‘That’s a practical sort of approach,’ Narasan replied, his sense of overwhelming grief and shame fading. He stood up. ‘It looks like my holiday’s over,’ he said. ‘It was sort of nice to sit around doing nothing, but it’ll be good to get back into harness again.’
The notion of undertaking a war somewhere beyond the boundaries of the Empire disturbed several of Narasan’s officers quite noticeably, but Narasan himself welcomed the idea. The Empire contained too many painful memories, and he was more than ready to go abroad.
Since the army would be going north, the port of Castano was the logical point of departure, and after Veltan had left, Narasan decided that his best course of action would be to send Gunda, whose family had originated there, to that port to hire the fleet of ships the army would need to carry them to Veltan’s homeland.
A few days after Narasan’s force reached Castano, Veltan came sailing into the harbor in a rickety little fishing sloop and stunned Narasan by presenting him with ten blocks of pure gold. Narasan had never seen gold in that form before, but he was forced to admit that it was very pretty.
Veltan seemed to be very impatient, and he finally decided that the two of them should sail north toward the Land of Dhrall in his sloop so that Narasan and a Maag pirate by the name of Sorgan Hook-Beak could work out the strategy for their combined campaign in the Domain of Veltan’s sister. Narasan had some doubts about the wisdom of that notion. He’d heard about the pirates of the Land of Maag, but he’d never actually met one. The term ‘howling barbarians’ had come up quite frequently in the descriptions of them he’d heard, and the terms ‘barbarians’ and ‘strategy’ seemed to Narasan to clash just a bit.
There was a large fleet of narrow ships in the harbor of Lattash, and Narasan immediately saw the advantage the Maags would have in any encounter with the broad-beamed Trogite vessels. Maag ships were obviously built for speed, not for capacity.
After Veltan beached his sloop, he led Narasan toward a dome-shaped hill to the south of the village. They went on through a crudely constructed shed past a fair number of burly Maags who were pounding on pieces of red-hot iron and then joined some leather-clad natives at the mouth of what appeared to be the entrance to a cave.
They entered a long passageway that finally opened out into a large chamber where a small fire was burning in a pit near the center, most probably to provide light. Then Veltan introduced him to his sister Zelana, who was certainly the most beautiful woman Narasan had ever seen, and then to a pretty little girl Narasan presumed to be Lady Zelana’s daughter.
There were other people in the cave, but Narasan was primarily interested in meeting the Maag called Hook-Beak.
‘He should be here soon, Commander Narasan,’ Lady Zelana assured him.
Then a very small Maag called Rabbit came out of the passageway leading a hulking fellow with a bent nose. Narasan immediately saw how the man had come by the name ‘Hook-Beak’.
Veltan introduced them and, somewhat to Narasan’s surprise, Hook-Beak candidly admitted that he’d previously made his living as a pirate. That open admission elevated the Maag in Narasan’s estimation. Strange though it seemed, evidently this fellow had a sense of honor. It was quite possible that they’d get along well together.
‘What an unnatural sort of thing,’ Narasan murmured to himself.
Narasan and Sorgan spent a great deal of time with Veltan’s sketchy map of the ravine leading down to the village of Lattash, but when they’d shown it to the comical native Red-Beard, he’d dismissed it as worthless because of its lack of detail. Then the small Maag called Rabbit suggested a sculptured map rather than a flat drawing. Narasan was stunned by the sheer genius of that notion, and he rather painfully realized that if he’d been in possession of such a map during the disastrous campaign in the southern Empire, his nephew Astal might still be alive.
As they came to know each other better, Narasan and Hook-Beak frequently wandered away from the supposed purpose of their daily meetings in Lady Zelana’s cave to share reminiscences of past wars. Narasan had observed over his years in the army that ‘war stories’ tended to bring men closer together, and given the current situation, these relaxed exchanges could be even more important than discussions of strategy. Although it seemed most unnatural, he found that he was growing to like this uncivilized pirate.
The weather cleared a few days later, and about mid-afternoon the fleet of ships that were carrying Narasan’s advance force sailed into the harbor. Narasan went on down to the beach to speak with his men.
There was a certain wariness on both sides when Narasan introduced his officers to the Maags, and Sorgan rather wisely suggested that it might be better if their forces were separated by the river when they began their march up the ravine after the annual flood had subsided.
Then on a calm and cloudy day Lady Zelana summoned them to her cave to give them certain information about the enemies they’d be facing during the upcoming war. Longbow introduced them to an elderly native called One-Who-Heals, who immediately descended into the world of absurdity and superstition, describing their enemies as creatures who were an impossible mixture of insects, reptiles, and humans. Narasan managed to keep his composure enough to suppress an urge to laugh out loud, but he was more than a little startled when Veltan confirmed the old native’s ridiculous assertions.
Then the archer Longbow described a process whereby he’d been able to extract venom from dead enemies and then use it against their living counterparts. Sorgan found that to be amusing for some reason Narasan couldn’t quite understand. Sorgan appeared to have a rather warped sense of humor.
Then, even as the natives had predicted, a very warm wind swept in from the west, and not long thereafter, a solid wall of water burst out of the mouth of the ravine. Narasan hadn’t really expected a flood of such magnitude, and he was stunned by the sheer volume of water rushing down to the bay.
The Trogites and Maags remained on board their ships waiting for the flood to subside, but Narasan did go ashore once to take a closer look at one of the drowned enemies. As it chanced to happen, the old shaman One-Who-Heals was on the berm that stood between the river and the village, and he pointed out the peculiarities of a drowned enemy. It wasn’t much bigger than a half-grown child, and it was garbed in something resembling a hooded cloak woven from some sort of grey fabric. Then the old native pried the creature’s mouth open with a stick to show Narasan its fangs. It was obvious that the long fangs were not the teeth of a human. The spines along the outside of the creature’s forearms were also very unusual.