The Ramshuk (Heirs of Legacy Book 3)

by Paul Lauritsen

  The ancient one’s expression hardened slightly, but he made no comment before turning slowly back to Garnuk. “What do you suggest now, general?” he asked politely.

  The Exile shrugged. “I don’t know,” he admitted honestly. “I have little knowledge of this city . . . I do not know its secret places, hidden entrances and exits, forgotten strongholds or legendary hideaways.”

  “The whole city is legend,” Teszalk said, chuckling to himself, “And you want to know all of its secrets? My young friend, we could be here until I am twice as old as I am now and still not be finished!”

  “You mean you know where Hunon might be hiding?” Garnuk asked hopefully.

  The ancient one made an uncertain gesture. “I know places where a rebellion could hide. Whether Hunon is at one of them is another matter entirely.”

  “Tarq, fetch a map of Banta Kodu,” Garnuk growled. “Let’s see if we can ferret out our old friend.”

  The warrior grinned and loped out of the hall, making for Shadow Squadron’s headquarters. For several moments, the other leaders sat in silence, with naught but the crackling flames to hold their attention.

  When Tarq returned, he was clutching several long, thick scrolls. “I grabbed as many as I could,” he explained in response to Garnuk’s inquisitive look. “We have close ups of many areas of the city, you know.”

  “You have been scouting the Banuk?” Carh asked pointedly, glancing between Tarq and Garnuk.

  Garnuk shook his head. “Not exactly. Most of these charts Koah gave us in the early days so we could familiarize ourselves with the city and avoid getting lost. We also needed to find out-of-the-way places to meet our scouts in. Too many outsiders traipsing through your stronghold would have drawn a great deal of unwanted attention.”

  “It seems you drew it anyway.”

  Garnuk ignored the grumbling chief and unrolled the first scroll, spreading it across the arms of Teszalk’s chair. “Do you have any thoughts?” he asked eagerly.

  The ancient one bent over the parchment, his squashed nose nearly touching the page, squinting until his eyes nearly disappeared in the folds of his face.

  “A great many,” he replied after a long moment. “So many, that we may need to narrow our search.”

  “Somewhere we would not think to look,” Garnuk began, tucking his chin against his chest as he thought. “Large enough to house . . . a few hundred warriors?”

  Koah and Tarq exchanged a look, then shrugged. “Hard to know,” Koah grunted. “They could have more than a thousand. I’ve lost track of skirmishes and how many vertaga have been lost on each side.”

  “There are only a few structures in the city that could hold that many,” Teszalk replied. “We’re standing in one of them. The armory could hold several hundred, if you include the cellars below it . . . and there are some large barracks built into the outer wall that might serve.”

  “The emergency shelter,” Carh interjected. “They could all fit there easily.”

  Garnuk looked up curiously. “The emergency shelter? What is that?”

  The ancient one cocked his head at Carh, brow furrowed. “I was not going to mention that particular location without your approval, chief, but it would serve.”

  “It is one of the greatest secrets of the Banuk,” Carh explained. “Our last refuge. There is a chamber beneath the city where our entire people could hide for a few days if need be. Reasonably well-provisioned, with a natural spring near the back for fresh water.”

  “How many entrances?” Garnuk asked. “And just how large is it?”

  “The entire stronghold would fit beneath its ceiling,” Teszalk said, sitting back in his chair. “But there is only one entrance. It is the last refuge of our people, because once we use it there is nowhere else to escape to.”

  “Then what is the use?” Tarq asked.

  “If Banta Kodu were invaded, our people could hide in the shelter before the walls were breached,” Carh explained. “Meanwhile, our warriors keep fighting. When they fail and the enemy enters the city, they will find it empty. They will not know that what is left of the Banuk waits far below ground, hidden. Then, when the invaders leave, we emerge and begin the process of rebuilding.”

  “And if they don’t leave?” Garnuk asked. “If the invaders came to hold Banta Kodu and not destroy it?”

  “I don’t know,” Carh admitted. “We’ve never, um, had to use such drastic measures before,” he added a little sheepishly. “So we don’t know that it would work.”

  “A lot would have to go exactly as we planned,” Koah admitted grudgingly.

  “The point remains,” Teszalk said, “The Dorunasab – ”

  “Come again?”

  “The chamber beneath the city,” Carh muttered in an aside. “Dorunasab means ‘last shelter’ in our dialect.”

  “Ah,” Garnuk said, understanding. “Continue.”

  “The Dorunasab would suit Hunon’s purpose in this rebellion,” Teszalk finished, looking around at the others.

  “But that’s not where he is,” Tarq cut in suddenly, stepping closer to the hearth.

  “It’s not?” the ancient one asked.

  “No,” Tarq said, shaking his head. “It’s too simple for one of Hunon’s intellect.”

  “Maybe he chose it because it was simple,” Carh growled. “And that way, we would never suspect he was there with his army and the rest of the elders.”

  Garnuk held up a hand to quell the frustrated chief. He liked Carh, but he trusted Tarq’s mind and wanted to hear his thoughts on the matter.

  “What are you thinking?” the Exile asked bluntly.

  Tarq lowered his horned head bullishly, glancing at the map. “A few things. First, this Dorunasab is one of the Banuk’s great secrets. The elders would not want to share it with an outsider. Second, if a thousand – or even several hundred – warriors were coming and going from the same place, we would have noticed by now, no matter how well concealed the entrance is.”

  “Possibly,” Garnuk agreed. “Especially with everyone holed up in their homes, trying to stay out of the way.”

  “And,” Tarq continued, holding up a clawed finger, “The Ancient One said there is but a single exit. Clever generals and survivors, and Hunon is both of those, always like to have a back door. Rather like us, general,” he added with a smile, glancing at Garnuk.

  The Exile nodded solemnly. “There is no sense in cornering oneself when you are being hunted,” he agreed. “But if not in Dorunasab, then where?”

  “Not the barracks,” Koah observed. “Too obvious, too easy for us to stumble on.”

  “And not in the keep,” Carh added, rolling his eyes and sighing.

  “There are no abandoned areas with secret exits they could be hiding in?”

  “No.”

  “I wasn’t finished!” Tarq shouted over the others.

  Carh, Koah, and Garnuk fell silent, studying Tarq curiously. “You have more to say?” Garnuk prompted.

  Tarq took a breath, gathering his thoughts. “As I said, we would have noticed hundreds or thousands of warriors deploying from one location. Hunon does not have all of his forces in one place. He will have split them up into numerous cells across the city, hiding in smaller bases.”

  “And the elders?” Teszalk asked quietly.

  “He would likely keep them with him, at the main headquarters,” Tarq guessed, glancing at Garnuk for confirmation. The Exile nodded slowly.

  “He would want to keep an eye on them,” Garnuk explained to the ancient one. “If they are based apart from him, they are harder to control.”

  “So, we are looking for many bases,” Carh said heavily. “Where do we start?”

  “There’s one last observation that I would like to point out,” Tarq said. “Whenever raids or skirmishes have happened, the perpetrators have vanished quickly, eluding our warriors almost every time. Like they were swallowed up by the ground or something.”

  “You think their bases are near th
e places where they have attacked,” Garnuk said, thinking. “The idea has merit.” He turned back to the map and tapped it thoughtfully. “Elder Teszalk, can you point out some hideouts near the main gate or the sea gate? Those locations have both been hit multiple times.”

  The ancient one reached into the fire ring and withdrew a charred branch, tapping it thoughtfully. Then, he began making small marks on the map as locations occurred to him. Garnuk watched excitedly, trying to evaluate which sites were the most likely.

  Finally, the ancient one set aside the branch, having marked some forty locations. “Each of these could hide between thirty and eighty warriors comfortably,” he explained, drawing a hand across his face and rubbing his eyes.

  Garnuk scratched at his horns. “We have not the warriors to hit each of them at once. And once we attack one, we lose the element of surprise and put Hunon on his guard.”

  “Then we have to take him first,” Tarq decided. “Simple.”

  “Not really,” Garnuk muttered. “He could be hiding in any of the places the ancient one has marked, or in one we have not considered.”

  “He will have many warriors with him,” Carh mused. “Maybe one of the larger locations?”

  “None of them are centrally located,” Koah observed, peering over the ancient one’s shoulder as he studied the map. “The most useful spot isn’t near anything of note. There are a few smaller places in the center of the city.”

  Garnuk frowned, tuning the others out. There was something they were all missing. Some obvious, critical detail. Tarq had said that survivors always had a backup plan, a backdoor, a way to live another day, even if they did not claim victory.

  “And they don’t put themselves in impossible situations,” Garnuk murmured, half to himself. He only realized he had spoken out loud when the others glanced at him.

  “What was that?” Carh asked. “I didn’t quite hear you, general.”

  Garnuk tapped the edge of the hearth with his left hand. “Hunon only really controls the Black Hawks,” he said finally, looking around. “And, thanks to us, there are very few of them left. Maybe a half dozen. The rest of his forces are loyal to the elders, not to him.”

  “We established that,” Koah agreed.

  “But then we ignored it,” Garnuk cut in. “Hunon won’t have many warriors with him. He only controls six. He’ll have his small force, the elders, and maybe a half-dozen Banuk in the command center, with the Banuk running messages constantly. That way, he stays in a small, secure hideout that doesn’t draw attention, keeps an eye on the elders, and always has a numbers advantage should they try to renege on their agreement.”

  “And he is hidden from us,” Teszalk mused, “For he would assume that we would never consider such things and that we would search for the largest places he could be first. A truly devious scheme.”

  “But from a certain point of view, it is simple and obvious,” Tarq observed. “So, where could he be hiding?”

  “There are eleven such places I know of that could fit Hunon’s needs,” the ancient one said. “I can tell you about all of them, but I think that Garnuk must make the final decision. He knows Hunon best.”

  Garnuk nodded and sat in his chair again, staring into the flames. “Tell me what you know.”

  Teszalk spoke for an hour, describing each hideout in great detail, providing information on the layout, number of entrances, location, and much more besides. Garnuk interrupted with occasional questions, but for the most part was content to sit and listen and ponder.

  The others asked no questions, merely sat and watched Garnuk and the ancient one. Koah and Tarq were trying to follow along, but Garnuk could tell that they were struggling to process all of the new information being hurled about.

  Two hours later, the ancient one finally exhausted his store of knowledge. The room fell silent save for the crackling flames and the occasional grating noise as one of the vertaga shifted position slightly.

  Finally, Garnuk stirred himself and looked at each of the others in turn.

  “Based on what we have heard, I believe that I have determined the most likely hiding place for Hunon. But, that does not mean that he is there.”

  “What are you trying to say?” Carh grunted, frustrated with proceedings.

  Garnuk shrugged. “Only that I could be wrong, and that if I am Hunon may well change his hiding place in an attempt to delay our victory even longer.”

  “We don’t have time to keep playing games with this traitor!” Carh snapped. “Banuk are dying, Exile! And while you are trapped here, the Usurper and his war are running amok across the Fells!”

  “Do you think that I am not aware of the situation?” Garnuk demanded. “I know every moment is crucial. But we are not guaranteed success in this endeavor. Remember, our current opponent is the one who betrayed me to the Usurper, the sole survivor of my advisors and generals. He did all of this without me hearing any of it or having a chance to foil his plans. He is careful, cunning, and possesses a deadly intelligence, Carh.”

  “Yet you do as well, or so I have been told,” Carh snarled, jumping to his feet. “That is why I took a chance on you and your band of misfits. On the apparently vain hope that you would prevail, and in doing so preserve our race for a few more generations.”

  Garnuk took a deep breath. “Hunon will not escape,” he promised. “He will die, and the Banuk will be restored to their former glory. Your people will be safe once more.”

  “The only reason they were in danger in the first place is because you are here,” Carh observed. “If you fail me, Garnuk, you will be thrown out of this city, and the gates sealed forever. My Sentinels will be instructed to kill anything and everything on sight, and no outsider will ever come to Banta Kodu again.”

  “Then I had best not fail,” Garnuk said. “And I will not.”

  “We will see.”

  Garnuk turned to Tarq and Koah. The latter looked decidedly uncomfortable at his chief’s ultimatum.

  “Gather our warriors. Shadow Squadron and Sentinels only. We will need the best of the best for this fight, with no interference from lesser warriors.”

  “How many?” Tarq asked.

  “Twenty or thirty for the main group,” Garnuk replied immediately. “With another score covering the back door of Hunon’s hideout.”

  Tarq nodded gravely. “How soon?”

  “Within the hour,” Garnuk said, standing and crossing towards the main door of the hall. “It is time to eliminate the Black Hawks.”

  Chapter 31:

  Raid on the Hunters

  Garnuk loped through the twisting side streets of Banta Kodu. Behind him ran the two raiding forces Tarq had gathered from among the remaining elite soldiers. Twenty were under Tarq’s command, and were responsible for securing the back exit from the hideout Garnuk was preparing to raid. The rest would follow the Exile down into Hunon’s lair.

  Above, more warriors were running along the upper levels, fanning out across the multitude of platforms to watch for Hunon’s forces. Every vertag Carh had left was mobilized in this final gambit. Those who were not on the upper level ran through the streets on the ground, patrolling the entire city for trouble. The keep had been left nearly deserted, with only Carh and his stronghold guards holding the structure. Teszalk had remained behind as well, since he was no fighter, but he had given Garnuk and his warriors directions to their objective.

  Now, Garnuk thought back on Teszalk’s instructions, double checking his path. Near the center of the city, just past the third column from the stronghold. Garnuk glanced up, counted the massive supports again, then nodded to himself. Three columns it was. The entrance was in the basement of a small tavern just two streets off the main road. There would be a pure white bear painted on the door.

  Garnuk found the building easily enough, and led the way through the front door. There were no guards posted to give the site away, nor any other indication this building was in fact the hideout of Hunon.

  Insid
e, the tavern was filled with a ruddy light from the large, square fire pit at the center of the room. The smoke was channeled through a tubular chimney that disappeared through the center of the ceiling, keeping the air clear and warm. All around the fire stood sturdy tables and chairs. About a quarter of the seats were occupied. Some of the vertaga were eating meat and bread, while others had come simply to drink. Garnuk smelled the acrid, cutting scent of misaer, the rough spirit distilled from mountain grains. Wrinkling his nose in distaste, the Exile strode confidently through the room.

  A thick vertag stood behind a solid counter, over the top of which were draped the hides of many animals. Trophies from hunts in all likelihood. Other trophies hung on the walls, the sightless eyes of wolves, bears, and even a wolverine glaring down at the room’s occupants. Garnuk took a moment to be impressed by the kills, then turned his attention to the tavern owner.

  “You’ll need to leave your weapons outside,” the vertag said, running his eyes over Garnuk’s warriors nervously. “I don’t want any unpleasantness.”

  “And there won’t be any if you cooperate,” Garnuk assured him. “Just take us to your cellar and we will be on our way.”

  The vertag’s expression became guarded. “And what interest have you in my cellar?” he whispered, his rough voice barely audible despite his proximity to Garnuk.

  The Exile smiled thinly. “I think you know precisely what my interest is. Now, take us to your cellar, or we will resort to more forceful measures.”

  The move was so sudden that Garnuk was nearly caught unprepared. The tavern keeper’s right arm shot forward, a short, sharp blade in hand, aimed straight at Garnuk’s left eye. The Exile twisted sideways and leaned back, watching the edge of the razor sharp blade slide past his nose. With his right hand, he drew his sword and struck in a looping overhand cut.

  The tavern keeper howled as his clawed right hand and the knife it held went spinning across the room, tumbling to the floor and rolling against the wall around the hearth. A trail of black vertaga blood was left behind, the drips and smears dark against the pine floor.