Across the continent, wherever one goes, there are those who carry Damu's salmon oil and dried salmon.
On the trade roads of Ixtarn, along the paths that wind through the desert kingdom's dunes, across the grasslands of distant Kirvia in the east, before the great iron gates of the Dwarf Kingdom — everywhere, the hoofprints of the Nishi caravan's Mooloomook remain.
While the Dawi who stayed behind in Damu put down roots behind its walls, and the Muwa go on beating their wings beneath Damu's sky, the Nishi — called the Dawi of the road, the wandering Dawi — load their packs onto the backs of Mooloomook and cross narrow passes and mountain trails.
It's rare for them to return to Damu within a single season. Two seasons, several years, sometimes longer than that. By the time the Nishi come back — every last thing they carried sold off, the Mooloomook's backs now loaded with goods from the outside world — the seasons they've passed through are etched in layers upon their faces.
To those beyond the Latulle Cave Path, the word Dawi meant nothing but the Nishi.
To the peoples of the continent, most of whom had never once laid eyes on the Dawi who lived out their lives within the bounds of Tharn Forest and Belrant Forest, a Dawi was simply a wandering merchant driving a Mooloomook. A people who carried the scent of wind and road about them. When the peoples of the continent heard the name Dawi, it was the Nishi they pictured.
While the Dawi and Muwa of Damu made their land, their river, and their sky the center of their lives, the Nishi made no place their center at all. For them, Damu was only ever a point of departure. Their destination was wherever the jars brimming with salmon oil could be sold.
And the one who leads a caravan loaded with the Nishi's jars of oil bears a single name: Nisharin.
Descendants of the river lord, and the finest Mooloomook riders on the continent — that is the Nishi. Whoever leads them gives up their own name and takes up the name Nisharin in its place. No one asks what the name before it was. That is the Nishi's law.
The Nishi's Mooloomook are smaller and lower to the ground than the ordinary kind. Their build, too, is slight — set side by side with other Mooloomook, the difference stands out all the more clearly. More than a few people, seeing one for the first time, mistake it for a creature not yet fully grown. But the Nishi have long set out on the road riding nothing else.
There is a clear reason for this.
The beasts most caravans of the continent use tend to be large. A bigger back means more cargo, and out on the open plains, that translates directly into greater profit.
But on a narrow trail, it's a different story.
The mountain paths of the Pestronak range. The cliffside road leading into the Dwarf Kingdom. The narrow mountain pass toward Kirvia. On those roads, the size of the beast became the width of the road itself. A large beast can't squeeze between the rocks. It comes to a stop at the narrowest stretch. And the instant its foot slips, it goes tumbling down the slope, cargo and all.
Across generations, the Nishi bred their Mooloomook with care. They kept the ones that were narrow, low, and sure-footed, and sold off the larger, broader ones to other caravans. Dozens of generations later, the Nishi's Mooloomook had come to be born small from the very start.
Their shoulders were narrower than other Mooloomook's, their backs lower. Their legs were short but sturdy, their center of gravity held close to the ground, so the jars of oil strapped to their backs didn't sway. Even skimming past the edge of a cliff, their bodies barely swayed at all.
The shorter the legs, the shorter the stride. And the shorter the stride, the less each step's jolt travels upward — it scatters downward instead.
A Nishi rider seated on such a Mooloomook can level a javelin or draw a bow without their body swaying. A Mooloomook bred to carry cargo lost none of its use on the battlefield either.
—Undur Nabazarr, The Nishi
*****
Vargo stepped up beside Nisharin.
"The barricade will be finished shortly, Nisharin. It would be best to meet the orcs from behind it."
Nisharin had already turned his Mooloomook toward the collapsed wall.
"On this Mooloomook, you mean? Muhahaha!!"
The Mooloomook's legs swung wide. Its hooves began kicking at the ground.
Nisharin rose up on the Mooloomook's back and raised his spear high over his head.
"Doesn't seem like there's much point waiting around, Master Builder!"
The Mooloomook broke into a run. Its four hooves struck the ground in a crossing rhythm. The Nishi riders fell in behind him. Picking up speed little by little, they straightened in their saddles one after another, spreading out to widen the gaps between them. The Mooloomook ran side by side toward the breach. The sound of hooves striking rubble and gravel rang out across the open ground.
Orden shouted.
"Nisharin!! You mustn't get so close to the wall!!"
But the Mooloomook had already turned their backs on Orden, pulling away toward the breach. Orden stood rooted where he was, watching them go, unable to take even a single step after them.
"Nisharin!!"
He called out again, but no answer came. Only the sound of hooves on rubble and gravel faded further and further away, while Orden's belated cry rang out long across the empty ground.
*****
Dust was rising up from the breach.
Orcs came charging down the rubble slope. Chunks of broken stone scattered beneath their feet. They ran with shields, already bristling with arrows, angled up toward the top of the wall.
Behind them came the footfalls of more orcs and minotaurs.
An orc bellowed back over its shoulder.
"Grakh! Ugh mun! (Move!! Stop and you die!!)"
Arrows flew in. One struck a shoulder plate and glanced off.
The inside of the breach came into the orc's view. The open ground behind the wall. Beyond it, the outline of a palisade. It wasn't finished yet, but Dawi and Muwa were plainly there, waiting.
Another arrow came flying in. This one found a gap in the armor. The arrowhead bit into flesh. The orc kept moving, dragging one leg behind it.
More orcs kept pouring in through the breach.
An orc raised its axe.
"Okka!! Okka Ulla!!"
Shouts erupted from left and right.
"Ulla!! Okka Ulla!!"
The orcs came on, shields and axes thrust forward. Rubble kicked up sideways with every step over the ruins, and the orcs behind them, never slowing, pushed on into the breach after the ones in front.
Something large moved into view. It was closing in fast, from the side.
A spear blade cut through the mist and drove straight through an orc's throat.
"Hah! A big rat, is what you are!"
The Mooloomook tore past the collapsing orc without slowing. Nisharin swung his arm wide, flinging the blood from his spearhead.
The Mooloomook's hooves struck the ground in short, hard beats as it wheeled around.
More orcs pouring into the breach blocked the way ahead. Two of them raised their spears.
Nisharin leveled his spear low.
The Mooloomook twisted its body clear of the raised orc spear. As it shouldered past the orc's flank, the creature staggered, its balance gone. Nisharin's spearpoint drove in short and sharp at the orc beside it. Behind him, another Nishi rider wheeled about and swung his spear sideways, cracking it across the last orc's skull.
Headless, the orc took one last stumbling step and crumpled onto the wreckage.
Other Nishi riders struck the flank of the orc mass pouring into the breach. The instant the Mooloomook cut in at an angle and wrenched their bodies around, the orcs, shouldered by that massive bulk, were sent flying sideways. The orcs coming up behind them couldn't stop in time and tripped over the fallen. The line of orcs coming down the narrow slope buckled.
Watching from behind a stone wall some distance away, an elf slowly raised a bow.
Beyond the mist, the breach wavered faintly. The elf held the string drawn to its fullest, and held their breath.
Blurred shapes were coming down the rubble slope of the fallen wall. Among them, an orc without a helmet showed itself for just a moment.
The string loosed. The arrow flew straight and true across the distance, without a waver.
On the slope of the breach, an orc clutched at its throat and dropped.
The elf's arrow was buried deep in its throat.
Daoba set down the stone in his hand and looked over at the elf.
The elf was already nocking the next arrow.
Daoba turned his head back toward the collapsed wall.
Astride Mooloomook now walking at an unhurried pace, the Nishi riders wove between the fallen orcs. Spearpoints drove, one after another, into the throats and backs of orcs still breathing. Across the rubble, the orcs that had been thrashing went still, one by one.
One of the Nishi riders came down off the rubble slope and drew up beside Nisharin.
"Nisharin. Pushing out past the breach seems too risky."
"Hm?"
"Orcs keep massing on the far side of the moat. They're throwing more timber into it by the breach, widening the bridge."
Nisharin fell silent for a moment.
"More of them will be swarming in here soon."
Nisharin lifted his head and looked up. Arrows were flying from atop the wall. Muwa Winged soldiers flew over the breach, raining javelins down beyond the wall.
He judged that pushing beyond the wall would be too reckless. Under the arrows and javelins raining down from the wall, there was no room for a Mooloomook to maneuver in the narrow space between the breach and the moat.
"Hrmph... reckon there's more of 'em than I figured."
Nisharin wrenched the reins, and the Mooloomook swung its heavy body back around, turning toward the inside of the breach once more.
The Mooloomook slowed for a moment. Nisharin's gaze dropped downward.
There, at his feet — Droko was standing.
Droko wasn't looking at Nisharin. Held tight in both hands, angled toward the breach, was a long, two-handed blade. Even looking down at it from atop the Mooloomook's back, Nisharin could tell it ran longer than any ordinary two-hander.
"We..." Nisharin said, looking down.
Droko lifted his head.
"Where have I seen you before?" Nisharin said. "You look familiar, Droko. Was it in Ixtarn?"
Droko's eyes swept over Nisharin once. Then stopped, lingering.
"Dunno-dar."
Nisharin looked toward the breach. Beyond the rubble, the roar of orcs rose up again.
Below him, Nia stood gripping the sword with both hands, eyes fixed only on the breach. Every time an orc came into sight, those eyes tracked it, leaning forward little by little. Even the toes had turned toward the breach unawares. Nia watched the orcs with the look of someone ready to break into a run at the very next step.
"Get on behind me, Droko."
Nia braced a hand against the Mooloomook's flank and climbed up onto its back. The Mooloomook shifted its weight once. Nia's feet pressed into its sides, settling into place.
Another band of orcs was coming down the slope of the breach.
Orcs with shields raised came stepping down over the wreckage. The one at the front lowered its shield and drove it forward.
Two Nishi riders reined their Mooloomook up side by side, blocking the way.
One rider drove his spear in fast, over the top of a shield. The orc raised it higher to block. In that instant, the other rider's Mooloomook darted sideways and struck the next orc with a spear thrust. The orc, its footing thrown off on the slope, dropped to its knees. The orcs coming down behind trampled straight over the fallen one without breaking stride.
"Changed my mind! Might as well kill as many of these incoming orc bastards as we can before we pull back! Wahahaha!!"
Nisharin's Mooloomook charged.
Nisharin's spear swung toward the nearest orc.
And from behind Nisharin, the blade of Nia's sword — '180 Gold Coins' — flashed into view and cut across the orc.
The blade grazed the orc's flank. In the wake of that long blade, red flesh showed through, and the orc toppled sideways.
Through the gap it left, another Nishi rider closed in and drove his spear into a different orc.
Nisharin's Mooloomook cut hard to the side.
An orc came rushing down alongside a scatter of small stones tumbling over the rubble, axe thrust forward.
"Getting down-dar!"
Nia leapt off the Mooloomook, swinging '180 Gold Coins.'
The long blade swept sideways across the orc's axe. The haft split, and the orc's arm was wrenched back.
The Mooloomook ran on past the fallen orc.
"That sword." Nisharin said, pulling his arm back and wrenching the reins around. The Mooloomook's hooves found their new direction.
"That sword — looks pretty heavy."
"Not heavy."
"And isn't it too long, too?"
"It's fine."
"Then let's you and I buy some time here together, Droko!"
"It's Nia!"
Nia said, looking up at him.
"Heh-hah! Right... right. Guess I never gave you my name either. Nisharin!"
Nisharin said, with a short bark of laughter.
From a short distance away, Vargo's voice carried over.
"Moon side, third row of posts!! Stack more sacks of earth there!! There's a gap!!"
"Now?!"
"Yes! Now!! Hurry!! We've still got time."
Footsteps of workers hauling sacks of earth mixed with the pounding of hammers.
A carpenter ran up and drove a wedge in with his hammer. The timber locked tight into place. Another mason shoved a rope-bound block of stone into the gap.
A sack packed with small stones went on top of it. Inside the wall, the sound of the barricade rising and the thud of Mooloomook hooves mixed together across the open ground.
And beyond the breach —
Past the mist, an endless line of shapes kept advancing toward the wall.
Every time the mist stirred and parted, an orc's face would flash into view and vanish again. Their shields, plated with leather and iron, already bristled with arrows, but the orcs kept them raised, never lowering them, and pressed on.
Arrows poured down from atop the wall onto the orcs. The sound of arrows striking iron armor and shields never let up.
The invaders' shadows stretched on without end.
The mist settled low again, spreading to cover the ground beyond the breach. Spears, axes, and helmets emerged in row after row. The sound of orcs shoving past one another beyond the breach drifted in through the mist.
The low, heavy tramp of feet. The clatter of shield striking shield. The clank of armor. All of it came pouring in low, beneath the mist.
Nisharin scowled at the sound of the orcs carrying in from outside, and gave a short click of his tongue.
"Damn it... reckon they've brought a lot, huh.