A group of bandits learn that which can be stolen may also be difficult to keep. They soon find themselves the victims of an even greater menace.

Original story by:
 CS_Bernard

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Heilongjiang Province
Qing Dynasty
7 February, 1804, 23:03 Local Time

THE MARMOT’S FEET carried him as fast as he could run through the dilapidated corridors of the underground tunnel. He had seen the beast snatch up Batu with ease. He knew he was powerless to help and only sped away as his friend’s cries were instantly silenced. The creature had followed them for untold distances from the village. He quietly and quickly muttered prayers for aid as he dashed down the cramped tunnel.

Their camp was in the ruins of a former frontier outpost. Most of the above ground fortifications were gone save for the stone walls. Even though they had large holes in them, they still offered vantage points and bottle necks to defend from. From such an advantageous base of operations, even a small band of five riders could do as they pleased – and for several months they had. They gathered horses, trade goods, food, and gold. They lived like chieftains. They dreamed of building their reputation and soon unaffiliated nomads would come to them, merchants would purchase their wares, and women would marvel at their exploits.

The acquisition of the idol, however, was a step too far. It had been Batu who said they should leave it behind, but Arban would not hear of it. He prized the figurine as special. Tengri, the wolf god himself, would surely respect someone so daring as to take possession of it. Batu, instead, criticized him and argued that Tengri would withdraw his protection of them. Arban scoffed at this. He bitterly remembered his folly and cursed himself as he rounded a corner, torch in hand to light his way through the tunnels.

In the dark of winter and in his panic, Arban had confused himself. The tunnels were meant to offer safe travel between some of the buildings of the old fort as well as escape routes to the outside in the event of attack. However, to misdirect would-be infiltrators, they were built in a maze pattern. If he could just find a tunnel that led above ground, he could throw away the torch and use the moonlight to escape. Yet, in his panic, the simple maze was enough to confound him. He skidded to a stop, to calm down and think clearly.

Arban remembered that, when the creature arrived, a terrible gust of wind blew over the camp, through the biggest hole in the old fort’s stone wall. It all but blew out the campfire and startled the horses in their corral. When the monster came, it lunged through the great hole and shook the earth with its leaps and stomps. Batu shrieked the loudest and called it a demon, come to smite them for the idol. Hulagu was the bravest, he immediately grabbed up an empty iron cooking pot from near the fire and hurled it at the creature: only for it to swat it away like a pebble. The monster pounced on him first. Möngke rushed to help him with a log from the firewood stack. He rushed forward to use the firewood as a club. The creature simply reached out and clamped its huge hand around his arms and caused him to shriek in pain and terror. It then dashed back out of the enormous whole, the two male marmots tightly held to its chest. They shrieked and then fell silent.

As Arban hid in the tunnel, he caught his breath, but his heart still raced as he remembered that he, Batu, and Temür sped for the corral. They gave their friends up for dead already and resolved to escape. As they mounted bareback, they rushed for the gate-less entrance. As they raced for the exit, the creature appeared atop the archway of the old entrance and pounded it loose. Stone and rotted wood crashed down and caused part of the walls to cave in. The horses reared and Arban was thrown. He had inexplicably managed to grab a pack with the idol in it and was ready to escape with it. Temür attempted to lure the beast away as he charged it and insulted it. Yet before he could turn to race to another part of the fort, the beast effortlessly snatched him from his mount. Again, the creature leaped into the darkness and carried one of their friends with it. A scream and then silence.

Arban whimpered and sobbed as he wiped tears from his eyes. He hoped that the next tunnel was an exit. He soon saw moonlight and mouthed a prayer of thanksgiving as he threw the torch down and dashed for the exit. Halfway to the end, the tunnel collapsed in front of him and he screeched as moonlight flooded in and illuminated an enormous, questing hand that felt around. His scream attracted the other hand as it burst through the ceiling and easily snatched him in one go. He flew upwards, as he kicked and screamed.

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8 February, 1804, 00:01 Local Time

THE MARMOT’S SCREAMS were laughable to Shàonǚ as she fished him out. She showed her amusement when she smirked in his face before she added him to her prisoners. She tied them all up and gagged them so she did not have to listen to their meager insults and desperate pleas. She took his pouch and soon added it to her spoils.

Within the hour, she had tied all of the horses together in a caravan. She lashed her rivals to a horse each, and whatever could not be put on a pack animal, she herself, lashed together in one huge bundle and carried it in one hand over her shoulder. She then led the horse herd by the rope in her other hand.

It had been a splendid raid. Her little rivals had accumulated a handsome hoard for her to take back to her clan hosts. Though she was born a Manchu, Mongolian was her first language and she relished her sojourns north to partake in the common lives of the Mongol clans and strengthened her and the Dynasty’s ties with them. She serenaded the sky in celebration as she lumbered through the night.

End