03 - Liar's Peak

by Robin D. Laws - (ebook by Undead)

  He moved his head up and down to indicate that his speech had come to an end. A few of the men began to clap but when no one else joined them, they stopped. Franziskus went to the archers and shook the hands of each in turn.

  It was Pinkert who broke the unfortunate silence. “I know a lengthy poem,” he said. “About Sigmar’s battle against the daemons of Nebligrikken. Perhaps now would be a good time to recite it.”

  No one disagreed, so Pinkert launched in. The poem was in an archaic form of Reikspiel, and Angelika was too impatient to follow it. She left the campfire, sweeping through the blind’s canvas folds. The sky was so dark and starless that it was hard to see where it ended and the surrounding mountains began.

  Jonas had followed her. He tried to grab her by the elbow but she was too fast, whirling around to face him.

  “You seem displeased,” he said.

  “What did I tell you?”

  Little light escaped from the blind, but she could still see his hardening expression. “The word is counsel. You counsel me. You do not tell me to do anything.”

  This had not been his attitude after the three men had been killed, which had been closer to whimpering. But Angelika knew better than to say so.

  “I painted you at least as brave as I. Surely you can’t expect me to place you at the centre of the tale.”

  “I expected you to stop lying to your men.”

  “That?” He seemed puzzled. “That was hardly—Yes, yes, that promise still stands. I would never deceive the men on a matter of consequence.”

  “What was that, then?”

  “Mere campfire talk—a restorative for weary spirits.”

  “And what happens to that when they ask Egerer for his version, and mark you out as a braggart and a tale-spinner?” She headed away from him, toward her bunk.

  “Egerer is loyal. He won’t impugn me.”

  She shook her head. Egerer already doubted him.

  “And you,” he called, “are loyal too—so watch what you say.” He whirled back toward the blinds, bumping into a soldier emerging behind him.

  It was Mattes. “Begging your pardon, sir,” he said.

  Jonas jettisoned his anger in favour of a superior officer’s jaunty condescension. “A simple bump, my good fellow. No harm done.”

  Mattes waited until he was out of sight behind the canvas wall. “I did as you asked,” he told Angelika.

  “As I asked?”

  “While he was in there, telling his stories, I was in his tent, going through his pack.”

  “And?”

  “If he’s got your ring, he isn’t leaving it about in his tent.”

  “Naturally. If he has it, it’ll be on his person, won’t it?”

  “You see the faces of the men in there?”

  “Yes,” said Angelika.

  “They’re more and more frightened of what dot-headed excursion comes next.”

  “Restive, are they?”

  “If you told me you hadn’t noticed, Angelika, you’d be lying. Wouldn’t you?”

  She answered the question by saying nothing.

  “Don’t want the men getting too edgy, do we?”

  “Is that my concern?”

  “It won’t be so easy, necessarily, to get your ruby back, if the good lieutenant is out on the trail and happens accidentally to get, let’s say, an arrow betwixt his shoulder blades. Would it?”

  “Now, Mattes, you’re over-egging the pudding.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Angelika and Franziskus were filling their canteens at the stream the next morning when Mattes came to letch them, worry written on his face. “Angelika,” he said. “Lieutenant. He wants you both quick.”

  “What is it?” asked Angelika, taking a drink from her water skin, then filling it to the top.

  “Some hare-brained scheme—” He caught himself short.

  It took Angelika a moment to understand. “Don’t mind Franziskus,” she said. “What you can say to me, you can say to him.”

  The drumsman did not seem especially reassured.

  “Franziskus, this is Mattes,” she said. “He’s agreed to help us out. To see if the ring is anywhere to be found. In exchange, I’ve… made a… commitment to take an interest in the men and their welfare. Do what I can to instill in Jonas a scintilla of horse sense.”

  “Congratulations on your commission, sir,” Mattes said to Franziskus.

  “Speak freely, Mattes. What’s said in confidence will remain so. And lead on, if we are wanted quickly.”

  They strode north, toward the nearest of the mounded hills. Jonas and Emil stood waiting at its foot.

  “You were saying, Mattes?” Angelika prompted.

  “I don’t know what it is, Angelika. Just that I’ve seen him like that before. And it’s never good.”

  Jonas was a distant, hopping figure, spare energy erupting from his rangy limbs. He clapped his fist into an open palm, casting frequent looks up to the stony rock layer bounding the mound valley’s western edge.

  “I’ll leave you to it,” said Mattes, peeling off. “Bui remember what we talked about, last night.”

  Franziskus stopped. “What did that mean?”

  Angelika marched on. “He’s concerned that the men have little faith in their leader. That a stray arrow might unintentionally find its way into the lieutenant’s neckbone. Good thing then, that you’re in charge of the archers, isn’t it?”

  “I did not like lying to the men about my past.”

  “I could tell,” said Angelika. “I hope no one else could.”

  “He put me on the spot. How could I gainsay him?”

  “You couldn’t. Don’t blame yourself.”

  Jonas waved at them.

  “He’s watching,” said Angelika. “Seem happy.” She waved back at the lieutenant, her mouth fixed into an insincere smile.

  Franziskus did the same. “Don’t seem too friendly, though. He’ll know you’re up to something.”

  “Franziskus, it’s a bad time to tell you this, now that you’ve yoked yourself to his destiny, but it’s clear to me now that Jonas is a hopeless cause.”

  “Good thing, then, that you’ve decided to help the men after all.”

  “It’s bad enough you get me into these situations without your gloating about it every time.”

  They were too close to continue their conversation, and so went quiet. When they arrived, Jonas clasped Franziskus’ arm for a hearty shake. “Your first day as an officer again, hah?” He did not know how to greet Angelika, looming near her for a moment with his jaws slackly apart. She folded her arms.

  “Well then.” He pointed to the rock layer. “This morning at dawn I awoke full of new determination. I could not contain myself and so went out for a bit of a ramble on my own. And as I did so, I saw figures up on the ridge there. A mile away, you understand, but I saw them.”

  “You’re sure they were Kurgs and not dwarfs again?”

  “Definitely not dwarfs. Had to have been Kurgs.”

  Emil broke in. “If you’ll excuse my interrupting, sir, that’s what I was saying. All the more reason to break camp.”

  Jonas shrugged indulgently. “The sergeant here proposes that we dissolve the company. Break up into patrol units and each go our own way, for the duration.”

  “With respect, I believe that is the course of action implied by our orders, sir.”

  “By no means, Sergeant Raab. I’ll not be separated from the men.”

  “Sir, we were instructed to harry the foe. Though Commander Vogt didn’t say so straight out, I think that makes it clear. We’re to avoid direct engagement and pick off as many as we can, opportunistically. It’s a stealth mission, sir. One we can’t perform with all forty-four of us clumped together.”

  “You’d have me leave them to their own devices out here in the teeth of hell? Unthinkable.”

  “Yes,” said Angelika. “What is a lieutenant without a company of men to follow him? Merely an overdressed corporal.
”

  “I did not bring you here,” said Jonas, “to remedy a sarcasm shortage. Franziskus, you explain to her.”

  “Explain what, lieutenant?”

  He pointed again. After some determined squinting, they could see what he was indicating: a tiny black rectangle carved out of the rock, very near to the top of the formation. Its shape was too regular and geometrical to be a natural formation.

  “A sangar,” said Angelika.

  “Is that what you call them?”

  “A dwarven lookout, hewn into the mountainside. You see them in the Blackfire, too. Though there they’re usually half crumbled.”

  “What’s it’s capacity, do you reckon?”

  “It’ll be scaled to dwarf height, but they can extend quite a way into a rock face.”

  “How many men can it hold?”

  “Hard to guess. Six? A dozen, two dozen. Three?”

  “I’m betting it will hold all of us. A tight squeeze, perhaps.”

  Mattes had been right—he was hatching a harebrained scheme.

  “But you saw Kurgs up there?”

  “Oh, yes, it will be defended. But once it is ours, it will allay both my concerns, and those of the sergeant here. We’ll have a secure base from which to send out our harriers. No more clustering exposed on the valley floor. And we’ll still be a company, unified and strong. Isn’t that right, Franziskus?”

  Angelika answered instead. “You do see the contradiction in attempting to capture an impregnable fortress, don’t you?”

  Franziskus tensed. “What Angelika means to say is—”

  “I didn’t make you an officer to tell me what Angelika thinks. Your job is to explain what I think.”

  “Jonas, we know you’re a tough leader,” he said. “That’s why we feel at liberty to express the odd contrary opinion—you can hear it without crumpling. We’d never question you in front of the men, but here, you wish to hear all counsel before you decide. Yes?”

  “That goes without saying.”

  “Then let us think this through. Angelika, perhaps you’d tell us what it is that makes the sangar a difficult target. Leaving out the wit.”

  “Dwarfs never pick poor spots to install their defences. When this was in use, you can bet they had a ballista or even cannons in there. The Kurgs won’t have that, but there’s no easy approach to the sangar from this side of the ridge. Below it there’s sheer cliff for a good hundred feet. The climb will be tough to impossible.”

  “Could you make it?” Jonas asked her.

  “I’d have to get closer, to see. But we know the Kurgs have primitive bows, and can fire down at any climbers.”

  “How do the Kurgs get in, then?”

  “From above—first of all, you saw one on top, so that means they’ve sentries posted. There’s likely a bolthole entrance, so its defenders don’t have to rappel down the cliff to the opening.”

  “That’s the point of weakness, then. We’ll get up on the flatted rock above it, storm the entrance, burst in, and overwhelm the defenders. Push them out of their own hole, onto the rocks below.”

  “But sir,” said Emil. “What good will it do us? What good is it doing the Kurg, really? Without cannons or ballista, it’s got no strategic value that I can see.”

  “The men need a victory, Emil. What do you say, Angelika?”

  “Honestly? I can’t think of a greater act of folly.”

  “Splendid. Beforehand, the defining triumphs of military history have always been derided as acts of supreme folly. Afterwards, they are remembered as masterstrokes of verve and boldness. Franziskus, what say you?”

  “You, Jonas, are our leader.”

  As Franziskus returned to the camp, he veered to follow Emil, leaving the others behind. Emil stiffened.

  “I am hoping we can work well together, sergeant,” said Franziskus. The note he meant to strike was conciliatory. His nervousness spoiled the attempt; instead he sounded crisp and forbidding.

  Emil spoke without inflection. “To fulfil an officer’s commands is a sergeant’s duty.”

  “And I would not doubt that you’ll do that duty, Emil.”

  “It is best if you addressed me as Sergeant Raab.”

  “Please hear me out. You’ve made your opinion of me plain.”

  “I’ve said virtually nothing to you, sir.”

  “But with gesture and glance, you’ve heaped me with contempt.”

  “If you say I did, sir, then I must have.”

  Franziskus stopped walking. “Emil, listen to me. You must be asking what I will do, now that our fortunes are reversed. A spiteful man would take petty revenge. Make your life a misery. So I must assure you I’ve no intention of mistreating you.”

  “A doubting man, placed in such a position, would he relieved to hear it.”

  “That you would hold a deserter in low regard—that is right and proper.”

  “Yes. I could not have known you were on a secret mission, and merely posing as a coward.”

  Franziskus sighed. “Let’s neither of us pretend you truly believe Jonas’ story.”

  “He’s our superior, lieutenant. He says it, so it’s true.”

  “You’ve devoted your entire life to this company, haven’t you, sergeant? Officers come and go, but you remain. You are the Gerolsbruch Swordsmen.”

  “I would never lay that claim.”

  “That, too, is part of your devotion. So I will say it. And I’m an officer, so it’s true.”

  “Very well, sir.”

  “You’ve served under steadier leaders than Jonas.”

  “A sergeant does not speak ill of his commander.”

  “You and I, we must help him find his feet.”

  “A sergeant does not betray his betters with unwelcome aid.”

  “You take the vows of rank very seriously.”

  “A man is lucky if he is blessed with clear rules to measure himself by.”

  “It would be a deplorable thing indeed, Emil, if you were forced to choose between loyalty to your company, and loyalty to your commander.”

  “It will not happen, sir.”

  “No?”

  “They are one and the same, sir. By definition. One and the same.”

  Franziskus found his archers lingering by the remains of the bonfire, cinders at their feet. He counted nine men. “Is this everyone?” he asked.

  The unit’s corporal stepped up, snapping neatly to attention. He boasted a thick, dark head of hair and burnished, coppery skin. Franziskus was reminded of a pear: the corporal’s jaw was much wider and rounder than the crown of his head. “All but one, sir,” he said.

  “Fetch the other. We’re going on a bit of a scout.”

  “Yes, lieutenant.”

  Franziskus asked the men for their names. The corporal was Lehn. Hoven, the tallest and stockiest of the men, impressed himself on Franziskus’ memory because his nose was copiously running. Periodically the man blotted it on his sleeve.

  The sky began to leak, too, sprinkling an intermittent rain on the camp. At the present moment, Franziskus could not help thinking of the Chelborg Archers as the sorriest bunch of men ever to take up arms together. The prospect of a scouting mission had done nothing to relieve their despondency.

  “Get yourselves assembled; we’ll set out in five minutes,” Franziskus said. He had never commanded a unit before, not even a small one. In his old company, he’d merely been a conduit for the transmission of orders from the first lieutenant to the sergeants and corporals. He worked to recall how an officer should speak and hold himself. He owed it to these men to imbue them with a sense of surety, even if he did not feel it himself.

  “Yes, sir, lieutenant…” Corporal Lehn trailed off.

  He was waiting for Franziskus to say or do something. Franziskus wondered what it could be. He tried to keep his features blank, so the men couldn’t see him searching his mind for the desired response. He felt sorry for his men; as it was, their lives were in the hands of an impulsive tru
th-bender. Now they were saddled with a green and useless second officer.

  “Sir,” said Lehn, “we have not been told your last name. If we are to address you properly, we must know it.”

  “Yes, yes, quite so,” said Franziskus. What name should he give them? “Ah, Weibe. That would make me Lieutenant Weibe.” A patently idiotic choice, he immediately thought. Lieutenant White. Why not Lieutenant Deserter, while he was at it? Lieutenant Fugitive. That had a pleasant ring to it.

  With the tenth man gathered and the men’s packs slung on their backs, they joined the other components of the scouting mission: Angelika, a quartet of swordsmen, the halflings (chosen for their deft-footedness) and, to the astonishment of none, Jonas himself.

  Angelika peered at the rock ridge, searching for the most likely point of entry. She chose a spot where the ridge had crumbled into a criss-crossing patchwork of natural terraces. By weaving to and fro along them, it seemed likely that they could pick their way up it with relative ease. Angelika pointed the way.

  Jonas accompanied her at the head of the procession; two swordsmen with them, the other pair bringing up the rear. Filch the halfling buzzed up to Franziskus, but Bodo pulled him away, whispering, “He’s an officer now. He mustn’t be bothered.”

  The archers spread themselves out in two lines, ready to fire at any marauders from the left or right. Franziskus stood between them. As the zigzagging uphill march eked on, the unit cohered into a single, disordered file. The party inched along bare, drizzle-slicked stone.

  Franziskus heard Hoven whisper to the corporal. “Where do you think he’s leading us now?”

  Lehn elbowed him in the ribs and cast a significant glance back at Franziskus. “There’s ears about,” he hissed.

  “Indeed there are!” Franziskus barked.

  The two men started as if doused by a bucket of icy water.

  “You’re weary, you’re frightened, and you’re in danger. Welcome to the life of a soldier,” he exclaimed, taken aback by his own fervour. “The only way out of this misery, back to the safety of your homes, is to kill the foe, and to keep killing him till we’ve won. And that’s just what we’re on our way to do. Understood?”