Chapter Twelve

Dusk was falling. Camp was being set. Horses were being fed and watered. A supper of beans and bacon simmered in cookpots. Commander Havelock, Major Dryden, the squadron Captains, and Mar the wizard, were sitting discussing the next days of their march and the final approach to the northern passes. The weather was fair. Pickets had been set. The camp was calm. The officers were waiting for supper to be prepared and were discussing the final approach to the passes and where Haddock would be waiting. Havelock had a map of the passes unfurled on flat wide rock, around which the senior officers were assembled. They were nearing the Korum Mountains, which broke the horizon as jagged snow-covered teeth.

The commander pointed to two positions that were marked on the map, “This is where General Haddock intends to set his ambush. He noted to me, however, that the map is old and as always, the reality on the ground may not always match what is recorded.”

Dryden nodded, “We found the maps to be incomplete on our march. There were numerous smaller ravines and passages by which the enemy harried us. As I understood it, these passes were surveyed by the V.A.C. for the building of roads and telegraphs, not for planning war strategies.”

“Fetch Ugruz. He knows these lands,” Havelock told a nearby orderly who was attending to the needs of the officers. The man went to do as he was told.

The big man appeared shortly, ahead of the orderly who went back to the work of cooking their dinner, “What do you need?” The man was of a land far to the north and east. He used no honorifics like sir or sahib. He was straightforward and matter-of-fact. He was hired as a translator but had also become something of a guide for them.

“You have travelled the Kryval and gone over these northern passes, have you not?”

“I have.”

“What is missing from this map to your estimation?”

He leaned over and studied the map, “Much. There are goat paths here and here.” He gestured to the slopes. “There are narrow canyons here. This one leads to a smaller pass that few travellers take for it is steep and dangerous.”

“How know you of these?”

“In my youth, I spent two years smuggling aethium from Vurun to Ghinai. It was lucrative.”

“What stopped you?”

“An-Thabaz came across from Unkabi and took the fort at Zundak. They hung my… business partners.” He chose his words carefully to describe his compatriots, “This was before Shah Guranji and Vastrum conquered Vurun. It was even before the Kurik’az rebellion.” Ugruz must have been in his fifties now to have lived through such times, though he still seemed no older than his thirties, “You must know, there are many paths through the northern Korum. Only the desperate take most of them willingly, but Aisa, she is desperate.”

“What know you of Aisa, Dryden?” Havelock turned his attention away from Ugruz.

“She has never struck me as desperate,” He replied, “She is filled with hate for us. Her rage smoulders as an ember. She is calculating and not to be underestimated. The biggest mistake I have seen her make was not waiting to blow the bridge in Ghinai. She should have waited until we were on it. She has good warriors following her too. The An-Zhigo are fearless.”

“Then she must know that we are chasing her to an ambush,” Khathan interjected.

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“Indeed.” Dryden agreed, “She must. Yet she goes regardless.”

“Desperation makes warriors foolish,” Ugruz replied, “Only a desperate warrior would do these things.”

“She could be all Dryden says, and still be desperate. What would a powerful warrior and a witch do in desperation, I wonder? Will she not have a trap waiting to be sprung? She is a sorceress. Mar, what trap would you spring with your magic?” Havelock mused.

“I have not her strength and I know not the limits of her power. For those of us with limits to our power, we have one shot in battle, perhaps two, before our strength wanes and we need rest. In the conservatory, we were taught to wait until the tide of battle ebbs and to use our power like a great lever to shift the momentum of the fight. Were it I, I would wait until battle was nearly engaged, and then force a path through or break a charge with a forceful evocation. Will she wait in such a manner? I know she has great power over the dead. Ugruz, know you of any ancient battlefields or graveyards in this land? She used such to great effect on General Blackwater’s army.”

“None I know.” The big easterner replied.

“That is a relief, at least.” Dryden said, “I would not relish facing an army of dead again.”

Ugruz was staring at Mar, “You say you have not the power, warlock, yet you are marked by Tizrun.”

“I am what?” Mar replied, perplexed.

“Tizrun. God of the mountains.” Ugruz insisted gesturing to Mar’s face, “He has scarred you.”

“I know not of what you speak, barbarian. I have not your strange religion.” Mar answered, his tone was dismissive.

“You men of the west, you have no gods, yes?”

“They are dead, that is true,” Dryden replied.

“You are not in Vastrum where the gods are dead. I am not surprised that you do not know. Even the Ans in Vurun have forgotten them. But our gods still live. They are strong. It is either a great honour or a great wickedness to be noticed by them. Seek a zhami, warlock.”

“A what?”

“A kind of priest for the gods of this land. It is a wonder that Tizrun has blessed you, and yet you know nothing of it.” The man had a kind of look of awe on his face as he looked at Mar’s face.

“Why have you said nothing of this before?” Mar asked.

“I wondered at it and prayed. I did not know you. Now I feel it is right for me to tell you this.”

“Where can I find a zhami?”

“It will be easier to find them east of the Shan, where the old gods are still held in fear and reverence.”

Dryden remembered what Colonel Hood had said, that Aisa had found her power in the east, and what Kal’kuris had said, came rushing back to him, “Go east of the Shan, to the place where the blood of the land spills from the mountains onto the indigo steppe. You will find the ruins of the eldest in that place. It is there she delved her secrets.” That was what the emissary had said. The agent of Colonel Hood. The man who served King Kurush and loathed the King’s sorcerous twin sister Aisa. The man who had helped destroy the Vastrum army, taken the colonists into his custody, and then saved Dryden’s life and let him go. He asked Ugruz of it, “Do you know of the place where the blood of the land spills onto the indigo steppes? Is it to do with Tizrun?”

The man looked carefully at Dryden, measuring him, “It is no place for men.”

“That’s what I was told. I was also told it was where Aisa gained her power. Have you been there?”

“I have.” Ugruz's tone was grim as he said it. There was silence around the map. Officers looked to one another. None had any idea what they were speaking of, but they knew it was important and dangerous, whatever it was.

“When we are over the pass, you will take me there,” Dryden stated matter of factly, “And Mar.”

Ugruz looked at him cooly, “If I refuse?”

“I don’t believe you will.”

“Why not?”

“Because it pleases Ugruz to do what other men would never dare,” Dryden smirked as he said the words.

There was silence for a few moments. Ugruz looked at him peculiarly. There was silence as everyone at the table held their breath waiting for his response.

“Am I wrong?” Dryden asked. His tone said he knew he was right.

Ugruz grinned, then laughed a great huge belly laugh, “I like you, Vastrum. You will die in Dau. It is demon-haunted and spirit-cursed, but I will take you there, so you can see for yourself what a fool you are being.”

Two more days of hard riding and again they caught sight of the dust and sand being kicked up by the enemy horses. Then at dawn of the third day, while they were riding up through the foothills of the Korum mountains, between two great stony hills, shots rang out somewhere in the distance, echoing down the ravine walls like the tolling of great temple bells. The battle for the northern passes had begun.