Garnuk chuckled. “It is different from what you are used to, yes? As an exile, you have to be confident and decisive. We have no territory, so we are invaders everywhere. We are walking into our enemies’ house and claiming a portion of it for ourselves. That takes strength. Confidence. Intelligence. Those three traits are what set us apart from those who did not survive the Usurper’s purge.”
The captain nodded thoughtfully. “It just feels so wrong,” he said finally.
“Just like the Southern Sea near Banta Kodu?” Garnuk asked, seeing the connection.
Tarq shuddered. “Do not speak of that place. It is unnatural for so much water to be collected in the same area. I am a creature of mountains, caves, and valleys. These open spaces unsettle me, no matter the arguments you make. It is my instinct, a bone-deep knowledge that this is not my place.”
Garnuk shrugged. “I can accept that, I suppose. But you should not let your surroundings affect how you carry yourself. You’ll be out of breath before much longer running hunched over like that.”
Tarq snorted and straightened perceptibly. Almost immediately though, instinct took over and he began to lean forward again.
“That’s going to take practice,” Garnuk observed to nobody in particular.
“No, it won’t,” Tarq snarled. “Because as soon as this mission is over, I’m going back to my mountains and staying there for however long I live.”
“Fair enough,” Garnuk said. He returned his attention to running, endless running. This was a race that Garnuk refused to lose so long as there was strength left in his body to go faster. He increased the pace slightly, watching to see if Tarq was able to keep up. The captain struggled for the first few strides, then fell into a new rhythm and ran smoothly beside him again.
They continued into the night, guided by the stars until the early morning, when a sliver of the moon emerged and made the light of the stars harder to see. Garnuk checked their course one more time, then gradually slowed to a stop.
“What’s wrong?” Tarq gasped out as he came to a halt beside the general.
“Nothing,” Garnuk replied, breathing deeply. “We are getting close to our goal. We have time to rest for an hour or so, if you wish.”
“Rest?” Tarq asked. “Is something wrong, Garnuk? Are your injuries bothering – ?”
“No,” the Exile snapped. “I am fine. I can continue if need be, but there is little point in running ourselves into the ground. We have made excellent time and I thought that a short rest might be welcome before we reach our destination and the next part of our mission begins.”
Tarq shook his head, stumbling a half pace to the right. “I . . . I don’t think I could rest right now,” he muttered. “It feels like I’m still running.”
Garnuk nodded. He was feeling a little off balance himself. “There may not be time to rest when we arrive,” he warned.
“Then we will push forward,” Tarq said stoically. “But right now, all I want is to finish this journey.”
Garnuk sighed heavily, glancing at the remaining stars. “Very well. I should be able to get us there before dawn. But we’ll slow the pace a little.”
“That I can agree with,” Tarq chuckled. “Let’s run.”
The two warriors loped across the snow-blanketed plains, the night concealing them. On the northern horizon, a low range of hills soon became visible. Upon one of those, Garnuk knew, stood the Sthan fortress. And somewhere east of that fortress, the Usurper’s warriors were closing in.
The hills slowly grew in size over the next few hours, rising from indistinct bumps to craggy outcrops with rough slopes. To the west, the hills were smoother, rolling gently up from the plains. But to the north and east the hills seemed broken, their sides cliffs rather than slopes, boulders and rubble strewn around their bases. Garnuk found the landmark he had set for their meeting place, then led Tarq a little to the east and up a steep incline to another hilltop that offered a good view of the surrounding land, including the meeting place.
More importantly, though, Garnuk could just make out the West Bank to the east. He moved to the very edge of the hill, gazing off into the distance with his keen eyes, trying to discern if there was any activity at the fortress. As far as he could tell, battle had not yet been joined. There were no armies surrounding the impressive structure, and no dragon soaring across the sky.
“No sign of them,” Tarq observed, echoing Garnuk’s thoughts.
The Exile nodded absently. “I do not doubt the dragon is there though,” he murmured. “It seems unlikely that it would have stayed at Ishkabur with the vertaga there defeated.”
“Agreed,” Tarq said. He scratched his horns and yawned, exposing his sharp teeth. “What is your plan, general?” he finally asked.
Garnuk shrugged. “Sleep, I suppose. There is nothing to observe yet, and our comrades are still on the way. Therefore, we should take the opportunity to let our bodies recover from the damage they took on the way here.”
Tarq chuckled to himself as he sank to the ground, shrugging off his pack. “Yes, that was quite a feat wasn’t it? All the way from our previous camp in a little over two full days?”
“A run to be proud of,” Garnuk rumbled. “But now, sleep. We will see what can be seen tomorrow.”
Tarq stretched out on his back and was asleep in minutes, snoring quietly. Garnuk took more time to spread out his own bedroll and stretch some of the stiffness from his legs and back. He did not want to wake up the next morning immobilized by cramps and protesting muscles. When he was satisfied he had done all he could to escape that fate, the Exile stretched out on his bedroll and was asleep in minutes.
When Garnuk woke, the sun was just past its zenith, moving towards the western horizon. He sat up blearily and looked over at Tarq. The captain was still asleep, but he had rolled over onto his side at some point during the night, one side of his face mashed against the ground. Garnuk snorted quietly, then got to his feet and stretched, grimacing. Even with the precautions he had taken the previous night, his muscles seemed stiff and inflexible. He hoped they would be able to function well enough for battle if needed.
The general ate a meal of dried meat and water, then paced around the top of the hill, surveying the surrounding area. A small camp had sprung up at the meeting place during the day, roughly a dozen warriors gathering among the broken and tumbled landscape west of the hill. Garnuk tried to discern their identities, but the distance was too great. He would send Tarq to retrieve them when the captain woke.
Garnuk wandered back to their camp on the far side of the plateau, watching Tarq’s still figure impatiently. He had hoped that once he started moving around and making noise, Tarq would wake on his own. But the captain was still well and truly out, breathing deeply and evenly. The Exile sighed impatiently, rolled his eyes, and kicked his friend lightly.
Tarq grunted in surprise, snuffling and snorting to himself as he came awake and peered around blearily. His eyes found Garnuk and he scowled.
“Did you wake me?” he demanded.
Garnuk shrugged. “The time for resting is over, friend. The time for the doing of things is here.”
Tarq scowled and sat up, rubbing at his face with one massive hand, careful not to gouge himself with his own claws. He glanced up at the sky and started visibly.
“It’s been a few hours I take it?” he said, a trifle sheepishly. “Have any of the others arrived?”
“There are twelve at the gathering site at last count,” Garnuk told him. “You can fetch them once you are fully awake and functioning.”
“Oh? And what are you going to do?” Tarq asked belligerently, thrusting his jaw forward.
“Check on the West Bank,” Garnuk replied, moving to the edge of the hill top and peering to the east. “Still no armies,” he observed curiously.
Tarq stretched, joints cracking and popping with sharp, painful noises. “I hope we were right about where those warriors were going,” he said, scratching his back with his claws
.
Garnuk frowned thoughtfully. “It is the only course that makes sense,” he said firmly. “The Usurper’s armies will be here. I have no doubts about that.”
The captain stood, looked around to get his bearings, then started off towards the meeting point. “Maybe some of the others will have news,” he called over his shoulder. “They could have crossed paths with the army.”
“Maybe,” Garnuk agreed, still looking to the east. “Bring them quickly, Tarq. I have a strange feeling we do not have much time left.”
The captain nodded and loped down the broken hillside, making for the gathering point. Garnuk continued to gaze east, frowning. The army was not yet there, but he had seen something else stirring behind the Sthan walls. Something emerald green in color, and something which flashed and gleamed as brilliantly as a thousand stars in the night sky.
“Dragon,” Garnuk cursed under his breath. The beast was here after all. It might not matter in the end with the forces the Usurper had deployed, but it would certainly make things more difficult. And the beast had keen senses as well, which would make it harder for Garnuk and his own warriors to stay hidden from their vantage points around the site of the battle.
As he had the thought, Garnuk pulled a small sheet of parchment out of a pocket, frowning at it. He had sketched the map a few days earlier, back at their previous camp in the mountains. The parchment depicted a crude outline of the Sthan fortress and the surrounding lands, with the observation points he wanted each squad at marked by tiny black numbers. There were eight places marked, seven of them for the squads under his command, the eighth for Garnuk and Tarq. Harg’s squad would not be at the battle. Instead, they were to go north and check for Sthan reinforcements. They already had those orders though, and could very well be past the West Bank already.
Garnuk sighed with frustration and began to pace at the edge of the hill, deep in thought. There were so many unknowns in this battle. He didn’t even know where the bulk of his forces were at the moment, how long he had to finish gathering them, what impact the dragon would have.
Low voices interrupted Garnuk’s thoughts and he realized Tarq must be drawing near with his warriors. The Exile stopped pacing abruptly and stood calmly at the very edge of the hill, looking to the east confidently. As though he owned the lands he surveyed imperiously. The rams needed to see their general confident and collected, not worriedly striding back and forth, wearing a furrow into the ground with his boots.
“General!” Tarq called.
Garnuk turned slowly and saw his captain approaching rapidly. “Four squads have reported in,” he announced. “And they bring news.”
“News?” Garnuk asked sharply.
“The Usurper is on the move. His warriors were seen moving towards the West Bank, likely to arrive and attack before dusk tonight.”
Garnuk stiffened. Before dusk. That only gave him a few hours to get his warriors into position and brief them on the mission. It would take time to sneak up to the fortress and find hidden observation points to watch the battle from. And had Harg and his team made their way north yet?
The Exile spread his battle map over a short boulder and snatched a writing stick from an inner pocket, scribbling instructions on the back side. Tarq joined him, frowning down at the words as Garnuk wrote.
“Telling each squad how to operate during the battle,” Garnuk muttered. “The position you and I will hold is marked on the map. If they observe anything they think should be reported, an opportunity to tip the scales, they are to inform us and let us decide what is to be done.”
“General,” Tarq interrupted hesitantly.
“They probably won’t be noticed running back and forth in all of the confusion,” the Exile muttered feverishly, still scribbling as fast as he could. “And I don’t have precise hiding places for all of them, but I think that they should be able to find suitable niches around the fortress.”
“General,” Tarq said again, a little more urgently this time. Still the Exile ignored his companion, engrossed in the task before him.
“If the battle goes poorly, we withdraw with the Usurper’s forces. Not among them, but loosely attached so as not to arouse suspicion. Then, we slip away during the night and make for . . .” He consulted a larger map, scratching at his horns. “The vale near the broken peak.”
“Garnuk,” Tarq hissed, leaning down so that he was face to face with the general. “Listen to me for a moment, and stop writing!”
The general stopped, looked up in surprise, then slowly put the writing stick down.
“This plan will not work,” he said, “Having all of the warriors report to you before acting. In these sorts of battles timing is everything. By the time a ram runs to you with information, you decide whether or not to act, and he runs back to his comrades, the moment will be lost. Or, our warriors will still act and it has an effect contrary to what you would have expected to happen a few minutes earlier.”
“Do you have a better plan?” Garnuk growled.
“Yes. These rams are capable, the finest we have ever fought with. They were officers under you in the past, most of them. They can think for themselves. Now is the time to trust them to make decisions.”
“No,” Garnuk snapped. “Absolutely not.”
Tarq sighed with frustration, glancing back at the other warriors who were, fortunately, out of earshot. “This battle will require nudges at the right time. The nudges don’t have to be delicate, precise, or invisible. This battle must go the way we want at all costs, general, or so you have led me to believe. What is it you fear will happen if we turn our warriors loose and let them act independently? You think that they will act rashly, get themselves exposed or killed?”
“I fear they will tip the scales the wrong way at the wrong time,” Garnuk muttered under his breath. “That they will make the wrong decisions and put the Usurper in a precarious position.”
“Then instruct them to do nothing to help the Sthan,” Tarq said. “Simple. If the scales need to be tipped back the other way, you and I handle it personally.”
Garnuk considered this, nodding slowly. “It could work,” he murmured. He glanced to the east, shaking his head. “It might have to, since we are short on time.”
“Trust me in this, general,” Tarq urged.
The Exile looked back at his warriors, evaluating them. They were clustered in a small circle, their weapons slung over their backs or held loosely in their hands. These were rams who knew they were about to go out on a dangerous mission, and had been running dangerous missions for months.
And yet, they stood casually in their small group, completely relaxed. Confident, even. They believed in their general, the mission, and their own skills. Not one of them exhibited any trace of fear or uncertainty.
Garnuk took up the writing stick again, rolling it between his thick fingers. Then, with several quick slashes, he crossed out the instructions he had been writing, replacing them with a few lines, which he read aloud for Tarq’s benefit as he wrote.
“Proceed to numbered locations on map. Observe the progress of battle. The goal is a narrow victory for the Usurper. Tip the scales with that in mind, using your best judgement. Do not waste time getting approval from the general. The time has come to act.”
Garnuk set the writing stick down and reviewed the words, making sure he had left nothing out. Then he nodded once and stood tall, facing his warriors.
“The time of the battle is near,” he called. “Latest reports indicate the Usurper’s army will arrive this evening, and likely attack as soon as they get here. We need to be in position and ready to operate by then. Each squad has a location assigned to them on this map,” he said, holding the parchment high, then handing it to Tarq. “See the captain for your assignments, then depart immediately to get into position. Take care you are not spotted until battle is joined.”
He hesitated, looking around at the hard, determined faces staring back at him. “It is my honor to fight with you,” h
e said finally. “With all of you. I feel I can trust each and every one of you with my life, and with the mission. Go now, and continue the work we began so many months ago: the preservation of our people, and the downfall of the Usurper.”
The warriors growled in agreement saluting him. Garnuk saluted back, surprising them, then turned and retreated to the edge of the hill. Tarq would handle the distribution of assignments just fine without him overseeing things.
By the time Tarq joined the Exile at the edge of the hill, there were only a few hours remaining until sunset. Garnuk glanced down at the plains, observing the five bands of warriors fanning out from the hill, surrounding the West Bank. The fifth group had arrived while Tarq was giving the original four their orders.
“Two groups have yet to come,” the captain said, shading his eyes as he peered south.
“We cannot linger,” Garnuk murmured. “You and I must be in position soon as well.” He took the parchment from Tarq, frowning thoughtfully. “Gather your equipment and prepare to move out. I’ll put the map and the instructions at the gathering point, where it will be easily found.”
“Are you sure? What if it is discovered by someone outside outside of Shadow Squadron?” Tarq asked.
Garnuk shrugged. “I doubt it will be. The Usurper comes from the east, and the Sthan are holed up in their fortress. Besides, the information this sheet contains will be useless after the battle tonight.”
Tarq hesitated, then shrugged. “Very well, general,” he rumbled. “I will prepare for battle.”
As Tarq stumped off to gather his kit, Garnuk took one last look at the eastern horizon. He could see no sign of the Usurper’s army yet, and no sign of the dragon either. The fortress was still and silent, waiting.
Then, Garnuk turned abruptly from the edge of the hill and retreated to the gathering point, picking his way among the rubble and placing the parchment on a flat stone. He weighed it down with a sizeable rock, then shifted his pack higher on his shoulders and drew his sword. The blade gleamed in the bright afternoon light, shimmering and winking in the sun.
The Ramshuk (Heirs of Legacy Book 3) Page 43
