The Ramshuk (Heirs of Legacy Book 3)

by Paul Lauritsen

  “I don’t understand.”

  The vertag smiled. “You are about to see why the Banuk have been able to remain hidden so long.” He turned and looked back at his warriors. “Give the signal.”

  The twelve warriors raised their spears and shields as one, then rammed them against the ground with a muffled thump that reverberated through the forest. The branches on the trees to the left and right shook slightly, and a few needles and snowflakes fluttered downwards.

  But not ahead of them. In front of the little group, the trees remained motionless. Exactly as they had looked a moment ago. Garnuk frowned, wanting to step forward and examine these trees further.

  Before he could though, a crack appeared in the tree directly in front of him. The crack widened as two tall doors swung outwards. Strangely, the doors seemed rather narrow despite their immense height, six meters by Garnuk’s estimate. Then, the opening continued to widen, passing the boundaries of the tree and allowing light to shine through from beyond. And in that moment, Garnuk realized what he had been looking at. Once he understood, it was obvious.

  To his left and right stretched an enormous stone wall. The surface was smooth and unblemished, each block skillfully crafted and precisely placed to minimize telltale irregularities. And on the surface of this beautiful, perfect wall was the forest. A painting, Garnuk realized. A painting so skillfully done, so detailed that it appeared to be an extension of the valley. Everything was perfectly in line. The way the needle-covered ground stretched away into the distance, the way the trunks marched off in loose ranks. Every single tree, branch, and needle lifelike and exquisite.

  “Unbelievable,” Garnuk murmured.

  The Banuk warriors around him were smiling contemptuously at his awed expression. “Wait until you see the rest of our home,” one muttered.

  At that, Garnuk abruptly turned his attention to the now open gate, and the space beyond. Struck dumb with amazement, he followed his escort through the gate and into a vertaga stronghold unlike any he had ever seen before.

  The pine forest continued here as well, stretching up towards the sky. But this was not a natural forest either. It was a built environment, composed of wood and stone. Massive pillars carved like fir trees towered over everything, touching the sky. Or were they? Garnuk looked closer and saw that the sky was not there either. There was a stone roof high above, irregular and painted to look like a pleasant afternoon sky, but a roof nonetheless. The stone pillars supported it at regular intervals, creating the largest sheltered, open space that the Exile had ever seen. Irregular gaps in the roof allowed sunlight to shine through, supplemented by thousands of torches and lanterns around the city on all levels.

  “How is this possible?” he wondered aloud.

  The Banuk leader looked back at him. “The Banuk have been hidden for thousands of years. Since the ancient purge, when our kind were nearly destroyed. This dwelling was built just prior to those dark days. Ever since, it has hidden our people from every other creature in the world.”

  “Is the outside painted as well, or-?

  “Yes. From above, this place looks like a foothill of the mountains.”

  “Incredible,” Tarq observed, turning in a slow circle. Garnuk had nearly forgotten that he was there.

  “That’s a poor word for it,” Garnuk countered, looking back at the gate. The doors were shut once more. From this side, the wall was obvious. Banuk warriors, armed with the same shields and spears that their escort was armed with, paced the ramparts, occasionally peering through cunning window slits at the outside world.

  As they moved further into the city, Garnuk momentarily forgot his mission and simply looked around in wonder. On all sides were ornate houses of wood and stone. Most were multiple stories and appeared to contain full extended families. Above the houses were wooden platforms connected to the stone ceiling supports. There were buildings on these platforms as well, but they were almost always built around the pillars. The causeways between pillars sagged a little, and Garnuk noted with interest that they were actually held up by thick ropes, allowing them the freedom to swing back and forth if needed. Around the pillars, spiraling wooden stairs provided access to the upper levels of the city.

  And everywhere Garnuk looked, on both levels, were the people of the Banuk tribe. They looked much the same as any other vertaga physically, but there was a warmth and cheerfulness to them rare among other tribes. Most faces were smiling, or at least friendly, and Garnuk saw no open hostility from the commoners in the tribe.

  The warriors of the Banuk were a different matter though. They scowled suspiciously at Garnuk’s group whenever they crossed paths and snarled and spat at them sometimes. One particularly angry vertag stopped right in front of the group and shouted at the leader, wildly gesturing at Garnuk and Tarq.

  “Ganta voln kur! Koah luntap sen na!”

  Garnuk didn’t understand the words, but he could read the hostility in them anyway. Apparently, the Banuk had not only cut themselves off from other vertaga, but also developed their own dialect. When no one in the small band answered the irate vertag, he wandered off, still grumbling.

  “What did he want?” Garnuk asked.

  The leader shifted uncomfortably. “He wanted to know who you were, and why I had brought you here.”

  Garnuk frowned, trying to match that information with what he had heard. Some of the words were similar then. Except one that he could not jam into place. Then, a thought struck him.

  “Your name is Koah?”

  “Yes,” their guide replied curtly. “I assume that you deduced that from our loud-mouthed friend?”

  “Yes.”

  “Impressive,” Koah observed. “Not many could evaluate our language that quickly and easily.”

  Garnuk shrugged. “It was an interesting puzzle, and I like puzzles. They keep my mind working properly, keep it expanding and developing.”

  “It is a powerful weapon, the mind,” Koah replied. “The Banuk tribe knows that better than any other. For we have been in the business of tricking minds for an eternity.”

  The Exile nodded absently, then went back to looking around. Ahead, he could see the land beginning to rise, no doubt the beginning of the mountains that separated the valley from the coast. And at the foot of the mountain, built into it in classic vertaga fashion, was a dwelling that put the other buildings within the Banuk city to shame.

  This building was ten stories at least, built entirely of stone. Battlemented towers and guarded walkways festooned every level, and there was a tall gate with squat round towers flanking it. The structure disappeared seamlessly into the mountainside, and Garnuk knew from experience that the fortress could easily be ten times as large as it appeared from the outside.

  “Welcome to our stronghold,” Koah said as they approached. “The chief awaits.”

  “Do you think he will look favorably on us?” Garnuk murmured.

  Koah shrugged. “How should I know? I know nothing of who you are, where you come from, or what you are here for.”

  “You do know your chief though.”

  “Yes,” Koah agreed as they passed through the gate and ascended a flight of stone steps. “I do know him. And I know he does not like trespassers. Which means you are not off to a good start.”

  Garnuk nodded and looked back at Tarq. “Tread carefully, my friend.”

  Tarq snorted. “All I have to do is stand there. You’ll be doing the talking, remember?”

  “Right,” Garnuk muttered distractedly as they passed through the main entrance and into a small, square hall with a high ceiling.

  They halted in front of two towering stone doors, carved with a beautiful image of a mountain glade, fearsome Banuk warriors standing guard between the trees. Koah turned to Garnuk, meeting his eyes.

  “Are you ready?”

  Garnuk took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and nodded decisively. “Yes.”

  Koah shrugged and gestured to two of his warriors. They sprang forward
immediately and hauled the doors open. Koah led the column through, into a large domed chamber.

  The ceiling was not excessively or impressively high, only twenty feet or so. The walls and roof were carved and painted in the same manner as the door had been, though some battle scenes were included here as well. The room was perfectly circular, an unusual choice. And in the center of the room on a raised platform, rather than at the far end, was where the chief sat.

  In the center of the platform stood a fire ring with a merry blaze crackling away. The smoke drifted lazily upwards and through a small aperture in the roof. Where it went after that, Garnuk could not say. On the far side of the fire ring, in a solid chair of sanded pine wood sat the Banuk chief.

  He was not large or muscular. Nor was he clad for battle. Instead he wore a simple robe in forest colors. His head was bare, his feet clad in sandals. A club leaned against his chair, the head studded with triangular metal wedges, the hilt wrapped in leather for a sure grip. A small circular shield leaned against the other side of the chief’s chair, very similar to the one that Garnuk carried.

  The small party came to a halt before the chief, and Koah bowed deeply.

  “Chief Carh of Banuk,” the warrior intoned. “I apologize for the intrusion, but these visitors have insisted on an audience with you.”

  The chief did not raise his eyes from the fire. “Visitors, Sentinel? The Banuk tribe does not tolerate visitors. Explain yourself.”

  Koah licked his lips anxiously. “We captured them initially, but as we were preparing to execute them, this one disarmed me and captured me.” He gestured weakly to Garnuk, who was standing a little to the side and behind the Sentinel.

  “You let him capture you,” the chief observed. “Not your finest hour, Sentinel.”

  “It was a mistake that will not be repeated.”

  “And your warriors could not free you?”

  “Not without almost certainly ending my life.”

  Silence stretched for several long moments. Garnuk started to move forward, intending to speak, but Koah stopped him with an urgent shake of his head.

  The chief sat rock still a moment longer, then stirred in his chair, still gazing into the flames. “I take it that the ones you briefly captured demanded an audience in exchange for your life, Sentinel?”

  “Yes,” Koah replied. “They did.”

  “So you traded our security, our anonymity for your own life?”

  “No!” Koah shouted quickly. “I made an educated decision. These two vertaga have shown us no hostility and given us no trouble. They requested a meeting, nothing more. I do not believe that they mean us any harm.”

  “That is not yours to decide,” the Banuk chief replied grimly. “The soothsayers keep telling me that a great change is coming. An opportunity. They cannot tell me more, other than that there is risk and danger in all paths.”

  “Including staying hidden?” Garnuk asked, tired of being ignored.

  The Banuk chief looked up irritably, finding Garnuk’s eyes almost immediately. As he did, his own eyes widened and he sat back, fixing Garnuk with a calculating stare.

  “How interesting,” Chief Carh murmured. “Koah, you should have told me who our guest was.”

  “I didn’t know – ”

  “You never asked? No matter, I recognized him immediately. It has been many years though, and quite frankly I wasn’t sure that the Exile still lived.”

  “I do,” Garnuk replied, inclining his head. “And I am here with an opportunity for you, great chief.”

  Chief Carh nodded slowly, troubled. “Yes, I assumed as much. Sit, Garnuk, and speak. I am ready to listen.”

  Chapter 7:

  Path to the Future

  Garnuk stood where he was a moment, confused, then slowly stepped forward and took a seat across from the Banuk chief. Carh studied him through narrowed eyes for a long moment, then sat back with a wry smile.

  “You do not remember me, do you Exile?”

  Garnuk hesitated, then decided that honesty was likely the best course. “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember you.”

  Carh nodded. “It is not surprising. You only saw me once a year when you were Ramshuk, and that was many years ago. In addition, we Banuk tend to watch and listen rather than participate in events. We do not often claim the spotlight for ourselves.”

  Garnuk nodded thoughtfully. “It would be easy to miss observers such as you at those gatherings. As Ramshuk, I was constantly on the lookout for the next problem or obstacle. And problematic chiefs insert themselves into the center of things rather than watch.”

  “They might have more success working from the shadows,” Carh observed, lacing his fingers together and leaning back in his chair. “It has worked for the Banuk for thousands of years. Since before some tribes were founded even.”

  “You keep saying thousands of years,” Tarq broke in from behind Garnuk. “And you speak of the other tribes as though they are younger than your own.”

  “And Koah spoke of a purge,” Garnuk added, looking at the Banuk warrior curiously. “The only purge I remember is the one at the end of the war ten years ago.”

  “No,” Carh said, shaking his head sorrowfully. “That was not the only purge. In fact, compared to the original purge your unlucky defeat was a mere footnote in our history.”

  “What happened?” Tarq asked, moving up beside Garnuk, eager for a story.

  Carh studied them carefully, then sighed. “The tale is too long and complex for us to discuss now, but I will tell you this much. The vertaga were led then by a Ramshuk who meant to claim the world. But he partnered with the wrong allies to achieve that end. Our side was defeated badly, our allies wiped out, and our race nearly extinguished. Fortunately, an isolationist sect had already been working on Banta Kodu, our home, for many years. They were suspicious of the outside world, and thought it best not to meddle in its affairs.”

  “And this happened how long ago?” Garnuk asked.

  “Four thousand years at least,” Koah replied, bowing his head.

  “Why have we not heard of it?” Garnuk muttered. “I was a Ramshuk once!”

  “It is not common knowledge because outside of the Banuk few vertaga survived,” Carh explained. “Our entire race was shattered, disorganized, scattered on the wind. The survivors were more concerned with rebuilding what had been lost than they were with recording history. They went on to found the many tribes we know today. Over time, the memory of the slaughter faded to nothing for all but the Banuk.”

  “And now,” Carh added, gazing at Garnuk, “An outsider has come into our home with a so-called opportunity. That is how the purge began, Garnuk. Consider carefully what you are about to propose.”

  “I have,” Garnuk replied smoothly. “Tell me, Chief Carh, do you have scouts elsewhere in the Fells? Keeping an eye on things as it were?”

  “Beyond our lands no,” Carh replied immediately. “The risk of capture is too great. If the secret of our home was torn from a captured warrior, we would lose everything.”

  “Quite so,” Garnuk murmured. “Then you are unaware that the current Ramshuk’s soldiers have started raiding human trade caravans in the Fells?”

  “Completely unaware,” Carh snarled, leaning forward and fixing Garnuk with an unnerving stare. “Why is he doing this? What does he hope to gain?”

  “A war,” Garnuk replied, looking around at the other warriors and Koah. “A war with the world of men. A battle for vengeance, to establish our kin as the dominant race of these lands. The Usurper believes he can accomplish this. Why I do not know. By my estimates, our armies are not as strong or as well led as before – though I may be biased there – and the armies of men are no doubt just as strong if not stronger than ever.”

  “Oh?” Carh asked, raising an eyebrow. “You dealt them a serious blow in the first war, Exile.”

  “But their resources and population are far greater than our own,” Garnuk countered. “It took us ten years to recover. Ten lon
g years. In that time, the humans will have recovered and surpassed what they once had. They rule the vast majority of the world after all, and control most of its resources.”

  “A reasonable analysis,” Carh grunted. “So, the Ramshuk is fighting a war which cannot be won.”

  “I believe so.”

  “And this brought you here. Why, Exile? To seek refuge? Or for some other purpose?”

  Garnuk stared into the flames for a long moment. “I came here for a few reasons,” he said finally. “First, the Ramshuk cannot find me here. He still has his best soldiers on my trail, you know. Second, I needed a place from where I might operate to either thwart the Ramshuk’s scheme or mitigate the damage.”

  Carh said nothing, so Garnuk continued, still gazing into the writhing fire.

  “The war stands in favor of men right now, but if the Usurper continues the war the same way it was fought the first time, the odds will even somewhat. At that point, the result could be driven either way depending on luck and chance. I intend to manipulate that balance, and so control the war.”

  “How?” Carh interjected. “You are one vertag.”

  “Information,” Garnuk replied immediately. “One vertag is not much of an army. But information in the right hands at the right time can change the course of a battle. And changing the result of a battle can change the course of a war.”

  “An interesting idea,” the Banuk chief observed. “But to sell information, or hand it out if that is what you desire, you first have to obtain it. One vertag is not much use there either. Or even two,” he added, glancing at Tarq.

  Garnuk nodded. “Which is why I am here. I need a place to gather information from all over the world, analyze it, and then use it. Sometimes to thwart men, sometimes to thwart the Usurper, depending on which way the scales need to be balanced.”

  “Hold on,” Koah interrupted. “Why hinder our own kin? I thought the point of this was to win the war?”

  Garnuk sighed, affecting a mournful expression. Secretly, he was pleased with how the conversation was going. He had the Banuk thinking, and considering his plan. Far better than being killed on sight.