“That depends on how you define winning,” he said finally, grimacing for effect. “The thing is, there simply are not enough vertaga to take over the entire world. We would be spread too thin, even if we did not lose thousands of warriors to the Sthan armies in the struggle. The only way for us to win this war, is if both sides suffer too badly to continue. The humans would never trouble us again, and our reckless, warmongering leader would be replaced with someone more attuned to our kind’s need to stay hidden and safe here in the Fells.”
“You would sacrifice your kin for total isolation?” Carh asked frowning.
“For future safety,” Garnuk countered. “Isolation, keeping to ourselves, it is the only safe path into the future. The Banuk learned this long ago. Unfortunately, the rest of our race has yet to learn the same.”
The Banuk chief sat back in his chair, apparently surprised by this turn of events. But he still exuded a slightly skeptical air. Garnuk could tell he was not yet convinced.
“A pretty speech, Exile. And well-rehearsed. But if I remember correctly, you were the Ramshuk who broke our isolation ten years ago, and created this problem.”
Garnuk nodded. “Yes. I learned much from the war. I learned how arrogant I was to assume we could overthrow the world of men. I learned they are not so easily broken. And I learned that as powerful as our race is, we have limitations. There simply are not enough of us, and even the strongest vertag can be overcome by five or ten weaker opponents. Isolation was our strength. Our defense. Our shelter, and our promise of a future. Now that I have come to realize this, I am trying to rectify the mistakes I once made.”
The Exile was watching Carh closely, looking for any reaction at all. But there was none. He did notice the Banuk chief’s eyes flicker to Tarq and back though. Garnuk followed his gaze and noted that Tarq’s features were carefully arranged in an expression of polite interest.
“That is it?” Carh asked dubiously. “You aim to correct your mistakes? How very noble of you.”
Garnuk’s jaw tightened, but he made no other reply, waiting for the chief to elaborate.
“You expect us to trust you because you have seen the error of your ways,” Carh continued. “You expect me to believe that now, ten years later, you understand perfectly what went wrong and how to fix it. And,” he continued, fixing Garnuk with a cold stare, “You expect me to believe that you, a former Ramshuk, not only realized you were wrong but freely admit it? And that the extent of your motivation is that you wish to atone for your mistakes?”
Garnuk shifted uncomfortably. He did not want to reveal his real motivation. It was too private, too painful a manner to discuss openly.
“That is not all,” Tarq interjected. Garnuk swung around to glare at him irritably.
“What do you mean?” Koah asked.
“My general is motivated by much greater things than honor or nobility,” Tarq explained.
Garnuk looked down into the flames, fuming inwardly. He could feel Carh and Koah’s eyes on him, waiting for an explanation.
“My cause is for all vertaga,” he said finally, barely more than a whisper. “But there are two who have suffered more dearly than any others as a result of my actions. My mate and cub still live, but they are little more than slaves. I saw them not long ago, laboring under the blows of the Usurper’s soldiers.”
“You wish to depose the Ramshuk in order to free them?” Chief Carh asked. “In order to return to them the life they once had?”
“You risk much for so little,” Koah observed, glancing at his chief.
“As I said, my cause is for all vertaga,” Garnuk repeated. “But this personal matter is what will motivate me through the greatest trials I face, through the most difficult problems, and the most dangerous missions. They will give me the strength to do what must be done.”
Silence fell, save for the crackling of the fire. Koah and his warriors stood impassively, watching their chief. Tarq was looking down at his feet, trying to hide somehow in the center of everyone’s attention. But Garnuk watched the Banuk chief, who seemed deep in thought, his thick fingers laced together, peering over the top of them into the fire ring.
After what seemed like an eternity, he stirred slightly and met Garnuk’s gaze. There was no approval there, but there was also no condemnation. What Garnuk saw in those eyes was nothing. Nothing at all. Somehow, this was more unnerving than if the other vertag were glaring at him and preparing to order a death sentence.
“If the Banuk were to offer help, what would you require?” he asked at last.
“Sanctuary,” Garnuk replied immediately. “That would be the primary need. I would also need your best scouts to comb the Fells for other exiled survivors. After that, a place to meet with my followers and listen to their reports. Eventually, perhaps, I may need a few soldiers.”
Carh nodded slowly. “Then I believe we can help you,” he said softly. He looked around the room at the assembled warriors. “Koah and his warriors are among the best we have at moving without being seen. You may command them as your own, unless I need them elsewhere or you give them orders which put the Banuk at risk.”
“Thank you,” Garnuk replied, dipping his head slightly.
“As for the rest, we will need to talk further,” Carh said, sitting back in his chair and stretching out his legs in front of him. “We cannot have the location of Banta Kodu become common knowledge among vertaga who live beyond these walls.”
“I could have them go to a nearby point,” Garnuk suggested. “Then they can be brought here, blindfolded, by some of your Sentinels.”
Carh shrugged noncommittedly. “As I said, we would need to discuss this matter further before making anything final.”
“Soon, I hope,” Garnuk put in. “We are short on time already, Chief Carh.”
“I know,” Carh replied. “That is why this very night I will dispatch a score of my best warriors to begin scouting the Fells. They will have instructions to learn what they can of the Ramshuk’s plans. This much I can do without arousing suspicion, I think. And,” he added, chuckling, “It will help me verify your story, Exile. Do not make the mistake of thinking I trust you. I have merely given you the benefit of the doubt for now.”
“Again, thank you,” Garnuk said, glancing at Tarq. The other vertag smiled slightly, clenching his fists and knocking them together, a small gesture of triumph.
“Do not mistake me,” Carh said sharply. Garnuk looked up worriedly. “The Banuk are not yours to command, Exile,” the chief continued, fixing Garnuk with a penetrating look. “Nor are we your committed allies, ready to lay down our lives for you. Our interests temporarily coincide. No more, no less.”
“It is understood,” Garnuk affirmed, nodding decisively for emphasis.
“Good,” Carh said, turning to face Koah. “Sentinel Koah, I place you and your soldiers at Garnuk’s disposal. Obey his command, unless it contradicts my own. If there is any doubt, come to me before acting. Is that clear?”
“Yes, great chief,” Koah murmured, bowing low and touching his horns with his right index finger.
“Very good,” the Banuk chief said, sitting up straighter and touching his war club lightly. “Very, very good. The Banuk have gained a new friend this day. Let us hope the Exile can help us not only topple the current, misguided Ramshuk at Dun Carryl, but also thwart the armies of men and usher in a new age of peace and secrecy for all of our kind.”
“It is a goal I will unfalteringly strive for,” Garnuk promised. “To end the suffering of all tribes.”
Carh inclined his head gravely. “Then our business is concluded for now. Koah, give them quarters here in the stronghold. A little out of the main path of things, just to be on the safe side.”
“Yes, chief.”
Garnuk and Tarq rose and bowed slightly, then turned to go. But Carh stopped Garnuk quickly.
“Exile. I know you have been hunted by the Ramshuk’s best warriors. The Black Hawks, and others of similar prowess.”
Chief Carh read his confusion and smiled grimly, baring his fangs and touching his war club again. “They may be fearsome fighters, but I assure you that if you betray the Banuk, I will hunt you down personally and destroy you. Unlike the Ramshuk’s servants, I will not fail and your death will be more painful than you can possibly imagine. Like you, I am motivated by that which I care deeply for. My tribe.” He studied Garnuk intently for a long moment. “Do not make the mistake of crossing me, Exile. Those who do tend to have very short lives thereafter.”
Garnuk’s eyes darted from the studded club leaning against the thick chair, then back to the fierce chief sitting beside the fire, leering at him. Garnuk was confident in his own skills, but there was a light in Carh’s eyes that he didn’t like. A light which said no matter the obstacle, this chief would protect his own, and avenge them if the opportunity arose.
Belatedly, the Exile realized he had let silence stretch between the two of them for several seconds. Tarq, Koah, and the other warriors had all halted and were looking back expectantly, some of the warriors gripping their spears tightly, ready for action. Carh’s expression had gone from quietly menacing to vaguely suspicious.
Garnuk tried for a reassuring smile, not entirely sure that he pulled it off. “Of course, Chief Carh,” he replied, inclining his head slightly. “I would expect nothing less of you as a chief. These are your people, and their well-being is your top priority.”
Carh held his gaze for a moment longer, then released his war club and sat back in his chair, eyeing Garnuk shrewdly. “You do not seem scared by my threats, or even intimidated, Exile. I cannot tell if you are confident or if you doubt me and my tribe.”
Garnuk smiled again. “Neither, Chief Carh. It is merely that I have no intention of betraying you. And, therefore, I have no reason to fear your wrath.”
Carh did not react at all, other than to glance sharply at Koah. “Carry on then, Sentinel,” he said briskly. “The hour is late, and our new friends have traveled far.”
But as they retreated from the hall, Garnuk was not sure the chief really considered him a friend. Their truce was an uneasy one at best, and the Exile knew he would have to tread delicately to avoid shattering it.
Chapter 8:
Shadow Squadron
As Garnuk had guessed when he first sighted the stronghold, the structure did indeed penetrate well into the mountain. Koah led them out of the council chamber by way of a narrow arch just inside the main doors. There was one to the left of the doors and one to the right, set back far enough to go unnoticed by those entering the fortress.
Koah led them down the corridor behind the left-hand arch, turning back to the left, and into the mountain, almost immediately. The corridor widened to a gallery here, nearly five meters across and with many levels looking down on the passage from above. Garnuk craned his head back, looking up seven levels to the ceiling. He could just make out the indistinct shapes of more carvings on the stone there, but could not tell what exactly they depicted. He would have to visit one of the other levels to get a better look at them.
As they continued moving into the mountain, Garnuk noticed that the gallery too was curved. It was not immediately obvious due to the scale of the dwelling, but the gallery was in effect a large half circle, backing up to the council room within the mountain.
“This is quite the stronghold,” Garnuk observed to Koah, hoping the Banuk warrior would volunteer more information. He was not disappointed.
Koah smiled proudly and gestured with a clawed hand at the seven levels. “It is one of our tribe’s greatest achievements. Each level can house over five hundred vertaga if needed. Within these walls are our storehouses, armories, granaries, and everything else necessary to withstand a long siege. There is even a freshwater lake beneath the mountain, reachable by a corridor our ancestors carved out hundreds of years ago.”
“Is there a back door?” Garnuk wondered, thinking of the two narrow arches that restricted access to this cavernous space.
“There is,” Koah replied. “Quite a few actually. One is well known. We call it the sea gate.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, it is a tunnel that runs right to the coast. Those who fish the treacherous waters use it regularly to come and go without attracting the attention of men in the area.”
“Interesting,” Garnuk murmured.
Tarq was a little more surprised. “You mean some of your tribe go near the sea?”
“Yes,” Koah said frowning. “They go fishing regularly. The meat is good and the fish are plentiful if you know where to look. They have to hide the boats – ”
“Boats?” Tarq asked, scandalized. “They actually go out on the water?”
“Yes,” Koah confirmed, glancing at Garnuk.
“But . . . but that’s madness,” Tarq muttered, shuddering and rubbing his hands over his skin.
“Some of our tribe share your misgivings,” Koah replied, nodding. “But the sea is one of our greatest resources. It would be a shame to waste it.”
“It would also be a shame to drown in it,” Tarq muttered fearfully.
Koah shook his head and led them off the main gallery, into a smaller hallway. They followed this passage only a short while before turning into a stairwell and climbing upwards. They passed fewer vertaga the higher they went inside the fortress, until it was just Koah, Garnuk, Tarq, and their escorts.
“How much further?” Garnuk wondered, looking around at the dark and dusty passage. No one had disturbed this level for some time if he was any judge.
Koah snatched a lantern from its hook as he passed it and stepped out of the stairwell and onto a landing. “We are here,” he announced. “The seventh level. It is seldom used anymore.”
Garnuk warily followed Koah into the corridor, the others fanning out behind him. There were no torches or lanterns on the walls here, save for the single flickering light Koah held.
“Could do with some cleaning up,” Garnuk observed, reaching out and touching the smooth stone walls.
“It will suit your purposes well,” Koah said, shrugging. “Nobody will bother you here.”
“But won’t it be noticed if many vertaga are suddenly visiting this level?” Garnuk asked.
“We are trying to avoid being noticed,” Tarq agreed. “Being out of the ordinary is a good way to be noticed.”
Koah allowed a flash of irritation to show. “It will be more obvious if many outsiders are sighted going to the same place in one of the more populated levels,” he replied evenly. “And this level has other useful features.”
“Such as?”
Koah glanced at Garnuk, then moved further along the hallway. “There is a long history attached to this level. Too much to tell you all of, sadly. But this level is where the commanders of the Guardian Shadows used to live and meet.”
“The who?” Tarq interrupted.
“The Guardian Shadows were the ancient equivalent of our modern-day Sentinels,” Koah explained, forging deeper into the gloom. “It was an elite organization of scouts, sentries, and spies, tasked with keeping Banta Kodu a secret. They were far more . . . zealous than even the most devoted of the Sentinels.”
Garnuk’s eyes widened slightly at this. “More zealous than killing all visitors on sight?”
Koah nodded grimly. “With the Guardian Shadows on the loose, wanderers never even encountered our sentries. If they came too close to our walls, they were killed from behind or above, without warning or opportunity to surrender.”
Garnuk winced. “What changed?”
“A more moderate chief took over at a time when the Guardian Shadows were becoming corrupt and out of control,” Koah explained, stopping before a closed door. “He disbanded the Shadows and sealed off their old chambers. That is where we stand now. The ancient abode of the Guardians.”
“Gives the place a rather sinister feel,” Garnuk observed, turning in a slow circ
le. He noticed that Koah’s Sentinels had their shields at the ready and their spears were leveled at the surrounding darkness.
“Makes you feel like you’re being watched,” Tarq agreed, shuddering.
Koah smiled. “You have nothing to fear. The Guardian Shadows are long gone. But their old base of operations will suit your needs very nicely. There is enough space to house the two of you plus a hundred others. There are also armories and other hidden storage chambers, back passages and stairways to other parts of Banta Kodu, even a couple of bolt holes that run out of the fortress itself and into the rest of the city.”
“Yes,” Garnuk murmured. “This could work very well. Let us see our seaside winter home.”
Koah smirked slightly and pushed on the stone door. It did not swing inward as Garnuk might have expected. Instead, a small hatch sprang open, revealing a locking mechanism. Koah studied it for a moment, then turned a small lever to the right.
There was a rumbling, grinding noise as some ancient mechanism turned slowly, groaning and moaning from disuse. The outlined door in front of the small band did not move, but a section of blank wall, totally indistinguishable from the stone to either side, swung open, revealing a dark passage leading into the left-hand wall.
“Interesting,” Garnuk said softly. “What is behind the obvious door you originally pushed on?”
“Spikes,” Koah said briefly. “They shoot out and impale anyone who tries to open the door. They are attached somehow, I suppose.”
“How was that discovered?” Tarq asked.
“The hard way,” Koah replied darkly. “The Shadows did not take kindly to being disbanded. So, they shared very few of the deadly secrets of their lair. But we have ferreted out most everything in the last several hundred years.”
“Are you sure?”
“No,” Koah replied immediately. “So if you see something unusual or suspicious, don’t touch it. It could be a trap left by the ancients.”
“Some ideal base,” Tarq grumbled.
The Ramshuk (Heirs of Legacy Book 3) Page 7