The Savage Mountains

by Robert Adams

  “You were found sleeping in your room here at the Citadel, and were nowhere seen on the streets tonight, but neither fact absolves you, since I now am aware that there exists a true warren of tunnels connecting the Citadel and various quarters of the city.

  “However, I have put my staff to checking the presumed dates of the recent series of murders and questioning your men as to which nights you took the watch over the vahrohnos. If the two lists coincide, captain, I will assume that you are guilty, if not of duplicity, at least of dereliction of your sworn duties. And that will make me very happy, captain. My father, Lord Hari, and I were denied our just vengeance on your flesh because you were an amnestied officer fulfilling what the High Lord felt to be a valuable function. You cannot be punished for the crimes done in Morguhn, but damn you, I can damned well court-martial you for those things you’ve done or not done whilst under my command.”

  Then, to a guards officer who stood stiffly by the door, “Captain Nahks, the prisoner’s quarters are to be thoroughly searched and all weapons are to be removed from them. Then he will be there confined, with the door bolted and two men to guard it around the clock. Nor is anyone save myself or Master Ahlee to be allowed through his door. See that he is provided a jug of wine and a few rounds of barracks bread; that should serve him until I have enough information to issue you further orders. Now, take him away.”

  Chapter XI

  The camp outside the walls of Vawnpolis first swelled monstrously with the influx of the troops who had been patrolling the border and manning the border forts, then shrank to even smaller limits than its original size as regiments and lesser units took the road for the long march back to Kehnooryos Ehlahs and the sprawling garrison city at Goohm. Hardly were the last of those on their way when most of the Confederation cavalry brigade jingled down from the western mountains to collect the baggage left behind at the commencement of the campaign and spend a few weeks resting and reorganizing.

  Sub-keeleeohstos Gaib Linstahk, now commander of the Fifth Kahtahfrahktoee, eventually made time to call on his old friend Strahteegos Vaskos Daiviz. The preceding summer, while he still commanded only three troops of dragoons, his unit had been sent with Vaskos and Lord Hari to reclaim Horse County of the Duchy of Morguhn for the Confederation. As Gaib’s own sire was a Kindred horse breeder, the three noblemen had easily and quickly become fast friends.

  Vaskos was hard at work when his adjutant announced that a field-grade cavalry officer was in the outer office and requested a few words with the commander of Vawnpolis. What with the various comings and goings of so many units within the environs of the city, Vaskos had endured an endless succession of duty calls. As commander of Vawnpolis, he was the titular senior officer for all of Vawn, and courtesy calls were unavoidable, since no astute major or colonel or keeleeohstos would pass through without taking the opportunity to congratulate Vaskos on his promotion and do a bit of sly apple-polishing at the same time. So Vaskos never inquired this most recent caller’s name or actual rank, nor did he bother to glance up when, with a jingling and jangling, the measured footfalls crossed from the door to a heel-clicking halt before his desk and a fist clanged on breastplate in formal salute.

  “My lord Strahteegos, please accept the heartfelt congratulations of all the officers and troopers of Pehmptos Kahtahfrahktoee, as well as those of their commander, Sub-keeleeohstos Gaib Linstahk, who is my lord’s servant in all honorable ways.”

  Vaskos had peremptorily returned the salute, though his eyes still were fixed on his work. His hand moved back toward his quill pen but stopped abruptly, as the familiar voice penetrated where the maddeningly familiar stock phrases would not. His scarred face suddenly split by a broad grin, he came to his feet, heedless of the heavy chair which crashed over behind him, and rounded the desk to greet Gaib with an armor-crushing hug of sincere welcome.

  With the backslappings and informal, half-insulting felicitations done, Vaskos shouted for his adjutant and soberly promised thirty lashes to anyone who disturbed him with anything less earthshaking than an investment of Vawnpolis or the arrival of the High Lord; then he bolted his door and brought in his hidden jar of honeywine.

  As they sat before the hearth with its fire of hard, bluish coal lumps, Vaskos studied his young friend critically. The cares and worries of command had already begun to leave their unmistakable marks upon the handsome, weather-dark face-furrowed brow, crinkled eyecorners and the beginning of the hard lines at the corners of the mouth, as well as the dark crescents under bloodshot eyes which Vaskos knew he shared. It seemed that the higher an officer’s rank, the less sleep he could count on getting of a night.

  But there were other marks visible, as well. A pink pucker of scar now ran from just below the bridge of the nose to the angle of the jaw, and the smallest finger was missing from Gaib’s bridle hand. For all that returning Freefighters chortled over an all but unopposed foray, it was clear that the kahtahfrahktoee had seen some hard fighting.

  When he had stuffed the clay bowl of a Zahrtohguhn waterpipe, Vaskos’ callused fingers lifted a tiny coal from the hearth, dropped it atop the fragrant tobacco and puffed until it was going well. Then he handed the other mouthpiece to Gaib.

  “Master Ahlee, the physician, you remember him? Well, he gifted me with this contraption. Says that, if smoke I must, this is the only good way to do it The container, here, is filled with brandy, you see, and the smoke is cooled and flavored by it I must admit, I’ve gotten quite fond of the bastard.”

  Gaib blew a smoke ring toward the ceiling and smiled. “You don’t know, truly, how good it is to see you again, Vaskos, or how relieved I am to find that the lord commander of Vawnpolis still is the friend I came to know last summer.”

  Vaskos’ brow wrinkled in puzzlement. “Why shouldn’t I be, Gaib?”

  The cavalryman slapped at the cuff of his jackboot “Sun and Wind, Vaskos, you’ve been a soldier nigh on thirty years; you’ve seen it. Breathing the rarefied air granted to strahteegoee has turned more heads than one, and we both know it. But it’s always good to see the men who can carry high rank with dignity rather than arrogance. You’re a fine man and officer as you are, lord strahteegos, and I’m right proud to call you friend. Were you to metamorphose into one of those strutting, supercilious popinjays that seem to abound in the capital, and sometimes deign to come out to Goohm. I might be some loath to admit I know you.”

  “Scant chance of that, m’boy.” Vaskos took a long draft of wine and grinned. “I weren’t yet sixteen when I enlisted, as a common spearman, and my highest ambition in those days was to make senior sergeant But then some fool officer took me under his wing an’ groomed me proper and next I knew I was a sergeant cadet. Four years later he had me shipped off to Bloozburk an’ here I be. But I’m still that senior sergeant I never got to be, Gaib. Down under, that’s all I’ll ever be, I s’pect.”

  His grin returned then. “But tell me some war stories, Gaib. Tell me about the female who bit off that finger, for instance. For the sake of your lord father, I hope that was all she managed to bite off.” He chuckled.

  Gaib shook his red-blond head ruefully. “For all I can say, some Ahrmehnee did bite the pinky off. I have no memory of receiving the wound, none at all. It wasn’t until everything was done that I even realized it was gone.”

  Vaskos nodded. “Oh, yes, that’s happened to me, too. Happens to most men — you get into a skirmish and —”

  Gaib shook his head, grimly. “This was no skirmish, old friend. It started as a surprise attack, became a full-scale battle and might well have been a near rout but for the incredible bravery of my lord Drehkos and a few score of his rebels, who —”

  Vaskos’ scarred face darkened and there was dull anger in his voice as he growled, “Friend Gaib, amnestied he may be, but to my father and me, he will always be a despicable traitor, and well hear nothing of him, now or in the future.”

  “Oh, no, friend Vaskos.” Gaib disagreed. “Like it or not, you and your fath
er will hear of, and probably from, the Lord Drehkos for the rest of your life.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice conspiratorily. “You must respect the confidential nature of what I am about to tell you, Vaskos, for it’s not yet common knowledge in the expeditionary force. Indeed, I’d not be aware of it myself but that I was once of the Bodyguards and still have many old friends amongst them.

  “Vaskos, your Uncle Drehkos led the heroic defense of our camp that morning, unarmored. His few score rebels fought and held, briefly, two or three thousand Ahrmehnee, and almost all of that scratch force took their death wounds, including your uncle, who was run through the body with a wolfspear.”

  “Good riddance.” Vaskos snarled, “to bad rubbish!

  A restrained awe entered the younger officer’s tone. “But, Vaskos, the Lord Drehkos did not die! He pulled out the spear and by the next morning was sitting his horse beside the High Lady on the march. And she has kept him at her side since.”

  Vaskos’ cup clattered onto the hearth and rolled, hissing and unheeded, into the fire. His widening eyes starting from his suddenly pallid face, he croaked, “Gaib . . . man, do you know what you’re implying?”

  Gaib nodded. “No implication, that, old friend. The guardsmen say that the High Lord and the High Lady have administered every test and both now are satisfied that the Lord Drehkos, your esteemed relative, is of the Undying.”

  “And I say, hogwash!” shouted Vaskos. “Man, my uncle is two years younger than my father and looks a good ten years older. My father, and many another in Morguhn, have known the man all his misspent life. There’s just no way you could possibly have heard the truth.”

  Gaib flavored his reply with a humorless smile. “I thank you for not putting the lie into my mouth, at least But, Vaskos, I talked with guardsmen who assisted in the tests, some of them, anyway. With your uncle’s free consent, dirk blades were thrust into his body rendering fatal wounds, and still he lived. The Lord Milo and the Lady Aldora both are satisfied, why should you not be?”

  * * *

  With the first, green shoots of spring, the High Lord led the last of his regiments down from the western mountains, leaving Fort Kohg — as the castra was now called in honor of the nahkhahrah — manned by a mixed force of Confederation volunteers and native Ahrmehnee warriors, all under the command of Senior Strahteegos Hahfos Djohnz, who now bore the additional title of Lord Warden of the Ahrmehnee Marches, his actions accountable to none save the nahkhahrah and Milo.

  At the High Lord’s side rode the nahkaharah, well pleased with what he had, and would, accomplish for his people. Also, he was pleased that the Lord Milo had chosen Hahfos to be deputy. He felt his people would come to truly love the wise and competent but quiet and unassuming officer, and now that Hahfos was safely wed, by Ahrmehnee rites, to a girl of the Bahrohnyuhn Tribe, he was more or less Ahrmehnee himself. And, the old man mused on, if the Lady did not choose to grant children to him and his own new wife, there could be no complaint from any tribe were he to name as his successor Lord Hahfos’ firstborn son.

  While Drehkos Daiviz, still a little unbelieving that he was truly Undying, listened, Aldora was patiently explaining to the Lady Zehpoor Taishyuhn, new wife of the nahkhahrah, the precise stations of her and her husband.

  “Of the First Rank, there be but three — though there will be four as soon as we reach the capital and dear Drehkos is confirmed a High Lord. Of the Second Rank are such as foreign kings, princes, kahleefahee, and the like. The Third Rank includes such foreign titles as grand duke, or archduke, both of which are the same as our own ahrkeethoheeks; senior strahteegoee hold this rank as long as they remain in the army, as do certain high officials of the Confederation.

  “Since the High Lord has decided that your husband will be ahrkeethoheeks of the Ahrmehnee, he and you will be of the Third Rank, officially. But, actually, you and Kogh are much more valuable to us than any score of ahrkeethoheeksee.”

  Zehpoor looked puzzled. “But, my lady, all of the Ahrmehnee Stahn cannot raise ten thousand warriors, so I cannot understand —”

  “Milo and Mara and I, Zehpoor, are very interested in the many and widely diverse powers of the mind. We have devoted many years of study to them and have even established an academy of sorts to see if people lacking them can be taught to . . . to . . . well, to control their minds sufficiently to unleash powers they did not know they had. Milo can explain the aims of the Academy far better than can I.”

  At a wider place in the trail, Drehkos reined aside and allowed the column to proceed past him until he spied his brother, Komees Hari, at the head of his mixed force of Freefighters, nobles and Moon Maidens. Then he toed his horse out to ride at his brother’s side.

  * * *

  Some week or so after the Night of Fire, Hari and young Sir Geros had led three hundred riders to the castra, having missed the nahkhahrah’s village by dint of faulty maps. With them had come two Ahrmehnee women, to whom Captain Pawl Raikuh owed his life. Many of the column were wounded when they arrived and all were near starvation. Nonetheless, the old komees had lost no time in reporting to the High Lord. And he had been too exhausted even to protest the presence of his despised brother in the High Lord’s pavilion.

  He had detailed the highlights of the forced march, the finding of Raikuh’s butchered force, the approach to and advance onto the plateau. He told of the ruined village and its cruelly massacred inhabitants, then of the witnessed stand of the Ahrmehnee warriors and Moon Maidens against the thousands of barbarians and their monstrous leader.

  At that point, the nahkhahrah had interrupted. “Your pardon, sir. Did you hear this creature addressed, by chance? If so, what was he called?”

  Hari shrugged tiredly. “No, I heard nothing addressed to the giant. But some of the Maidens who rode in with me have mentioned that the Muhkohee’s leader was one Buhbuh.”

  The nahkhahrah nodded. “Thank you, sir.” Then he turned to Milo. “I have never heard of one of that name, though it is a common name amongst the Muhkohee. But this leader your officer describes can be only one of the terrible monsters of whom I told you, the Haidehn Tribe. Since most of them are powerful sorcerers, they are the richest of all the Muhkohee, but they are also cannibals, and no more evil tribe has ever stalked Our Lady’s earth!”

  “Well, sorcerer or not, he soon found his Northorse couldn’t outrun Bili’s Mahvros.” said Hari, grimly. “Nor did either magic or armor keep that great axe out of his flesh. Bili smote him out of the saddle and our squadron rode over his body.”

  The nahkhahrah grunted his approval. Milo asked, “Bili routed near three thousand men with one under-strength squadron, then?”

  Hari’s grin was fierce with pride, though pain was in his eyes. “Aye, my lord, Duke Bili sent the Freefighter bow-masters, under command of Count Tares Duhnbahr of Baikuh, around to the top of the cliff against which the warriors and Maidens were standing at bay. Then, when the barbarian bastards already were reeling under the arrow rain, he led the rest of the squadron athump into their right flank, while my wing took them in the rear. And these little ponies just aren’t built to take the charge of a good warhorse, my lord. Even so, it was a near thing once the momentum of the charge was lost and the squadron was fragmented.

  “But then Duke Bili rallied most of us, reformed, reinforced by Count Taros’ bowmasters along with several troops’ worth of Maidens and Ahrmehnee, and hit the enemy in the left flank. That second charge did it, my lord — they broke and fled southwest, down the slope of that plateau, with us in hot pursuit.

  “And we ran them, my lord. What a chase that were! Kindred and Freefighters and cats, Moon Maidens and Soormehlyuhn warriors, we chivvied and harried the bastards clear to the end of the bloody plateau. I never got the chance to ride back over the route and the battlefield, but I trow not five hundred got away. And we might’ve got more had Bili not stopped the pursuit when he did.

  “It was while we were riding back — rather, most of us were walking to sp
are the horses — that the earthquake struck. Since the quake seemed to be coining from the north and since the plateau was obviously unsafe, what with the broken ground and all, we were mostly happy to follow Duke Bili down and off it But the face we came down started to break up before the tail of the column was clear, my lord, and there weren’t much room at the bottom, so we took off in two directions; me with the force I brought in, Duke Bili with maybe two hundred.

  “When it was over, when the ground stopped shaking and rumbling and when those hot rocks stopped falling, I led my group back and found the end of the plateau had broken up and slid down into a little vale. What of the rest of the plateau we could see looked to be all afire, and that cliff where the Maidens and Ahrmehnee had made their stand had disappeared completely. It was more burning forest southeast and southwest, and given the poor condition of my force, I felt it unwise to take them into that inferno, put them in more danger. I knew that Duke Bili, too, had maps and I assumed he would find his own way north.”

  He shook his head sadly. “Now I wonder if I erred, my lord. Perhaps . . . ?”

  “Not a bit of it, Komees Hari,” snapped the High Lady Aldora. “You made a command decision, did what you thought best for the troops under you. Considering the circumstances and the conditions you’ve outlined, I doubt me I’d have done differently. Don’t berate yourself further. I’d say you had no choice.”

  Hari’s relief had flooded his lined face. That Aldora, who was not only Bili’s lover but a recognized authority on cavalry tactics, could thus absolve him of blame lifted a weighty load from his loyal old conscience. He continued then.

  “It took us near two days, my lord, to backtrack to where we had gone onto the plateau. But the gap had fallen in. Sir Geros climbed atop the tumbled rocks and returned to say that he had seen precious little, since all the land in both directions seemed covered with a thick blanket of smoke, even the tops of the hills and ridges. So, with our supply train gone, too, I decided our best course was to hotfoot it north while still we could travel.”