To another vertag, those words would have been an insult to do battle over. But Garnuk was smart enough to not let offhand questions get to him. Besides, fighting on a ledge this narrow would inevitably lead to the death of one or both combatants. Maybe all three if Harg got caught in the middle.
Of course, while he would not fight him, Garnuk’s evaluation of Rukh took a significant hit.
“Not so much that as I don’t enjoy having nothing under my feet, dangling by my hands,” Garnuk replied. “We vertaga were not meant to fly or fight in the skies. We fight better on the ground, both feet planted in our mountains. When we are entrenched thus, none can harm us.”
“Aye, that’s why we are here in the first place,” Rukh murmured, scowling towards Dun Carryl. “The Usurper is going against our nature. He is putting us in a position to fail and die in droves.”
“Exactly,” Harg agreed. “Come, general. Let us get you back to safety.”
They negotiated the spur of rock with significantly less drama and difficulty than the last time. As before, Harg went first to help Garnuk find hand and footholds, but this time the Exile was able to swing around with little assistance. He knew what he was facing now, with none of the heart-stopping uncertainty of preparing to hang over an abyss.
They found Lun and Vars waiting for them, sitting with their backs against the rocky spur, their weapons lying at their sides.
“Anything to report?” Garnuk asked worriedly, glancing back down the mountain.
“Nothing,” Lun grunted. “But it never hurts to be too careful, even if we did cover our tracks well.”
Vars nodded silently in agreement, continuing to scan the slopes of the mountain.
“You both did well,” Garnuk told them. “Very well. Crossing the Fells undetected as we did is no small feat. Especially this close to Dun Carryl. But we will have to be even more cautious during the next part of our journey.”
“Hunting the butcher,” Vars murmured.
Garnuk nodded gravely. “Yes.”
“Easy,” Lun said. “’We stay far enough back that he can’t see us, then follow his tracks.”
“Won’t work.”
Lun looked up at Harg, annoyed. “Oh? And why won’t that work?”
“I suppose we have to be closer?” Vars muttered angrily.
“Yes,” Harg said unapologetically. “The road is well-traveled initially. His tracks will be indistinguishable from the tracks of others. And, depending on the nature of his mission, Arasnak may be taking pains to cover his trail further along.”
“A good point,” Garnuk agreed. “We follow closely, then, but not like fools. I will follow him directly. Lun and Vars will follow me, close enough to lend assistance if needed, but not close enough that Arasnak can see them.”
“That’s a little better,” Vars said brightly.
“But,” Garnuk continued. “If there is trouble, I expect the two of you to be up with me in an instant. Together we can beat the butcher. But if the two of you run, he will kill me and hunt you two down next.”
He paused to let that sink in. “And, if by some miracle the butcher does not catch you and rend you limb from limb, I will haunt you until the end of time.”
“We will not run, general,” Lun said, tilting his head back proudly. “We are Shadow Squadron, not hornless humans. We fight.”
“Make sure you remember that,” Garnuk cautioned. “Harg, can you think of a spot which will allow us to pick up Arasnak’s trail initially?”
“Yes,” the spy replied immediately. “There is a sheltered clearing a little above the trail on the east side. There we can watch without being seen and then slip in behind him when the time comes.”
Garnuk nodded slowly. “Very well. Does Rukh have a way to signal us when the butcher is on the move?”
“No need,” came a muffled cry from the other side of the spur. “A solitary vertag has just left Dun Carryl, running as though the vilest of spirits were on his heels.”
“We must move, quickly!” Harg announced. “We will be hard pressed to reach the observation point before him otherwise.”
“Already?” Vars protested. “I had hoped for a last meal at the very least.”
“Enough,” Garnuk snarled, hefting his pack. “Follow, as quietly as you can manage. Weapons at the ready.”
“While running down the mountain? That’s a sure way to impale each other.”
Garnuk regarded the other vertag steadily until Vars shifted his feet uncertainly. “Then you won’t have to worry about the butcher ripping you apart anymore.”
“Always a bright spot,” Lun said, baring his teeth in a fierce grin. “Lead on, general, and let the hunt begin.”
Garnuk turned to Harg. “Show us the way.”
The spy dropped over the cliff edge without a second thought, then began shambling down the slope, working his way eastward steadily. Garnuk, Lun, and Vars followed as quickly as they could, cursing as they stumbled over root and rock.
Initially they sacrificed stealth for speed, careening down the mountain, nearly out of control. A half dozen times, Garnuk nearly overbalanced and it took every ounce of strength and coordination he had not to fall the rest of the way down the mountain in the center of his own personal avalanche. Lun and Vars fared no better, but Harg seemed to relish the challenge, displaying an unnatural agility and recklessness.
“This . . . is . . . very . . . dangerous!” Vars yelped as he narrowly avoided a collision with a massive fir tree.
“Save your breath for running!” Garnuk snarled back, nearly losing his balance as he slid on a patch of ice. “How much further Harg?”
“Far,” the spy said enigmatically. “But we will be through the worst part soon, and then we can slow down. We will have to slow down, to avoid detection.”
“Will we arrive before Arasnak?”
Harg kept running. “Perhaps.”
Discouraged by the lack of a definite answer, Garnuk increased his speed until he was level with Harg. “Then let’s go faster,” he urged. “Lun, Vars, keep up.”
“Doing our best, general!” Lun called.
Onward they ran. Even though he was distracted by the mission, and the hundreds of details he had wanted time to sort out, there were certain things that Garnuk noticed along the way. The way the ground began to level out and the trees grew denser, the way the snow grew deeper and softer, the way Harg slowed the pace and began treading with care, alert for the first sound or sight of danger. He noticed too that they were growing ever closer to the narrow floor of the canyon, and to the road the butcher would be traveling on.
The road they would have to cross to get into position.
“Keep going,” Garnuk grunted as Harg hesitated. “We must be nearly there.”
“We are,” Harg promised. “But we don’t know where the butcher is. He could be here any moment.”
“We can’t stay here,” Garnuk snapped, looking around. “No cover except a few firs.”
“If we are caught – ”
“That grows all the more likely while you waste time debating the point!” the Exile growled.
Realizing that he would not win this argument, Harg turned and sprinted across the road, closely followed by Garnuk and the others. Once in the shelter on the far side, they crept up the mountain several meters and began moving along the slope. Finally, they reached a well-hidden observation point. To the right, the north, a narrow trail sloped gently down to join the main road not far off.
“Perfect,” Garnuk murmured. “Well done, Harg.”
Lun and Vars were gasping for breath, hunched over with their clawed hands on their muscular thighs. “I think I sprained every joint I have,” Vars muttered, rubbing at his feet.
“But we made it,” Garnuk countered, peering at the road. “That is what matters.”
“Nice to know you care,” Vars shot back under his breath.
Garnuk let the comment slide, wondering how much longer it would be before he had to dea
l with Vars in a more decisive way. But all such thoughts were driven from his mind as a solitary, fast-moving figure rounded a bend in the road.
“Get down!” Garnuk hissed, dropping flat so that only his eyes were above the surrounding bushes. The others followed his example quickly, hardly daring to breathe.
As Arasnak approached them, breathing deeply and pounding the icy road with his booted feet, Garnuk shuddered inwardly. He remembered the butcher well, remembered his frightening strength and ferocity. The savagery with which he demolished his victims. And he recognized the same demonic light of old in those pitiless black eyes. There was no vertag alive quite so ruthless or dangerous as Arasnak. Yet Garnuk was proposing to follow him who knew how far, attempting to remain undetected.
The butcher ran on past, hardly glancing left or right and Garnuk breathed a sigh of relief, resting his head on the ground for just a moment as he composed himself. Then, he lifted his head again, measuring distances, scouting the lay of the land, watching to see how much attention Arasnak was paying his surroundings as he ran.
“This is where you leave us,” Garnuk murmured to Harg. “You will not likely hear from us again, succeed or fail. Keep an eye on Dun Carryl and continue sending reports back to Banta Kodu. And be careful. You and Rukh have one of the more dangerous places to spy on, you know.”
“But we’re not following the butcher,” Harg replied with a savage smile. “Take care, general. Bring that demon to heel if you can.”
Garnuk smiled mirthlessly, then slithered sideways and rose into a crouch, staying behind the cover of the rocks and bushes. The butcher was forty meters away now, and still gaining. He never looked back or sideways, running with single-minded focus and determination.
“Wherever he’s going, it must be important,” Garnuk murmured.
Then, without another backwards glance or thought, he loped down the slope to the road and set off after Arasnak, beginning the hunt for the Fells’ most dangerous game.
Chapter 16:
Demon Lair
Garnuk did not spare a glance to check if Lun and Vars were following. Instead, he remained intent on his quarry, watching for the slightest warning that the butcher was about to check his back trail. If that should happen, Garnuk would have a split second to either hide, attack, or run, whichever seemed the best option. Accordingly, he endeavored to constantly keep track of his surroundings and possible places to shelter or run to, even as he strove to move as silently as possible. Despite those efforts, Garnuk felt he was being about as stealthy as a mountain bear, blundering through the snow, boots crunching and squeaking in the soft, white crystals.
For the first few minutes, an unreasonable, paralyzing terror gripped Garnuk. Every nerve he had screamed for him to turn and run, to hide, to stay still and silent and let the butcher move on ahead of him. But Garnuk stayed the course, knowing that the moment Arasnak was out of his sight the other vertag was as good as lost. There would be no picking up his trail again. So Garnuk mastered his fear, crushed it and hid it away, forcing himself to focus and function and plan.
It seemed his fear was unnecessary, though. For not once had Arasnak turn around or shown any inclination to do so. And, Garnuk realized, the other vertag was traveling at a scorching pace. Any noise that Garnuk, now forty meters behind, made would be more than covered by the sounds of Arasnak’s labored breathing and heavy movements. Lun and Vars, who Garnuk heard only occasionally, would be even harder for Arasnak to hear. Somewhat comforted by this, Garnuk increased his pace, breathing deeply and evenly, slowly relaxing the longer he went without discovery until he was calm, collected, and capable once more.
They followed the butcher along the road for the better part of an hour, winding between the foothills of the mountains, passing through forest and vale. Every time they entered a stretch of open ground, Garnuk would hesitate in his stride slightly before plunging on, knowing that if he waited his quarry would be lost. In the back of his mind, the Exile knew if Arasnak turned at any point while they were crossing a vale, the chase would be over and a fight for survival would begin.
Finally, as the sun was beginning to slip towards the horizon, Garnuk perceived a slight change in Arasnak’s manner. The vertag had been running right down the middle of the road, where the footing was least treacherous and there were few obstacles. Now, though, he was angling off to the side, preparatory to plunging off the road and into the wilderness. Garnuk instinctively knew that if the butcher looked back anywhere it would be here, and quickly ducked behind a boulder, hoping Lun and Vars would have the sense to do the same. Then, the Exile cautiously peered around the stone he sheltered behind, watching.
Sure enough, the moment Arasnak reached the edge of the road, he looked back. A cursory glance, no more, merely a casual pass of the eyes over lands he fully expected to be devoid of life. Then, Arasnak continued on.
Garnuk realized now why the chase had gone so smoothly, and he smiled grimly to himself. The butcher was overconfident, trusting that no one in their right mind would follow him or could. After all, he had made this secret journey numerous times now without incident. Why should this trip be any different?
The Exile chuckled to himself, wishing he had thought of this before. It would have saved him much worrying and doubt over the past few days, and certainly would have done much for the confidence of Lun and Vars. He looked back, trying to spot his two companions, but could not see them. Shrugging to himself, he rose from cover and made for the spot where Arasnak had left the road, quickly finding his footprints and following them along a narrow gorge.
Initially, Garnuk sped up, thinking he needed to make up ground in order to get within sight of the butcher. But as he continued to run, he noticed the cliffs bordering the gorge growing steeper and steeper, the mountains above looming over him with their jagged, inhospitable peaks. It quickly became apparent that there was nowhere to go but forward, and Arasnak still was not bothering to cover his tracks. Garnuk hesitated for a moment, then came to a decision.
He stopped and turned back, waving for Lun and Vars to join him. They exchanged a glance, then loped up to his position, half crouching when they reached him, their weapons still drawn and ready for use.
“What’s happened?” Lun asked, looking around. “Have we lost him or something?”
“Are we retreating?” Vars asked hopefully.
Garnuk glared at him. “No. And we have not lost him. But we are getting close now, and I think it best if we stick together and tread carefully going forwards.”
“Getting close? Already?” Lun asked, surprised. “We’re less than half a day’s march from Dun Carryl!”
“Yes,” Garnuk agreed. “But look at the land around us. This canyon is growing deeper and deeper, with no apparent exit. Ahead, the mountains continue to rise. It is a good hiding place, out of the way and nestled in the wilderness, yet near enough to Dun Carryl to make reporting in easy.”
Lun nodded thoughtfully. “That’s true enough,” he agreed. “But what could be down here?”
“We’ll find out,” Garnuk said decisively, tightening the straps on his shield and shifting his grip on his sword. “Stay quiet and stay close. Keep your eyes out for an ambush or sentries. We’ll assume for now that the butcher stayed in the canyon and keep following it, sticking to the shadows at the edges.”
“Better than walking in plain sight,” Vars observed.
“Yes, but we need to watch for ways out of the canyon and check the trail periodically just in case,” Garnuk added. “Just because there has not been a trail out of here so far does not mean there isn’t one.”
“Eyes open, stay quiet,” Lun grunted. “We will obey, general. Lead on.”
Garnuk nodded and moved to the edge of the canyon, picking his way amongst boulders, scree, and stunted trees. The lighting was uncertain here, the shadows deep and shifting. Any sentry watching for intruders would have to be very alert and very skilled to spot the three vertaga moving along the canyon.
<
br /> Night fell and still Garnuk crept onwards, followed by his two companions. They saw no other exits from the canyon, and Garnuk could still discern the butcher’s tracks off to their right, in the center of the canyon.
Then, three hours after sunset, the tracks stopped.
Garnuk froze, puzzled, and glanced back at Lun and Vars. “The tracks are gone,” he whispered. “Have you seen a side canyon or a break in the cliffs?”
“No, general,” Lun grunted quietly. Vars shook his head and shrugged in reply.
Garnuk frowned and turned to face forwards again. Glancing up, he noticed that there were cliffs ahead of them as well now, rearing up to block the night sky.
“We are at the end of the canyon,” he murmured. “So we cannot be too far away . . .”
“There!” Lun said urgently, pointing towards the cliffs, grabbing Garnuk by the shoulder so suddenly that the Exile nearly attacked him. “There was a movement, light on metal!”
Garnuk looked slightly to the side of where Lun was pointing, knowing his peripheral vision was more likely to pick up small movements than if he were staring at the place straight on. Sure enough, something moved, but it seemed to stop again the moment Garnuk focused on it.
“Let’s move a little closer,” he decided, keeping his voice low. “Quietly now.”
Garnuk led the way, moving a few paces at a time, testing the ground with each step to make sure there were no branches to crush underfoot. At the same time, he scanned the canyon ahead, trying to catch the movement Lun had observed once more and hone in on its position, or even determine what it was. He could see the base of the cliffs at the end of the canyon now, but there was still no sign of the butcher, or any other –
A movement. Slight and uncertain, cloaked in shadow even as Garnuk and his companions were, partially screened by the uneven shape of the cliffs. Garnuk waited, peering into the gloom. There it was again! Almost out of sight from his current position. Garnuk cautiously moved to the left three paces, allowing him to see past the outcrop.
There, sheltering from the bitter cold in the lee of the cliffs, was a single vertag sentry. He had a heavy war spear held upright in his right hand, a large shield on his left arm. On the shield was the device which had been mentioned in the spies’ reports, the arrangement of lines that formed a crude representation of Dun Carryl. This was one of the Usurper’s soldiers.
The Ramshuk (Heirs of Legacy Book 3) Page 16
