The Ramshuk (Heirs of Legacy Book 3)

by Paul Lauritsen

  But they were not. After several seconds, it became apparent that not only was the varloug pran not going to attack Arasnak, but it had accepted his weight on its shoulders. It growled quietly to itself, waiting.

  Tentatively, Arasnak urged it forwards. The varloug pran growled but took a step. Encouraged, the butcher moved the wolf demon around the pit, experimenting. The varloug pran obeyed, submissive to the vertag now that Arasnak had asserted his dominance.

  Garnuk swore and pounded his fist against the stone wall. “Let’s go,” he murmured. “We’ve seen what we need to. Now we need to find a way to counter this.”

  “Counter it how?” Vars asked.

  Garnuk shook his head. “I don’t know yet. That’s why we need to get moving, so that I can figure it out.”

  Vars shrugged and started to lead the way out of the large central cave. Then, Garnuk stopped as he heard Arasnak issue another command.

  “Release the others.”

  Vars turned around wide-eyed, the question on his lips. Garnuk nodded and looked back at the pit, wondering what would happen. Arasnak had just barely managed to control one varloug pran, isolated from its kin. How could he possibly hope to control others as well?

  But the vertaga manning the gate chains did not share Garnuk’s doubts. They cheered and pulled on every lever attached to the contraption. All around the arena, gates began opening, the sounds of snarling, growling beasts intensifying with each passing moment. Dark shapes moved in the shadows, preparing to burst into the open.

  Then, Arasnak howled in a decent approximation of the varloug pran’s blood-chilling tones. Immediately, his steed took up the call, and an instant later, it was echoed by a dozen others. All around the arena, varloug prans were emerging from the shadows, loping to join their comrade at the center, sniffing curiously at Arasnak. But they did not attack.

  They accepted the butcher.

  “This pack has a new alpha wolf!” Arasnak shouted, raising his fists in victory.

  The vertaga ringing the pit cheered spontaneously, slapping each other on the backs and cracking their horns together noisily. While they were thus distracted, Garnuk and Vars made their escape, running back through the entrance tunnel to rejoin Lun and retreat.

  They burst out of the cave complex, surprising Lun so badly that he nearly skewered his two companions before recognizing them. The moment he realized his error, he dropped the spear and readied his axe, looking back into the tunnel.

  “What’s going on?” he asked. “I heard all kinds of noises and howls. Are you being pursued? What did you find?”

  “Later,” Garnuk grunted. “For now, back to the spy camp. We need to regroup and decide our next move.”

  “You mean run all the way back the way we came here?” Lun asked, tilting his head.

  “You can wait around here if you want,” Vars growled, shoving Lun towards the mouth of the canyon. “But I am getting out of here and following the general.”

  Garnuk nodded and set off at a run, loping through the stygian night. He was tired, worn down from the day’s exertions. But fear lent him the strength he needed to keep going.

  As they ran, Garnuk did his best to determine what this new development meant for Shadow Squadron and his plans to manipulate the war. The balance of power would certainly be shifted by the addition of these beasts to the Usurper’s ranks. Troops would be able to move from place to place with immense speed. And the varloug prans would help cover one of the vertaga’s main weaknesses: cavalry.

  During the war with the Sthan, Garnuk hadn’t encountered any large cavalry forces in an extended battle. But he had heard reports from the survivors of running skirmishes after the slaughter at Ganned’s Gorge. Horses gave men several advantages, including height and reach, speed, maneuverability, and power. A running man did not hit with anywhere near the same force as a man riding a galloping horse.

  But the varloug prans would be at least as fast and maneuverable as horses. Besides that, they were larger and more equipped for battle with their crushing paws, long fangs, and keen senses.

  Keen senses. Garnuk cursed as he realized that he would have to put all of his spies on alert in case they came near one of these creatures. Legend had it that a varloug pran could smell for miles. Garnuk wasn’t sure if he believed that incredible range, but he would be a fool to think that their sense of smell would not be excellent at the least. They were similar to overgrown wolves after all.

  They emerged from the canyon and kept running. Garnuk did not slow his pace until they returned to the main road. He looked back once to see if they had been pursued, but there was nothing behind them. Breathing a sigh of relief, he led Vars and Lun across the road and into the wilderness again. They would take things more slowly now, staying concealed in the rough and wild lands bordering the path.

  “Now will you tell me what you found?” Lun asked as they slowed to a trot.

  Garnuk nodded, glancing back across the road one more time. “Arasnak has been training varloug prans to act as steeds for the Usurper’s warriors.”

  Lun tilted his head, puzzled. “Varloug prans?” he repeated. “They’re myths.”

  “Not anymore,” Vars told him. “There were at least a dozen of them in that cave, wolves larger than bears and with a savage intensity I have never seen.”

  “Not very wolf-like behavior,” Garnuk mused. “Normally they move quietly and in packs. They attack with numbers and stealth rather than speed and strength.”

  “These could do both,” Vars pointed out. “And they seem to have retained that pack organization. I’ll bet that is why the butcher was able to gain the trust of the others that quickly.”

  “He said the pack has a new alpha,” Garnuk agreed, nodding. “That could be problematic. If they respond that well to a single leader, then Arasnak could recruit legions of the beasts for the Usurper’s cause.”

  “If that many exist,” Vars countered, shaking his head. “The Fells are big, but I can’t believe that there haven’t been confirmed sightings of these creatures before.”

  “Enough, tell me what you really found!” Lun said abruptly, thrusting his head forward belligerently.

  Garnuk and Vars fell silent, and turned to look at their agitated comrade as one.

  “Varloug prans,” Garnuk said slowly. “That is what we found, Lun. We’re telling the truth.”

  “Not possible,” the vertag muttered, looking back over his shoulder. “Myths. Legends. Creations of those smoke-watching elders.”

  “Not this time,” Garnuk countered. Although, Lun’s words had triggered something in his memory. A demon. Surrounded by many other, smaller demons. Maybe there had been some truth to those visions after all, he realized. The Exile wondered worriedly what other parts of the Banuk elders’ visions had been real.

  Lun, meanwhile, fell silent, frowning at the ground and gripping his axe tightly. Garnuk was not sure whether the other vertag was afraid or clinging stubbornly to his disbelief.

  “Still, how could such large destructive creatures hide in the Fells?” Vars pressed. “Surely they would be common knowledge by now!”

  “I don’t think it is in the nature of such beasts to hide,” Garnuk mused. “Perhaps, they just don’t leave survivors from their hunts.”

  Vars shuddered visibly, and checked their back trail surreptitiously. “I would not care to be hunted by them,” he muttered.

  “Nor would I,” Garnuk agreed quietly. “Nor would I.”

  It took them many long hours of following the road before they came within sight of the lookout cliff that Rukh and Harg were using as a base. After that, it was a relatively simple matter to retrace their steps back to the clearing where they had first met the two spies. At last, as dawn was approaching, the three vertaga wearily climbed the short line of cliffs to the spy camp. There they found Rukh, sleeping in the shelter of the rock outcrop at the back of the small plateau.

  Garnuk glanced at the sleeping vertag and snorted. “Just as well
we are not enemies,” he observed. “I suppose the other is keeping watch.”

  Garnuk heard scuffling noises from the other side of the outcrop, then Harg’s head appeared, looking warily into the campsite. The vertag blinked in surprise as he identified Garnuk and the others.

  “General!” he said, awkwardly saluting with one arm as he clung to the cliff with the other. “What’s wrong? Did the hunt not work out? Did the butcher escape?”

  “Not exactly,” Garnuk replied, sinking to the ground with a sigh and stretching his legs out in front of him. “We followed Arasnak to a cave complex about half a day’s run from here. It wasn’t difficult,” he added, shrugging. “He wasn’t trying to conceal his trail at all.”

  “Only a half day away?” Harg asked, surprised. “What was he up to?”

  Garnuk glanced at the sleeping Rukh and came to a decision. “Best come to this side of the cliff and wake Rukh,” he told Harg. “That will save me explaining twice.”

  Harg nodded and disappeared for a moment. Then he was back, swinging deftly around the rock face and landing lightly on the stony plateau. He proceeded to wake Rukh with a rough shake, leaping back as his companion’s clawed hand shot out to grab him by the ankle.

  “It’s not my watch yet,” Rukh grumbled. “Go away.”

  “The general wants to speak with us.”

  “He’s gone,” Rukh mumbled, rolling over. “Nice try though.”

  “He was gone, but he’s back,” Garnuk interrupted gruffly.

  Rukh’s eyes shot open and he sat up immediately, scratching at his horns. “General!” he cried in surprise. “Welcome back. Much sooner than we expected.”

  “We found out what we needed to know,” Garnuk replied, shrugging. “Arasnak has been training varloug prans to act as steeds for the Usurper’s soldiers.”

  Initially, the two spies reacted with the same stunned disbelief as Lun. But they soon came around as Garnuk and Vars described the beasts in great detail, and how exactly the butcher had dominated them. It was not long before disbelief turned to very real fear.

  “You must be on your guard,” Garnuk finished some minutes later. “We don’t know the full capabilities of these creatures yet. Do not engage if at all possible.”

  “Understood,” Harg said quietly, staring out over the Fells.

  “Any updates from our headquarters?” Garnuk asked, glancing at Rukh.

  The vertag shook his head. “No, general. Nothing to report.”

  “Hmm,” Garnuk murmured. “Well, I need one of you to carry a message back. Tell Danur what we have found. If he needs to contact us,” Garnuk added, pulling out a crumpled map, “We’ll be setting up a new camp here.”

  Lun frowned at the spot that Garnuk had indicated. “Near the West Bank?” he asked dubiously. “What is there that is of interest to us?”

  Garnuk smiled grimly. “Nothing, yet. But with the emergence of the varloug prans, the odds are a little further in the Usurper’s favor than I would like. It may be time to level the scales a little bit.”

  Chapter 18:

  Across the Basin

  Despite the urgency of the situation, Garnuk and his companions elected to spend the rest of that day and the following night recovering from their exertions. Traveling to and from the butcher’s lair had taken a physical and mental toll on them all, and they’d had little chance to rest and prepare prior to that mission. Now, they finally were able to recover for a few hours and allow worn-out muscles to rest.

  While Garnuk, Lun, and Vars alternated between sleeping, dozing, and taking quietly amongst themselves, Harg and Rukh continued their vigilant watch over the surrounding lands. There was an added urgency and tension to these watches now though, with the knowledge that there could be a dozen varloug prans on the loose.

  The morning after their return, Garnuk and his two companions rose before the sun. Harg was on sentry duty, and Rukh was fast asleep beside the dying fire. He would need the rest, since he had been elected to carry the news back to Banta Kodu.

  Garnuk looked around the little camp, sighed, then shouldered his pack reluctantly.

  “Let’s go,” he said briefly to the others.

  Lun and Vars grunted, then followed him down the short cliff, dropping the last meter or so, their boots thudding heavily into the thin layer of snow and ice. Then, they were off, trekking northwards once again.

  The pace was slower than their headlong journey two days earlier, slower even than the pace Garnuk had set on the way to Dun Carryl. The northern mountains of the Fells were more heavily populated by vertaga, and there would be Sthan traders roaming about as well. So, the need for concealment outweighed the need for speed. Garnuk accepted this philosophically, knowing that a slower pace meant they could march longer each day without tiring, maybe even push through the night once or twice if he felt they needed to.

  It also meant that in the event of an ambush, they would have plenty of energy to run or fight.

  Three days passed while Garnuk and his two companions wound their way through the mountains, crossing vales, cresting rolling foothills, circumventing jagged peaks. Light snows fell occasionally, but nothing like the terrible blizzard he and Tarq had encountered on their journey south.

  Finally, on the fourth day, Garnuk noticed that the spaces between peaks were no longer filled with the sight of more mountains, but with wide open flatlands. By that evening, the three vertaga were out of the Fells and descending from the foothills into the Renlor Basin.

  “A strange land,” Vars observed as they sat around a small, smokeless fire that night, trying to shield the frail flames from the powerful winds. He turned his back on the fire for a moment as he looked around the featureless landscape. “So flat and empty.”

  “The going will be easier now,” Lun observed, extending his aching feet towards the flames.

  “Maybe, but it will be easier to be seen too,” Vars muttered worriedly.

  “It also means less chance of an ambush,” Garnuk reminded him. “Our enemies may be able to see farther now, but so can we. And remember, more of our foes in this area will be men, unaccustomed to hunting at night and with inferior eyes that cannot penetrate the dark.”

  “That will help,” Lun agreed.

  Vars muttered something unintelligible under his breath, then looked away.

  “Something the matter?” “Garnuk asked casually.

  Vars scowled. “I don’t like this, leaving the Fells,” he said finally.

  “Why?”

  “It has a certain symmetry, doesn’t it?” Vars observed with a sneer. “Ten years ago, our kind left the Fells to conquer the world of men. We were slaughtered in droves. Now, we leave the mountains again, and the protection of the spirits.”

  “What are you getting at?” Garnuk growled.

  “You don’t see?” Vars demanded. He took a deep breath, then plunged on. “Last time, the Sthan won. We lost. Now, we leave our homeland again. Why should the result be any different?”

  “That’s why we are here,” Garnuk said impatiently, “To thwart the Usurper.”

  “By helping men eliminate what is left of our race?” Vars demanded.

  “No,” Garnuk said quickly.

  “Then why are we running north to alert men to our presence in the Basin and warn them?”

  “We aren’t – ”

  “Then why are we running north?”

  “To balance the scales again.”

  “By helping men.”

  “If need be.”

  “And what good does balancing your precious scales do for the vertaga, general?” Vars asked.

  Garnuk frowned. “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “There is nothing to understand here,” Vars snapped. “You are trying to put men and vertaga on the same level so that they can tear each other apart. Would the vertaga spreading across the world be such a bad thing?”

  The Exile sighed heavily, aware that Lun was not coming to his defense, merely watching the exchange
with interest. “I understand your confusion, Vars. You misunderstand the balance I am trying to strike. It is not between a Sthan victory and a vertaga victory. It is between complete defeat and partial defeat for our kin.”

  “What?” Vars whispered.

  “The Sthan are powerful,” Garnuk said gravely. “Too powerful for even the full might of our people, even with the varloug prans. There is no hope of victory for the Ramshuk, even if I deployed my considerable skills to help him achieve his goal – which I won’t.”

  “The balance I seek,” Garnuk continued, “Is the one where we lose the war, but are still able to retreat into the Fells and keep our homeland. And keep men out of it. If the Usurper’s forces are beaten back and the Sthan provide stiff resistance, we can withdraw in such numbers that they will be wary of pursuing us into the Fells. That is the victory I seek.”

  “And so we ride north to see that the Usurper does not win the Basin and overstretch his forces, thus inviting crushing defeat and giving the Sthan confidence,” Lun observed.

  Garnuk nodded. “Precisely. And if the Usurper is beaten back, our people will hold him accountable for his failure. As they did to me.”

  “Then who takes over?” Vars asked.

  “Hopefully myself,” Garnuk replied. “But,” he added casually, “I have not devised a plan to accomplish that end yet. If another should come into the favor of our people, one who would keep us isolated and strong until we can beat the Sthan, then I would be content to support that ram, free my family, and live in isolation somewhere in the mountains.”

  “A simple life,” Lun said, smiling at the thought. “I am not sure it would suit a ram of your prowess, general.”

  “My life has been dogged by war and bloodshed,” Garnuk said quietly. “And now, my family is bound by the chains of slavery, laboring in drudgery for the Usurper. I am ready for peace. To put an end to this running around and scheming.”

  Garnuk fell silent then, gazing into the flames, pretending that his mind was far away, allowing his eyes to unfocus slightly for effect. All the time though, he was watching his two companions, gauging their reactions. Lun, he could see, was more than convinced by his speech. Vars on the other hand scowled into the flames and kept touching the hilt of his axe to make sure it was close at hand. He would bear watching, no doubt about it.