made it before giving up and turning herself in. After all, where was she supposed to run? The steppe was a dangerous place for those without a tribe, and they were still only children.


    Whenever they tried to rest, their pursuers would soon catch up to them. They could not make a fire without giving away their location, so they had to eat the meat Yunil hunted raw. Days passed without much of an opportunity to sleep, and their nerves were strained to the breaking point.


    When they reached a small river flowing from north to south, Tashi suggested taking a detour. The Zakhira tribe''s warriors knew they were heading for the sacred lands, so they could never find time to rest. And it was only natural to move in a straight line when one wanted to escape. In order to break that pattern, they rode their Shinoona on the rocky riverbank for the whole day before crossing to the other side. That evening, for the first time in many days, they did not spot any pursuers coming over the horizon and could finally afford to sleep.


    After twenty-two days of travel, they saw the snow-capped western mountains in the distance. A few days later, they entered the mountainous region and slowed down to proceed more carefully. Altuna constantly sent out Ravi to scout their path from the skies. It was more nerve-racking than the open plains since the winding mountain paths blocked their view, and every forest could hide a group of ambushers.


    They searched for a local home away from the larger roads to stay in for the first night. Although spring was around the corner, it was too cold to camp out in the mountains. An elderly Shangra couple took them in and welcomed them warmly with no questions asked. The hospitality of the people living in these peaceful lands was such that they accepted even criminals as long as they adhered to the laws of Azakhal.


    Viyal found herself wondering what they would think if they learned she was the Omen Child. A month had passed, and her stupor at losing everything had been replaced with gallows humor. She still could not muster any optimism about her future, but at least she was no longer teetering on the brink of giving up and lowering her head to the blade of destiny.


    After dinner on the first day, the four youths discussed how to proceed. Rowen sent them here, hoping the laws of Azakhal would keep them safe. Yunil argued that believers would not shed blood in their god''s sacred lands, but Altuna rebutted that some people believed in divine intervention less than others. Additionally, any number of the Zakhira warriors or people who learned of the Omen Child by now could decide that killing her was worth incurring their god''s wrath.


    In the end, they agreed to remain in hiding. But even now, nobody could offer any ideas about what to do in the long run. The three companions looked at Viyal for answers, but she was not in the right state of mind to make any plans. For now, they could only wait for things to blow over, knowing full well that a destiny as grand as the Omen Child''s would not be forgotten in a long time.


    They decided to stay put with their welcoming hosts since moving around in the open haphazardly could get them found. Several days passed peacefully, but they did not let themselves get lulled into a false sense of security. Altuna still diligently sent Ravi out to scout every few hours even though they had not seen any pursuers since they hid their trail in the river.


    However, the food they brought would not last long. Only Tashi could survive on a purely vegetarian diet like what their hosts and all the other people in these lands could offer. But Viyal felt reluctant to suggest hunting the relatively abundant wildlife in the surrounding forests, where the act of spilling blood was an affront to Azakhal. She knew firsthand that gods existed, so perhaps this one would actually rain lightning on their heads if they broke his laws.


    Finally, they decided to depart and find hunting grounds outside the protected lands. The elderly Shangra couple said they were welcome to return and stay with them again. Since their home was rather remote, and their children and grandchildren had already left to make their own ways in life, they were happy for any company. Seeing them genuinely sad about their departure caused a painful twinge in Viyal''s heart. This was now perhaps the closest thing to a home she could return to in this world. Still, it was not her own; she would only ever be a guest here. She would eventually have to find a new path in life.


    The lands under Azakhal''s protection had no visible borders or markers. It was a general region considered to be sacred. Therefore, it was impossible to tell how far they had to go before they were allowed to hunt and kill. To be on the safe side, they traveled east for two days and reached a forest at the edge of the steppe.


    Yunil and Altuna were both skilled at hunting in their own ways. The Nokkoy chased down prey on her bare feet, running like the wind even in difficult terrain. The rabbit-like animals had no chance and were snatched up in her vise-like claws. On the other hand, the Shuva used her superior sight and the composite longbow of her people. She shot a small deer in the head from over a hundred paces away, killing it instantly.


    Viyal practiced her bow skills, which had improved after they blossomed in her desperation during the Ishtemur''s betrayal. She remembered Soroca''s lessons but felt a somber mood overcoming her when she thought of her archery teacher. She saved them during their escape from the Zakhira camp, and her fate was unknown. Surely, those out to kill the Omen Child would punish her for her interference.


    Tashi watched over Viyal from a nearby tree, glad to be able to climb trees again after spending years on the wide-open plains of the steppe. Although it looked like he was having fun stretching his limbs, his senses were trained on their surroundings to ensure Viyal''s safety. Luckily, his caution was unnecessary.


    By the time the two hunters returned with their quarry, the sun had almost set. They camped in the forest and grilled the fresh meat, enjoying a warm carnivorous meal for the first time in recent memory. Viyal ate the unseasoned veal as if it were the greatest dish she had ever tasted.


    "What''s wrong?" Yunil was worried when she saw tears rolling down her sister''s face.


    "Nothing. Just remembering Mannogur''s seasoning," lied Viyal, quickly wiping her face and smiling wryly. In reality, she cried because she could not recall the taste of the Rausam cook''s food. It felt like a lifetime ago when she last ate one of his grilled skewers. Instead, the bland soup they had almost every day since the coalition war and the raw meat they were forced to eat during their escape seemed to have overwritten all the memories of better times.


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    The four youths fell into silence after that, each remembering their own time before the fall. They soon put out the fire and settled down for the night. Exhausted from the day''s activities, they fell asleep quickly, with Tashi taking the first watch.


    The next morning, the two hunters went for another trip into the woods while Viyal sat with Tashi. He suppressed the urge to smile when she wanted to discuss their plans from now on. It looked like her spirit had left her body after being hunted by her own tribe, but she seemed ready to move on again.


    "The steppe people will be divided between those who want me dead and those who want to capture me and use me for my prophecy," Viyal analyzed her situation with a level-headed approach. "I assume we will have the same kind of luck in the Omagala Empire."


    "They likely won''t believe in a prophecy of the steppe people, but the emperor would want to take control of anything that could be of use to him," Tashi responded with a meaningful shrug. If Viyal wanted to flee to the Omagala Empire and disappear somewhere in its massive lands, she definitely could achieve that. But he would not be able to accompany her. He did not want to reveal his past just yet and kept quiet about it for now.


    "We can''t stay in these lands forever. Just traveling out here to hunt for food is a risk," Viyal continued after taking Tashi''s words into consideration.


    "The only option is somewhere far away, where nobody knows about you or cares about such prophecies," the Samagshin looked up at the sky and said with a sigh.


    The question was where. None of them knew anything beyond the steppe or the Omagala Empire. They had heard of the White Dunes, but that was not a place they could survive in. Aside from their lack of adequate adaptations to the cold climate, it was the homeland of the Baagai and other giant beasts who did not shy away even from fighting adult male Mosyvvi.


    Viyal considered going to meet the Akhma Merkheleh for answers. However, her uncle surely already thought of that and posted guards near the Temple of Time. Truly, nowhere known to steppe people would be safe for her. Lacking any better ideas, they decided to camp out for another night and return to the Shangra hosts in the morning.


    The journey back was uneventful as they moved through a less-traversed region of these lands. When they returned to the elderly Shangra couple two days later, one of their sons had come to visit with his wife and newborn child. The moment he beheld Viyal, his eyes widened in recognition.


    "The Omen Child!" he exclaimed. Yunil, Tashi, and Altuna were instantly on high alert and drew their weapons, but the man quickly lowered his head and showed his open palms to signal he was harmless. "By the grace of Azakhal, I mean you no harm. I am but a humble herbalist."


    "How did you know who I am?" Viyal gestured for her companions to lower their weapons and asked cautiously.


    "I live by the pilgrims'' road. I have heard the rumors of the Omen Child, a snow-touched Mosyv girl with red eyes. Once, even a foreign warrior came to us and asked if we had seen you," the Shangra man explained.


    "A foreign warrior?" asked Viyal. Had her prophecy spread so far in such a short time that the Gadat or people from the northern tribes came looking for her?


    "He had an air of death about him. Clad in black armor, unlike any I had seen before. His face was hidden under a red hood, but he had a long gray beard," he responded with a visible shudder at the memory, and Viyal''s eyes widened.


    "When did you see him?" she demanded to know, causing him to shirk back. She realized that an excited Mosyv made for a scary appearance and calmed herself by taking a deep breath. "He is an important friend."


    "Just two days ago. He told me that he was staying in the hovel that used to belong to the old woodcutter Shiragun for a few more days and to inform him if I got news of you," the herbalist explained while exchanging a confused glance with his wife. It was a strange world indeed that she considered such a sinister man her friend.


    "Then we have to go meet him right away!" Yunil exclaimed, excited at the first piece of good news in a long time.


    "What if this is a trap?" Altuna wondered with a suspicious glare.


    "I would never dare lie to a Mosyv!" The Shangra man almost seemed indignant at the suggestion. Mosyvvi were considered holy in the local people''s sect of Azakhal''s faith. To sell one out would be to trample on their beliefs.


    Still, it was only natural to be suspicious of such a perfect coincidence. Yet, Viyal could not help but feel hopeful. Only one who met Rowen in person could describe him the way this herbalist had. She decided to put her faith in Azakhal and those who believed in him and asked the Shangra man to guide them to the old knight.


    The elderly couple offered a prayer for Viyal''s future. She felt truly grateful for their help and promised to find a way to repay them. Of course, they refused, saying that it was only natural to show hospitality to travelers. The herbalist then left his wife and child with his parents and led the way.


    His home by one of the pilgrims'' roads was half a day''s walk away. The old woodcutter''s hovel was a few more hours along the road and then down an overgrown path leading into a forest on the mountainside. They did not encounter anybody, and Ravi remained silent in the sky, showing there was no suspicious movement anywhere he could see.


    Finally, they reached a rundown house in utter disrepair. It looked like it had been abandoned years ago, with moss covering the rotting wood. The leaning entrance led into foreboding darkness. Altuna exchanged a worried look with Viyal. She still felt apprehensive about coming here but followed her friend''s judgment. Whether that was a mistake would soon be revealed.


    "Sir traveler. I have brought the Omen Child," their Shangra guide announced into the hovel in an almost cheerful tone. That was not the voice of somebody with sinister intentions.


    They heard heavy footsteps and clattering metal coming from inside and prepared for the worst, but Rowen appeared in the doorway. The old knight looked like he always did, clad in black steel armor and wearing his crimson hood, leaving only his hooked nose and the bushy grey beard exposed. He saw Viyal atop her Shinoon and shook from joy before realizing his lack of decorum.


    "You are safe, young lady," he fell to his knee and lowered his head to her, sounding like he was moved to tears.


    "As safe as being hunted by the entire world can be," she responded with a self-deprecating smile. But then, she jumped off her mount and bridged the few steps separating her from the old knight. "I''m so glad that you''re all right, Rowen."


    She jumped into his arms and hugged him tightly, ignoring his scratchy beard. The old knight seemed unsure what to do for a moment and finally returned the embrace. Yunil, Tashi, and Altuna dismounted and gathered around them. The Shuva bowed her head to the Shangra herbalist, apologizing for being suspicious of him.


    "How did you get out of the camp?" Viyal finally separated from Rowen and wondered. Then she remembered a more pressing matter, although she felt apprehensive about asking. "Are... my parents alive?"


    "Let us go inside first, young lady. There may be prying eyes and ears out here," the old knight suggested with a glance around the woods. He stood by the door and let the youths enter before addressing the Shangra guide, "How may I ever repay you for bringing the young lady to me?"


    "I have a home and a loving wife who gifted me my first child not long ago. I need nothing more in life, sir traveler," the man bowed to him with a warm smile. "May Azakhal guide you to a brighter future."


    Rowen watched the Shangra depart with newfound warmth in his heart. He had met many people in his travels, and few were so forthcoming and righteous as the people of these lands.


    "Mamai!" Viyal cried out when she noticed the Diao sleeping in a pile of dry leaves in the corner of the room. She was startled awake upon hearing her name being called and looked around in a panic. When she saw her mistress, her small eyes grew watery, and she ran over to bow to her. Viyal grabbed her and pulled her in for a hug, surprising the little girl.


    "Your mother bade me to bring her along," Rowen joined them inside the hovel and said with a noticeable smile under his beard.


    "Mother is alive!" The news brought such overwhelming relief that Viyal went weak in the knees. "Then father won against uncle."


    "Unfortunately, he did not." Rowen lowered his head in remorse. He realized that he could be misunderstood and quickly continued, "Your father is alive. Your uncle imprisoned him after his defeat and became the new chief."


    Viyal stared at the old knight with mixed feelings. On the one hand, she was overjoyed that her parents were still alive; on the other, she understood that she could not return to save them.


    "But what about you? Why did uncle let you go?" she wondered. There was no way he could have escaped the camp and outrun Shinoona riders on his headless horse.


    "So that I can lead him to you," Rowen responded calmly. Yunil,  Tashi, and Altuna looked at him with alarmed expressions, thinking he might have chosen to side with Gavro, but he continued, "But worry not. We will be gone before the pursuers arrive."


    The very moment he finished his declaration, Yunil''s ears twitched, and she turned to Altuna. The Shuva nodded and said, "I heard it too."


    Ravi let out a warning shriek high above them; their pursuers were approaching.

 Chapter 27 - The Slayer

    "Where will we go from here?" Viyal asked from the back of her Shinoon. Mamai rode with her since she was the lightest among the four youths and could afford to share her mount. The little Diao held on for dear life with her eyes pressed shut. They followed Rowen out of the forest and traveled along a natural mountain trail far from the main road.


    "West, to my homeland," the old knight responded, full of confidence. The little that Viyal knew about him sounded like he came from another world. His armor was unlike any found in the neighboring lands, and he was a mystical being, able to live with his head separated from his body. There had been no signs of such magic anywhere on the steppe, and Tashi said the same about the empire.


    "How far do we have to travel?" Yunil inquired, exchanging a worried glance with Altuna. Ravi rode on her shoulder now since he would give away their location if he circled above.


    "We will be out of these mountains in a little under a month. Then, it will be two more months across a dry steppe before we reach the Wynne Inland Sea," Rowen explained almost happily, as if recalling the pleasant journey from his homeland to the steppe. "There is a port town whose name I cannot recall. A ship will take us across in twenty-one days. From there, it is only another month before we reach the border of the Cranog Kingdom. And right there, a day from the border, is my humble estate, Castle Moder."


    The children stared at the old knight with aghast expressions. It was a journey of nearly half a year, but he spoke of it as if it were a ride to a nearby vista. But they understood that there could perhaps be no safer place in the world for Viyal than in a castle under Rowen''s personal care. This kingdom was so far away from the steppe that nobody there even knew it existed.


    Viyal remained quiet at this revelation. She knew there was no conceivable way for her to return to her tribe now. All she could do was pray that her uncle had not lost his senses completely and would not kill her parents. In a way, one could consider this ordeal her coming of age, and she now left the nest. Under normal circumstances, it should not have arrived for another two years, and she would not have to worry about her parents'' lives, though.


    "I hear them. There are seven riders," Yunil suddenly exclaimed with a look behind them. The winding path blocked their view, but there was no way to lose them now. Their left side was an almost vertical wall, and the right led to a nearly sheer drop into a forest deep below. Barely two Shinoona could ride side by side, but the same would be true for their pursuers.


    "Should we make a stand?" Altuna wondered, peering back with her longbow at the ready.


    "No, if we stay here too long, more might come from the other side," Rowen said, pointing ahead. "This region is a network of pathways. They could surround us on this narrow cliff."


    With no other options, they continued to ride at full gallop, matching the speed of Rowen''s headless mount. Although it wore full plate barding, it showed no signs of slowing down even as the Shinoona''s breathing grew more labored from the exertion at this higher elevation. Perhaps this creature spewing black mist from its neck stump was raised through Rowen''s magic and would never tire.


    Their pursuers finally came into view behind them. Their lead rider shot an arrow as a test, but the strong winds and the distance caused it to veer off uselessly. Altuna turned around on her Hyarul and fired back with her longbow, taking the man clean off his Shinoon. He disappeared into the trampling legs of his followers, who did not slow down and only sped up. Before the Shuva princess could nock another arrow, a bend in the path blocked her view of their pursuers.


    "More above us!" Yunil raised her ears and looked up. They could not see anybody but trusted the young Nokkoy''s hearing. Their paths would likely cross ahead, and a direct confrontation was inevitable.


    It did not take long before the trail rose to meet another coming down from above. A green cloth strip weighed down by piled-up rocks fluttered in the wind at the intersection, a marker for pilgrims. They had returned to a larger road leading to one of the many temples in these lands. And when they continued on the path, they were greeted by a group of twelve warriors blocking the way.


    "We are breaking through!" Rowen drew Nightfall and raised it in an unmistakable gesture as he took point. The steppe warriors unleashed a volley of arrows, but they bounced off his and his mount''s armor uselessly. Only the strongest Gadat crossbows would be able to pierce the black steel.


    The old knight did not slow down and charged at the enemies, who raised their spears to deter his mount. However, it ignored the pointy objects in its path, unlike any other animal would have, and crushed right through them. The spear tips scraped along its armor before being caught in tiny nooks, and the shafts were shattered. Some of their wielders were knocked off their mounts from the recoil while Rowen cut down a man who thrust his weapon at him directly.


    Then, he rammed the Shinoon in his path with his much heavier headless horse. Its rider flew in an arc and disappeared over the cliff, screaming all the way down. Yunil and Tashi followed into the opening, slashing the other warriors left and right, breaking their line entirely. As Viyal rode through the breach, she recognized the people around her. Their families were still alive, so they did all this to protect them from her prophecy.


    They continued without pause, with Altuna firing an arrow at the frontmost Shinoona among the pursuers behind them. It bucked, throwing off the rider and blocking the path of those who followed. Still, it was only a matter of time before they caught up to them again and peppered them with arrows. They needed to find a way to stop them for good.


    "There is a rope bridge over a ravine about an eighthday away," Rowen announced without looking back. It was hard to say if they could keep running for an hour like this, but that seemed to be the only choice.


    Soon, the riders were on their tail once more. They entered a pine forest with little undergrowth, opening the path for pursuers to catch up and potentially surround them. Altuna shot down five more of them before running out of arrows. She switched to her glaive, but it would do her no good against the mounted archers as they slowly came into range for their shorter composite bows.


    Yunil and Tashi suddenly turned around and engaged the enemies before they could shoot them in the back. Viyal looked over her shoulder and cried out, "What are you doing?!"


    They already could no longer hear her and swung their weapons, blocking the arrows coming their way. Viyal motioned to turn her Shinoon around, but Rowen called out to her, "Do not stop! Believe in them!"


    She pressed her eyes shut and drove her mount onward. Yes, her companions would not die here. They would defeat their pursuers and catch up to them quickly. She offered a silent prayer to the god who reincarnated her, or perhaps to Azakhal or any other god of this world, to see them again unharmed.


    A new group of eight riders suddenly cut through the forest from the right side. Altuna directed her Hyarul into their path and swung her glaive in an arc to deter their advance. Even Ravi joined the battle and attacked one of the riders with his claws. Three of them rounded her and aimed for Viyal with their bows. Rowen put himself between them and blocked the projectiles with his armor.


    However, one made it past him and struck Viyal''s mount in the neck. It stumbled from the pain and fell, throwing her and Mamai off. They landed in the relatively soft pine straw a few paces away. Viyal looked around and found that her Shinoon''s front leg was broken from the fall. Rowen cut down one of the attackers, and another faced him with his spear, but the third circled around his back and came for her with a spear.


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    Mamai suddenly leaped several times her body''s height off the ground, catching the warrior by surprise. The little Diao latched onto his face and mauled him with such ferocity that Viyal stared in utter bewilderment. She remembered Tashi telling her about the Diao and their frenzied fighting style. This enemy experienced it firsthand as he fell off his Shinoon and trashed about trying to get her off him.


    Rowen cut down the other assailant and approached Viyal, who watched Mamai in a stupor. A moment later, she stood up from the unmoving man with blood dripping off her face and claws. Her eyes darted around, looking for her next target, and she found Altuna and Ravi struggling with their opponents. She ran off before Viyal could stop her.


    "Go help them!" she shouted at Rowen when he looked between them and the young Mosyv. However, he picked her up by the collar and placed her on the saddle in front of him.


    "More are coming. We cannot face them here," he explained with a nod to their left as he drove his horse onward. More riders approached from between the trees. Gavro must have marched the entire tribe into these lands and sent all those believing her to bring ruin to the tribe after her.


    They shot arrows at Rowen, but his armor protected him and his horse. Viyal was safe between his arms, ducking her head and pressing her eyes shut to block out the noises of steel hitting steel ringing incessantly around her. However, it soon stopped; they had run out of arrows in hopes of getting lucky and hitting Viyal. Yet, the pursuers would quickly catch up to them, and then, even the mighty old knight would not be able to hold them off from killing her with their spears.


    "Oh no!" he suddenly exclaimed, and Viyal looked up. They had reached the ravine he spoke of, but the rope bridge had been replaced with a solid wooden one. They would not be able to cross it and cut it down to lose their pursuers now. He stopped his horse at the edge and dismounted.


    "What are you doing?" Viyal asked, looking between Rowen and the approaching enemies. He did not respond and drew Nightfall. With a few well-placed cuts, his headless horse''s plate barding fell off, revealing a pitch-black mare underneath.


    "I recall the name of that port town now. Melua," he said, stroking his beard with a hearty laugh. "They say it is the pearl of the Wynne Inland Sea where lost travelers will meet again."


    "You want me to continue alone?" Viyal cried out, but the old knight maintained his sunny disposition.


    "Your young friends will find you before then, young lady. I am sure of that," he said with a smile underneath his gray beard. With this, he whispered to his steed, "Run. Run like the wind."


    It let out a ghostly whinny that traveled on the wind before running off. Viyal looked back, stunned into silence. Rowen turned to face the approaching riders with Nightfall in his hand. He let out a challenging call and spread his arms as if signaling that he would stop their Shinoona with his very body.


    As Viyal disappeared into the forest on the other side of the bridge, the old knight welcomed the enemies with a grin. He grabbed the tassel on his crimson hood and lifted his head off his shoulders. The sight alone caused the Shinoona to come to a skidding halt in terror. They stepped in place nervously, unwilling to approach the headless man.


    "Come, brave people of the steppe. All who wish to die a warrior''s death! This is your lucky day!" Rowen raised his severed head up high and taunted them.


    The half dozen warriors of the Zakhira exchanged nervous looks. They knew this old foreigner''s martial prowess. He was Chief Amiro''s champion, capable of fighting a mighty Mosyv in a show duel without sustaining a single strike, all while wearing heavy armor. How could they hope to defeat him when they did not measure up to even an average Mosyv?


    "Are you not trying to go after the young lady? Look, if you do not come, I will cut down your only path!" Rowen continued to taunt them and hacked Nightfall into the wooden railing demonstratively. That caused the warriors to move. They dismounted from their frightened Shinoona and approached together with their spears. Even if he was an unparalleled warrior, they outnumbered him and had the reach advantage.


    Rowen watched the six men slowly inch toward him from underneath his crimson hood. When they came into range to lunge forward and thrust their spears, he suddenly raised his head by the hood and let out a blood-curdling wail that echoed like a choir of souls suffering unspeakable agony. The Zakhira warriors screamed in terror and tripped over each other to get away. The old knight rushed forward and covered Nightfall with the black smoke emanating from his severed neck. Arcs of darkness flashed across the men as he moved past them with blinding speed, cutting them apart as if they were linen under a tailor''s knife.


    Six bodies dropped to the floor, and dark mist rose from their cuts. It gathered together and swirled around Rowen''s obscured neck before being absorbed into it. The old knight let out a sigh from his severed head. Slaying the wicked, the traitors, and the murderers, such was his task. However, he understood that these men did not come after a helpless child to enrich themselves. These were once honest men, driven onto the unrighteous path through fear and despair.


    "Monster!" a voice shouted at him from the tree line. Rowen looked into the twilight under the forest canopy and saw over twenty more warriors. They unleashed a hail of arrows, but the old knight turned around to protect his head and blocked them all with his armor.


    Then, he felt something stab him between his shoulder blades. Something had penetrated his armor, and when he lifted his head to look, he found a steel bolt embedded in his back. A young Kandai wielding a handheld ballista walked forward from among the pursuers, lumbering forward on foot. The tips of his antlers, which missed the usual decorative strips and trinkets of his people, were sharpened. He was Mengesun, one of the stragglers who joined the tribe after the coalition war.


    Mengesun stepped onto the hoop at the end of the ballista and turned a crank to wind up the torsion mechanism. It was not a weapon the steppe people built but one imported from Rowen''s homeland. The ballista was usually placed on a stand and required two people to operate, but the towering Kandai had the physical strength to do it alone and shoot while holding it in his hands.


    "Come and fight me, man to man!" Rowen shouted at Mengesun, but the young Kandai ignored him and continued to turn the heavy crank. "Coward!"


    The other warriors stayed in their positions and waited for Mengesun to prepare the next shot. They knew Rowen could not move away from the bridge to attack the Kandai sniper since they would then pass him and continue chasing after their real target. None of them wanted to throw their lives away against the old knight.


    Seeing this, Rowen turned around and covered Nightfall with the black smoke from his severed neck again. He struck the wooden bridge behind him and cut through the railing in one slash. Right as he pulled his weapon free, the second ballista bolt penetrated his armor, digging deep into his flank. He staggered back and braced himself on his sword.


    "You shall not cross this bridge!" he roared, raising Nightfall and hacking through the other railing. The Zakhira warriors looked between him and Mengesun, who seemed to be almost casually winding up his next shot. The young Kandai instinctively understood all things engineering; he had modified this foreign weapon himself without ever having learned how to do it. The bridge would not fall even if the old knight cut through the foothold. The tension of the wood and the struts below would keep it in place.


    Rowen was a revenant, one who was returned from the dead to seek vengeance. He had fulfilled his creator''s task long ago and continued to exist beyond his demise. Perhaps now was the time he would finally find eternal slumber. However, there was one last thing he had to do to be able to rest. A child had been given unto his care, and he had to make sure she was safe.


    The old knight placed his head back on his shoulders and took up Nightfall with both his hands. With a monumental swing, he cut through the bridge under his feet before the third shot penetrated his chest and struck his unbeating heart. For the first time in his unlife did he feel pain. His end had come.


    Rowen fell onto one knee but propped himself up with Nightfall. He looked up at Mengesun, who maintained his distance and reloaded the ballista, and the Zakhira warriors, who decided to approach him carefully. But they shied back when the old knight stood up once more and pulled back his hood to reveal hollow eyes burning with purple necromantic energy. It was a sight he could never show his loved ones, but that would drive terror into his foes. "This is as far as you go!"


    With this declaration, his body exploded into a storm of darkness that shot out from his black armor and ripped apart the weakened wooden bridge. Mengesun and the steppe warriors watched the now empty armor fall into the ravine alongside the debris. The last hints of black mist disappeared from it before it fell into the rapids deep below.


    Rowen''s headless horse carried Viyal through the forest faster than any Shinoona ran. Unburdened by its heavy armor, it could truly gallop like the wind, forcing her to hold on for dear life lest she was blown off. However, it suddenly slowed down and came to a halt. Viyal looked around but saw nothing that explained why it stopped in this place.


    Then, the black mist emanating from its severed neck disappeared, revealing the pale wound underneath. In the next moment, the horse collapsed, and Viyal was thrown off. She quickly scrambled up to her feet, just in time to see the undead creature''s flesh turn into dark smoke and waft away on an immaterial breeze. Within seconds, only a blank skeleton remained.


    Viyal collapsed to her knees, understanding what had happened. Tears rolled down her face as she stared at the horse''s remains. Now, she was well and truly alone in this world.

 Chapter 28 - Alone in the Wilderness

    It was all her fault. She was the reason everything went wrong. The Zakhira, once growing larger and joining the ranks of the Great Tribes, no thanks to her, was now diminished and splintered. If she had not meddled in the coalition''s strategy meeting, perhaps they would have won against Mong Rau, and everybody would be happy now.


    Viyal''s thoughts spiraled out of control as she sat beside the headless horse skeleton. There was no thought about what would happen if the pursuers caught up to her somehow. She was alone now, a child with no home to return to, tossed into a hostile world without rules. How could she survive on her own?


    A bird''s call startled her. The rustling of something nearby caused her to shiver in fear. When she realized that she could still feel this way, an ember flickered in her heart. Even after everything, she did not want to die. The sacrifices that allowed her to get this far would be wasted if she were to give up now. It was her duty to carry their lives on her shoulders and keep going.


    Akashi Shizuru would not surrender to fate. Not because she was a chosen one but because she owed it to those she came to care about. To hell with being destined for greatness. She would start anew and make her own way, not follow some prophecy. It was as the Akhma Merkheleh told her: A prophecy only held as much importance as one afforded it. And she had let hers get to her head.


    Viyal stood up and looked around. The forest was abuzz with wildlife, but there was no hint of Shinoona hooves echoing off the pillar-like trees. Rowen''s magical mount had carried her faster than anything she had ever seen before, but if the bridge still stood, it would only be a matter of time before her pursuer caught up.


    She walked a few steps on unsteady feet and leaned against a tree. This was the second time she had fallen off a mount''s back in the past few hours. Although she landed in the relatively soft pine straw, the impacts still affected her. However, this would not stop her from continuing. As long as she was alive, she would struggle to survive. Even if she had to crawl on all fours, this was not where her story would end. Gathering her resolve, she continued to walk once more.


    She could not tell where West was since the forest canopy obscured the sun. According to Rowen''s calculations, it would have been a month as the Shinoona traveled to leave the mountainous range and come upon a dry steppe. On foot, it would likely take much longer. But that thought no longer deterred her. She would make it to his homeland and build a new life for herself there.


    For now, she followed the dirt path. It was connected to the bridge she passed a while ago, so it was likely a pilgrims'' trail or a trade route. Surely, she would come upon a settlement or a homestead within a day or two. She had nothing on her to trade for supplies, but at least their inhabitants could point her the right way.


    A few hours passed, and she felt her stomach rumbling. A growing Mosyv ate a lot every day, but she had to starve during their escape from the Selemur hunters. She should have been half a head taller at her age, but her growth had been stunted from months of not being able to fill her belly as was necessary. It would now likely only get worse.


    She opened the small pouch in her waistcloth. It contained some fire-dried meat from their hunting trip. Taking count, she found it was only enough for two meals. The rest of their supplies had been distributed among Yunil, Tashi, and Altuna since she took on Mamai as a passenger. This would have to last her for however long it took to reach civilization.


    Viyal''s ears perked up when she heard a rustling noise nearby again. It sounded like a small mammal moving through the pine straw. The entire forest was filled with life, but it all seemed out of reach for her. She did not have her bow since it was in a holster on her saddle, which was buried under her fallen Shinoon. In their hasty escape, she could not pick up her spear either. All she had was her body. Now, she would find out how much of an apex predator a Mosyv was really.


    Hours passed with Viyal trying to find any of the sources that made the noises in the undergrowth. As if they taunted her, she never even saw the creatures scurrying around near her. Crow-like birds cawed down at her from the trees in mocking laughter. Instead of catching a meal, she only exerted herself and grew hungrier.


    She returned to the path dejectedly and continued her travel, consoling herself by eating what little supplies she had. If her hunting instincts did not awaken once she grew too hungry to think and she died from starvation because she could not do anything by herself, it would be a fitting end to her tale of hubris.


    Even now, there were no hints of any pursuers. Perhaps Rowen had stopped them all before succumbing to his wounds from the battle. She could only offer a prayer for his sacrifice and trudge on down the sloping path. Rowen said the port town of Melua was a place where lost travelers would meet again but that her friends would find her before then. She chose to believe his words; Yunil, Tashi, and Altuna were still alive.


    The same was true with her family in her uncle''s grasp. She would reunite with her friends, travel to the Cranog Kingdom, and grow stronger there. Strong enough to stand up to Gavro. And then she would return and free her mother and father. She would take over the tribe and lead it back to glory. Not as the Omen Child, not as the one chosen to conquer the world, but as Akashi Shizuru. As Viyal of the Zakhira.


    She caught herself grinning at the prospect, revealing her front row of sharp teeth. Thinking about future plans made her keenly aware that she had overcome her mental barriers. She would no longer waver in her drive. She could stumble; she could fall. But she would stand up every time and keep going.


    Now, she only needed to catch dinner and survive the wilderness.


    Two starving days later, Viyal came upon a sign of civilization at a road crossing. It was a literal sign, a milestone carved with words she could not read. She had left the forest the previous day and entered an open region with little vegetation. The trampled path disappeared into the rocky terrain at one point, and she was unsure if she had gone the right way. But she could now follow the direction of the sun and keep traveling west.


    The milestone seemed to stand in the middle of nowhere, but she finally recognized that the gravel under her feet was slightly different from the surrounding landscape. She had instinctively walked on the path and not lost her way. But now, she was at a fork in the road and unsure where to go.


    One way led up a mountain, the other down into the valley. As long as she continued to go west, it would all work out somehow, but her hunger became unbearable. Humans could survive without food for several weeks, but she was not sure if the same applied to Mosyvvi. And unlike the lively forest, this rocky region ahead seemed lacking in animal life.


    A bird shrieked high in the sky above her, and she craned her neck to find it. Her heart beat out of her chest, hoping that it was Ravi, but she could not tell from this distance. It flew past her and disappeared behind a mountain. If that was Altuna''s companion, he would inform her of Viyal''s whereabouts. But if it was a local predator, then there was hope yet. After all, it needed local prey to survive.


    Of course, the issue remained that she had yet to catch her own food once in this or her previous life. With that in mind, she decided to descend into the valley. There were small gatherings of trees one could hardly call forests at the bottom, so perhaps there was some wildlife. Furthermore, she hoped to find fish in the river, but at the very least, she would be able to fill up her waterskin. She had been lucky to discover a tiny spring along the way and restock, but the landscape ahead of her looked less forgiving.


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    The path disappeared near the bottom of the valley and seamlessly connected to the wider riverbed. The water was shallow, and silvery bodies darted around in it. Viyal pulled up her pant legs and dipped a foot into the water before stumbling back. It was freezing meltwater from the nearby snowcapped peaks. Summer was around the corner, but so high up in the mountains, the rivers would not get much warmer than this.


    Gathering her resolve, she stepped in and shivered from toe to head. The fish approached her slowly instead of escaping, curious about this new creature entering their realm. Viyal understood the light refractive index of water and calculated her angle of attack. She had no spear or other tools, so she had to roll up her sleeves and use her clawed hands.


    When a fish was close enough, she thrust her hands into the water below where she saw it. But it slipped right through her grasp and darted away just far enough for her to be unable to reach it. She pulled her freezing-cold hands back out of the water and rubbed them together. Rather than catch a fish, she would die from hypothermia at this rate.


    Viyal resolved herself to try again and waded a little deeper into the water. It reached up to her knees, and it felt like her legs would freeze off. But she concentrated on her target and thrust both her hands at it. Again, the fish escaped her grasp and swam out of range to turn around and look at her, almost mockingly.


    And Viyal leaped right at it, splashing into the water. She felt her claws digging into something soft even as she could not tell up from down in the painfully freezing stream. She held on for dear life and took a moment to regain her bearings. When she stood up, shivering from the cold, she held a struggling fish with both her hands. She had made it!


    A low and rumbling growl from behind made her spin around on the spot. A quadrupedal creature resembling a bear but with an elongated muzzle sporting a crocodile-like jaw stood on the shore. It walked right over where she left her few belongings and headed toward her, snarling intimidatingly. Its claws were as long as Viyal''s hands, and its arms were thicker than her torso. This creature could rip her head off in a single swipe.


    It was not an enemy she could fight. However, she had expended time and energy on this catch and was thoroughly drenched. She would have to swim through the river to escape. The likelihood of her surviving the cold in her starving state was about as low as if she stood her ground. But most of all, she did not want to run away again.


    "You''re not getting this!" Viyal shouted, baring her three rows of sharp teeth. The crocodile bear seemed stunned by her fearlessness but then roared in response. It stood up on its hind legs and reached the height of a grown male Mosyv. That was a threat display, telling her to run now, but Viyal did not shy back. She stuffed the fish into her mouth and swallowed it whole. She could swear the creature blinked in confusion before lowering itself back onto all fours.


    Then it charged. She would obviously make for a more satisfying meal than the fish, but they both now came in a package deal. However, it suddenly stopped when it noticed the scorpion tail rise behind her back. The crocodile bear had never seen a Mosyv before, so it did not know about their sting. All it could see was a flimsy creature with a thick white tail that stood up as a threat. How dangerous could it be? Its instincts as the apex predator of the region told it that it would win with a single strike.


    It stood up again and lunged forward to swipe at Viyal. She dodged backward, and the attack missed. But instead of taking her distance, she jumped forward and opened her jaw to its maximum size to bite the extended arm. In the same motion, she instinctively thrust her stinger at the creature, stabbing it in the shoulder. The venom delivery was blindingly quick, causing it to roar in pain from the combination attack. Her razor-sharp teeth dug through its stiff fur and thick skin as if it were paper, as did the stinger.


    The crocodile bear raised its arm, lifting Viyal off her feet as she continued to hold on, and swung her around. Her teeth tore off a sizable chunk of meat from the arm, and she flew in an arc onto dry land. The impact on the rocks was painful, and she rolled over herself twice before jumping back up onto her feet. With great effort, she swallowed the fur-covered meat in her mouth before showing off an almost crazed expression as she grinned with bloody teeth. She knew now that she stood a chance. This was not where she would die.


    The crocodile bear was stunned in fear and confusion. In its black eyes, this small, mostly hairless creature with almost blindingly bright white skin now appeared far larger than before. It considered if it was worth it to attack again and risk it all for this meal. Then, a sharp pain started to spread from the sting in its shoulder. Within the blink of an eye, its arm became unusable, and it struggled to stay upright.


    Viyal realized that her venom was incredibly potent. If it was anything like a scorpion''s, the sheer amount of toxins a stinger of her size could inject would be able to kill this bear in a few more seconds. She could have fought by her friends'' side all along!


    She stepped forward, ignoring her aching body, and grinned madly at the creature. It was a mixture of elation from the adrenaline pumping through her system and self-loathing at her lack of self-awareness until now. She had lived being protected and moving within the rails of her own mind. Only after losing everything could she break out of that mindset and become who she was meant to be.


    The beast tried to turn around and run away but fell onto its backside and fumbled around with its weakened arms. It did not understand what was happening since no animals in these lands were venomous. Terror overcame it, and it tried to roar to scare away Viyal. But she walked toward it fearlessly as only a whimper emerged from its throat, seizing up from the venom.


    As it succumbed to the toxins coursing through its body with every beat of its weakening heart, Viyal laughed with insane joy. But when it breathed its last and stopped moving, her laughter turned into relieved sobbing. She was freezing, and her body was covered in cuts and bruises. Her throat felt disgusting from the raw fish and hair-covered meat she swallowed. She just took a life over a fish.


    Viyal had never felt so alive before.


    Starting a fire was no easy task with shaky hands. But when it finally burned, the naked Viyal crumbled into a shivering pile beside it. She had taken off her wet clothes and placed them on a large rock next to her while making the fire, underestimating how long it would take her. It would be a miracle if she did not get sick.


    When her body warmed up, she looked at the crocodile bear carcass. Since she had no tools for dressing it, she looked around and picked out a suitable rock. She knapped it and made several makeshift stone knives of different sizes.


    As she cut the creature open along the stomach, her mind wandered to who taught her all of this. Since her father was much busier with his work as the chief and later vice-leader of the coalition, her uncle had been her teacher. Every child of the steppe learned these basic techniques no matter how large their tribe became, and she was grateful for it now.


    She absentmindedly took the crocodile bear apart and reminisced about the better times when her uncle did not want her dead. Gavro had been such a positive influence in her life, so it hurt even more that he had turned around and become her greatest enemy. But that was all in the past now. Considering where she was headed, they would likely never meet again.


    Soon, the giant creature lay skinned before her. She considered the meat on one side and the pile of hide on the other. Since she was already cold traversing this region in her normal clothes, perhaps she could use this fur. Although she had not learned how to make it wearable, she had seen workers of the tribe prepare Shinoona hides. All she could do was copy what they did to the best of her abilities.


    Working her body made Viyal forget her circumstances. She even entertained the possibility of remaining in this region and living off the land, never to be seen again. Of course, it was a mere passing thought; her story would not end here, either. She would not be able to forgive herself if she took the easy way out.


    As she ate some of the grilled bear meat, she looked up at the reddening sky. Several birds circled high above, likely waiting for her to depart and leave behind some scraps for them. She hoped that Ravi was among them, but they did not let out any audible cries and were too far away for her to see anything but black outlines.


    Viyal decided to seek shelter in the grove near the river for the night and complete her work on the fur the next day. The pine straw would make for an acceptable bed, and the sound of the river was calming. With no more pressure from being chased, she would take her time before continuing.


    However, as she considered how to accommodate the fire in her temporary camp without burning it down, she heard the echoes of Shinoona hooves against the mountainsides. She felt hope rise in her heart for a moment before she realized there were more than two sets of hooves. A bellowed command carried on the wind: They had spotted her campfire.

 Chapter 29 - New Dawn

    Viyal quickly stomped out the fire and ran for the small grove. She hoped the pursuers could not see her under the moonless night sky, and the river''s noise masked her steps in the undergrowth. The trampling Shinoona hooves came down the slope and approached her position right as she cowered behind a brush.


    Fighting that crocodile bear had been insane, but a dozen mounted warriors with bows and spears was an entirely different matter. Even if most of them likely never fought a Mosyv seriously before, they knew not to underestimate one even as young as Viyal. They would keep her at a distance and not let her get a bite or sting in.


    "A Matagai. What sort of warrior did that?" one of the riders wondered, lowering his torch to look at the carcass next to the extinguished campfire. "That couldn''t have been the young lady, right? She is still a child."


    "Here is its pelt. Maybe a local hunter?" another pointed out the scrubbed pelt drying on the rock a short distance away.


    "I taste venom in the air," responded a familiar voice. It was Yava, the Khevelir warrior, who tried to assassinate Viyal while she rested with her mother in their tent. "Mosyv venom."


    Yava was with the Sakhatul tribe before their union with the Zakhira. She must have had plenty of opportunities to witness Zagaro or any of his kin use their stingers in battle. On the other hand, Viyal had been protected all her life, so she had not even been taught how to use her tail. If not for her instincts kicking in, that Matagai would have done the job for these pursuers.


    Viyal stayed completely still and observed the riders from the darkness of her hiding spot. They checked the embers of the fire and noted that they were still hot. Considering they had seen the light from it earlier, whoever put it out could not have gotten far. And the only likely hiding spot nearby was the grove a few dozen steps away.


    Half of Yava''s men dismounted and walked into the dark undergrowth with their torches. The Khevelir warrior remained outside to oversee the situation and ride Viyal down if she tried to run. At least, she would not be found by her sense of smell immediately. Perhaps there was a chance for her to get out of this situation yet.


    She remained still and waited for as long as possible while the men carefully searched the undergrowth. The grove was not too large for six men to comb through, and any movements would be picked up on immediately. It was only a matter of time before they stumbled upon her hiding spot.


    One of the warriors stabbed his spear into the bushes near Viyal to check for anybody hiding inside. She waited as the man headed toward her and pulled back his spear. Right as he thrust it in her direction, she jumped out and grabbed the shaft. In the same motion, she stung him in the exposed throat with pinpoint accuracy. She was truly grateful to have such an instinctive control over her natural weapon.


    The man dropped his torch and held his throat. He could not even let out a wheeze as the venom seized up his muscles and cut off his breathing. He tried to pull back his spear, but Viyal yanked it out of his weakened grasp. Before she could turn it around and stab his heart, he died on his feet and fell backward onto the torch, putting it out with his body.


    "What was that?!" another man searching in the vicinity heard his comrade collapse and spun around. To Viyal''s dismay, he was a Bavadi with superior night vision, spotting her standing out in the open with a spear in her hands. "The Omen Child is here! She is armed!"


    Viyal lunged at him and thrust the spear forward with reckless abandon. He noticed in time and dodged the attack by taking his distance. The weapon slipped out of her hand and flew into the darkness. The Bavadi warrior did not lose a moment to punish her failure and attacked. Viyal just barely avoided the first thrust and tried to counter with her stinger, but she could not reach him.


    The other pursuers waiting outside dismounted from their Shinoona and approached the grove. She had taken one of them down because of the element of surprise. However, in a direct confrontation, these adult warriors were far superior to her. There was no way for her to get out of this situation through her own strength.


    But Viyal would not give up. She let out a roar and lunged at the Bavadi in front of her with her teeth and claws trained on him. Her ferociousness shocked him; he had expected to find a weak and pampered girl, not a seemingly feral beast. With such a reckless attack, perhaps she had slain the Matagai herself after all.


    Still, he was a warrior. Even if he was stunned for a moment, his body reacted on its own. His spear was aimed at Viyal''s face, the frontmost target in his view. But she surprised him again when she caught the spearhead with her teeth. The powerful thrust cracked her sharp teeth and slipped off, splitting the corner of her mouth.


    Viyal was willing to sacrifice that much to get into range for her scorpion tail. The man raised his hand to defend his face, catching the stinger with his palm. The tip emerged on the other side, and only a little venom entered his hand. She drew back and tried again, but the man swung his spear in an arc to deter her.


    Even that little amount of venom would be fatal to a Bavadi, but it would take a while longer to reach his vital organs. He was not out of the fight yet, as desperation and anger caused him to charge at her with her spear. However, Yava''s voice suddenly spoke from surprisingly close by, "Stop."


    The warrior froze and looked at the Khevelir, who approached through the undergrowth. She drew her Gadat sword and cut off the man''s forearm in one swift motion. He screamed in pain and stumbled back. "Why did you do that?!"


    "I saved your life. Now, get yourself patched up," she responded coldly and pointed outside the grove. Then she turned to Viyal, only to realize she had disappeared into the dark. Her night vision was not nearly as good as a Bavadi''s, but she could taste the air and find her blood trail. "Save us some time, Viyal. Give up your life now and save your people."


    She did not respond and hid behind a tree. Dull pain started to spread from her split cheek, but she ignored it and looked around. The torches gave away the pursuers'' position, but if another Bavadi was among them, she would be spotted even in the dark. This game of hide and seek was over, and it became a fight for survival.


    Viyal headed for one of the warriors, who was closing the net around her. It was a Jagul woman holding a curved steel sword. Viyal''s eyes widened. Could it be one of Tashi''s weapons? Such curved blades were exceedingly rare among the steppe people, and usually, only Gadat officers carried them. It was hard to tell in the flickering torchlight, but she still bore hope that he was out there, alive and searching for her.


    "Surrender quietly, Lady Viyal," the Jagul woman said, readying her weapon.


    "Who would do that?!" Viyal flung a rock she picked up along the way at the Jagul, but she sidestepped it almost casually. However, she did not expect the young Mosyv to continue charging at her fearlessly and was blindsided by her reckless assault. As with the Bavadi warrior before, she expected a child, not a beast.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    But Viyal was not a mindless creature. She feigned a lunge for the Jagul warrior''s throat with her sharp teeth exposed. When the woman swung the curved sword in response, she dropped down to go for her leg. Unable to change the angle of her swing, she barely cut through some strands of the young Mosyv''s white hair. Then came the stinger, aiming for her chest. Faced with this two-pronged attack, the Jagul had to choose which to defend against. She used her torch to catch the stinger and felt a sharp pain in her thigh at the same time.


    Instead of holding on with her teeth, Viyal ripped off as large of a piece as she could get away with and stumbled past the Jagul. The wound in the woman''s leg hampered her, rendering her unable to give chase. And with this, she escaped into the darkness again.


    This could not continue forever. The wounded half of Viyal''s face was on fire, and she was tired from the exertion. There were only so many times she could surprise these warriors before they landed a fatal strike on her. She hid behind a tree and calmed her beating heart for as long as she could afford, listening to the sounds of the searching enemies.


    Then, she made a dash for it and tumbled out of the undergrowth onto the rocky riverbank. Her aim was one of the Shinoona the warriors left behind. However, she knew they would simply give chase and shoot her in the back with arrows if she tried to ride away. Her only option was to stand and fight, like her friends, like Rowen had done before. For that, she snatched a bow and a quiver from the Shinoon''s saddle and nocked an arrow. The first figure coming toward her in pursuit would get to feel her newfound accuracy.


    When Yava emerged from the grove, her dark brown scales barely illuminated by the scarce starlight, Viyal unleashed her shot. The Khevelir warrior spun around her sword and deflected the arrow almost casually. Several more warriors came out of the undergrowth and approached as one. Then, she heard the sound of more Shinoona hooves echo off the mountainsides coming from behind her.


    There she was, surrounded, six more arrows in the quiver, facing who knew how many enemies. And they would not be deterred even if only one of them remained. All was in the name of saving their people. Viyal had to admit now that perhaps this was the end. Of course, she would struggle until her heart stopped, but the way out seemed to have disappeared.


    She shot at one of the warriors beside Yava, hitting him in the chest. The padded vest stopped it from going deep enough to stop him, and he pulled it out with a grunt. Undeterred, Viyal shot another one at the closest enemy, but he ducked under it. Before she could nock her fourth arrow, Yava sprinted forward to end it once and for all.


    A howl echoed through the valley and caused the Khevelir warrior to freeze. She peered into the darkness past Viyal but could not make out anything. Then, a Shinoon''s silhouette came into view, aiming straight for her. It bridged the distance within the blink of an eye, and its rider roared with the fury of a vengeful spirit.


    Yunil emerged from the darkness with her teeth bared in anger and swung her Gadat halberd at Yava. She raised her sword to block the strike, but the force behind it bent the blade and sent her tumbling across the ground. A moment later, Tashi and Altuna appeared behind her and charged into the other warriors heading for Viyal. Riding with Tashi was Mamai, who jumped off the saddle and landed beside the young Mosyv as the other two sped past them.


    "Behind me, master!" the little Diao shouted, spreading her arms and baring her claws to cover for Viyal.


    Tashi was like a spinning top on his Shinoon''s back, hacking at the surprised enemies. They could block one, maybe two of his swings, but the third would always find its mark. Altuna''s glaive described a glittering arc under the starlight, beheading an enemy in one graceful swing. Her Hyarul turned around and caught a spear in its beak, ripping it out of the wielder''s hands before caving his face in with a single peck.


    "Are you alright, sister?" Yunil steered her Shinoon to cover for Viyal and inquired. When she got no immediate answer, she turned around and looked down at her sister with a worried look.


    "Yes, I am now," Viyal finally responded, tears in her eyes. Yunil sighed in relief, but her ear twitched, and she spun around in time to catch an arrow in her hand. Yava had discarded her useless steel sword and aimed her bow at the young Nokkoy.


    "You!" Yunil barked and turned her Shinoon to ride down the Khevelir.


    "Wait," Viyal stopped her, surprising Yunil and Yava both. She pointed at their surroundings, which had grown quiet in the blink of an eye. Tashi and Altuna had made quick work of the other warriors and now approached the last remaining enemy in their midst. "Let her go."


    "For trying to kill you, she should lose her head!" Yunil argued, but Viyal shook her head.


    "What good would that do?" she said with a sad look at Yava and the dead Zakhira warriors strewn across the riverbank. Then she cracked a wry grin at the realization. How much had been sacrificed in order to kill her? What state was the tribe in now? Was this not the classic situation in which someone tried to prevent a prophecy from coming true only for their actions to result in its fulfillment? She addressed Yava with a pitiful look, "Go back to the tribe. It needs you still."


    "What are you saying?" Yava lowered her bow, knowing she could not get an arrow past Yunil''s reflexes.


    "Return to my uncle and tell him that I will prove him wrong," Viyal declared. "I am no longer one of the tribe. If it is destroyed now, it will be by his hands."


    She would accept blame for the coalition''s failure and its long-lasting repercussions. However, what came after was Gavro''s fault for acting on his despair. He brought down Amiro, the rightful chief of the tribe, and sent so many warriors to their deaths in pursuit of the Omen Child. And in doing so, he strengthened her resolve to survive.


    "I will not die before seeing my thirteenth thawing season. I will find a new path in a faraway land," Viyal continued, glancing at her companions. Then, she glared at Yava with her crimson eyes. "And one day, I will return to fulfill my prophecy."


    Yava wanted to rebut that declaration, but she was stunned by the atmosphere surrounding Viyal. Even though she was still a child, wearing ragged clothes and covered in cuts and bruises, she looked more regal than anybody she had ever seen before. More so than Zagaro, Amiro, or Gavro, even more than the Snowblood, who had been an existence akin to a queen. At this moment, the Omen Child''s attitude truly lived up to the weight of her prophecy.


    "Are you sure about letting her go just like this?" Yunil asked with a skeptical look at Yava''s back as she departed alone on her Shinoon.


    "There are two ways this can play out. My uncle gives up after hearing what I said. Or he comes looking for me personally. Either way, we''ll be long gone by then," Viyal responded.


    "To Rowen''s homeland?" inquired Altuna with her head tilted.


    "Yes. He gave his life for my future," Viyal said with a distant look at the sky. Her companions stared at her with glum expressions. Finding her alone here had already told them that the old knight must have fallen. She then turned her gaze to the fallen warriors'' roaming Shinoona, drinking from the river and looking for edible sprouts in the grove''s undergrowth. Their riders had carried plenty of provisions for the journey. "We have everything we need to make it out of the mountains with this."


    With these words, Viyal walked over to the Matagai fur on the rock and picked it up. It was proof of her transformation, the first time when she stood her ground and fought for her future instead of running away. The fur was still wet and required more work, but she would not discard it here.


    "Did you kill that thing?" Tashi wondered with a look at the skinned carcass nearby. A creature of that size could have overcome even an adult Mosyv.


    "It was more luck than anything," Viyal answered with a wry smile, rolling up the fur and putting it on one of the Shinoona''s saddles. "Pick up anything you can carry and prepare for a long journey ahead."


    Yunil, Tashi, and Altuna stared at her while she tied the fur down. She had been in a deep emotional pit for a long time, but it seemed that her mind had cleared now. As Yava had earlier, they recognized the change in the young Mosyv. In their short time apart, she had grown up.


    Viyal helped Mamai onto her new mount and climbed up after her. She noticed the looks of her three companions and raised an eyebrow. "What are you waiting for? Let''s go!"


    Her command ran through their bodies like an electric shock. Even though it should have been unfounded, given their circumstances, they felt an overwhelming sense of optimism for the future rise in their hearts. The long night came to an end, and the first hints of a new dawn illuminated the sky over the mountains. This was where their story would begin.