The Ramshuk (Heirs of Legacy Book 3)

by Paul Lauritsen

  “I will take the first watch,” Lun said finally, interrupting Garnuk’s thoughts.

  “And I the second,” Garnuk volunteered. “That will give each of you several hours of uninterrupted sleep.”

  Vars grunted, offering no thanks for the small favor. Instead, he rolled over and closed his eyes, falling asleep in minutes while Garnuk scanned the surrounding lands one last time before turning in himself.

  The night passed slowly, dark clouds racing overhead, thunder rumbling over the plains. It did not snow, but a steady, keening wind sprang up and kept blowing into the small hours of the morning when Garnuk’s watch ended. He did not sleep after his watch though. The Exile couldn’t trust Vars not to try something while he slept.

  The following morning they set off again, marching ever northwards. The going was much easier now, as they had moved from the rugged Fells to the flat, featureless Basin. The only minor irritation was that the snow was deeper here, piled in drifts instead of spread in thin sheets over steep slopes. More than once, Garnuk stumbled into hidden holes and plunged head first into a snow bank. After the third such instance, the three warriors rotated the lead spot regularly.

  Three more days passed before they reached a notable landmark, though it was not quite what they had expected. Garnuk was leading the way, when he noticed a dark smudge not far in the distance. For a moment, he thought it was a solitary hill or some other undulation in the otherwise flat plain. But as they drew closer, he realized that it was not a hill at all. The smudge was in fact, a thick layer of ashes and charred debris in the churned snow and dirt: the remains of a Sthan village.

  Garnuk and the others picked their way through the rubble indifferently. They already had a good idea of who had done the deed. The bones they found in the village well merely confirmed their suspicions.

  “A war party,” Garnuk murmured. “Wiped them out to a man.”

  “A clean fight,” Vars grunted. “Not that villagers would stand a chance against vertaga warriors anyway.”

  Lun was moving somewhat away from the others, studying something in the snow. “They weren’t the only ones that came here,” he announced suddenly. “There are other tracks, fresher ones. Several days old but more recent than the rest of this destruction.”

  Garnuk joined him quickly, kneeling to examine the tracks. “Hooves,” he said briefly, glancing up at the others. “These were not made by vertaga.”

  “Obviously,” Vars grunted.

  “The Sthan know about the raids then,” Lun observed, gazing northwards.

  “So this venture was a waste of time after all,” Vars added, glaring at Garnuk.

  “No,” the Exile replied, shaking his head. “It was not. All we know is that men came to the village and found it gone. We don’t know who those men were, who they told, if anyone. We don’t even know that they had the chance to tell anyone. There are many war bands on the plains right now.”

  “That is true,” Lun admitted, a trifle shamefaced at his reckless jump to a conclusion.

  “We press on,” Garnuk continued, straightening and brushing snow from his clawed hands. “To the north and west. If this is the village I believe it to be, we are close. Another day of running or less and we will be there.”

  “Then what’s the hurry?” Vars asked. “Let’s slow down, take our time. Rest every now and then.”

  Garnuk shook his head immediately. “No. Time is wasting. We move on.”

  Lun shrugged. “Lead on, general,” he said, ignoring the look that Vars shot his way. Garnuk hesitated a moment longer, disturbed by Vars’ attitude, then set off at a league-eating lope. The others followed without a word.

  True to the Exile’s prediction, they came within sight of the Sthan fortress called the West Bank later that night. The moment Garnuk saw the stone structure, he veered northwest to avoid it, making for the tumbled and rocky hills to the west of the fortress. There would be plenty of hiding places for three vertaga there, and the hills would command a good view of the Basin on all sides.

  When the sun rose the next morning, Garnuk had found the site of their new camp. In his relentless searching, he had chanced on a narrow gulley running into a hillside largely surrounded by cliffs three to four meters in height. The gully wound upwards and around in a thin, snaking trail, eventually emerging on top of the hill in a bowl-shaped depression. A quick look around confirmed that there was no other easy way off the hill.

  “We’ll camp here,” Garnuk announced, setting his pack down at the lowest point in the bowl. “Lun, see if you can get a fire going. Vars, find a good lookout spot where we can see without being seen.”

  “And where will you be?” Vars challenged.

  “Looking around,” Garnuk replied. “Trying to decide what our next move is.”

  Vars grunted and stalked away, moving around the perimeter of the hilltop.

  “What’s gotten into him?” Lun wondered aloud as he began delicately placing branches for the fire.

  Garnuk shrugged carelessly. “It seems that he no longer cares for the mission.”

  “I’ll admit, it is odd coming this far north to warn men when we should be hiding in the Fells,” Lun mused. “But based on the way you explained things the other day, I agree. To achieve true victory, we must be willing to put aside the normal way of doing things. You’ve been doing that from the start, general. Using brains instead of muscle, observing rather than charging in. Taking minor losses to win a war rather than losing with major losses.”

  Garnuk nodded absently as he moved back towards the gully that led to the hilltop. “It’s nice to know that one of you has faith in me,” he muttered.

  Lun tilted his head thoughtfully as he struck flint and steel together, showering sparks over the small mound of wood he had built. “I do not think the problem is that Vars does not have faith in you, general. He is just having a hard time adjusting to all of . . . all of this.” He swept a clawed hand around to indicate the campsite, the flatlands, and their general situation.

  Garnuk grunted. “I hope you are right, Lun.” He sighed and turned away, then added under his breath. “But I fear that you may be wrong.”

  Lun did not hear him, absorbed as he was with getting the weak flames to take a stronger hold. Vars did not hear either, for he was at the other end of the hill, poking around in some bushes for a likely watch spot.

  Garnuk meanwhile descended back to the flatlands below and wandered around the base of the hill, alone with his thoughts, with only the desolate keening of the wind for company. The wind was a constant here, he realized. And with no mountains to slow down or redirect it, it was a force to be reckoned with.

  As was Vars. A disgruntled companion was the last thing that Garnuk needed right now. It was bad enough that Garnuk was losing sleep over the distrust growing between them. But what if Vars should do something foolish, or betray the Exile altogether. What if he left Shadow Squadron, or went back to Dun Carryl and told the Usurper all he knew?

  That would not do at all, Garnuk mused, looking back at the hilltop. He could not see Lun and Vars from here, due to the height of the hill and the way the edges flared up above the center. Yes, this would do very well for a northern base. Perhaps he would ask Tarq and Koah to send some more rams north to join him, to collect information at this camp as well. It would cut down on travel times for the spies stationed outside of other cities of men.

  Garnuk did not return to the camp at the top of the hill until dawn was brightening the horizon to the east. By then, he had numerous half-baked plans and ideas, all in need of polishing and refining before he could put any into action. What he needed most right now was sleep, to restore his mind and body to their peak performance.

  Thankfully, Lun was on watch, with Vars curled up beside the small fire, his back to the flames. Garnuk lay down not far off and closed his eyes, dreaming of the mountains he had left only days earlier, wishing that just once he could go back in time and reclaim what had been lost.

 
The three vertaga took turns dozing and keeping watch through the next two days. Garnuk himself continued plotting and planning, trying to decide how best to alert the Sthan warriors in the area that trouble was coming. It wasn’t as though he could march up to their gates with a flag of truce and negotiate with them. The Exile could only imagine the reception such actions would receive, both from the Sthan and from his own followers.

  At the end of the second day, Garnuk was sitting beside another small fire with Lun when Vars hailed them from the lookout spot at the southern edge of the hill.

  “Someone’s coming!” he called.

  Garnuk and Lun were on their feet in an instant, drawing their weapons and running to join their comrade. Garnuk crouched beside Vars, peering out over the flatlands. Sure enough, in the fading light of day, a distant figure was moving rapidly towards the concealed camp.

  “He’s moving rather purposefully,” Lun observed, shading his eyes against the sun.

  “And he’s a vertag,” Garnuk added. “All alone too,” he observed.

  “A messenger from Banta Kodu?” Vars wondered aloud.

  “I shouldn’t think so,” Garnuk replied, frowning. “It’s too soon. Rukh would have only reached the Banuk stronghold a couple of days ago. Even if a messenger ran day and night, he could not reach us so fast.”

  “Then who is he?” Lun asked.

  “We’re about to find out,” Garnuk muttered. “Follow me, and keep your weapons close. Don’t attack unless I give the word though.”

  Garnuk led the way down the narrow gulley to the flatlands, pausing at the base of the hill to find their target once more. The vertag was still running, making straight for the hills.

  “Spread out,” Garnuk commanded. “Find cover. When I reveal myself, fan out and surround him. If he runs, subdue but do not kill.”

  The others nodded and lumbered away to each side, while Garnuk settled down directly in the visitor’s path.

  Only a few minutes later, the running vertag reached the base of the hill and slowed to a halt, gasping for breath. His arms were bare, despite the cold, and glistened with sweat. His massive chest rose and fell in tremendous, heaving breaths. As the vertag straightened and turned to look around, Garnuk caught sight of his face.

  “Harg!” he called, surprised. “What brings you here?”

  The ram flinched, spinning and drawing his axe in a fluid and instinctual movement. Then, he relaxed as he saw Garnuk and saluted, still winded.

  “Greetings . . . general,” he managed. He nodded briefly to Lun and Vars, who were moving up beside Garnuk.

  “I have urgent news,” he continued, glancing at Garnuk. “From Banta Kodu.”

  “Something has gone wrong?” Garnuk asked quickly.

  “No, nothing like that,” Harg replied, waving the question aside. “An opportunity. For your ears alone.”

  “Now wait just a – ” Vars began heatedly.

  Garnuk held up a hand to stop him. “If those are Harg’s instructions, we shall follow them for the time being. Lun, Vars, keep watch down here. See if you can do something about Harg’s tracks.”

  The two vertaga grunted and began attempting to wipe out the signs of Harg’s passage. Garnuk meanwhile led the exhausted vertag back to the fire at the top of the hill and sat down opposite him.

  “Now,” he asked, keeping his voice low. “What has sent you running all the way from Dun Carryl to find us? Arasnak and his pets?”

  “No,” Harg said. “A message from Tarq and the others. An opportunity. One of the spies near Narne overheard a group of merchants outside the city as they passed by. There is a unique opportunity approaching near Etares.”

  “Etares?” Garnuk snorted. “That is the Sthan capital, far away from our lands.”

  “Yes,” Harg agreed. “But this may be too good to pass up. The spy heard the merchants say that in a couple of weeks, the annual harvest hunt will occur.”

  “And what under the moon is significant about that?” Garnuk demanded.

  “It is a competition between the king and the prince,” Harg explained. “The victor is the one with the best kill. But they have to hunt alone. Each will have two guards nearby of course, but – ”

  Garnuk stopped him with a raised hand. “You’re telling me that the Sthan king will be outside his stronghold and relatively unguarded in the near future.”

  “Yes, general,” Harg said, nodding warily.

  Garnuk stared into the flames for a long moment, then looked up at Harg, his eyes blazing with hatred and a thirst for vengeance.

  “How long do I have to get there?” he growled.

  Chapter 19:

  Treachery and Deceit

  Before Harg could reply, Garnuk was already shaking his head, berating himself for the slip.

  “No, no,” he muttered. “I must not abandon the mission for personal matters. Least of all for avenging a ten-year-old defeat. No, I cannot go.”

  “This mission would go far beyond avenging defeat,” Harg pointed out. “By eliminating the king and his son, you would be slowing any Sthan response to the war in the South. It would delay the arrival of reinforcements and supplies, perhaps indefinitely. A risk worth taking.”

  “It would take a week at least to get there,” Garnuk murmured. “Traveling through the heart of the Sthan kingdom too. Far too risky. Besides, I am needed back at Banta Kodu. Everything could fall apart if I do not return quickly.”

  “Tarq said to inform you that he, Danur, and Koah could make do for the time being,” Harg said, shrugging. “Nothing disastrous has happened yet.”

  “Yet,” Garnuk said, stressing the word. “No, no, it is out of the question. I cannot go, as much as I would love to tear apart the king who cost me the war.”

  An awkward silence fell over them for several moments before Harg spoke again, tentatively, as though loath to bring up this new subject.

  “There was something else that Tarq wanted brought to your attention,” he said, almost apologetically. “Koah and Danur do not know of this, of course. But Tarq feels that eliminating the Sthan king would go a long way towards rebuilding trust with the Banuk tribe.”

  Garnuk raised his gaze from the flames sharply. “The Banuk tribe? Are they causing trouble again? Are their feeble-minded, smoke-watching elders stirring Chief Carh against Shadow Squadron and my cause?”

  “To our knowledge, no,” Harg said. “But Tarq knows that the Banuk do not entirely trust us. Our leadership, or our mission. Killing the Sthan king would give you something to point to down the road when they demand to know if you are really helping the vertaga or not.”

  Garnuk nodded slowly, thinking back to his meeting with the elders a week earlier. “Yes, I think I can see why Tarq would believe that,” he agreed. “You mentioned that he said nothing of this to Koah or Danur?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. They were Banuk first after all and may not appreciate the attitudes of their chief and elders being manipulated.”

  “Tarq also does not trust Koah.”

  “They don’t like each other,” Garnuk agreed, dismissing the matter. “They are both capable and proud after all, always trying to gain the upper hand. But they seem to work well enough together.”

  “Then you can leave them to their own devices a little longer.”

  Garnuk scowled. Everything Harg had just said was true and logical, and supported going even further north. But Garnuk could not shake the feeling that the only reason he agreed with Harg’s points was because he was looking for an excuse to indulge his wounded pride and avenge his previous defeat. The last time he had ventured so far from home, the results had been disastrous. That mistake had nearly cost the vertaga race their very existence, but the Sthan had been so relieved the war was over they didn’t even bother to search the Fells.

  “Where did this information come from?” Garnuk asked. “Surely not from any of our spies in the Fells.”

  “One of our camps to the north,” Harg explained. “
Which one I cannot say. I was under the impression the information was gathered with the assistance of human spies though. The agent Tarq sent made some disparaging comments about humans when I asked the same question.”

  “Interesting,” Garnuk murmured. “I will have to speak with Tarq next time I see him. I would be interested in learning more about these informants we have picked up.”

  “That would certainly be wise, especially if they can continue to provide first rate information like this,” Harg agreed.

  “First rate?” Garnuk snorted. “It could well be a trap, and there are so many factors to consider.” The distance was the one foremost in Garnuk’s mind, not to mention the time it would take or where the mission would be. The very center of enemy territory, farther from the Fells than the Exile had ever ventured. What he was considering was more than risky, it was nearly desperate.

  “I cannot make this decision,” Garnuk said finally, looking at Harg. “Not on my own. What do you think Harg?”

  The spy hesitated, then shrugged. “I think you should go. So do Koah, Danur, and Tarq.”

  Garnuk bared his fangs in amusement. “Yes, I thought Tarq would want me to go. He suffered because of the Sthan king too after all. If I do go, and there is every chance that I will, then I go alone.”

  “General!”

  “I have to, Harg,” Garnuk replied. “As I said, I would have to cross the heart of the Sthan kingdom to get there, and quickly. No one else can keep up with me or move as stealthily over such a long distance.”

  Harg grudgingly acknowledged the point and desisted from arguing further. For the next several hours, Garnuk quizzed Harg on every detail of the mission. How much time he had to reach Etares, how long the hunt lasted, where it would start from, and likely ambush sites to name a few. As they were finishing up, Vars and Lun returned to the camp, sitting gratefully beside the fire to warm up.