As Fire is to Gold (Chronicles of the Ilaroi Book 1)

by Mark McCabe

  “Everyone knows that Larnük could lead the hunt himself, of course,” she was saying. “Grartok has his eye on him, you can tell. The next time a new hunt leader is chosen he’s sure to choose Larnük.”

  “He is a strong warrior,” agreed Drait noncommittally.

  “I think he would already be a hunt leader but for Hrothgar,” whispered Varna. “Larnük says that Hrothgar is jealous of him.” Clearly, Varna believed Mardur was asleep. Keeping her eyes closed, the Second Warrior’s tent-mate focused her attention on the two voices. Despite the rumble of the cart and the fact that Varna had lowered her voice, she could still make out what was being said.

  “If anything ever happens to the Second Warrior,” Varna continued, “then Larnük will be able to show what he is really capable of. I know his day will come.”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” replied Drait. Mardur knew what Drait would be thinking. A mixture of boasting and wishful thinking usually fuelled Varna’s statements. It was well known that she wanted Larnük to progress so she herself could rise up the pecking order. Drait had no doubt seen it all before.

  “I’m certain of it,” replied the youngster. “Grartok needs strong leaders and he has a sound eye. Larnük would vie for Second Warrior if Hrothgar were to fall.”

  Mardur doubted if Larnük was as good as Varna claimed. He was a capable warrior but had little experience at leadership. To be chosen as Second Warrior he would need to be judged the best of all of the hunt leaders. Even if he was as capable as Varna claimed, he would need to prove himself as a hunt leader first. As usual, Varna was allowing her dreams to get ahead of reality.

  “Hrothgar isn’t worthy of the role,” Varna went on when Drait offered no response. Once again, she had lowered her voice. She was on dangerous ground and she probably knew it, thought Mardur, but her prattling mouth apparently couldn’t resist pursuing the subject. “Grartok knows that, too,” she went on. “His bedding of Mardur shows his contempt for the Second Warrior.”

  “All that shows,” snorted Drait contemptuously, “is that Grartok likes to keep his lance well oiled.”

  “Well,” replied Varna, somewhat indignantly. “If Hrothgar was a true warrior he wouldn’t allow someone else to warm his bed for him. And Grartok knows that. That’s why he picked her. Because he knows Hrothgar is too weak to stop him.”

  The older woman laughed openly at Varna’s statement. “Don’t be foolish, child. If Hrothgar had any idea what was going on, he would call for Shüglac without hesitation. I don’t think he could best his older brother, but he would acquit himself with honour. Do you think Larnük would do that if it was you that Grartok was bedding?”

  “He certainly would,” Varna insisted, clearly offended at the suggestion her mate might turn a blind eye to such a thing. “I’m sure of it. Larnük wouldn’t want to live with such dishonour.”

  “Mmmm.” It was clear that Drait wasn’t convinced Varna’s assessment of Larnük was an accurate one.

  “Anyway,” said Varna, “we’ll soon see if you’re right about Hrothgar.”

  “Why is that?” asked Drait, obviously tiring of Varna’s nonsense.

  “Because,” responded Varna smugly, “Larnük is going to tell Hrothgar what Grartok’s been doing.”

  Mardur couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped from her mouth at what she’d heard. She felt a chill run up her spine and had to fight down the urge to jump up and grab a hold of Varna and shake her until she told her everything she knew. Restraining herself, she hoped that by continuing to feign sleep she may hear more than if she openly challenged the young fool.

  “You dolt,” spat Drait angrily. “What does he hope to achieve by that?”

  “Hrothgar is . . . is his hunt leader . . . his . . . his loyalty is to him.” It was clear from the uncertainty in Varna’s voice that she hadn’t expected the response she’d got from Drait. “Besides,” she went on, “if Grartok kills Hrothgar, then Larnük will profit.”

  “You put him up to it, didn’t you?” accused Drait. Her annoyance was palpable, even to Mardur at the back of the wagon. “You stupid little idiot. All you’ve done is ensure the Sagath will lose a good warrior at a time we can least afford it. And Larnük will be lucky to keep his own head. If Hrothgar doesn’t slay him in a blind rage, Grartok will when he finds out who told his brother about him. Where will that leave you then?”

  “H-Hrothgar will be grateful for Larnük’s loyalty.” It was clear Drait had rattled the girl. If what Drait said was true Varna would find herself without a mate. And if Grartok had the slightest suspicion of her involvement in any of this, she might even lose her own head. “N . . . no one will know. No one will know who told Hrothgar.”

  “Well, I’ll give you this girl. You play a dangerous game. Too dangerous for my liking.”

  Mardur’s mind raced as the two women fell into silence. It was clear that Varna was wondering now whether she had done the right thing after all. Not that Mardur cared about her; her own safety and that of her child was her paramount concern. She knew Hrothgar well. Drait was right. Larnük would be lucky if the Second Warrior didn’t slay him on the spot when he told him about her and Grartok. Surely Larnük must know that too. Hrothgar’s rage was well known. Maybe what Varna said had been just more of her dreams; maybe she hadn’t really put Larnük up to something so perilous.

  Unfortunately, Mardur knew she couldn’t take that chance. If Varna had told the truth, Hrothgar would go straight to Grartok looking for vengeance. Or, if she were anywhere close by, he might seek her out first. By the blood of her fallen ancestors, she had hoped somehow not to have to deal with all of this. She had no choice now; Varna’s stupidity had forced her hand. She would have to do something, and quickly.

  Grartok was the only one who could protect her now. But what reason did he have to do that? She wasn’t bearing his child, she knew that, and he wouldn’t lift a hand in her defence until or if she did so. That was it! It suddenly dawned on her what she needed to do. She must go to Grartok and tell him she was with child, his child. He would be elated. She could then ask him to acknowledge her as his mate, to take her into his tent and under his protection. He would certainly do so. Then, as long as he could deal with Hrothgar, her safety would be assured, as would her babe’s.

  Desperately, she tried to quell her beating heart. Mardur was frightened, very frightened. She was in great danger now. She had to hope she could get to Grartok before Hrothgar heard what Larnük had to say and returned to their camp in the blind rage that would inevitably follow. It was uncertain when they would link up with the warriors again. Certainly, it would be within the next few days, but exactly when would depend on their own movements and those of the Algarians. In the meantime, Mardur’s life would be at risk. All because of a stupid, scheming, fool of a girl.

  If Varna only knew how precarious life became the higher up the tree one rose. Despite the lowly position Drait held in the tribe, at least she had little to fear from ambitious rivals. The higher one rose, the more one’s time was spent looking over one’s shoulder, no less for the women than for the warriors. At least the warriors were the masters of their own fate. Mardur hadn’t really chosen the position she’d found herself in. She’d never really sought Hrothgar’s favours; it was he that had been attracted to her. Once he’d singled her out for his attention she’d had little choice in the matter. The same went for Grartok, only more so. He had simply stepped into her tent one night and that was that. And where had all this led her? Now she was fighting for her life, and that of her child, as grimly as any warrior did in battle.

  Having resolved on her course of action, Mardur wondered what would come next. She needed to get pregnant, quickly. Her ruse would work for a short time, and hopefully, it would carry her through her current dilemma, but she couldn’t feign pregnancy for too long. If she couldn’t find some way of truly becoming pregnant then she would have no choice but to run away and take her chances on her own. Any hope that she might have been able
to pass another child of Hrothgar’s off as Grartok’s was now gone. Curse Grartok. If he had impregnated her as he’d been trying to do, she wouldn’t be in this mess. And who else was there to fulfil the task?

  As the wagon rolled interminably forward, slowly taking them deeper and deeper into the lands of their enemies, Mardur turned her head to gaze back at the hills they were leaving. Behind the wagon, a dozen or so paces in its wake, walked Drait’s two children, her young daughter Hara and her elder son, Norag, who was carrying young Kradug astride his broad shoulders. Mardur’s eyes fixed on Norag, taking in the muscled torso of the young lad she knew would soon join the ranks of the warriors. He was a striking specimen, no doubt about it. Perhaps, thought Mardur, there are more things for Norag to learn than what the warriors will teach him.

  ~~~

  Hrothgar leaned over the side of his horse with one hand firmly gripping the pommel of his saddle and spat. He was tired of his assignment already and it had barely begun.

  Of the twenty warriors in his hunt, he had quickly moved to position three to keep a watch over the approaches to Cloudtopper, and a further three to keep an eye on the Vale of Dreams. That would provide him with some insurance should his prey escape the net and try to win through to either of the Guardians. He and the remainder of the hunt had then pressed on for the wilderness.

  Late on the previous day, they had reached the edge of the Western Wilderness and this morning he had divided his resources even further. Two groups of four warriors had already left, bound for their allotted portion of the area to be searched. The third group was now ready to depart as well. Once they were about their task, he and the remaining two warriors would form a fourth group. Over the next three days, each of the groups would comb a specific sector of the wilderness. Should their quarry still be at bay when they regrouped at an agreed location on the evening of the third day, then they would be allotted new areas and the search would continue.

  “Good hunting and may the will of Zar be with you,” growled Hrothgar to the leader of the third group as they prepared to depart. Although he said the words, there was no real depth of feeling behind his statement and the recipient of his commendation knew it.

  “May the God of Battles show me the path to courage and victory,” replied Larnük, giving Hrothgar the traditional response as he placed his right hand across his chest with his clenched fist just below his left shoulder.

  “I’ll see you three days from now at the ford,” grumbled Hrothgar, unable to shake off his exasperation at what he saw as the menial task that his brother, Grartok, had given him. “Let’s hope we’re done with this accursed mission by then.”

  “Don’t worry, Second Warrior, if our first sweep doesn’t find the human, then our second should.”

  “It’d better,” snapped Hrothgar angrily. “I won’t be wasting my time on any more than two.”

  “What will we do if we still haven’t found her then?”

  “We’ll give it up and rejoin the assault. I have no intention of rotting here while our brothers cover themselves in glory in Algaria.”

  Although Larnük tried to hide his concerns, it was clear he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of open disobedience of Grartok’s orders. “I thought you said Grartok saw this mission as critical to his plans,” he replied. “The First Warrior won’t be happy if we come back empty handed.”

  “I don’t care what he thinks about it,” roared Hrothgar. “I’m the hunt leader here in the field and I’ll make the decisions. If my brother thinks he can sidetrack me here, while he reaps all the glory for himself, then he underestimates me badly. Just be at the ford in three days’ time and leave the thinking to me, Larnük. I’ll let you know when I need your advice.”

  “Yes, Second Warrior.”

  Although Hrothgar knew he had insulted the warrior, he was unconcerned. Larnük’s place was to take orders from his hunt leader, not to question his decisions. Besides, in his current frame of mind he didn’t care who he insulted, Larnük least of all.

  For the briefest of moments, Hrothgar wondered what was troubling Larnük. He was a capable warrior, no more so nor less so than any of the other members of the hunt, but undoubtedly capable. A number of times over the last few days Hrothgar had felt Larnük had been about to say something, and then, just when he had seemed about to speak, he’d checked himself and kept whatever was troubling him to himself. Maybe, thought Hrothgar, he would rather be back at camp with pretty little Varna. There were times when he envied Larnük his possession of that one. Still, ‘rutting is rutting and killing is killing’ as his father used to say. There’d be time enough for rutting when the killing was done.

  With the conversation so abruptly concluded, Larnük and his companions rode off in silence, leaving Hrothgar and the remaining two sligs alone. With a sigh, Hrothgar turned his own horse and kicked it forward. “C’mon then,” he called out grumpily over his shoulder to his two companions. “Let’s be on with it. I want to get this over and done with as soon as we can.” It was their turn now to focus on the task that Hrothgar found so belittling.

  The task would not be an easy one. Scouring the wilderness in a search for one human child would be like finding one particular beast in a herd of brugon. Their only real hope of success would be if the girl followed one of the more direct routes out of the wild in her flight from Golkar. The assumption was that she would make her way to Kell or Tarak. Grartok had told Hrothgar he should be able to intercept her somewhere along that line. Combing the whole of the wilderness would have been an impossible task, even if Hrothgar had ten times the number of warriors at his disposal that he actually had.

  This wasn’t the work that a slig warrior was trained for. Hrothgar and his men knew only too well that the rest of the Sagath warriors would have already moved down from their winter camps in the mountains onto the plains of Algaria. Even now, they would be making their first assaults on the villages and towns that were scattered along the eastern border of what the Algarians had come to regard as their ‘sovereign territory’, as their queen was accustomed to calling it. The only consolation was that the first week or two of the slig offensive would bring them little real opposition.

  It was only when the Algarians realised the true extent of the onslaught the Sagath had launched that they would begin to marshal their forces and present some real form of resistance. Once they realised this was no longer a case of isolated raids but a full-scale war, they would mobilise every fighting man they could. That was when the real fighting would begin.

  And Hrothgar was determined to be part of that. By the time the conflict had reached that point, he was determined to be back where he and his men belonged, in the vanguard of the slig assault force. To achieve that he would need to find the girl quickly. Then, if he still had time, he could take her to Golkar himself and see what price he could extract from the wizard in exchange for his merchandise. If he took too long in finding her, however, he might need to delegate the task to Norvig, assuming the snivelling little coward had rejoined them by them.

  Although Hrothgar wouldn’t admit it, even to himself, he was already well on the way to persuading himself that would be the more sensible course to take. That way, he told himself, he could return to the tribe to join in the assault on the Algarians as soon as he and his hunt had found their prey. Norvig was much more experienced at bargaining with these wizards than he was, in any event. And if Golkar didn’t take kindly to Hrothgar’s proposal, then Norvig could be left to extricate himself from the mess as best he could. The Guardians had a tendency to get quite ruffled if rubbed the wrong way. Hrothgar didn’t have the time to deal with that sort of nonsense right now. Not when the greatest offensive the Sagath had ever initiated was underway.

  Hrothgar was determined. When the slaughter began he intended to be in the van of the slig host. Until such time as Kell acted on the information supplied by Hrothgar and reined in the Sagath, as Golkar clearly would not, he intended to make the most of what was an
all too infrequent opportunity: a chance to wreak havoc on an under-prepared adversary.

  ~~~

  The unexpected sound of a horse approaching drew Dain’s attention from his work. Looking up from the rich brown soil at his feet, and the rows of young corn shoots that stretched out across the field in front of him, Dain spied his nephew, Erl, coming across the field towards him on his brother’s big bay. That something was up was immediately clear. Erl was pushing the horse hard. He was in a hurry, there was no doubt of that.

  As Dain waited for Erl to reach him, he leaned on his hoe, taking in the darkening sky at his nephew’s back. A big storm was brewing in the east and the dark, rain-laden clouds were coming this way. Like all farmers, he welcomed the sight. Spring rains were generally the harbinger of a good season to follow. His family could do with a decent harvest. The last two had been disappointing with much drier summers than they’d been accustomed to. A good crop this year would certainly be welcomed.

  As Erl drew near, Dain lifted his arm in greeting. “Hey, Erl, what’s up? What’s the rush?” As Dain spoke, Erl drew his horse to a halt, only a few paces away from him. For the first time, he could see the harried look on the youngster’s face. The bay he was riding was blowing hard. Whatever had brought them here in such a rush, Dain feared it wouldn’t be good news.

  “Sligs,” panted Erl breathlessly, his eyes wide with fright. “Lots of them. Da sent me to warn you. He said there’s a big push on. He’s packin to leave.”

  Dain’s heart sank. He and the rest of the farmers out here in the eastern provinces had been hoping last year’s slig raids had been nothing more than an aberration. The news that they were out and about again was the last thing he needed to hear. What concerned him most, however, was the suggestion that his brother was packing up and planning to leave. Jorl didn’t spook easily. For him to be fixing to move out meant he was expecting much more than the isolated raids they’d seen in the past.