Deceptions (Ascendant Book 3) by Craig Alanson

Author:Craig Alanson [Alanson, Craig]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2017-12-31T22:00:00+00:00

Renhelm and Raddick wished to walk through the night, if that had been possible. Because they were tasked with herding along over a hundred refugees, and because it was too dangerous to walk through the tricky mountain paths in total darkness, they agreed to call a halt just after sunset. That far north, twilight lingered for nearly an hour, allowing time for finding or setting up shelters. Since they could not risk artificial light giving away their position, they did not allow torches or fires. A few of the refugees grumbled about the lack of hot food, but those malcontents were silenced by their fellows, who were grateful for the protection of soldiers. The civilians knew the sacrifices the dwarf army had already made for them, and knew the surviving soldiers would prefer to race ahead to the safety behind the thick, grim ancient stone walls of Magross.

Despite of most refugees expressing their gratitude, both Renhelm and Raddick chafed at how slowly the civilians were walking. Renhelm, concerned about how poorly the refugees climbed one moderate ridge on their journey, went so far as ordering the refugees drop anything not absolutely necessary, which caused arguments until Renhelm took the packs civilians were carrying one by one and rummaging through the contents himself, tossing out any items he considered to be not needed on the climb up to the fortress of Magross. In Renhelm’s experienced opinion, that was almost everything. One dwarf argued when Renhelm tossed a pretty ceramic teapot onto a rock, shattering it. “That has been in my family for five generations!” The dwarf shouted angrily, needing to be restrained from striking the military leader.

“Aye, and if you wish there to be a sixth generation, you will toss aside anything that burdens you on this climb. You think these foothills are steep? Ha! You should see the mountain in front of us! The likes of you will be gasping for breath in the first hundred yards,” he spat on the shattered teapot in disgust. Many mountain dwarves did not consider their cousins who lived in the relative flatlands of the valley just north of Tarador to be ‘true’ dwarves, even though the valley folk brought their livestock and harvested crops up to mountain villages for sale several times each year.

“Renhelm,” Raddick whispered with a hand on the dwarf’s arm, “a word, please.”

When the dwarf stepped aside, he confronted Raddick. “This is no concern of yours.”

“It is my concern, if arguments and discord slow us further. Most of these people are carrying oilcloth cloaks and extra blankets. It is, what, four days up to Magross?”

“Six or more, with us dragging this lot along,” Renhelm grumbled sourly.

“The weather holds fine, and even up here will not likely snow so early,” Raddick spoke from experience. “If these people wish to keep their precious possessions, tell them to wrap them in blankets and oilcloths to keep them dry, and we will stash everything under cover.”

“Hmm,” Renhelm considered the idea, not likely that a dwarf had to listen to a man from Tarador.

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