by Pedro Urvi
“We’ve got no proof of that,” Lasgol said.
“The agents who are trying to kill Egil are Zangrians,” Gerd pointed out.
“It’s a hunch I have.”
“But without evidence…”
“I trust my hunches,”
“Yeah, because they’re always right,” Lasgol said teasingly.
“Not always, I admit, but I’d rather follow a hunch than wander around blindly not knowing where the attack’s coming from.”
“We need evidence that shows clearly who wants us dead.”
“I wonder what we’ll do the day no-one wants to kill one of us,” said Viggo. “Especially the weirdo and the know-it-all.”
“We could all go fishing by some quiet lake,” Gerd said eagerly.
“Yeah, that sounds really interesting,” Viggo shot back, looking utterly bored.
Lasgol laughed. “First let’s try to find out who wants to kill us and get this problem sorted out. Then we can go fishing, or whatever.”
“All right,” said Viggo.
“Very much all right,” said Gerd.
“Right, then. What are you going to do now, Viggo? Coming to the fort with us?”
Viggo shook his head. “I can’t. I have to go back to Orten’s castle. Besides, nobody must know what I’ve done, or even the fact that I’ve been here. It’s secret, on pain of death, at my own hand. In fact, I’d have to kill you both, because you know what I’ve just done and who ordered it.”
Lasgol and Gerd exchanged looks of disbelief.
“But today I’m feeling magnanimous. I’m not going to kill you.”
Gerd made a gesture of wiping imaginary sweat from his forehead. “Thank goodness.”
“I was worried sick,” Lasgol said with feigned horror.
“Aren’t I charming, really?” Viggo asked with a huge smile of satisfaction.
“You’re a pain!” both Lasgol and Gerd said in unison.
Chapter 32
For two more weeks, Commander Emarson had Lasgol and Gerd watching the Zangrian war camp. At the end of the first week, half the enemy army had broken camp and gone southwards, toward the Zangrian capital. By halfway through the second week, there was not a single soldier left at the site.
“What news have you brought me today?” the Commander asked. Gerd and Lasgol had crossed the border to check on the movements of the Zangrian forces in the area, and had just returned.
“Not much, sir,” Gerd reported. “The war camp is deserted, and there’s no trace of any significant contingent of troops anywhere on the southeastern border.”
Emarson nodded. He seemed pleased. “I’ve had reports that the reason for the Zangrian troops’ withdrawal is the murder of General Ganzor on his way to the camp. Or perhaps in the camp itself, though I find this hard to believe. Do you have any proof of this? Did you find any evidence to back it up?”
Gerd and Lasgol exchanged unobtrusive glances and shook their heads.
“We don’t know anything about it, sir,” Lasgol said, trying to hide the fact that he was lying. It was not something he was any good at. He would have preferred not to have to, but explaining their encounter with Viggo would put their friend in a difficult position. The missions entrusted to Natural Assassins were secret, and Duke Orten would not appreciate this secret being revealed, not even to a Commander of his own army. It was not good business for it to be known who ordered murders, and what kind they were – not even for Orten, whose reputation was appalling.
“Aren’t there any further signs of activity?”
“We’ve found some patrols, but they’re the usual ones,” Gerd explained. “They keep watch on the border just as we do. Apart from them, we haven’t noticed anything out of the ordinary.”
“That makes me feel easier. For a moment I thought the Zangrians were going to attack. The death of their general, however it may have come about, gives us a respite which we badly need. I’ll inform Duke Orten of the situation. You two keep patrolling the border on both sides, in case it’s a trick and they’re playing cat-and-mouse with us.”
For another week they kept careful watch on the border in case the Zangrians were setting up a trap for them and they fell into it through overconfidence, but they found nothing. No trace of the Zangrian army. Viggo had been right: the death of the general had been a major setback. They would have to wait and see how they would react. Lasgol suspected that King Caron and his nobles were not going to forgive the murder of one of their most illustrious generals, or allow it to go uncontested, and the consequences were not likely to be at all pleasant.
“I don’t fully trust those Zangrians,” the Commander said, sounding relieved, “but for now it looks as though everything’s calm.”
“We’ll keep a watch, just in case,” Gerd said.
The Commander shook his head. “No, not you two. I have new orders for the two of you.” He handed them a scroll, and Lasgol and Gerd read what was written on it.
“They’re sending us to Duke Oslevan’s castle,” Lasgol said. “I don’t understand…”
“I’ve no idea where that is,” said Gerd.
“In the Duchy of Levanberg. It’s the easternmost county, on the border with the West of the kingdom.”
“Oh…” Lasgol was beginning to understand. “They’re sending us to the battlefront…”
The Commander nodded. “The King has summoned all his Rangers.”
“So… this can only mean it’s the beginning of the great offensive against the West that we’ve all heard everyone talking about,” said Gerd.
“It looks like it. I can’t confirm or deny it.”
“Are you coming with us, Commander?” Gerd asked.
“Unfortunately not. My orders are to look after the border and keep watch on the Zangrians. It’s going to be a lot more difficult without you two, obviously, but we’ll go on carrying out our duty.”
“Thank you, sir,” Gerd said. He had noticed the officer’s compliment, which was unusual in him.
“I’ve always had a high opinion of the Rangers, more than ever now that I’ve worked with you two. You’re both exceptional. I wish my men were half as skilled as you are… well, anyway, I’ll get by.”
Both Gerd and Lasgol felt honored by his words. “Good luck, sir,” Lasgol said.
“Good luck to you both. Take care at the front.”
Lasgol and Gerd withdrew to rest at the far end of the barracks, which the soldiers had kindly let them have for their own use. It was the best spot because it was the quietest, and they were able to relax there. At the entrance there was a great deal of bustle, with people coming in and going out all the time, and in addition the bunks at that end were less often used and hence were in better condition. It touched Lasgol that the soldiers should have let them have the best place to rest, because it meant that they respected them. Not so much for being who they were – they had hardly talked with them – but for the work they did: because they were Rangers. The soldiers were aware of what they brought with them, and that they saved lives with their knowledge and skills.
“What do you think?” Gerd asked Lasgol when they lay down to sleep. He looked worried.
“That the offensive is beginning at last. That’s the only reason I can think why the King should have decided to summon all his Rangers. The Commander didn’t want to acknowledge it openly, so he must have had orders to keep it secret. I think it’s quite clear.”
“They’re sending us to war,” Gerd said, downcast.
“We knew this day would come. It was inevitable. Thoran was going to go against the West sooner or later, and we’re his Rangers.”
“I know. I’d like things to be different… for us not to be involved… because of everything that brings with it. Not only going to war, but because of Egil… because of his family…”
“Yeah, I feel the same. I don’t want to go to war, especially considering it’s against our brothers from the West, against Egil’s family.”
“W
hat are we going to do, Lasgol?” Gerd asked, and in his voice, his friend could hear the doubts in his heart.
“I think each one of us is going to have to look into his own soul and decide when the time comes.”
“I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, and I still don’t know what to do. I’m a Ranger, my farm’s in an eastern county, I serve the King…”
“But you don’t want to go against Egil and his family.”
The big guy nodded. On his face it was easy to see the torment his heart was suffering. Whichever option he chose, it was going to hurt him deeply.
“I don’t know what to do… what about you?”
“I… I don’t think I’ll know until the moment comes.”
“You’re from the West, and you’re Egil’s closest friend, the son of ... you know…”
“You think because of all that, I’ll lean towards the West?”
“Yeah, I think so…”
“I’m also a Ranger, a Specialist, and I serve the King.”
“He’s not a good King. He shouldn’t even be the King, by descent.”
“But the fact is, that he is the King. We don’t choose who rules. We serve whoever does. Whoever he may be, because we serve the country, Norghana.”
“So, you’ll support Thoran?”
“I haven’t said that. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I have the same doubts, and I feel just as divided as you do.”
“I thought, that out of all of us, you’d be the clearest about this.”
“Partly I am, partly not. It’s funny how honor and duty make you see things differently, even those things that seem obvious.”
“Yes, it is…”
“Stop turning it over, rest. Tomorrow we leave, and the journey’s going to be a long one. If you can’t sleep, just think that you’ll do the right thing when it really matters. That’s what I do, and it helps me to fall asleep.”
“Thanks, pal.”
“No, my friend, thank you.”
“Me? What for?”
“For being such a kind person and such a good friend.”
“Thank you, Lasgol,” Gerd said, blushing.
“Sleep well, big guy.”
The two friends slept, wishing they did not have to face the terrible decision they knew they must make.
The following day they gathered together their gear and set off, leaving the fort and the Zangrian frontier behind, with their gaze set on the northwest. The two friends, far from being in high spirits, were downcast. On the other hand, Ona and Camu were delighted. New landscapes, new discoveries and a load of adventures awaited them. Lasgol would have to explain that they were going to a war and what this meant, but he decided to leave it until later. He did not feel up to it at the moment.
The journey to the Duchy of Levanberg turned out to be very entertaining. Gerd enjoyed the company of Ona and Camu immensely, and they certainly loved him. They spent every moment of rest playing, and even as they travelled, Gerd played with them from his mount. He had asked Lasgol to teach him a few of the basic commands he used with Ona. Lasgol had obliged with pleasure, although he was not sure whether the panther was going to heed him, since according to Elder Gisli, familiars only obeyed their Whisperers. Gerd started by giving orders to Ona to do small things, presenting this as a game. At first the panther simply ignored him, but he went on trying with his good humor and optimism. To Lasgol’s surprise she began to obey the giant, who could not have been happier about his success. There was no doubt that Gerd had a special gift with animals.
With Camu, he played his little friend’s favorite game: hide-and-seek. Camu would go ahead and hide among the trees. He would come out shrieking from his hiding-place as if he were a highway robber attacking them. The first couple of times Gerd let him win, but then he began to find him, which Camu did not like. He hated to lose, so he cheated and used his power to camouflage himself. Lasgol realized this and pointed it out to Gerd, who was not happy with Camu using his magic. He still could not get over his deep-rooted fear of magic and the arcane.
Camu noticed that something was up with his big playmate, who had stopped playing with him and turned serious.
What happen with Gerd?
You cheated, Lasgol explained.
No cheat.
If you play hide-and-seek using magic, that’s cheating.
Magic mine, no cheat.
If you play against a human without magic it is. You have an advantage he doesn’t.
Oh.
You understand?
I understand.
I’m glad.
Gerd angry?
He’s not angry. He’s… worried… he’s afraid.
Afraid?
He’s afraid of magic.
Like Nilsa?
Well, not exactly like Nilsa. She hates it. Gerd fears it, that’s different.
Yes, different.
It’s better if you don’t use your power in front of them.
And if danger?
Then yes, absolutely.
My magic good.
I know. But you yourself say that other people’s magic isn’t, and you try to counter it.
Yes, but mine good.
Fine. Yours is good and other people’s isn’t. Understood, Lasgol conceded so as not to argue any more with his little friend, who had a peculiar sense of what was good or evil, particularly with regard to magic.
Camu traveled on beside Gerd’s mount and spent the day bouncing and capering and dancing until the big guy smiled. By the next day they were the best of friends again and went on playing like two giant children, which Lasgol had the impression that they were.
He was very much enjoying Gerd’s company. The giant was a delightful person, someone to go to the end of the world with, an excellent companion for any adventure. Of all his comrades, he was the easiest to get along with. He never made any trouble, and was always happy and willing to help. It was true that every once in a while his fears would creep back, but Lasgol was already used to this and knew how to soothe him. He was not always successful, but he was beginning to think there was more hope.
At last they came to the Duchy of Levanberg, the westernmost territory under the control of the nobles of the East. In the distance they could make out Duke Oslevan’s castle on top of a hill, dominating an expanse of flat green land. Great stretches of woodland further to the east completed the landscape.
“D’you know anything about the Duke?” Gerd asked Lasgol.
“Nothing, apart from the fact that he’s one of the eastern dukes.”
“I wonder what he’ll turn out to be like.”
“Well… being a duke and from the East…”
Gerd laughed out loud. “Yeah, better not to know.”
Lasgol smiled. “Exactly.”
It was not long before they glimpsed the duke’s forces, posted outside the castle, to the south. More than five hundred tents, which must have held around two thousand soldiers: a considerable force.
When they arrived at the camp, they identified themselves as Rangers and were let through.
“Report to Captain Lenson in the command tent,” the sergeant in charge of the watch patrol told them. “Access to the castle is closed by order of the Duke.”
They went on to the castle, which rose impressively to dominate the surrounding land.
“I wouldn’t mind being the lord of a castle like this,” Gerd commented.
Lasgol looked at the castle and wrinkled his nose. “D’you really want to be a bad-tempered, noble despot?”
“Well, no, not really…”
“Well, to be the lord of that castle that’s what you’d have to be.”
Gerd smiled. “In that case I’d rather be a merry Ranger.”
“That’s what I thought. If you want a castle, a duchy or a county, remember you’d need to deal with all the responsibilities it involves. Going by what Egil’s told me about his family, there are plenty of those, and they’re pretty unpleasant. I don�
�t think you or I were made to deal with certain things that being a member of the nobility requires.”
“I only wanted the castle… it’s awesome.”
“So it is. But like everything that glitters in this world, there’s a price to be paid for owning it.”
“A price that requires us to do rather unworthy things.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“In that case I don’t want it.”
Lasgol smiled. “Nor do I. I’m happy with my friends.” He glanced at Camu and Ona, then at Gerd, with a broad smile on his face.
On their way to the camp they watched the soldiers working non-stop in front of the castle. They were everywhere.
“I wonder why they’re not all safely sheltered inside the castle,” Gerd commented.
“That’s a good question. I don’t really know. I guess it means they’re going to leave soon and they’re already organizing the war camp.”
“Yeah, that’s logical.”
“Besides, that castle isn’t big enough to house all these troops.”
“No? To me it looks pretty big and solid. It has three round towers and a good courtyard. At least that’s what it looks like from here.”
“Yeah, big guy, but the barracks must hold a thousand men, so where are the rest of them supposed to sleep? On the battlements? In the courtyard?”
“Oh… I see…”
“It’s one thing for them to get inside, a very different one for them to be able to live in there. If a superior force attacks them, they’ll go inside and take cover within the castle. But if there’s no threat, all those men inside the fortress would get in the way of the daily tasks and they wouldn’t be able to rest or get their jobs done.”
Gerd gave him one of his friendly slaps on the back. “Wow, you sound like a true military strategist.”
“I think I’ve spent too much time with Egil, and these things have rubbed off.” Lasgol had almost fallen off Trotter under the impact of his friend’s caress.
As soon as they entered the camp, they knew that the soldiers were getting ready to leave. They were loading weapons, provisions and water on to carts pulled by mules and oxen. Various sergeants were urging their men to work faster. From the shouts of the non-commissioned officers, Lasgol guessed that their departure must be imminent.
