The Storm's Own Son (Book 3) (17 page)

They went on horseback as they talked, riding northwest along the inland road with Hadrastus and his vanguard of heavy foot. To their right was the tangled mass of wooded hills between the friendly city of Megasi and enemy Etosca. On the left was a fertile farm country of gentle rolling valleys. Gray, hazy clouds loomed overhead. Talaos turned again to the warlord.

"Who lives in these hills then?"

Kurvan scratched his chin. "They're a mix. Partly of folk not too different from people in the towns and villages around here, or Megasi even. That and something else. Another folk going back a long way, but not kin to mine. They've got a tough reputation, and not in a good way. Lots of fighting their own cousins, old feuds, bandit work, that kind of thing." 

Talaos surveyed the steep, dark tangled hillsides. "Is that the other reason why there are no good roads through those hills?"

Kurvan growled, "Most likely. It's too bad, because if there were, we could cut days off the march to Etosca. Even after visiting Larikos."

The warlord was right about that, thought Talaos. The hills continued east and became a wide peninsula stretching into the eastern sea that then broke up into a tangle of thinly populated islands. Those islands had been the scene of the long naval standoff earlier in the war. It was a formidable obstacle by land and sea, made worse now.

"First we've got to visit him, and see what needs to be done." said Talaos. "And for that, we'll need to cut down on the chances of things going wrong. Meanwhile we keep the main army marching on its way. How many hillmen can you spare?"

"Whatever we send into the hills will also be our cover on that side. So, probably close to half. The other half can keep their guard on the plains."

"Good," replied Talaos, "I'll let you decide how you best want to use them, so long as they keep the country around tied up, and prevent any surprises while we go in."

With that he turned to Hadrastus. The giant walked alongside them in his bronze plate armor, with his helm off and a reflective expression in his pale blue eyes.

"General Hadrastus, your job will be to follow behind me, to be on hand at the right time if we have trouble. You’ll be backed by the Wolves. If we come under attack by large numbers of warriors, try to keep them pinned down while I deal with Larikos himself."

Hadrastus nodded, but then replied, "You'll be taking a great risk."

Talaos and Kurvan laughed.

~

Talaos, the Madmen, Sorya, and Katara stalked through the dense forest of the valley bottom under a gray sky. Woods-wise Imvan scouted ahead. Sorya and Firio crept silent and stealthy along the flanks. All of them wore light outer cloaks of forest green. Talaos, at the head of the main group, had his hood pulled very low to cover the light in his eyes. He compensated for the reduced visibility by use of his inner sight.

For a moment, he was reminded of the assault on Drosta's camp, but this was a far more uncertain situation. They would use stealth to get as far as they could, but there would be no unnoticed dispatching of guards or casual walks to the center of power. In any case, only two miles behind followed Hadrastus's force of five hundred, and few of them were stealthy.

Larogwan walked close by, and said in a low voice, "It's a little too quiet, all in all."

"Kurvan's got a lot of men advancing on either side back there," replied Talaos, "so I'd expect to hear something soon."

Imvan suddenly stopped in his tracks. Talaos motioned for the others to do the same. The young hillman paused for a long while, surveying ahead, then crept back to Talaos's position.

"Village ahead," whispered Imvan, "recently lived in, but no one there that I can see."

Talaos nodded, turned to those with him, and motioned for them to gather around. "It looks like we're expected," he said, "which means it is time for speed to take precedence over stealth."

Kyrax and Vulkas both brightened and grinned, while Halmir and Katara took on grim, yet expectant expressions. Larogwan shrugged, and Epos was silent in his helm.

Talaos called Imvan, Firio, and Sorya to him. "You three, though, should try to stay stealthy. Keep apart from the main group, and if we meet any trouble along the way, be ready to give them a surprise."

"I love surprises!" smiled Firio.

Sorya smirked and nodded to Firio, "You and I flank, with Imvan in the lead?"

"That works," said Firio. "Imvan?"

Imvan nodded gravely, and started forward to the right in careful silence.

"Everyone else, with me," said Talaos, and he in turn continued on.

The tall trees loomed overhead, and the slopes on either side grew steeper. They reached the little village, a cluster of a dozen ramshackle, poorly constructed wooden houses, with pens full of sleepy hogs.

"Imvan was right," said Larogwan. "Looks like they dropped what they were doing and left in a hurry."

Talaos nodded, and motioned them onward. The valley continued to narrow, and grew steeper. There was a clear and well used trail from the village running uphill, with towering trees overhead. They went on for a while in the shadows as the valley became a gully. The gully became a shallow depression on a hillside, and the trail switched back and forth until it reached a ridge line. Near the top were very old-looking garden terraces dug back into the slopes. Atop the ridge itself stretched a ramshackle patchwork of fenced pasture. Shaggy, half-wild looking goats grazed in the weeds and grass.

As they passed them, Vulkas nodded to Larogwan, "Good to see your cousins are here."

"Aye," answered Larogwan, "and you'll not be wanting to pick a feud with us."

Woods ran along the right of the ridge line, while more pasture sprawled to the left. The trail here joined with another and became a kind of small road running down the center of the ridge. There was another village further on at the end of the ridge, then a belt of woods, and finally higher ground where several ridges came together at a forested hilltop. The enemy's stronghold was atop that hill, as he'd been informed, but there was something odd.

"I think that is a place of death…" whispered Halmir.

In the distance could be seen what indeed looked like the ruins of a fortress, but it was carved from the rocky peak of the hill itself. Its lofty battlements formed a pentagon of five equal sides. At each corner loomed a squat circular tower, and the outer face of each tower was sculpted into the stylized, blocky face of a snarling beast. All of it looked ancient and weathered. He saw no visible gate, gatehouse, or even a ramp.

A great many people crowded atop that fortress. Talaos had a sense of something else in the place, of a hidden and unfriendly power.

"Halmir, I think you're right," he said.

"Talaos, I might be inclined to wait for Hadrastus," said Larogwan, "but I'll guess you have other ideas."

Talaos made a darksome smile in reply and continued forward. Imvan and his smaller group vanished into the woods on the right. The road, such as it was, was rutted and muddy. The goats grazed peacefully in their pasture behind weathered, moss-grown fences, but there was still not a person to be seen outside of the fortress.

Katara drew close to Talaos and spoke, "I see no one, but it feels like a trap."

"No doubt it is," he replied, "and it will be interesting to see what form it takes."

The Northwoman gave him a wondering look.

Vulkas, who was close by, chuckled. "We Madmen did earn our name, Katara."

"It is worthy of honor," she replied gravely.

The second village, though larger and a bit better constructed, was as empty as the first. They passed through it and onward toward the waiting fortress atop the hill. As they neared the point where the woods along the right of the ridge merged with the larger belt of woods around the hilltop, Talaos could make out new details. The thick, crumbling battlements had no crenellations. Armed men gathered along the walls, and archers in four of the towers, but the closest tower held a tall post with a crossbar, like a gallows.

Standing on that tower was a man draped in a white cloak. He held a long gleaming knife in his right hand. Around him gathered women and children. Talaos stretched his inner sight. Seen that way, a cloud brooded around the man, but not like the Prophet's shadows.  It was more like mist in the air, a mist of red.

"That's Larikos in that closest tower," said Talaos.

"What's that bastard doing with all those kids up there?" growled Kyrax.

They passed through the belt of woods, and came to a gently upward-sloping meadow. There was no cover of any sort between the outer belt of woods and the dense forest on the final, central hill. Talaos motioned for them to stop just before the end of the trees.

"That trap Katara talked about," said Talaos. "This would be a likely place for it."

With his inner sight, he sensed that Imvan, Sorya, and Firio were hidden to the right in dense undergrowth. Katara and the rest of the Madmen waited behind him. He took stock of the situation. At Megasi they'd told him the enemy had a hilltop stronghold, but it wasn't supposed to be so intact. Larikos was also clearly well prepared. He decided that if he couldn't end things quickly, they'd have to wait on the main force after all, and that could mean a siege.

Then his thoughts were interrupted.

"You gonna hide in them woods all day?" said a plain, rough-edged voice that reminded him of Dromno. It reverberated from the fortress, louder than anyone's could be without magic.

From here, he had a better view. Larikos stood on the crumbling lip of the battlement itself. He was a tall, lanky man with a long, gaunt face and long brown hair, and a lofty, tapering bronze helmet on his head. He threw back his cloak, revealing white robes mottled in random patterns of red-brown, and waved his long knife in the air.

Besides Larikos, most of the people visible along the walls were dressed ordinarily enough in tunics or dresses of common Hunyos style, and simple earthy colors. There were a few others, all women it seemed, in mottled white robes of their own.

"Well? I know it's you. C'mon, Storm Lord!" yelled Larikos.

As he spoke, several children of various ages climbed precariously on the battlement close around him. Behind them, a group of women and older boys were performing some kind of labor around the gallows.

That was odd too, thought Talaos. Whatever was going on up there, waiting longer wasn’t going to help. "Main group," he whispered, "with me.”

With that, Talaos stalked forward out of the woods with six companions.

Larikos laughed, a wild, high-pitched, scratchy-sounding laugh like steel scraped over stone. He waved his knife in Talaos's direction and shouted, "Seven of ye? Haw! Well, I heard you had balls, stormy! I know you got my hills swarming with them that call themselves hillmen, but they ain't close enough to do ye much good right now!"

Talaos called out to Larikos in a booming, yet cheerful, almost friendly voice, "So Larikos, what made you change your mind about the Prophet?"

Larikos, chuckled and replied. "He got it all wrong! People gotta come together and make sacrifices, no doubt about it, but some gotta rise to something greater. Some, but not all."

As Larikos spoke, and Talaos drew closer to the base of the hill, the work of the others on the tower became clear. A man in the uniform of Megasi was hauled up, bound and hanging by his feet from the scaffold. He didn’t move, and it was unclear if he was alive. His companions reacted with varying degrees of surprise, but Talaos forced down his revulsion and showed no outward change in manner.

"And you're going to lead them?" asked Talaos, cheerily, as he continued forward. In his mind, he gauged the distance.

"That's right, I'll lead ’em, all of ‘em!" answered Larikos. "I'm the one… wait there a second…"

With that, Larikos leapt down from the battlement, behind the children, and walked over to the soldier of Megasi hanging upside down from the gallows. Swift and sure, as if with much practice, Larikos cut the man's throat with his long knife. The women and older boys around put cups underneath to collect the blood.

There were growls from among the Madmen. Vulkas muttered in a low voice, "Talaos, what's your plan?"

Talaos didn't answer, though by his will the clouds overhead gathered and darkened. As he advanced, he shouted to Larikos again, "So what makes you the one?"

The latter hopped back up on the battlement with a silver cup full of blood. The children there clung close to him. Larikos took a drink while others near him passed cups around and sipped.

Then he answered, "Simple! It was always in me blood. Then the Prophet's people came poking around here for old secrets. They said they was lookin’ for sinful things to destroy. Haw! Well, I already found some things they didn’t need to know, and they found some others I liked better'n I liked them!”

"Like what?" asked Talaos as he continued his approach, and his estimations. He thought he'd only get one chance. He'd need to advance ahead of the others. For the sake of accuracy, he decided to risk the archers on the other towers. He had no desire to hit those children by mistake.

On the battlement, Larikos handed the cup to one of the smaller children, who sipped, while a woman in a white robe handed him a bronze hand axe of an odd, sickle-bladed design. Talaos prepared to sprint, and to call the power that would slow the world, or rather speed himself and his perception faster.