“If we could accomplish such a feat, I would not do it because of this council,” Garnuk growled, scratching his horns, “But because it would help our cause. Keep communications open, but do not respond with any promises. I want to know more about these men, but I’m not prepared to trust them, certainly not right now.”
“Agreed,” Tarq murmured, setting the parchment aside. “So, we will not be laying an ambush for the Sthan?”
“We will not,” Garnuk agreed. “But if we can get the ear of someone who can set up an ambush . . .”
He trailed off, looking up at Tarq. The captain met his eyes and understood what he was thinking immediately.
“You want to send someone to Dun Carryl and advise the Usurper,” Tarq said flatly. “And how do you think he will receive an envoy from his most hated enemy?”
“I wasn’t planning on sending someone in my name,” Garnuk countered.
“You better not be planning on going yourself.”
“I am not.”
Tarq frowned, confused. “So what are you planning?”
Garnuk chuckled. “I am hoping Harg will agree to go to Dun Carryl and make contact with either Ruekig or Gorit and convince them to get the Usurper to prepare for an invasion rather than hide.”
“You really think this is our best option?”
“If we don’t do something to harass the Sthan, they may stay in the mountains for weeks,” Garnuk said, “Sending out scouts and raiding parties. It would be a miracle if they did not run across any of our people during that time. If they did happen on a village or one of the tribal strongholds, they would crush it.”
“Such a victory would motivate the Sthan to stay longer and search more,” Tarq agreed. “Then we had better call Harg in and see if he is willing.”
“Then you agree with my reasoning?”
Tarq hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. Once, I thought hiding would be enough. But the resources of the Sthan are more extensive than I had anticipated.”
“Me too,” Garnuk admitted. “And with the siege of Ishkabur broken, they have an easy means of bringing in more supplies and troops to support the forces that are already invading our homeland. The current army is bad enough, but it could only be the beginning if the Sthan are truly committed to this invasion.”
“That is comforting,” Tarq muttered, frowning down at the map.
Garnuk snorted and rose to his feet, stretching. “I will find Harg,” he said, nodding to Tarq’s injured leg. “How long until you are back to full strength?”
“Long enough,” Tarq muttered, wincing as he moved his leg incautiously. “I hate these sorts of wounds, the ones that you can’t see, only feel. If it was a gash I could bandage it, gauge its progress as it healed, know how to avoid making it worse. But with something like this . . .” he shrugged uncertainly.
“Keep resting,” Garnuk said with a wry smile. “Isn’t that what you were always telling me? That I just needed time to rest and heal and my strength would return?”
“You know full well it is,” Tarq growled. “Which makes the fact you used those words against me even worse.”
“They are sound advice.”
“Hmph. Find Harg. I will wait.”
Garnuk ducked out of the pavilion and looked around the camp. Since the first storm and the departure of twelve warriors, the rest of Shadow Squadron had moved their shelters into a more organized and compact pattern. Now, roughly a dozen sturdy shelters formed a half circle around a central gathering area. Three large fire rings centered the semicircle of open space, the command pavilion standing directly opposite the center of the ring of shelters. Consequently, it was not hard for Garnuk to find Harg, who was sitting by one of the roaring blazes, enjoying its warmth.
“Something on your mind, general?” Harg called as Garnuk approached.
The Exile nodded. “Tarq and I wanted to talk something over with you.”
Harg sighed. “And I was just getting comfortable,” he muttered as he got to his feet. The captain brushed himself off and followed Garnuk back to the command pavilion. Once they were all inside and seated, Garnuk explained his plan to Harg and waited for his response.
The captain sat there for several long moments, staring at the table between them thoughtfully. “You want me to go to Dun Carryl,” he said finally, “And somehow convince the Usurper’s advisors to convince him of a battle plan you have designed to defeat the Sthan?”
“I don’t need to be mentioned to the Usurper,” Garnuk said, grimacing. “But it may help your credibility with Gorit and Ruekig to mention my name. Be careful when and where you utter it though. I don’t want you getting caught.”
“Why me?” Harg asked.
“Because you are the best we have,” Garnuk replied. “And while you still have a price on your head, you are not as recognizable as some of the others.”
Harg nodded thoughtfully. “I would not do this thing for anyone else,” he told Garnuk, “Or for any other cause. But for you and for our people, I will do it.”
“Are you sure?” Garnuk asked. “It will be extremely dangerous. More dangerous than anything that we have attempted so far.”
“If we win it will be worth it.”
“What if we don’t?”
“It will still be worth it,” Harg replied quietly. “I am here to serve you, and by extension our entire race. If I refused to go and in doing so jeopardized the mission, I would never be able to live with myself.”
Garnuk nodded, satisfied. “Then the mission is yours. You can set your own schedule – ”
“I’ll pack my gear and go now, before it gets any later.” Harg stood, glancing at the map. “If you need to send me a message, tell the messenger to go to the peak that we watched the butcher from. I will stop by there every few days.”
“That will do,” Garnuk said. “Be careful.”
Harg smiled wryly and ducked out of the command pavilion. Garnuk glanced over at Tarq, who had been silent throughout. “What are you thinking?” the Exile asked.
Tarq sighed. “That I would like to go with him, but cannot for many reasons.”
“There will still be a role for you and I to play,” Garnuk promised. “I can promise it will be just as dangerous, and just as difficult. Perhaps even more so.”
“That does not reassure me.”
Garnuk fell silent, looking down at the ground between his feet. “Don’t give up,” he told Tarq finally. “The situation is not so dire yet.”
“Who said I was giving up?”
“I would be surprised if the thought had not crossed your mind,” Garnuk said, “For it has crossed mine often enough. But this is worth doing, Tarq. We can make a difference, perhaps save our people.”
“Not from the shadows.”
Garnuk chuckled, turning to exit the pavilion. “You’re right, Tarq. For now we are merely setting the stage for the deciding moment in this war. But when that moment comes, we will step free of the shadows and change the course of history forever. Hopefully, by saving our people.”
The Exile left the pavilion and returned to the hut he shared with Tarq to rest. He was worn out from planning and plotting. There would be plenty of time for that in the coming days and weeks before the Sthan army arrived.
The days crept by, one by one. Tarq continued to heal, and Garnuk continued working on various plans, trying his best to cover every possible angle. When the time came to act, he wanted to be prepared to move immediately. During that time, he received a few reports from Harg. The captain had successfully entered Dun Carryl and arranged a meeting with both Gorit and Ruekig. The two leaders had agreed with Garnuk’s assessment of the situation, and had promised to advise the Usurper along similar lines, but there were no reports as to their success yet.
A few weeks after they had arrived in the vale, one of Garnuk’s scouts finally reported back. The vertag thundered into the camp, kicking up snow as he ran past the sentries. Garnuk waited outside the command pavilion, watching him approac
h. The vertag careened to a halt just in front of the general, then saluted wearily.
“You bring news?” Garnuk asked him, ushering the messenger into the pavilion.
The warrior nodded, chest heaving. “The Sthan have arrived in the mountains. They are marching through the pass even now.”
“Their progress?”
“Slow,” the vertag said with a wolfish grin. “Very, very slow. The pass is constricting them, making it difficult to move. And their camp is vulnerable.”
Garnuk nodded thoughtfully. “Just as I expected. Which direction are they traveling?”
“They follow the pass for now,” the warrior replied, shrugging. “For how much longer though, I cannot say.”
Tarq stood and moved around the table, walking confidently on his recently healed leg. “Good work. Anything else to report? Any signs the Usurper is planning to attack?”
The warrior shook his head. “Not that we have seen, captain.”
Garnuk frowned. “I’m going to send Harg a message, have him meet with our contacts again. We need to know what the Usurper is planning.”
“Agreed,” Tarq replied, glancing at the scout. “Return to your post. Keep an eye on Ishkabur as well, see if there are reinforcements on the way. We don’t want any surprises from across the sea.”
“Yes, captain, general,” he said, saluting them each in turn. Garnuk inclined his head in a silent dismissal and the warrior trudged off to find food and rest before beginning the return journey to the pass.
Garnuk sighed, frustrated. “The Sthan continue their march,” he muttered. “And no reaction from the Usurper.”
“There is hope yet,” Tarq said, shrugging. “Perhaps he is waiting for them to get deeper into the mountains, where they will be badly trapped.”
“Perhaps,” Garnuk allowed. “Personally, I would want to drive them off as quickly as possible. But if they were trapped and destroyed, the king and his army lost in the south, that would discourage another invasion for a while.”
“It might,” Tarq said. “But then again, it might incite them to send a larger force in revenge. These men are difficult to predict. They act irrationally sometimes.”
“Irrational from our perspective,” Garnuk mused, “But they likely have different information than us. So perhaps they think they are being perfectly rational.”
“You have made my head hurt,” Tarq complained, sitting down again. “And I had just gotten my knee to stop bothering me, too.”
“You are healed, then?”
“Well enough to fight, if needed.”
“Hopefully it won’t be needed,” Garnuk murmured, glancing out at the rest of the camp. “Though the time is drawing near now when things will come to a head.”
“Or the Sthan will pack up and go home.”
“As desirable as that is, I doubt it will happen,” Garnuk said quietly. “We have attacked them one too many times.”
Tarq considered this, frowning down at the table, then abruptly stood and left the command center. “I’ll go find a messenger,” he said over his shoulder. “Hopefully, he’ll return with a status report from Harg.”
Garnuk nodded absently, already adjusting his plans and coming up with new contingencies. As he did, he noted with some trepidation that the odds of success were beginning to dwindle, as were his options. By the time Tarq returned to report that the messenger had been dispatched, the general was genuinely unsettled.
The messenger returned three days later with a report from Harg. The captain had met with Ruekig again, but not Gorit. The other vertag had been called away on other duties. Ruekig’s message was far from reassuring: the Usurper was planning to wait and see what developed, rather than taking action.
When the messenger departed, Tarq groaned in despair and slumped back in his chair. “Well, this just got a lot more interesting,” he muttered darkly. “What possesses that fool to sit in his mountain and hide, wasting this opportunity?”
“His own inferior intellect, I suspect,” Garnuk replied. “Or, perhaps he is waiting for reinforcements. We know that the remains of the besieging force from Ishkabur are returning to Dun Carryl.”
“They’re likely already back,” Tarq agreed. “That report is a couple days old now.”
“Possibly,” Garnuk agreed. “Still, I think that a change of plans might be in order. If – ”
He broke off suddenly as a vertag stumbled through the front of the pavilion. “Sorry, general,” he muttered. “But I bring news from the Sthan army. The dragon has been seen headed east.”
“East?” Garnuk asked, perplexed. “Show me on the map.”
The scout leaned over the table pointing to a spot in the pass. “The army is camped here, somewhat permanently. Didn’t look like they were going anywhere anytime soon. The dragon flew in this direction yesterday.”
The warrior traced a straight line on the map, a line that ran almost directly towards Dun Carryl.
Garnuk sat up straighter, frowning. “Did it return? Do we know if it reached the mountain?”
“We do not,” the scout said anxiously. “But we thought we should report this.”
“You did the right thing,” Garnuk agreed. “This could mean trouble,” he added worriedly. “If the dragon finds Dun Carryl, and leads the army there, the Usurper will be hard pressed.”
“What should we do?” the scout asked urgently, glancing back at the entrance to the pavilion.
“You rest,” Garnuk replied. “For now. Stay here tomorrow as well, just in case we get more news from our scouts. If the Sthan start to move, I want everyone recalled to that peak where we are leaving messages for Harg. From there we will decide on our next move.”
“What sort of move will that be?” Tarq asked quietly, staring across the table at Garnuk.
The Exile frowned. “We’ll see when we get there,” he said pointedly. Tarq took the hint and asked no further questions.
The scout turned to go, then stopped. “By the way,” he said, “There was more news, I almost forgot. A force of men arrived from Ishkabur. Not very large, but enough to be worth mentioning. They have joined with the main army.”
Garnuk swore quietly. “Another problem,” he muttered. “Although they have probably left their city undefended, not that attacking it is a viable option . . . it would distract them though, maybe pull the army to the west.”
Tarq dismissed the scout, seeing that the general was drifting into one of his thinking moods. Finally, the Exile sighed and got to his feet, poking his head out of the tent to check the angle of the sun.
“It’s getting late,” he observed. “We’ll rest tonight, and see what tomorrow brings. Sometime in the next two days, we should know where the Sthan are headed next.”
“And if they head to Dun Carryl?”
Garnuk met Tarq’s gaze stoically. “Then so do we.”
The Exile left the pavilion and hiked around the perimeter of the vale, alone with his thoughts.
The next day, another scout arrived in the late afternoon. Garnuk and Tarq were not in the command center, but sitting beside one of the fires in the center of camp, taking a break from plans until they knew what the Sthan were doing. The scout found them easily enough, saluting quickly and delivering his message almost immediately.
“General, the Sthan are on the move. They are headed east, towards Dun Carryl, with the entirety of their force save some heavier siege weapons. These are retreating to Ishkabur, with a small escort.”
“Estimated arrival?” Garnuk asked stoically.
“Just under two weeks from yesterday,” the scout said confidently.
Garnuk nodded. “Return to the other scouts and have them meet us at this location.” He passed the scout a crude map, copied from the one in the command pavilion. “We will be there when you arrive in a temporary camp. No fires, no structures. Approach as carefully and stealthily as possible. We cannot risk the Usurper noticing us.”
“Yes, general.”
The scou
t turned and loped off back the way he had come. Garnuk sighed and poked at the fire with a long stick. Tarq said nothing, gazing into the flames.
“Be honest with me, Tarq,” Garnuk said suddenly. “Do you think we have failed?”
“No,” Tarq replied immediately.
Garnuk grimaced. “I asked you to be honest.”
“I am,” Tarq growled. “We did what we could, and we had an impact on this war. If not for us, there would be no chance of survival. As things stand, there is still hope for Dun Carryl and the rest.”
“You believe that?”
“I have to,” Tarq said, “Otherwise, there is nothing left to live and fight for.”
Garnuk nodded, then tossed his stick into the fire and rose to his feet. “Alert the others,” he said. “We’re going to Dun Carryl, to try and change the fate of our kind.”
Chapter 53:
The Last Camp
Shadow Squadron broke camp immediately, though it was already midafternoon and night would soon come to the mountains. Garnuk was wasting no time now that the moment had come. He sensed the others approved of his decision, saw it in the way they worked efficiently and precisely to pack their gear and form up in marching order, scouts deployed to either side. They put the fires out but did not bother with destroying the shelters. It would have taken valuable time, and there was no way they could take the dwellings with them anyway.
When his warriors were ready, Garnuk led them off to the south at a steady jog, climbing out of the vale and among the mountains, making for Dun Carryl. As he ran, the Exile reviewed his options, trying to settle on a plan that might succeed. There was one that kept returning to him, one so contrary he kept trying to dismiss it. But inevitably, he kept coming back to it again and again.
The sun set and Shadow Squadron continued running in disciplined formation. The scouts were drawn in a little closer to the main group to make sure nobody was lost, but other than this minor adjustment everything remained the same.
Over time, the temperature began to drop and Garnuk noticed his breath was creating white clouds in the air. The cold seeped slowly into his bones, making him feel lethargic and weak. Maybe they should rest, he thought, stumbling over a root. They could continue in the morning, the Sthan army was still several days away.
The Ramshuk (Heirs of Legacy Book 3) Page 53