The Ramshuk (Heirs of Legacy Book 3)

by Paul Lauritsen

  “Undoubtedly,” Tarq agreed. “But, even though the battle is lost, the war is not over.”

  “What do you mean?” Garnuk asked.

  “The Sthan took heavy losses as well,” Tarq pointed out. “Maybe too heavy.”

  “You are hoping that they will not continue into the mountains?”

  “That is our only hope,” Tarq said with a shrug. “That, and this – Harg tells me the Sthan army is burdened by much equipment and supplies and moves very slowly. It takes hours to get moving each day and hours to make camp each night. Even for hornless humans, they are slow.”

  “So we have a great deal of time to prepare for our demise,” Garnuk observed. “I would almost rather a quick death.”

  “The end is not guaranteed,” Tarq argued. “The Sthan do not know of Dun Carryl, do they?”

  “It is not likely,” Garnuk said slowly. “Unless they have scouted the mountains more extensively than we realize.”

  “And the other villages are well hidden, are they not?”

  “Yes,” Garnuk agreed.

  “Then this slow-moving army could go to the mountains, wander aimlessly, and never find any more vertaga?”

  Garnuk sighed. “There’s a chance, Tarq, I’ll give you that. But so many things have gone unexpectedly wrong I have a hard time holding on to such a frail hope as that.”

  “It is better than nothing.”

  Garnuk fell silent, thinking over Tarq’s observations. “An army this large has a ravenous stomach,” he murmured. “Once they are in the mountains, they will not be able to sustain themselves for long. There just isn’t enough food to keep them going. They could get provisions from Ishkabur, but it was just under siege . . . although the harbor will be open now, and we know they have plenty of supply ships.”

  Tarq said nothing, letting his general think, test his ideas and try to reason things out for himself. Garnuk was grateful to the captain for that. Garnuk’s mind followed strange and complicated paths when he was thinking, and if he were interrupted or distracted he could lose his train of thought easily.

  “We will wait,” he declared finally. “We will camp here until we see if the Sthan continue to push south or not. If they do . . . we will reevaluate the situation and see what can be done.”

  Tarq nodded, satisfied. “I think that is wise, general. There is still much we don’t know. Do you wish to interrogate the prisoner? Maybe he will know something useful.”

  Garnuk shook his head. “Tomorrow. Tomorrow is a new day. I will speak with him then. Organize a guard roster between you, Harg, and a few others. Only those you trust the most. Some of our warriors may not agree with holding our own kind prisoner, but this is only temporary.”

  “And once you are done with the commander?” Tarq asked quietly. “What then?”

  “He will live,” Garnuk said firmly. “We will release him into the Basin, to go where he pleases.”

  “He may go back to Dun Carryl.”

  “And tell the Usurper what? That we are alive and well and causing trouble? He already knows that.”

  “True.” Tarq frowned into the darkness, thinking, then shook his head. “I need rest,” he announced. “I’ll have Harg wake me in three hours, then I’ll wake you in another three.”

  “Fair enough,” Garnuk murmured distractedly. He did not retire to his bedroll yet, instead reviewing a few more possible plans. He discarded them all, one by one, then sighed and moved back to the camp, spreading his bedroll on the ground. In moments, he was asleep, his weary mind and body too exhausted to stay awake.

  It seemed that the six hours before Garnuk’s watch went by far too quickly. In no time at all, Tarq’s rough hand was shaking him awake, the captain reporting that the prisoner was secure and that it was time for his watch. Garnuk cast off his furs, shivering in the cold night air, and walked over to where the commander was sprawled on his side, his hands and feet bound, his mouth gagged. The commander was awake now though, his eyes following Garnuk.

  The Exile nodded to the prisoner, then sat down facing him, picking at the few tufts of wet, brown grass poking out of the frozen ground. The prisoner made no attempt to speak or make demands, he just watched Garnuk with an unsettling gaze. After several minutes of this, Garnuk met the prisoner’s stare head on.

  “You can stare all you want, commander,” Garnuk told him in a low voice. “But you will not be released and you will learn nothing from me. I have no desire to talk to you right now, so you might as well sleep. If it concerns you at all, your warriors managed to escape the slaughter at the West Bank with my help. They are on their way back to Dun Carryl with Gorit and Uriv.”

  The commander snorted in disgust and turned his head away from Garnuk. Apparently, the fate of his warriors was of no concern to him. Either that or he was making a comment on what he thought of Gorit and Uriv. Whichever it was, Garnuk did not really care. He had no interest in the prisoner, for his mind was at the not-distant-enough Sthan fortress, wondering what was happening there.

  The sun rose only an hour or so into Garnuk’s watch, pale rays stretching across the winter-gripped world, dispelling a tiny fraction of the air’s chill. The sky was still largely clouded, with the promise of snow in the near future. Garnuk did not mind the weather. He had lived all of his life in the south, and had grown used to the snow, ice, and freezing temperatures. He respected the power of winter, but he did not fear it as some did. Not after spending so many winters on the run.

  The rest of Shadow Squadron began to stir around him. There was no wood for fires, so the warriors broke out dry rations from their packs and water skins. Most of them were chewing disconsolately on stringy smoked or salted meat.

  Tarq and Harg joined Garnuk by the prisoner, Tarq carrying his own breakfast, several strips of smoked mutton.

  “Did he say anything interesting or try to escape?” the captain asked as he sat.

  Garnuk glanced at the commander, who was awake once more. “Not yet,” he said, eying the vertag shrewdly. “In fact, he’s been rather good company.”

  “Meaning he doesn’t interrupt your thinking the way we do,” Tarq said wryly, sitting down on the cold, damp ground.

  Harg sat as well, sighing quietly as he did so. “The others are restless,” he reported quietly. “Yesterday’s battle seems to have affected them.”

  “More likely the dragon has affected them,” Tarq countered, grimacing.

  “You knew about the beast?”

  “Yes,” Garnuk said, frowning. “We saw it when we were in Ishkabur. The dragon broke the siege there. It appears to be fighting with the Sthan for the time being.”

  “There was a human on its back,” Tarq reminded Garnuk. “I wonder if the man has mastered the dragon or if the dragon tolerates him. Or, do they work as a team?”

  “Whatever their relationship, they are effective,” Garnuk murmured. “That’s two battles the Sthan should have lost that they ended up winning because of the dragon and the human rider.”

  “If we separated them,” Harg mused, “Then perhaps we could turn the dragon.”

  “That would be risky,” Tarq muttered. “And that’s putting it mildly. In reality, such a plan would be absolute idiocy. Have you seen the beast fight?”

  “Well, no, but – ”

  “Even varloug prans are no match for it. The dragon can breathe fire too, you know.”

  “That does make approaching it difficult,” Harg agreed.

  “You mean impossible.”

  “Enough,” Garnuk said quietly.

  The squabbling warriors looked over at him surprised. Garnuk met their eyes sternly.

  “The dragon is a problem, yes, but not one which is unsolvable. If we can isolate it, or surround it with enough warriors working as a team rather than individuals, I believe it can be defeated. Based on what we have seen of it so far, it is not terribly mobile on the ground. If it can be kept on the ground for an extended fight and surrounded, then there is a chance.”

 
“Well you won’t be surrounding it with our force,” Harg muttered. “Thirty rams against an unstoppable flaming war machine is not good odds.”

  “I was not going to attempt it with our warriors,” Garnuk said dismissively. “That is not our role in this war. No, the tactic is simple enough that even the Usurper should be able to figure it out and act. I only bring the matter up to assure you the situation is not so bad as it might seem.”

  “You said that our people needed to win the fight at the West Bank,” Harg pointed out.

  “It would have been better if they had,” Garnuk agreed. “But the loss is not insurmountable. Tarq and I saved a good portion of the attacking force, and the fortress was still very nearly overrun. Now the king’s army presents a new set of challenges, but I think there is still hope.”

  “Hope for what?” Harg demanded. “Surely not victory?”

  “Not a victory in the sense of destroying the Sthan,” Garnuk admitted. “But the preservation of our people. With the blood of the fallen, we can buy another long period of isolation and safety for our race.”

  “Can we?” Harg asked bitterly. “You haven’t seen the size of the king’s army, general. There are thousands of warriors in that force, and they’ve brought a large number of mounted warriors, siege engines, and supply carts. I have never seen such a massive force mobilized.”

  “They will be moving slowly,” Garnuk pointed out, glancing at Tarq for confirmation. “And once they reach the mountains, they will be vulnerable.”

  “If they reach the mountains,” the captain added quickly. “Remember, they may not march.”

  Garnuk nodded. “That reminds me. Harg, I need you to take a few rams and keep an eye on the Sthan armies at the West Bank. The moment they move out, let us know.”

  Harg nodded slowly. “Aye. And I’ll send messengers back every day with any information we have managed to gather on their armies.”

  The warrior rose to his feet and lumbered away, shouting for a half dozen warriors to pack their gear and come with him. Garnuk turned his attention to the soft ground, and began scratching in the dirt idly. Tarq however watched Harg go with a slight frown on his rough features.

  “General,” Tarq murmured.

  “Hmm?” Garnuk replied distractedly.

  “Does it seem to you that Harg’s enthusiasm for our mission has thinned some?”

  “I would be surprised if it had not, considering the dragon showed up yesterday.”

  Tarq nodded thoughtfully, gazing after Harg as he gathered his warriors. “And now you’re sending him off on another assignment on his own,” he observed.

  Garnuk looked up from his drawings. “You’re worried about him betraying us.”

  Tarq shook his horned head uncertainly. “Not really. I just wonder about these things. He has spent a good deal of time away from base camp. And those warriors he is taking with him, they are the same who scouted the king’s army.”

  “So he trusts them,” Garnuk said, shrugging. “Wouldn’t you select warriors whom you had worked with recently for a mission if you had the option?”

  “Depends on how the previous mission went.”

  Garnuk chuckled. “A valid point. Still, I trust Harg to do the right thing. Whether you trust him or not comes down to whether or not you trust my judgement.”

  Garnuk sat up straighter, then turned to look at the bound commander lying beside him. “Now, if this matter is settled, I think it is time to figure out what our guest knows.” He leaned over and ripped the prisoner’s gag free. The commander blinked in surprise, and struggled to sit up, wriggling helplessly.

  “Help him, Tarq,” Garnuk said.

  Tarq scowled, but got to his feet and dragged the prisoner upright, then sat down again, his axe across his knees, one hand gripping the haft tightly.

  “You are a commander in the army of the Ramshuk,” Garnuk stated, fixing the prisoner with a level gaze. “Is that correct?”

  The commander said nothing, merely staring back at the Exile.

  Garnuk sighed. “I will assume that is an answer in the affirmative since Gorit and Uriv divulged as much during your interactions.

  “Where are they?” the prisoner snarled.

  “They are safe, for the time being,” Garnuk replied. “On their way back to Dun Carryl. I told you this already when I took over the watch during the night.”

  “They betrayed me.”

  “No,” Garnuk said, shaking his head. “Nobody has betrayed you. You just picked a poor spot to watch the battle from. I was already there, you see.”

  “From that perspective, you could say that it was an excellent spot to see the battle from,” Tarq interjected, “Seeing as two different leaders picked it for their observation point.”

  Garnuk chuckled in spite of the serious situation. “That is true,” he admitted. “In any event, commander, we have a number of questions for you.”

  “You will not get answers.”

  “You haven’t even heard the questions yet,” Garnuk replied. “So your statement is rather ludicrous. Now, what is your name?”

  The commander thought about this, then apparently decided that such information was harmless enough. “Ruekig,” he replied shortly.

  “You are a commander?”

  “Yes.”

  “You served under a general who oversaw the entire West Bank assault?”

  “No,” Ruekig replied. “I worked with another commander, the one who brought the siege engines.”

  “So no one officer was in command?”

  “No.”

  “See, I told you he was good company,” Garnuk said to Tarq cheerfully. “Now, let’s talk about why you were here in the first place.”

  The commander looked between Tarq and Garnuk. “Who are you?” he asked bluntly.

  “I get to ask the questions,” Garnuk told him curtly. “That’s how it works when you are my prisoner.”

  “You are a vertag,” Ruekig protested. “I am a vertag. We all serve the Ramshuk! Why are you doing this?”

  Garnuk smiled darkly. “Not all of us,” he replied. “We don’t all serve the Ramshuk. Surely you have heard of us?”

  Ruekig stiffened, eyes darting around the camp. “You are few in number,” he murmured. “But bold, and skilled.” His eyes widened, and he glared at Garnuk. “You are the one they call the Exile. The former Ramshuk.”

  “Obviously,” Garnuk replied.

  “You are traitors to our race!”

  “Not quite,” Tarq grunted. “Just traitors to the Usurper who claims to be a Ramshuk.”

  Ruekig frowned, confused. Garnuk stepped in before the commander could ask another question.

  “What you see here is an effort to preserve what is left of our people,” he explained. “The Usurper has put all of us at risk by exposing the vertaga in a war that we cannot win. We have not hindered his war effort, but we have manipulated it, trying to force both sides into a stalemate. That way, we retain our ancestral halls in the Fells and are not slaughtered by the Sthan.”

  The commander scowled at Garnuk. “You preserve our race by kidnapping and torturing the officers of the Ramshuk?”

  “You have not been tortured,” Garnuk said flatly. “And you will not be harmed at all unless you continue to annoy me. We want information, so we can end this war while there is still something left to save.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “You don’t have to, you just have to answer our questions, the Exile growled. “Now, do you know anything about the dragon? Where did it come from?”

  The commander flinched. “I know nothing,” he muttered unconvincingly, his eyes darting away from Garnuk and back. “I cannot help you.”

  “We need to know everything about that beast,” Garnuk pressed. “It has to be defeated if the vertaga are to survive another battle.”

  “Or turned,” Tarq added.

  The commander snorted bitterly. “The dragon will not turn. It hates vertaga.”

  G
arnuk sat back, confused. “Why would the beast have a specific reason to hate vertaga?”

  “You have seen how the varloug prans were harnessed for this war,” Ruekig said in a hollow voice. “How the butcher enslaved them, bent them to the Ramshuk’s will. The dragon was a similar project. Only, the commander in charge of that effort failed. It escaped, somehow, and now is seeking retribution for its suffering at our hands.” He looked up into Garnuk’s eyes, fear burning in his own. “It cannot be stopped or even slowed. It will come for all vertaga, burn every hall and village, until nothing remains.”

  Chapter 46:

  A New Master

  “What do you think?” Garnuk asked Tarq, having withdrawn a few paces from Ruekig.

  “I think the problem of the dragon just got worse, if that was at all possible,” Tarq muttered.

  “I agree,” Garnuk replied. “At least we know the full story now. Or more of it. Where did the Usurper find the dragon in the first place?”

  “Why? Do you want to unleash another one on this world?” Tarq growled.

  “Not particularly. But maybe it would take care of the other dragon for us.”

  “Or it could join with the first one and we’d have twice as many problems. Besides, I’m guessing only the Usurper knows where he found the dragon. And it’s not information that he is likely to share. Think about it, if word got out that there was a place that these flaming monstrosities could be found, every vertag with dreams of power would scheme for one and do their best to assert dominance over our race.”

  Garnuk nodded thoughtfully. “A good point,” he allowed. “So, if we want to find more dragons we would have to go through the Usurper, but we probably don’t want more dragons in the first place.”

  “Correct,” Tarq agreed, nodding decisively.

  “And if we want to protect our people . . . what are our options?”

  “Not many,” the captain murmured, gazing out over the small camp. “Not with the limited forces we have.”

  Garnuk glanced east, towards the West Bank, contemplating what he knew. As he did, the Exile noticed a solitary figure running towards the camp. A vertag.