Chapter-4-2

⁠—⁠—⁠— II ⁠—⁠—⁠—

The Sem lost no time in gathering what little they had and leaving Devil Rock. By now night had fallen completely. The eerie, heart-freezing howls of wolves sounded in the distance, borne on the winds that came down from the mountains. Even for the Sem with their excellent night vision the stony terrain made for difficult walking; still, the wildlings dared not use any lights to guide their way. If the Mongauli were to catch them here and now, there was no doubt that the tribes of the Sem would be destroyed to the last warrior.

The wildlings called out to each other as they moved, and those who marched at the outer edges of the group probed the ground ahead with long sticks—a technique, learned during their long years in the desert, that helped to frighten away many creatures of Nospherus before they could draw too near. Angel hair was blowing on the wind, coiling and twining around them, but the eerie floating substance was becoming less plentiful as the wildlings drew nearer to the higher crags. When they looked behind them the Sem could see many flaming torches spread out across the desert, like the lights of a fleet of fishing boats out to sea. It seemed that the Mongauli were arrogant after their victory at the oasis; they were no longer concerned about concealing themselves but wanted instead to push forward at top speed to find any Sem warriors who had survived the battle. Clearly they believed that their opponents no longer had the energy to fight back. The progress of the torches, like stars drifting across the desert, might have appeared dreamy and beautiful to a casual observer, but for the Sem the restless flames looked more like the fires of hell, flickering with the menace of impending death.

“If Riyaad were here…” Siba mumbled. “If Riyaad were here, without doubt he would order us to slip back close to the torches, and make a sneak attack to forestall their advance.”

“And if we did that, we would all be destroyed.” Gaulo had overheard Siba, and sneered in his powerful voice. “Evidently the creature called Riyaad desires us to be wiped out completely. But the Karoi don’t want to get mixed up in Raku business. We would not obey a fool’s orders.”

“Then why do you still follow us, and not take a different path?” Siba snapped back at him.

Gaulo shrugged his shoulders.

“That is funny. The Karoi thought the Raku were helpless and wanted to be with the Karoi. The Karoi are not afraid of oh-mu at all.”

“Are you saying the Raku are afraid of oh-mu?” Siba’s voice rose, and he was bristling. But he regained his self-control when Loto chided him.

“Don’t open your mouth. Focus your mind. We will soon arrive at Dog’s Head Mountain. If the oh-mu realize that, it will be the end of us.”

Suni was walking by Loto’s side. She was clearly suffering from her wounds, but she bore up bravely through the pain and offered no complaint. Siba glanced at her little figure and felt a sharp pang of pity. Then he looked ahead again, and saw Dog’s Head Mountain looming before them. He knew that many fearsome creatures would be lurking there—creatures worse than wolves, some worse even than the monsters of the desert. The Sem had already entered the foothills of the mountain, and the land was rising in uneven ridges, but the mountain itself was still a little distance away, so they could see its strange dog-shaped silhouette clearly. Siba, who was anxiously contemplating the various hazards that would await them once they approached the towering peak, suddenly came to a realization.

“This is the Dog’s Head Mountain, where Riyaad was heading,” he whispered excitedly in spite of himself. “If Riyaad came here, we are getting close to Riyaad.”

Meanwhile the Mongauli were drawing nearer. It was unclear whether or not they had noticed the Sem, but it was obvious that they had come eastward to hunt for them.

The Sem talked amongst themselves as they marched, discussing whether they should change direction to try to shake the Mongauli off their trail. The lights of the pursuers were still fairly distant, and it was impossible to determine if they had realized the Sem’s location, or if it was just a simple coincidence that they had sent their scouts in the Sem’s direction to search. Yet even bull-headed Gaulo didn’t suggest changing direction. If the Sem turned aside now, they would be heading away from the mountains into barren regions where the terrain offered no cover of any kind in which they might hope to hide. After their defeat it seemed natural to all the Sem to seek for a place of concealment.

“Suni, dear one,” a worried Siba called out to the girl as she staggered along. Wounded as she was, Suni was also showing signs of exhaustion and was increasingly lagging behind. “Suni, are you in pain?”

“I am all right. It is nothing!” the granddaughter of the chief asserted bravely. Siba knew that it was only her courage talking, but he felt a little relieved nonetheless. If Suni were to fall too far behind, Gaulo would insist that she had become an encumbrance and probably suggest that they abandon her or even kill her out of mercy. Siba kept an eye on the girl, wondering how long she would be able to keep going. It was not long before he noticed held-back tears shining in her eyes.

“Little Suni. Truly, how are you feeling?”

Suni shook her bandaged head eloquently and gave Siba a pleading look as if she wished to cling to him. After a moment she said in a low voice, “Siba, I want to help Rinda. Please help Rinda.”

“Suni, dear one…”

Siba was at a loss. He was a loyal Raku warrior, but he also admired Riyaad deeply. He had no objections to helping the twins whom Riyaad held in such high regard. Loto was his chief, however, and Loto had no intention of going back—not now, at any rate. It was clear that the tribes would need to settle down for a while before any daring action could be undertaken; Loto needed to talk to Gaulo, to calm him down and win him over, and then perhaps they could think about what could be done for the twins. Right now Gaulo’s faction didn’t care about two oh-mu prisoners. Siba shook his head powerlessly, and Suni pressed her hand to her mouth to keep herself from crying.

Once again the howling of desert wolves drifted down from the mountain crags. It was a sad and terrifying sound, a chilling music that made the hair on the Sem’s backs stand on end.

“…I report that our losses amount to three hundred and sixty-two dead, one thousand five hundred injured, and a few dozen horses killed,” the messenger’s toneless voice sounded in the desert night. “The deaths were almost all among the footmen, and the majority of injuries were caused by stone axe blows to the head or poison darts to the eyes.”

“The number of casualties is higher than I expected.” Amnelis was sitting on an ornate camp stool in front of her pavilion. She wore a satisfied look as she toyed with a whip that lay across her lap. “Still, the losses they suffered were far greater than ours—beyond comparison.”

The oasis had become a scene of gore in which every breath brought in the overwhelming reek of blood. A gruesome pyramid had been built with the severed heads of the Sem; their headless corpses littered the ground. The groans of their wounded had been replaced by a grim and final silence.

The Mongauli army had separated into two forces; one had left to pursue the fleeing Sem warriors, while the other went through the oasis to finish off the survivors. When it had been determined that no more Sem remained alive, this second group quickly reformed its ranks, sent messengers on ahead, and prepared to join the pursuit.

The advance force tracking the remaining Sem kept their comrades at the oasis updated with a constant stream of messages regarding the ape-men’s whereabouts.

“Sightings of Sem in the direction of the mountains.”

“The remaining barbarians have escaped into the hilly terrain to the east; it appears they have established an encampment there.”

“It is believed that the Sem are now heading into the rocky area at the foot of Mount Pherus.”

Amnelis listened attentively to each message as it arrived and responded with rapid-fire orders. “Don’t let them think we are pursuing them too closely. If we let them separate and scatter into the desert it will be difficult to round them up. Slow the pace of the pursuit—let them think that they’ve escaped, then give them a while to gather and regroup. Once they have assembled we will strike them again. Don’t let any of them, not even one, escape alive. Am I right, Gajus?”

“Yes, my lady,” the runecaster answered in a dull voice, gazing out at the lady from under his hood. His grim solemnity contrasted sharply with the keen air of the lady-general whose high spirits had returned.

“General, it will be trouble if they get up into the rocks on the mountainside,” Vlon worried.

Still enjoying the taste of the Mongauli victory and the capture of the twins, Amnelis let his objection pass without becoming angry.

“Of course, I have thought about that. I won’t let them climb the crags. Scout out the approaches—find their paths up onto the mountain—but remain out of sight. Let them think that they have a safe escape route there, but see to it there is a force waiting in ambush at the mountain’s foot. It will serve our purposes perfectly: a one-way path, with no way out. It will be their undoing. Am I right, Gajus?”

“Certainly…”

“But don’t let them suspect what we are doing. To ensure that they’re taken by surprise, let our main force ride with flaming torches, moving slowly to corner them. Meanwhile the holding unit will go on ahead. The main force’s action will be primarily a diversion; it’s the ambush that will do the job. The leader of the holding unit will be… Astrias. He performed well when he captured the twins of Parros. Irrim let too many of the Sem leaders escape.” Amnelis, feeling unusually garrulous, favored her subordinates with a pointed comment. “I didn’t expect that from you, Irrim. I told you to be sure those escape routes were closed off, but you let the wildlings slip through like water leaking from cupped hands. It’s a good thing you have a beard—your face must be red with embarrassment.”

Captain Feldrik of the white knights flinched uneasily at the general’s words.

“Very well,” she went on, her humorous mood passing. “We will set the trap during the night. Until then, we will merely follow the barbarians—not too close and not too far. We must not lose sight of the Sem, or make any obvious move that will reveal our plans. If anyone compromises this surprise attack, I will have him beheaded! See that Astrias is informed of his new command.”

“Yes, my lady!” Feldrik hurried to deliver the orders.

“This operation took much longer than I expected,” Amnelis turned and spoke more quietly to Gajus. “Now finally it will be ended. And after that, before searching with Cal Moru for the lost valley, we will establish a forward camp with a garrison of troops, and the rest of us will return to the River Kes to rest and resupply. Gajus, divine a propitious day for our return home.”

Softly, Amnelis laughed.

The lady’s high spirits had affected her aides, and Vlon and Lindrot joined in her merriment. If Count Marus had still been alive, he might have spoken up and checked the young general’s indiscretion. Amnelis—it is not yet the time to relax. I am proud of you for your success, but what is this about runecasting a date for our return? Thinking ahead is the job of a leader, fine. But it is too optimistic to believe that everything will go as planned: no plan is certain until it has been made real. It is too early to relax your hand from your sword. Please, don’t grow incautious. Do not forget that teaching of Alzandross' Book of Tactics: “A war is not ended until the last soldier falls.”

Count Marus was not there, however. Beginning with Feldrik, the white knights who served as the general’s aides did not dare correct her moods; instead they spent every moment catering to them.

Amnelis spent a moment lost in thought, gazing around absently as she twisted a strand of her long, shiny blond hair around one finger. The sun was setting across the desert, and darkness was gently laying its shroud upon the scene of blood and death around the oasis.

“Prepare to move immediately after sundown. Upon my signal, all soldiers will light flaming torches and begin to advance eastward along the path the Sem have taken. We must give the wildlings no hint that part of our force is elsewhere. Instruct the captains to spread the marching columns into broader formations, to cover more ground and make our numbers appear greater than they are. Astrias' unit will maneuver separately, and I trust that, this time, none of the Sem leaders will escape.” Amnelis paused, and then with a faint smile she added, “Consider this an order for the Sem’s execution.”

“Certainly, my lady!”

The Sem following Loto had no way of guessing the fate Amnelis had prepared for them. The path to Dog’s Head Mountain was long, and their progress was slow in the darkness. If they had dared to light their way they would have been able to advance through the rugged terrain more easily, and torches would also have helped to protect them from dangerous creatures such as stone-mimics. But in their fear of pursuit they did not dare call attention to themselves. Meanwhile, the flickering torches that followed behind them only heightened their anxiety; it was as if the Mongauli were mocking them, and the flames urged them forward. The fear of the desert wolves and the pain of wounding their feet on jagged rocks in the dark were as nothing compared to the terror of the Mongauli pursuit. Dog’s Head Mountain was tantalisingly close, but their journey seemed to be prolonged endlessly by the rocky ridges and defiles that crossed their path.

Kalto asked once to pause for a rest, but Gaulo told him coldly, “If you want to take a break, only the Rasa will take a break.”

After that, even Suni did her best to give no hint of fatigue.

The incessant howling of the wolves also caused the Sem great distress. The desert packs seemed to be waiting eagerly for the wildlings’ arrival, calling out with hungry howls. From every side the dangers closed in on the Sem: the wolves’ mountain ahead, the cold-hearted Mongauli following behind, and all around the perilous, tumbled rocks that held the prospect of attack by stone-mimics. And yet the wildlings had no choice but to trudge onward, holding back their misery in grim silence. How long could this march of terror continue?

“Gaulo.”

Loto’s voice was low, but its unusually sharp tone stopped the feet of the Sem.

“What is it? You cannot walk anymore because you are tired?” Gaulo spoke poisonously. “We will leave you here, then.”

Loto raised his hand, his grizzled white face looking upwards.

“Don’t you feel that something is not right?”

“What?”

Loto seemed hesitant to speak, but after a moment’s indecision he said, “Have you noticed that the howling of the wolves just dropped off?”

Gaulo shrugged his shoulders irritably. “The pack must have moved to the far side of the mountain.”

“No, I don’t think so. Balto cries have also ceased. This area has become too quiet. Something is wrong.”

Gaulo turned around and checked to make sure that the Mongauli torches were still in the distance. “The oh-mu are coming behind us. We are getting close to Dog’s Head Mountain. If the oh-mu could catch up with us, they would have already attacked us.” Gaulo gave Loto a fierce look. “Instead of standing here and worrying about wolves’ howling or not howling, why don’t we hurry on and try to get to the mountain? Once we reach Dog’s Head it will be safer—there is food and water there. The way up is right ahead. Let us hurry—”

“Ohh!”

Before Gaulo could finish speaking, the two chiefs’ ears were smitten by the piercing cries of the Rasa, who were leading the way for the Sem force.

“Oh-mu!”

“Oh-mu were waiting for us!”

“Yeee-aaa!”

“Gaulo! Siba!” Loto’s reaction was instantaneous. “It’s a trap! Let’s fight our way out! We will cut our way through the ambush!”

“That’s impossible!” Kalto screamed. He seemed on the verge of weeping. “The Sem cannot fight anymore! We must escape! Esca…” He turned around, and his despairing voice trailed off. The Mongauli torches were moving more quickly now, and drawing closer.

“Look!”

Siba pointed to the foot of Dog’s Head Mountain. Where until now there had been only shadow, lone torches had sprung to life and were moving like the ill-omened spirits of the dead, drawing strange figures in the darkness. With a feeling of dread the Sem realized that a force of Mongauli troops had placed a trap for them precisely where they intended to go; no doubt, those were signal fires communicating to the pursuing army that the Sem had been cornered.

“You bitches’ spawn! You swine!” Gaulo roared at the half-seen enemy.

But the wildlings had no time to waste in outrage or stupefied shock. As suddenly as if it had risen from the ground, a Mongauli ambush unit had emerged to close off the path between the Sem and Dog’s Head Mountain; meanwhile, the main force was catching up quickly from behind, their torches flickering like fireflies in the night.

“Loto!” Siba looked beseechingly at his aged chieftain, desperate for a plan of action.

“Keep calm. Be ready to hide behind the rocks as soon as the attack begins.”

Loto spoke serenely, and in his tone was something that transformed the Sem around him from cornered mice to formidable warriors once again. The wildlings readied their quivers of poisoned darts and lifted their stone axes. They placed Loto, Suni, and the others who were badly injured in the center of their force, and faced outward in all directions to be ready for the first attack. Rough breathing filled the darkness, and whispered cries of “Alphetto!”

“Attack!”

Suddenly the shout of a young Mongauli captain broke the silence of the night. Horses were not useful in this rocky area, and the Mongauli had dismounted along the way and advanced on foot. The metallic sounds of their armor revealed their position as they moved.

“Ayee-yaa!”

Gaulo, Kalto, and Siba issued rough orders, and battle was joined in the darkness—a battle to the death, with no quarter given.

“Au-ah! Aiee, ayee-yaaa!”

“Alphetto! Alphetto!”

“Mongaul! Mongaul! Mongaul!”

The moon was hidden and the stars had vanished from the sky. In the total darkness amongst the crags, the clash of stone axes against helmets and steel swords created bursts of blue sparks that illuminated the grimacing teeth of ape-men and the raised blades of knights in sudden, eerie flashes.

“Don’t lose them! Don’t let them escape!”

“Kill them all!”

There was no difference now between the Karoi and the Raku—it was difficult even to distinguish between Mongauli and Sem. The knights advanced with outstretched hands, and if they touched hard, cold armor they pulled back, but if they felt warm bristly hair a swift sword stroke would follow. Screams, high-pitched death rattles, and the thrashing of mortal agony proclaimed the result.

Siba picked up Suni and pushed her into a hole in the shelter of a large rock, then hefted his axe and returned to the battle. Huddled miserably in the bleak, narrow place, Suni tried to shrink her tiny body still smaller; she curled into a ball, wishing that she could sink into the ground.

Then, with a sudden thud, a Mongauli soldier who had been fighting nearby tripped over the rock that protected Suni and fell into the hole beside her. Eyes that burned hungrily with the lust of battle spied the hairy creature with shining eyes that cowered at the bottom.

“Here is one more!”

Even as the soldier shouted in his thick voice he raised his sword and prepared to plunge it into the cowering wildling girl.

“Hiiieee!” Suni screamed—

And the soldier made a faint gurgling noise and toppled over on his side. This time, it was not the rock that had taken him off his feet. Suni’s eyes grew round with surprise, and she tried to shrink deeper into the hole, but someone grabbed her roughly by her arms and pulled her out. Familiar eyes glinted at her from the darkness.

“Come on now, let’s save Rinda and Remus,” whispered Istavan. Then, tugging Suni along behind him, he made his way downhill from boulder to boulder.

The rocky area where the Sem had made their stand was illuminated now by a mass of torches that was drawing nearer along the path the wildlings had taken. The battle was clearly visible now; the Sem were fighting a desperate fight as one by one they were surrounded and killed. The stones resounded with their frantic growling, and the smell of blood filled the air as though it had leaked there from the oasis. It would only be a matter of time until all the Sem were slaughtered.