The four vertaga on the mountain disappeared into the cave together, vacating the wide ledge they had been standing on. Immediately, Garnuk’s gaze switched from the mountain to the city, seeking the telltale signs of movement that indicated something was about to happen. For a long moment, he saw nothing other than the silent home of the Banuk.
Then, a shadow moved between the stronghold and the sea gate, where a score of Sentinels were keeping watch.
“Get ready,” Garnuk warned the others. “We may have our first skirmish.”
He heard the other vertaga shifting, readying their weapons for combat. Each of the four carried his normal sword or axe plus a compact, ugly crossbow. The weapons were utilitarian, but extremely deadly in capable hands. From the upper levels, they would be very useful for picking off Hunon’s warriors.
Suddenly, a rush of movement caught Garnuk’s attention. Warriors were storming the sea gate, perhaps thirty in all, hurling themselves at the Sentinels recklessly. The Sentinels immediately moved into a defensive formation, forming a wall of implacable shields and bristling spear points. Many warriors were lanced on the heavy spears in the early moments of the battle, before numbers began to tell and the formation wavered. Suddenly, the line was broken in three places and a number of individual fights broke out.
After studying the fight carefully, observing attack patterns and the strategy of the enemy, Garnuk deduced that not only would the Sentinels hold, the attack was not even a real attack. The initial ferocity of the intruders had abated quite suddenly, and they were already backing off rather than pressing their numerical advantage. Garnuk made a mental note to keep an eye on the fight in case anything changed, but did not deploy reinforcements.
“General, fire to the north!”
Garnuk swung around in time to see flames beginning to flicker in a multi-story building whose function he could not recall. There were no warriors in the area loyal to Carh, so there was little chance of a skirmish holding up the retreat of the fire setters.
“Leave it,” Garnuk said shortly. “The citizens will put out the flames and the ones who did it are likely gone already.”
“Another fire to the east,” a second vertag reported urgently. “It’s closer than the first!”
Garnuk marked the burning building, then began surveying the upper levels for a route that would get them close. “Ranil, get over to the fire, see if you can pick up the trail.”
“Aye, general,” Ranil replied with a brisk salute. Then, he was off and running across the bridges slung between the upper level platforms. On the ground below, the four warriors attached to Ranil broke cover as well, following their leader towards the burning building, fanning out through the streets. They kept one eye on Ranil the whole time, for he was setting their course and showing them where the enemy was.
Satisfied that the threat had been responded to, Garnuk scanned the city again. With Ranil gone, the remaining vertaga on the platform were responsible for larger portions of the city. Two fires and a feigned attack. Not much longer before the real assault if Garnuk was any judge. The attacks had also been well spread out and obvious to this point, designed to scatter Carh’s forces and weaken the garrisons left behind.
For several minutes, no new problems arose. Then, Garnuk became aware of a clamor at the main gate – swords, axes, and shields ringing against each other in a terrible cacophony. An instant later, the vertag responsible for that part of the city belatedly announced the conflict.
“Fighting at the main gate!” he shouted.
Garnuk rolled his eyes at the warrior. “I noticed,” he muttered, annoyed. “Take over my section for a moment,” he added, moving around the platform so that he could see the battle clearly.
Roughly forty of Carh’s warriors were defending the portal. Garnuk did a quick count of the enemy and came up with more than sixty. It seemed a legitimate attack, and the fighting was fierce enough to be believable, but . . .
Garnuk thought back to his conversation with the other leaders. Hunon was not trying to run. Neither were the elders. The elders would be looking to take over ruling Banta Kodu, while Hunon was trying to avoid yet another failed mission. As far as he was concerned, he had Garnuk cornered and trapped, just as he was. So there was no reason to attack the main gate. The only thing taking the gate would accomplish was providing an escape route.
“It’s another diversion,” Garnuk muttered to himself, returning to the sector he had originally been responsible for. Where had he seen movement earlier? He had lost track of the precise location with all the other confusion and uncertainty in the city, but it had been somewhere not far from the stronghold.
“Stay alert,” he snarled to the others. Any moment now, the real attack would come. It would be somewhere away from all of the fighting to this point, somewhere unexpected, and difficult to get to.
Garnuk caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and swung around to see a half dozen warriors scurrying through a nearby alley. Garnuk frowned, knowing Carh had no troops in the area. Were these the warriors for the final attack? There weren’t many of them.
He traced their path and direction and discerned their goal. The armory. Right next to the stronghold and a prime target for mischief. It would not cripple the Banuk chief’s forces, but it would certainly hinder them in future battles. And it wouldn’t hurt the Banuk citizens themselves.
Garnuk counted the sentries posted around the armory and came up with ten. He recounted the advancing raiders and shook his head in confusion. Only six again. What was Hunon playing at? Had he been misinformed on the armory’s defenses?
The six warriors hesitated at the end of the street, then burst from between the buildings, raising short, powerful crossbows. Garnuk saw bolts streaking away from the weapons, then heard the ugly thunks of the strings releasing a moment later. Several of the guards around the armory collapsed, clutching at quarrels embedded in their flesh. Two lay ominously still.
The rest of the guards charged the intruders, who turned and ran back into the alley. Without a second thought, the guards rushed after them, bent on avenging their wounded and fallen comrades. In mere seconds, the strong garrison defending the armory had shrunk to two wounded vertaga and two corpses that would fight no more.
The Exile shook his head in disgust at the trick. It was so obvious, so blindingly simple he couldn’t believe the guards had fallen for it. But vertaga were by nature an aggressive people, and strictly honor bound to avenge those fallen in battle. Hunon was apparently taking advantage of this to the fullest extent possible. Garnuk despised him for it.
From a different alley, a new force of warriors began to emerge. There were four of them, not enough to deal with the original garrison, but enough to deal with the two survivors of the previous attack. Garnuk wondered if he should wait a moment longer, then shook his horned head.
“Two of you, with me,” he called to the others on the platform. “We’re going to capture some of Hunon’s warriors.”
The two nearest warriors hefted their crossbows and lumbered after him, the platforms shaking under their combined weight as they ran. Below, an additional eight vertaga were hurtling through the streets, closing in on the armory from two different directions.
As he ran, Garnuk watched the scene unfolding at the armory. The four warriors had reached the front door now, and were in the process of mopping up the survivors. Two warriors were checking to make certain the downed vertaga were really dead. The others attacked the wounded ruthlessly, cutting them down in seconds, their blood watering the ground. Then, the four warriors converged around the entrance to the armory for a moment, struggling with the locking mechanism. While they were doing this, Garnuk arrived at a platform almost directly above them. He hesitated for a moment, then turned and gave his orders to the crossbowmen.
“Wait here, aim for the intruders, be ready to fire if they try to get away. I’m taking command of our forces on the ground and cutting off their escape.”
&n
bsp; “Yes, general,” one murmured, saluting.
Garnuk smiled to himself, then began descending the winding steps at breakneck speed, disregarding his own safety. If one of the steps broke or failed, then so be it. But he was not going to let these foes get away from him.
The warriors, having defeated the lock on the armory door, disappeared into the building, pulling the door mostly shut behind them. Garnuk redoubled his pace, guessing at their intentions. Below, his eight warriors had reached the area and formed up in a loose semicircle around the front of the building, awaiting Garnuk’s command.
Ganuk finally reached ground level, gasping for breath. He drew his sword and prepared for battle immediately though, running towards the armory.
“You, and you!” he said, pointing to two vertaga. “Guard the entrance. The rest of you, prepare for battle and follow.”
The six warriors accompanying him growled in anticipation and drew their weapons. Garnuk checked their formation briefly, then plunged into the armory, shoving the front door back with a crash.
Inside, the armory was lit only by sparse lanterns and the light from outside. Garnuk ran a few paces into the constricted space and halted, looking around warily.
Racks of weapons stood on all sides, pikes, spears, swords, crossbows, and quivers of quarrels. Some shelves held armor and helmets, others random assortments of rejected, broken, or bent weaponry. But there was no sign of the warriors that had entered before him. The intruders had vanished into the depths of the building.
“Stay alert,” Garnuk snarled. Lifting his sword and positioning his shield so that it covered his upper body, he took a step forward. Then another.
Behind him, he sensed his warriors fanning out, weapons ready, forming a rough perimeter around the entrance. Garnuk peered into the surrounding gloom, trying to catch any sign of movement.
There was nothing.
The Exile slowly moved deeper into the armory, stepping carefully and quietly, making as little noise as possible. He was glad he had thought to have his soldiers muffle their arms and armor with rags.
From somewhere farther back in the dim building, there came a clatter of metal on metal, hastily muffled. Garnuk heard voices hissing at each other, then several sharp, rapid clicking noises. Frowning, Garnuk held up a hand, signaling for his followers to stop behind him and wait.
Muffled footsteps sounded, getting closer, and moving fast. Garnuk raised his sword and shield, flexing his left hand against the grip of his gauntlet, ready for a fight. Then, he was distracted by a foreign and unexpected smell.
Smoke.
Ahead and to the left, a new light had appeared and was growing steadily brighter, along with the smell of smoke. Garnuk hesitated, trying to decide between investigating the fire and attempting to capture the enemy warriors.
Four vertaga came racing around the corner of a shelf a few meters away, running for the entrance to the armory. They skidded to a halt and froze when they saw Garnuk and his warriors. Behind them, the light from the flames and the smell of smoke was strengthening. Garnuk even saw a few wispy gray tendrils drifting into the main aisle.
“Get them!” the Exile shouted, lunging forward.
His warriors followed, bellowing incoherent cries. The intruders hesitated, exchanging uncertain looks. Then, they turned and started to run deeper into the building.
Garnuk swore and set off in pursuit, moving as fast as he could, trying to keep his quarry in sight. At the same time, he made sure that he was going slowly enough that his own warriors could keep up. Otherwise, the Exile could very easily find himself, trapped, outnumbered, and cut off from help.
The chase continued, past the site where Garnuk guessed they had started the fire, then away from the main aisle and back among the maze of shelves, racks, and narrow passages. The vertaga ahead of Garnuk began knocking over every movable object they came to, littering the ground with weapons and armor. One of Garnuk’s soldiers tripped, swearing, and out of desperation hurled his club end over end towards the retreating raiders.
By shear chance, one of the intruders looked back just in time to catch the club on the point of his chin. With a startled grunt, the warrior collapsed, unconscious. The other three intruders kept running, slowly circling back towards the place where the fire had started.
Quite suddenly, Garnuk found himself back on the central aisle of the armory, the entrance to his left, the back wall to his right. Ahead, he could see little but smoke and the occasional wavering flame. The fire was spreading at an alarming rate, greedily devouring the old wooden shelves and any other fuel it could find in its bid for the open air beyond the confines of the armory.
Garnuk stumbled after his quarry, gaining on them, as they disappeared into the smoke-filled portion of the armory. It was an obvious attempt to elude him, and one the Exile vowed would fail miserably. He wove amongst burning shelves and smoky passages, his eyes and throat burning from the fumes, his hide burning with the heat. He rounded another corner, knowing he was steadily gaining, putting on a burst of speed, and nearly ran straight into a wall of flame.
Howling with frustration, Garnuk peered through the inferno, even as he backed away, trying to see where his pursuers had gone. Had they gone through the fire? The flames seemed too thick, the heat too great. Garnuk backed away, intending to return to the central hallway, but found that the way back was shrouded in fire as well. Cursing violently, he backed up against the nearest shelf, seeking an escape.
The shelf! Garnuk looked up and saw, through the smoke, three stooped shapes running along the top of the shelves, escaping the flames and their hunters. Garnuk leapt at high as he could, grabbed the top of the shelf with one hand, and hauled himself up. The shelf seemed to wobble left and right, but Garnuk took only a moment to recover his balance before running along the top, recklessly pursuing the arsonists.
He reached the end of the row and leapt back down to ground level. The back half of the armory was filled with smoke and flames now, the roar of the fire drowning out most other sounds. Garnuk was brought to an abrupt halt by a coughing fit as the smoke seared his lungs. When he had recovered somewhat, he looked around uncertainly.
To him, it appeared there was only one direction the intruders could have gone, back to the front of the armory. The Exile looked around for the others in his group, but saw none of them. Hopefully they had already escaped the fire. If not, there was little chance they would survive at this point.
Garnuk ran down the central hallway, making for the open door and the fresh, cool air beyond. He heard crashes behind him, shelves collapsing and armor and weapons scattering across the floor. He heard a howl of pain as well, and fervently hoped it was that of an enemy and not one of his own.
Then, he was outside again, stumbling on the uneven ground, sucking in huge lungfuls of clean, life-giving air. Around him were dozens of vertaga, not just the eight he had set out with. He heard someone shouting for buckets, trying to organize a chain to put out the fire. Someone shoved him roughly out of the way and he stumbled to the ground, bruising his knees and scraping his hands. The claws on his gauntlets shrieked across the road stones, the sound seeming to split his very skull.
“General!”
Garnuk looked up and saw several of his warriors standing to one side, out of the way. Kneeling on the ground in front of them, stripped of weapons, was a soot and grime covered warrior, scowling with hatred. The nearest of Garnuk’s warriors stepped forward and helped the Exile to his feet.
“Are you alright?” he asked, concerned. “We feared the fire had taken you too.”
Garnuk shook his head. “I will recover . . . did we lose any of ours?”
The warriors gaze hardened. “Vawin is gone . . . cut off by the fire. The others are all accounted for.”
Garnuk sighed wearily. So he had lost a soldier. Hunon would pay for that death in blood. His gaze drifted to the trussed vertag, who glared back at him defiantly.
“And what have we here?” he asked
quietly.
The vertag that had helped him up leered unpleasantly at the captive. “That, general, is our prize. We captured one of the arsonists.”
“The others?”
“Burned to death, we think.”
Garnuk shrugged. “We only really needed one, I suppose. Drag this back to the stronghold,” he commanded, smiling grimly. “It’s time to find out what the elders and Hunon are plotting.”
Chapter 29:
The Ancient One
Back at the stronghold, Garnuk found a weary and disheartened group awaiting him. Outside of Vawin, all of his warriors had survived. But many bore wounds from skirmishes or burns from the fires scattered across the city. None of the other groups had captives either.
As Garnuk and the warriors who had accompanied him to the armory dragged their prize through the entry hall and into Carh’s council chamber, the others brightened considerably. They eyed the captive hungrily, wondering what secrets he held and what could be extracted from him. Drawn by this curiosity, they all followed Garnuk into the council chamber.
Wearily, Garnuk clumped up the stone steps to the raised hearth and sat on the low wall around the fire. He did not think it proper to sit in any of the chairs while Carh was absent. “Report,” he grunted to the others as he began to remove his gauntlets.
The four who had been appointed leaders of their smaller bands stepped forward uncertainly. None of them bore wounds. “The fire we pursued was set by Hunon’s agents,” Ranil growled, shaking his head. “We saw them fleeing the site, but lost track of where they went.”
Garnuk sighed. He had expected as much, but he would have liked to have at least one more captive. That way, if one refused to talk he would have backups.
The two vertaga who had helped lead the group at the armory shrugged uncertainly. “We didn’t capture anyone else fleeing the building, general. At least we know they didn’t escape the fire and return to their master.”
The Ramshuk (Heirs of Legacy Book 3) Page 29
