The blades took hours to shape to his liking, but Garnuk did not mind the tedious task. It gave him focus, calmed him, prepared him for what lay ahead. In less than a week, his life would depend on these weapons. And, quite possibly, the fate of the vertaga race as a whole.
Garnuk grimaced to himself. When he had left the others eight days earlier, he had been so confident in his own abilities that he had overlooked a potentially disastrous outcome of the ambush. If he were captured, or if witnesses were left alive to carry the tale, the Sthan would surely seek retribution. They would rush south, slaughtering every vertag they encountered, and all would be lost for good.
But now that Garnuk was here, he could not turn back. To spend so much time on the move, preparing, planning, and traveling, and then come away with nothing was unthinkable. He would just have to be sure the job was done right.
The Exile finished one gauntlet and set it aside. Then, with hardly a pause, he scooped up the second and repeated the long, delicate process.
By the time the second gauntlet was done, the eastern horizon was beginning to brighten, wan, pale light filtering between trunk and branch, bringing with it a vestige of warmth. Garnuk stood and stretched, a gauntlet on each arm. Smiling to himself, he tested each blade against the thick skin on his thumbs. He did not press hard enough to draw blood, but he could still feel the metal scratching the surface, the slight serrations he had added catching against his flesh. With a grunt, he sat down again and stored the gauntlets carefully in his pack. Then, his work completed for the time being, he curled up in his secret hollow to rest.
The day passed slowly while Garnuk dozed, resting for hours at a time and periodically waking for a few minutes before falling asleep again. Each time the Exile was roused from his slumber, he stood and did a quick patrol around his camp, just in case it had been some sign of an intruder which had penetrated his sleep-fogged consciousness. But each time he found nothing. No tracks or trails, no beast or fowl. No human, vertag or foe of any kind.
When night came again, Garnuk relaxed more, huddled in his snug little camp. Night was not when humans hunted. They could not see in the darkness, not like Garnuk could. They feared the night, and the unknown threats which lurked in the darkness, hidden from their sight.
If the harvest hunt lasted multiple days, a night attack might be most effective, Garnuk realized. He should have thought to ask Harg about that detail before he left.
When Garnuk rose the next morning after a solid night’s sleep, he was strong and full of energy once more, fully recovered from the exertions of the past several days. Gone were the soreness in his legs, and the cold-seared sore throat that had plagued him as he ran. Gone too was much of the ice and snow, replaced by a warm spell. Some of the trees were actually dripping with moisture as winter’s icy grip slipped.
Garnuk shivered and stood, looking around the forest. Already the damp was soaking into his clothes, seeping across his skin, the cold sapping his recently-found strength. Muttering darkly to himself, the vertag broke camp and made for the edge of the forest, intending to scout around and find the place for his ambush.
The main problem, Garnuk realized as he surveyed the surrounding land, was he did not know where the king would enter the forest. The Exile guessed the monarch would enter near the road from Etares, but on which side of it? And how far from the road? Would the king and his son ride into the forest together for a time, following the road, and then split up?
The larger problem, once Garnuk realized he did not have this information, was he could not get it. He was cut off from Shadow Squadron, unable to send or receive messages. Hunting alone once again. He could risk capturing a human traveler, but there was no guarantee that the captive would know anything about the hunt. And what if his victim was expected in the city, and word got out that people were disappearing in the Midwood? Would the hunt be called off altogether? Would the forest be explored by soldiers?
Caution and stealth were his greatest allies, Garnuk decided. He needed to stay out of sight for the next few days, and wait patiently for his prey to arrive. Then, when the king was approaching the Midwood, he would make his move.
Almost as soon as he had the thought, Garnuk heard voices floating through the trees behind him. The vertag froze, knowing that movement would catch the eye of these unexpected visitors. He was relatively well hidden, partially concealed in the tree fringe, his gray skin and drab clothing blending in with the winter landscape. But the Exile shrank back, further into the forest and a little closer to the sea, still trying to identify where the voices had come from.
Slowly, he turned his head, scanning the forest between him and the road. Eventually he sighted them, two traders riding a laden wagon, sacks and crates piled high behind their seats. The horses were plodding along stoically, heads bent towards the ground, hooves caked with mud from the slushy trail. Each pace of the beasts was accompanied by a wet squelching noise as they pulled free of the grasping ground. The traders seemed oblivious to the difficulty their horses were in, instead whipping them onward mercilessly.
“We’ll be late at this rate,” one trader was saying as the cart crept past Garnuk’s position.
“Well, how were we supposed to know the weather would turn again? Looked like good hard roads all the way from Ardia!”
“We should have gone by ship.”
“And paid those exorbitant fees? I’d rather keep the money we make from our goods, thanks very much.”
“There won’t be any money from them if we don’t get to the market in time,” the first trader groused. “It opened at sunup you know.”
“We’ll still be there most of the day,” the second trader replied dismissively. “That should be more than enough time to sell our wares.”
“We still should have gone by ship.”
“Enough with the ships! Besides, the forest is much safer than the sea this time of year.”
“Now it is anyway. Ever since the prince cleared it out last year. If we had been making this trip a year ago, you never would have gotten me to drive a wagon through here. We never would have made it past the bandits.”
“Not with Plod and Slog pulling,” the second trader muttered darkly, flicking his whip again and cracking it over the horses’ heads. “Get up there, you lazy clods!”
“If you want to help you could walk,” the first trader said, glaring at his companion.
“Oh? And why should I walk?”
“Well, I’m certainly not walking. After all, I wanted to rent a ship!”
The voices faded away as the wagon kept moving, out of Garnuk’s sight. The traders continued with their bickering, oblivious to the danger which had lurked so close to their wagon. Garnuk stood still as a statue for several long moments before he breathed freely again. Then, he retreated deeper into the forest to hide until the day of the hunt.
For three days, nothing happened. Garnuk sat in the forest, waiting, watching, plotting. He practiced slashing at trees and bushes with the gauntlets, checking the edges after each use to make sure they remained sharp. The claws were a pleasant surprise, light, maneuverable, and effective. Garnuk was beginning to think that he might keep using them in ordinary fights after this as well.
Time passed slowly. With only the trees and wild animals for company, Garnuk grew restless and impatient. Sometimes he wandered the forest for hours at a time, or snuck back to the tree fringe to gaze upon the city or the sea. He never ventured near the road though, deeming that too risky. He had already seen traders using the path through the Midwood. There was no telling who else he might encounter.
On the afternoon of the final day before the hunt, Garnuk moved to the edge of the forest to look upon the city one last time and go over his plan. Here he would wait, starting at dawn, for his prey, watching and observing. Here he would identify the king, and guess at where he would enter the forest. Then, once the king had moved among the trees, the hunt would begin.
As he crouched among the bushes a
nd trees, something unusual caught Garnuk’s eyes. Movement, at the western gate of the Sthan capitol. He shaded his eyes, peering towards the distant portal. It was not long before the indistinct figures sharpened into recognizable shapes.
Soldiers.
Garnuk swore quietly and began retreating into the woods. Had he been discovered? Seen? Or were the soldiers merely patrolling the forest for brigands on the eve of the hunt? Every one of the riders was mounted, armed, and armored. They were also clad more expensively than other soldiers that Garnuk had encountered in the past. Curious, he moved to the side of the road and hid himself among the undergrowth, mere meters from the path the horsemen would take.
The vertag’s heart stopped as the mounted troop reined in just inside the forest, slowing to a walk. They spread out slightly, taking up the whole width of the road, the disciplined formation stretched and distorted.
“Look sharp!” the rider in the lead shouted. “The guard commander wants a full report. Anything suspicious, call it out. Best to get it right today so that there’s no excitement tomorrow.”
“No excitement?” another soldier called back. “That’s the whole point of the hunt!”
“You know what I meant,” the leader snapped irritably. “No unwelcome surprises. The prince cleared this forest out last year, but there’s been plenty of time for the bandits to creep back in. Could be they’re set on revenge.”
“Then why not search the whole forest?” another soldier asked. “Why stick to the road?”
The leader reined in and turned back to face his men, roughly twenty in all.
“We are searching the whole forest,” he explained irritably. “But we’re doing the road first. This is where an ambush would be set up, if there was one.”
“So you say – ”
“So commander Eckle says,” the leader countered haughtily.
“Commander Eckle,” another snorted. “You’re only an officer because of the new commander. You never would have been promoted under Narin.”
“Do I need to report you for insubordination?” the officer demanded. “You will follow my orders to the letter, all of you, or I’ll see you dismissed! Now, start searching.”
There was another round of mumbled complaints, but the guards complied. Garnuk frowned thoughtfully. The names mentioned meant nothing to him, nor was it really a concern of his if there was unrest among the king’s guards. But it was an interesting bit of knowledge nonetheless.
As the men began riding off down the road though, Garnuk was faced with another dilemma. Should he stay where he was, or follow them? They were searching the whole forest after all. Could he be unlucky enough that they chanced upon his position later in the day?
Garnuk shook his horned head in annoyance. The soldiers would not think to look for him in areas they had already searched. He would follow them, carefully. That way they would not find him accidentally. And besides, he might learn something else useful. Thus resolved, the vertag broke cover and set out after the small cavalry, staying off the road and hiding himself expertly among the trees.
Avoiding detection by the horsemen turned out to be far easier than Garnuk had expected. For one thing, there was plenty of cover along the road for him to conceal himself behind, and the riders rarely checked their back trail. In addition, the riders seemed to be taking their assignment as lightly as possible, laughing and shouting to each other as they searched the forest. Some were even placing wagers on the following day’s festivities. The officer called his men to order several times, but eventually even these curt commands dwindled, leaving the group undisciplined and noisy in the extreme.
Garnuk watched from afar with a distaste bordering on contempt. A blind beggar could avoid detection from this group. If they truly wanted to search the forest for threats, they should have split up, hunting in twos or threes and moving silently, checking their flanks and back trails constantly to catch movement after they had passed. Garnuk would have positioned a man or two far behind the group as well, so that if someone happened to be following the band, as Garnuk was, he would be noticed by the rear scout.
Around midafternoon, the riders did finally split up. They broke into four groups of five and fanned out into the forest, riding within earshot of each other. Garnuk circled the line to the east and moved in behind it with ease, avoiding detection and putting himself in position to follow the riders right back to the edge of the forest. Even split up, the riders hardly even went through the motions of searching, talking amongst their groups and laughing at jokes and outrageous predictions of the results of the hunt.
The sun was setting by the time they returned to the edge of the forest. The soldiers rode off in a ragged line, gradually drifting back to the main road, while Garnuk stopped inside the tree line and watched them go. As they neared the city, the formation tightened up until the riders were in two rigid ranks, led by their commanding officer. They rode through the gates of the city, proud, capable, disciplined. A moment later, the portal shut with a rolling boom that resonated across the flatlands.
Garnuk shivered with anticipation as he turned to head back to his camp. Tomorrow, it would all come to a head. The next time those gates opened, the king of the Sthan would ride through them, and the hunt would begin.
Chapter 22:
The Harvest Hunt
Garnuk rose before the sun, loading his pack with his remaining supplies. Then, he strapped on the gauntlets he had forged and slashed the air a few times. With a satisfied grunt, he shouldered his pack and set out for the edge of the forest. He kept his sword at his hip, but his shield was stuffed inside of his pack. It was just too awkward and cumbersome to wield in addition to the gauntlets.
Winter had returned to the forest during the night, freezing the moisture that had been dripping from branches and seeping into the ground. Once again, the Midwood was an endless collection of ice sculptures, beautiful but silent. The footing was treacherous, the ground covered with a thin layer of snow and numerous icy patches. Garnuk slipped multiple times during the short trek.
The Exile reached the edge of the forest just as the sky was turning gray all around. He noticed idly that the gates of the city were open. He could not see much through the portal though, just a mass of humanity, seething and frothing with excitement. Waiting for the hunt to begin, just like Garnuk.
The inky darkness of night continued to fade, then abruptly fractured as brilliant golden and orange rays slanted out from the east. From the distant city, a great horn winded and the faint sound of cheering carried over the walls and across the plain.
Before the note of the horn had faded, riders were careening through the gates of Etares, making for the forest. Two rode out in front, with two groups of two riding behind them. Garnuk gave a grim smile in anticipation, rolling his shoulders and tilting his head back and forth, feeling small bones pop and crack as they rubbed against each other.
As the riders drew closer, he began to make out more details. The rider to the right, closest to the lake, was far bulkier than the rider on the left, who appeared slim and youthful. The two riders were also on slightly diverging paths, as were their guards. The prince was headed for a point to the left of the road, the king to a point right of the road. Not far off from where Garnuk waited in hiding.
Behind the two groups of riders, a larger party was exiting the city at a more sedate pace. Garnuk could make out at least thirty riders and two wagons. The wagons, no doubt, were for hauling the results of the hunt back to the city. The riders had the look of soldiers.
Garnuk swore to himself, trying to divine a reason for the unexpected party of warriors. The king and prince were nearly halfway to the woods now, and he would have to move soon if he was going to be successful. But what to do about this new group? They were staying to the road, much like they had the previous day, but what if they split up when they reached the forest?
The Exile hesitated, then turned and shambled off into the forest. Some of the patrol he recognized fro
m the previous day. With any luck, they would prove just as lax on the day of the hunt and stick to the road. Besides, if they were to follow the hunting parties they would scare any game away. Far from pleased with the situation but accepting it for what it was, Garnuk turned his mind to the next task – drawing the Sthan king into his trap.
He moved quickly, but also with deliberate clumsiness, crashing through bushes and rubbing against trees, leaving large and obvious signs of his passage. Garnuk deliberately passed several trees that he had marked with his claws earlier in the week, and when those signs were not frequent enough he made new gouges with the gauntlets.
All the while, Garnuk drifted south and east, away from the main road. When it came time to fight, he wanted there to be no chance of interference from any of the soldiers patrolling the road, nor any passersby that happened to be in the Midwood on this fateful day. The battle would be between Garnuk, the king, and his two guards. No one else would thwart him, not this time.
Time passed. Garnuk continued his romp through the forest, staying far enough ahead of the hunters that they would not see or hear him. He did not travel in a straight line, but meandered through the forest, noting landmarks he had identified during the previous days, moving ever closer to his chosen ambush site, deep within the forest.
Finally, after hours of running, Garnuk stopped. The hunters were far off yet. He could hear the distant, muffled thump of hooves in the snow. Once, he even heard a terse voice, the words indistinct. It was a good thing that Garnuk’s senses were keener than those of the humans, else he never would have succeeded in this gambit.
The vertag checked his weapons, flexing his fingers around the handholds on the inside of the gauntlets. The time was near now. The clearing he was making for was not far off, only a few minutes’ brisk walk. But first, he wanted to be sure that it was just the king and his guards following. In order to do that, Garnuk needed to see them, then retreat without being seen.
The Ramshuk (Heirs of Legacy Book 3) Page 22