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“The puuka.” The fabled ghosts that lived in the land of mist beyond the mountains, not real, and yet some believed in their existence. Blame the stories passed down through generations, speaking of monsters and magic, neither of which existed.
Ioan’s reply led to Lomar blustering, “That is superstitious nonsense. Most likely either a stealthy invader or a wild animal.”
“Animals that can open locked doors without leaving a trace? Animals that can sneak up on a man and kill him without a single scream escaping?” Ioan became agitated.
“Probably asleep at their posts.” A denigrating reply from Lomar, but in his defense, those sent to the garrison were the weakest of the horde. The slovenly, the poorer fighters, the disgraced. A posting to the Risead Pass was the ultimate insult to a soldier as it meant they were deemed not good enough to defend the citadel or their borders.
“Who else have you told about this?” Kormac asked.
“No one, Warlord. I rode straight and hard here to give you the news.”
“Where are the other missives Khaal entrusted with you?”
The man dug in his tunic and pulled out a parchment, rolled and bound with wax. Kormac gripped it but didn’t open it to read. First, he had to deal with the soldier.
“Lomar, have Ioan escorted to a cell. One away from the others. He is to speak to no one.”
“You’re punishing me?” The man seemed shocked.
“As if I’m going to believe your wild tale without confirmation. Lomar is right. It is implausible that an entire garrison would be wiped out without a single sign of the enemy.”
“But it’s the truth,” Ioan exclaimed.
“Then you won’t mind sojourning in a cell while I verify it.” He glanced to Lomar. “Ensure no one is allowed near him. I don’t need him spreading rumors and panicking the populace.”
“As you command, Warlord.” Lomar stepped forward to grab Ioan by the arm.
Ioan didn’t go quietly. “You have to listen to me. There is a grave danger brewing in the Pass. My great-grandmother lived her whole life in Greenhead Valley only a day’s ride from the garrison and she used to tell stories of a monster that lurked within the caves of Andeir.”
“There are no caves and stories are just that, stories.” As a young man, Kormac’s father had taken him to their eastern mountain and shown him the Pass saying, “We don’t know why the oath insists we guard Risead Pass but our ancestors must have had their reason and so we honor their wishes.”
“What if it’s true? What if that’s why the garrison is there, to protect against monsters?” Ioan shouted as Lomar dragged him away.
“Then you failed, and you know what the punishment for that is.” There was no mercy for deserters.
“And you’ll fail too,” Ioan snapped. “It’s easy for you to judge. You weren’t there.”
Kormac’s lips pinched at the insult. Lomar took it even worse. He knocked the pommel of his sword against Ioan’s temple and the man collapsed.
“Mouthy coward,” the warlord’s second muttered.
“All the more reason to keep him separate. Make sure you tell no one,” Kormac advised unnecessarily.
“No shit,” Lomar muttered. “Imagine thinking ghosts and monsters are real.”
“They aren’t, but I’ll still want you to head out and make sense of the situation.”
“Aye, Warlord. I’ll leave for the garrison in the morning.”
“Excellent.”
Lomar left with a limp Ioan slung over his shoulder. Once the door shut, the odd sensation in his arms disappeared. Kormac still pulled up his sleeve but there was nothing to see. Just the dull metal of his bracers, intricate in appearance, inherited from the last warlord, their version of a crown.
He pushed the fabric back over his arms before opening the first missive Khaal supposedly meant to send. It held a brief recap of what Ioan told him.
Warlord. This is Lieutenant Khaal of Risead Pass informing you we’ve lost some soldiers in the line of duty. I’ve included the names so you can compensate the families. Most likely a maakath is to blame. They’ve been nosing around the garrison of late instead of staying in the mountains. I’ve assembled a hunting team. Expect some skins if successful.
Maakath fur made great winter cloaks.
