On Hostile Ground: Book One of the Hippo Chronicles

On Hostile Ground

Book One of the Hippo Chronicles

Copyright © 2009 by B.A. Seloaf

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ISBN: 978-1-4401-4497-4 (pbk)

ISBN: 978-1-4401-4498-1 (eBook)

Printed in the United States of America

iUniverse rev. date: 3/23/2010

Contents

Preface

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Epilogue

Preface

Like so many fantasy stories, this one probably has its roots in J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings and The Silmarillion. I was introduced to Tolkien’s works in the mid-80s and, like many others who found themselves stricken by the magnificence of Tolkien’s writing, wanted to write a story of my own. It took a while, but here it is.

Similar to when Stephen King set out on his literary quest for the Dark Tower, I decided I didn’t want to write about elves and dwarves. I admit that the first versions of this story had some pretty blatant Tolkien rip-offs, but elves and dwarves was where I drew the line. No magic rings, either. That would just have been too obvious.

So, what was I to write about?

One advantage with the fantasy genre is that there are very few boundaries regarding the forming of characters and settings. You can write about all kinds of weird creatures, and the reader will both accept and (hopefully) like them. Yet I wanted something different from what already existed, something I could feel was entirely my own invention.

I had in my room a toy hippo and a toy moomintroll (which I actually knitted myself in school, the gods alone know how I managed that) which I’d played a bit with a few years earlier. In my imagination I pictured them fighting each other with swords, and suddenly the first seeds of this story had been planted.

Like many other great works of literature (note the modesty), the first version of this one was written by hand in small notebooks. It was originally part of an overly grand historical cycle, spanning thousands of years (read Silmarillion rip-off), and if those notebooks still exist I hope no one will ever find and read them. The part about Rumpo and the hippozones was very short, about 10 notebook pages in the first version and maybe 45 in the last (written around 1990).

When I approached the age where you leave your childhood fancies behind and step into the complicated arena known as adult life I abandoned the hippos and moomintrolls in order to focus on more important things like beer and women. The story never left me completely, though, and I guess I always retained the dream of turning it into a real book. It wasn’t until a few years ago that I realized this was something I might actually accomplish.

At that time I spent an almost unhealthy amount of time at an online Tolkien forum. I’m not saying all that time was wasted. It was both highly entertaining and informative in many ways. I’m still in touch with some of the people I got to know there, and if any of you read this I want you to know that this book might never have existed without you. So I guess I owe you all a great deal of thanks.

Anyway, one day on this discussion forum I ended up in a debate about old stories people had written as kids. I mentioned my story about the hippos fighting the moomintrolls, and many thought it sounded incredibly funny and wanted me to show them some part of it. I told them it was written in Swedish and thus unintelligible to them. Naturally, they asked me to translate it, and I actually think I dug up one of the old notebooks and translated a page or two. The thought of showing people this horrible piece of writing from my childhood brought on fierce embarrassment, though, so I quickly abandoned the venture.

But something had struck a spark into the slumbering darkness of my imagination, and I found myself wondering whether I might actually do something with this old story of mine. The story about Rumpo and the hippozones had always been my favourite, so it felt natural to focus on it. So one day I began writing, convinced I would lose motivation after a few days and abandon the story once more.

But I didn’t lose motivation. In about five months, early in 2003, I wrote the first real version of On Hostile Ground (though it had a different name back then). It ended up being slightly over 55.000 words, and I posted it in chunks of about 2.000 words at the aforementioned discussion board. Surprisingly, there were a few people who read all of it.

I was immensely proud of my work, the first time I’d written something that could qualify as a novel. Looking back now, this first version is almost as embarrassing as the one from my childhood. Perhaps I will find the one you’re about to read now as horrible in a couple of years.

Once finished with the 2003 version of the story, I began writing a sequel. It was (and still is) titled The Alliance, and might be finished and published one day. I also made plans for a third and final volume, which I called Wrath of the Medallion. That one is still not fully outlined.

The Alliance turned out to grow into a much longer story than On Hostile Ground, so a couple of years ago I went back to the text I’d written back in 2003 and tried to think of some way to extend it. There were many parts I was far from satisfied with, and my writing style had also changed significantly. So I ended up rewriting more or less the whole thing, and as I worked the story grew into what you hold in your hand now. I believe this final version is about as good as I’ll ever be able to make it, and hopefully the reader will find it enjoyable as well. It’s a story that means a lot to me.

Despite all the criticism I’ve aimed at the story from my childhood, there are elements that have survived the years. The major plot line is virtually unchanged, and throughout the story there are ideas and events that go all the way back to the beginning.

Some of the names are unchanged as well. Rumpo, for example, was originally a mock-version of Rambo, a movie and movie character very popular among young boys in the mid-80s. A few geographical names, like Filpini (the Philippines) and Indesse (Indonesia), are remnants from the time when I wanted to link the world of the hippos to our own (another influence from Tolkien’s works).

Unfortunately, the names Moomintroll and Moominvalley turned out to be heavily protected by copyright law, so the Moomintrolls in this story became the Noori and Moomin Valley was changed to Noori Vale.

For those of you not familiar with the Moomins I’ll provide a brief description. They are a peculiar, big-nosed family of trolls created by Finnish author Tove Jansson. Their adventures can be enjoyed in a number of books, comic strips and TV adaptations. Both books and adaptations have always been very popular in Finland, Sweden and Latvia, and with the so-called Moomin Boom during the 90s they achieved massive success all over the world.

My version of the moomintrolls are very different from the original, and none of my characters bear any resemblance to those created by Tove Jansson (just as my hippos are more alike to humans than to the big, four-legged animals we find in Africa today), but if you check them out you might get an idea of how I pictured the Noori in this story.

I haven’t bothered with maps and such. In the first version of the story there were other races inhabiting different parts of the hippos’ world, some allied to them and others to the moomintrolls. Later I decided to cut out those peoples, and with them went the places they’d lived in. I’ve chosen to describe only the parts of the world which have any connection to the story. Feel free to make your own sketch of how you picture the various regions.

That’s all I can remember about the origin and development of this story. I hope you’ll find it enjoyable. It was certainly enjoyable to write.

B.A. Seloaf

February 2009

Prologue

Turning the corner, Rumpo stopped to collect his breath. His cousin Alikos was already halfway down the next corridor, running as if the entire Noori army was after him. With a delighted shout Rumpo set off in pursuit. He knew himself to be the faster runner of the two, but Alikos was sly and knew exactly how to trick his cousin. A few quick turns, and Rumpo would lose him. Not that that would have been a disaster in any way. Playing hide-and-seek was almost as much fun as chasing Alikos through the palace corridors. But this time, Rumpo had decided, he was going to catch him.

The royal palace in Hogbar, the capital of the hippo kingdom of Filpini, was a huge building and Rumpo and Alikos could chase each other for hours without entering more than a part of its great halls and courtyards. None of them would ever get lost, of course. Both Rumpo and Alikos had spent the bigger part of their six-year-old lives in the halls of king Mardius, who was not only the king of Filpini but also Rumpo’s grandfather.

Rumpo turned another corner and skidded to a halt. The corridor before him was empty. He took a few hesitant steps, listening for the sound of Alikos’s running feet. His cousin couldn’t be that far ahead of him, but the corridor was long and there were no doors in either of the walls.

Rumpo ran to the end of the corridor and looked both right and left. Still no sign of the other hippo boy. It looked like the rest of the afternoon would be spent playing hide-and-seek after all. Rumpo turned left and then right through the first opening in the stone wall. Then he stopped short.

He had passed through one of the back doors leading into the great throne room. Even if he was the king’s grandson the huge hall always made Rumpo feel a bit scared. Thick stone pillars ten or fifteen times Rumpo’s own height stretched up towards the vaulted ceiling far above him, and a long red carpet covered the floor from the main entrance almost all the way to the dais at the other end of the hall. On the dais stood his grandfather’s wooden throne.

There were only two other people in the throne room. King Mardius sat on his throne dressed in a red mantle, wearing Filpini’s golden crown on his head. His younger brother Nauru, the commander of the king’s guardsmen, stood to the left of the throne, wearing chainmail and holding his iron helmet beneath one muscular arm. Across his back hung a formidable two-handed sword, its elaborately carved hilt sticking up above his left shoulder. Neither of them had spotted Rumpo yet.

So you mean to go through with it? asked Mardius, the worry evident in his voice, as unmistakeable as footprints on a dusty floor.

Nauru nodded. It’s about time we showed the Noori that we still pose a threat to them. If we don’t put some fear into their hearts they’ll seek to expand their own borders, and sooner or later we will have them assaulting our own people. It has to begin somewhere, and I’m ready to strike the first blow.

As quietly as he could Rumpo slipped behind a stone column. This sounded like a serious conversation, and if any of the adults were to discover him eavesdropping they would chase him from the throne room immediately. If he was unlucky they would command one of the nurses to lock him up in his chamber for the rest of the day. With his heart pounding like a drum he peered around the pillar.

But wouldn’t it be wiser to assemble a greater force? the king asked. Five hundred soldiers would be able to rebuild the hippozones and defend them against the Noori without difficulty. What do you seek to accomplish with only a handful of men?

Such a large company would be slow and make a lot of noise, Nauru replied. We would attract the Noori’s attention before we were halfway through our journey. A smaller troop of brave warriors will be able to avoid detection and strike swift and hard blows at the Noori’s patrols. We can cause much damage without them even knowing what’s going on.

Perhaps, Mardius said, still with a lot of doubt in his voice. But sooner or later they’ll draw the conclusion that a hostile force is moving about their territories. They will gather a great host and hunt you down.

Nauru smiled. If they do I will stand a better chance evading them with a small number than I would with hundreds of soldiers with supply carts and all. We can slip into our hidden fortresses in the woods, where they won’t be able to find us. We’ll be able to move much faster than the Noori army.

I’m still not sure, the king said. The Noori know this country. They have watchzones on every hilltop and they patrol each and every path and trail from Noori Lake to the western hills.

Do you really think so? asked Nauru, still with a slight smile on his lips. They haven’t seen a force of hippos for more than a hundred years. Soldiers grow lazy without battles, their vigilance slacken. The new recruits probably don’t even believe we exist.

Behind the stone column Rumpo listened, eyes wide with excitement. Fighting the Noori was something all young men in Filpini dreamed of. There weren’t many who had not listened to the old legends about king Barloman and how he conquered Noori Vale more than one hundred and fifty years ago. Back then the hippos had been much more powerful than they were now, but many young boys in Filpini still dreamed of leading a new army to war against their ancient enemy. Rumpo’s attention turned back to the two men in the throne room as his grandfather spoke again.

What do you mean to accomplish then, Nauru? You can’t expect to hold even one hippozone with so few men.

Whether we hold a hippozone or not is of little importance, Nauru answered. What really matters is that we might be able to threaten the Noori on their own ground. If they feel that they can’t defend their own territory, the risk is small that they will consider invading ours. A well-armed hippozone is something they can see, consider its strength and how best to assail it. But what about the enemy they can’t see? A silent threat waiting in the woods, always ready to strike them unawares. That will inspire more fear than stone walls with soldiers in armour on top.

The king sighed. All right. You’ve always understood these matters much better than I. Pick the men you want to accompany you and all the supplies you need. I also want you to have this.

He leaned slightly forward and removed the chain with the hippos’ sacred medallion that hung around his neck. Rumpo couldn’t stop himself from gasping silently. Legend told that the kings of Filpini had carried this talisman ever since Flidsi the great founded the kingdom more than a thousand years ago. Was his grandfather really going to give it away, even if it was to his own brother? Rumpo was certain that such a thing had never happened before. The medallion was said to have magical powers.

I can’t accept this gift, my king, Nauru said softly. The fate of the hippos is bound to it, or so it’s said. You must keep it here to protect your people.

The fate of the hippos may very well lie in your hands, brother, the king replied. If you’re right and the Noori may seek to invade our kingdom this quest of yours will be more important than anything I might face here in Hogbar. You will need it more than I will.

Reluctantly, Nauru took the chain in his right hand and looked at the shining medallion. After a few moments he put it around his own neck, then bowed and stood silent. When the king spoke again Rumpo let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding since his grandfather removed the chain from his neck.

How long before you leave?

A week, maybe two, Nauru said. I have some planning to do, and there are some things I need that I haven’t acquired yet. As soon as everything is ready I’ll be on my way.

Very well, the king said, not looking at his brother. You’d better start working on it at once. You mustn’t fail in this, Nauru.

I won’t fail, Nauru said. You have my word.

I hope that will be enough, the king grumbled.

As Nauru turned to leave Rumpo took a step to conceal himself better behind the stone pillar. His heart was pounding so hard it seemed to drown out the sound of Nauru’s boots as he walked back towards the throne room’s main entrance. On the throne his grandfather appeared to be lost in deep thought. It was obvious that the king wasn’t happy about Nauru’s plans.

Why is he so worried? Rumpo wondered. Nauru’s talk about fighting the Noori, to prevent them from coming to Filpini, was the most amazing thing he’d ever heard. They were true heroic deeds, the kind people sang about on feast days. How could anyone disapprove of such intentions?

Rumpo sighed. He wished he’d been older so that he could have joined Nauru’s troop on its mission. He promised himself that one day he’d also travel to Noori Vale to fight the wicked trolls who lived there. As soon as he was old enough he would ask his father to assign someone who could teach him to use a sword. A real sword, not just a wooden stick like those he and Alikos used in their mock fights. One day…

He left the throne room through the same door he’d used to enter it, and went in search of his cousin. He couldn’t wait to tell him all about this.

Chapter One

The courtyard was a mess. Everywhere hippos were walking or running, loading carts and wagons or simply shouting at each other, producing a noise that people were likely to hear more than a mile from the city. Dogs barked, horses whinnied, and wagon wheels creaked, all mixed into a cacophony that could make any man wish he had no ears.

Rumpo stood in the middle of the yard and wondered where to start. They had to be on their way before noon, and from the look of it not even half the procession was ready. He sighed, not for the first time that day. It was his responsibility to make sure they’d leave on time. He was the one appointed to lead this madness north to the hippozones.

To his left the Filpini banner, five golden stars on scarlet bottom, flapped above the royal palace’s main building. The light spring breeze didn’t reach Rumpo where he stood, though, surrounded as he was by stables, armouries and the wooden barracks where most of the soldiers working in the palace had their quarters. The sun had just risen above the outer walls, sending long shadows across the courtyard. Rumpo watched them play across the hard-packed earthen ground.

He was the commander of the king’s guardsmen, selected for the position at the age of nineteen. Now, at twenty-four, he was already considered a veteran, even if he never had fought anything but rebellious lordlings and bands of brigands. Well, that would probably change soon enough, and then they would all see if his long years of training would be enough. He wondered how many battles there would be before this was over. Perhaps he wouldn’t live through his first…

His father, king Pelyas, had planned this mission for more than a year. Ever since it had become clear that Nauru wasn’t going to come back from the quest he undertook back when Rumpo was still a child, the officers of the Filpini army had been discussing the possibility of leading a greater force of arms into Noori territory. But the old king Mardius had always kept his belief in Nauru’s return.

When Rumpo’s father inherited the throne six years ago the talk resumed with greater force than ever, until king Pelyas gave in and began putting people to work. And today it was to begin.

As it was evident that Nauru’s plans had failed, king Pelyas had decided that a great force of arms was to be sent north. Few of his councillors had suggested sending a smaller troop like the one Nauru had led, and those who did had promptly been silenced. No, this time it was going to be different. The hippos would march north in force with wagons and carts pulled by horses, with both armed soldiers and other craftsmen and servants. The hippozones were to be rebuilt and manned with strong garrisons. This time the Noori wouldn’t take them by surprise.

As Rumpo watched sacks of grain being loaded onto big wooden carts his mind drifted away to the stories of the glorious days of his kingdom, when king Barloman had conquered the entire Noori Vale, something no Filpini king had ever managed before. Rumpo had always loved the stories about how the king and his great general Alikan had marched an army a hundred thousand strong into the Noori’s lands, and there defeated the Noori army in the greatest battle the world had ever seen. The siege of Noori Vale’s capital city had been long and hard, but in the end the gates had been broken down and the hippos had marched into the fabled stronghold of the Noori.

But the hippos’ reign over the Noori had lasted less than twenty years. The Noori had gathered again, and when they somehow managed to form an alliance with the fierce Oronkili, the great axe trolls of the north, the Filpini army suffered a devastating defeat. Both the king and general Alikan were slain, and only a fraction of the once so great army had managed to make its way south to Hogbar. Some of the hippozones were still manned for some years after that, but in the end they were all abandoned.

By now it was well over a hundred years since any of the hippozones had been inhabited. No hippo, save Nauru and his troop, had even ventured into Noori territory since then. They knew nothing of the Noori’s strength of arms or the number of watchzones in use. And now he was to lead three hundred soldiers, plus about a hundred other workers into the enemy’s lands. All their lives were his responsibility.

A fine day for a walk, eh?

Rumpo blinked. He had been so occupied by his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed the other man’s approach. Captain Anadun smiled at him, obviously very happy that he had caught his commander off guard. Rumpo didn’t mind. Anadun was a good friend who always kept his spirits up, even in the morning after a long night’s drinking. Judging from the captain’s red eyes, last night had been one of those.

Took your leave of the tavern last night, did you? he asked with a smile of his own.

Anadun’s grin broadened. I doubt we’ll be welcome at the Noori’s inns, and even if we were their ale would probably taste like horse piss.

Rumpo burst out laughing. It was good to have Anadun with him on this mission. Not only was he popular among the soldiers but also an excellent swordsman. Rumpo’s weapon of choice was also the sword, and no one in the whole Filpini army was considered his match. Some people claimed that not even Nauru had been as great a swordsman as he was, but Rumpo doubted there was any truth in that.

Why do you think they drink it if it’s that crappy? he asked Anadun innocently.

The captain shrugged. Probably because their women are so damn ugly they can’t bear to look at them when they’re sober. And because they’re drunk all the time no one has the sense to produce better ale.

Rumpo laughed again. Perhaps we should drop a few kegs of ours off at the nearest watchzone. So they can taste real ale for once.

Anadun snorted. That would be a bloody waste. Their senses are probably so dulled by their foul brew they can’t appreciate good stuff. No, Commander, you’d better leave those casks to one of your trusted captains. May I suggest….

A good idea, Rumpo interrupted. I’ll see if Herotis can take care of them.

Anadun looked disappointed. Whatever you say, Commander.

How’s the mood among the soldiers?

Good enough, Anadun replied. Most of them seem a bit nervous, but who can blame them? None of us have ever seen a Noori, much less faced one in battle. They try to tell each other jokes and boast about how many they will slay, but you can see the fear in their eyes. I think it’ll be better once we’re on our way, though.

I hope you’re right. Rumpo sighed. I’m not entirely sure about my own feelings.

None of us are, Commander, Anadun said. We know how to hunt thugs and troublemakers, and even how to bring down a small rebellion whenever some fool lord loses his wits. But facing enemy soldiers in battle? That’s something none of us has done yet and we don’t know if we’re good at it.

That’s true, Rumpo agreed. But we’ve done all we can. We’ve drilled our men every day for the last six months, and some have been in the army much longer than the two of us. The officers have been put to studying battle tactics, everything we have in our old scrolls. Some of them were written by Alikan himself. We should be prepared to face the Noori. But there’s still doubt in my heart.

Aye. Anadun nodded, making his helmet tilt a little. Reading about battles is one thing, fighting them is quite another. Was it not Alikan who wrote that? Or perhaps it was king Barloman. I can’t remember….

Don’t bother, Rumpo said. I must see to some things, if this flock of geese is to have any chance of getting out of here today. You should check on your men too, Captain. We’ll have time to talk once we’re on the march.

Anadun saluted, and Rumpo turned and strode across the courtyard. The sun had climbed more than half the way to its noon peak. It was a pleasant spring morning. The air was cool and fresh, not a single cloud was to be found above the city. It would be a fine day for a good march, if they ever got on their way.

He approached the assembly of huge carts and wagons that would carry all the wood and stone they were to use for the reconstruction of the hippozones. Adding the ones carrying food, water and other supplies, they made up quite a procession. Each wagon would be pulled by a pair of strong horses, and Anadun had joked about the road north being renamed the Road of Dung after they’d travelled it.

Rumpo moved back and forth among the wagons until he found a man who stood and barked orders to a bunch of workers loading large blocks of stone onto a huge wooden cart. Herotis was another of his captains. He was older and a bit heavier built than Anadun, with a level temper and a recognized talent for strategic thinking. A good friend and a good soldier, another one Rumpo was happy to have with him on this mission. He hailed Herotis cheerfully.

Good morning, Captain!

A good morning to you too, Commander, Herotis replied. How are things proceeding?

Slowly, Rumpo grumbled, but then he smiled. Anadun has a hangover. I haven’t spoken to Bil Basoka yet. What about you and your men?

Herotis turned back to the hippos loading the cart. Slowly here as well. Those useless louts seem to be half-asleep. I suspect most of them spent last night at the same tavern Anadun did. He shouted something at them in a harsh voice.

Rumpo studied the carts. Are you sure we can get those things across the mountains?

Herotis frowned. You heard Aridian’s report yourself, Commander. The roads are supposed to be broad enough, and at this time of the year they should be dry. We have selected the strongest horses in the area to pull them. It’ll be slow, but we’ll manage it.

Rumpo nodded. The matter of how to get the heavily laden carts across the mountains bordering the Noori’s country had been one of the most debated during the planning of the mission. In the end they’d decided to send out a company of scouts led by the swift lieutenant Aridian to explore the area, and they’d brought back optimistic reports. The roads leading up into the mountains were of good quality, broad enough for even the largest of the wagons and never excessively steep. Even my old grandmother could have climbed them. Aridian had said with a broad grin.

Anyway, we don’t have much choice, do we? Herotis added.

The captain was right, of course. They had considered going by ship, but had soon given up that idea. Even if they’d used every fishing boat in the country they would have had to sail back and forth several times to ship this amount of people and goods to their destination. More importantly, they knew of no place where their ships could land. The only harbours the maps showed were or had been inhabited by the Noori. Also, they would still have had a long way to travel from the coast to the place where the hippozones were supposed to be. No, this was the only way, and it had to work.

No, we don’t, Rumpo said. We abandoned the idea of finding what we need once we arrived at the hippozones early on. I suppose we might be able to cut enough wood there, but it’d take a lot of time, and there’s no way we’ll be able to quarry all the stone we need. We have to get the carts and wagons across.

We’ll get them across, Herotis mumbled. Somehow, we will.

Rumpo hoped he was right. He trusted Aridian’s judgment, even if he’d never met the scout’s grandmother. It was just so easy to fall into uncertainty when you saw the heaps of heavy stone bricks loaded onto the carts. He felt genuinely sorry for the poor beasts having to pull a load like that for the spirits alone knew how many days.

The first part of the journey would be easy enough. The column would spend several days travelling north through Filpini and the empty grasslands of Sim. Their progress would be slow, but Rumpo didn’t expect any trouble until they reached the mountains. And after that the real trial would begin.

He had studied all the maps of the area surrounding Noori Vale that could be found in Filpini. All of them were old, fashioned back in the days of king Barloman, some even older. The mountains, rivers, lakes and forests would most likely still be there, but the Noori watchzones marked with red could have been torn down and rebuilt many times since those maps were made. If they were unlucky they could march straight into their enemies’ hands before their work had even begun.

Perhaps we should have sent scouts all the way up there, he murmured to himself.

Herotis cocked his head slightly. What, Commander?

Oh, nothing. Just wondering if we could have prepared ourselves better. Sent people to explore the area we’re going to and such.

That must have been up for discussion during the planning, the captain said.

It was. Rumpo tried to remember why they’d decided against it. The king was afraid they wouldn’t come back. Reminded us of what happened to Nauru when he tried to bring a small company into that land.

And our scouts will easily manage to survey the land ahead of us. Aridian has picked the very best we have.

I know. Rumpo shrugged, then managed a little smile. The hardest part will probably be to get everyone out of this yard. The rest will be a walk in the park.

This was the first party to leave Hogbar, but it would not be the last. The carts and wagons were to return immediately to be reloaded with more wood and stone. This had put Rumpo and his officers in another dilemma. They needed to provide this second caravan with a strong guard in case they ran into a company of Noori on the way, but the soldiers were also needed to stand guard while they rebuilt the ancient fortresses. No matter how they decided to divide their force there’d be one group that didn’t get the protection Rumpo wanted it to have.

Once every third month a new convoy would travel to the hippozones, bringing provisions, tools and other goods that Rumpo and his people needed. Reinforcements would arrive only when requested. A strong guard would have to follow those caravans as well. If the shipments did not arrive they’d have to endure long weeks without their food supply being filled up. That meant that they would have to hunt for meat, and it would be no easy task to feed such a great number of people on what the wilderness could yield.

May I have a word with you, Commander?

Rumpo turned to see Bil Basoka standing a few paces away. Bil Basoka was the third of the captains assigned to follow him on this mission. A man of few words, he was feared rather than liked among the soldiers. His weapon of choice was the throwing knife, and it was said his knives could find an enemy’s eye from a distance of thirty paces. The fact that he always wore a dreadful mask while fighting added even more to his reputation.

What is it, Captain? Rumpo asked.

The king wants to see you, Basoka replied. In the throne room.

I’ll be there in a minute. Turning back to Herotis, Rumpo gestured towards the half-loaded carts. Those monstrosities must be ready by noon, Captain. Best of luck.

Thanks. I’m bloody well going to need it, Herotis mumbled, then resumed his shouting of orders with renewed fervour.

Rumpo spun around and began walking towards the palace’s main building. He had hoped the king would see them all off in person, but it appeared all the noise and bustle in the courtyard had scared him off. Rumpo didn’t blame him. His father had always been a cautious man, never accounted a great warrior but with a good heart and a good deal of wisdom. During the planning of this mission he had come up with many sensible ideas that some of the more hot-tempered officers and nobles never would have thought of.

As he strode through the palace corridors Rumpo remembered the last time a company of Filpini warriors had been sent into the Noori’s lands. He had been just a child back then and by accident stumbled into a conversation between his grandfather, who was king back then, and Nauru. He wondered if his mission would end the same way Nauru’s did. The thought made him suppress a slight shiver.

The throne room was empty save for the king, the same way it had been that time almost twenty years ago. Only this time Rumpo didn’t stumble in through a back door, but entered the great hall through the main entrance. He hailed his father as cheerfully as he could manage.

I’m glad I got a chance to speak to you before you leave, Rumpo, king Pelyas said in a sombre voice.

I thought you were going to make an official leave-taking at the gates.

The king snorted. And tell the soldiers a bunch of lies about how invincible they are? I would do them no favour by that.

True, Rumpo agreed. Better that they’re prepared for what they’ll face. It will be a dangerous mission.

"Very dangerous, his father replied. We can’t afford another failure. Nauru was a great warrior, but he never came back from his journey. We don’t know what happened to him and his troop, whether they were taken by surprise and slain or if they were besieged in the hippozones and starved to death. You must be prepared for anything, my son."

I know, Rumpo said. Our chances are better now than they were back then. We’re well organized, and if the supply trains will reach us as we’ve planned we’ll have all the provisions we need.

The supply trains will still be vulnerable, no matter how strong the escorts we send with them.

I’m aware of the risks, Rumpo said. But if the maps are accurate the main hippozone lies between the Noori watchzones and the wilderness to the south. Our patrols will be able to spot any patrol strong enough to pose a threat.

I hope you are right. The king sighed. He was silent for a while before he continued. There is another matter, one I haven’t mentioned before.

Rumpo blinked. What would that be, father?

I have never spoken to you about this, but when Nauru left Filpini my father, king Mardius, gave him the sacred medallion of our people. I don’t know if the legends surrounding it hold any truth, but what I know is that I am the first king of Filpini who hasn’t worn it, and that the kingdom of Filpini has never been conquered while there was a king with the medallion in his possession. I don’t want to be the one losing the ancient realm of our fathers, not if there’s any way I can avoid it.

Rumpo nodded. Legend told that the sacred medallion had been brought to Filpini by the first hippos coming across the sea. The founder of the kingdom, the legendary king Flidsi, had foretold that the fate of the hippos was bound to the medallion, and since then every king of Filpini had worn it with greater reverence than the crown upon their heads.

I’ll see what I can do, but I doubt there’s any possibility I’ll be able to find it. If Nauru wore it when he was slain the Noori must have taken it. If he lost it before that, the chances of me finding it are even poorer. Many years have passed since Nauru was lost.

I know, the king said, looking down at the floor. But as long as there’s a chance I’ll continue to hope. The medallion has never fallen into the Noori’s hands. Search for it as much as you can, and never give up hope.

I’ll do that, father.

The king looked up at his son with a bitter smile. It’s time for you to be on your way. I wish you the best of luck, and may the spirits protect you.

Rumpo bowed. Good-bye, father.

Herotis’s shouting must have worked wonders, for when Rumpo returned to the courtyard the column of wagons was almost ready to depart. Soldiers in shining armour lined the procession, armed with swords, spears and axes and with bright shields on their backs. He saw Herotis inspecting a cart loaded with barrels that probably contained salted meat or fish.

Rumpo spent some time watching the final preparations before moving on to the head of the column. There he found lieutenant Aridian, leader of the scouts, talking to a slim, young woman with bright blue eyes. He raised his hand in greeting when he saw Rumpo approach.

Blow the horns, Aridian. It’s time to be on our way.

Aye, Commander, the scout replied. He turned and shouted an order at someone behind him.

A few moments later the sounding of horns filled Rumpo’s ears. The sound echoed off the walls and filled the courtyard with its haunting tune. The hippos’ cheering was drowned by the deafening blast. Then the sound died, and Rumpo ordered the column forward.

The gates were open, and Rumpo led the march out into the city of Hogbar. Behind him he could hear the creaking sound as the carts and wagons lurched into motion. He had to keep his strides short to avoid leaving the train behind. No matter how eager he and many of the soldiers were to put as much distance as possible behind them before dusk, they would have to match their pace to the slow progress of the wagons.

The caravan crossed the great plaza that lay outside the royal palace, the horses’ hooves clattering on the paved stones. A great number of spectators had gathered to see the company depart. Rumpo saw small children running about shouting in excited voices as well as old women carrying baskets of fruit or bread.

When the procession entered the street at the other side of the square he saw that it was lined with people as far as he could see. Shopkeepers tried in vain to sell their merchandise to the milling people, but all the attention was fixed on the long column of wagons passing by at a slow but steady pace.

Cheerful roars were heard some way back along the column. At first Rumpo wondered what the cause might be, but then he noticed with a smile that they were just passing one of the city’s most popular taverns. Obviously Anadun and his comrades had noticed it as well and were shouting bawdy things at the tavern maids who’d gathered outside to watch the wagon train pass. He heard some of them answer, bringing gales of laughter from the soldiers. Rumpo wondered if Anadun had brought any of his little friends with him, masquerading as serving women of some sort. He decided he’d be better off not knowing.

It took them almost an hour to reach the city gates. Double rows of guardsmen lined the road on both sides, their shields and armour shining in the midday sun. Rumpo ordered his heralds to sound the horns once more as they passed through the arched opening in the city wall.

Outside, a road made of packed dirt led westwards across the Filpini countryside. Occasional farms could be seen among small groves and rolling hills. Cows and sheep were grazing on both sides of the road, enjoying the fresh spring grass. Some of them looked up when they heard the noise from the passing caravan, but they soon decided the grass was much more interesting and continued their munching. Soon they’d forgotten all about the travellers.

After about two hours’ journey they reached the place where the road from the south crossed the one they had been travelling so far. It was the road that connected Apo and the other coastal towns and fishing villages of the south with the more densely populated area around Hogbar. This was not the way they were going, though. Instead Rumpo led the company north, along the road leading to the vast grasslands of Sim and beyond them to the mountains that formed the border to the land of the Noori.

It was a pleasant journey. The sun was behind them, warming their backs as they passed through villages and towns of various sizes, with farmlands and small groves of elm and beech between them. Their arrival usually earned a lot of attention among the villagers. It wasn’t often a company of soldiers this large was on the march in Filpini these days. Enthusiastic groups of children sometimes followed them as far as a mile after they’d left the village behind, staring at the soldiers and wagons with eyes glittering with excitement. Some of the soldiers waved and said a few words to the spectators, and made sure to whistle if there was a pretty girl among them.

They had to search for a while before they found a place large enough to make camp, but just as darkness fell over the land Aridian came back announcing there was a field with nice, short grass not far ahead, and Rumpo commanded his officers to make sure everything was made ready for the night.

The carts and wagons were dragged off the road and put under guard. Rumpo didn’t expect any trouble with bandits, not with this many soldiers about, but some extra precaution didn’t hurt. A strong and watchful guard might mean the difference between life and death where they were going.

The night passed calmly. The officers slept in tents, while the soldiers and other workers laid out their blankets under the wagons or beneath the open sky. Some sang a little before going to sleep. Rumpo noticed, as he went for a walk among the campfires, that they often were songs about ancient battles and heroic deeds. He smiled when he heard the story about how the hippos had conquered Noori Vale and made the Noori their servants.

Planning ahead, are they?

Herotis stepped up beside him, regarding the singers with a slight frown. Rumpo put a hand on the stocky man’s shoulder.

Let them sing, Herotis. They might have a few odd ideas about what a glorious and exciting adventure this will be, but I doubt anyone’s foolish enough to think we’ll conquer the whole Noori Vale with this host. We’ll need all the help we can get to keep their spirits up once things start getting rough.

True, the captain said, then he smiled too. Have you heard the song Anadun’s made about the Noori king who went blindfolded into the barn, and thought it was a brothel? Good rhyming, it had. Very good.

Rumpo laughed. No, I seem to have missed that. Care to inform me?

The other man shook his head. I’ll leave that to the composer. I don’t think my voice would do it justice.

Oh, really?

Really.

They set off through the camp in search of Anadun’s campfire.

***

On the third day they reached the part of the country called the Hook. It was an area of tall ridges, covered with fir and pine. The largest ridge was formed like a hook, encompassing a beautiful valley with many small tarns and brooks. Small villages lay scattered across the valley, their people living as hunters, fishermen and woodcutters. The men and women from this area were usually hardy and skilled in the crafts of the forest. Those who came to the army often ended up as scouts and foragers: swift, sure-footed and tireless.

It required some extra time and effort to get the caravan across the ridge. Rumpo suspected they looked like some odd snake wriggling its way up the slope. The road was a little narrower this far north, but still dry and even. Only a few of the heavier wagons caused a little trouble, but nothing the skilled drivers couldn’t solve. When afternoon slowly turned into evening the last cart passed the crest and began the descent on the other side.

Late that night Rumpo was disturbed by a noise not far from his tent. He’d just been about to fall asleep when loud voices snatched him back. It sounded like a brawl was going on right outside, and other hippos had been awakened and shouted for silence. He left his tent and went out into the night.

It didn’t take him long to find the source of the disturbance. Two young men were arguing loudly, and as Rumpo approached one pushed the other so he fell, landing on someone who’d made a brave attempt at sleeping despite the noise. This brought about even more commotion and loud arguing, as the hippo who’d fallen appeared to blame the entire thing on the one he’d fallen on. A blow or two were exchanged, and then the troublemaker attempted escape, but tripped over another body and stumbled straight into Rumpo. He cursed loudly and looked up.

Oh, shit, he hissed. Commander, I can exp…

Rumpo pushed him away, filled with disgust. Save me your explanations, man. Don’t you think I smell the alcohol on your breath? What do you think this is, Spring Festival? You’ve misunderstood the purpose of this mission completely if you think you can get drunk and mess about like this. What’s your name, soldier?

The young man swayed slightly where he stood.

Semuel, sir. And no, I don’t think this is a festival. Beg your forgiveness, sir.

Rumpo glared at him, still furious.

Off to bed with you, and don’t let me catch you like this again. This is a formal warning. You may not understand the extent of that in the state you’re in, but hopefully you’ll remember it when you wake up tomorrow. Tomorrow’s march will be hard, and even more so for someone with a hangover. Now, out of my sight!

He turned and strode back to his tent.

Well, he thought. I should have expected things like this to happen, and I suppose it’s better they happen now while we’re still in Filpini. Hopefully word of this will spread among the soldiers and keep them from repeating Semuel’s mistake. He kicked at a small pile of dirt before creeping back into his tent.

Ah, the joys of being a commander, he thought before drifting off