He tumbled through the resulting gap, gashing himself on the splintered frame and scraping his knees and elbows on the stones of the road. The cool outside air soothed the angry burns on his exposed flesh and gradually began to purge the toxins from his lungs. He shakily got to all fours and began crawling away from the burning building, knowing he had to get to safety.
Behind him, a sliding, screeching noise rent the air. The hide on the back of his neck prickled and burned and Garnuk looked back in time to see the roof tilt sideways, then split into pieces and collapse in on the rest of the building. The walls collapsed as well, some falling outward. The fire began to spread to other buildings, the flames hungrily devouring whatever they came in contact with.
Shouts carried on the air now, trying to be heard over the roaring flames. Someone grabbed Garnuk under his arms and dragged him further from the building, while others ran forward with buckets, trying to put the blaze out. Garnuk groped for his sword, forgetting that it had been destroyed, and snarled with pain as his rescuer inadvertently aggravated several of his many wounds.
“Get a healer!” someone was shouting now. “A healer! Quickly!”
“Back to the stronghold,” another voice shouted.
“Rouse the city,” yelled a third, “The fire must be stopped here!”
More hands grabbed Garnuk, incautiously placed hands that latched onto his burned, tender flesh. He snapped and snarled, fighting the vertaga who restrained him, until at last someone knocked him over the head and the world faded to black.
When Garnuk woke, the pain returned. Not the shooting, throbbing, searing pain that he had experienced during his battle with Hunon and in the fire afterwards, but a persistent and debilitating ache that permeated every fiber of his being, so that every nerve he had cried out with a single, pained voice. The Exile snarled under his breath, and a fresh wave of pain turned the snarl to a whimper.
Almost immediately, a face appeared in his field of view. Tarq, he remembered. He was safe, then. But where was he? In his headquarters? In the Banuk stronghold? Or somewhere else?
“General,” Tarq murmured. “How are you feeling?”
Garnuk coughed weakly, and tried to shake his head. The best he could manage was a vague tilting motion. “I’ve . . . been better,” he managed finally.
Tarq nodded understandingly. “I’d imagine so. Most of your body is burned, and the gashes you suffered during your battle were terrible. Some of them would have killed a normal warrior all on their own.”
“But not me,” Garnuk growled, wincing.
“But not you,” Tarq agreed wryly. “What happened in the tavern, general? How did you get caught in the flames and the collapse?”
“Hunon,” Garnuk growled, trying to sit up. Pain flared in his side and he fell back, moaning, cursing his injuries furiously, his other senses temporarily blotted out.
“We’ve been looking for him,” Tarq was saying when Garnuk finally rejoined the conversation. “Him and the elders. Nobody seems to know what’s happened. Carh has been nearly frantic with worry, sending raiding parties to every hidden place in the city. They haven’t turned anything up yet though, except a few clusters of rebels. We’ve been waiting for you to come around, hoping you could tell us what happened to him after – ”
“Dead,” Garnuk gasped. “Hunon is dead, Tarq. I killed him just before the building collapsed.”
“You were fighting him in there? General, you nearly killed yourself!”
“It was that or let him escape,” Garnuk moaned. “And I had no desire to chase him down again.”
“Understandable. Do you remember anything else – ”
“He killed the elders,” Garnuk remembered. “All five of them. Him and two of the Black Hawks. Those two may have escaped, they were fighting Danur’s warriors. Has he said anything about their fate?”
“Danur is dead, general,” Tarq said, bowing his head. “He was slain in the confusion. One of his warriors was able to tell us the two Black Hawks were slain as well. None of Hunon’s forces escaped the tavern.”
“That’s good,” Garnuk said. “Pity about Danur. He was a fine warrior and a good leader. He’ll be missed.”
“Is that all he was?”
Garnuk was surprised to hear the hard, bitter note in Tarq’s voice. “Of course not. He was a friend as well. I remember the first time I met him, he shared his perspective on life with me . . . at that overlook on the mountain. It was peaceful, serene. A perfect place to sit and think.”
Tarq nodded solemnly, his craggy features softening. “Aye, he will be missed,” he agreed.
They fell silent for several moments, each with his own thoughts.
“Go to Carh,” Garnuk said finally. “Tell him about Hunon, and help him pick up the pieces.”
“What about you?”
“I need a healer now, not a warrior,” Garnuk replied, growling in pain. “Though I do not mind your company, my old friend.”
Tarq nodded and rose, then moved out of Garnuk’s sight, towards a door he could not see. “I’ll be back soon,” he promised. “But I’ll send that healer ahead. Rest easy, general. We need you at full strength.”
“Yes,” Garnuk murmured, “There is a war to be won after all.”
Tarq left him alone then, and Garnuk drifted in and out of sleep. The healer came and mixed soothing poultices for his injuries, changing the numerous bandages and forcing Garnuk to drink potion after potion. Tarq returned halfway through the healer’s visit, and sat watching Garnuk from a chair a couple meters from his bed side.
Throughout the rest of the day, Garnuk came to know pain in a way he never had before. It was a constant in his life, dictating how he moved, when he slept, how much he talked to Tarq, even kept him from breathing properly at times. There was no predicting it, and no escaping it. At times, Garnuk wondered if he would ever recover, or if he would slowly fade away until the pain consumed the last of his vitality.
For the first week, the end outcome was uncertain. The healer would commit to nothing, promise nothing, other than that he would do his best to mend what Hunon and the burning tavern had broken. That was all Garnuk could ask, so he waited and rested, listened to Tarq whenever the captain brought news, and even commented on it occasionally or made suggestions. But for the most part, he lay still and conserved his strength.
It was not until the middle of the second week that Garnuk felt any better. Thereafter, he gained strength day by day as more and more of his wounds healed. The healer became more optimistic, saying he could believe Garnuk might make a full recovery. The Exile was allowed to sit up for extended periods of time, and the pain no longer ruled him. It was still there, reminding him of its presence frequently, striking when he did not expect it, and in general making a nuisance of itself, but Garnuk could bear it now. He would survive.
At the end of the second week, Garnuk was finally able to stand on his own and move about the room with only minor discomfort. He was not in the headquarters of Shadow Squadron, but in a room which was part of Carh’s quarters. Garnuk had asked why on several occasions, but Tarq had merely shrugged and said it was better this way, which did nothing to allay Garnuk’s growing concerns.
A few days later, Carh came to see Garnuk for the first time. The Exile was sitting in a chair by the fireplace, not too close to the flames, but close enough to stave off the chill of winter. His arms and legs had healed from his burns, but a few gashes from the battles he had fought were still closing up slowly. Another few days and he would be strong enough to resume command of his forces.
With Carh was Teszalk, the Ancient One. The sole remaining Banuk elder. Tarq quickly offered the old vertag a chair, close by the fire. The Ancient One sank into it gratefully, seeming even weaker than when last Garnuk had spoken to him.
“It is good to see both of you again,” Garnuk said when everyone has settled. “I’m sorry I have not been able to assist you with the hunt, Chief Carh.”
The Banuk chieftai
n shrugged. “You did enough, Garnuk. Killing Hunon and freeing those among my people who had been misled was a good deed.”
Garnuk nodded. “He did not die easy, and I am not yet recovered from our fight, but it had to be done. I could not let him escape again.”
“No,” Carh agreed. “You could not. Especially since we lost a tenth of the city in the fire he started.”
Garnuk sat back, shocked. Tarq had said nothing of this. “A tenth of the city?” he whispered.
“Aye,” Teszalk confirmed in a wavering voice. “And many of our people injured.”
“I had no idea,” Garnuk murmured guiltily. “I’m sorry.”
“It is not your fault,” Teszalk said, waving a frail hand as though to absolve Garnuk of all guilt with the simple, small gesture. “Hunon had to be stopped. We do not hold you accountable for the damage.”
Even in his debilitated state, Garnuk saw through the words to the truth behind them. “You mean there are some who do blame me for the fights and for the fire?”
“And for all the other chaos which has consumed the Banuk, yes,” Carh confirmed sadly, rubbing his gleaming horns with one hand. “That is why you are being kept here, in the rooms reserved for my use. It is the safest place for you, for no one can enter without my approval.”
“I had wondered about that,” Garnuk murmured. “There is nothing I can do at the moment, but once I am healed – what must I do to regain the Banuk’s trust?”
Carh shook his head sorrowfully. “I do not think my people will give you that chance,” he said at last, glancing at the ancient one.
Teszalk turned to face Garnuk as well. “They are angry, Garnuk, and hurt. Many had friends or family injured by the flames or killed in the battles that wracked this city. A large and vocal segment of our people is demanding all outsiders be sent away, and the gates sealed for good.”
Garnuk’s heart sank. When he had heard about the fire, and that he was being kept here for his safety, he had expected this would follow. “You want us to leave?” he asked Carh, just to be sure.
“Not until you are healed,” the chief said quickly. “I owe you that much at least.”
Garnuk nodded gratefully. “Thank you. Tarq, the rest of Shadow Squadron – ”
“They have already been moved,” Tarq interrupted. “I sent them to the old meeting place, where they used to leave messages for each other. Our other spies are still in place at the moment – ”
“Leave a few at Dun Carryl, but gather the rest,” Garnuk said distractedly. “From now on we fight together, as one.”
“You mean to go to war?” Carh asked.
“Not yet,” Garnuk said. “Soon, perhaps. But I do think it is time we took a more active role.”
Carh nodded thoughtfully, but Teszalk frowned, tapping the arm of his chair.
“Is there something on your mind, Teszalk?” Garnuk asked gently.
Teszalk nodded. “Yes. I know you are meddling with the balance of power in this world, Garnuk, and that you are intelligent and acting in the best interest of our people . . . but even the best of us make mistakes. Take care that you do not tip the scales the wrong way, and inadvertently pitch this world into chaos.”
“I will,” Garnuk promised. “Good luck to both of you. I hope the Banuk can escape further misfortune, and that if nothing else you are spared in this war.”
“It seems you have come to appreciate our ways,” Carh observed.
“More than I expected,” Garnuk agreed with a weak chuckle. “The peace and prosperity your people have . . . it is worth more than all the power in this world.” His throat constricted as he remembered a time when he’d had such harmony. Before he had failed as Ramshuk.
“May the spirits watch over you, Garnuk, and you, Tarq,” Teszalk quavered.
“And over you and yours,” Garnuk replied. He sat back in his chair, suddenly exhausted by all of the talking. Carh must have noticed, for he immediately turned towards the door.
“We will let you rest, friend,” he said as he helped the Ancient One to his feet.
Garnuk nodded gratefully and closed his eyes. In only a few minutes, he was asleep again.
It was a full four weeks since the battle with Hunon before Garnuk felt strong enough to leave the shelter of Banta Kodu. Even still he was not at full strength and his movements were stiff, awkward, and sometimes painful. But he did not want to impose on Carh any longer, and Tarq had informed him that unrest in the city was growing daily. Before much longer, it would be impossible to smuggle them out through the gates.
When the day finally came, Garnuk and Tarq donned their weapons and armor, as well as packs full of provisions. Carh had insisted they take food and medical supplies with them, saying it was the least he could do. He had also given Garnuk a replacement sword, a fine blade similar in style and weight to the one the Exile had lost. Garnuk had been too tired to try refusing the undeserved gifts, and instead accepted them gratefully.
The two vertaga snuck out of the keep through one of the many back doors, and met up with Koah and a band of Sentinels there. The former member of Shadow Squadron had elected to stay behind with his people, and guard them from further conflict. Garnuk had supported the decision whole-heartedly when he was informed, but he knew he would miss Koah’s ferocity and intelligence in the days to come.
The Sentinels wrapped Garnuk and Tarq in Sentinel cloaks and marched them through the city, looking like a mere rotation of the guard, and not the aided escape of two outsiders. The guards at the gate waved them through with hardly a second glance, and then they were out in the snow-covered forest once more. The bite of the cold air sapped Garnuk’s strength more than he remembered, and he shivered inwardly.
“Are you sure you are strong enough for this?” Koah asked him worriedly. “We could hide you for another week or two yet if you wanted.”
Garnuk shook his head wearily. “No, Koah. I must go. I have been away from the war for too long already.”
Koah nodded reluctantly. Then, he saluted Garnuk one last time. “It was an honor to serve you, general,” he murmured.
The Exile smiled and saluted in return. “Good luck to you, Sentinel. May we meet again in peace.”
He went to give his cloak back to Koah, but the Sentinel held up his hands. “Keep it,” he said. “As a gift. To remember your time with us.”
Garnuk inclined his head respectfully, and pulled the cloak tighter around him. “I will treasure it always. Now,” he said, turning to Tarq. “It is time to go on the hunt once more.”
Tarq hitched his pack up a little higher on his shoulders, then nodded to the forest ahead. “After you, my old friend.”
Garnuk took a deep breath, then set off into the forest. His muscles twinged in protest, then gradually became accustomed to the steady pace he had set. A few minutes in, he looked back, trying to catch a final glimpse of Koah and Banta Kodu. But the city was camouflaged once more, and the Sentinels had already merged seamlessly with the snowy forest.
He sighed heavily, then stooped and picked up a branch from the forest floor, brushing the snow off of it. He leaned on it experimentally and it held. Satisfied, Garnuk tapped his new walking stick against the ground twice, then continued on.
“Come on, Tarq,” he said without turning back. “We have much ground to cover.”
Chapter 33:
Alone in the Fells
As it turned out, the two warriors traveled only a short distance that day. By noon, Garnuk was panting from exertion, even with the aid of his walking stick. He continued to hike on stubbornly though, Tarq plodding along behind. When they broke for the midday meal the captain voiced his concerns.
“You cannot continue on like this, general,” he said as he chewed a strip of dried meat.
“Of course I can,” Garnuk snapped bad-temperedly. “I’ve traveled harder paths before.”
“When you were at full strength,” Tarq pointed out. “At the moment, you are in no condition to be hiking for fourteen
hours a day. You must pace yourself, and rest often.”
“We’ll never get there at such a slow pace,” Garnuk muttered.
“We will,” Tarq said patiently. “Normally, I would say that the rendezvous is just under a week away. If we take things slowly, I think we can still be there inside of two weeks.”
“Two weeks?” Garnuk demanded incredulously. “Two weeks? The war will be over in two weeks. Enough talk, we’re pushing on!”
He surged to his feet then, leaning heavily on his staff as he struggled to lift his pack. Eventually he got it settled on his shoulders, but it seemed to have doubled in weight since they had left Banta Kodu. He took a staggering step, nearly fell, then took another step. His legs screamed in protest, but he continued lurching onward.
Within a minute, he collapsed.
Tarq rushed to his side, helping him to roll over and sit up, disentangling his arms from the pack. “As I said, we should rest more than we are used to.”
Garnuk scowled and said nothing, staring off into the distance. How had he grown so weak? So utterly and completely helpless?
“You’ll mend in time,” Tarq promised. “But you won’t be helping anyone if you run yourself into the ground and die of exhaustion on a frozen mountainside.”
Garnuk grunted disconsolately. Tarq grinned to himself and shook his horned head, going back to where they had been eating lunch. Once there, he picked up the rest of their gear and brought it back to where Garnuk had fallen.
“This spot will do as well as any other for a campsite,” he decided, arranging stones in a ring on the ground and scooping the snow to one side. “Now all we need is a good little fire and it will be just like being back in Banta Kodu.”
“No fire,” Garnuk countered automatically.
Tarq tilted his head thoughtfully. “Why not? We are surrounded by forest, the Black Hawks are all slain, and the only ones nearby are the Banuk.”
The Ramshuk (Heirs of Legacy Book 3) Page 33
