Dark Realm: Book 5 Circles of Light series (25 page)

Emla and Nesh, helping
Sket, who insisted he was fine. He was allowed to offer Farn a
couple of friendly insults before Emla and Nesh dragged him,
complaining bitterly, back to the infirmary.

Sergeant Essa
approached, flanked by Shea and Gossamer Tewk. Farn’s eyes
brightened, the blue more his usual sapphire. When Essa smiled at
him he was entranced. He insisted she kneel beside him so he could
inspect her teeth more closely. He greatly admired the purple stain
and demanded to know how his teeth could be coloured so
wonderfully. Gossamer caught Tika’s glance and rolled her eyes in
sympathy. When Shea expressed a similar admiration, Kija huffed
loudly.

‘Your teeth are fine as
they are child. Pretty little teeth you have.’

Shea
blushed.

‘And you are very
pretty,’ Farn added. His eyes had definitely regained their
sparkle. ‘Three more pretty girls,’ he crowed.

Chapter
Fourteen

Strannik ordered his
force south, through the Barrier Range, with all speed. Forward
scouts were seeking the easiest route for both foot guards and the
four hundred mounted guards with their hundred spare horses. He
gave no thought to Captain Lessur or General Whilk. They were
already dead, or would be very shortly.

The Imperatrix had
given private audience to Middle Captain Strannik several times
before the army departed Kelshan. He had been told, in strictest
confidence, of the treachery of General Whilk and Captain Lessur,
and of Veranta’s suspicions of six other officers. All of those
officers had either trained directly under the General or had been
attached to his personal staff at some time.

Veranta did not inform
Strannik that Ternik, tutor to her daughters, was gifted with mage
talents. Strannik had always been one of the most rabid opponents
of any suggestions that those sort of people be allowed to develop
their skills. Veranta hinted that she had sent spies into the Dark
Realm. And thus had learned of the horrors which flourished where
magic was allowed free rein.

Strannik believed her
every word. He had come close to losing his rank twice, brought
before General Whilk on charges of unnecessary brutality when
questioning prisoners from the wild clans. His family was wealthy
enough to pay the fines both times, without delay. His father had
many things to say about the expense, but he had paid.

Strannik had no sealed
orders to open en route. He had been told what was expected of this
“expedition” and he relished the opportunity it offered. Veranta
dismissed the idea of gentler handling of farmers, peasant
labourers, women or children.

‘Kill any you meet,’
she’d told him casually.

Strannik admired the
way Veranta carried on her role as Imperatrix when she must be
devastated with worry over her missing daughter. Strannik wasn’t
intelligent enough to have ever noticed that people became his
friends purely with an eye to his wealthy background. The men who
lived and worked with him had little or no respect for him in fact,
after witnessing how easily that wealth bought him out of any and
every difficulty.

The army camped for the
third night since abandoning Captain Lessur. They were strung out
for nearly a quarter of a league as the valley they were following
rapidly narrowed. The four scouts reported back as the sun dropped
behind the valley rim. They all had disappointing news. The only
trails any of them could find were wide enough only for two men on
foot abreast or a single file of riders.

Strannik scowled.
‘There must be wider passages,’ he insisted. ‘We will march on
tomorrow but you will leave before dawn and find me that broader
path.’

The scouts headed for
the cook tent, saying nothing while they mingled with guards
queuing for their suppers. They took their usual rations a small
distance apart from other guards and squatted to eat.

‘There ain’t no other
trail,’ one scout muttered through a mouthful of hard
bread.

‘We know that Keff, but
there’s no tellin’ those bloody officers,’ replied the eldest, a
grizzled veteran whose wild clan roots were overlooked because of
his quite uncanny skills at tracking.

‘So what do we do
Chak?’ Keff grinned, guessing the older man’s answer.

Chak sniffed. ‘I’m
going up along the rim. Come down. Then I’m heading for
home.’

The man next to him
hitched closer. ‘Sounds a good idea to me,’ he said. ‘But won’t
them officers work it out and send after us?’

‘Weasel, they’ll just
think we’ve bumped into something nasty, or fallen off a cliff.
They don’t have the brains among them to work out that we’d go
round ’em and home.’

Weasel, so called
simply because he looked like one, nodded sagely. Then he grinned.
‘Reckon they’ll wet theirselves when they see them cliffs a few
leagues on.’

‘You with us Cully?’
Keff asked the scout who’d remained silent so far.

‘Aye. Had enough of
this lot. But I wouldn’t mind knowing what was past them
mountains.’

Chak laughed and
slapped Cully’s shoulder. ‘That’s what makes us good scouts – want
to know what’s over the next hill. I’d go on if this was a trade
mission, but I’ve got a bad feeling with all these
guards.’

Heads nodded
agreement.

‘I was told it was just
a small expedition,’ said Keff. ‘No more’n a couple hundred people
and no mention of guards.’

‘Me too,’ agreed
Weasel. ‘I’d never have signed up for it if I’d known it was a
whole bloody army.’

‘And what happened to
Captain Lessur?’ Cully asked. ‘He’d not much in the way of a brain,
but he was one of the Old Man’s lads, not like this bastard
Strannik.’

Chak grunted. ‘Turn in
lads. I’ll kick you out of your blankets well before
dawn.’

There was the palest
glimmer of light to their left when the four scouts rode away from
the camp and headed south. They automatically let Chak take the
lead. He was considered an excellent scout by the army and by
traders and hunting parties, but he was a legend among other
scouts. By mid morning they’d cleared the head of the valley and
were riding carefully along a trail which clung precariously to the
side of a cliff. Chak rode on until the trail broadened and a tiny
stream splattered over the rocks, falling from somewhere on the
cliff high above.

‘Those guards’ll be
coming up the other side of this nice cliff wall by late
afternoon,’ he said, facing the other three, hands on hips. ‘I’m
going on. South. I want to know what’s over those mountains
now.’

Cully grinned. ‘I’m
with you then Chak.’

Keff and Weasel nodded.
‘And us,’ said Weasel.

‘I trust you lot swiped
a few extra canteens and dry stores?’ Chak raised a grey
eyebrow.

The three others
exchanged smirks. ‘’Course we did. Think we’re idiots?’

‘I came this way
yesterday,’ Chak told them. ‘If we go a little further north again,
there’s a trail down to the east and then it turns back due south.’
He swung back into his saddle and led them on.

Strannik was annoyed
when none of his four scouts returned, but as Chak had foretold, he
assumed they’d met with accidents. This idea was reinforced when he
rode out of the valley and saw the cliffs towering ahead. Then one
of the guards marching immediately behind Strannik, let out a yell
and pointed across and up. On a shadowed ledge stood a mountain
cat. Silvery grey fur, thick around its shoulders, glinted in the
lowering sun. Its mouth opened in a snarl and a barking roar echoed
across to the staring men. Then it was gone. No one saw which way
it moved and there appeared to be no cave opening behind it into
which it could have retreated.

Because the terrain had
worsened so quickly, Strannik had to order a halt earlier than he
would have liked. A few of the remaining officers were increasingly
concerned at the whole idea of trying to take such a large body of
men through such inhospitable lands. Already there was a lot of
grumbling, albeit quietly voiced, among the foot guards. The line
of men was strung out badly now and many older guards, with
experience of fighting the wild clans in the far north of Kelshan,
told of ambushes in just such conditions.

One or two bowmen, or
swordsmen, could wreak havoc on the line of Imperium guards, and
most of them realised it. Strannik kept aloof. He saw no reason to
mingle with common soldiery, either while they marched or when they
camped at night. He’d never understood why General Whilk made such
a point of learning men’s names, about their families, or even why
the old man sat by campfires listening to tall stories of past
campaigns.

Most guards were a
superstitious lot, but none of the officers or Strannik noticed a
sudden blossoming of fetishes, charms and talismans, which were
definitely not part of a guard’s official uniform. Only a couple of
officers were aware of the growing sullenness among the men. The
unit leaders, men in charge of nine others forming a unit of ten,
were deeply aware of the bad feeling lurking ever more heavily
around their men.

Word spread down the
long line that all four scouts had disappeared without trace.
Several guards who knew one or other of the scouts did some serious
thinking and ended up even more unhappy with this “expedition”. To
aggravate the mood, the wind, which always rose more fiercely as
darkness fell, roared its chilly way between the cliffs as if
deliberately channelled by some malign god. Very few of the men
missed the fact that when the moon drifted clear of the mountain,
it was blood red.Strannik gave evidence of his inexperience in
command, and of his basic stupidity, by not ordering a roll call.
He hadn’t bothered to do so since usurping Captain Lessur. So he
was quite unaware of the tail enders of the column quietly slipping
away, the first of many, on this ill omened march.

Chak led his companions
south, deeper, and higher. Weasel had queried the decision to
continue with the horses but Chak just grinned and kept moving.
Weasel shrugged his easy acceptance: Chak’s path finding skills
were renowned, but only a very few fellow scouts knew Chak was mage
gifted.

Five days passed while
the weather stayed kind. Bright sun during the days, the cold wind
from dusk to dawn. The sixth day brought low clouds swirling around
the four men, fingers of icy mist poking down their necks and up
their sleeves. They put on the oiled cloaks they carried behind
their saddles and rode on. They had seen no caves at all but that
night they came to the next best thing: a place where rock leaned
out over the trail to form an overhang deep enough to shelter men
and horses.

They slept soundly,
accustomed to rough living all their lives, and woke to find snow a
fist deep all around them. The clouds were gone and the sky bright,
although the sun was still hidden from sight behind the mountain at
their backs. Chak led them on. By midday they rode the narrowest
trail between sheer rock faces. They could touch the walls to each
side as they rode. The path twisted, seemed to double back, turned
again, and began to slope downwards.

Snow still lingered
where the sun had been unable to reach into the narrow defile. A
piercing scream made the horses jitter, but it was only an eagle,
commenting on their passage, from overhead. They cleared the
claustrophobically close rock formations and found themselves on a
grass covered plateau. Chak dismounted and advanced to its open
side. Mountains stalked onwards but better spaced, not crowded so
threateningly. He studied the view for a while, picking out
different routes and trails before nodding to himself in
satisfaction.

Weasel was prowling the
edges of the tiny meadow while Keff built a cook fire against the
eastern wall. Chak went to help Cully unsaddle the horses and rub
them down.

‘Enough grain for four,
five more days eh Chak? Think we’ll be through this lot by
then?’

Chak grunted. ‘They can
get some graze here, that’ll help. Reckon we’ll get low enough for
better grazing before the grain runs out.’

For the first time
since before they’d left the army, there was no biting wind that
evening. Weasel brought two skinny mountain hares to the fire,
which added flavour to the stew of dried beans Keff had
cooking.

Weasel woke first next
morning, their camp still in deep shadow but the sun already
shining on the rock wall across the little meadow. He lay for a
moment, wondering why he’d woken so suddenly. He heard a twig snap
and propped himself on an elbow, expecting to see Chak kindling the
fire to make a hot drink before they moved on. Weasel stared. A man
stared back at him. Weasel groped for his sword and realised it
wasn’t beside him. He kicked Chak and hissed at the
others.

‘We’ve got company.
Simert’s Balls, wake up!’

One man still sat by
the fire, but he’d been joined by another by the time the other
scouts struggled to sit up. They saw their own weapons neatly
stacked beside the seated man, but gave them only a glance. The
second man drew all their attention. He was huge. Half as tall
again as Cully who was the tallest of the scouts. His shoulders
were as broad as an average door, his head covered in dozens of
braids which stuck out in all directions. The seated man said
something in a guttural tongue, cocked his head to one side and
spoke again in a thickly accented common tongue.