The Ramshuk (Heirs of Legacy Book 3)

by Paul Lauritsen

  “Not that I saw,” Lun replied, shrugging. “But as I said, I watched from a distance.”

  “Hmm,” Garnuk murmured. “I wish we knew. If Arasnak has to be at every battle to act as the alpha of the pack, then we could use it to our advantage.”

  “I’m not sure I understand,” Lun said, frowning.

  “If the varloug prans can only be controlled by an alpha, in this case Arasnak, then they can only be effective at one location at a time. And if we knew for a fact that the varloug pran riders were elsewhere, we could raid without fear of having to face those beasts.”

  “Raid where?”

  Garnuk shrugged. “Supply lines, scout camps. Messenger stations. Anything to disrupt communications or deployment of soldiers. Mobility is key in an engagement like this. When that mobility is affected, the response to attacks is slower, and it takes longer to take advantage of potential openings.”

  “Which would eventually help the war end in a stalemate,” Lun said, nodding. “I see.”

  “Yes. So, there were twenty varloug prans. How were they used?”

  “To leap the walls,” Lun said grimly. “It was not a ploy that I foresaw. The riders urged them right up to the walls then vaulted over from the backs of the beasts.”

  “Interesting,” Garnuk said, picturing the scene. “And rather ingenious. But the varloug prans took little part in the fighting afterwards?”

  “Yes, though I don’t think they all survived. At least one was shot that I saw,” Lun explained. “After that, it was a melee. At one point it looked like the fortress was overrun, but eventually the Sthan pulled through. Their losses were most severe though. Devastating, really.”

  “Numbers, Lun, give me numbers,” Garnuk growled. “Even estimates.”

  “Guessing about a hundred men engaged,” the other vertag said quickly. “Of those hundred, perhaps two score survived. Maybe less.”

  “And the attackers?”

  “Mostly wiped out. A few retreated with the varloug pran pack, running for the Fells.”

  “Then the Ramshuk’s forces are still contained in the South?” Garnuk asked, just to be sure.

  “For now, yes, unless they have eliminated other strongholds of men.”

  “And there have been no messages from our friends at Banta Kodu to that effect?”

  “None concerning attacks, no,” Lun replied. “There have been a few updates about major troop movements. More warriors are being sent to the city by the coast, the one men call Ishkabur. Apparently the siege is going badly.”

  “The element of surprise was wasted,” Garnuk growled. “The Ramshuk missed his opportunity there. Ishkabur should have been his very first target, before any raids were launched. By the time he finally got to the city, they were on their guard.”

  “And so is the rest of the south,” Lun agreed. “At the moment, it seems both sides are content to wait. But this is something the Ramshuk cannot afford. The only reinforcements on the way are Sthan, even though you have likely delayed them for some time.”

  “Without a king, it will be difficult to organize the army,” Garnuk mused. “With a boy king, it will be even harder. He will not have the respect of his elders. If we are lucky, they will pull at him and quarrel and delay things even further.”

  Lun nodded solemnly. “Much is still to be decided, but the scales are tilting, general. Towards us and our cause. What is our next move?”

  Garnuk smiled thinly. “We return to Banta Kodu, and rejoin Shadow Squadron. I have been away for far too long already, though the opportunity to kill the Sthan king was one that could not be passed by.”

  Lun hesitated, on the verge of saying something, then shook his head and looked away.

  “What is it?” Garnuk asked shortly.

  The other vertag shifted uncomfortably. “It is not my place general, but I have an idea that might make future situations like this simpler.”

  Garnuk straightened, interested. “I am always open to ideas, Lun. Tell me, what is on your mind?”

  “Shadow Squadron is full of elite trackers and warriors,” Lun began, leaning forward. “Some of the finest vertaga operatives you could want, outside of a select few in the Usurper’s employ.”

  “Like the Black Hawks,” Garnuk murmured.

  “Exactly,” Lun agreed. “Right now, many of your forces are busy spying and scouting. But every time there is an operation or a mission that needs doing, you have to dash off yourself and run to the ends of the world to see it done. You, our most valuable strategist and planner. Our leader.”

  “What is your point?”

  “You could train a band of operatives to do these missions for you,” Lun explained. “That way, you could stay at Banta Kodu and manipulate the overall war, while still being able to take advantage of opportunities.”

  “Are you saying that my skills in the field can be replaced, Lun?” Garnuk asked flatly.

  Lun shook his head quickly. “Not at all general. It is just that I believe you can train others to do nearly as well on missions, but the rigors of analyzing, interpreting, and planning are not something the rest of us can pick up so easily. That is something only you can do. And, therefore, when you are away, Shadow Squadron is not at its strongest. Vulnerable, even, if something were to go wrong.”

  Garnuk stared off into space, looking past Lun and into the night. The problem his subordinate had raised was one he had struggled with many times himself. Every time there was a mission, in fact. But there was no one he trusted to keep their head in a delicate mission and make the right split-second decisions in the heat of battle.

  The Exile’s thoughts broke off and he glanced back at Lun, then scratched his horns. Now that he thought about it, it was exactly what he had entrusted Lun with when he left to hunt the king. He had given him a mission, a delicate one, and he had succeeded. Vars’ death had not been a particularly dangerous or complex mission, but failure would have had enormous consequences.

  And Lun had not failed.

  “I will need to think more on this,” Garnuk said at length. “It does strike me that should I elect to form such a group, you would be an excellent leader for them, Lun.”

  The other vertag bowed his head. “I am honored that you think so, general.”

  “We will speak of this no more for the moment,” Garnuk continued, “But upon our return to Banta Kodu, I will give you my decision on your idea. It has merit, I grant you, but there are certain disadvantages to such a force. Such as me being stuck in hiding instead of out fighting.”

  Lun chuckled, shaking his horned head. “Ah, general. Sometimes, we do not always get to do what we want. A great leader makes the right decisions for the mission, for his followers, even if it means he is doing something unpleasant or less than exciting.”

  Garnuk nodded slowly. “Yes, that is exactly what a great leader should do,” he agreed. “Get some rest, Lun. I will take the first watch.”

  The other vertag nodded, then stretched out on the cold hard ground, resting his head on his arms. In moments, he was asleep. Garnuk meanwhile rose and crossed to the observation point they had used last time he visited this hilltop and settled in for a long cold night.

  When morning came the two vertaga packed up their supplies and began the long journey home. A fresh layer of snow had settled over the Basin, turning it into a featureless white landscape. The only anomalies in the pristine surface were the footprints Garnuk and Lun left behind as they ran.

  It was four days before they sighted the Fells on the southern horizon, another half day before they were safely surrounded by the massive peaks. The deeper into the mountains they traveled, the more sheltered Garnuk felt and the more relaxed he became. The mountains he knew and understood: how to hide, survive, fight, and elude pursuers. Out in the flatter lands of the Sthan kingdom, he had felt vulnerable and obvious, almost as though there were a target on his back.

  The Fells were not completely safe though. Twice Garnuk and Lun sighted groups of vertag
a warriors marching in formation through a pass or across a valley. They also had to circumnavigate a few isolated vertaga villages, careful not to alert the inhabitants to their presence. They did not go anywhere near Dun Carryl or Ishkabur, staying well away from those more populated areas.

  Two days into the Fells, they crossed the road that ran from the Basin to Ishkabur. As they descended towards the narrow track, all of Garnuk’s senses were on high alert. The last time he had come this way, he had been ambushed by a patrol of the Ramshuk’s warriors. Every slight movement he sighted and every small noise he heard caused him to jump. Lun was not even half as affected by the crossing as Garnuk was, moving confidently and stealthily through the mountains.

  Finally, a full ten days after they had left their camp near the West Bank, Garnuk began to recognize landmarks from the area that surrounded Banta Kodu. He led the way confidently, knowing precisely the path he needed to take in order to reach the ancient, hidden city.

  But when they drew near to the place where Garnuk expected the wall to be, he could not find it or the gate. It was only after hours of meandering about pointlessly in the forest that they encountered a group of Banuk Sentinels. The Sentinels knew who Garnuk was immediately, and one of them acted as their guide back to the city gates. By then, night had fallen entirely and the moon was rising overhead. By its wan, silver light, Garnuk and Lun slipped back into Banta Kodu.

  Inside, the city was dark as well. Few vertaga were moving about, and most of these were warriors headed to the walls to begin their night watches. Other than that, the city was quiet and still, peaceful even. Garnuk allowed himself to relax, walking calmly down the main road of Banta Kodu, towards the Banuk stronghold and the meeting place of Shadow Squadron.

  The guards at the stronghold doors let Garnuk and Lun through after only a moment’s whispered conversation. Inside, the fortress was just as still as the city, although it was better lit. Lanterns hung at regular intervals and not even the lofty ceilings were shrouded in shadows.

  Garnuk and Lun climbed upwards together until they reached the deserted levels, then turned down the rarely used corridor that led home. They navigated the ancient Banuk traps easily, and wearily marched down the entrance corridor, emerging into the central command center.

  Only two vertaga were there, standing watch. Or, more accurately, sitting watch. They were sprawled in chairs at one of the desks, weapons leaning against the chairs, ready for use at a moment’s notice. They looked up as Garnuk and Lun entered, then scrambled to rise and salute when they recognized the general of Shadow Squadron.

  “Welcome home, general!” one said quickly. “We did not expect you back. Is all well?”

  “For now,” Garnuk said shortly. “I trust everything is fine here?”

  “Yes, yes,” the other guard replied quickly. “Perfectly fine. The others are asleep at the moment now though. Should I rouse the captains so that you can speak with them?”

  “That can wait until our morning briefing,” Garnuk said, shaking his head. “For now, Lun and I will rest as well. The journey has been long.” As he spoke, Garnuk realized that the journey had indeed been long. He had originally set out for a trip of a few days, maybe a week. Yet here he was, nearly a month later, finally returning to his base of operations.

  “Very well, general,” the first guard replied. “It is good to have you back.”

  Garnuk nodded wearily and led the way to the back corridor. There, he turned left, towards his private quarters, while Lun turned to the right. They did not speak to each other, each already focused on the comfortable bed and good night’s sleep that awaited them. A sleep not interrupted by watches or the potential for an ambush or other disaster.

  His quarters were just as he had left them. There was little that he had left behind when he originally went to hunt the butcher. The Exile set his pack down and removed his weapons, placing them close by the bed in case he needed to arm himself quickly during the night. As he did, he shivered slightly, noticing a chill in the still air of the room. Muttering darkly to himself, Garnuk stumped over to the fireplace and its attendant basket of firewood. In moments, he had a small, warm blaze going, yellow and orange light dancing on the walls and casting strange shadows every time he moved.

  Once the room had warmed up a little, Garnuk retreated to his bed, intending to lose himself in sleep. But as he lay down, he remembered that there was one more thing to deal with before he rested: Lun’s idea.

  Garnuk rose from the bed and instead sat in one of the chairs close to the fire, extending his hands towards the flames. He stared into the fireplace for several moments, thinking, wondering. Weighing the odds, the potential benefits, the opportunity for disaster.

  Lun had been right when he said Shadow Squadron was full of capable operatives. All of these vertaga had spent years evading the Ramshuk’s hunters, and survived to tell the tale. This was not an accomplishment to be taken lightly.

  But what many of them lacked was the ability to look at a problem, break it down, and find the right solution. Lun was an exception to this rule, smart and capable. But the others?

  If he were to go through with this, it would mean an end to his days as an operative, Garnuk realized. It was this fact which made him hesitate the most. In the past few weeks, he had reclaimed some of the adventure and excitement he’d had in the old days. If he formed an elite squad under Lun’s command, Garnuk would no longer have those opportunities.

  But this fight was not about being a hero, or doing what he wanted, Garnuk reminded himself sternly. It was for a much higher purpose. For all vertaga. For his family, above all. If the best way to save them was to step away from the adventure he loved, then so be it. Lun would lead his elite force. And Garnuk would go back to what he had always done best.

  Outwitting and destroying the opposition.

  Chapter 24:

  A Victor’s Tale

  When morning came, Garnuk was already in the command center, poring over the annotated maps and stacks of reports spread out across the surface of the round table. Dozens of battles, troop movements, and curious sightings had been marked on each map, making it difficult to sort out the mess or perceive exactly what was going on. Garnuk was in the process of deciphering some notes on the events around Ishkabur when his two captains finally arrived at the command center, yawning and stretching. They stopped short when they saw Garnuk sitting there, apparently waiting on them.

  “General!” Tarq cried, immediately wide awake. “I had not heard you were back!”

  “Well, I am,” Garnuk replied distractedly, bending lower over the maps. “It seems there is a good deal to catch up on. You’ve been busy.”

  “Shadow Squadron has been busy,” Koah replied. “But we have yet to make much of an impact on this war.”

  Garnuk shrugged. “Maybe not. But we are ready now to begin influencing events frequently. We have already altered the course of this war in two major ways.”

  “Oh?” Tarq asked eagerly. “Does this mean you were successful in your mission to – ?”

  “Quiet,” Garnuk snapped. “I don’t want everyone to know about it just yet.” He looked around the command center at the guards standing watch, at the other vertaga sorting reports by date and location and noting down items of interest. “Let’s retreat to my quarters for this morning’s briefing,” he decided, lowering his voice and standing. There were, he reflected, all too many ears present to overhear this discussion.

  Tarq and Koah shrugged and followed their leader back to his room. Inside, Garnuk stirred up the embers of the previous night’s fire and added more wood. Then, he gestured for the others to seat themselves while he took the chair closest to the fire.

  “Now,” Garnuk said, organizing his thoughts. “In the time since I left, I have observed much and done more. You received my report on the varloug prans?”

  “Yes,” Koah said, shuddering. “I still have a hard time believing it though.”

  “Believe it,” Garnuk
countered with a short slashing motion. “They are everything I feared they could be in battle and more. They were used in an attack on the West Bank which nearly succeeded. The riders vaulted from the beasts’ backs and onto the walls of the fortress.”

  Tarq rumbled appreciatively. “That is impressive,” he allowed. “I have to admit, I did not believe so many riders could learn to tame those demons, but if there was one who would succeed in that endeavor it would have been the Butcher. He is a creature of rare strength and ferocity. The varloug prans would see their kin in him.”

  “Yes,” Garnuk agreed, scowling. “It seems he has become their commander. But others have learned to ride as well, at least a score of them were at the West Bank. Our warriors must be warned about this development. It will make staying hidden much more difficult.”

  “Agreed,” Koah replied. “What of your other mission? Was it successful?”

  Garnuk sat back in his chair, looking from one captain to the other. “The Sthan king is no more.”

  Tarq smiled broadly and growled in triumph. Koah remained impassive though. “And the prince?” he pressed.

  Garnuk shook his head. “The prince lives.”

  The Banuk Sentinel fixed Garnuk with a piercing look. “How?”

  “The better question, captain, is why,” Garnuk corrected. “I made no attempt to destroy the prince. If both of the royals had been wiped out, a military leader would have quickly assumed command. With an untried boy as king, events will move much more slowly.”

  “Even though a vertag crossed half of their kingdom and slaughtered their ruler?”

  Garnuk shook his horned head. “The king died tragically in a hunting accident, savaged by an angry bear.” He rose and crossed to where his weapons lay by the bed, scooping up the gauntlets he had fashioned. He tossed one to each captain, chuckling at their surprised reactions. “These are what I used to slaughter the king. Good, yes?”