“We thought you would burn us with your dragons,” the man said, with blood-flecked lips. “But … my god will see you burn instead … in this life or the next. Mark my words. I curse you all.”
Karus felt an intense wave of revulsion for the wounded man. It was like he had eaten something foul, and it had turned his stomach. He knew without a doubt this was one of Garvin’s followers, a worshipper of a dark god.
“Ah, you found a follower of Pattor,” Ugin growled. “This night wasn’t a complete waste after all. With his death, this world will become a better place.” Ugin strode forward toward the injured prisoner, eyeing him with what seemed like pleasure. “Your evil god won’t save you this day.”
“I will be saved in the next life, Vass.”
“I do not think Pattor will thank you for failing.” Ugin glanced around the wrecked common room. He waved his sword and free arm about. “This looks like failure to me, not victory.”
The man suddenly appeared uncertain, then grimaced as a wave of pain overcame him. When it passed, he fixed the Vass with his gaze. “Did we fail? Are you so sure?”
The Vass gave a growl to that.
Disgusted by such a man worshipping evil, Karus turned his attention to Pammon. “Take a century. I doubt you will find anything, but see where the tunnel leads. Then collapse it.”
“Yes, sir,” Pammon said and began moving toward the tunnel. “Second Century, on me.”
“I am going too,” Ugin said to Karus, turning away from the prisoner and dropping down into the tunnel before anyone could try to stop him. Clearly the Vass would not take no for an answer. Karus did not care. He already knew what they would find—nothing.
If he wanted Logex now, he would have to send cavalry after the man. And Karus knew he could not do that, not now. The Horde was too close, and his cavalry had much more pressing things to do.
The wounded man began to laugh again. The sound of it was harsh. It grated on Karus’s nerves. Karus clearly understood those that had remained in the tavern had done it so the others could escape … and to buy them time to get clean away. The thought of it infuriated him.
“What do you want to do with the prisoners?” Flaccus asked, coming up.
Karus looked once more around the common room. There were half a dozen prisoners, all in varying states of injury.
“They had their chance to surrender,” Karus said, feeling a terrible exhaustion and weariness settle over him.
“Yes, sir,” Flaccus said, “they did.”
“Kill them,” Karus said. “Kill them all.”
“With pleasure.” Flaccus drew his sword.
Karus made his way for the door. He wanted some fresh air.
“Your heart will be ripped from your chest and burn in my lord’s holy fire,” the prisoner shouted at him again. “Just like you would have burned our camp, and families too … mark my words … you will burn, all of you … purified in the fires. Just as this wicked city should burn, so too shall you.”
“What did he say, sir?” Flaccus asked.
“It isn’t worth translating,” Karus said. “He follows a dark god and is filled with hate.”
At the door, Karus spared the prisoner one last look, then stepped outside. He found a mass of men waiting. He pushed through them and spotted Amarra with Si’Cara by her side. They were standing next to the defunct fountain. Amarra’s hand went to her mouth at the sight of him. Karus leaned the shield against the fountain’s basin, returning it where he had found it, a little more battered than it had been.
Under the light of the new moon, he thought Amarra looked wonderful, beautifully radiant with her snow-white dress and hair. She was an image of peace and salvation in stark contrast to Karus, drenched in the blood and gore of vengeance. It brought a weary smile to his lips.
He felt sticky and more than dirty, filthy even. Karus was sure he looked plain dreadful. He wanted nothing more than a hot bath, for he felt even worse than he looked. The excitement from the fight had worn off and the exhaustion was setting in. His body was starting to ache, especially his shield arm from the repeated blows it had taken.
“I am getting too old for this,” he said, then looked up at Amarra, who was clearly horrified by his appearance. “None of it’s mine.”
The relief in her expression was plain.
“Logex escaped with some men,” Karus said. “There’s a tunnel leading in the direction of the city wall.” In truth, Karus felt like he had failed. “I got Ord though. He’s dead. That’s something, at least.”
Amarra said nothing at first, her gaze going in the direction of the city wall. “I am sure Logex will be found. One day, he will pay for what he has done.”
Though he wasn’t so sure, Karus gave a tired nod. He turned his gaze to the tavern. An intriguing thought occurred to him. He suddenly gave a low chuckle as he thought it through.
“Fire,” he breathed to himself and chuckled again. “Perhaps this city should burn after all.”
“What?” Amarra asked, a concerned look on her face. “What’s funny?”
“I’ve just had an idea,” Karus said. “Well, it’s really half of an idea … I will need to speak with my officers to see if it’s feasible, but some good may have come from this mess …”
Karus took a step away, his gaze going to the wall. The more he thought on it, the more he liked the idea. The question was … how would Dennig feel about his idea? Not to mention Karus’s own officers, for what he was thinking of doing would be risky. No, Karus corrected himself … it would be dangerous.
Chapter Fifteen
Pulling on the reins, Karus slowed his horse, bringing her to a complete stop. In a smooth motion, he dismounted, dropping into the knee-high grass that grew along the roadside. The two suns were almost directly overhead. They beat down on those below with an almost savage intensity that had Karus sweating profusely and once again baking in his armor.
Kol’Cara, who had been riding at Karus’s side, also dismounted. The elf calmly surveyed their surroundings and seemed far from impressed.
“Coluuuumn,” Prefect Dentatius called, stretching out the middle of the word. The prefect, commanding Karus’s escort, was riding next to Optio Bannus, one of Valens’s best troop leaders. Bundles of hay, along with a traveling pack, had been secured to the back of the optio’s saddle and horse’s back, along with empty forage nets. Dentatius raised an open hand in the air above his head. The motion was for the two troops of cavalry that stretched out behind in a column of two abreast. “Haaalt.”
With jingling of harnesses, much whinnying, and stamping of hooves, the column of near-forty horsemen pulled up to a stop, and neatly too. Valens’s men were well-trained, and it showed in how they handled their mounts.
It had been a good long while since Karus had ridden a horse. They were not his animal of choice. He was an infantry officer and, like most of his breed, believed it was better to march the miles away than ride them.
Extended rides always seemed to play havoc with his back, making him ache for days afterwards. It was the constant jarring that did him in. He took a moment to stretch, doing his best to work out the soreness.
The ride had not been a long one, but he already hurt from the previous night’s fight, his shield arm especially, which had become quite bruised. Karus glanced westward in the direction of the city, which was only a short ride away. His gaze shifted over to the road and the long line of captured orc wagons that trundled, creaked, and rattled by, just feet away. They made a heck of a racket.
The dwarves driving the wagons and riding in the beds looked on the legionary cavalry column with what Karus thought a mixed blend of curiosity and borderline hostility. Several of the looks they received were far from friendly.
Most of the wagons, pulled by the six-legged teska, were packed full of wounded. Some had been crammed with stores that had been covered over in tarp or tent canvas.
Very few dwarves were marching. Most were riding. Karus did notice that
a small number of skirmishers had been deployed farther out in the rolling grass fields to either side of the road. These provided a protective screen against a potential ambush. Karus approved, for it was what the legion would have done, and it spoke of the professional concern given to the warband’s security.
Turning his gaze away from the skirmishers and back to the wagons, Karus wondered how many of Dennig’s warband were combat effective. How many were capable of holding a sword? Most of the dwarves he’d seen so far had been injured in some way. It was a troubling sign that worried him. How much strength did Dennig have left?
“My friend,” Dennig boomed, holding up a hand in greeting. The dwarf had been marching beside a wagon a few yards farther down the road. It was why Karus had chosen to stop and dismount. Martuke was at Dennig’s side, and an escort of warriors, a dozen all told, trailed behind their warchief. Those marching with Dennig appeared hot, sweaty, and tired.
Handing the reins of his horse up to Dentatius, Karus turned to face the warchief as Dennig approached the last few feet. The dwarf’s grin was large, though Karus detected a deep weariness mixed with a terrible sorrow in his manner.
“It is good to see you.” Dennig held out his hand and they clasped forearms warmly. Dennig drew Karus close and into a bear hug, patting him on the back enthusiastically with powerful blows that, despite his armor, almost knocked the wind out of Karus.
It was as if the two were long lost comrades and had not just seen each other a few days before. Karus understood Dennig was putting on a show for his fellow dwarves. Martuke’s expression had soured at the display.
“It is very good to see you,” Dennig said again as he pulled away.
“You too, my friend,” Karus said, ignoring Martuke and focusing his entire attention upon Dennig. “How are you?”
“Tired,” Dennig said, with a note of exhaustion, “and hot. I am more than ready for this blasted march to end.”
“I well know the feeling.” Karus wiped sweat from his eyes. “Route marches are always brutal when it’s bloody hot out.”
“Unseasonably so.” Dennig glanced over at the wagons passing them by. “My injured are suffering terribly. Every bump and rut on this terrible excuse for a road is a torture session in and of itself. Worse, exposed as they are and under the suns, I am losing warriors by the hour. If I could only get them to shelter …” Dennig heaved a heavy sigh. “But … that does not seem to be in the stars, for the enemy is close.”
“We cannot afford to stop to give them a break.” There was a pained expression on Martuke’s face as he said it. Dennig’s second in command glanced upward. Two dragons flew high above, to the point where they were nearly tiny specks in the sky. “The dragons tell us advance elements of the enemy are just ten hours’ march behind us, maybe closer.”
“They are dogging our heels something fierce,” Dennig said. “My rearguard has already had a couple of sharp scraps with their scouts. I’ve never known the Horde to pursue so hard. They are like a dog that has a bone and, no matter how hard you tug, just won’t let go.”
Martuke turned, wiping sweat away from his eyes, and stared behind them at the long column of wagons that stretched out into the distance. “They must really want revenge on us for what happened at the town.”
“No,” Karus said. “That’s not it. The enemy is doing their best to catch you. They want to keep us from linking up. Individually, we are much easier to defeat.”
Dennig eyed him a long moment before replying. “I agree and I’ve given this some serious thought. Together we will be stronger.”
“Exactly.” Karus was pleased Dennig understood.
“I think you’re reading into it too much,” Martuke said to his warchief, “expecting too much from them.”
“Am I?” Dennig asked, suddenly becoming heated. Karus wondered if the two had already had this conversation. He suspected they had. “Am I really?”
Martuke chose not to reply.
“I’ve pushed my boys as hard as I could.” Dennig let go a tired breath as he stared at the nearest wagon, which was full of wounded, as it passed them by. “I’ve driven them almost to their limit.” He looked back at Karus. “Since we left the town, we’ve only stopped to water the beasts or catch an hour or two of sleep … at most. The teska are on their last legs and we’ve already had a few collapse from exhaustion. By the Seven Levels, we’re in no condition for a fight, not without an extended period of rest.”
Valens had provided Karus a report on the dwarves’ condition. Karus had not really expected anything different. The dwarven warband had been in poor shape to begin with. A hard march, like the one they’d just undertaken, had only served to wear them down further, even if they were mostly all riding the wagons.
“I never thought I would be grateful to a dragon,” Dennig said. “Never in a thousand and one moons would I have guessed.” The dwarf gestured vaguely toward the east. “We’ve seen the enemy’s wyrms from a distance, but they don’t venture close enough to be a threat.” Dennig paused and glanced down at the long grass at their feet before looking back up. “Thank you for sending them, by the way. There is no doubt in my mind that we would not be here without the dragons protecting our march. My Dvergr and I owe you a debt we cannot easily repay.” He looked over at Martuke and his tone became hard. “Don’t we?”
Martuke’s jaw flexed and his eyes narrowed dangerously as he gazed upon his warchief. After several heartbeats, he broke eye contact with Dennig and gave a curt but firm nod. “It is true. We do owe a debt of gratitude.”
“Well,” Karus said. The tension between the two dwarves was almost so thick you could have cut it with a sword. Another wagon, loudly creaking and groaning, passed them by. Karus waited until it was beyond them. “I’ve got some good news to share.”
Both dwarves looked over to him.
“Good news we can most certainly use,” Dennig said, perking up slightly.
“In their rush to catch you,” Karus said, “the enemy left much of their supply train unguarded.”
“Did they now?” Dennig said. “That sounds like an opportunity.”
“My cavalry commander thought so too,” Karus said. “Last evening, he hit the train hard.”
“They’re out of supply then?” Dennig said hopefully.
“Not quite,” Karus said. “He was unable to destroy the food stores. What with the enemy’s wyrms, there was no time to do that kind of work safely. It was a hit-and-run job.” Karus gestured toward the shaggy teska pulling the nearest wagon. “My men were able to slaughter their beasts of burden. According to the report I received this morning, nearly every teska was put to the sword.”
“I guess that’s almost the same thing as losing their food stores.” Dennig brightened considerably. He clapped his hands together. “Their supply train is going nowhere and it’s now miles behind their main body. Give it a few days and the bastards pursuing us will go hungry. They won’t be able to follow much beyond Carthum.”
“We can certainly hope for that,” Karus said. “But I think it a risky proposition pushing onward. The enemy is too near for comfort and they outnumber us greatly. With them being so close, we won’t have the time we need to load food and water onto the wagons you’ve secured … or those that my people have managed to build, at least sufficient amounts for both my legion and your boys to feed ourselves longer than a couple of weeks.”
“So,” Dennig said, “you are not prepared for a march, then?”
Karus shook his head. “Not completely, no.”
“Then we will leave you,” Martuke said, “and take our chances on the road west … alone, as it should be. The farther we go, the closer we get to safety. The plan was for you to be ready to march when we arrived. You have said you are not. We cannot wait for you to ready your legion.” Martuke made legion sound like it was a dirty word. “With any luck, when the enemy gets to Carthum, they will stop following us and fix their attention on you humans and the city. At that point,
they become your problem and not ours.”
Dennig shot Martuke a deeply unhappy look. Karus felt a stab of anger at the selfishness of the dwarf. Was the bastard so blind? Was he so stupid he could not see what was right before him? Karus and the dragons had saved this warband. How utterly ungrateful.
Ugin was right. No good deed went unrewarded. Karus wanted nothing more than to reach out and strangle the bastard. Instead, he calmed himself and focused his attention squarely on Dennig, for it was only the warchief’s opinion that really mattered.
“I believe we should hole up in Carthum.” Karus brought both hands together before him. “Together we can hold the city.”
“You can’t be serious.” Martuke exploded. “You would have us hunker down in that gods forsaken abandoned place? Let the Horde, with a superior army, come up and seal us in? We just experienced that. You want us to endure another siege?” Martuke turned to Dennig. “Tell me you are not seriously considering this.”
“It makes good tactical sense,” Karus said. “The walls of Carthum are just too strong for us to pass up. Should we quit the city and march west with you, there is every reason to believe the enemy will rapidly catch up and bring us to battle … before the supply they carry with them on their backs runs out.”
Dennig considered Karus for several heartbeats. His eyes narrowed and he reached up a hand and stroked his neatly braided beard.
“You mean to defend the city with or without us,” Dennig said, more as a statement than a question. The dwarf glanced in the direction of Carthum. From the top of the gentle rise they stood upon, the buildings in the palace district could be seen in the distance, just barely.
“Yes, I do mean to hold the city,” Karus said. “And I’m hoping you will join me. Between your warband and my legion, we should be able to make Carthum a tough nut to crack.”
The First Compact: The Karus Saga (The Karus Saga: Book Book 3) Page 22
