by Pedro Urvi
Lasgol chuckled. I wish I could, but I think you have to be born with it. You either have it or you don’t.
Can’t?
I’m afraid not.
Sad.
I know. I’d like to communicate with her both ways too.
I send message.
No!
No?
She’s still not ready to receive messages from you. She’s had enough for today. We’ll try that by and by.
Tomorrow?
Lasgol smiled. Don’t be impatient. We don’t want to confuse and frighten her anymore.
Tomorrow.
Don’t insist. I’ll tell you when.
When?
Lasgol rolled his eyes. When I tell you that you can, and this time, do as I say!
Camu did not seem too convinced. Lasgol feared he would try to communicate with Ona on his own, in spite of the prohibition. It was not as if he paid him all the attention he ought to or followed his orders even half the time. Luckily Camu behaved very well and did not try to communicate mentally with Ona during the following two days.
They continued on their way toward the Peak of the White Owl. Lasgol found new tracks, and these he was able to identify. They were those of Wild Ones of the Ice: a dozen of them, on patrol. Things were beginning to turn dangerous, so he was as careful as possible, always seeking to follow whichever route offered the best shelter and allowed them to hide most effectively. It was harder to move, but this way they did not risk being seen. Lasgol sent Ona searching in advance to warn him if she found tracks, or the presence of the Wild Ones. Camu could do it too, but he trusted the creature less. He was capable of following them instead of coming back to report. Ona was more obedient, and he trusted her more.
With dawn, they reached the foot of the peak. There were ominous trails of blood. Very carefully, he went up the side of the peak. As he was reaching the summit, he glimpsed a figure hiding behind the rocks.
Ona growled in warning and took up a position ready to attack. Camu camouflaged himself.
Lasgol nocked an arrow and aimed.
The figure seemed to see Lasgol. Only the top of its head could be seen.
“Who’s there?” it called.
The words were in Norghanian, and Lasgol relaxed. “A Ranger. I’m looking for Captain Martens.”
The figure stood up. “Well, you don’t need to look any further.”
It was a Norghanian soldier, wounded and losing blood which was trickling down his right hand.
“You’re wounded.”
“Yes. Help me and I’ll take you to my Captain.”
Lasgol lowered his bow. “Very well.”
“But I’m not sure we’ll get there alive.”
Chapter 13
The soldier fell back against the rocks with a gesture of pain. He looked as though he was in a bad state.
“My name’s Lasgol. I’ll try to help you.”
“My name’s Uldren. Thanks.”
Lasgol bent over him. “What happened to you?” The soldier was blond, strongly built, forty or so. He looked experienced.
“An explorer. A Tundra Dweller. He climbed up here and I had to dispatch him. This is a meeting point, and has to stay clear. He wounded me with one of his ice javelins.”
Lasgol nodded. “Let me see the wound.”
Uldren showed him his shoulder. “He caught me here,” he grunted. “I didn’t even feel it. The tip brushed past. I thought it was nothing… but it cut me well and deep.”
“I can see that. I’m going to clean the wound and stitch it up. Then I’ll put an ointment on against infections. We have to stop you from losing any more blood.”
Uldren saw Ona approaching and tightened his fist around the handle of his knife. “Is she with you?”
“Yes. She’s my Familiar. She won’t harm you.”
The soldier relaxed his grip, but did not let go of the knife.
“I’d heard of Rangers who have panthers and even tigers. I always thought it was all just exaggeration, to make the Rangers look better than us infantrymen.”
Lasgol smiled. “Well, now you can see it’s no exaggeration.”
“Sure, but you’re not a typical Ranger.”
“I’m pretty run-of-the-mill.” He smiled back as he applied the ointment, he carried in his Ranger’s belt along with his ingredients.
“I mean you’re more than a Ranger. We’ve got two with us, and they’re not like you.”
“I’m a Specialist Ranger.”
“That’s it. A Specialist.”
“Which two Rangers have you got with you?”
“Well… I don’t really know whether they’re still with us. We haven’t seen them for three weeks. The Captain fears we’ll never see them again.”
“Haven’t they reported back?”
“No. They went out exploring. Vilton to the northeastern area and Molsen to the northwest.”
“Areas where there are Wild Ones.”
“And worse things…”
Lasgol thought of Trolls or Ogres. “Is there much movement?”
“Oh, definitely. Something’s going on. It’s not usual to have so many of them, and so active.”
“I see. Lasgol was cleaning the wound. “I’m going to stitch you up now.”
“Go ahead. A little pain cheers the soul,” the soldier said, with a look of resignation.
“Well spoken, Norghanian,” Lasgol said cheerfully as he started to stitch the cut. It was ugly and deep.
Ona was keeping watch, and out of the corner of his eye Lasgol glimpsed the trail Camu was leaving on the snow as he explored the far side of the hill.
Don’t go too far, and be careful.
Keep watch.
If you see anyone, let me know, and then come back at once.
Yes. I know.
Lasgol was not very sure Camu would obey him, but he was busy and had no desire to start arguing with him. He was too stubborn.
It took him a while to stitch and bandage the wound to stop it bleeding.
“There you are. In a few days you’ll be able to move that arm. Until then, don’t make any sudden move or the stitches will split.”
“I’m really grateful.”
“Can you take me to your Captain?”
“Yeah, the camp isn’t very far, and in this state I can’t stay here. I need someone to take over for me.”
“Okay. I’ll help you.”
They set off down the peak. Lasgol called Camu, who began to follow them a few paces back. Ona lagged a little so that she could walk with Camu. Uldren led Lasgol through a forest and a ravine to a rocky area covered with snow. Here they went through a pass between two hills and came out into a clearing.
Ona growled in warning. Lasgol looked ahead and saw several soldiers, armed with bows, appearing between the rocks. They were aiming at them.
“Don’t shoot,” the soldier called out. “It’s me, Uldren, with a Ranger!”
“Uldren, whatever happened to you?” one of the soldiers asked him. He was ugly, with a large moustache and equally massive build. He looked like a sea-lion.
“A bloody Tundra Dweller with good marksmanship, Sergeant.”
“Is this the Ranger we were waiting for?”
“Looks like it.”
“Come through,” said the sergeant. “Is that panther with you, Ranger?”
“Yes, she’s my Familiar.”
“She’d better behave like a good dog.”
“She won’t cause any trouble,” Lasgol assured him.
“Good. You two, help Uldren,” he told the men on watch. “Ranger, you come with me. The camp’s behind those boulders. It’s not visible from the outside. The captain’s been expecting you for a while.”
Lasgol followed the sergeant between the boulders, while two soldiers took charge of Uldren.
Stay outside, he told Camu.
Ona go. I go.
No, stay outside. I don’t want them to spot you.
They not see.
But not see.
Don’t be stubborn. Wait outside until I tell you it’s safe to come in.
I wait. But not happy.
Lasgol snorted under his breath. The last thing he wanted was for Camu to be spotted in the middle of a Norghanian army camp. Things would turn out very badly. And apart from that, he would have trouble enough trying to stop them from attacking Ona.
“You’re young, to be a Specialist,” the Sergeant said to him.
“I’ve only just graduated.
“Then you’re going to love this place.” He winked at him, and his enormous moustache moved from side to side above his mouth. Seeing the gesture, Lasgol knew he was being sarcastic. Decidedly so.
“My name’s Okbek, though everybody calls me Sergeant.”
“Pleased to meet you. My name’s Lasgol.” He offered his hand.
The sergeant smiled at him. “You’re pretty green to have been sent here to us. What did you do? Whose foot did you step on?”
“I don’t understand.”
“That’s because you’re a newbie.”
“I wouldn’t deny it.”
“First mission?”
“Yes…”
The Sergeant stopped in the middle of the narrow rocky pass, which his massive body filled completely, and laughed heartily.
“Then you’ve annoyed someone important.”
“Because they’ve sent me here?”
“Now you’re beginning to understand. They only send us people who’ve screwed up, or else the ones they don’t want to come back.”
“Oh…”
“Which of the two are you?”
“Probably both.”
Okbek laughed again. “I like you. I hope you don’t get killed. Although I doubt very much whether you’ll survive.”
“Things are that bad here?”
“Worse,” said the Sergeant as he came out of the pass.
Lasgol noticed that in spite of his bulk, his movements were agile. When he took a closer look at him, he realized that although he was huge and massively-built, there was plenty of muscle under that layer of fat.
They came out onto a flat patch of land with fifteen or so army tents. From their colors – red and white, in diagonal stripes – Lasgol knew they were soldiers of the Thunder Army. Beyond the tents rose a dense snow-covered forest, and behind it a huge mountain. They had chosen a good site. It would be difficult to find them here, and they were well protected from the hostile climate. There were twenty or so soldiers carrying out different tasks: some felling trees, others chopping wood, some practicing fighting with axe and shield, others sharpening weapons, tending to bows or preparing arrows.
As they came closer to the tents, the soldiers stopped what they were doing to look at Lasgol and Ona.
“What are you gaping at like stuffed dummies?” the sergeant growled.
“That’s a snow panther, Sergeant,” said one of the soldiers, as big as a bear and not particularly intelligent-looking.
“Carry on chopping wood, Irenson, and don’t come near the animal, it belongs to the Ranger.”
Another soldier pointed at Ona with his axe. “Don’t let that animal come near us.”
“She won’t if you don’t bother her.”
“She’d better not,” another soldier said as he honed his knife. He looked quarrelsome and dangerous.
“Nobody is to touch a single hair of that panther,” the Sergeant growled. “Is that clear?”
There were several protests, but nobody contradicted the order openly. It looked as though they respected Okbek.
“This way,” he said to Lasgol, and led him to the largest tent. Two men were on watch duty there, one in front of the tent, the other behind it.
The one at the front nodded. “Sergeant.”
“Tell the captain,” Okbek said.
The soldier nodded, turned, and went into the tent. After a moment he came out.
“You can come in.”
“Come with me.”
“The panther…” the soldier pointed out.
“She goes wherever I go,” Lasgol said.
Okbek nodded, and the soldier left it at that.
The tent was large, but rustic. Inside it a middle-aged man was waiting for them, sitting at a table consulting maps. He was tall, fair and broad-shouldered. Lasgol was struck by the ugly scar on the right of his mouth. It started at the corner and went as far as his hair-line, past his temple. He had grey eyes, and his intelligent gaze was now studying Lasgol and Ona.
“Captain, this is Lasgol, Ranger Specialist. Newbie.”
“Thank you, Okbek. I see,” he replied without taking his eyes off Lasgol, looking him up and down.
“I’ve been ordered to present myself to Captain Martens, sir,” Lasgol said. He handed him his orders.
The Captain read them. “I’d asked for someone good. I was expecting a Ranger with a lot of experience.” There was obvious disappointment in his voice.
“I haven’t any experience, that’s true, but I don’t think I’m bad…”
Okbek laughed out loud. “The hatchling’s got guts.”
“You won’t survive on that around here.”
“Very true,” the Sergeant agreed.
Lasgol said nothing. This was not the welcome he had been expecting.
“Well, you’re what I’ve been sent, so I’ll have to make do with it,” Martens said bad-temperedly.
“And it’s taken him a while to get here.”
“I came as soon as I got my orders.”
“They have most of the Rangers over in the West, preparing the land for the great offensive against Olafstone and his people after the thaw,” Martens said. “There aren’t that many they can do without and send to us. They waited for this one to graduate so they could send him.”
“He’s a Specialist, that’s the good thing,” Okbek said with a wave at Ona.
“Yeah, that’s good. It means he’s better than a regular Ranger. But I’m afraid without experience, up here he won’t last long…”
“I can manage, sir,” Lasgol assured him. Although he did not like the way that sounded, he did not want to be treated as an idiot. “I may be young, but I do have some experience. I was in the invasion of the Frozen Continent, and I’ve fought against Wild Ones of the Ice and Tundra dwellers.”
“Interesting. I wasn’t expecting that. You might be some use to us after all.”
“A cub with blood under his claws. I like it,” the Sergeant said.
“Come over here,” the Captain said, and showed him the map on his table.
“Yes, sir.” Lasgol turned to Ona and ordered her: “Ona. Relax.” He showed her where she had to wait for him, and she sat down there. She was looking at Martens and Okbek without missing a thing. She did not trust them. When Lasgol looked at the map, he recognized the area. It was the northernmost region of the territory of Norghana, where the Wild People of the Ice had their villages, surrounded by sea to the north and east.
Martens put his finger on the eastern area of the coast. “Here’s where the Wild Ones are very active. Ships are coming in from the Frozen Continent.”
“I know the area. I’ve been there.”
Martens and Okbek looked at him in surprise. “You’ve been there?”
“Yes, on a rescue mission when I was training at the Camp.”
“It turns out you’re not so inexperienced after all,” the sergeant said, and slapped Lasgol on the back. Since he was so big, Lasgol felt the ‘friendly’ blow hard. It reminded him of one of his friend Gerd’s ‘caresses’. Ona noticed this and stiffened. She growled.
“Ona. Relax,” Lasgol repeated.
The panther obeyed and sat down again, still staring fixedly at the Sergeant.
“Your panther defends you, huh?” Okbek said as he scratched the large moustache which almost hid his mouth.
“Yes. She
protects me and I protect her.”
“That’s good philosophy.”
“For several weeks now there’s been more movement than usual. Too much. I sent Vilton to investigate, but he hasn’t come back.”
“Right.”
“There’s something wrong, and we need to know whether they’re preparing an invasion or not. We’re here to keep an eye on them and warn the King if it happens.”
“If there’s anybody left to warn,” Okbek put in.
Martens glanced at him reproachfully. “We’ve suffered plenty of losses. I’ve only got twenty men left. There were three times that number when we came here.”
“Wild Ones?”
“Yes, and Dwellers. But there’s something else…”
“Arcanes of the Glaciers?”
The Captain shook his head. “We haven’t seen any Arcanes. So far.”
“What, then?”
“There’s something strange going on… the patrols don’t come back…”
“Do they get captured?”
“No. We find them… dead.”
Okbek shook his head, looking somber. “It’s something dark.”
Lasgol did not like the sound of this. “What do you mean by ‘dark’?”
“Their deaths are strange,” the Captain said.
“There’s no blood,” Lasgol said.
“How do you know?” Martens said, and Okbek looked at him in surprise.
“I found two of your men. Patrol, I’d imagine. Dead in a ravine, south of here. There was no blood…”
“Hell!” cried Okbek. “That was Lingerd and Yastas! I hoped they’d be back before nightfall.”
“I’m sorry.”
Martens shook his head sorrowfully. “We’ve been losing men in strange circumstances. Patrols, scouting missions, and I fear Ranger Molsen as well. I sent him northwest, and he hasn’t come back. I don’t suppose he will. I sent him to investigate the… Frozen Specter…”
“Frozen Specter?” Lasgol asked in surprise. “That sounds like a superstition.”
“That’s what I thought at first. But when you lose half your men in inexplicable circumstances…”
“And then there’s the sightings,” Okbek pointed out.
“It’s been seen?”
“By several men. They swear it’s a Frozen Specter.”
“They say it steals your soul and you die in absolute terror,” said Okbek.
