The First Compact: The Karus Saga (The Karus Saga: Book Book 3)

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  The deck had been gifted to him by the cleric. Since the passing of his parents, Danik had been the one person who had offered Tovak any real measure of kindness. It was through Danik that Tovak had discovered and embraced his god. For that, he would be eternally grateful.

  Stepping up to the crate he used as a table, Tovak closed his eyes and thought on Thulla.

  “Of the way ahead, what must be foremost in my heart?” he asked, shuffling the deck.

  He then laid out four cards, face down, before him. One by one, he flipped them over. The first card was the Traveler, depicting a lone Dvergr in white cloth, leaning upon a walking stick with a long, open road before him. The second revealed Thulla, the Taker, the deity standing with a scowl upon His face and a closed fist held against His chest. The third exposed the Road Hidden, which showed the Traveler standing before a high hedgerow, and beyond it an open, straight, cobbled path between high mountains rising on either side. And finally, he turned over Thulla, the Giver, where the god stood smiling, His hands outstretched and a bounty of fruit in one hand and a clay jug in the other.

  Tovak pondered the message before him. He was obviously the Traveler. The card had come up frequently for the past few months, but the second card concerned him. What might Thulla be taking from him as his journey progressed? He had so little. What more could Thulla ask? The lesson, perhaps, lay in the next card. A new path would be made available to him, and down it would lie Thulla’s bounty, but the way would not be clear. Tovak slowly nodded his head in understanding.

  As always, he would keep going. Faith was the one thing that nobody could take. He would keep his faith, and with it seek out Legend with every trial. Each test that lay before him would only serve to make him stronger.

  He returned the cards to the deck and slipped them carefully back into their box.

  The smell of woodsmoke now filled the air. There were shouts outside, followed by a trumpeting of oofants. He glanced over the back of the yuggernok to see a formation of Dvergr warriors in full plate armor emerge into view. They were marching in the opposite direction of the wagon, passing within a handful of yards.

  With an officer and a standard-bearer at the front, they looked disciplined, and dangerous. Tovak couldn’t help but smile. Soon he would be one of them—a Blood Badger. The warriors carried packs and yokes. A sergeant walking alongside the formation waved. Tovak waved back but, to his embarrassment, realized the warrior had been waving to one of the teamsters driving the massive wagon. He felt his cheeks heat as the sergeant looked directly at him, and then they were past.

  Tovak removed his Warrant of Passage and set it on the crate. He then put everything carefully back into his pack, including his dagger, which had been lying on the floorboards. He tied the straps tight and gave a tug to make sure the knot would not come loose.

  Gazing upon the Warrant, a warm feeling washed through him. Even as a Pariah, his skill had seen him admitted to the Academy. He could scarcely still believe he had graduated and earned a Warrant, and with it, his goal now lay tantalizingly within reach. He folded it carefully along its creases and tucked it into his tunic pocket.

  His field blanket came next. It took only a few moments to roll it up. He used short lengths of rope to tie the ends off and then secured it to his pack with a strap. Standing quickly, he slipped the strap over his head, settling the rolled blanket under his arm. He slipped on his pack next.

  A rough bump almost knocked him over. The great wagon rattled and creaked loudly, as if in protest. Tovak looked outside again and felt a thrill of excitement. They were passing into the encampment. A deep trench and turf wall with a wooden barricade formed the outermost defensive line. Sentries slowly walked the wall, gazing out onto the prairie. To Tovak’s eyes, they looked impressive in their armor and invincible. He imagined himself as one of them, guarding the encampment and helping to keep everyone secure.

  The yuggernok passed through the encampment’s open gate, where a detail of armored, shield-bearing infantry stood on either side, ever watchful. Full of anticipation, Tovak moved out onto the rear deck to try to get a better look at the camp, but much of it was blocked by the massive wagon and stacks of supplies. As they continued forward, the smell of smoke grew thick in his nostrils, and he quickly realized why. Dozens of campfires came into view. He picked up the stench of waste, mixed with the appetizing aroma of cooking. Tovak’s stomach rumbled with hunger. As Duroth had said, there would be no evening meal for him tonight. He would have to fend for himself.

  There were hundreds of tents, both large and small. He spotted an officer’s pavilion, a blacksmith, a leatherworker, even a large cooking tent with a dozen long tables set off to the side with cooks and their assistants hard at work, preparing an evening meal.

  Dvergr warriors were everywhere now, gathered around fires, marching in formation, and some going to or fro on whatever business they were about. Dozens sat around the nearest campfires, some in armor, others in their service tunics. Tovak saw women and children too.

  He had never seen so many Dvergr gathered in one place, and he was only now coming to understand the scale of what the word “warband” really meant. The stories he’d heard as a child did not do them justice. The steady beat of hammers from a forge filled the air. Dogs barked and chased after one another, fighting over scraps.

  The yuggernok passed through another defensive turf wall identical to the first. Within that were more tents, as well as an artillery park off to the left. In the fading light, Tovak’s eyes fell on a line of bolt throwers. Beyond them were several rows of catapults, massive machines with great iron wheels. Two of the machines were at least twenty feet tall, with massive beams and wooden arms for throwing stones.

  In the fading light, he spotted a team of engineers working on one of the dread machines. They looked to be replacing a support beam. The yuggernok turned away and the artillery park was lost from view. Then the great wagon came to an abrupt, jerking halt. Tovak almost lost his balance. The heavy locking bolt was thrown in place with a hollow thud that shuddered through the floorboards.

  They had arrived.

  The center of the encampment was a veritable city of tents, formed around a wooden watch and signal tower. The structure rose thirty feet into the air. Tovak could just make out sentries on the tower’s platform. He knew from his studies they would be equipped with a large war horn.

  Tovak reveled at the sights and sounds that surrounded him. The clatter of wooden swords against shields drew his eye to what appeared to be hundreds of warriors training, sparring against one another in an enclosed area surrounded by carts. Officers and sergeants moved amongst them.

  Formed into tight ranks, a company of warriors stomped by, moving in the direction the yuggernok had just come. Excitement, anticipation, and a wave of nervousness rippled through Tovak. This was where he was meant to be. He could feel it in his bones. Soon, his days of being an outcast, one barely tolerated by society, would be over. He would be a pioneer.

  A growing clamor of voices rose behind him. Tovak stepped away from the railing and moved to the end of the corridor. It was full of the recruits, slinging gear over their shoulders as they got themselves ready to disembark.

  “I can’t wait to get to my company,” a recruit said with no little amount of excitement. “My brother’s been with them for two years now. It will be good to see him. Hard to believe tonight I will be part of Sixth Company.”

  “The Sixth are second-rate,” Kutog jeered. “Everyone knows First Company is the best, and that’s where I’m headed.”

  “Bah,” the first recruit said. “What do you know?”

  “My company has no equal, you dumb scrugg. Everyone knows that.” Kutog struck his chest with a fist. “They only take the best, and that’s me. My father told me they reject nine out of ten applicants. The Sixth takes whatever they can get, because that’s all they can get.”

  “The best my ass,” a voice replied. “You can wipe mine if you want.”
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  Kutog spun around, but clearly could not see who had said it. His cheeks flushed with anger. Tovak almost grinned at the smug bastard’s consternation.

  “Make way,” a voice called. “I said, make way.”

  It was Kyn, the youngest of the teamsters but still considerably older than Tovak. He moved down the corridor with an old, battered ladder that had seen better days. He held it over his head. His long, wild hair and heavily braided beard were the color of copper with only hints of gray. He wore a hardened leather breastplate and long hide pants tucked into knee-high boots. Two white painted slashes on his shoulder armor indicated he held the rank of an auxiliary corporal. His bare arms revealed an array of red tattoos depicting mystical patterns from shoulder to wrist. Like a captive beast, the outline of a dragon coiled around his right arm. He held the ladder easily, and as he approached, the recruits moved aside to allow him to pass.

  “Get the latch, will you?” he asked Tovak as he reached the end. “Open the gate too.”

  “Yes, sir,” Tovak replied and moved to the gate on the far side of the deck. Kyn had been the only one of the teamsters who hadn’t gone out of his way to treat him badly or outright ignore his presence … although they hadn’t exchanged more than a handful of words during the trip.

  “Don’t call me sir,” he said. “I work for a living. The name’s Kyn or Corporal, your choice.”

  “Thank you, s—” Tovak cut himself off. The habits of the Academy had become ingrained. Anyone who was serving had been a sir. “I mean Kyn,” he corrected and then opened the gate for the teamster, swinging it wide and out into open space.

  Kyn lowered the ladder over the side and then sank two rods at the top into holes bored into the deck. The bottom of the ladder almost touched the ground. Kyn gave the ladder a jerk to make sure it was secure, then stood.

  Kutog stepped around Kyn and then roughly shoved Tovak aside with his shield. “Out of the way, Pariah,” he growled before dropping his pack to the ground below. It landed with a heavy thud. Kutog mounted the ladder and, holding his shield to the side, climbed down one-handed.

  Tovak’s temper flared again. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. When he opened them, he saw Kyn shake his head at Tovak.

  “Boffers,” the teamster grumbled under his breath. “There’s always them bastards that think they are right better than the rest of us.”

  “It’s all right,” Tovak said, although he wanted to call Kutog out and beat him senseless. He dared not, though. There was too much at stake.

  “You’re a lot more forgiving than I would be.” Kyn gave Tovak a scowl. “I’d have given him a thrashing for that. If he were on our crew, I tell you, I’d have whipped him or gotten whipped in turn. But at least I’d have stood up for myself. People like him only respect strength.”

  Tovak could have told Kyn that it never went well for him when he stood up to the likes of Kutog. Bastards like that always seemed to return with friends, and Tovak had none of his own. He could have said a lot of things, but none of it would matter. He knew that. “I’ve come a long way to get here, and he’s just not worth the effort,” was all he could manage. It sounded rather lame.

  “If you say so,” Kyn replied, sounding far from convinced, then glanced back at the other recruits, who were still getting themselves ready. “How long have you had your Age of Iron ring? You seem older than the rest.”

  “Four months,” Tovak replied, glancing at Kyn’s hand. He had noticed the ring before. “Yours is truly striking.”

  Kyn looked surprised by the compliment, holding up his hand to show off the incredibly detailed silver band, made in the form of a dragon with an obsidian orb set in its mouth. “My father crafted it for me.”

  “It’s beautiful work,” Tovak said, in honest admiration. “Your father has real skill.” His hand involuntarily went to his own Age of Iron ring, a simple band of rough iron he kept hidden beneath his tunic on a copper chain.

  Kyn paused and glanced behind him as more recruits began working their way to the ladder. “Say, I never did catch your name.”

  “Tovak,” he said simply.

  “Well then,” Kyn said, clapping him on the back, “welcome to the Blood Badgers, Tovak.” He glanced out at the encampment that stretched about in all directions. “And don’t you worry none about that bastard.” He indicated Kutog, who was heading off toward the center of the encampment with a determined stride. “He’ll be getting the education of a lifetime over the next few weeks. He’s full of himself now, but in a few hours, he won’t be. First Company’s a line formation. They’re always under the eye of Karach. Lots of spit and polish and guard duty, if you know what I mean. He’ll be the new guy in his company. If he shows too much cheek, they will cut him down and teach him a little humility or beat it into him if needed.”

  Tovak liked the thought of the latter. Kutog needed a good beating.

  “Karach’s warband is the best mix of small clans and clan-less warriors in the whole thanedom, misfits really, all of us.” Kyn pulled Tovak aside so that the recruits could begin making their way down the ladder. They began to file by. Several cast Tovak unfriendly looks before they disappeared down the ladder. Kyn seemed not to notice and instead gestured outward. There was a proud note to his voice. “I’ve been with the Badgers for ten years now. Let me tell you something, Tovak. All them other warbands look down on us because we’re a mixed bunch. This warband knows what’s what.”

  Tovak wondered where Kyn was going.

  “Who gets all the tough jobs? Who gets all the shit assignments? So, Tovak, I ask you, who is it the Thane sends for when it matters most?” Kyn paused expectantly.

  “The Blood Badgers?” Tovak offered.

  “That’s right, the Blood Badgers,” Kyn said, with a pleased grin. “Because we always get the job done. Karach Skullsplitter is the best warchief to ever lead a warband. He’s hard, but fair. We’re all misfits here. Karach has taken us all in and now we’re family.”

  “I see,” Tovak said, gazing about the encampment.

  “Do you?” Kyn asked. “You will not be the first Pariah the Blood Badgers have accepted. Nor likely the last.”

  Tovak blinked at that.

  “My advice is to do your best,” Kyn said. “Find a good company and build your own Legend. In time, things will change.”

  “Kyn,” Duroth shouted from behind on the steps that led up to the driver’s bench. “Quit your loafing and get that boffer’s feet on the ground. We’ll be unloading all night if ya keep jawing with the Pariah.”

  “You better get on down,” Kyn said, turning to Tovak. “Old Duroth might be loud, but he’s right, and despite the bark, he’s really not so bad once you get to know him.” Kyn glanced around at the stowed cargo. “We’ve got a lot of work to do before we can turn in for the night.”

  The rest of the recruits had already debarked. Tovak stepped up to the ladder, turned, and then leaned forward as he put his foot on the first rung. His Age of Iron ring slipped out of his tunic and dangled free. He quickly tucked the cheap token back inside, but not before Kyn spotted it.

  Kyn turned knowing eyes to Tovak.

  “Don’t you worry none,” Kyn said. “You’re gonna fit in just fine around here. Do you know where you’re headed?” he asked, stepping up to the edge of the deck.

  Tovak began to descend the ladder, then paused and looked back up. “I’m off to join the pioneers, but I don’t really know where to go.”

  “Not everyone can make it in the pioneers,” Kyn warned. “Most get turned away.”

  Tovak resumed climbing down the ladder. He jumped the last foot and his boots slapped down on the ground.

  “I have a Warrant of Passage from the Pioneer Academy,” Tovak said, patting his pocket where the document rested. “I even received a mark of excellence.”

  “Well done,” the teamster said, sounding impressed, though his eyes took on a sad tinge. He blew out a breath and then pointed t
oward the center of camp. “In that case, you’ll want to find Dagon Trailbreaker. He’s the captain of the Second Pioneers. Everyone around here knows who he is. I’ve never met him, but I hear he’s a real bastard”—Kyn gave a shrug of his shoulders—“but with a mark of excellence, he might just take you in, Pariah or no. Head toward the center of camp and look for a tall green and black banner with a durvoll on it, you know, the big dog-looking thing with six legs.”

  Tovak nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Safe journeys, young Tovak … May your Legend never fade.”

  “May you always find the Way.” Tovak bowed his head briefly.

  Gazing down on Tovak, Kyn hesitated a moment, looked about to say more … then turned and was lost from view.

  Tovak bit his lip. Had he just read pity in the other’s eyes? Tovak shook his head. Perhaps he’d just imagined it.

  As he stepped away from the ladder, he found himself moving with a lighter step than he’d had in a very long time. Garand’Durbaad lay far behind him, as did his past and the pain that came with it. The mere possibility of what lay ahead filled him with a sudden excitement.

  “They don’t know my family,” he said quietly, a smile creeping onto his face. It was why he had chosen the Blood Badgers. The warband was a mix of all the clans. “I am finally my own Dvergr.” He traced a finger over his Age of Iron ring, feeling it beneath his tunic. It might be of the lowest quality, but it marked the beginning of his adulthood, where he could truly shape his own future.

  It was enough.

  If you would like to read more, and I hope you do … follow the link to Amazon: Reclaiming Honor