Chapter Six Guthnyr #2
The basic impossibility of this claim, one they all appeared to accept, left a lingering doubt in Guthnyr’s breast. No one can escape death, he decided, pondering the possibility that both Morvek and Nihlvarian had been gulled over the course of centuries.
The Vortigurn’s heirs must have maintained this fiction through mummery for generations.
Even he knew that the King of Nihlvar was never seen outside the confines of his hall.
Yet he found his thoughts turning to his great-grandfather.
All his life, Guthnyr had never encountered anyone who could tell him Margnus Gruinskard’s true age.
In fact, every relative or servant of the Tielwald said he had been old when they first met him.
Guthnyr dimly recalled his mother relating a story of how his great-grandfather led the campaign that wiped out the last vestiges of slavery in the early years of the Sister Queens’ reign.
Although never studious, Guthnyr knew these events to have occurred more than two centuries ago.
“Believe it or don’t,” Deyna said as Guthnyr’s silent pondering continued. “In truth, it matters little. What matters is that the great Morvek reconquest of Nihlvar will not happen. And at least now we know why.”
Iyaka seemed about to protest, but grim resignation overcame her before the words reached her lips.
“Meaning,” Sygurn said, “we can’t head west and I’m buggered if I know where we’ll go if we head east.”
“We will seek Tirohk’s counsel on the morrow,” Iyaka said. “Fierce he is, but he has always been wise and sober in the ways of war.”
Guthnyr didn’t know if the Morvek had an equivalent word to “fuck”, but if they had, he was fairly sure Tirohk yelled it when he began pounding his war club against the nearest boulder.
Velkar explained that the spittle rich diatribe issuing from the war chief’s lips amounted to variations of the phrase “Lying Vulksa dogs who have congress with their own mothers!”, but Guthnyr suspected this to be a polite translation.
By the time Tirohk was done, his war club was a shattered stick and steam rose from his sweat-covered torso. Regarding Guthnyr with a heaving chest but a steady eye, he said, “Olchar must be punished. And the Vulksa purged.”
“And as we war with each other the Rulchakin send another army,” Velkar said.
“I cannot just sit here while treachery lurks at our backs,” Tirohk retorted. “The other clans must know.”
“This pass cannot remain unguarded,” Iyaka said. “I will go and speak for the Vehlkasa. Spread word of Olchar’s betrayal and the Telchak’s capture.”
“I will go with her,” Velkar stated. “So that her words are believed. We will make for the Teyracha. I know my people are loyal to the Telchak’s cause.
Their anger at his betrayal will be fierce and you will have the justice you crave.
Until we return, I ask that you guard well these people.
” She gestured to Guthnyr. “They bring many weapons of steel that can cut through any armour worn by the Rulchakin.”
“No,” Guthnyr said, forestalling Tirohk’s reply and drawing puzzled looks from all present.
Drawing in a deep breath, Guthnyr faced them, speaking on in calm but unambiguous tones.
“I will not ask any of you to follow me, but I cannot stay here. I am not Ruhlin… the Telchak. I have not his ways with words or friendship. All I can say is that I will not abide in idleness while he remains in bondage. I have lost one brother, I will not lose another.”
“Well, you’re not fecking going alone,” Sygurn stated, moving to Guthnyr’s side. Aleida was quick to join him, with the other freed slaves following.
“Countless Rulchakin stand between you and the Vortigurn’s capital,” Velkar pointed out. “You cannot hope to fight your way to the Telchak’s side.”
“Perhaps not,” Guthnyr admitted. “But while our foe is numerous, we know the Vortigurn has sent most of his warriors across the sea to fight my people.” He looked at Tirohk, trying to imbue his words with earnest confidence.
“With sufficient strength and cunning I know we can outwit and outfight any force they send against us. And—” he nodded at Deyna “—we have one among us steeped in their ways.”
Tirohk let out a caustic laugh. “You would have us follow her word? A Tuhlvyr?”
“Tuhlvyr no longer. She has earned the Vortigurn’s wrath so her only choice is to help orchestrate his end.
Also, she has a plan.” He grinned at her frown.
“Your mind is far too sharp not to have hatched some scheme, otherwise I feel certain you would have found a way to divest yourself of our company by now. So speak up. What is it?”
Her expression softened into a resigned knitting of the brows.
“However fierce they may be,” she said, “there are too few warriors here to challenge a decent-sized and disciplined army in open field, even when armed with your remarkable steel. Striking directly into the Nihlvarian heartland invites only destruction. We will need more strength than we have.” She matched Guthnyr’s grin with one of her own.
“And, by good fortune, I know just where to find it.”
“This is where you expect to find strength?” Guthnyr cast a dubious eye over the stunted ruins clinging to the slope ahead.
The three-day trek from the Sahlrak to this otherwise undistinguished stretch of mountainside had been arduous and plagued by blizzards.
As a consequence, they were unable to properly scout the surrounding country for fear of losing contact amid the blinding snow.
Guthnyr spent each day in dire expectation of a Nihlvarian patrol looming out of the swirling white curtain.
Just one of Velkar’s wolves would have been a great asset, but the elder was no longer willing to be parted from any of her children.
Their farewell at the Sahlrak had been brief but weighty with the import of their respective missions.
“Once we have given the word to the clans, we will come to you,” Velkar said. “If we can.” From the guarded set of her features, Guthnyr concluded she expected to face as much danger in her own lands as he did in Nihlvar.
Forcing a smile, he said, “If you cannot, I understand. Whatever happens, know this. I will find Ruhlin ehs Kestryg and I will free him, no matter the distance and no matter the cost.”
Deyna regarded the cluster of ruins with a mix of disdain and relief.
Although she had shown more fortitude than he expected during the march, sustained exertion still took its toll.
“No,” she replied with the strained patience of one unused to constant questions.
“It’s where I expect to sleep. Our journey has barely begun. ”
Upon closer inspection, it became clear that the ruins were the remains of a mining village much like Tahrim Kyrn but considerably larger.
The buildings were also in a far worse state of repair although, thankfully, there were no old bones and grinning skulls littering the fallen stone.
Guthnyr and Tirohk spent an hour scouting the nearby slopes and deciding where best to place their pickets.
The Vehlkasa war chief had refused to allow more than half his war band to accompany them, despite the fact that they had all been willing to join this possibly doomed foray into the domain of their hated enemies.
Guthnyr knew the Sahlrak still needed to be guarded against another Nihlvarian assault, but Tirohk’s decision left them with barely four hundred warriors all told.
“That Rulchakin woman had best fulfil her promise,” Tirohk said, as if sensing Guthnyr’s thoughts. “Are you so certain she can be trusted?”
They had paused where the narrow track from the ruins snaked around the eastern shoulder of the mountain.
The snow had abated enough to reveal the valley below.
It was uncultivated land, bare of boundaries and rich in open ground for several miles before it gave way to dense forest. Useful for concealing our movements, Guthnyr mused inwardly. But also perfect for ambush.
“Trusted?” He laughed and shook his head. “I’ve little doubt she would tell any number of lies if it suited her purpose. Yet, I’ve learned two certain truths about her. First, she intends to live, and reclaim what she has lost. Also, she hates the Vortigurn.”
“Enough to betray her own people?”
“I doubt such concerns even occur to her. But if they did, I think she’d betray her own mother if it gave her a chance to put a knife to the Vortigurn’s throat.”
Some of the walls remaining in the village stood high enough to provide a modicum of shelter, but not all.
Many, like Guthnyr, chose to bed down in the entrance to one of the mine shafts sunk into the mountainside.
The shaft itself extended only a dozen feet before ending in a jagged wall of fallen granite, not that Guthnyr intended to explore any deeper than necessary.
Piling up some loose stone in the tunnel mouth as a guard against the wind, he set about lighting his fire for the evening.
“Not bedding down with your warriors?”
Deyna stood next to his makeshift wall, taunting expression in full evidence tonight. A corner of her mouth formed a dispiritingly inviting curve and she had an eyebrow raised in mock judgement. Guthnyr ignored her and blew another gentle breath on the kindling, birthing a yellow lick of flame.
“Don’t you worry they’ll take it ill?” the Tuhlvyr persisted. “Absenting yourself from their company like this.”
“Leadership demands distance,” he said, though he spoke it in Ishtan. His understanding of the language was poor, but Felnir had taught him enough to comprehend the meaning of a phrase his brother had learned from a general of the Saluhtan’s army.
“A curious tongue,” Deyna said, pursing her lips. “Where does it hail from?”
“An empire as rich in gold as it is in sand.” Guthnyr tossed some twigs upon the kindling. “At least according to my brother who actually went there. I never did.”