‘Ages ago, my people lived in small, scattered villages throughout these mountains, and the hills below. We had no cities, gathering in moot twice a year. To protect our herds from predators, we bred these, the Beasthounds. His master was the Beasthunter. The dogs were bred to a size to give even a cave bear pause.’ He indicated the folds of skin around the eyes. ‘The dog will set teeth in an opponent’s neck, these folds channelling blood away from his eyes. And he will not release that hold until the opponent’s dead, or his master commands. This spiked collar prevents a larger predator from biting it about the neck.’
Locklear looked astonished. ‘Larger! That thing’s near the size of a pony!’
Baru smiled at the exaggeration. ‘They used them to hunt wyverns.’
Locky asked, ‘What’s a wyvern?’
Jimmy answered. ‘A small, stupid dragon – only about twelve feet high.’ Locky looked to the others to see if Jimmy was joking. Baru shook his head, indicating he wasn’t.
Martin said, ‘That man there was his master?’
‘Most likely,’ agreed Baru. ‘See the black leather armour and coif. In his pack you should find an iron mask, with leather bands for the head, so he can wear it over the coif. My father had such in his lodge, a reminder of the past handed down from our ancestors.’ He glanced about and sighted something over by the fallen trolls. ‘There, fetch that.’
Locklear ran over and came back with a giant crossbow. He handed it over to Martin, who whistled aloud. ‘That’s the damnedest thing.’
‘It’s half again the size of the heaviest crossbow I’ve ever seen,’ remarked Roald.
Baru nodded in agreement. ‘It is called a Bessy Mauler. Why it is named after Bessy is not known, but it is indeed a mauler. My people used to employ a Beasthunter at every village, to protect the herds from lions, cave bears, griffins, and other predators. When the Kingdom came to Yabon, and your nobles built cities and castles, and your patrols rode out and pacified the countryside, the need for a Beasthunter lessened, then died out. The Beasthounds were also allowed to diminish in size, bred as pets and to hunt smaller game.’
Martin put down the crossbow. He examined a quarrel the man had in a hip quiver. It was steel-tipped and twice the size of a normal bolt. ‘This looks like it would punch a hole through a castle wall.’
Baru smiled slightly. ‘Not quite, but it will put a dent the size of your fist in a wyvern’s scales. It might not kill the wyvern, but it would make him think twice about raiding a herd.’
Arutha said, ‘But you say there are no more Beasthunters.’
Baru patted the dog on the head and stood. ‘Or so it was supposed. Yet there lies one.’ He was silent for a long moment. ‘When the Kingdom came to Yabon, we were a loose association of clans, and we were divided on our treatment of your people. Some of us welcomed your ancestors, some did not. For the most part, we Hadati kept to our old ways, living in the highlands and herding our sheep and cattle. But those in the towns quickly were absorbed as your countrymen came in increasing numbers, until there was little difference between Yabon city men and those of the Kingdom. Laurie and Roald are born of such stock. So Yabon became Kingdom.
‘But some resented the Kingdom, and resistance became open war. Your soldiers came in numbers, and the rebellion was quickly crushed. But there is a story, not well believed, that some chose neither to bow before the King nor fight. Rather they chose to flee, going north to new homes beyond the control of the Kingdom.’
Martin regarded the dog. ‘Then it may be the story is true.’
‘So it seems,’ said Baru. ‘I think I have distant kin out here somewhere.’
Arutha studied the dog for a moment. ‘And we find allies. These trolls were Murmandamus’s servants, certainly, and this man was their foeman.’
‘And the enemy of our enemy is our ally,’ said Roald.
Baru shook his head. ‘Remember, these people fled the Kingdom. They may have little love yet for you, Prince. We may be exchanging one trouble for another.’ The last was added with a wry smile.
Arutha said, ‘We have no choice. Until we know what lies beyond these mountains, we must seek out whatever aid chance brings us.’ He permitted a brief pause while the body of the fallen Beasthunter was covered with rocks, forming a rude cairn. The dog stood stoically while this was being done. When it was finished, the dog refused to move, laying his head upon his master’s grave.
‘Do we leave him?’ asked Roald.
‘No,’ answered Baru. Again he spoke in the odd tongue, and reluctantly the dog came to his side. ‘The language used to command our dogs must be still the same, for he obeys.’
‘How, then, do we proceed?’ asked Arutha.
‘With caution, but I think it best to let him lead us,’ answered the hillman, indicating the dog. He spoke a single word, and the dog’s ears perked and he began trotting up the trail, waiting at the limit of their vision for them to follow.
Quickly they mounted and Arutha said, ‘What did you say?’
Baru said, ‘I said “home”. He will lead us to his people.’
• Chapter Nine •
Captives
The wind howled.
The riders pulled cloaks tightly about themselves. They had been following the Beasthound for more than a week. Two days after finding the dog they had passed over the crest of the Great Northern Mountains. Now they moved along a narrow trail just below a high ridge, running toward the northeast.
The dog had come to accept Baru as his master, for he obeyed every command the Hadati gave, while he ignored any spoken by the others. Baru called the dog Blutark, which he said meant, in the old Hadati tongue, an old friend rediscovered or come back from a long journey. Arutha hoped it was a favourable omen, and that those who bred the dog would feel similarly toward Arutha’s company.
Twice the dog had proven useful, signalling dangers along the trail. He could smell what even Baru and Martin’s hunters’ eyes missed. Both times they had surprised goblins camped along the trail. It was clear that Murmandamus controlled this route into the Northlands. Both encounters had taken place at junctions with trails clearly heading downward.
The trail had run southeasterly from Inclindel, then turned east, hugging the north side of the mountain ridges. In the distance they could see the vast reaches of the Northlands, and they wondered. To most men of the Kingdom, ‘the Northlands’ was a convenient label for that unknown place the other side of the mountains, the nature of which could only be speculated upon. But now they could see the Northlands below them, and the reality of the place dwarfed any speculation, for it was an immense reality. To the northwest a vast plain stretched away into the distant mists, the Thunderhell. Few men of the Kingdom had ever trod upon that grassy domain, and then only with the consent of the nomads who called the Thunderhell home. At the eastern edge of the Thunderhell a range of hills rose, and beyond were lands never seen by men of the Kingdom. Each turn in the road, each jog in the trail, and a new vista opened before them.
That the dog refused to descend caused them concern, for Martin avowed they would have more cover in the hills below than upon this open trail. Weaving along the north ridges of the mountains, they only now and then descended below the timberline. Upon three occasions they had noticed indications that this trail was not entirely natural, as if someone had once, long ago, undertaken to connect sections of it.
Not for the first time, Roald remarked, ‘That hunter wandered quite a distance from home, that’s for certain.’ They were easily a hundred miles to the east of where they had found the body.
Baru said, ‘Yes, and that is a strange thing, for the Beasthunters were given the defence of an area. Perhaps he had been pursued for some time by those trolls.’ But he knew, as did the others, that such a pursuit would be a matter of miles, not tens of miles. No, there was another reason that hunter had been so far from his home.
To pass the time, Arutha, Martin, and the boys had undertaken to learn Baru’s Hadati dialect, against the
day of meeting Blutark’s owner’s kin. Laurie and Roald spoke fluent Yabonese and a smattering of the Hadati patois already, so it came quickly to them. Jimmy had the most difficulty, but he was able to make simple sentences.
Then Blutark came bounding back down the trail, his stubby tail wagging furiously. In atypical behaviour he barked loudly, and spun in place. Baru said, ‘It is strange…’
The dog normally went on point when sensing danger, until he was attacked or ordered to attack by Baru. Baru and Martin rode past the others, the Hadati ordering the dog forward. Blutark dashed ahead, around a bend between high walls of stone, as the trail cut downward again.
They rounded the turn and pulled up, for in a clearing Blutark faced another Beasthound. The two dogs sniffed at each other and wagged tails. But behind the second dog stood a man in black leather armour, an odd iron mask over his face. He sighted at them down a Bessy Mauler, mounted upon a single long wooden pole. He spoke, the words made unintelligible by the blowing wind.
Baru raised his hands and shouted something, most of the words lost upon the others, but his friendly intentions clear. Suddenly, from above, nets descended, ensnaring all seven riders. A dozen brown-leather-clad soldiers leaped down upon them, and quickly wrestled Arutha’s party from their mounts. In short order all seven were trussed up like game birds. The man in black armour broke down his pole, folding it, and slung it with the crossbow across his back. He approached and gave his own dog and Blutark both friendly pats.
The sound of horses accompanied another detachment of men in brown, this time riders. One of the men in brown spoke to them, in heavily accented King’s Tongue. He said, ‘You will come with us. Do not speak aloud, or we will gag you. Do not try to escape, or we will kill you.’
Baru nodded curtly to his companions, but Roald began to say something. Instantly hands jammed a gag into his mouth and tied a cloth over his face, silencing him. Arutha looked about, but only nodded to the others. The captives were roughly placed back in their saddles, their feet tied to their stirrups. Without further words the riders turned back down the trail, leading Arutha and the others along.
For a day and a night they rode. Short halts were ordered to rest the horses. While the horses were being tended, Arutha and his companions would have their bindings loosened to lessen the cramping they were all experiencing. A few hours after they had set out, Roald’s gag was removed, much to his relief, but it was clear their captors wouldn’t permit them to speak.
After dawn they could see they had negotiated nearly half the distance between the trail along the crest of the mountains and the foothills below. They passed a small herd of cattle, with three watchful and armed herdsmen who waved, and approached a walled hill community.
The outer wall was sturdy, heavy logs lashed together and sealed with dried mud. The horsemen were forced to make a circular approach by deep trenches about the wall, coming up the hill on a switchback trail. On both sides of the trail the trenches revealed fire-hardened wooden spikes, ready to impale any horseman who faltered. Roald looked about and whispered, ‘They must have some charming neighbours.’
One of the guards immediately rode in next to him, the gag ready, but the leader waved him back as they approached the gate. The gate swung open, and they discovered a second wall behind the first. There was no barbican, but the entire area between the walls was effectively a killing ground. As they passed through the second gate, Arutha admired the simple craftsmanship. A modern army could take this village quickly, but it would cost lives. Bandits and goblins would be repulsed easily.
Inside the walls, Arutha observed his surroundings. It was a village of no more than a dozen huts, all of wattle-and-daub construction. In the compound, children played, but with serious eyes. They wore gambeson armour or, in the case of a few of the older children, leather. All carried daggers. Even the old men were armed, and one hobbled past using a spear instead of a walking staff. The leader of the company said, ‘Now you may speak, for the rules of the trail do not apply here.’ He continued to speak King’s Tongue. His men cut the straps binding the captives’ feet to the stirrups and helped them dismount. He then motioned for them to enter a hut.
Inside, Arutha and the others faced the commander of the patrol. Blutark, who had continued to run at Baru’s side, lay at the Hadati’s feet, his large tongue lolling out as he panted.
‘That dog is a rare breed, of particular importance to our people,’ said the commander of the patrol. ‘How do you come to have him?’
Arutha nodded to Baru. ‘We found his master killed by trolls,’ said the Hadati. ‘We killed the trolls and the dog chose to come with us.’
The man considered. ‘Had you harmed his master, that dog would have killed you or died in the attempt. So I must believe you. But that breed is trained to obey only a few. How do you command?’
The hillman spoke a word and the dog sat up, ears perked. He spoke another and the dog lay down, at rest. ‘My village had dogs of similar breed, though not so large as this.’
The commander’s eyes narrowed. ‘Who are you?’
‘I am Baru, called the Serpentslayer, of Ordwinson’s family of the Iron Hills Clan. I am Hadati.’ He spoke in the Hadati patois as he loosened his long bedroll and removed his tartan and swords.
The commander nodded. He answered in a language similar enough to Baru’s that the others could understand. The differences between the two languages seemed mainly to be pronunciation and otherwise trivial. ‘It has been many years since one of our Hadati kin has come over the mountains, Baru Serpentslayer, nearly a generation. This explains much. But men of the Kingdom usually come here to cause mischief and of late we’ve had more than our share of such men. I think you other than renegades, but this is a matter for the Protector’s wisdom.’ He rose. ‘We shall rest here tonight, then tomorrow we shall depart. Food will be brought. There is a bucket for night soil in the corner. Do not leave this hut. Should you attempt it, you will be bound, should you resist, killed.’
As he reached the door, Arutha asked, ‘Where are you taking us?’
The man looked back. ‘Armengar.’
At first light they rode out, heading downward out of the highlands into a heavy forest, Blutark loping along easily beside Baru’s horse. Their captors again instructed them not to speak, but their weapons had been returned. To Arutha it seemed their captors assumed they would act as comrades on the road should trouble start. As the only likely encounters would be with Murmandamus’s servants, Arutha thought it a safe assumption. It was clear the forest had been logged in places, and the path seemed one used regularly. Coming out of a stand of woods, they passed a meadow where a small herd of cattle grazed, with three men standing watch. One was the Beasthunter, who had left the village the night before. The others were herdsmen, but each was armed with a spear, sword, and shield.
Twice more that day, they passed herds, one of cattle, one of sheep. All were tended by warriors, several of whom were women. They came at sundown to another village and were given a place to stay, again with instructions not to leave the building.
The morning of the next day, the fourth of their captivity, they entered a shallow canyon, following a river out of the mountains. They paralleled its course until past noon, then came to a long rise. The road circled around a large hill rather than follow the river, which cut its way through the rock, so their view of all below them was blocked for nearly an hour. When they cleared the hill, Arutha and his friends all exchanged glances in silent wonder.
The leader of the party, who they had learned was called Dwyne, turned and said, ‘Armengar.’
The city could not be seen in detail, but what could be seen was staggering. The outer wall was a full fifty or sixty feet high. Bartizans atop the wall were placed every fifty feet or so, allowing overlapping fields of fire for archers placed in them. As they closed upon the wall, more details emerged. The barbican was immense, fully a hundred feet across. The gates seemed more like movable sections of th
e wall than gates. The river they had followed out of the mountains became a moat that flowed along the wall, not giving more than a foot of ground between its bank and the base of the wall.
As they approached the city, the gates opened with surprising swiftness given their ponderous appearance, and a company of riders appeared from within. They rode at good pace toward Arutha’s escorts. As the two companies passed, the riders of each raised right hands in salute. Arutha saw they were attired in identical fashion. Men and women both wore leather coifs over their heads. Their armour was leather or chain, with no plate in view. Each wore a sword and carried a shield, and spears and bows appeared in equal proportion. There were no tabards or devices upon shields. Soon they were past, and Arutha’s attention returned to the city. They were crossing a bridge, which appeared to be permanent, over the moat.
As they entered the city gate, Arutha caught a glimpse of a banner flying from an outer corner of the barbican. He could discern only its colours, gold and black, not its markings, but something about that banner caused him to feel an instant’s disquiet. Then the outer gates were closing. They seemed to swing shut of their own accord, and Martin said, ‘There must be some mechanism that moves them from within the walls.’ Arutha only watched silently. ‘You could have a full hundred, hundred fifty horsemen sally forth without opening the inner gates,’ said Martin as he regarded the size of the killing ground in the barbican. Arutha nodded. It was the largest he had ever seen. The walls seemed an impossible thirty feet thick. Then the inner gates swung open and they entered Armengar.
The city was separated from the walls by a bailey a hundred yards wide. Then began a tightly packed array of buildings, shot through with narrow streets. There was nothing like the broad boulevards of Krondor in sight, and no signs upon any building betraying its purpose. They followed their escort and noticed that few people loitered about the doorways. If there were businesses here, they were not apparent to Arutha’s companions. Everywhere they looked, the people walked in armour and wore weapons. Only once did they see an exception to the armour, a woman obviously in the late stages of pregnancy, yet her belt sash held a dagger. Even children who looked above the age of seven or eight were under arms.
The Riftwar Saga Page 149
