John Ringo: Kildar

There was a small open area at the top of the slope and Vadim got out to open the gates. Mike got out as well to take a look around. From the spot it was possible to look across the entire valley and Mike realized it was much larger than he’d thought the night before, at least five miles long and a couple of miles across. There were four smaller valleys running into it, including the one that held Alerrso. Their streams, which were lined by trees in most places, joined in the basin and then drained down the road he’d approached on. The valley was mostly flat with a few small hills towards the northeast end with the road approaching from the northwest and running along a slightly elevated track on the west side. The homes of the Keldara were clustered on the south side near the town and directly across from the caravanserai.

Besides the villagers, who looked like ants from his elevated position, there were cattle and horses that had been turned out to look for browse. There were clearly distinguishable fields as well, most of them separated by stone fences. Mike guessed that the soil of the valley would be rather stony but it might be rich; the rivers running down to it would bring a heavy load of soil with each spring flood. He could tell where the flood plains were and he realized that the Keldara homes were drawn well up above them.

He saw a flash of red hair on one of the playing children but even with the small binoculars from his jump bag he couldn’t tell if it was the spectacular redhead he’d picked up. He used the binoculars to examine the area more carefully, especially the Keldara homes.

There seemed to be six distinct groups with about three houses and a barn or two to each. The barns were joined to the houses by low stone walls and there were a few covered walkways. The area around each of the houses had been plowed and shoveled carefully but it was the layout of the houses that bothered him. After a moment he realized what he was looking at; each of the separate groups had interlocking fields of fire between the houses.

Most of the houses were built into the side of the hill and from them the Keldara could lay down a withering fire on any enemy approaching from the valley. The thick stone walls and small windows made each house into a sort of bunker. They’d be vulnerable to artillery or mortar fire, or an attack from the south. But looking at that steep hillside and thinking about getting to it, Mike could understand why it would be ignored as a threat.

For that matter, there was a small drop-off between the houses and the valley that was hard to recognize at this angle. It might be natural but it had the look of something that had been built. Put a palisade on it and any attacker would be hard pressed to get to the houses from the valley at all. There were three breaks in the bluff, which he was sure was manmade, one running to the road, but dipping down to the valley first, and the other two to the fields. There might be a fourth, it was hard to tell from his angle, running east towards the southeast valley. The one that went to the road had a large stone fence running parallel to it that conceivably could have been a defensive wall at one point. Up above all of the houses, with a narrow track that might once have been a road, was an open bench that had rocks stacked on it that looked like old foundations.

“Seen enough?” Vadim asked from behind him.

Mike had heard him crunching through the snow so he wasn’t startled.

“Pretty valley,” was all he said.

“There used to be tigers in the mountains,” Vadim replied, clearly disappointed that he hadn’t surprised the former SEAL. “Or so it is said. The Keldara were called the Tigers of the Valley back then and it was the job of one of the Keldara to go out each year and kill a tiger. You can still see some of the skins around in the homes.”

“Interesting layout,” he said, putting the binoculars away. “Are the Keldara armed?”

“They have a few old guns,” the policeman said. “About five if I remember correctly. None automatic. Bolt action rifles from the Great Patriotic War that a few of the men were allowed to bring home. They do some hunting with them. Why?”

“You said the Chechens sometimes attack farms,” Mike said, turning to walk through the gate and putting his binoculars back in the jump bag. “I was wondering if they’d ever been attacked.”

“Once,” Vadim admitted. “But the Chechens had driven off by the time we got there. They lost a cow and one girl that the damned Islamics carried off.”

“Driven away or been driven off?” Mike asked as they walked up to the caravanserai. There was a broad, flagged, courtyard beyond the gates with a fountain in the middle and gardens to either side. The main door had steps running up to it and a covered portico that was only lightly dusted with snow. On the north side the curtain wall ran close to the house with what appeared to be a graveled drive running between the two. Beyond the garden on the south side was a large yard that was heavily overgrown with weeds and even small trees. There was also a high wall on that side that extended out towards the yard; he couldn’t see what was beyond it.

The ground floor of the house was about six thousand square feet or more from what Mike could see and while there were windows they were mostly small and deeply set. Too small for a person to climb in or out. The ground floor would be dark as hell. The second and third floors, however, had numerous windows, although most of the ones on the south side had decorative bars over them. On the sides the smaller second story gave on to a balcony, while in the center a domelike structure rose from the lower floor. The dome had numerous small openings on the side so there would probably be good light under it.

“Half and half,” Vadim answered, negotiating the lock on the front door. The door was about ten feet high and made of heavy wood. “The Keldara said that they’d killed at least one of the attackers but there was no body. They’d pulled into their houses as soon as the Chechens were sighted driving down the road. The girl had apparently been out picking berries and couldn’t make it back to the houses in time. The Chechens drove in, took fire from the houses, grabbed the girl and a cow and drove off.”

Mike thought about driving into that open area in front of the houses and what even five rifles, well handled, could do and nodded.

The main door led to a hallway with another heavy door at the end. The floor was tiled in what looked like marble, some of it cracked and all of it worn. Mike noted that the walls were still stone and that there were a few windows with shutters on them that could look into the rooms beyond. The word “murderholes” came to mind; the long, dark antechamber was intended for defense of the house from an attacker. There were coat hooks by the far door, which Mike and Vadim ignored; the house was as cold as the outside if not colder.

The foyer beyond was, in fact, well lit. It was high celinged and between large windows on the west side and lightwells on the east the room could be clearly examined. It was about sixty feet square with the ceiling held up by flying buttresses. The floor was more marble while the walls were dark wood paneling. Directly across from the door was a huge fireplace with a setting around it including a few chairs and an antique sofa.

“There is a large dining room that way,” Vadim said, pointing north through an arched opening, “and a massive kitchen adjoining it. My wife hated that kitchen but there’s a smaller one on the second floor. There are two layers of cellars. Maybe more; that’s as far as I got. There’s a bunch of rubbish left down there from when the Soviets had it. There are two small bathrooms in the living areas down here and a few rooms for general use, but take a look at this.”