Gatik smiled. “Good. Gondabar is getting on in years, and from what I’ve heard Dolbarar is very ill. Soon there’ll be a generational change in leadership. I want to be at the head of those under consideration for the new posts.” He spoke with total confidence, as if it were unthinkable for him not to be chosen.
“My lord will make an excellent leader,” Lasgol assured him. He was impressed by the avidness in Gatik’s eyes and voice. Suddenly he had a better understanding of who this man really was and what his goals were. Lasgol had always seen him as a figure in the service of the King, of the East, and although this was so, it was now absolutely clear that Gatik was acting in his own interest, not the King’s. He wanted Gondabar’s post, and Lasgol felt that stopping him would be very difficult. On the other hand, there was no reason to oppose his political career. He might not be the best candidate for the post, since he gave the impression that he would put his own personal benefit before that of the corps, but apart from that, there was no real reason to oppose him. Nor did Lasgol know who his rivals would be for the position.
Whatever the case, this was something for the future. What he certainly intended to do was tell Egil about all this, because his friend would be very interested to know about it.
“Then I can count on the support of Dakon’s son, a Ranger with a double specialty?”
“Of course, my lord,” Lasgol said untruthfully, hoping he would not notice.
“This conversation must remain between us,” Gatik said gravely. “I have rivals among the Rangers who seek to reach the top before I do. I don’t want them to know my intentions.”
“Not a word will pass my lips.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear.”
At the end of the pass, they emerged into the open. Enker and Misten had secured the perimeter and were waiting five hundred paces to either side of the way out of the rocky gorge. They were watching very attentively.
Lasgol sighed. They were now on the other side of the great mountains. He stood up on Trotter’s stirrups, and in the distance he could make out the Frozen Territories.
The Wild Ones and the Specter were waiting for them there.
And with them, death.
Chapter 14
Lasgol stayed behind with the excuse of tracking the rearguard to make sure they were not being followed as the army made its way on toward the Frozen Territories. What he was really doing was making sure that Camu had crossed the pass safely and was managing to follow them.
Camu, everything all right? he messaged, hoping for a reply. Ona, beside him, shifted restlessly.
There was no answer. He decided not to worry, since Camu might still be too far away for the message to reach him.
Ona moaned. She was now pacing back and forth, visibly uneasy. They waited for some time, and Lasgol tried again.
Everything all right, came the message.
Lasgol gave a gasp of relief. Camu became visible a hundred paces away, approaching calmly. Ona gave a leap of joy and ran to greet him.
For a moment I was starting to worry.
Not worry.
You’re all right, then?
Very well.
Camu came to him after he and Ona had rubbed against one another and licked one another’s heads. Lasgol too stroked his crested head, and his friend showed his gratitude by wagging his long tail.
I far away.
Very well done. I’m very happy when you do as I say.
I always do.
Yeah … yeah … Now you’re going to have to be even more careful. We’re approaching danger.
I careful.
Follow me a little closer now, but stay away from the Magi in case they can detect you.
Not detect.
Good. Be careful, and if you need me, communicate with me at once.
Camu put his forelegs on Lasgol’s chest and licked his face with his blue tongue. Lasgol rubbed his head and back and hugged him in return, and they said goodbye. Ona moaned at having to leave her brother. Lasgol rejoined the head of the formation and told his comrades that he had seen nothing suspicious in the rear. Ona walked by his side at the head of the column.
They marched for a whole day, very alert to the presence of Wild Ones of the Ice or Tundra Dwellers. They met no resistance, though Lasgol found prints of two groups of Wild Ones and one of Dwellers. He reported to Commander Sven, who was at the head of the army with his Royal Guards. A little behind him was Gatik, with the Royal Rangers.
The Commander glanced back. “Gatik, I need your advice.”
The First Ranger came forward, with a brief nod to Lasgol as he passed.
“Do you think they’re war groups?” Sven asked him.
Gatik turned to Lasgol. “How many Wild Ones in each group?”
“A dozen, sir.”
“Then they’re not war groups,” Gatik said. “They’re patrols.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to fall into an ambush.”
“If they were war groups, there’d be more of them – something like a hundred.”
“Did you find a group that size?” Sven asked Lasgol.
“No, sir. But we haven’t tracked the whole area yet.”
“I don’t want to waste time, or else give them a margin of maneuvering so that they can prepare an ambush for us. Gatik, have your Rangers help in the tracking. I want all of them half a league ahead of us in an arch formation. And don’t get caught up in any skirmishes. If you find any groups of Wild Ones, come back to report.”
“Understood. I’ll pass on the order.”
For two days they
