The Savage Mountains

III

Vahk Vratnyuhn watched his runty mountain pony crop at the few spears of dead grass poking through the snow, and shivered, his teeth chattering. But it was neither the biting cold nor the bitter wind which had so set Dehrehbeh Vahk, a mountain warrior born and inured to cold, to trembling. No, it was the proximity to the sinister Valley of the Maidens.

Looking back to the fire, around which his score of warriors were quietly finishing their meal of venison and mush, Vahk could feel their fear, as well. Only their inborn loyalty to him, their hereditary dehrehbeh, had kept them camped three months in this place of waking-sleeping dread; just as only his own unquestioning obedience to the will of the great chief, the nahkhahrah, had sent him and them as escort to the Woman-of-Powers, who had entered the Pass of the Maidens moon-before-last, bidding them await her return.

Vahk and his warriors were not men easily frightened. Weak or craven Ahrmehnee children did not survive to adulthood, and these were picked fighters, the very cream of the Vratnyuhn tribe; not a one but had trophies racked in the House of Skulls. As for Vahk himself, he had, when a herdboy of less than one hundred seventy moons, slain a prowling bear-sow, first driving her off the goat she had slain, then receiving her ferocious charge on his spear; firm, he had held, heedless of the claws which savaged arms and shoulders and face, until the wide blade found and burst her fierce heart. Too, he had taken men’s heads, many heads, his first when he was but something less than two hundred moons.

The Ahrmehnee tribes were much feared by all their neighbors, mountaineer and lowlander alike, and with good and sufficient cause. They had dwelt in the mountain valleys—and, formerly, in the foothills, as well—since the World Death ended the Time of the Gods, were themselves the descendants of gods. The Ehleenee, strive as they might for near six thousand moons, had come away well bloodied, leaving behind many heads, on each occasion they had tried to lessen the constant menace of Ahrmehnee raids. Only a Confederation army of more than one hundred thousand men had finally driven them from their foothills, and then they had fled only because there were too few warriors left to effectively fight in open country.

Ten times thirteen moons later, the surviving elder warriors led the next generation of black-haired, hook-nosed young headhunters in an attempt to reclaim their stolen foothills; but they met their match for reckless courage and fierce bloodthirstiness in the hard-fighting horse archers of Clans Baikuh, Vawn and Skaht. Even so, they might have conquered through sheer weight of numbers, had not the Undying Devil of the Confederation returned and, with another huge army, crushed them at the Battle of Bloody Ford.

So few men had come back to the mountains after that defeat that nearly thirty times thirteen moons had elapsed ere the tribes had regained near to their former strength. And by then, the stahn was being severely pressed from both west and northwest by numerous, though primitive, non-Ahrmehnee peoples.

The Thirteen Tribes had stopped the newcomers, of course, but not decisively. The Muhkohee, as they were called after the name of one of their principal tribes, had settled on the fringes of Ahrmehnee lands, and the fight was now of many hundreds of moons duration, each new generation blooding itself on the ancient foe, race raiding race for goats and food in hard winters, for women and heads anytime. Quarter was neither asked nor given, the few warriors taken alive were invariably tortured to death … very, very slowly, sight and smell and sound of their agonies being always most pleasing to their captors.

Naturally, the Ahrmehnee still raided their former lands, bringing back fat cattle and sheep, fine, tall horses, choice, high-spirited women, heads and much rare booty. But these raids were small, hit-and-run affairs, and the nahkhahrah always forbade any tribe’s raiders to penetrate far into the border duchies. For another decimation like Bloody Ford would, today, spell the certain extirpation of the entire Ahrmehnee stahn under the ravening spears and knives of the barbaric Muhkohee: nought but justified fear of the thousands of grim warriors the Thirteen Tribes could muster held their enemies in any sort of check.

No, Ahrmehnee warriors feared neither man nor beast … but they, one and all, feared the Maidens unashamedly… and no one of them could say why.

Vahk and his race knew very little about the Maidens, save that, like the Ahrmehnee themselves, they worshiped the Lady Moon, wore strange and antique-looking armor, were stark warriors and paid for such items as their delegations came to Ahrmehnee villages to buy in silver and gold coins of unusual uniformity which bore likenesses of men and women and beasts as well as legends which not even the wisest Ahrmehnee elders could decipher.

Their valley was very large, virtually inaccessible and well guarded, having but a single known entry. It was before the yawning, black mouth of this cavern that Vahk’s tribesmen now were encamped. The mountains surrounding the Valley of the Maidens presented an almost uniform facade of weathered rock and deep, dusty runnels. Such terrain was difficult for goats or men, impossible for ponies, but even so, the crests of the high ridges connecting the mountains showed the viewer an unbroken stretch of rough-dressed stone walls, crenellated and set with towers, squatting amid the dark evergreens.

The old tales said that Maidens had been inhabiting the valley when the ancestors of the Thirteen Tribes first came to the hills and mountains. They, like the Ahrmehnee, were God-spawned. And these two sacred races had lived with peace between them for moons beyond reckoning.

But for all their similarities of worship, their shared glorious ancestry, their relatively friendly relations and the fact that the Ahrmehnee were renowned far and wide for their lustiness and those Maidens who ventured forth from their hold were right often young, comely and toothsome—albeit a mite on the muscular side with breasts invariably concealed beneath armor—there never had been intermarriage or even casual fraternization. In the course of the years, hot-headed or drunken Ahrmehnee had, on occasion, sought to seduce or force one of the Maidens; the would-be seducers had met with cold rebuff, the rapists with quick and bloody death. It was supposed that men did dwell in that mysterious Valley, for the Maidens were not Undying—they aged like all living creatures and, after a while, came no more to buy goods in the villages, their places being taken by other, younger Maidens. But no one could say for sure, since no one had ever seen a man of the Maidens’ race, nor managed ever to even glimpse of what lay beyond dark entry cavern and wall-crowned summits. The nahkhahrah had always strictly forbidden Ahrmehnee to trespass up the bare, rocky slopes, and those few who had seen fit to disobey had never been seen again.

The scattering of villages near to the Valley sometimes witnessed weird and disturbing phenomena-sustained and awful rumblings from within the hold, accompanied by roiling layers of thick smoke by day and unearthly radiances by night; and, for many days after, the cataract which fell from those heights and the mountain river it fed would be oddly hued and fetid to both nose and taste. And the phenomena and mysteries had given rise to a plethora of terrible tales. Some were believed, some half-believed, most used only to frighten naughty children. But told and retold over the centuries, they had given rise to the fears and dreads which had made these last three moons so unpleasant for Vahk and his fighters. Like most Ahrmehnee, they normally avoided coming within a mile of the mouth of the cavern, for all that the approach was gently graded and wide enough for two horsemen abreast.

Nor, reflected Vahk, would they now be within forty miles of this place, had it not been for the comings of the People-of-Powers. The first snows were buried under their successors and the surplus cattle were being slaughtered for salting, when the two men and the woman rode into the village of the nahkhahrah, in company with old Dehrehbeh Hahgohn Kohehnyuhn, who was come with his party for the Council of the Kehv Moon.

In the Council House, lit by fat-lamps made from skulls, the pock-faced, white-haired Hahgohn, whose tribe occupied the southernmost of the lands held by Ahrmehnee, arose and told the nahkhahrah and the other eleven dehrehbehee of how the three strangers had been brought to him by a village headman, of how they all three spoke to him in fluent—if somewhat archaic—Hahyahs, and told of having been sent by Moon to aid Moon’s faithful people in regaining their ancient lands.

“And my father, my brothers,” the eldest of the dehbehrehee had concluded, “I am convinced that they speak truly, for they surely are wondrous in their ways, commanding strange devices of thunder and lightning which can slay at two and three bowshots’ distance and sharing ownership of a pair of chests—each no bigger than a common travel chest—which,” he lowered his voice, “contain living men!”

Of course, no one had believed old Hahgohn’s preposterous tales … not at first. But the nahkhahrah had been sufficiently titillated to first speak with the leader of the strangers, then with all three, and by the time he brought them to the Council House, he was as fervent as had been Kohehnyuhn, earlier.

Vahk paused in his musings to tuck his sodden cloak more tightly at the neck, shivering at the icy touch of the fabric on his bare throat. He shivered again, then, under his breath, promised a white buck-goat next moonbirth, if only Lady Moon would grant that the Woman-of-Powers rejoin them today … or even tomorrow.

Sahrah Sahrohyuhn (otherwise known as Erica Arenstein, D. Sc.) stepped onto the back of the kneeling man, and from that human mountingblock bestrode her fine riding mule—every bit as surefooted as the stunted mountain ponies of the Ahrmehnee, yet as big and powerful as the Maidens’ warhorses.

Once in the saddle, Sahrah/Erica was more than anxious to be upon her way back to the cold, primitive village of the nahkhahrah. For all that her mission had been crowned with greater success than expected, for all that the Maidens and their rulers had made her more than welcome, she had not been comfortable since she first entered this valley. She knew, could recognize, what its inhabitants could not.

Though cruel winter clamped the surrounding mountains and valleys in its icy teeth, flowers bloomed and grain rippled on the valley floor. Snow or sleet turned liquid as soon as it touched the ground, so that the worst winter weather became only soft mists in the Valley of the Maidens. Only the Watchers, posted on the circuit of walls high above, ever tasted of the sufferings of those who dwelt in the surrounding lands, for Maidens never quitted their comfortable hold in winter. They accepted the bounties of their goddess, appeasing Her with bloody sacrifices on those frequent occasions when She vented Her anger in fire, choking smoke and shuddering, quaking earth.

But the training and experience of Dr. Erica Arenstein could identify this paradisical-seeming valley for what it truly was, though it would have been foolish—suicidal, even—to attempt to impart this knowledge to the Maidens. It gave Sahrah/Erica the willies to awaken in the morning and see a column of smoke spiraling up from the Sacred Crescent, and the ominous rumbling which often accompanied it made her want to scream and run as far and as fast as this body could. So she was overjoyed to be leaving.

However, her months of well-concealed terror had been worthwhile. Large as it was, the valley was already crowded, and for two generations the Maidens had been forced to buy grain and other foodstuffs in order to feed the burgeoning population. Not much persuasion had been necessary to convince the rulers that the Will of the Goddess lay behind this opportunity to fight in concert with the neighboring tribes and win more land—good land, rich nonmountainous land.

Then, too, there was the Maidens’ treasure, which the Center could put to good use, once Erica and Greenberg and Dr. Diamond had perfected a scheme to get it to their advance base. But it was both bulky and heavy, and many, many pack ponies would be necessary to transport it through those hundreds of miles of mountains. And they’d need a strong force to seize and guard the tons of gold ingots and ancient coins; perhaps they could recruit from the Muhkohee tribes, once the Maidens, Ahrmehnee and Confederation forces were busily butchering each other.

At the head of the long column of mounted and armored warrior women, Sahrah/Erica rode knee to knee with the tall, handsome brahbehrnuh or warleader of the Maidens. And she thought it was too bad, in a way, that that splendid body would most likely be hacked into bloody gobbets before the spring came on the hills. It was a strong, healthy and attractive body, for which she would willingly have traded the one she now occupied.

Milo Morai had not, in something less than two centuries, built his Confederation by passively awaiting attacks. In this present world, pacifism was suicidal, if indeed, it had not always been. Which was why, immediately Vawnpolis was surrendered and regarrisoned, he set about preparing for an offensive thrust into the mountains.

They gathered within the largest chamber of the Vawnpolis Citadel—the major nobles of the archduchy, with surrogates taking the places of those thoheeksee dead or incapacitated; the strahteegoee of the Confederation units camped outside the walls, headed by Sir Ehdt, the siege-master, and High Lady Aldora; Vahroneeskos Drehkos Daiviz of Morguhn and three of his officers, all veterans of his early-summer march through the mountains.

Working from such few maps as were available, Sir Ehdt had constructed a huge sand-table model of the western borders of Vawn, with southernmost Skaht to the north and northernmost Baikuh to the south. Now, he and a couple of Confederation officers were tracing Drehkos’ route and altering the model to conform with the former rebels’ memories of the terrain through which they had fought.

And, throughout it all, Thoheeks Bili of Morguhn had sat in his place, silently staring his hatred at the gray-haired, emaciated figure of his rebellious former vassal. Only some exceedingly firm language from Milo and Aldora had gotten the young noble into the same room with Drehkos, for Bili could not forget the siege of Morguhn Hall or that Drehkos had been one of the rebel commanders there. His pride might keep the fact from his clansmen, but his peers well knew that pardoning Drehkos and the mad Vahrohnos Myros had been a bitter pill for Bili to swallow.

Sir Ehdt’s pointer paused over the serpentine line of light-blue sand which represented the principal non-seasonal waterway debouched by this section of mountains. When he spoke, his voice was tinged with the respect which the vahrohneeskos had earned from those who had fought him so long. “Lord baronet, this blue sand is the main stream of the Peekrohs River, which you must have crossed next. Please try to recall just where you crossed and the approximate depth.” He then handed over the pointer.

Fingering his ear with his free hand, Drehkos briefly closed his eyes in concentration, then moved up to the table, scrutinizing the jagged chunks of rock and hummocks of sand. Beckoning his officers to him, he exchanged a few low-voiced words with them, then spoke aloud.

“As we remember, my lords, we entered Bitter River about here … but came out here.” He indicated a spot some little distance downstream of the point of entry.

Before he could say more, Vahrohnos Rai Fraizehr, sitting as surrogate for the infant heir of dead Thoheeks Fraizehr, nodded. “Aye, those mountain streams be swift How many men and horses did you lose in that crossing?”

But Drehkos shook his close-cropped head. “It was only swift in the center channel, my lord, though fortunately not too deep. For the length of the distance, here, it is very wide, but generally shallow. That’s why we stayed in it for so long—it’s a pebble bed and easier going for tired horses and exhausted or wounded men than the trails which paralleled it.”

He frowned. “Besides which something told me to employ that route and—”

“And, my lords,” put in one of the former rebel officers with a grin, “Lord Drehkos’ hunch was right, as they mostly are. A couple of days after, we took a wounded Ahrmehnee and, ere he died, squeezed out of him the information that an ambush was set and waiting for us just where we would have been about an hour after we forded the river had we gone straight across. Thanks to Lord Drehkos, we outfoxed those barbarian bastards, went near two whole days without having to fight, we did!” crowed Captain Toorkos, exultantly.

Milo, Aldora and Sir Ehdt had already questioned Drehkos and almost every other living survivor of that march at great length. This session was being staged for the benefit of the nobles and army officers. Now the High Lord rose from his place.

“As you are aware, gentlemen, it is my intent to invade the Ahrmehnee mountains in force. It will be a savage and brutal campaign, for they must be hit hard and hurt seriously, else we’ll soon have them here in our laps.”

Striding around the table, he took up the pointer and placed its tip at the Gap of Vawn—where the transmontane trade-road entered the mountains and near to which lay the tumbled ruins of Fort Buhkuh, in which the last of the Vawnee Kindred nobility had resisted to their deaths the Vawnee rebels.

“At this gap will strike the main body of our force, led by me. I will lead most of the Confederation infantry, with three squadrons of kahtahfraktoee, Thoheeks Hwahltuh of Vawn-Sanderz and his clansmen and half of Vahrohneeskos Drehkos’ troops. We will strike directly for the heart—the seat of the Stahn Nahkhahrah, himself, the place called Zeese.”

He moved the pointer northward, up into the duchy of Thoheeks Skaht. “The force which enters Raider Gap will be led by the High Lady. It will consist of eight squadrons of kahtahfraktoee, two of lancers, Vahrohneeskos Drehkos and all of his remaining cavalry and the Kindred nobility of Skaht, Duhnkin, Lahmahnt and Fraizehr.”

Rapidly, he moved the pointer south, into the Duchy of Baikuh. “Through the Gap of Skulls will go the third prong of our attack. All the Freefighters presently with the army, all the Kindred nobility not otherwise assigned, all to be led by Thoheeks Dili of Morguhn.”

Months agone, when Bili had been the youngest and newest duke of the archduchy and an unknown quantity to his peers, there would certainly have been loud and bitter outcry at the High Lord’s choice of commanders for the southernmost column. But in the wake of several months of brutal combat, much of it commanded by Bili, he was no longer the newest thoheeks and his abilities as both astute captain and stark warrior were well known and unquestioned … for all his not-quite-nineteen years.

The High Lord continued: “The prairiecats will be evenly divided amongst the three columns, as will the medical personnel. The engineers and selected Confederation Army units will take up garrison duties in Vawnpolis and the border forts. The trains will remain in Vawnpolis, as well, but in readiness, for there may be need of them. Overall command of the defenses of the three duchies will be in the capable hands of Sir Ehdt Gahthwahlt and, after due consideration, I have decided that Sub-strahteegos Vaskos Daiviz of Morguhn will command Vawnpolis, assisted by former keeleeoostos Vahrohneeskos Ahndros Theftehros of Morguhn.”

Of all non-mutants present, only Bili understood the hidden meaning of the High Lord’s choices—Aldora was a farspeaker, whose mind could range the Vawnpolis base or any of the other two columns at will; using the added power of another mind, preferably that of a prairiecat, Milo, Bili or Ahndros could do the same, and so the far-flung commands would be in frequent or constant contact, as the situations demanded.

One of the strahteegoee—a short, chunky, white-haired man, whose helm-creased brow and silver cat pendant served notice that he was a field officer, not an administrator—stood, cleared his throat and said, “My lord Milo … ?”

Milo smiled. “Senior Strahteegos Paidros Kailehb has a question, as usual.”

Everyone laughed or chuckled; it was a standing joke. Even Bili’s scowl softened into a smile.

Unabashed, the officer went on. “My lord, if we are to leave the trains behind, how are our necessary supplies to be transported? Mules? If so, we had best commence gathering them.”

The High Lord nodded. “A herd of five hundred mules and asses should, even now, be moving down through Skaht and will be here in a few days. Only my column will bear any quantity of supplies, however, The High Lady’s cavalry and Thoheeks Bili’s Freefighters will be expected to subsist on game—and the mountains are, we understand, swarming with wild beasts—and what foodstuffs they seize from the Ahrmehnee.

“But, back to the order of march and the responsibilities of the three columns, gentlemen. If the Witchmen are physically present among the Ahrmehnee the logical place for them to be is with the nahkhahrah. This is why my column will strike directly for his village. Only one tribe, aside from the nahkhahrah’s own, lies athwart our route, the Tribe of Frainyuhn—or its southern fringes. I anticipate little danger from them, however, since I met their chief last year and found him a young hothead, such a one as tends to make a poor defensive warrior.”

Under his shaven scalp, Bili’s brow wrinkled. “But, my lord, if the Witchmen are with the nahkhahrah, will not most or all of the warriors of the Thirteen Tribes be there as well?”

“Just so,” grinned the High Lord. “And this is where Aldora’s work and yours begins. The plan of the Witch-men is to neutralize—by hook or by crook—the non-Ahrmehnee tribes to the north and west so that the Ahrmehnee fighters will not need to leave warriors to protect their valleys and mountain villages. For though they bear allegiance to the nahkhahrah, Ahrmehnee family ties are far stronger, and they will desert the nahkhahrah in an eyeblink if their homes are imperiled.

“Now, the lands of eight of the tribes are situated to the south of the nahkhahrah’s seat. From one end of this coast to the other, Freefighters are justly renowned as reavers and rapers. And they are to have free rein, Bili. I want every village leveled, every flock butchered or dispersed. Kill the men and rape the women and run the survivors into the forests. But make certain that there are survivors and that they do get away-headed north, preferably on pony-back. When the lands of the first tribe are laid waste, move quickly on to the next.

“The High Lady’s column will also be performing atrocities upon the three tribe lands which lie north of the nahkhahrah’s holdings, and by the time my column arrives at its objective, I expect that most of the Ahrmehnee warriors will be widely scattered, battling back to their homes … or what will then be left of them. We should then be able to coerce the Ahrmehnee into handing over the damned Witchmen, as well as hostages for their future good behavior. Then we can move the Regulars north and south to help in scotching the rest of the Witchmen’s schemes.”