The warrior glanced between Tarq and Garnuk, then nodded uncertainly. Tarq moved to stand beside Garnuk and murmured under his breath so that no one else could hear.
“Good to have you back, general.”
Chapter 37:
Strange Findings
“We are from squad three,” the scout said by way of introduction.
Garnuk glanced at the map quickly, finding the area the squad was responsible for and giving their path back to camp a cursory scan.
“You crossed the pass to get here,” he observed. “And the area where Arasnak was training the wolf demons.”
“The butcher?” the other warrior from squad three asked, glancing around nervously.
“He has been called that,” Garnuk said, shrugging.
“We did not see any signs of the butcher or his varloug prans,” the first vertag reported. “But we did find something interesting among the foothills near our camp.”
“Or, rather, the other part of our squad did,” his companion interjected.
“A fortress,” the first elaborated. “Not a vertaga fortress, or at least nor originally.”
“Empty?” Garnuk asked. Perhaps it would be a good base, more centrally located.
“It is now,” the scout said uneasily. “But our comrades found many slain vertaga scattered throughout the structure.”
Tarq leaned forward over the table. “Where was this fortress?” he asked quietly.
The scout frowned down at the map on the table, then placed a clawed finger between two mountains at the northern edge of the Fells. “Here,” he said briefly, “Hidden in the shadows between these peaks, far enough back in the valley to be unobtrusive, half-hidden in forests.”
“Size?” Garnuk asked.
“Could garrison a couple hundred at best,” the scout replied. “Probably less. We think it was originally built by men. There’s a large hall at the center of the main building, but the surrounding passages and stairs are sized for men.”
“Small and narrow?”
The scout shook his head. “No, there was plenty of headroom and the width of the passages was no issue, but the height of the steps was too low for a vertaga dwelling and some of the doors had absurd little knobs rather than handles.”
Garnuk nodded distractedly. “Sounds like human work,” he agreed.
“The slain vertaga were scattered throughout the main hall and the lower levels, the dungeons,” the scout continued. “Every single one bore terrible burns and gashes the likes of which I have never seen in all my fighting years. There was also one on the wall with an arrow through him, but we think it was done by something else.”
“Something else?” Garnuk asked sharply.
“We do not know what,” the scout replied nervously. “All we know is the majority of the deaths were caused by an immensely powerful beast. The burns we cannot explain.”
“Interesting,” Garnuk murmured. Tarq seemed deeply perturbed.
“What do you think it means, general?” the second scout asked quietly.
“Without seeing the place, I cannot know,” Garnuk replied. “But these deaths . . . they are like nothing I have ever heard of. They were all the Usurper’s warriors?”
“Yes,” the scout said quickly. “They bore the symbol his warriors have taken.”
“Another secret project of his?” Tarq wondered aloud, glancing sidelong at Garnuk.
“Perhaps,” the Exile allowed. “Only, this one seems to have backfired.”
“Disastrously,” the first scout added. “The stones and air had a charred quality as well, and the floors were coated in blood and ash.”
“Speak of this to no one else,” Garnuk decided. “But tell your comrades to keep an eye on the area.”
“Of course,” the scout replied, straightening.
“Anything else to report?”
“A few patrols of vertaga were sighted among the foothills and around the pass,” the scout reported, shrugging. “Maybe the Ramshuk is finally preparing to march. That’s all.”
Garnuk nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the map, and the point where the charred fortress stood. “I need a moment to think,” he announced. “Wait outside, but do not go far. I may have more questions.”
“Yes, general,” the scout replied, saluting briefly. Garnuk waited until both scouts had withdrawn, then turned to his second in command.
“What do you think?” he asked Tarq finally, keeping his voice low.
Tarq shrugged and looked away. “If this was indeed a project of the Usurper’s, it seems to have gone very poorly.”
“Agreed,” Garnuk growled. “What concerns me, is if they succeeded in whatever it was they were trying to do. That kind of destructive power in the hands of the Usurper could make him overconfident. It could lead him to stretch his forces too thin, make a critical error – ”
“Which will lead to our people’s demise,” Tarq finished. “Yes, we have had such discussions before.”
“The thing that worries me most though,” Garnuk continued, “Is what this project could be. In all my life, I have never heard of such a slaughter as the one those scouts just described to us.”
“There is one thing I can think of,” Tarq replied. “But it seems unlikely.”
“And what is it?” Garnuk asked eagerly.
“In my tribe,” Tarq began, “We have an elder who tells us tales of far-away lands and long-gone times. In his youth, he traveled far and wide, living with other tribes and collecting their stories and legends. Knowledge was precious to him beyond measure, and we regarded him as one of the wisest vertaga in the mountains.
“Some of his stories were true, others rumors and legends,” Tarq continued. “There was one story that he told only once though, one which has stuck with me over the years.
“I was young then. This was during a hard winter too, when we could barely leave our homes due to the depth of the snow. All of us cubs were confined to the main lodge, where we could not wander off and freeze. The elder told us stories to pass the time and keep us happy.”
Tarq smiled at the memory, a far-away look in his eyes. “He was an excellent storyteller, Garnuk. When he told his stories, they came to life. We would see the shapes of his characters in the smoke, feel the tension of a battle. That night in the lodge, he told many stories. But only one of them I had not heard before, and have not heard since.
“The elder spoke of an ancient time when the mountains were ruled not by vertaga but by a different breed of beasts. The vertaga were still here, of course, but they lived in fear of these monsters. Huge they were, and they shone like gemstones. They had massive wings that allowed them to fly, thick limbs made for crushing and ripping, and the elder said they could breathe fire for minutes at a time.
“These creatures were nearly undefeatable in battle,” Tarq continued. “I do not remember much else about the story, other than that these fire lizards were immensely powerful, dangerous, and destructive. I do not see how one would fit into a fortress or a dungeon the way our scouts have described, but the damage to the fortress matches what I would expect of such a beast.”
“A fire lizard?” Garnuk snorted.
“The elder called them something else,” Tarq said thoughtfully. “Dragons, that was it!”
“A dragon,” Garnuk repeated, shaking his head and chuckling to himself. “As exciting as that would be, Tarq, I suspect the true explanation for the slaughter is far more mundane than the emergence of a legendary beast. Perhaps the Usurper was developing a new weapon. Oil will burn if lit, maybe he discovered a new compound which burned fiercer and hotter, and could be lobbed into the enemy ranks.”
“That would explain the wounds as well,” Tarq conceded. “The annoying thing is, we may never know the answer to this unusual puzzle.”
“Would it be worth sending more warriors to investigate?” Garnuk wondered, considering the two scouts who were standing silently outside the pavilion.
“I take it you have mor
e questions?” Tarq grunted.
“Yes,” Garnuk replied promptly. “Bring them back in.”
Tarq went to the entrance of the pavilion, spoke briefly with the rams outside, then escorted them back in. Garnuk surveyed them briefly, gathering his thoughts.
“Your comrades,” he began finally. “Did they have time to search the rest of the fortress?”
“They did not linger long,” the first scout replied, shrugging. “They were unsettled by what they had already found, understandably so.”
“They noticed nothing else? Nothing that could give us any clues?”
“There was nothing,” the scout said firmly. “Just dead vertaga from the Usurper’s ranks scattered everywhere, charred walls and floors, and an empty fortress.”
“When did this happen?” Tarq interrupted. “The attack itself, not when you found the results.”
The two scouts looked at each other uncertainly. “A few weeks maybe?” one said tentatively.
“Do you have any idea?” Garnuk asked sharply.
The scouts shook their heads after a moment’s indecision. “No, general.”
“Then say so,” Garnuk replied. “There is nothing to be gained by random guessing. Next time you report back, I want an estimate as to when this massacre happened. It could be that it will line up with other troop movements or events we have noticed and, therefore, give us a clue as to what happened.”
“They will not be eager to return,” one of the scouts warned. “We were barely able to get them to talk about it.”
“Then the two of you go, and send them back to report on the next cycle,” Garnuk growled. “I don’t care how the task is accomplished as long as it is done. Clear?”
“Yes, general,” they muttered.
“Good, you can go,” Garnuk grunted.
The scouts hesitated, watching Garnuk warily. Then Tarq nodded sharply at them and they withdrew hurriedly, the tent flap snapping shut behind them.
Garnuk sighed heavily and leaned forward over the table once again.
“Very curious” he murmured to Tarq, lowering his voice again. “I must admit, this is not the sort of thing I expected to be hearing about from our warriors.”
“Nor I,” Tarq rumbled, running his rough hands over his horns and stretching. “What do I think, Garnuk? I think something strange is at work here.”
“Strange?”
“Unnatural,” Tarq clarified. “Think about it for a moment. The legendary home of the Banuk was found not only by us, but also by the Black Hawks. The butcher is in the open again, and he has successfully trained – ”
“Let’s not be hasty,” Garnuk interrupted. “He has subjugated them, but they are far from trained based on our warriors’ observations.”
“Fine, subjugated then,” Tarq agreed, accepting the correction. “And now, a fortress of vertaga bearing the Usurper’s mark has been killed in spectacular fashion. These are not normal events, Garnuk. They are not the standard battles and raids, the struggles of armies. This . . . I don’t know what happened at that fortress, but I doubt it was a raid by men.”
“So do I,” Garnuk agreed. “I do not think men would have used fire in the way that our warriors described either. But if it was not the Sthan, then what? An experiment gone wrong? A new kind of weapon being tested?”
“What sort of weapon could do that?” Tarq wondered. “I almost wish I could see the wounds and where the slain had fallen. Secondhand reports are frustratingly low on such details unfortunately.”
“Maybe we could – ”
“No,” Tarq interrupted immediately, eyes flashing. “You and I will not be going there, general. The journey is too long and too far. Besides, we would be marching through some of the most dangerous parts of the mountains, and we need you here to respond to the Usurper’s next move, when it comes.”
“I was not going to suggest we go to the burned fortress,” Garnuk growled. “I was going to suggest a different destination.”
“Oh?” Tarq asked.
“We may be able to learn what happened at that fortress without going there,” Garnuk explained. “There is a battle being fought even now which neither side is making progress in. Where better for the Usurper, or the Sthan, to test a new power at their disposal?”
“You’re thinking of visiting Ishkabur,” Tarq growled. “That’s not much better.”
“Actually, it is significantly better,” Garnuk replied testily. “We can be at Ishkabur in two days, easily. We get there, we observe, we come back. We need intelligence on how many troops the Usurper has committed there and the status of the siege. We have no other warriors to send, and we are the best, so it makes sense that we should go instead of our guards.”
“You are not ready.”
“I never will be ready if all I do is lie in my tent and wait!” Garnuk snapped. “The only way for me to get back to full strength is to start doing things again, Tarq. A short trip to Ishkabur is no hardship.”
“No hardship? Running through the mountains in winter is no hardship?”
“It is not so deep into winter yet,” Garnuk said dismissively. “The snows aren’t even up to our knees yet.”
“Yet,” Tarq said darkly, shivering as he looked around the small pavilion. “It doesn’t matter, we can’t go. We are needed here to take reports from the spies and interpret them.”
“We can have them leave written reports for a few days,” Garnuk suggested.
“And find the camp in disarray and a stack of reports that aren’t ordered in any way shape or form when we return?”
“We’d leave clear instructions – ”
“Vertaga aren’t known for following instructions, or reading them for that matter.”
Garnuk growled under his breath. “What is it you are so afraid of, Tarq? And don’t pretend that this is about my health anymore.”
“It is,” Tarq protested. “If I give you this, then you will push for more. And more, and more. Until you do too much again and you end up with potentially deadly wounds or other injuries. Injuries which will be impossible to mend out here in the wilderness. The only reason you survived before was because we had shelter among the Banuk, and access to not only their best healers but also their vast resources. If you had suffered wounds like those from your fight against Hunon out here with nothing but the mountains around us – ”
“I’d be dead,” Garnuk finished. “Yes, I understand that. But, Hunon is dead now and so are the rest of the Black Hawks. Who is left to pose such a threat to us?”
“Numbers can accomplish what skill cannot,” Tarq muttered. “If we were ambushed by a patrol, for instance. Two against twenty is not good odds.”
“Then we will be careful and avoid detection.”
“How?”
“Very easily, actually,” Garnuk replied. “Do we have any old shields lying around?”
“Of course, but I fail to see how that would help us!” Tarq said heatedly.
“Clearly,” Garnuk muttered. “What about some paint, or something we can use as paint?”
“Maybe,” Tarq said, shrugging.
“Then bring it here,” Garnuk said, gesturing urgently. “I have to get started if we’re going to leave this week.”
“Start what? And,” Tarq added, holding up a clawed hand, “We’re not going anywhere.”
“Start our disguises of course,” Garnuk replied, fuming inwardly.
Tarq cocked his head curiously. “You did not mention disguises previously,” he said tentatively.
“The idea occurred to me only recently,” Garnuk admitted.
“And what are those disguises?” Tarq asked eagerly.
Garnuk chuckled to himself. “Nothing too complicated, Tarq. Or too exciting for that matter. We are simply going to become members of the Usurper’s forces.”
“Two vertaga wandering the mountains alone is still suspicious,” Tarq pointed out.
“Two messengers? From Dun Carryl?”
“Less suspici
ous,” Tarq said thoughtfully, scratching his horns with a rasp of nails against bone. “I don’t know, Garnuk. There was a time when most among our people knew what you looked like.”
“Those times are gone,” Garnuk grunted. “Few outside of the Usurper’s most important servants are likely to recognize me by sight anymore.”
“And those will be concentrated in two places,” Tarq added wryly, “Dun Carryl and the army.”
“It is still a risk,” Garnuk allowed. “I do not pretend there is nothing that can go wrong. But the risk is manageable, and I believe this journey to be necessary.”
“Because you are bored?” Tarq asked.
“Partially,” Garnuk admitted, to which Tarq chuckled quietly. “But also because I hate not knowing exactly what is going on. And my instinct tells me there are momentous events we are missing out on.”
“You believe those events are occurring at Ishkabur?” Tarq murmured, leaning in.
Garnuk nodded slowly. “I believe so.”
Tarq stood up straight, his horns nearly brushing the roof of the pavilion, then tucked his chin against his chest as he thought to himself.
“Very well,” he decided at last. “I will accompany you. But let us wait another five days before we go. That will allow the rest of the second round of reports to come in, and give us time to teach the guards who are to remain exactly what we need them to do while we are gone.”
Garnuk hesitated. He resented the delay, but Tarq’s reasoning was sound. And there was a challenging light in the other vertag’s eye which told him he was being tested.
“So be it,” the general said reluctantly. “Five days. But no longer, unless something else comes up and we need to change our plans. Change them,” he added quickly, “Not cancel them.”
“Five days,” Tarq agreed, nodding decisively. “I will begin making preparations.”
Chapter 38:
The City of Men
The five days passed slowly for Garnuk.
The general spent every moment in agony, waiting for something to go wrong or for some momentous event to occur that would disrupt his planned trip to Ishkabur. Each day, at least one of the scout teams reported in. They passed on their observations to Garnuk and Tarq in the command pavilion, and throughout each debriefing the Exile waited with bated breath for disaster. But each time, there was nothing overly concerning in the spies’ reports. At the end of such sessions, Garnuk and Tarq dismissed their warriors, advising them to keep an eye out and keep reporting in.
The Ramshuk (Heirs of Legacy Book 3) Page 38
