Chapter 92: Brak’s Report
The day passed quickly as the expansion works in the settlement continued at a steady pace. At dusk, just as the thick smoke from the communal fires signaled dinnertime, a staggering figure emerged from the treeline. The scout fell to his knees in the snow, completely exhausted and on the verge of collapse.
Noticing his arrival, the guard sounded the alert horn, and a squad of hunters rushed out to lift him and support his weight.
"Welcome back, Brak," said Kellar, clearing a path for him into the warmth of his wooden house. "Grok, bring a bowl of hot wine so he can catch his breath."
"I... Shaman... I saw... they... they are coming..." said Brak, his voice raspy from extreme fatigue.
"Easy, Brak," said Kellar, placing a hand on his wind-chapped shoulder. "Drink something first and breathe. In a moment you will be able to tell me everything."
Grok handed him the wooden bowl, and Brak gripped it with both trembling hands, gulping down the thick wine. He sat on a log by the hearth and began inhaling and exhaling slowly. After five minutes of silence, his breathing finally stabilized.
"Good, it’s great to see you in one piece," said Kellar, pulling out the parchment with the drawn map. "Now tell me, what happened out there?"
"I moved as fast as I could toward the north, just as you ordered," said Brak, pointing with a clumsy finger at the lower section of the map. "I bypassed the giant crocodile territory alone by following the river’s course, and then I pushed into the red pine forest. The ground gets very dangerous there, Shaman. It is the territory of the red monkeys."
"Red monkeys?" said Kellar, looking up.
"They are territorial beasts the size of a man, with claws hard as rock and bristling fur," said Brak, letting out a shiver. "They always attack in packs from the treetops against anyone crossing their domain. However, something very strange happened... As I was crossing but I could feel those creatures watching me from above, ready to pounce, but they never attempted to chase me or come down from the branches. They just stayed frozen, terrified by something I couldn’t see."
Kellar offered an imperceptible smirk. He knew perfectly well it was the invisible presence of his familiar, the white cat, that had kept the pack at bay during the entire journey. Without revealing anything, he grabbed the charcoal and marked the location of the red pine forest and the threat posed by the monkeys on his sketch.
"I see, continue," said Kellar. "How far did you reach?"
"I crossed that area and followed the trail of smoke," said Brak, adjusting his fur cloak. "Those men in black are setting up camp right behind the Ash Valley."
"Ash Valley?" said Kellar, stopping his charcoal mid-stroke. "What do you mean by ash?"
"It is a dead land, Great Shaman," said Brak, reaching into his leather pouch to pull out a handful of fine, grayish powder, which he displayed on the table. "The ground is covered in this. No grass grows there, and there is no clean water—just this powder, like that of a burned-out hearth."
Kellar took a bit of the powder between his fingers, rubbing it carefully to feel its texture before looking back at the scout.
"How vast is this Ash Valley?" said Kellar.
"It takes nearly half a day to cross on foot, Shaman," said Brak, pointing to a wide strip on the parchment. "There is no vegetation or large game in that area, which makes the journey extremely grueling. But those invaders have set up a large camp in the hills right at the edge of the valley."
"Were you able to see how many of them there are?" said Krag, leaning his hands on the table with a grim expression. "Do they have experienced warriors, or are they merely raiders?"
"There are more than two hundred men, Captain," said Brak, looking straight at Krag. "I saw dozens of tents made of dark hides. They all wear black cloth and reinforced leather armor. They don’t look like ordinary hunters; they move in strict formation and maintain armed sentries around the entire perimeter. The most alarming thing is that they have dozens of chained prisoners working for them, hauling supplies and erecting palisades."
"Metal chains?" said Kellar, raising an eyebrow with clear interest.
"Yes, Shaman," said Brak, nodding firmly. "Heavy iron chains. The sound of dragging metal could be heard from afar. Furthermore, I saw several men who seemed to be their leaders carrying short swords made of the same material."
Krag let out a muted grunt of frustration and clenched his fists.
"They have metal weapons and tools..." said Krag, looking at Kellar in concern. "That means their strength and equipment far exceed anything any tribe in this valley has ever seen. If two hundred warriors equipped with iron march here, our stone and bone spears will shatter on first impact."
"Don’t jump to conclusions, Krag," said Kellar, drawing the hills and the enemy camp onto the paper. "Numbers and metal mean nothing if they lack a proper strategy. Tell me, Brak, did you observe where their scouts are moving? Do they intend to march immediately?"
"From what I could tell before heading back, they don’t seem to be in a rush to advance in force," said Brak. "They are sending out small raiding parties to loot and burn the smaller surrounding tribes, gathering more slaves and supplies. But it is only a matter of time before their scouts find the path connecting the Ash Valley to our borders."
"Then we have just enough time in our favor," said Kellar, a cold smile forming on his lips as he tapped the map gently. "They know how to subjugate primitive tribes, but they don’t have the slightest clue what awaits them when they try to cross into our territory."
Upon hearing his words, every hunter inside the house raised their weapons into the air, feeling the exhilarating rush of impending war surging through their veins.