“You’re back, good,” Janis said, looking up and crossing the room to join them.
“What’s happened?”
“Message from Ishkabur,” Janis muttered. “The vertaga are getting bolder. Thirty stormed the docks early in the morning. Burned a half-dozen ships, slaughtered the crews, took everything they could carry, then retreated with no casualties.”
“Damn,” Ondus muttered. “They are getting more aggressive.”
“Lord Horam has locked down the city and sent envoys to the king. He has asked us to send a rider as well, in case his man doesn’t make it.”
“What about the docks? They’re not protected by the walls are they?”
“No,” Janis agreed. “All merchant ships have been evacuated. Only warships remain, and those are fully manned and ready for battle. For all intents and purposes, Ishkabur is under siege.”
“By thirty vertaga?” Ondus asked.
“Yes,” Janis confirmed.
“Hold on,” Khollo said, looking at the map on the table. “Where was the group you encountered?”
Janis and Ondus exchanged a look. “We left them halfway between here and the Fells,” Janis said, stabbing a finger at the center of the Renlor Basin.
“And that was how long ago?”
“A week, maybe,” Ondus replied curtly.
Khollo nodded. “And then there was an attack at Ishkabur . . . when?”
“The message is dated two days ago,” Janis replied, glancing at the tightly rolled parchment in his hand.
“Two days ago,” Khollo murmured, tracing a path south through the Fells. “Even if they attack immediately that leaves five days to cover all this distance. Probable? No. Possible . . . I don’t know much about vertaga,” Khollo said, raising his voice so that the others could clearly hear. “But I doubt that they went so far in five days. There are certainly multiple groups out there.”
“As we suspected,” Janis agreed. But how many?”
Khollo tapped the map thoughtfully. “The first attack, on the trade caravan. Did the vertaga bear any symbols to speak of? A crest or coat of arms?”
Janis shook his head. “The message didn’t say. I’ll send an inquiry to Lord Horam.”
“The ones after us did!” Ondus said excitedly. “On their shields, remember Janis!”
“The three-peaked helm,” Janis said, thinking. “Yes, I remember seeing that now.”
“Would someone care to draw it so I can be included as well?” Khollo asked, a little testily.
Ondus snatched a writing stick and parchment, bending over the table. “There,” he said after a moment’s hurried scribbling. “That’s close enough to what we saw.”
Khollo studied the drawing critically. A thick horizontal line was the center of the image. Above, three slanted lines converged on each other while below two lines ran nearly straight down. A shorter line, rather like the nosepiece of an elaborate helm, jutted down between the two.
“Curious,” he muttered, studying the drawing. “And the center line on top is angled as well? Not vertical?”
“Unless every vertaga was such a bad artist that they messed up their own symbol on every shield, yes,” Ondus replied.
“But then again, who ever said such beasts had any concept of art?” Janis snorted contemptuously. “I don’t remember seeing this symbol, but surely it was used in the first war. I suppose I was more interested in killing vertaga at the time than I was in reading their shields.”
Khollo pushed back from the table. “We need to know more,” he decided. “There are too many unknowns for what’s at stake here.”
“But we can’t send anyone else into the Fells,” Ondus said warningly. “They would not come back.”
“So we wait for another attack?” Janis demanded. “People are dying, Ondus!”
“I’m well aware,” Ondus growled. “But there is nothing we can do right now. We don’t have the men or the support from the rest of the kingdom that we need.” He paused. “We can get more support though. If not from the king, then from the nearest lords.”
“Narne and Ardia are closest,” Khollo said quickly.
“Narne can reinforce Ishkabur,” Ondus decided. “Send ships down the coast. Maybe we can get patrols from Ardia to help protect the Basin. With Ishkabur on the defensive, the villages are the next logical target.”
Khollo got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as Ondus said this, thinking of the weak, frail villagers in their flimsy homes of wood, mud, and thatch. “They’ll be slaughtered,” he observed, pounding a fist against the table in frustration.
“We do not have the means to protect them,” Ondus said sadly. “I could ride to the East Bank, put them on the alert. It’s time this ridiculous rivalry was ended and we focused on the real enemy.”
“Oh, Sermas will love that,” Khollo muttered.
“Janis, we must send riders to Ardia and Narne,” Ondus continued. “If we can get a few patrols from each we may secure the Basin. Janis?”
Khollo looked up. The Lord of the West Bank was standing at one of the huge windows that ringed the council room, looking south.
“So it begins, once more,” he murmured. “And here I am again, the first and last defense.”
Khollo and Ondus exchanged a look. Go, Ondus mouthed, jerking his head at Janis.
Khollo headed for the door. “I’ll send some food up and get started on those messages,” he called over his shoulder.
Ondus gave him a short nod. As the door swung closed behind Khollo, he saw the stocky warrior moving towards Janis slowly, rest a hand on his shoulder.
Khollo pushed the image aside. Janis’ grief, and his past, is none of my business. Let Ondus handle it.
The kitchens were quiet, the midday meal having come and gone, but Dari immediately fixed a platter for Khollo and had food sent up to the fortress commanders when he explained the situation. Khollo sat alone during his meal, then wandered out into the snow-covered landscape of the fortress.
The sun was out, the sky a cloudless, pale blue. The snow sparkled below, not
