Angry, he jumped to his feet and stalked out. In the cool night air the narrow valley was illuminated by a froth of stars, which silvered the sea and the remaining patches of snow.
His cheeks cooled, but his heart didn’t. Here he was a slave who didn’t even have place at the table. Back home he was the son of a Rolencian lord. He’d modelled himself on Byren and Orrade, both honourable men.
And not that different from Rusan and Olbin, he had to admit. But they weren’t his people. He didn’t owe them any allegiance.
Tomorrow, he would sail south.
Head home to serve Byren.
First however, he had to escape the Utland raiders, then find Byren, then convince him Mitrovan would make a good spy.
And, if he did all that, he still had to hope Mitrovan discovered something useful, because if he didn’t, Garzik didn’t know how he was going to look Byren in the eye and ask for his forgiveness.
So much to accomplish before he could become the king’s man.
He’d worry about it tomorrow. Right now he was tired. Turning around, he went back into the long-hall, heading for his spot against the wall.
Iron-hair met him halfway. He’d thought she just happened to be passing by him and wasn’t prepared when she stopped to speak to him. ‘You might understand our language, but that doesn’t mean you understand us, belongs-to-no-one. You still have a lot to learn. That you ask questions is a good thing.’ She gave him a nod of approval, then gestured to where Rusan and his raiders sat. ‘Prove yourself and you may yet win a place at the table.’
Then she moved on.
Her approval warmed him, and he was surprised to discover he did want to win a place at the table.
But his loyalty was to Byren. Always would be.
Mind made up, Garzik stretched out and put his back to the long-hall.
He fell asleep, expecting to be up with the sun.
Instead, he woke to shrill, inhuman screams. The raiders rolled to their feet, shouting instructions. Someone lit a lantern, then torches. The beardless came running, even as they threw on boots and buckled weapons. Barefoot women came running with whatever weapons came to hand. Even children of ten and eleven came running, ready to fight.
At first Garzik thought the settlement was under attack, but when he darted outside there were no extra ships in the star-silvered bay.
The sounds came from up the valley, from one of the cow byres. Every able-bodied child and adult ran towards it, torch flames flickering.
By the time they got there, they found that the wall of the cow byre had been torn down, some animals had been dragged off and the remaining animals had run off in a panic.
People shouted, trying to recapture the startled animals. The small, shaggy cows had covered a surprising distance. They were not as docile as cows back home and they tried to kick and bite the youngsters sent after them. The goats were even more cantankerous.
As the Utlanders speculated as to what had attacked the cow byre, Garzik went looking for signs. He took his torch and went around the far side of the hill, where he found a patch of snow with drag marks, alongside manticore prints.
The sight took him back to Narrowneck, when he had been with Piro and they were being stalked by a manticore pride. Clever and cooperative, the manticores had had them cornered and they’d only escaped because Byren and Orrade kept their heads, and Piro killed a manticore. The Utlanders would have admired her.
‘What is it?’ Rusan asked.
‘Manticore.’ Then, in case the Rolencian word was unfamiliar, he mimed the shape of the great feline body and the way the chitinous tail curled over the creature’s back, ready to stab and poison.
Olbin and Rusan nodded their understanding.
‘You know manticores?’ Rusan asked, using an Utland word for the beasts.
Garzik nodded. ‘Last winter a pride stalked me and my friends. We set a trap and killed them all. Took the chitin to make armour.’
Rusan and Olbin exchanged looks and he wondered if they thought he was boasting.
Rusan gestured towards the peaks and the highlands beyond. ‘Winter lingers on up there. They’ll have cubs to feed.’
‘No point chasing them tonight.’ Olbin nodded. ‘Too dangerous –’
‘We can’t let them get away with this,’ Jost protested, stalking over with his friends. ‘They’ll be back. They’ll cause no end of trouble.’
‘We’ll go after them tomorrow,’ Rusan said.
‘Tomorrow?’ Iron-hair joined them. ‘Tomorrow we need the cow byre repaired and reinforced. Two goats and a calf have been taken. We can’t afford to lose more. What do you think, Danja?’
Claw-face – Danja – and a companion came back from further up the valley, arriving in a pool of torchlight. ‘This is a big pride. We found seven separate tracks, but there could be more. At least three were hungry juveniles. If we don’t cull the pride, it won’t be safe to use the high pastures this summer. We’ll have to go into the highlands tomorrow.’
More beardless and raiders had joined them, and they were quick to volunteer.
‘The manticores have a large territory. Last time I was up there I saw two dens, one cave at each end of their territory. They’ll return to one of the dens to hide their kill and feast. We’ll need two groups. I’ll lead one.’ Danja gestured to her companion, a quiet beardless who usually sat back and watched. She reminded Garzik of Orrade and how Queen Myrella had once said of him, still waters run deep. ‘Polonika will lead the other.’
The quiet one nodded.
And just like that, Danja was in charge. It didn’t seem to matter to the raiders that she was female. She was beardless, that was enough.
NEXT MORNING THE hunters set off. About a dozen beardless remained behind to repair the cow byre. Because Rusan and Olbin had put in a good word for him, Garzik went with the hunters, but not Trafyn. The squire would be happy to be overlooked.
As for himself, he had a healthy respect for manticores, for all Affinity beasts. He still bore the scars of the amfina attack.
Affinity beasts tended to be smarter than ordinary animals, and consequently more deadly. But he felt reasonably confident after watching the raiders and beardless prepare for the hunt. There were just over fifty of them, enough so that, after the groups separated, they would still have the numbers to tackle the manticore pride.
They packed dried food to supplement what they could forage along the way. They wore warm clothes. Garzik was loaned a fur to cover his too-small sailor’s vest and breeches.
They carried hunting bows. The arrow heads were notched so they would sink into flesh and not dislodge. If the arrow didn’t kill outright, which took a perfect shot, the hunters could track the wounded beast, wait until it faltered, weak from blood loss, then finish it.
The climb out of the valley took the better part of the first day. The higher they went, the more magnificent the view, and the smaller the settlement seemed. Most of the snow had melted around the shore. A deep green blush covered the valley. From up here Garzik could see the women and children planting out the few decent fields.
Once they were through the pass into the highlands, the countryside changed. For one thing, an icy wind blew, sending flurries of fine snow. Ahead of him, fold upon fold of jagged, snow-covered valleys stretched into the north, illuminated by the setting sun. The valley floors were densely wooded and would prove difficult to traverse.
Despite their harshness, the Utland highlands reminded him of the Dividing Ranges and going hunting with Captain Blackwing.
Danja and Polonika checked the trails, then reported back. Garzik was used to being next to whoever was in command, either Byren and Orrade or Captain Blackwing, and he gravitated to the discussion. He wanted to know what was going on, to learn everything he could.
Danja gestured back to the track. ‘Just as we feared. The wind’s wiped out any sign of the manticores’ tracks. Tomorrow, we’ll separate. I’ll lead a party north-west. Polonika, you take yo
ur party north east.’
‘We’ll go with her,’ Jost insisted, nodding to his friends.
Danja did not look happy about this.
‘Looks like we’re with you, Danja,’ Rusan said, slinging an arm around her shoulders. ‘Just like when we were kids.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘This time do what I say and you won’t break your leg.’
‘She’s got you there.’ Olbin laughed.
As they settled in for the night, the icy wind whistled across the highlands and Garzik was glad of the borrowed furs. Manticores weren’t the only threat.
The next morning the two groups separated and Garzik was not sorry to see the last of Jost. As he watched Polonika and Jost’s party disappear into the western valley, he wondered if they would be the ones to find the right den. One part of him would be happy never to have to face another Affinity beast again.
‘Don’t worry, hot-lander, we’ll find the manticores,’ Olbin assured him, mistaking his expression for disappointment. ‘It’ll be glory for us. I have it on good authority.’
IT TOOK THEM five days’ steady marching to approach the den and before they reached it they knew it was no longer home to the manticore pride.
‘Leogryfs and manticores are mortal enemies.’ Danja looked up from the leogryf droppings. ‘Since last summer a leogryf pair must’ve taken over this end of the manticores’ territory.’
Garzik glanced up, instinctively looking for leogryfs circling far above them, not that there was much chance of them attacking a party this size, not unless they were defending their young. It was spring, so...
‘Explains why the manticores came over the pass to raid our cow byre.’ Rusan nodded. ‘Half the area to hunt and they have cubs to feed.’
Danja agreed. ‘No glory for us –’
‘We should head home,’ Olbin announced, rising and brushing his hands off on his thighs. ‘The oracles said I would defend the settlement. I thought they meant from manticores, but they must’ve meant from something else.’
Danja glanced to Rusan who nodded.
‘Did they say when?’ she asked Olbin. For a heartbeat, Garzik thought she was kidding, then he realised they were all serious.
‘No idea when.’ Olbin shook his head. ‘But we should go back.’
Even though it was late afternoon and they’d been travelling all day, no one complained when they turned around and set off right away.
Although they were retracing their steps, they’d set off late in the evening and Olbin pushed them, so that they came to the pass late on the fourth day, rather the fifth.
Chapter Twelve
A QUICK SCOUT around revealed their old camp was undisturbed. No sign of the other group having returned this way.
Garzik noticed Danja searching the ridges to the north-west, obviously thinking of Polonika. She caught Olbin’s eye. ‘Maybe we should go help Polonika. Maybe you are meant to kill the manticores, after all. Did the oracles give you any clues?’
Olbin opened his mouth, then shut it.
‘Oracles...’ Rusan made a disgusted sound. ‘Why can’t they just tell us ‘do this’ or ‘do that’? Why leave us guessing?’
Danja shrugged. ‘Who knows the ways of oracles? We’ll camp here and go home tomorrow.’
Everyone settled down for the night. It was Garzik’s job to tend the fire and cook their meal. When the food was almost cooked, he noticed Olbin and Rusan. Olbin was waving his hands around, trying to convince Rusan of something. Finally, Rusan nodded and they both slipped away.
At a guess, they were going through the pass to check on the settlement. Clearly, the Utlanders took the warnings of their oracles seriously.
Garzik hesitated. As a slave he owed the Utlanders nothing. But his instinct was to go after them, just in case they needed help.
He told himself Captain Rusan’s ship was the only way he had to get home, which was true. But, if he was honest, he was worried about Cheeky-puss and others back at the settlement.
He called everyone to come get their dinner, then set off for the pass. It was a narrow defile between sheer stone walls. Hardy spring ferns had already sprouted in the crevices. Garzik suspected it would soon be completely full of ferns and hard to find. Already, he’d lost track of Rusan and Olbin and had to run to catch up.
Coming out the far side, he still hadn’t caught up. There was no sign of the two Utlanders. But there were two more ships sitting down below on the still water of the narrow bay. They’d moved Rusan’s ship and taken both places at the jetty.
The sun had dipped behind the valley walls. Long, rippling clouds stretched across the sky, reminding him of sand left by the retreating tide. The clouds caught the setting sun’s fiery rays, reflecting in the bay so that the silhouetted ships seemed to ride the clouds.
Were these new arrivals settlement raiders returned with more booty stolen from the Merofynians, who’d stolen it from Rolencia?
At this distance he could not make out the carvings on the ship’s prows. From what he gathered, there were at least another two shiploads of settlement raiders. He could see a stream of tiny figures carrying bundles from the store-houses to the jetty, not the other way around. Traders, then.
But something made Garzik uneasy. He frowned.
The smoke... it wasn’t the blue-white of carefully tended cooking fires, but the black smoke of destruction, and there was too much of it coming from one of the cottages. Even as he realised this, he saw one of the men cuff a child struggling under a heavy bundle. The man shoved the child in the back, sending him towards the ships.
One thing about the Utlanders had impressed Garzik. They might beat a slave, but even the roughest of men were patient with the children, never raising a hand against them.
‘Down.’ Danja grabbed him, surprising an undignified yelp from him. She pulled Garzik along after her as she sought shelter further down the path.
Here they found both Rusan and Olbin watching the settlement from behind a rock shelf.
‘Olbin was right, Danja,’ Rusan whispered. ‘Two ships, anywhere between sixty to eighty renegades.’
Danja cursed under her breath. ‘We can’t wait for Polonika’s return, but there’s only twenty-six of us.’
‘They won’t set sail this late,’ Rusan said. ‘They think they’re safe; we’ll have surprise on our side.’
Olbin cursed fluently and eloquently. ‘If they lay a hand on Sarijana. I swear –’
‘Who are they?’ Danja asked. ‘Can you tell?’
Rusan shook his head. ‘Too far to see.’
‘But the women down at the settlement would know who they are and which island they come from,’ Garzik said. ‘Wouldn’t that bring down a retaliatory raid on their settlement? Why risk their families by attacking yours?’
Olbin shook his head. ‘Always asking question, this one.’
‘They’re renegades. No families, no home.’ Rusan spat in disgust. ‘Killed the wrong man or woman. Too wild to raise children.’
‘Why do you think we beardless take the vow to defend our sisters’ children?’ Danja asked. ‘Sometimes renegades steal from fellow Utlanders, rather than take the honourable path.’
Capturing hot-land ships was honourable? Garzik supposed it was – from an Utlander’s point of view.
‘We should go.’ Olbin went to rise.
‘Wait for us.’ Danja caught his arm. ‘I’ll go back and get the others.’
She darted away.
Garzik waited, stomach churning. If he felt this bad, he didn’t know how Rusan and Olbin could sit still.
Rusan checked the cloudy sky. ‘Getting dark. Be a cloudy, starless night. If we don’t leave now we’ll have to light torches. Might as well go knock on the door.’
Olbin and Rusan exchanged looks and came to their feet.
‘She said to wait,’ Garzik called after their retreating backs.
They didn’t bother to answer.
He cast one look over his shoulder and ran after
them.
There was still enough light to see by, but only just. Rusan was right; soon that light would fade and the night would be utterly black. Danya and the others would have to risk lighting torches.
Outnumbered as they were...
Rusan and Olbin ran single file down the path, with Garzik on their heels. It was all downhill and they made good time. He looked back twice, but couldn’t spot the others following. Either they weren’t through the pass yet, or they were hidden by the folds in the rock. After that, he concentrated on running.
Garzik had grown since winter. He still wasn’t as tall as Rusan, but his legs ate up the distance and he kept up with both of them. His heart hammered, then settled into an easy rhythm as he fell into a distance-eating run.
The after-glow of the setting sun gradually faded. Even with his eyes wide open and adjusted to the dark, it was getting hard to see. He followed Olbin and Rusan more by sound and instinct than anything else.
They passed the remains of a burned-out cottage, where coals still blinked in the ashes, and he almost ran into them. Olbin steadied him. Garzik smelled yesterday’s dinner and furs on the air – a cottage. But there was also blood. Death. No light burned in the cottage, no glow came through chinks in the shutters.
‘Cow byre’s empty, too,’ Rusan said softly. ‘Come on.’
A whimper made them stop.
They turned towards the dark opening that was the cottage door. The whimpering cut off abruptly. Whoever was inside could see them, probably silhouetted against patches of snow on the far side of the valley.
Rusan approached, calling softly.
Someone ran out the side door. Garzik tackled them on instinct and heard a Merofynian curse. ‘Trafyn?’
‘Lazy belongs-to-no-one!’ Olbin was there in an instant, hauling Trafyn to his feet, shaking him. ‘What happened?’
The squire whimpered. ‘Don’t hurt me, don’t –’
‘They won’t hurt you,’ Garzik told him and translated Olbin’s question. ‘What happened?’
‘Ships came around midday. They seemed friendly at first. That bitch didn’t want to trade...’ As Trafyn spoke, Garzik translated, editing what he said. ‘The traders wouldn’t take no. They –’
The King's Man (The Chronicles of King Rolen's Kin) Page 12
