Treason in the north, p.8
Treason in the North, page 8
part #4 of Path of the Ranger Series
“Right, you can come in.”
Lasgol did not know the Ranger who had granted them passage, nor had he ever seen him at the Camp before. He would have remembered him, since one remarkable feature made him unmistakable: his skin was red.
“That’s a Masig of the Prairies,” Egil whispered to Lasgol excitedly as they moved away.
“Now that really is weird,” Viggo said. He was looking back to make sure he was not hallucinating.
Lasgol too glanced back over his shoulder and could confirm that this wiry man with an aquiline nose, small black eyes and long jet-black hair was certainly a Masig.
“Why’s it so strange?” he asked.
“Because Norghanians and Masig hate each other to death,” Egil pointed out.
“Or rather,” Viggo added, “the Masig hate us to death because of the atrocities we’ve committed against them,”
Lasgol tried to remember what he knew of them. He recalled his father telling him that the Masig were the People of the Steppes, nomadic hunters scattered across hundreds of small tribes that dominated the prairies. They were ferocious fighters and great horsemen. They tamed wild pinto horses and used them for hunting and war. It was true that the Norghanians considered them a semi-wild people, illiterate and aggressive. Savages. Lasgol had seen one or two Masig before being taken to Count Malason’s castle in chains as prisoners.
“The way we’ve treated them for hundreds of years is a disgrace,” Egil said, sounding embarrassed. “They’re our closest neighbors to the southeast, and we treat them like rabid wild animals.”
“You mean like we treat the Peoples of the Frozen Continent,” Viggo insisted.
Egil bowed his head in shame. “Yes, or even worse. Often I’m ashamed of being Norghanian.”
“What have we done to them?” Lasgol asked, and regretted the question as soon as he had asked it.
“Pillage, plunder, massacres, torture, rape, and other delights,” said Viggo.
“I can’t believe it.”
“Remember, Norghana’s one of the most powerful kingdoms of the continent, and you don’t get there without bloodshed.”
“That’s horrible.”
“It’s life,” said Viggo. “The strong beat the weak. It’s always been like that.”
“Well, it shouldn’t be!” Lasgol said furiously.
“That’s why we’re here,” Egil said, “to prevent it as far as possible.”
“I doubt very much whether we could break a tradition that’s hundreds of years old. The Norghanians have always attacked the weaker tribes and lived off plunder. It’s part of our culture. Why do you think we have such fast assault ships? Precisely for that, for raids on lands belonging to weaker tribes and kingdoms.”
“To me that way of life’s abominable.”
“Well, it’s the Norghanian way of life. That’s why the other kingdoms fear us, and especially the semi-wild tribes like the Peoples of the Ice, the Masig, Usik and others.”
“New blood, new ideals,” Egil said, looking at his partners. “We’ll begin the change. The Norghanians will reject that way of life and become respected for their virtues.”
Viggo laughed. “You’re a naïve goody-two-shoes. We Norghanians have no other virtue beyond being a race of giant brutes who for hundreds of years have done nothing but loot and plunder.”
“I think we’re more than that.”
“You’ll have to show me, because I can’t see anything else.”
Lasgol sighed. He knew Viggo was right, even though it was hard to admit. He remembered that in Skad stories were told of the feats of those captains who plundered the north coast, and the ones who went south down the great rivers as far as the prairies... the Masig lands. He felt downhearted. To realize that his people, the Norghanians, were not as glorious as they ought to be was not easy to swallow. But after seeing what they were doing to the Peoples of the Ice there could be no doubt. It was easy for him to believe that they were doing the same to the Masig. It was deeply depressing to find out that the Norghanians were just brutes and bullies who loved war, plunder and pillage.
“Let’s not give up hope,” Egil said. “There are much worse kingdoms: the Noceans, the people of the desert, for instance. The brutalities they’re capable of are well known and they have a dreadful reputation. We need to keep our chins up. We’re the People of the Snow, strong warriors, tall, blond and pale like our land, who wield axes and whom nobody can defeat in the battlefield. The best infantry in the continent. We must be proud. Not all of us behave like bandits.”
Egil’s words lightened Lasgol’s spirits a little.
“Sure,” Viggo said. “Wait till you’re sent on a pillaging mission on the King’s orders.”
“I’ll refuse to go.”
“Then you’ll hang.”
Lasgol looked round the center of the camp, trying to locate the rest of his friends. One in particular... but he could not see any of them. Rangers and pupils of all four years were going from one end to the other, carrying out their routine tasks. They all looked very busy.
Viggo was standing beside him, watching what went on with suspicious eyes. “Everything’s very messy,” he commented.
“It must be because of the war,” Egil said. He indicated several Rangers who were carrying wicker baskets containing hundreds of arrows.
And at last Lasgol saw the one person he longed to see.
The Captain of the Owls.
Astrid.
Chapter 9
Lasgol took a step toward Astrid. His heart began to beat violently and his stomach lurched. He could not take his eyes off her, and found himself longing to kiss her. He started to walk towards her; she had not noticed him and was chatting with one of her teammates. He forgot where he was and who he was with, so that he left Egil and Viggo behind and went toward Astrid like a moth seeking the light.
“Lasgol!” cried a powerful voice.
Before he could even realize who was calling his name, someone lifted him off the ground in a powerful bear-hug.
Someone huge.
Gerd.
Lasgol found himself in the air, unable to breathe.
“It’s great to see you!” Gerd said. He was spinning around without allowing Lasgol to put his feet back on the ground. The giant was smiling from ear to ear, and joy was obvious on his face.
Lasgol had to laugh. “Let me down before you break my back!”
Gerd laughed too and gave another twirl without letting go of him.
“In the end that big slob is going to get dizzy and both of them’ll end up on the ground,” said Viggo.
“Hey, pal! How glad I am to see you!
Viggo clapped his hands to his face. “Don’t even come anywhere near me!”
Too late. The giant caught him in another huge bear-hug and lifted him off the ground. He began to spin, with Viggo protesting and launching a stream of curses. He looked like a talking puppet in the arms of a giant.
Egil watched the scene, grinning. Knowing what was in store for him once Gerd realized he was there too, he was trying to avoid being noticed.
Lasgol filled his lungs with air and recovered from his friend’s affectionate embrace.
“Put me down at once, you brainless giant!” Viggo yelled. He was still trapped in the bear-hug.
Gerd took one more spin, became dizzy and had to drop him before they both fell over.
“What a half-witted oversized lump he is!” Viggo moaned while he regained his balance.
Gerd put his hands to his head while he did the same. A moment later he saw Egil, yelled his name and lunged to hug him.
Egil, who knew what was coming, closed his eyes and smiled. Gerd gave him a bear-hug and lifted him off the ground, but this time did not spin.
“I’ve missed you so much!” he shouted.
“We’ve missed you too,” Egil said.
“But it’s only been a few weeks,” Viggo said.
“It seemed like a whole season to me,” Gerd said.
Lasgol was happy to see old Gerd again. The giant always made him feel happy.
“Where are the girls?” he asked.
“Ingrid and Nilsa are at the Quartermaster’s depot.” Gerd’s face changed and became somber. “The moment we arrived we were all put to work. It seems a great battle’s on its way, or so say the rumors in the Camp, and all the Rangers and pupils are working to help with the war effort.”
“I see Dolbarar’s got you all very busy,” Egil said. He was looking around at the constant bustle of weapons and supplies.
“How long ago did you arrive?” Lasgol asked Gerd.
“Three days ago, and the girls, two. You’re late, as always.” There was an enormous smile on his face.
“We should’ve delayed a few more days,” Viggo said making a face. “They’re going to make us work like slaves...”
“But you love to cooperate!” Egil said with heavy irony
“Sure, there’s nothing I’d like more – apart from all the drilling we’ll have to endure– than loading crates and sacks for the good of the army.”
“And the Rangers,” Gerd noted.
“Well, let’s see if I can manage to get out of it...”
Suddenly a voice giving orders sounded behind Viggo.
“Look lively! You all look like a bunch of weaklings who’ve never worked a day in their lives!”
“I recognize that voice!” Viggo said without turning round.
“It’s Master Instructor Oden,” Egil said.
Viggo frowned. “Tell me he’s not coming for us.”
Oden barked out several orders at a Second-Year group, then headed for the stables.
“It seems we’re free for the moment,” Egil said.
Viggo snorted with relief. “We’d better get out of here before he sees us and sends us to load carts.”
“I don’t know why they say you never have any good ideas,” Egil said with a smile.
“Shut up, book-head, and let’s go.”
They headed toward the Fourth-Year cabins, which were the furthest from the center of the Camp, in the middle of a dense forest north of the Command House.
Lasgol looked around for Astrid, but could not find her. She must have gone to carry out some task Oden had ordered.
There were a few fellow-pupils outside the cabins, and they exchanged greetings. The badge of the Snow Panthers was hanging on the door of one of the cabins. When they went in they saw that these cabins were bigger and more comfortable than in previous years, as if they were being given a reward for reaching the final year of instruction.
“Oh, I really like this shack,” Viggo said. He hurried to lie down on one of the bunks.
Gerd was about to protest that it was the one he wanted himself, but a glower from Viggo clearly indicated that he was not prepared to give it up.
“This year I fancied sleeping in the upper bunk.”
“Yeah, so it caves in with your colossal weight and I get squashed to death by your great body.”
“The bunk won’t give. I’ve already slept in it.”
“Yeah, and you expect me to trust you? Besides it’s very soft, I love it.” Viggo made himself as comfortable as he could.
Gerd snorted in disgust.
Lasgol patted his shoulder encouragingly. He and Egil organized their bunks with no problem, as they always did.
Gerd closed the door at Lasgol’s suggestion, and he let Camu out of the travelling satchel on his back. The creature leapt on the beds at once and began to play, giving a series of small, happy shrieks. When he saw Gerd he hurled himself on him.
The big guy had no time to react. He found Camu clasped to his chest. “Oh, no!”
Camu climbed up his massive torso and licked his cheek.
Gerd, wide-eyed, did not know whether to be frightened or glad, or both. So he decided on both. The creature still awoke an irrational fear in him, since it was magical; on the other hand, after spending three years running away from him he had become used to him and knew he would not harm him, that he only wanted to play. He tried, forced himself to ignore his fear and stroked Camu.
“Good Camu,” he said.
The little creature licked his hand and let out a joyful shriek.
Lasgol noticed the effort Gerd had made to control his irrational fear. He could tell from his face. One instant he was pale as a ghost and his eyes seemed about to pop out in that moment of panic. Then his eyes half-closed and he frowned; he was fighting his fear, he wanted to control it. And finally the color came back to his face, his eyes and forehead returned to their normal state. He had conquered his fear. Lasgol was glad for the big guy. In those earlier years he had not succeeded in conquering it and had panicked, fleeing from Camu like an elephant from a mouse that was chasing him all over the room. What he had managed seemed a mere trifle, but in fact it was nothing of the sort, because the fear Camu awoke in him was the same fear he showed in many other situations. Gerd was overcoming some of his fears, and that was very significant and something to celebrate. Camu was having a very positive effect on him.
The big guy was patting the little creature. “He’s gotten huge.”
Lasgol nodded. “Yeah, it looks as though he’s beginning to grow quite a bit more.”
“And his weight is now decidedly substantial,” Egil said as he came over to pet him too.
Camu was in seventh heaven with their attentions.
Suddenly there came a knock at the door. Gerd hastened to hide Camu, and they waited for him to vanish into a corner. The little creature knew he had to hide whenever someone knocked at the door or opened it. There was no need to tell him.
“Come in,” Lasgol called.
The door opened and Ingrid appeared.
“Hey, Panthers! Fourth year!” the Captain said with a smile in her usually serious face.
“I’m delighted to see you, Captain,” Lasgol said and they hugged.
“Me too, hero.”
They both smiled. Ingrid was more mature, more womanly. Or at least, that was how it seemed to Lasgol.
“As much a leader as ever,” Egil said, and gave her a hug.
Nilsa ran in after Ingrid, tripped and pulled Viggo down with her.
“Of all the clodhoppers in Norghana!” he grumbled from the floor.
“Sorry... it’s the excitement.” She stood up and fell on Lasgol and Egil, who were instantly enfolded in a warm embrace.
Gerd went to the door and closed it. “Come on, group hug,” he said.
“No, no gushy stuff, I refuse,” Viggo protested.
“Come on, don’t be like that.”
Viggo grumbled a little, but then he joined Gerd who was already spreading his arms wide.
The six partners joined in a group hug. For a moment they all felt very well, happy even, with smiling faces and jubilant souls. Inevitably it was Viggo who broke up the group.
“That’s enough. All this gush makes me want to puke.”
“Shut up, blockhead,” Ingrid said.
“You shut up, Miss Bossy-Boots.”
“You’re going to swallow my fist.”
“That’ll be if you catch me, which you won’t because I’m faster than you.”
Nilsa laughed. “Looks as though everything’s still just the same.”
Camu made himself visible suddenly and jumped at Gerd to keep playing. Nilsa was so startled that she fell on her butt.
Gerd covered his mouth with his hands to muffle a guffaw.
Lasgol watched the scene, so familiar, so normal, and felt happy to be there with his friends, to be sharing those moments with them. He could not help smiling from ear to ear.
“You’re the best,” he said.
“Of course we are,” Ingrid said. “We’re the Snow Panthers!”
“Thanks, Lasgol,” Nilsa said as he helped her up.
“See? He’s got all sensitive,” said Viggo.
“I think you’re the best too, and I’m happy we’re all back,” said Gerd.
“We’re all a little sensitive because of the war,” Egil said.
Ingrid nodded. “Yeah, this is going to be a very interesting final year.”
“And a difficult one,” Nilsa said as she rubbed her backside.
“Not just difficult, but pretty intense and dangerous,” said Viggo.
“Well, the last three years haven’t been exactly easy,” Gerd commented.
“Sure but this one loops the loop,” Viggo went on. “We have to graduate as Rangers, and the fourth year is the most difficult. And on top of that, we’re in the middle of a war, and we’re going to find ourselves in the thick of it, that’s for sure. And just to add a bit more excitement to it all, we’re on the wrong side, Uthar’s. Who, in case you’ve forgotten, is a shifter who wants to conquer half Tremia and kill anyone who gets in his way, among them Egil, who he already tried to hang last year. And if it’s not Uthar it might be Darthor and his Wild of the Ice, because if we’re not careful they’ll be wanting to kill us too for being on Uthar’s side.”
There was a moment’s silence.
“When you put like that...” Ingrid said, sounding troubled.
Nilsa was biting her nails and looking at Gerd, who by now was pale as a ghost.
Egil made sure the door was firmly closed. “You’ve forgotten that Lasgol and I support the West...”
“And so we can add high treason to the list of complications,” Viggo said in a voice of despair.
Lasgol said nothing. It was going to be a very complicated year. They were risking their lives in more than one way.
Chapter 10
Lasgol was unable to sleep that first night at the Camp. He got up from his bunk and went out to breathe the fresh winter air and clear his mind. Viggo’s words had affected him, and he could not stop turning them over in his mind. The situation he found himself in was so dangerous that he could see no possible way out.
He inhaled the icy air, and the cold reached his brain. He shook his head. He enjoyed that feeling. It smelt of winter, of the north, of Norghana. He felt a little better. The most important thing at the moment was to start their training and make sure the Rangers, or the King, did not find out that they were working for Darthor and the Western League. If he could manage that, they would survive. Or at least, so he hoped. Then there was the great problem of the war. Viggo was right: one way or another, they would be involved in it. He thought about his mother and shivered.
