GORARIC
THE SARASINIAN 5th ARMY FOLLOWERS’ CAMP
SOUTHERN AHRENIA
BORDIS
Goraric was smiling because Kolf was smiling, and his uncle had good reason. Riva’s visit to the followers’ camp had not only greatly elevated the status of the Upright Men, it had forced their greatest foe to come to them with his tail between his legs. Childish though it was, Goraric couldn’t look across Kolf’s writing desk without smirking at Banker Leonf.
The banker wore the gaudy style of dress typical of his folk: a gold brocade jacket over a green kurta, and glaring red trousers that were puffy on top but tight around the ankles. He had his oiled black hair in a ponytail, a thick gold earring dangled near his jaw, and heavy gold rings adorned each of his fingers. A protruding gut and multiple chins completed his look.
“I came here...” said Leonf, but he seemed to be having trouble finishing his sentences.
“Unh,” said Jaifur, Leonf’s eldest son. Unlike his father, Jaifur was scrawny and his clothes, though exceedingly fine, fit poorly. Within moments of meeting him, Goraric was struck by his sallow features and wispy moustache. His pinched face spoke of cruelty; rumour had it the boy was a rapist.
“That you did,” said Kolf. He spoke in Sarasinian, of course, for Leonf knew no Ahren. “You came. And we’re truly honoured to host you.”
“Bah,” said Leonf.
“Bah,” echoed Jaifur.
Kolf spared Goraric a wink. “You’ll have to speak louder, Leonf. I can barely hear you.”
Leonf scowled. “Don’t play games with me.”
“Games?” Kolf unfolded his arms and smoothed his moustache down with a thumb and forefinger. “What games?”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying this,” said Leonf. “I thought you’d be above kicking a man when he’s down.”
Kolf snorted. “All things considered, you should be grateful I’m only kicking you in the figurative sense. Had the shoe been on the other foot, I think it quite likely you’d be spitting on my corpse about now.”
“You misjudge me!” cried Leonf, pouting. “You’ve long misjudged me! I’m not who you think I am!”
Goraric snickered. So did the half dozen or so Upright Men standing in the background, silent until now.
“You came here to surrender,” said Kolf, clearly unimpressed by the banker’s theatrics. “So, surrender.”
“No.” Leonf held up a finger in reproach. “I didn’t come to surrender. Never that. But I am willing to stop fighting you and yours. Because it suits me.”
“Because it suits you?” Kolf laughed, and Goraric joined him.
Leonf and Jaifur exchanged looks. Goraric could feel the rage coming off them, Leonf in particular. A powerful man with a boundless sense of entitlement, and accustomed to always having his way. Coming here must have been a bitter pill for him to swallow.
“I’m willing to stop fighting you and yours as well, Leonf,” said Kolf. “But you’re not going to like my terms.”
“Go on,” said the banker.
“Before I give you my terms, you’re going to confirm something for me.”
Leonf nodded. “I know what you’re going to ask.”
“Speak, then.”
“I don’t have your girls.”
“No?”
“I don’t have them and I never did. We made the whole story up.”
“Actually,” said Jaifur brightly, “it was my idea. I thought of it first.”
“Son of a whore!” hissed Goraric, blazing with anger. “So where are they? What happened to them?”
The banker gestured mutely. “I really have no idea.”
“I don’t know either,” said Jaifur. He grinned, vacant-eyed, like a moron.
Kolf snarled and bashed the table with a fist, hard. Leonf showed no reaction, but his son jumped in fright. “I might have known it was all bullshit! For all the trouble he’s put us through, what say I feed your Jaifur here his own balls?”
Leonf put a comforting hand on Jaifur’s shoulder. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“A thousand,” said Kolf, folding his arms again.
“Excuse me?”
“I’ll take a thousand grad in compensation, Leonf. That’s how much your bullshit story will cost you. Have your men deliver it before sundown today.”
“One thousand? Grief of gods!”
“I know you have the money. And if you baulk again at the amount, make any snide comments, or even give me a funny look, I’ll cut off your precious little Jaifur’s fruits. Right here, right now. What say you?”
Goraric could hardly believe his ears. A thousand gold was a staggering sum of money!
When Leonf failed to reply quickly enough, Kolf thumped the table again. “Well? Speak!”
The banker looked about ready to have a conniption. “So be it,” he whispered. Of course, in the face of Kolf’s threat what else could he have said?
Kolf nodded. “Now hear the rest of my terms. From this day onward, Leonf, we’ll suffer no more standover bullshit in this camp. You’re not the lord of this land, and honest taxpayers owe you nothing. Any man caught trying to extort money from anyone will be whipped to within an inch of his life.”
Leonf kicked at the corner of a carpet near his foot. Goraric thought he saw his eyes bulge slightly, but he didn’t open his mouth. Perhaps he was still concerned about the safekeeping of his son’s testicles.
“Usury is forbidden,” said Kolf in a tone that suggested he was just getting started. “No man shall lend money at a rate exceeding five percent. The penalty for breaking this rule in the future will be the same as that for extortion. Do you hear me?”
The banker merely nodded.
“A disturbingly large number of people in this camp have apparently become indentured labourers because they couldn’t repay funds loaned to them by you. I’ve no doubt that you engineered the whole scheme to work the way it does, but it doesn’t matter because it will not continue. A man who cannot pay his debts should not lose his liberty because of it. You will release all such victims immediately.”
Leonf cleared his throat, his eyes now practically exploding out of his skull. “These are harsh terms! I’ll be ruined! You’ve clearly no head for business, have you? No idea how it all works, eh?”
Kolf’s lip twitched. “Oh, clearly.”
“How about the following, then? Instead of–”
“No.”
“But–”
“No. This is not up for negotiation.”
“But the loans?”
“What about them?”
“If a client agrees to a given rate of interest, my dear, or if he accepts the terms offered to him, then how–?”
Kolf shook his head. “Loans will be capped at five percent.”
Leonf let out a sigh of pure despair. “Would you agree to thirty-four percent? Thirty-four percent, and I’d even be willing to cut you in? Let’s say–”
“No.”
“Come now, man! Five percent is trivial!”
“It only seems trivial,” said Kolf angrily, “because you’re used to charging people sixty percent or more! Your banking practices are abhorrent. Your loan schemes are designed to deprive people of their freedom. You speak of clients agreeing to your rates, or of accepting your terms, yet you make no mention of the hundreds of people that you’ve literally forced to take your money!”
Leonf’s eyes glittered with ill-concealed malice. “I swear on my mother’s grave, I have never done such a thing!”
Kolf shook his head. “Spare me your lies. And take heart, banker! You’ll abide by these rules only so long as you remain here. Should you decide to leave the followers’ camp, its laws cease to apply to you. I’ve no mandate to regulate your… business… should you choose to set up in Bordis, for example.”
Leonf jerked back as if slapped. “Och! Why do you mock me?”
“What do you mean?”
The banker shot him an offended look. “As if you don’t know!”
“Don’t know what, Leonf?”
“You act like you don’t know, Kolf, but you do. I would deny you the satisfaction by not speaking of it further.”
“Do whatever you want,” said Kolf, waving a hand at him. “But I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”
“So you say.”
Kolf shrugged. “Our business is concluded. You can show yourself out.”
“Do you know what galls me the most?”
“No,” said Kolf wearily. “I don’t. But I have a feeling you’re going to tell me anyway.”
“How does it feel to come in from the cold? I mean, why would Riva suddenly show you such favour now after all these years?”
“Why don’t you head over to Bordis and ask him?”
Leonf pouted like a toddler deprived of a toy. “Why must you vex me so, man?”
Kolf turned to look at Goraric, who shrugged. He didn’t know what game the banker was playing at now either. Though he did wonder what he’d meant by the phrase show you such favour after all these years with respect to Riva.
Leonf took note of their exchange and said, “I’m beginning to think you really don’t know.”
“I’m tired of this,” said Kolf, pointing the way out. “It’s time you were gone.”
Leonf didn’t move. “Fine. You dragged it out of me–Riva isn’t allowing me into Bordis.”
“Why not?”
“I thought maybe you and your Uptight Men had something to do with it?”
“Well, I didn’t,” said Kolf, taking no notice of the taunt. “And Bordis is closed to everyone for the moment. Not just you.”
“It’s closed to the rabble, perhaps.” Leonf put a hand on his chest. “But I am hardly rabble, now, am I?”
“Do you really want me to answer that?”
Leonf smiled. “I know we have our differences, but–”
The banker’s words were cut off by a sudden commotion outside, and Goraric heard the Upright Men around the tent shout in alarm. He stood up, ready to draw steel. If this was some kind of trick, he resolved that Leonf and Jaifur had taken their last breaths.
“What’s going on?” asked Leonf.
Kolf looked nervous. “I know as much about it as you do.”
At a nod from his uncle, Goraric went outside. He saw people running in all directions, crying out in fear, hastening to pull down tents and lean-tos. Before he could even ask after the source of their panic, grizzled old Hagh, their reconnaissance chief, came riding in and saved him the trouble.
“The boss in, or what?” asked Hagh, quickly dismounting. He tossed his horse’s reins at the first man to cross his path.
Goraric nodded. “He is. What’s going on?”
“There’s a big force movin’ up from the south, that’s what. Headed this way.”
“A big force?”
By way of reply, Hagh merely clicked his tongue and shook his head irritably, so Goraric moved to usher him into the tent. Leonf and Jaifur chose that exact same moment to take their leave, rudely forcing their way past him. The banker stared straight ahead, but Jaifur gave him a haughty look.
“Mind your sack,” muttered Goraric, pivoting so that his scabbard caught the young man square in the crotch. The indignant squawk that followed made his day.
Hagh offered Kolf a stiff salute and launched straight into his report, which in actuality was little more than the single line he’d delivered to Goraric just a few moments before.
Kolf pondered the news for a few moments. “How big? And what force, exactly, would be coming from the south?”
“Well I heard rumours aplenty,” said Hagh. “But nothin’ solid. Whoever they are, they’re kickin’ up a lot o’ dust. We’re talkin’ tens o’ thousands.”
“From the south, though? It couldn’t be stragglers from the battle regrouping, I don’t think.”
“Nay.” Hagh shook his head. “That lot went north, boss. Or east.”
Kolf rubbed the back of his neck. “What are the rumours, then?”
“Well sir, I did come across some fellows what claimed it’s reinforcements for the Lion. Ran into some other folk, though, what claimed it’s the Wehen.”
Kolf rubbed his chin. “The Wehen?”
“Said they seen their banners.”
“What do you think about that?”
“I’m not a man to put much stock in rumours, sir. But I’d be willing to wager it’s not reinforcements for the Lion.”
“It couldn’t actually be the Wehen though, could it?” asked Goraric. “Why would they come so far south? And why now?”
“I don’t know,” said Kolf. “It does seem unlikely for them to be so far from home, and on this side of the river into the bargain. They’ve no friends here. Unless they’ve thrown in their lot with their brothers, maybe?”
“Best assume they’re no friends,” said Hagh. “Whoever they turn out to be.”
Kolf pondered some more. “Yes. If it’s not friendly reinforcements, we must assume it’s another clan army come to challenge the Fifth. Wehen or otherwise, and shit timing or no. I am worried that our current position will very likely become a battlefield in the near future, and I don’t want to be around when that happens.”
“Orders?”
“We get out of here. Bordis is closed to us, and I suppose the route back to Gillendum is no longer an option, either. So, I propose finding some good ground to the north. Somewhere between the city and the river.”
“A fine idea,” said Hagh. “Though there may be enemy warbands out that way.”
“We should be all right as long as we go in numbers, and if we stay within sight of the city.”
“You sure you don’t want to try for the city itself?” asked Goraric, scratching his chin. “Maybe they’ll let the Upright Men in?”
Kolf shook his head. “No. Every man and his dog will be trying to get in, and I don’t expect the Fifth will be keen to oblige any but strong arms. The Upright Men don’t want to be caught up in the politics of all that. How would it look if we abandoned our people now?”
Goraric nodded. “I’ll tell the men to strike camp, then?”
“Yes,” said Kolf. “Do that. Hagh, send your scouts ahead to find a suitable site.”
“Yes, sir.” Hagh threw another stiff salute as he departed.
It took the Upright Men all morning, but they finally managed to gather some four thousand people under their banner. Less than a quarter were men, though, and most of them possessed only makeshift weapons. Despite what Kolf had said about travelling in numbers, Goraric knew they were a hostile warband’s wet dream.
They headed toward the Asfour at a ponderously slow pace, passing by Bordis’s eastern gate. The Fifth had already dug a defensive ditch around the city and men were busily working on an earthen wall atop it. It certainly gave credence to the notion that enemies were moving up from the south, and not support.
Camp followers swarmed around the gates, just as Kolf had said they would. His prediction about the Fifth wanting no refugees proved accurate as well. They all watched as a pair of desperate souls tried to scale an unfinished part of the wall only to be shoved back into the ditch. The first scarpered off relatively unharmed, but the second lay screaming in the mud with a broken back. His frantic cries deterred other potential climbers, and it was good news for the Upright Men because they came away with hundreds of new recruits. Goraric couldn’t help but feel for the injured man, however, and regretted that there was nothing he could do to ease his suffering.
Kolf’s following swelled to some five thousand before arriving at the muddy banks of the river around midday. With only forty-six wagons between them, though, Goraric didn’t like the odds of throwing together a laager capable of sheltering everyone. Fortunately, he needn’t have worried. Trusty old Hagh found a promontory a mile or two upriver, and with relatively little difficulty they managed to haul the wagons onto it. By late afternoon they had them roped together in a line across its neck.
“I like it,” said Kolf, admiring their new sanctuary. The wagons could be defended with just a fraction of the men at their disposal, presenting enemies with a formidable obstacle, and the promontory itself jutted into the river where it was sheer cliff faces on all sides. Assaulting their position from any point would be a daunting task, even for an experienced commander.
“We’re sealed off from the outside world,” said Goraric. “Which is both good and bad, I guess.”
“More good than bad, I think.”
Goraric looked around. Tents were going up and people seemed happy enough. The promontory didn’t offer much aside from grass and rocks, though. “Until we run out of food.”
“Well now,” said Kolf, extending an arm out over the water. “You see all those waves? That there is what you call a river, Goraric. Now I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but rivers have fish in them.”
“You have to catch them first, uncle.”
Kolf smiled. “Then that’s what we’ll do, nephew! That’s what we’ll do.”
Goraric thought it easier said than done, but saw no point in pressing the issue. Thinking it better to let someone else worry over it, he said goodbye and went to see to his horse. By the time that was finished, darkness fell and the first stars appeared in the sky. No one had much in the way of firewood, so the few cooking fires that sprang up were short-lived. He didn’t have much of an appetite anyway. After wandering the promontory, he propped himself up against a boulder and pulled his cloak over his head. He half-slept, dreaming that a demon came to peck at his skull, followed by recurring visions of dead girls laughing as they smeared blood on his cheeks. Someone nudged him awake during; he felt worse than if he’d never even closed his eyes.
“Boss wants you,” said Tarec, standing over him, head silhouetted against a waxing moon.
Goraric struggled to his feet. “Right.” How had the man managed to find him amongst the civilians?
Tarec pointed at the wall of wagons off in the distance. “He’s over there.”
“Thanks.” He watched the man leave, then made his way to where Kolf, flanked by heavily-armed Upright Men, was speaking to a weary group of newcomers. He took a small sack from a man and waved the lot through.
“Have you denied entry to many people?” asked Goraric.
Kolf turned to face him. He looked tired, but a fierce light burned in his eyes. “Not one!”
“Even if they can’t pay?”
“Even if they can’t pay.” He gestured at the backs of the latest arrivals. “I let them in for almost nothing. So, how goes it?”
“I’m tired, but who isn’t?” said Goraric with a shrug. He’d never said a word to his uncle about his dreams. And everyone already knew that he rarely slept anyway, and why. “You sent for me?”
“I did. I have news. Or confirmation, rather.”
“Oh?”
“The Wehen are marching on Bordis after all.”
Goraric stifled a yawn, but only because he was that drained. “So the rumours were true?
“Apparently.” Kolf nodded. “They’re moving up from the southeast. But it gets even more interesting, Goraric, because it seems they’re not alone. The Ture have also taken the field.”
“Well, shit.” Wehen territory started a week north of the Asfour. Or about that long on a fast horse, maybe. And the Ture came from even further afar. “How is that even possible? The clans despise each other.”
Kolf looked at him. “They do, and they don’t. But they hate the Sarasinians more. Enough to band together to try to wipe out the Fifth, at least.”
“Is that what’s really happening?”
“Do you have a better theory? We’ve had all sorts turning up here, and they’re telling more or less the same story. I’ve no doubt it’s the Ture and the Wehen. None.”
“But those two, marching side by side? I’m having trouble picturing it.”
“I know.” Kolf shook his head. “Two massive hosts. The Wehen are coming from the southeast, as I already said. And the Ture from the northwest.”
“One the hammer, and the other the anvil,” said Goraric, turning his gaze beyond the wagon-fort. At this distance, Bordis was a cluster of shimmering yellow dots, as if a handful of stars had dropped out of the sky and gathered on the ground. “Three clans working together couldn’t defeat the Fifth, though. What chance do two more have?”
“Maybe Bordis was a trap? Three weak clans for bait? Gods, I don’t know.”
“How will it pan out, do you think?”
“Who knows?” said Kolf, looking at him. “But if the Fifth gets fucked, so do we.”
“So, what now? We just wait here and see what happens?”
“Yes and no. I have a task for you, if you’re willing.”
“And that would be?”
“I want you to go to Bordis, to the eastern gate. There are Herenians there, and–”
“You want me to try to get into the city?”
“Yes. We’ve no eyes or ears there, a situation that must be remedied.”
“And you think they’ll just let me in? They turned away thousands of people just this morning.”
Kolf nodded. “They turned away useless mouths. It’ll be different for you.”
Not every mouth that had been denied was useless, but who was Goraric to argue? The assignment offered more excitement than sitting around here with the civilians on their promontory. “As you wish. I’ll go, of course.”
Kolf took a helm from a basket and held it out. “Good man. This is for you. There’s a letter inside with our new seal on it, promising five hundred fighters, fully equipped. Use it to gain an audience with Riva, if possible. While you’re there, find out as much information as you can.”
“Five hundred?” asked Goraric, taking the helm. It was a plain-looking nasal helm with an aventail, but well made. “Can we afford to give that many?”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s just a ruse to get you inside. Now, wear your best armour for this one, nephew. And take your sword as well as your spear.”
“Yes, uncle.”
“It will be light soon. Stay safe. Come back as quickly as possible.”
Goraric nodded. “Am I to go by myself?”
“Take what men you will,” said Kolf with a wave as he turned around. “And good luck, Goraric.”
Goraric left the promontory alone with the sun’s first rays warming his cheek. Why he hadn’t chosen some companions was a question he couldn’t answer. He rode swiftly, meeting no opposition on his way to the city, and was relieved to find its eastern gate still manned by Herenians. A hundred men in total, maybe, armed and guarding a makeshift bridge spanning the ditch. Archers peered down from atop the new wall.
A group of ex-camp followers, voicing their anger at not being allowed in, edged too close to the bridge. The soldiers dispersed them with threats. Goraric rode through the crowd, stopping to tell any who would listen where to find refuge with the Upright Men. Some thanked him. Others, thinking he was mocking them, told him to get fucked. He refused to be baited, and his weapons and armour deterred anyone from getting too carried away. Some people left, but if it was to go looking for Kolf’s promontory he never found out.
A pair of soldiers intercepted him as he neared the bridge. “That’s close enough,” said the first, giving him and his horse the once-over. “Who are you?”
“Goraric of Herena,” said Goraric. At least Kolf hadn’t given him an alter ego this time, or a story to remember. “I’m here on behalf of the Upright Men.”
“An’ you’re here for what, exactly?”
“To enter the city, if possible.”
The soldiers looked at each other. “It’s not.”
“I have a letter from our captain, Kolf of Herena. My uncle.” When that name received no response he added, “The letter is addressed to Lord Riva. We’re, uh, offering manpower, should you need it. What with the enemy clans closing in and everything?”
“Right,” grunted the man. “Who’d you say you were with again? The Upright Men?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve heard of your company.”
Goraric smiled. “Only good things, I hope?”
The man shrugged. “Does it matter? Can’t let you into the city regardless.”
Goraric’s hope began to fade. “Don’t you want to see the letter? Here, I’ll show you...”
“It won’t make any difference, friend. No one’s getting’ in or out–those are our orders.”
“Well,” said Goraric, taking off his helm to retrieve his uncle’s letter anyway. “Maybe you can give this to whoever and they can take it to Lord Riva? After all, it was the archon himself who gav