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On Tarryoh
Part 3
A Foot in Two Camps
At dawn the group of envoys
and attendants galloped out through the heavy town gate at full pace with spare
horses running behind them. Several packhorses also followed behind them. One held
a portable radio and battree, others carried tents and a small quantity of supplies.
They aimed to make contact with the nomads as far from the town as possible and
allow the arriving guardian units and militiamen of Tarryoh time to prepare her
defence.
The main group of
guardians and militia planned to stop a day’s march from the town in a valley
where a defence ambush be mounted. Scouts fanned out into neighbouring valleys
to ensure the force would not be outflanked.
Darby’s carried a bag over
his shoulders and his small crossbow, lighter and easier to use in the forest. At
mid-afternoon they topped a rise and the forest opened up below them into a
broad meadow, used in dry years for extra grazing. A few hundred yards away
stood a group of tents, the largest flying a blue flag with a double Z and a white
star on top, symbol of one of the nomad warlords. In the distance cattle grazed
and another clump of tents stood amongst the green. Mounted guards appeared
from either side, crossbows loaded.
They halted and waved
the flag of Tarryoh from side to side to indicate their purpose. The envoy called
out to the men. “You have entered the countree of Tarryoh. We have come to greet
your leader.”
One of the men nodded. They
formed up alongside the party and they trotted slowly down the slope toward the
large tent. A bugle sounded and several men, dressed in leather and sporting
long beards in the nomad style, came out of the tent as they approached. The
party halted twenty yards away and dismounted.
The formal speeches of
introduction began. Darby eyed the tents and cattle in the distance. He handed
his reins to another man and stepped behind the deputy envoy, keeping his head
bent and his hat low over his face. “When you go in to talk I will investigate
their camp.” The woman nodded almost imperceptibly and returned her attention
to the nomad leader.
They tethered their
horses by a stream at the edge of the forest near the road back to the town.
All people of Tarryoh felt more comfortable with the forest close at hand. It
would also allow Darby to slip away unnoticed. When the pack horses arrived they
unloaded the equipment and set up the tents. Two nomad guards watched from a
distance. When an opportunity arose Darby slipped into the trees.
Soon after he lay on his
belly in the undergrowth at the edge of the forest. He gripped a small
telescope in his hands and scanned the second encampment. Cattle grazed over
the meadow. A small band of stock drovers kept a wary eye for wolves and other predators.
Darby counted the men, a dozen at most, and the cattle, perhaps a few hundred. He
was no farmer but they didn’t seem to be in poor condition. Where were the vast
herds he had been told of, the families, the wagons? This did not look like a
seasonal migration. This was a maple leaf desperately trying to cover someone’s
bare behind.
He returned to the Tarryoh
camp, refilled his water skin and drank. Two militiamen sat chatting, keeping
an eye on the horses grazing nearby.
A short time later the
envoys emerged from the tent, strode over to the camp and sat down. The nomad
leader had not yet spelled out the full nature of his plans. The envoys were
invited to a feast of grilled meat in the evening, accompanied no doubt by
copious amounts of drink. Two large militia officers had been chosen to join
the group for that very eventuality.
Finally the deputy envoy
spoke to Darby. “What did you find on your little ramble in the forest young
Madsin?”
“Ma’am. I went closer to
the tents over there,” he pointed to the pale specks in the distance. “and the
cattle grazing nearby. There are a few hundred cattle at most, and in good
condition. I saw no women and children with them, just a small group of men to
watch the stock.”
The deputy nodded.
“Thank you for your report.” She turned to the chief envoy. “I suggest that
Madsin and another scout do some more reconnaissance tonight.”
A militiamen laughed and
punched Darby on the shoulder. “Have fun. We’ll save you some scorched beef!”
****
Several hours after dark
the envoys emerged from the nomad leader’s tent. The envoy was tense. “The
nomads claim they have permission from the Irrakoy to graze their cattle this
winter by the lake but offer no evidence. We offered to provide them with
guides to take them south to the lake and then east to Kibbik and the Irrakoy
nation, or north east, around the Tarryoh forests and then south, but they
refused.”
Her deputy nodded. “It
seems they are determined to pass through Tarryoh.”
One of the militia
officers laughed. “By the time they get to the other side they will have eaten all
the winter grass and it will be time to come back again.”
The other disagreed. “I
say let them through. We have plenty of grass this year, and we may find that
they have useful things to trade. Are we not proud of our reputation as friends
to all countrees who come in peace?”
The envoy decided they
must notify the capital at once and seek advice. Just before she turned on the
radio she paused. “Are the scouts back?”
“Not yet.”
****
Darby and the militia scout
skirted the first herd of cattle. Nothing had changed from his earlier inspection.
It was not a big herd and there were few nomads there. They continued on for
two hours and finally saw lights in the distance. Fires. As they crept closer
voices reached them. Loud singing and shouting wafted on the breeze from around
the campfires over the sound of music from ukes and fiddles. They stayed in the
shadows of the forest. How many do you think.” Darby whispered.
“Five hundred at least.”
“Let’s keep going
around.” They moved silently through the trees, eyes peeled for sentries and
dogs. More men, campfires, tents, wagons of supplies. They spotted some sentries
who had not succumbed to the revelry. They carried short barrelled guns with a
strange curved appendage on the bottom. Nothing like the special guardians’
weapons.
Finally a patch of dark
in the camp provided the opportunity Darby was looking for. “Let’s go closer.”
“No. it’s too dangerous.
We’ve seen enough.” said the scout.
Darby shook his head. “My
brother is here. I must help him.”
“You’re out of your
tree. And I have orders to keep you with me.” He reached for Darby’s
shoulder. He slipped the man’s grip and
raced into the darkness, darting between the tents and out of sight.
He passed a wagon with a
strange contraption upon it, steaming and bubbling. The smell of alcohol tickled
his nostrils. This must be the source of the drink that made the nomads so
raucous around their fires.
He kept to the shadows, listening
every few steps for any movement, human or animal that would lead to his
detection. He pulled out the telescope
and scanned the faces around each of the fires in turn. He paused at a dark haired
man with a shorter beard. His mouth gaped open. It was his brother.
********
Read On Tarryoh (Part 4) Out of the Frying Pan, here.
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