“So, general,” Vars asked. “Will you tell us what has happened? It must have been something momentous indeed for you and Harg to spend so much time discussing it.” His frustrated tone was thinly veiled and all too obvious to Garnuk’s keen ears and mind.
“You may as well know,” Garnuk decided with a negligent shrug. “I am pushing north for the next few days to a couple of weeks. Alone,” he added quickly, as Vars drew breath to ask the obvious question. “You and Lun will stay here to keep watch on the West Bank and alert them to any approaching vertaga forces, as well as spying on their base.”
“Who’s in charge?” Vars asked belligerently.
“Lun,” Garnuk told him. It gave him a small amount of satisfaction to see the other vertag’s dissatisfied scowl. But only a little.
That was another important matter he would have to take care of before leaving, Garnuk thought, filing it away for later pondering.
“Harg,” he continued, “You will return to Dun Carryl and continue spying on the stronghold with Rukh. You have done well, but you are needed more there than here.”
“Yes, general,” Harg said obediently, dipping his horned head. “Shall I have Tarq and the others continue to send their messages here?”
“Yes, deliver them to Lun for the time being. Lun, I am counting on your discretion. Do not act out of instinct or haste unless the matter is of the utmost importance and is time-sensitive in nature. Otherwise, it can wait until I return. Is that absolutely clear?”
“Of course,” Lun grunted.
“Good.” Garnuk looked around at his three companions. “The reason I am going north is to assassinate the Sthan king during a hunt.”
Harg smiled grimly. Lun blinked in surprise, while Vars remained impassive. Garnuk thought that the other vertag might be struggling with the emotions warring within though, for the corners of his mouth were twitching up and down at a fractious rate. Perhaps, Garnuk thought privately, he could not decide whether to be pleased the general was finally fighting the Sthan in a meaningful way or to be annoyed at being left behind.
“You are going to the Sthan capital then?” Lun asked, glancing at the map spread on the ground between Harg and Garnuk.
Garnuk shrugged. “Near enough to it.”
“Over land or by the sea?”
The Exile frowned into the flames. Truthfully, he had not considered that option. But now that he looked at the map again, traveling across the inland sea would be much faster. The lands to the west of the great inland sea were well-populated between the West Bank and Etares, and where they weren’t there was the Midwood, as wild a tangle of trees and other vegetation as could be found in the world.
“It would be harder to hide on an open body of water,” he said finally. “Besides, I could not handle a boat by myself.”
“Hire a crew,” Lun suggested. “Human mercenaries, maybe, or criminals.”
Garnuk shook his head. “No, I will go over land. I have enough time to do that, don’t I Harg?”
The vertag shrugged, shifting his weight so that small stones crunched underneath him. “You should, barring unforeseen delays. Etares is just over a week away, but you have just under two weeks to get there and decide on a course of action.”
“Plenty of time,” Garnuk replied confidently. “Although . . . I did have an idea that might use up some of that time.”
The others waited expectantly, but Garnuk did not continue, instead gazing out into the night. “Well?” Lun finally asked.
Garnuk shook his head distractedly. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Got distracted for a moment. The thing is, if it is obvious that a vertag killed the king, then the Sthan will rush south with all speed and wipe out what is left of our people to avenge their murdered ruler.”
“Rulers,” Vars corrected. “The prince and the king will both be involved in the hunt, correct?”
“Yes,” Garnuk agreed. “But only the king dies. The prince is a boy, untried, untrained if the information from our informants is accurate. He would ascend to the throne with his father’s death and be responsible for leading the army.”
“Which is no small task,” Lun observed. “Particularly for the uninitiated.”
“Exactly,” Garnuk agreed. “Whereas if he were to die as well, a military leader would likely ascend to the throne temporarily, since it would be a crisis situation. The Sthan armies would race south-”
“Then proceed to wipe us out,” Vars finished for him. “Yes, I get the idea. Continue.”
Garnuk frowned slightly at the order, then decided to let it pass. “So, I thought it might be rather less suspicious if the king were killed by a wild animal.”
“Such as?” Harg asked.
“Not a varloug pran!” Lun said quickly. “Surely you don’t expect to tame one of those in a few days!”
“The thought did occur to me,” Garnuk admitted. “But there are many flaws with that plan. Finding one, capturing it, subduing it. Mastering it. That task took the butcher long enough that the Usurper grew impatient with his efforts. And while we don’t know precisely how long a time frame that was, I’d wager it was more than two weeks.”
“Most likely,” Harg agreed. “So, you have an alternative?”
“Yes,” Garnuk said, leaning forward. “I was thinking a bear. Powerful. Large claws. Could easily kill three men if the need arose.”
“Three men?” Lun asked dubiously.
“Three hornless Sthan,” Vars corrected.
“And it’s an angry bear,” Garnuk added. “Disturbed during its winter sleep.”
Lun nodded, accepting this as a plausible explanation. “But how to inflict such wounds?” he wondered. “Not with your sword or our axes.”
“No,” Garnuk agreed. “And my claws are long and sharp but not enough to leave marks like a bear. No, this will require a new type of weapon.”
The Exile scooped up a branch from the firewood pile and began sketching in the dirt next to the fire, where the light of the flames allowed them all to see the drawing. The other three vertaga leaned in curiously, wondering what this new and dangerous weapon might be.
But by the time Garnuk had completed the drawing and sat back to assess his work, they still could not discern what exactly the weapon was or how it worked. Lun and Harg were scratching at their horns, but Vars snorted in disgust and looked away.
“What is it?” Harg finally asked.
Garnuk smiled to himself. “This I would bind to my arms so that it protrudes past my hand,” he said, indicating a slightly curved section of the weapon. “And here,” he continued, tapping four long, narrow blades, “Are four long, serrated blades to rip and tear the way a bear does.”
“One of these for each hand I assume?” Lun murmured, eying the sketch shrewdly.
“Yes. I would like to design them to be retractable, so that I do not risk cutting myself, but I may not have time for that.”
“It is an intriguing design,” Harg admitted. “But will it work?”
“That I don’t know,” Garnuk admitted. “I can definitely make it though. All I need is the metal and a forge.”
“Ah,” Vars said, “We seem to be rather short on those at the moment. Nice thought though.”
Garnuk glared at him. “I would have to stop in a village along the way and break into a smithy,” he explained. “I am not worried about what will happen if I am discovered. If any villager tries to kill me it will be his fatal mistake. And so long as I choose an isolated and small village, word will likely not reach any major Sthan settlements.”
Harg shrugged. “You know best, general. I see no problem with your plan.”
“Nor I,” Lun agreed, shooting Vars a look. The other vertag crossed his arms and looked away.
“Then I leave at first light,” Garnuk announced. “Harg, get some sleep. You too, Vars. Lun and I will take the first watch, since I have some additional instructions for him.”
Garnuk got to his feet and motioned for Lun to accompany him. “
Let’s check around the base of the hill first,” he said loudly. “Can’t be too careful, and none of us has been watching for a little while now.”
The two vertaga picked their way across the hill in the darkness, then descended through the narrow gully. Behind them, Harg and Vars stretched out to sleep, lying as close to the fire as they could. At the bottom of the hill, Garnuk turned to the right, leading Lun west.
“Are you up to the task I have set you?” Garnuk asked as they walked. “I know I did not ask if you felt you were ready to lead before I put you in charge.”
“I can manage,” Lun assured him. “It will just be me and Vars after all. I will see to it that your faith in my abilities is not misplaced, general.”
“Good,” Garnuk murmured. “Now, I mentioned that I have special instructions for you. This is of the utmost importance, and if it is handled badly it could have dire consequences for all sides in this war. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Then listen now.” Garnuk looked around and lowered his voice. “I have noticed that Vars seems a bit . . . disillusioned recently.”
“He has been more difficult and obstinate than usual,” Lun allowed, shrugging. “But many vertaga warriors are headstrong and stubborn.”
“But not in the face of direct orders,” Garnuk countered worriedly.
Lun nodded slowly. “Yes, I will admit that I am troubled by that as well. But Vars is a solid fighter, and has been useful to the cause.”
“And knows a great deal about it,” Garnuk added. “More than many others within Shadow Squadron.”
Lun stopped and turned to Garnuk, tilting his head. “What are you getting at, general? You said that you have instructions for me, but we are talking about Vars.”
“The problem I am struggling with is that Vars knows a great deal,” Garnuk explained, “He also appears to be approaching a point where he may be disillusioned enough to turn.”
“Turn?”
“Yes. To which side I do not know. Likely not to the Sthan, but maybe to Dun Carryl. To the Usurper.”
“He wouldn’t. He is a loyal vertag.”
“And there you have it,” Garnuk said, chuckling to himself. “A loyal vertag. Not loyal to Shadow Squadron but to his entire race. And he is beginning to think my agenda does not align with what is best for all vertaga. So I expect him to turn. And that must be prevented.”
Lun frowned. “Prevented how, general?”
Garnuk smiled. “Now we come to your special instructions, Lun. I want you to take care of this problem while I am gone. Vars will not expect it, he will trust you.”
“You want me to kill him in his sleep? You want me to betray him?” Lun bristled angrily.
“No, no,” Garnuk reassured him. “Not quite so treacherous or dramatic as that. Just contrive to put him in harm’s way, maybe near the West Bank, and let the Sthan take care of the rest. That will also help to warn them of vertaga in the area and should ensure the Usurper does not get too far above himself for a while yet.”
“Vars is no fool,” Lun muttered. “He will not fall for it.”
“You are smarter than he is,” Garnuk replied stubbornly. “It is for the cause, Lun. For the long-term survival of our entire race.”
“For Shadow Squadron,” Lun added, his mouth twisting in a wry smile. “I wish that it had not come to this, general. Vars is my friend. But you are right. He has become a risk, and in our delicate business risks must be eliminated.”
“Exactly,” Garnuk agreed, breathing a sigh of relief. “I knew I could trust you with this, Lun. You will do what needs to be done.”
Chapter 20:
Metal and Flame
When Garnuk left the following morning, Vars and Lun were not yet awake. Harg alone was there to see him off, warming strips of dried meat over the fire for his breakfast.
“You go now?” he asked when he noticed Garnuk stirring.
The Exile nodded. “No time to lose.”
“Yes,” Harg mused. “There is never time to lose, really.”
Garnuk smiled to himself. “Especially for us. A hundred vertaga, against the whole world.”
“Fighting for our race, whether they realize it or not,” Harg added. He saluted Garnuk and stood to embrace him. “Good luck general. I wish that I were going with you, but I know my place is elsewhere. We have not the forces to spare.”
“You’re right, and we need to keep watching the Usurper,” Garnuk murmured. “Especially if he is defeated in the near future. His reaction to the outcome of these early battles will give us insight into what he believes his strength is, how he thinks his forces match up.” He glanced at Harg again. “The Usurper does not take defeat well.”
Harg smiled grimly, chuckling to himself. “He may have to get used to it. May the spirits go with you, general.”
“And with you,” Garnuk replied, shouldering his pack. “Goodbye, Harg. With any luck, I will be on my way back to Banta Kodu in a few weeks’ time.”
“With another kill under your belt,” Harg added.
“Perhaps more,” Garnuk murmured, half to himself. He glanced at Vars and Lun, wondering if this would be the last time he saw the former. He hoped so. The vertag had become difficult to manage, and Garnuk was tired of trying to sway him back to the cause. Better to cut him out, permanently, and take care of the problem.
But that was Lun’s assignment, not his. With one last wary glance over his shoulder, Garnuk began moving across the hill to the hidden gully.
Once he was down on the flatlands and moving north, the Exile increased his pace, running smoothly and evenly, the ground shaking with every step. Snow plumed in his wake, the fine powder drifting slowly back down to the ground after he had passed. The cold air stung his throat and lungs, but Garnuk pressed on. He was a vertag, not some hornless Sthan. He could brave the elements and defeat them. He had lived his whole life in the Fells, which some said had the cruelest winter season in all the world every year.
The land was flat, featureless. An unspoiled, even plain of white, stretching to every horizon save the south. In that direction, the rolling hills bordering the Basin were still visible, though they were growing smaller by the minute.
As he ran, Garnuk kept an eye out for other travelers. He would have plenty of warning if there were anyone, since he could see for miles in every direction, but it never hurt to be careful. He also kept checking his course against the path of the sun as it moved from east to west. Every hour or so, he would rest for a few minutes and drink from his water skin, maybe even devour a few strips of meat from his supplies. Then, he would be off again, running through the heart of enemy territory.
Two days passed. Garnuk did not encounter any villages during that time, but he knew there would be more as he moved closer to civilization. The city of Ardia to the east was not so distant, and the settlements at the Mizzran heights were even closer. When he drew near to the Midwood, along the Furnier Sea, then he would begin to encounter humans once again.
The further he ran, the more Garnuk felt the burden of leading Shadow Squadron lift. The daily operation and evaluation of the movements of the Usurper’s forces was no longer his responsibility. There was nothing he could do, after all, no way that any of his subordinates could reach him. They would have to fend for themselves, and figure out what needed to be done. It was rather like going back, Garnuk thought to himself, like going back to those ten years when he had hunted alone. The Exile had not realized he was missing those times until now, but miss them he did. The days of no responsibilities, of traveling the Fells, fighting and hunting. Surviving, and eluding the Black Hawks.
Garnuk stumbled slightly, then cursed and began running all the harder. The Black Hawks. Nothing had been heard from them in a long time. They were a stealthy group by trade but for them to be out of the picture so long . . . upon his return he must consult with Tarq and Koah and see what was known about the hunters, where they had last been seen, what they were up to. Had they b
een dispatched into the Sthan Kingdom even as Garnuk had sent out the members of Shadow Squadron? Garnuk hoped not. He had not the time for a pitched battle with the Usurper’s pets.
“Still,” he muttered to himself. “A break from all of this running would be nice.” He chuckled quietly, then glanced up at the sun, which was sinking in the west. Another hour gone, and soon another day. He would run until the distant fiery orb brushed the horizon, and then stop for the night. The Exile turned back to face the north, intending to increase his pace, but instead slowed to a halt, frowning.
The horizon had changed. It was not the indefinite white plane it had been moments ago, but was instead smudged with gray and brown and green in irregular splotches that seemed to shift and waver indistinctly. Wondering what it could be, Garnuk took out the map he had copied from Harg’s and unfolded it, resting it on the palm of his left hand so that he could study it properly.
First, he needed a decent guess as to his current position. Garnuk looked around at the nearly featureless landscape and grimaced. No landmarks of any sort. So, instead, be placed one claw on the point where he estimated he had left Lun, Vars, and Harg, and moved slowly upwards, calculating in his head. He had been running nearly two full days now and that would put him –
Garnuk smiled to himself and folded the map away. The Midwood. At last. With renewed vigor the vertag began to run again, making for the shelter of the dense forest, hoping it would keep out the worst of the wind and snow.
But as he continued running, Garnuk realized there was something between him and the Midwood. That something was the same irregular collection of colors as the forest and this had fooled him from a distance, but now Garnuk could see it far more clearly.
A village. Small, but neat, a couple dozen modest wood-and-thatch buildings arranged along a central road, gray wood smoke wafting from chimneys. Not a town or even a crossroads really. Just a larger collection of dwellings, maybe a place that supplied goods to the surrounding farms and provided a market for their crops. Garnuk was grateful for the fact that the sun was setting, for it would make his approach that much easier.
The Ramshuk (Heirs of Legacy Book 3) Page 20
