Page 44 of Yasmin and the Yeti
“I have found the source of the poison in our waters,” he said, his voice a controlled growl that carried to every corner of the room. “Offworlders. They have established a hidden laboratory in the mountains.”
A murmur ran through the Elders, quickly silenced by Njkall’s raised hand.
“Where is this laboratory?” the clan leader asked.
Rhaal’s eyes flicked briefly to Broc before answering. “They have tunneled into the sacred Valley of Echoes.”
The chamber went utterly silent. Even the subtle sounds of breathing seemed to stop as the full implication of his words sank in.
“Impossible,” one of the older Elders finally whispered. “The valley is protected by our ancestors. No offworlder would dare?—”
“They have done more than dare,” he cut in, his control slipping for just a moment, revealing the rage beneath. “They have carved tunnels through our burial grounds. They have set up their machines and their chemicals where our dead rest. They are seeking the source of sothiti, experimenting with our plants and fish, and dumping their failures directly into the river.”
He turned to face Broc directly now, his next words aimed like a spear at his former brother’s heart.
“Their main tunnel passes directly beneath Ayla’s resting place.”
Broc’s face transformed. The permanent lines of sorrow that had marked him since Ayla’s death deepened into something harder, colder. His eyes, usually dulled by grief, sparked with a fury that matched Rhaal’s own. He rose slowly to his feet, his injured leg causing him to sway slightly before he caught his balance with his staff.
“You are certain of this?” Broc asked, his voice dangerously quiet.
“I saw it with my own eyes. They have maps. They know exactly what ground they violate. They simply do not care.”
Broc’s knuckles whitened around his staff. For a moment, he thought he might snap the wood in two.
“Then they must be removed,” Broc said, each word precise and final. “Immediately and completely.”
“Wait,” cautioned one of the older Elders, raising a gnarled hand. “These are offworlders with Imperial technology. We must consider?—”
“Consider what?” Broc interrupted, turning his fierce gaze on the Elder. “That they poison our waters? That they defile our sacred dead? That they threaten the source of sothiti itself?” His voice rose with each question. “What is there to consider except how quickly we can destroy them?”
Njkall’s deep voice cut through the tension. “Broc speaks with the heat of personal grief, but his conclusion is correct. This is not merely an encroachment on our territory. This is an attack on our very existence. Do you know who is behind the lab?”
He shook his head. “I saw a Kaisarian demanding progress. My initial assumption was that the Empire was behind it, but…”
“But there are many who seek that knowledge,” Njkall agreed. “How many personnel?”
“I counted twelve scientists, perhaps five security personnel. Their defenses are minimal—they rely on secrecy, not strength. They believe themselves undetected.”
“And their equipment?” asked another Elder, a female with practical, assessing eyes.
“Advanced, but focused on research, not defense. They have energy shields at the entrance, but once past those…” His lipspulled back, baring his fangs. “They are soft creatures in a hard place.”
Njkall nodded slowly, his expression grim. “Then we have an advantage in numbers and strength, if we can neutralize their technological edge.”
“We have something else,” he added, his voice dropping lower. “Righteous fury. They desecrate what is sacred to us. They poison what sustains us. They threaten what we love. No technology can match that.”
A murmur of agreement ran through the chamber. Even the cautious Elders were nodding now, their initial hesitation overcome by the enormity of the violation.
Broc stepped forward, moving with painful deliberation until he stood directly before Rhaal. For a long moment, they simply looked at each other, years of shared grief and mutual blame hanging between them like a physical barrier.
Then Broc did something that sent a shock through the entire chamber. He placed his hand on Rhaal’s shoulder, the gesture both a warrior’s acknowledgement and a brother’s touch.
“You found them,” he said simply. “You tracked the poison to its source when others failed. You saw what they did to…” His voice caught briefly. “To her resting place.”
He stood very still, afraid that any movement might shatter this fragile moment of connection.
“We will remove this stain together,” Broc continued, his voice strengthening. “Side by side, as we once fought. For Ayla. For your mate and unborn cub. For all our people.”
