“You would do the same if you came home to find a stranger in your camp,” Tarq grunted.
Garnuk shrugged, a little self-consciously. “Probably,” he agreed. “We should not linger here any longer though. There’s a decent chance our little duel was heard by the Ramshuk’s hunters.”
“Don’t call him that,” Tarq snarled. “He is no true Ramshuk. You know that as well as I.”
“Then – ?”
“Call him Usurper if you must name him at all,” Tarq said, cutting him off. “He is not worthy of the title he stole, nor worthy of the loyalty of our people.”
“As you wish,” Garnuk agreed, inclining his head. “I rather like that adjustment myself. It makes my new plan seem more justified and more likely to succeed.”
Tarq’s eyes lit up with interest. “A new plan? Tell me!”
“Not yet. Not here, this close to Dun Carryl. We’ll need to find a new camp. Assuming you wish to accompany me.”
“There is enough room here for two.”
“But the Usurper’s hunters – ”
“Will not find us,” Tarq replied, stepping past Garnuk and into the shelter of the cliff’s rocky overhang. He gripped one of the outcrops in the stone face and pulled. It slid aside easily and Garnuk saw that it was not really part of the cliff face at all, but a thin sheet of stone arranged to look like part of the cliff. Behind the stone face was a dark opening, no doubt the entrance to a cave.
“It may be a little cramped,” Tarq said, stepping aside to let Garnuk enter. “But it is well-concealed and warm.”
Garnuk moved forward cautiously, looking around to make sure they were not being observed. Then, he ducked quickly into the cave. Tarq followed, wrestling the stone back into place behind them. The sheet rested in a rough socket, probably carved by Tarq when he had first set up this shelter.
Inside, the cave was rather larger than Garnuk had expected, though with two vertaga it was a squeeze. The space was roughly circular, four meters across with a low ceiling. Garnuk struck his head on a hanging rock and cursed quietly.
“Watch your horns,” Tarq said belatedly. He was slightly taller than Garnuk, and was moving in a crouch to avoid hitting his head.
“Thanks,” Garnuk muttered, sitting against the back wall. To his left stood a neat pile of supplies and a half-full pack. He shrugged off his own pack and sighed.
“This is a good hideout.”
“It’s serviceable,” Tarq agreed, sitting beside his supplies. “A little close to Dun Carryl for my liking, but that stone door is the best concealed entrance I’ve been able to find yet.”
“How long have you been on the run?” Garnuk asked quietly, looking around the dark cave.
“Almost as long as you. Nine years. The Usurper drove many of us out when he couldn’t find you.”
“He didn’t just execute you?”
Tarq smirked. “He would have, if we hadn’t slipped away before he got the chance. Rumors had started reaching my ears that something like that might happen. So, I passed word along to all of your officers and old friends and we slipped out of the fortress in the night. Everybody scattered after that. I don’t know where any of them are or if some have been caught.”
“A few have been caught,” Garnuk murmured. “The hunting parties would always gloat about their most recent kill when they met me. How many would you say escaped?”
“Perhaps forty?”
Garnuk frowned. “I’d say about half have been found then. Seems like the hunters get about two kills a year.”
“That’s many a good warrior slain,” Tarq observed, shaking his head sorrowfully.
“Aye, and many a good friend. The Usurper would do better to use their knowledge and skill.”
“What for?” Tarq asked curiously.
“Have you heard of his latest plans?”
“No. I’ve been on the run, same as you.”
Garnuk grunted. “I ran into a raiding party the other day, taking supplies from a human trade caravan.”
“Raiding humans? That’s the sort of attention we don’t need to draw to ourselves,” Tarq growled, his long claws scratching at the ground in front of him agitatedly.
“Precisely my thinking,” Garnuk agreed, keeping his voice low. “But that’s not all. The leader of that band said his orders came directly from the Usurper, that this was the first stage in a new plan or something.”
“Interesting,” Tarq murmured, his scratching claws freezing for a moment as he contemplated this information. “What do you suppose they are up to?”
“I think they mean to declare war on the world of men.”
Tarq snorted derisively. “As though that could succeed. Remember what happened the first time?”
“That was not my fault.”
“I was not blaming you, or your tactics. But men are more resilient than we once thought. Even if the slaughter at the Gorge had not happened, I am not sure we would have won. Not by marching to man’s homes anyway. Their lands are not the sort of terrain we are used to fighting in. We have no equal in the mountains, but out there on the flatlands they have a significant advantage with their horses and their accursed machines of war.”
“The men lost much during the war,” Garnuk pointed out.
“As did we.”
“But the balance of power is more even now,” Garnuk countered. “I think, and I am only guessing based on what I know, that there is a chance neither side gains the upper hand in a new war. It provides a unique opportunity to enterprising individuals.”
Tarq’s eyes narrowed and he leaned forward intently. “Explain.”
Garnuk leaned back against the wall of the cave, looking up at the ceiling. “The Usurper will have his little war, one way or another. Maybe he wins, maybe he doesn’t. The balance is uncertain at the moment. But if the scales could be manipulated to swing in favor of one side or the other at certain points in time throughout the struggle, the result of the war could also be controlled.”
Tarq nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I think such a plan would work. Difficult, but possible.”
“And, when both sides were weak enough, those enterprising individuals could make their move. Our people would be tired of fighting and losing to men. They would thirst for victory once more, for an end to the war.”
“We could provide that,” Tarq realized. “A satisfying and victorious end to the war. Such an accomplishment would give us influence and momentum. We could take control of our kin once more.”
“And cast down the Usurper,” Garnuk agreed, nodding sharply. “It would be no small feat though.”
“No,” Tarq agreed. “And it would be risky. The chances of being caught and killed . . .” He shrugged dispiritedly. “These last nine years haven’t been easy, old friend, but throughout it all I have survived. I still have my life.”
“But little else,” Garnuk growled. “Besides, a life skulking in the shadows with no ambition or goals is hardly life at all. Hardly worth living if you ask me.”
“You are actually considering acting on this plan?” Tarq asked, his voice rising slightly in surprise.
“Yes,” Garnuk replied immediately. “I want to do something with what remains of my life. This may be an opportunity to reclaim that which was taken from me.” There was a slight hitch to his voice as he finished the second sentence, slight enough that Garnuk thought Tarq wouldn’t notice. But of course, he did.
The other vertag cocked his head curiously. “You’re not just talking about taking back Dun Carryl and becoming the Ramshuk again,” he observed quietly. “There’s something else that you want from all of this. Something more precious to you. Something which might be worth dying for.”
Garnuk hesitated for a moment, then nodded wordlessly.
Tarq leaned forward. “They survived?” he whispered. “You are sure of this?”
“I saw them myself, earlier today,” Garnuk replied. “My mate and cub, made to be slaves.”
Tarq’s gaze hardened an
grily. “Indeed,” he murmured. “At least they live.”
“Barely.”
Silence stretched between them for a long moment. Finally, Tarq sat back with a sigh, shaking his head.
“Are you with me?” Garnuk asked tentatively, fearing that his friend would not join him.
Tarq thought about this for several seconds. “Let’s say I decide to risk it,” he said finally, staring at Garnuk. “That I decide to join you. What’s our next move?”
“Find a base,” Garnuk replied immediately. “And some allies.”
“Any ideas about where we might do that?”
Garnuk smiled grimly. “I have one.”
“I suppose one is better than none,” Tarq muttered. “Where?”
“If I tell you, and then you don’t join me, I will have to kill you,” Garnuk warned.
Tarq shrugged. “Don’t worry about that.”
“Then you’re in?”
“No, I’m saying you won’t be able to kill me,” Tarq said, grinning. “I would have won our fight earlier if we had kept at it much longer.”
“No,” Garnuk spat. “You would not have. I have nothing to lose, Tarq, and everything to gain. I am desperate and driven. There is nothing, no obstacle of any sort, that will stop me from achieving victory.”
Tarq flinched, as though he had read something dangerous in Garnuk’s smoldering gaze. He looked away, refusing to meet the former Ramshuk’s eyes for a moment.
“Perhaps you’re right,” he allowed finally. “Not that it really matters. I will join you in your quest to depose the Usurper and restore the vertaga to their former glory.”
“Excellent,” Garnuk said, smiling for the first time. “It will be good to have you at my side once more.”
“It will be an honor to serve again,” Tarq agreed. “Now, where are we going? Where are these allies we will seek out? Who are they?”
“There are at least twenty of our old comrades scattered through the mountains, maybe more,” Garnuk reminded him. “They will do for our army initially.”
“Twenty? Against the Usurper’s forces?”
“We will win by stealth, not force,” Garnuk explained. “The key to all of this is anonymity. Which is why we are going south tomorrow.”
Tarq groaned. “You can’t be serious. You mean to seek refuge with . . . with them?”
Garnuk nodded stoically. “Aye.”
“You think they will harbor us?”
“They certainly won’t turn us over to the Usurper.”
“No,” Tarq agreed. “They will not. But they might just kill us themselves.”
“There’s only one way to find out,” Garnuk said with an air of finality. “Get some rest. Tomorrow, we begin our search for the lost tribe of the Banuk.”
Chapter 4:
The Search Begins
When the two vertaga departed the next morning, the sun was still hidden behind the mountains to the east. A pale gray light was stretching across the sky though, gradually brightening with each passing moment. All around them peaks and trees cast tremendous shadows, plunging valley, vale, and ravine into nightlike darkness.
Garnuk was leading the way, carefully picking his path through the broken terrain of coniferous trees and boulders. The two travelers kept to the lower slopes mostly, trying to avoid going up and down constantly.
Tarq followed along behind, stumbling occasionally as he lost his balance. This was not a result of clumsiness though. Tarq was a skilled warrior, with excellent coordination. But he was constantly scanning the surrounding terrain for threats, and so his eyes were not on the trail like Garnuk’s were. This led to some things being overlooked; stones that turned under his heel, exposed tree roots snaring his toes, and whippy branches slapping at his torso and limbs as Garnuk released them.
The sun was not even properly up before he started questioning Garnuk’s plan though.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked less than half an hour into the journey.
The Exile took the question philosophically. He wasn’t sure of the answer himself, and it was natural that Tarq should be nervous, given how the Banuk usually treated outsiders.
“It is the best option we have,” he replied finally, circling a larger boulder. “The Banuk are isolationists. They keep to themselves and don’t let humans or other vertaga bother them. The Ramshuk technically controls them and is superior to their chief, but I have yet to see a Ramshuk successfully impose his will on the Banuk tribe.”
“I’ve never understood how they get away with such behavior,” Tarq admitted, scratching at his horns. “The other clans, they all fall in line and serve, even if one of their own was bested in the struggle to become Ramshuk. But the Banuk stay out of all of it somehow.”
Garnuk shrugged. “It’s simple really. The Banuk are one of the largest tribes and their fighters are among the best. It would take a massive effort to beat them into submission. In addition, no outsider knows exactly where their village is. It’s a closely guarded secret. The only thing I know is that it is near the coast to the south.”
“A long way from anything,” Tarq muttered.
“Yes,” Garnuk agreed. “Another reason they act nearly autonomously. The further one is from a ruler, the weaker the ruler’s control.”
“That distance could be a problem for us,” Tarq murmured thoughtfully, cursing as he stumbled again.
“How so?”
“In order to make the right moves at the right time, we will need information,” Tarq explained. “And if we are holed up with the Banuk, information will be hard to come by.”
“Potentially,” Garnuk agreed, frowning. “We only need the Banuk for a little while though. Just to gather our forces. Then, maybe, we can find a better base of operations.”
“Like where?”
Garnuk ground his teeth together in frustration. “I don’t know. We’ll figure it out when we get there. I don’t know everything, Tarq.”
“Sorry,” Tarq muttered. “It’s just . . . this is dangerous, Garnuk. And while you are a living legend amongst our people, we are not infallible.”
“I am no legend.”
“No?” Tarq laughed. “You are the Exile, the only ram to elude the best hunters of our race effortlessly, frustrating them at every turn. Other warriors speak of you in awe, the Usurper’s minions whisper fearfully about your deeds.”
“There is not always much truth in a legend,” Garnuk mused. “Besides, as you said, we are not infallible. We are mortal, susceptible to the wounds of the flesh, and we bleed and die like any other creature. We can make mistakes, and we can lose much because of them.” He shook his horned head slowly. “Legends do not have to contend with such flaws and encumberences.”
Tarq fell silent then, and focused on keeping his footing on the side of the mountain.
The day wore on. The two vertaga continued toiling southwards, struggling over the shoulders of the mountains. They saw little life along the way. There were occasional mountain goats, some small ground mammals and the insects that populated every place around the world, but not much else besides. Once, Garnuk caught sight of a hawk circling a nearby peak, but it vanished almost as quickly as he had seen it.
Three days into the journey, it began to snow. Not a light snow, as one would expect this early in the season, but a full-blown mountain blizzard. Fat white flakes swirled down from the lofty peaks, smashing into Garnuk and Tarq and turning to miniscule patches of icy water. On the slopes of the mountains, drifts began to form and the ground was soon slick and slushy with a treacherous mix of ice, snow, and nearly frozen water.
Their progress thereafter was significantly reduced. Each day the two vertaga only covered a few miles, wending their way slowly southwards. It did not help that they had only a rough idea of where the Banuk tribe actually was. Garnuk was having a hard time keeping his sense of direction, with the landscape changing as rapidly as it was.
Two days after it had begun, the storm reached its
peak. Snow swirled in thick sheets, driven by the wind, battering the two travelers and making everything more than a few meters away all but invisible. Garnuk plowed doggedly on, though the snow was knee deep in places and he was uncertain of the terrain. There was no time to waste. They had to find the Banuk, had to continue moving forward.
A hand grabbed him roughly by the shoulder, spinning him around. Garnuk snarled in surprise and whirled around, reaching for his sword. But it was only Tarq. The other vertag was crusted with snow from his boots to his horns, which were covered in a thin layer of ice.
“We can’t go much further like this!” he shouted over the roar of the wind. “We have to find shelter.”
Garnuk shook his head. “We can rest when we find the Banuk!” he shouted back.
“We can hardly find each other in this storm,” Tarq protested. “How exactly do you plan to go about finding the lost tribe in this weather?”
“Keep moving and hope we get lucky,” Garnuk muttered.
“What?”
“Never mind,” the Exile grunted. He scanned what little he could see of the surrounding land and sighed, defeated. “You’re right, Tarq. There’s no sense in going any further today. Let’s find someplace to shelter before we freeze.”
“Or we fall off the mountain,” Tarq added nervously, looking left and right.
Garnuk had not considered this disturbing possibility. Now that Tarq had brought it up though, he looked around uneasily, trying to get his bearings.
“Do you know of any caves nearby?” he called.
“Don’t know where we are,” Tarq grunted, shrugging apologetically.
“Then we’d best find a cliff face and dig in,” Garnuk decided. “We’ll move uphill a bit, see if we can find something.”
“Wouldn’t downhill be easier?” Tarq shouted.
Garnuk nodded. “Yes, but I would rather discover a cliff I cannot see going uphill than going downhill.”
Tarq thought about this for a moment, then dipped his horned head. “Fair point,” he decided. “Uphill it is. Lead on, Garnuk.”
The Exile turned to his left and began struggling uphill, pausing every few paces to look left and right for suitable resting places. But the snow obscured nearly everything.
The Ramshuk (Heirs of Legacy Book 3) Page 3