On the fourth day, two teams reported in. One group arrived in the morning and one in the afternoon, but they both reported similar findings. Advance parties of warriors had been seen near the edges of the Fells. Scouts, perhaps, for a larger force. Neither group could guess as to the size of the force which would follow, if indeed there was one, nor did they have a firm idea of the direction the troops might be heading.
When the second group of scouts was dismissed, Tarq looked up at Garnuk, the question in his eyes,
“I know what you are thinking,” Garnuk growled. “And the answer is yes, we are still going to Ishkabur.”
“If the Usurper is moving to attack the West Bank – ”
“Then what?” Garnuk asked. “This is what we needed him to do. We don’t need to stop him.”
“But we should be finding out about the Sthan defenses, trying to determine which side holds the advantage and manipulating the strength of each force,” Tarq said stubbornly. “That is something we will be unable to do during this trip to Ishkabur.”
“It is a risk we must take,” Garuk said stubbornly. “Our warriors have only just started seeing advance parties. There is still plenty of time.”
“Time for what?”
“For us to go to Ishkabur, for one,” Garnuk said, drawing a clean parchment sheet across the table. He began scribbling on it hurriedly, outlining his thoughts.
“Our warriors will have to start migrating north, and squad . . . which one is due in next?”
“Seven,” Tarq replied after consulting the detailed map on the unstable table.
“Seven,” Garnuk repeated, “Will go immediately to the West Bank. They will team up with squad four to keep constant reports cycling back here. After we visit Ishkabur, we will move north as well and establish a new camp . . .” The Exile consulted the map hurriedly. “Here,” he decided, touching a spot not far from the main pass through the mountains. “There is a convenient highland valley here which will suit our purposes. Once we are reestablished it will be much easier to keep track of goings on in the area until after the Usurper assaults the West Bank. After the battle we can retreat deeper into the mountains to wait and watch.”
“We still don’t know they are going to that fortress,” Tarq reminded him.
“Where else would they attack?”
Tarq shrugged, then tapped a city by the southern end of the inland sea.
Garnuk shook his head. “Too risky. The Sthan fortress would be a constant threat to fall upon their rear. Same with the cities west of the mountains. I suppose the Usurper could march east, to the great river, and try to seize some of the settlements there, but his warriors were sighted near the pass, not near the eastern edge of the mountains.”
“The West Bank it is then,” Tarq said grudgingly. “Assuming the Usurper is in fact attacking.”
“We have seen nothing for many days,” Garnuk murmured, still scribbling instructions for his subordinates. “And now, there are patrols numbering from fifteen to thirty moving back and forth along possible invasion routes. The Usurper is on the move, Tarq, I can feel it.”
“Your instincts have led us this far,” Tarq observed. “That and your brains. I will trust you on this.”
“Good. Then we still march for Ishkabur in the morning as planned,” Garnuk said without looking up from his work.
He heard Tarq stiffen slightly. “You are certain we have enough time?”
“Beyond any doubt,” Garnuk said firmly, adding a note to one of his instructions. “You said you trusted my instincts only a moment ago, Tarq. My instincts are telling me we need to go to Ishkabur while we have the chance.”
The captain nodded reluctantly. “Alright,” he agreed. “But if this turns into a disaster, don’t blame me.”
“I won’t,” Garnuk muttered darkly. “Accepting blame for my mistakes is something I’ve become rather good at over the last ten years.”
“That wasn’t funny,” Tarq said as he ducked out of the tent.
“It was a little funny,” Garnuk said to himself. Then, he turned all of his attention back to the task at hand.
When dawn came the next morning, Garnuk lay awake in his tent, everything he would need for the journey loaded into the pack that lay beside him. In the other tent, a few meters away, he could hear Tarq stirring. And, beyond, he could hear the faint sounds that meant the two groups who had reported in the previous day were preparing to leave again. He planned to give them a few minutes head start, then leave camp with Tarq. That way, as few warriors as possible would know that their leaders were missing.
Garnuk crawled out of the tent, stood and stretched. He nodded to the two guards, who were sitting beside a small fire, then strode briskly towards the edge of camp to do a short patrol around the top of the plateau. The shelf on the side of the mountain had been an ideal base, he reflected. Isolated, difficult to notice, but easy enough to get to if one knew it was there. Easy to defend as well, since there were only a few paths up the cliffs on each side.
By the time Garnuk returned to the camp, satisfied that no unwanted visitors were about, the two groups of warriors were loading up their packs, talking quietly with the guards who were designated to stay with Garnuk and Tarq. As Garnuk moved past them, the warriors saluted each other casually, then the two spy groups lumbered off towards the entrance to the camp, disappearing down the side of the mountain a moment later in different directions.
“Efficient lot, aren’t they?” Tarq remarked as he joined Garnuk just outside of the pavilion.
The Exile smiled to himself. “They don’t waste much time,” he agreed. “You and Koah trained them well while we were at Banta Kodu.”
“They had your example to follow as well,” Tarq said modestly. “Our operatives know who it is they fight for, and why. They are proud of you, general.”
“Despite everything that has happened?”
“Absolutely. They trust you.”
Garnuk nodded distractedly, then ducked into his tent and pulled his pack out, swinging it onto his shoulders. “Do you have the shields?”
Tarq reached into the pavilion and grabbed two heavy, round shields, tossing one to Garnuk. The Exile grimaced and tossed his own shield back into his tent, examining the one that Tarq had given him. The two of them had labored to copy the Usurper’s symbol as accurately as possible. Garnuk knew it was not perfect, but he thought that it would fool most vertaga. With a disgruntled sigh, he slung the shield over his shoulders so that it protected his entire back, covering the vast majority of his body.
“That doesn’t look right somehow,” Tarq observed quietly, even as he slid his own shield into place.
“It’s a symbol,” Garnuk said, shrugging. “That is all. And we won’t be keeping these very long.”
Tarq nodded, but he still seemed uneasy. “Are you ready?” he asked anxiously.
Garnuk turned to look back at his captain, head tilted to one side. “Nervous, Tarq?”
The captain shook his head. “No. I just want to get this over with. All of this. Hiding, sneaking around, fearing for one’s life . . . it gets to you after a few months.”
Garnuk chuckled and shook his head. “A few months . . . ah, Tarq, if we are successful you will never have to live in fear again. None of us ever will.”
The Exile smiled at the thought and led the way out of the camp. The two guards inclined their heads respectfully as Garnuk and Tarq passed. Then the two vertaga were alone again, picking their way down the side of the mountain.
Snow and ice clung to everything, making the ground slippery and treacherous underfoot. Stones slick with ice lurked under thin veneers of powdery snow, and more than once Garnuk had to throw out an arm and grab a boulder or tree to stop himself from sliding away down the mountain. Tarq fared no better, although he benefitted a little from the fact that Garnuk was going before him and finding the worst of the obstacles.
As the morning wore on, the temperatures dropped and swollen gray clouds rolled up
from the south. The trees on the mountain thrashed and moaned, shedding their thin needles as the winds tore at them. Snow fell from the trees as well, great clumps of it, shaken from its previous place on lofty branches.
By late afternoon, it had started to snow again, and they had not made nearly as much progress as Garnuk had hoped. At least this time, it was not due to the Exile’s injuries. He had plenty of energy and strength, and he forged a path through the wintery landscape confidently. But the snow and ice delayed them quietly and relentlessly; they were falling behind schedule.
When they made camp for the night in the lee of a massive, fallen pine tree, Tarq took one look around at the surrounding land and growled in annoyance.
“Something wrong my friend?” Garnuk asked as he scraped a patch of ground free of snow and began to lay a fire.
“Yes,” Tarq snapped. “We did not come nearly as far today as we had planned.”
Garnuk shrugged. “We can make up for lost time tomorrow,” he said, unconcerned. “If not, we may be gone from camp for an extra day, but everything will work out in the end.”
“Bah! How can you say that with such confidence?” Tarq demanded irritably.
“Because I have faith in our cause and our capabilities,” Garnuk said, delicately placing another branch. “Besides, this is a massive storm. If the Usurper’s forces are on the move, they will be hampered worse than we will be.”
“Perhaps,” Tarq allowed. He sank to his haunches beside the fire, adding a few branches. “What I wouldn’t give for my tent back at base camp right now.”
“Your blood has thinned that much during our life of leisure?” Garnuk asked.
Tarq glared at him, then shook his horned head in disgust. “We should not be here,” he muttered darkly. “We should be back in camp, where we belong. Where we are needed.”
“We are needed at Ishkabur,” Garnuk said firmly. “We must go there.”
“To satisfy your curiosity.”
Garnuk gave up arguing with Tarq and busied himself lighting the fire. In moments, the small blaze was burning brightly, the flames staving off some of the bitter chill in the air.
“How much further do you think we have to travel still?” Tarq asked finally.
Garnuk shrugged, gazing into the flames. “I don’t know. We may yet reach Ishkabur by tomorrow. Or it could be the next day. We’ll just have to wait and see.”
“And if it is not tomorrow or the next day?”
The Exile scowled. “It will be.”
The next morning, the two travelers rose early, doused what little remained of their fire with double handfuls of snow, and set off for the city of men once more. It had stopped snowing during the night, but drifts had piled up everywhere in an undulating blockade across hill and mountain, wiping out hollows and concealing treacherous footing.
Despite these hazards, Garnuk forged ahead at breakneck speed. Tarq followed as fast as he could, constantly glancing west, towards where Ishkabur waited. Garnuk ignored his captain’s terse comments and scowls throughout the day, knowing they were making up for lost time, but not knowing if they were making it up fast enough.
They found out the answer that evening. As the sun sank behind the mountains in the west, Garnuk stopped atop a slight rise and peered towards the horizon. There was no sign of Ishkabur, although Garnuk did recognize a few landmarks that meant they were close.
“We could press on tonight,” he suggested. “Another two, maybe three hours and we could be there. The men would not see us in the night.”
“We are going into an unknown situation,” Tarq mused. “With no idea where enemy camps are. I would rather sneak in under cover of darkness.”
“So we push on?” Garnuk asked, glancing back.
“Yes.”
The Exile nodded. “I agree. We’ll go more slowly though from here on in. And we won’t go straight in, we’ll circle around up to the mountains on the southern side of the city. There are many good observation points up there.”
“It will take longer,” Tarq warned.
“But it will be safer in the long run, and put us in a better position to get the information we need,” Garnuk countered. “Are you ready?”
Tarq took a long drink from his water skin, then stoppered it and stuffed it back in his pack. “Let’s move.”
Garnuk nodded and set off once more, angling up along the shoulder of the mountain, moving steadily away from the road below. There was nobody using the trade route this evening. It had likely been all but shut down in the early days of the war by the Usurper’s raids. It seemed so long ago that Garnuk had interfered in a raid himself. Had that really only been a few months earlier?
The sky darkened to black above, an inky gloom that was brightened by neither stars nor moon. Clouds swirled in mysterious patterns, shrouding the sky and making sinister, shifting shadows on the snow-covered ground.
Garnuk and Tarq hiked on, their breath forming silvery clouds as they moved, their limbs damp and heavy from the ice and snow that clung to them. Both were exhausted at this point, but neither was willing to give up the fight. Especially Garnuk. He knew precisely where he was in the Fells, knew that over the next rise and a little to the northwest was Ishkabur. They were nearly to their goal.
As they approached the top of the rise, Garnuk crouched low, then crawled forward, so that only his head protruded above the line of the land in case anybody was watching. As he crested the shoulder of the mountain, he released a pent-up breath. There was the city, just as he had expected.
He had never been closer to any city of men than Ishkabur. He had watched it often in his ten years of isolation, often choosing to hide nearby because he doubted the Usurper or his Black Hawks would be willing to risk discovery by men. Now, as Garnuk studied the sleeping stronghold by the sea, his memories filled in those details he could not see with his eyes.
The outer walls and the strong central complex were high and secure, undamaged by the siege to this point. Bodies from both sides were flung around the base of the walls, and Garnuk could see the shattered remains of at least one battering ram and many scaling ladders. Beyond the walls, where the buildings that belonged to the everyday citizens of Ishkabur should have been, was a burned out, black and gray mass. A fire, perhaps? Tangled and broken beams were piled in strange mounds that jabbed at the black sky with pointed claws, a good portion of the city in ruins.
The harbor too had suffered damage. Piers and buildings were smashed to pieces, and much of the remaining wood had been charred by a massive fire. A few wrecked hulls hung low in the water, the remnants of sunken ships resting in the shallower water close to the shore.
Yet, for all this destruction, Ishkabur still stood. The central tower flew an icy blue banner with the image of a wolf on it, not a vertaga symbol. If Garnuk recalled correctly, that flag had been there last time he visited as well. So the Usurper had not yet seized the city.
But then, where were his warriors?
Tarq crouched beside Garnuk, peering at the city. “Do you see any of our kin?” he asked in a low voice.
“None,” Garnuk muttered. “Their camp must be well hidden, so that the men cannot raid them.”
“Or split up,” Tarq added, squinting into the gloom. “There aren’t many places to make a large camp around here. If I were the commander, I would have five or six camps spread out around the city. Easier to hide, harder to attack.”
“And the Sthan couldn’t attack one camp without risking another one taking them from behind,” Garnuk murmured. “Good thinking. The question now, then, is where are those five or six camps?”
“Why do we need to know?” Tarq asked.
“So we can avoid them,” Garnuk replied. “I don’t want to get anywhere near the Usurper’s forces, even with our disguises. We are here to observe and report back.”
“Getting near them may be the only way to see if they have some new weapon,” Tarq warned.
“If that’s the case, we’ll climb tha
t mountain when we get there,” Garnuk grunted. “For now, let’s find a camp of our own.” He looked around, then up the slopes of the mountains to the south. There was a ledge well above their position that would have good visibility over the entire coast and the lands around Ishkabur. “Follow me,” he said shortly.
The two vertaga toiled upwards on the mountainside, stumbling through snow and scree, moving as quietly as they could. Below, the city of men lay in darkness, and somewhere in the surrounding wilderness lurked thousands of vertaga. Two enemy armies, and Garnuk and Tarq had chosen to march right into the middle of them. But, with any luck, neither side would find out the Exile and his captain had ever been there.
They reached the ledge Garnuk had chosen within the hour and sank to the ground groaning quietly. Garnuk thought about gathering a few branches for a fire, then discarded the thought immediately. They were in enemy territory, and there were far too many hostile sets of eyes around.
“Get some sleep,” he said to Tarq, sitting cross legged near the edge of the ledge. “I’ll take the first watch. In the morning, we’ll decide our next move.”
Chapter 39:
The Weapon
Garnuk woke abruptly to the sounds of distant battle. He rolled upright, snatching his sword from its sheath and shrugging the unfamiliar shield around to cover himself. He crouched low, blade up and ready to defend or attack as needed. His eyes darted over the rim of the shield, seeking the battle.
But there was nobody else on the ledge except Tarq. The captain was kneeling beside the cliff edge, peering down towards Ishkabur. He glanced back sharply, then beckoned Garnuk forward urgently.
“I was about to wake you,” he muttered. “There is a battle getting started by the harbor gates.”
The Ramshuk (Heirs of Legacy Book 3) Page 39