“The time has come to fight,” Garnuk murmured to himself. “Finally, we may have a chance to strike a real blow, and make a difference.”
Tarq joined him then, and together they turned east, beginning the last leg of their journey to the fortress of men.
Chapter 43:
The West Bank
Garnuk and Tarq did not run to the West Bank the way they had crossed the Basin. Instead, they marched stealthily but purposefully, staying in the shadows of the hills, scouting the lands ahead as they moved to avoid chancing upon enemy patrols or outposts. There was little chance of that, but one of the reasons Garnuk had survived the Usurper’s reign for so long was that he was exceptionally careful, even when extreme caution did not seem entirely necessary.
Fortunately, the lands west of the Sthan fortress were broken and irregular, creating a plethora of hiding places, shadowy paths, and regular cover. Garnuk and Tarq darted between boulders and scraggly bushes, wound through narrow ravines and through ditches and defiles. For much of the time they traveled, the West Bank was all but hidden from view. On those rare occasions when they did glimpse the fortress, Garnuk would pause briefly to check their progress and be sure they were moving quickly enough to get into position before the battle.
When they came to the last hill between the camp and the West Bank, Garnuk led Tarq up the western side of the hill, running just below a rocky ridge that gave them some cover from the eyes of any sentries looking that direction. Fortunately, there was no snow to make tracks in on this part of the hill, since they were on the leeward side. At the end of the ridge, Garnuk crouched low, then dropped to his belly and peered around the edge, looking for the next hiding place.
The summit of the hill was to his right, and while it would provide a good view they would be far too obvious there. On the northeastern side of the hill though, Garnuk could see a cluster of boulders that might be large enough for his purposes.
“Wait here,” he murmured to Tarq. Then, he began crawling slowly around the top of the hill and over to the group of large boulders he had seen.
The Exile slithered along the ground, moving from the ridge to the shelter of a bush, then wriggling into the shadow of a boulder. From there, he crawled quickly to the spot he had selected, dropping behind the shelter of the pile of rocks. Cautiously, he peered around the side of the barrier and towards the fortress.
The West Bank stood there, waiting, not a hundred meters away. But it was different than Garnuk remembered. Much of the hill was gone, replaced by sheer cliffs on all sides. The winding road which had once led up to the gates was replaced by a narrow and easily defensible causeway. To the north, a vast swath of land had been walled in. He had heard the reports from his spies that said the West Bank was changed, but he had not expected something this dramatic.
A low growl reached his ears and Garnuk stiffened. Then, he slowly looked back. The only living creature he could see was Tarq, who was staring at him fixedly. Garnuk gestured for the captain to join him, and Tarq began crawling to the pile of boulders along the same path the Exile had used moments earlier.
Garnuk turned his attention back to the fortress, studying the defenses. There were a few men on the roof of the central building, and a great many soldiers guarded the walls around the central complex. But the northern wall was bare of defenders. Were their numbers really so few they could not even defend the entirety of their fortress?
A small cascade of pebbles and loose dirt rolled past Garnuk, piling up against the base of a boulder. He glanced back just as Tarq slid into cover next to him, breathing heavily.
“Well?” the captain asked.
“This place will do,” Garnuk murmured. “I can see everything I need to, and we are hidden well enough.”
“Probably,” Tarq agreed, shifting position slightly. “No sign of the Usurper’s armies?”
“Not yet,” Garnuk agreed. “But they are surely getting close by now.”
He glanced over his shoulder, looking at the western horizon. There was an only an hour or two until sunset now. The vertaga armies should be arriving at any moment.
“Can you see the dragon?” Tarq whispered, squinting towards the fortress.
Garnuk shook his head. “Not from here, but I saw the beast earlier.”
Tarq let out a low moan. “We’re doomed. I noticed you didn’t mention it to the others.”
Garnuk winced. “I couldn’t decide whether to bring it up or not. Then I forgot all about it when we were discussing whether or not I could trust the others to think for themselves.”
“And if the dragon sees us?”
“There are plenty of other distractions to keep it busy,” Garnuk said indifferently. “The Usurper’s army will be attacking it, trying to wound it or kill it. The dragon will go after them and leave us alone so long as we do not do anything foolish.”
“Like sneaking up to an enemy fortress and sitting behind a boulder?” Tarq muttered.
“This is a good tactic,” Garnuk countered. “A sound observation point, and close enough to take action if the opportunity presents itself.”
Tarq shook his head. “Fine. But if someone has to go out and kill the dragon I’m staying here.”
Garnuk chuckled quietly. “Don’t worry, Tarq. I know full well that neither of us is a dragon slayer. The battle will not come to that, I think.”
The captain snorted, but kept his silence, his gaze fixed on the enemy fortress, waiting. Garnuk watched as well, noting every detail he could about the forces arrayed in defense of the stronghold. There appeared to be several different types of soldiers. Some were clad in leather, with simpler weapons like spears and clubs. Others were garbed in mail and carried swords and axes, and a fair number were fully armed and armored in metal suits. This last group had the look of professional warriors, and wherever they went the other two groups straightened and stood taller.
Time wore on, the sun continuing its monotonous path towards the horizon. It was not until an hour before sunset that Garnuk finally became aware of a dark smear on the eastern horizon, beyond the fortress.
“Tarq,” he murmured, pointing.
The captain stirred and followed his general’s outstretched finger, peering into the distance. A moment later, he nodded in satisfaction.
“It’s them,” he said, confirming Garnuk’s suspicions. “They’ll be here quite soon.”
“Within half an hour,” Garnuk agreed. “They have timed it almost perfectly. It may well be dark before this battle is over, and if it is the Usurper’s warriors will have an even greater advantage over the men.”
“Can the dragon see in the dark?” Tarq wondered aloud.
Garnuk shrugged. “Who knows? Apparently, that information wasn’t important enough to be included in your elder’s stories.”
“They were fine stories!” Tarq protested.
The Exile waved a hand dismissively. “I don’t doubt that, Tarq. I just wish we knew more about the dragon. Specifically, how to kill it.”
Tarq chuckled to himself. “Ah, the changes that such a deed would cause! You would no longer be an Exile, but a dragon slayer, the savior of our kind.”
“And the most likely candidate for the next Ramshuk,” Garnuk added wryly. “That is not a title that I particularly want at the moment.”
They lapsed into silence, eyes fixed on the approaching army. They were not the only ones whose attention was drawn almost exclusively to the southeast. On the walls of the Sthan fortress, men were running to their positions, shouting to each other, and otherwise preparing for battle. The number of warriors on the roof had increased, and the walls were so packed with defenders that even if a vertag were to gain the wall top he would have a difficult time finding a place to stand.
With every passing moment, the vertaga army was becoming easier and easier to make out. Garnuk shook his head in wonder at the size of the force that was marching towards the West Bank.
“Impressive,” he murmured quietly. “The U
surper is committed to this attack. He has sent enough warriors to overrun not only the West Bank, but also some of the nearest cities. It has been many years since I have seen such an army of our people.”
“Last time we marched among them,” Tarq agreed, frowning. “Look at where their leaders march, though – at the rear.”
Garnuk laughed mirthlessly. “They must not know about the dragon, or they would be safely in the midst of their troops. Leading from any edge is risky with that beast around.”
The vertaga army began forming up in front of the West Bank, rank upon rank of rams standing in rigid formation, a wall of muscle and savagery. From the ramparts of the Sthan stronghold, a defiant cry rang out, swelling into a full-throated yell echoed by all of the defenders. Hardly had the sound faded, then a horn rang out from the vertaga ranks. Soon after, the maw of every vertag opened and let loose roars of bloodlust so chilling that even Garnuk stirred uneasily.
A second horn blast came, and the vertaga army began to run, the ground shaking under their weight as they charged the causeway leading up to the fortress’ main gate. Tarq leaned forward eagerly, almost as excited to watch as he would have been to take part in the savage fighting that would soon begin. Garnuk remained more relaxed, scanning all of the lands around the fortress so that they would not miss anything.
As the first ranks of vertaga began to swarm up the causeway, bearing ladders and a battering ram among them, there was a flash of emerald movement behind the fortress. Garnuk dropped flat, pulling Tarq with him, as the dragon climbed into the air, then swooped around the west side of the fortress at tremendous speed, arrowing towards the rams charging the front gate.
Fire sprouted from the beast’s mouth, bathing the causeway in white hot flames, consuming a dozen warriors and disrupting the advance. The dragon climbed into the air, turned, and swooped back for another pass. Garnuk watched in disbelief as the dragon struck the battering ram with its forelegs, tearing it free from its remaining bearers and sending it tumbling off the causeway, rolling and bouncing down into the canyon between Garnuk’s hill and the hill the West Bank stood on.
“Well, that was discouraging,” Tarq muttered, obviously disappointed.
Garnuk shrugged. “They were probing the defenses. That was just a quarter of the Usurper’s force, if that. And they forced the men to show whether they had the dragon or not. Now, there are no surprises left.”
Another horn sounded, making the retreat official. Those few vertaga who had not already been running back to the safety of their own ranks turned now and ran as fast as they could back to the formation. There were gaps in the neatly ordered rows, but not many.
As soon as the last vertag was in place, the army scattered into several smaller forces without any apparent signal. The vast majority stormed towards the gate once more, led by dozens of vertaga riding varloug prans. More wolf riders led smaller forces around the sides of the fortress as well, making for the northern wall. They stayed just out of arrow range, thundering through the canyon below Garnuk and Tarq. As they passed, the Exile’s eyes were drawn upwards as the dragon struck again, plunging like a thunderbolt from above and scattering the rear of the main attacking force. Then it was swooping away again before any archers could prick its scaly hide with their arrows.
“This is chaos!” Tarq observed. “Warriors everywhere, swarming the fortress! Even with the dragon, I’m not sure that the Sthan have a chance.”
“They do,” Garnuk said, tempering his captain’s enthusiasm. “The gate will be difficult to breach, and there is little opportunity to scale the walls of the main fortress. A few may gain the top of the walls with the help of their beasts, but they will not have much of a foothold and will be thrown back.” He glanced up at the sky, measuring the progress of the sun. It was just starting to touch the horizon now, so there was still plenty of light to be had. The Sthan would not be at any disadvantage for an hour or two yet.
Suddenly, Tarq swore and ducked lower behind the boulders, pulling Garnuk with him. “General,” he said, silencing Garnuk’s protests. “We have company on the way. Look carefully and quietly.”
Garnuk froze, then pressed his eye to a crack between two boulders. A trio of vertaga were climbing up the eastern side of the hill, picking their way up the slope slowly, stopping every few paces. The one in the rear had a broken off arrow shaft in his leg and was stumbling along.
“What do we do?” Tarq muttered.
Garnuk shrugged. “Listen first, strike later,” he said. “When I give the signal, knock them out.”
Tarq frowned. “Not kill?”
“No,” Garnuk said firmly.
“That doesn’t make our job any easier,” Tarq muttered, gripping the haft of his axe. “You’re sure that I can’t just – ”
“Quiet!” Garnuk hissed. The three newcomers were approaching their hiding place. Fortunately, their attention was focused elsewhere.
“The battle goes poorly,” the second one in line said, looking back. A horn bounced against his right hip, secured by a thin leather strap that passed around his torso and over his shoulder.
“I’ll worry about the battle, Gorit,” the nearest vertag snapped. “You just get up here with that horn and get ready to signal orders.”
Gorit snorted and took another few paces up the hill until he stood level with his leader. “What are your orders, commander?” he asked with the barest trace of deference.
The commander turned his back to Garnuk and Tarq and gazed northeast, towards the place where a smaller portion of the army was preparing to attack the northern wall. “None, yet.” He replied. “We’ll probe that wall first, see if anyone tries to keep us from taking it. If not, then we sound the charge and throw our warriors at that northern gate. Maybe they will be able to fight through the underground passages and open up the upper gate from the inside.”
“The wolf-demons would be nearly unstoppable once they got in there,” Gorit observed, peering towards the northern army.
The commander grunted in agreement, then turned his attention to the third member of the group. “Uriv! You’re a sorry excuse for a messenger. Get up here, now!”
Uriv stumbled up the slope, cursing under his breath from the pain of his wound. “Let’s see how well you run messages with an arrow through your leg,” he snarled.
“Well then get it out,” the commander replied irritably. “You’ll have a few minutes before we have any reports to send back to the general.”
The messenger, Uriv, sank to the ground just in front of the other two, watching the force that was now charging the northern wall. “You should be leading from the front ranks,” he muttered mutinously. “Not standing on a far-off hillside staying out of arrow range. This is cowardly.”
“I am coordinating my forces,” the commander snapped. “This battle is complicated, too complicated for your limited intelligence. That is why I am here and not waving an axe and charging the wall.”
Uriv scowled and focused on digging the arrowhead out of his leg, grimacing with pain. The other two turned their attention to the battle. The attacking vertaga had reached the wall and were clambering over it. As they did, howls of pain and snarls erupted from the forces on the ground. His view was mostly restricted by the boulders and the vertaga command group standing in front of him, but he could still see glimpses of thrashing varloug prans. They seemed to be caught in nets, lashing out and knocking over their vertaga comrades. In other places, vertaga seemed to be falling through the ground, disappearing from sight in an instant.
“What is going on down there?” the commander demanded, glaring, taking a step forward.
“You’d know if you were down there,” Gorit muttered. “Shall I sound the retreat?”
The commander swung around angrily. “No, let them continue. I want them to get that northern gate down, and get into that fortress.”
Gorit bowed slightly and stepped back, deferring to his commander. On the ground a few paces away, Uriv finally dug the
arrowhead out of his leg and flung it away, scattering drops of black blood over the hill side.
Garnuk looked around, checking the progress of the battle. Unfortunately, with the command party so close there was little he could do to influence the battle even if he wanted to. Then, he noticed a small group approaching the hill from the northwest, away from the battle.
The Exile squinted, trying to make out the advancing figures. They were running flat out, kicking snow up behind them. They weren’t in any sort of formation, and they seemed panicked. There was no chance they were a part of the attacking force, since they were all occupied with the Sthan. So who were these newcomers?
Garnuk glanced at the three vertaga standing just in front of him. Uriv was working on bandaging his injured leg, and the others were staring at the fortress. None of the command party had noticed the new group yet, but it was only a matter of time. As the small band drew nearer, Garnuk suddenly recognized the lead vertag.
He elbowed Tarq, holding him down behind the boulders just in case the captain thought that was the signal. Tarq glanced at him, the question in his eyes. Garnuk jerked his head towards the northwest.
“It’s Harg,” he murmured. “Coming this way.”
Tarq looked over Garnuk’s shoulder, peering towards the advancing figures as well. “That’s his entire scouting force,” he observed. “Every single ram that he took with him to check for the Sthan reinforcements.”
Garnuk frowned, looking back. He hadn’t noticed that particular detail. “That is interesting,” he murmured quietly. Why had they all come?
Tarq glanced at Garnuk, then went back to watching Harg’s approaching warriors. “They’re headed straight to this hill,” he observed, shaking his head. “We have to do something soon or things could get interesting very quickly.”
Garnuk sighed heavily. The dragon was soaring over the lands enclosed by the northern wall, but didn’t seem to be attacking. All along the outer, wall, fires had sprung up, restricting the vertaga advance.
The Ramshuk (Heirs of Legacy Book 3) Page 44