The Ramshuk (Heirs of Legacy Book 3)

by Paul Lauritsen

  Five of the elders scowled at him, their clawed hands tapping restlessly on the arms of their seats. The sixth, the oldest of the elders by far, tilted his head thoughtfully, then beckoned Garnuk closer. Warily, the Exile complied.

  “The visions may not be clear,” the elder murmured. “But there is danger beyond Banuk walls. That much is certain. If you must go, beware the shadow surrounded by demons. It is wild and unpredictable, perhaps the most dangerous of all the shapes that I have seen.”

  Garnuk shrugged. “I already knew there was danger,” he replied, straightening and turning towards the door. “But if it makes you feel better, I’ll keep an eye out for demons.”

  He could almost feel the furious gazes of the elders burning into his back as he left.

  Outside the council chamber, the guards and his two warriors were waiting impatiently, staring around wordlessly and doing their best to ignore each other. Garnuk retrieved his weapons from Lun and buckled them on, turning to leave the fortress.

  “What was that all about?” Vars murmured as he fell in behind the Exile dutifully.

  “The elders wanted to share their superstitions,” Garnuk snarled in reply. “Seemed to think that I was some ‘great danger’ they’ve been having visions about.”

  “The Usurper is the only danger I know of,” Vars countered, grimacing. “He will lead our people to defeat if we do not succeed in thwarting him.”

  “Most likely,” Garnuk agreed. “Unless the Sthan are totally inept – and in my experience they usually aren’t – our kin are very much in danger of being wiped out.”

  The three warriors crossed Banta Kodu in silence after that, marching briskly through the wide streets, stopping for no one and making no eye contact with passersby. When they reached the outer wall, they were let through with only the barest pause while Sentinels checked to make sure that the forest beyond was clear of observers.

  Outside the great city of the Banuk, a curious sensation stole over Garnuk. He spent the first hour of the journey trying to identify it to no avail. Then, finally, it came to him.

  He felt vulnerable again. Hunted.

  In Banta Kodu, he had come to feel safe and secure, used to being able to sleep through the night without worry, knowing hundreds of Banuk tribe warriors stood between him and any foe. He’d even had his own loyal guards and the devious traps of the ancients. But now, out here in the forest, he was the Exile again. On the run, hunted, and vulnerable to attack. Even now the Black Hawk hunters could be watching him, preparing to move in for the kill.

  Lun and Vars seemed less concerned. They had been on the run more recently though, only having spent a few days in Banta Kodu. In fact, they probably felt safer, since they were accompanied by their general. Garnuk envied them their security and confidence, cursing as every sound or sight that seemed out of place sent a thrill of alarm through him.

  The three warriors marched all of that day and into the night, staying in the low, twisting valleys and canyons that ran between the mountains at their bases. There was better cover there, especially now that winter had laid snow in a thick blanket over everything. The world was still and silent, sound and movement muffled by the freezing conditions.

  Unfortunately, the fact there was snow on the ground meant that they were leaving tracks wherever they went. The moment Garnuk thought about this, he detailed Lun and Vars to wipe out the tracks with a canvas groundsheet they had brought with them. Garnuk also changed their course abruptly, since continuing in a straight line from where the tracks ended would do little to throw off pursuers. The extra effort of wiping out footprints slowed them considerably, but Garnuk was not willing to take the risk of their trail being found and followed.

  Accordingly, when they camped for the night, there was no fire and only cold rations. The three warriors took turns standing sentry duty, sitting on a hard rock to one side of the camp, shivering with the bone-deep cold of southern winter. When dawn came again, they were all glad to rise and move on, despite their stiff muscles. Movement meant warmth, and as they moved farther north there was a chance, albeit a slim one, that the weather would improve.

  Three days passed without event. Garnuk was cautiously pleased with their progress, for he guessed they had come more than half of the way to Dun Carryl now. The next day or the day after should bring them to the spy camp Danur had mentioned, and then the mission would begin in earnest.

  But they were forced to stop early on the fourth day, as a winter gale blew up out of the south, the winds howling through the canyons between mountains, driving snow, sleet, and ice before them in cold, sharp whirlwinds. Garnuk chafed at the delay, but he knew better than to try and brave such weather. Far better to wait in a snug cave, watching the blizzard outside. His two companions heartily agreed, and all three had their spirits and energy somewhat restored by the time the storm blew itself out.

  The fifth day passed painfully slowly. They were close to Dun Carryl now, and to the spy camp they sought. But their proximity to the Usurper’s stronghold meant there were enemies everywhere. Garnuk spotted three lookout camps during the morning alone, solitary observation points staffed by a few vertaga to keep an eye on the many approaches to the ancient mountain city. What they were watching for the Exile did not know. For Sthan raiding parties? Or for the members of Shadow Squadron?

  Morning turned to afternoon and still Garnuk led his little band onward. They picked their way through gorse and tumbled stone, staying hidden as much as possible. Garnuk took advantage of every narrow defile, every rocky overhang, and every densely wooded area he could find, even if it took them out of their path slightly. Finally, late in the afternoon, they came to a craggy spur on the shoulder of a larger mountain. Beyond this ridge, the land dropped away sharply, turning to gently rising plains that ran right up to Dun Carryl itself. The near side of the mountain was flanked by many other peaks though, a jumbled and confused tangle of cliffs and foothills. Garnuk hesitated for the barest moment, sparing Dun Carryl a glance, then began moving towards the craggy spur that stuck up from the shoulder of the mountain.

  Lun and Vars continued obliterating tracks as they moved, taking even greater care now that they were so close to their goal. Garnuk paid them no mind, focusing on keeping an eye out for ambushes as they approached the rendezvous point.

  At long last, the three vertaga came to a small clearing of sorts, blanketed with snow. On the far side of the space was a short cliff, maybe two meters high that extended to the left and right several meters. Beyond that cliff, the mountain rose sharply again before petering out in a jagged peak.

  “What now?” Lun asked in a whisper, straightening from his task and sighing with relief.

  “Danur said that our spies would make contact,” Garnuk replied in an undertone, looking around. Cautiously, he stepped further into the clearing.

  Almost immediately, the air was spilt by a vicious hiss. To Garnuk’s left, splinters and shards of ice flew from a frozen tree trunk, several chunks of snow from upper branches following a moment later. Garnuk turned quickly and saw a small throwing axe embedded in the wood.

  “Identify yourselves,” a muffled voice called.

  Garnuk raised both hands, palms outward, in a gesture of peace. “We mean you no harm,” he said quietly.

  “I will be the judge of that. Who sent you?”

  “Danur.”

  There was a long pause before the hidden vertag replied. “If you came from him, he would have given you a password to confirm your identity.”

  Garnuk snorted. “There is no password. Now, reveal yourself! Your general commands it.”

  There was a long pause, then a horned figure seemed to appear from nowhere on the cliff in front of Garnuk, looming over them, another throwing axe in his right hand, a heavy spear in his left. The vertag lowered both weapons as Garnuk stepped closer.

  “I recognize you now, general,” he said, saluting in the traditional manner. “Forgive me my wariness.”

  “I woul
d expect you to be careful,” Garnuk grunted. “Now, how do we get up there?”

  “You climb.”

  Garnuk shrugged and began hauling himself up the cliff. There were plenty of handholds, but the rock was slick with ice and the stone rough to even his calloused hands.

  When all three had gained the ledge, Garnuk glanced at the sentry. “Where is your companion?”

  The vertag nodded towards the other side of the jagged, narrow peak. “Around the other side, watching Dun Carryl. The butcher is there, and we expect him to move again any time now.”

  Chapter 15:

  Dangerous Game

  Garnuk’s horned head shot up at this news. “So soon?” he asked sharply, sucking in a quick breath.

  “Yes,” the spy replied, nodding decisively. “Your timing is nearly perfect, general.”

  “Not really,” Garnuk muttered. “I would have preferred an opportunity to scout the situation, examine the paths which he has traversed, observed him coming and going . . . but you say the butcher is already at Dun Carryl?”

  “He’s likely meeting with the Ramshuk or his underlings as we speak,” the spy agreed.

  “What are the odds that he departs and returns again in the near future?”

  The spy frowned down at the ground. “It seems to take him a week round trip,” he said at last with a shrug.

  Garnuk considered this, trying to devise a plan. He could wait, gather more information. But what if the butcher did not return and they lost him for good?

  There was another problem as well. Garnuk was not sure how long he could be away from Banta Kodu. The longer he stayed away, the more likely it was that something would come up. And if he waited on the butcher, it could add a week or more to the time he was gone . . .

  “We have to take this opportunity,” Garnuk decided reluctantly. “It is not ideal, but we will make do. Which of you saw the butcher arrive at Dun Carryl?”

  “Rukh,” the spy replied immediately. “He is on watch at the moment.”

  “Then let us join him,” Garnuk replied. “I have many questions that need answering.”

  “Only us two should go,” the spy said quickly, glancing at Lun and Vars. “The lookout ledge is small, with not much space and a high drop on the far side.”

  “Very well,” Garnuk said impatiently, “But let’s get moving before the butcher does.”

  The other vertag inclined his head, then led the way to the left-hand side of the rocky spur. He reached out and around with a clawed hand, as though feeling for something. Then, he stepped off of the ledge the camp was on, hanging only by his hands as he swung around the rock face. Garnuk growled to himself in surprise, then moved forward to follow the other ram’s example.

  “Reach around,” came the muffled voice of the other vertag. “I will help you.”

  Garnuk cautiously extended his left hand, feeling for any sort of handhold. Another hand gripped him by the wrist and guided him roughly to a stubby protuberance of rock. Garnuk seized this gratefully, peeking around the edge of the spur.

  Immediately, his stomach dropped and his head swam. The Exile realized he was leaning over a drop of at least a dozen meters directly below, and that farther out the drop grew even worst, falling scores of meters to the flatlands below.

  “This seems very dangerous,” Garnuk muttered. “You do this every day?”

  “Multiple times a day,” the other vertag grunted, trying to guide him to a foothold now.

  “How did you find this?”

  “Saw it from below,” the ram grunted irritably. “Didn’t know it would be this difficult originally.”

  “I told you Harg,” a third voice grumbled. “We should have found a different spot. Observing unseen is one thing, but scampering around on cliffs like a goat is another entirely.”

  “Goats couldn’t manage this,” Garnuk replied. His right foot slipped and he scrabbled to regain a secure footing.

  “Who’s that?” the third voice asked distractedly.

  “Our honored guest,” Harg replied with a grunt, seizing Garnuk’s left foot and dragging him around the spur. “Now swing out and around. There’s a ledge here.”

  “I’m just supposed to trust you on that?” Garnuk asked, glancing at the drop again.

  Strong hands gripped his arms. “You won’t fall, general,” Harg promised. “We have a good hold on you.”

  One of the hands holding Garnuk slipped at those words. “General?” Rukh demanded. “You mean to say that – ?”

  “Yes, you – ”

  “Well you could have warned me.”

  “They only just got here!”

  “If you are finished arguing,” Garnuk snarled, “Perhaps you could get busy dragging me onto your side of the rock? Then we can sort this out together.”

  “Right,” Harg agreed. “On the count of three, then, general. One, two, three!”

  Garnuk swung out and around the rock, his right hand dangling, his left arm secure in the grasp of Harg and Rukh. The two vertaga heaved mightily and Garnuk felt himself floating upwards and around. Then, he could see the ledge on the other side and the flatlands beyond.

  He also realized, a fraction of a second too late, that he was about to crash into his two assistants. All three of them went down in a tangle of arms and legs and sharp-edged blades, rolling perilously close to the edge of the narrow ledge before they managed to check their momentum. Then, ever so slowly and carefully, they began disentangling themselves until they all sat with their backs against the rocky spur, gasping for cold lungfuls of the crisp mountain air.

  “Well, general,” Rukh said finally. “It is good to see you again.”

  Garnuk chuckled to himself, in spite of the gravity of the situation, recalling the exhilarating sense of flying that he had just experienced. “Yes,” he agreed, looking around. “It is good to be out of the city. Tell me what you have observed of Dun Carryl and the butcher.”

  “Yes, general,” Rukh said, frowning down at the flatlands. “We first sighted Arasnak a while ago – ”

  “How long?”

  Rukh paused, thinking. “Perhaps two weeks, maybe a little less,” he decided, looking to Harg for confirmation.

  The other vertag nodded. “Yes, that sounds about right,” he agreed without taking his eyes off of the land below.

  Rukh turned back to Garnuk to continue his report. “Anyway, we sighted him two weeks ago, while we were out hunting for food. He passed not ten meters from us on the road, but never knew we were there. He was in a hurry, you see, running full out, gasping for breath. I would guess he had been on the move for hours at least.”

  “Ever since then, he seems to come and go every five to seven days,” Harg interjected. “He’s not staying at Dun Carryl long between trips. Just long enough to give a report, and sometimes to rest overnight.”

  “But no clue as to where he goes?” Garnuk asked, idly scratching at the stone ledge with one claw.

  “No,” Rukh replied, shrugging. “He always comes and goes by the same route though.”

  “He travels alone?”

  “Yes,” Rukh confirmed. “And at great speed.”

  “Which is likely why he travels alone,” Garnuk murmured. “Groups move slower than individuals, even if each is as strong and fast as the other.”

  “Though you won’t find many as strong and fast as the butcher,” Harg mused. “Or as determined and ferocious. We’ve all heard the stories about him – ”

  “They are not stories,” Garnuk countered. “They are all true. This is no soldier or warrior that we are dealing with. This is a raw, untamable beast. He is a weapon that you can use but not control, and a highly effective one at that.”

  “So are we planning to capture him or kill him?” Harg asked quickly. “Because we’ve scouted a dozen places where we could set up an ambush – ”

  “Or just drop big rocks on him,” Rukh countered. “If we don’t need him alive that is. Far safer than engaging him in combat.”
r />   “We are neither capturing nor killing the butcher,” Garnuk informed them. “We need to know what he is doing, and if we capture him I doubt he will be willing to divulge his mission. If we kill him, the mission dies with him. No, we have to follow him, track him back to his lair, wherever that is.”

  “Follow him?” Harg asked, stunned.

  “That would be the most dangerous path to follow,” Rukh muttered.

  Garnuk nodded. “I am well aware. But you need not worry. All you need to do is help us pick up his trail. After that you go back to routine spying on the stronghold. You will not be following Arasnak with us.”

  “We are not ones to back down from a challenge,” Rukh snarled. “Neither are we hornless cowards content to leave dangerous work to other rams.”

  “I know,” Garnuk said quickly. “But we need our spies in place and watching. If you were to accompany me and leave Dun Carryl unwatched, we might miss a major development.”

  “Like what?” Rukh challenged, thrusting his jaw forward belligerently.

  “Like an army?” Harg suggested. “The full strength of Dun Carryl marching on the Sthan?”

  “Possibly,” Garnuk agreed, shrugging. “And such an event would be disastrous to miss.”

  “Yes,” Rukh agreed absently. “It would. Very well, general, we stay. But we will help you find your quarry when he decides to come out from Dun Carryl.”

  Garnuk nodded slowly, and gratefully. Vertaga as a rule were a headstrong and fearless race, and Rukh was obviously no exception. But he had put his own reckless desires to the side to obey his general’s command, and that was a promising sign indeed.

  “Continue your watch, Rukh,” Garnuk said finally. “Harg and I will brief my companions about our mission tomorrow. How long until your shift is over?”

  Rukh glanced at the sky. “An hour or so,” he replied.

  “Very well,” Garnuk said, getting to his feet. “Now, if the two of you would help me get off this ledge, I would be most grateful.”

  “No head for heights general?” Rukh asked, smirking to himself.