For King and Country

Page 1

Copyright 2014 by T.L. Smythe. All rights reserved worldwide.

No part of this publication may be replicated, redistributed, or given away in any form without

the prior written consent of the author/publisher or the terms relayed to you herein.

T.L. Smythe http://thedianorchronicles.blogspot.com/

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Contents Prologue ........................................................................................................................................... 3

Chapter One - Enlisting .................................................................................................................... 4

Chapter Two - Training................................................................................................................... 10

Chapter Three - Pursuing ............................................................................................................... 23

Chapter Four - Preparing ............................................................................................................... 29

Chapter Five - Reconnoitering ....................................................................................................... 35

Chapter Six - Advancing ................................................................................................................. 41

Chapter Seven - Defending ............................................................................................................ 51

Chapter Eight - Retreating ............................................................................................................. 60

Chapter Nine - Healing ................................................................................................................... 69

Chapter Ten - Interviewing ............................................................................................................ 76

Chapter Eleven - Languishing ......................................................................................................... 82

Chapter Twelve - Escaping ............................................................................................................. 88

Chapter Thirteen - Parting ............................................................................................................. 96

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Prologue

I am a simple soldier

I am not the strongest man, nor the fastest. I am not the best with the sword or the bow. I am

not the quickest to get the point or the wittiest with a retort. I can lift a great weight, run fast, spar with

a sword, hunt with a bow, laugh at a jest and respond with a pun. I am not the best or brightest or

fastest or smartest or most flippant. Yet I do well in all areas.

Not being the best keeps me humble and inspires me to strive for better. While being amongst

the best gives me the confidence to always push forward.

I joined the Kings Army directly from the farm the day after Day of Majority rite. I was not driven

out for dishonest actions, nor did I run from abusive parents. I did not hunger for great adventure

though I did become restless in the tedium of a farmers life. In the end my choice was simple.

The King called and I answered.

This is my story.

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Chapter One - Enlisting

The King calls! The agent now sounded desperate.

I stopped in my tracks.

Yes, young man, the King needs men like you in his service to protect and defend Aronica, the

Agent realized that he had me now and followed up quickly. The brave, the strong and the loyal will all

be answering this call. Will you join them?

I wanted to answer no, leaving the village and the farm had always been in the back of my mind,

but I had never considered the Army. I wasnt so sure that I would find the lifestyle to my liking. Yet the

King called.

The Agent then walked me through the enlistment details. Minimum pay, but room and board

paid, as well as the uniforms being provided. But a 5 year term. 5 years was a long time! Still, the King

called.

Finally listening to another round of the agent emphasizing the benefits of joining the army, I

made up my mind. One of the main selling points was that I could choose my specialty and my posting

location. As I was to find out later, he lied through his teeth, smiling convincingly the entire time.

Before actually signing the binding contract, I went in search of my parents and my brother,

seeking their advice. My parents we outside the tavern on the tables set up for this event. They were

sharing news with farmers far enough away that we seldom had a chance to talk to. I managed to pull

them aside without too much trouble.

Mother, Father, I really wasnt sure how to break the news, I had never been away from

home for even so much as a day. I just talked to the Kings Agent, and with Dino getting the farm, I

think I would like to join the Kings Army.

My mother gave me a look of horror, as if I had just signed up to be a brigand. My father looked

at me with a combination of pride and concern. I could appreciate their apprehension; I know I felt more

than a little of that myself.

Are you sure, Nico? my mother asked. Im sure you can go back right now and tell him no.

Now Mother, my father said as firmly as Ive ever heard him talk to my mother. The boy is

soon to be a man; and he is correct, Dino will be inheriting the farm. We are going to have to let him go

sometime. I cant think of a better place than serving the King.

But it will be so far away, she was trying to hold onto me. And he will be away for so long.

5 years, I answered her unspoken question. But Ill have time to come visit. I promise I will!

Nico, my father said. You are a man now and you have to go live your own life. There would

be little enough for you here.

Between his pride in my decision and wanting me to go make the best life for myself and my

mothers obvious pain at letting go; I felt a well of love for my parents, the people who had so selflessly

raised me, making sure I food to eat, clothes to wear and as much happiness as could be found in this

life. The rush of feeling nearly made me decide not to join after all.

The look in my fathers eyes, however, told me that it was the correct decision and I needed to

make the best of the opportunity.

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A little later I managed to corner my brother in the tavern. At first he wasnt really listening to

me, but watching one of the young ladies flirting with him. After a couple sentences, he ripped his eyes

off the girl and focused totally on me. Although he was as uncomfortable with my choice as our parents

were, I could also see a sense of relief. We both knew that he was going to inherit the farm, and I think

he had been concerned as to what he was going to have to do with me, especially after he got married.

With my choice he would not have to worry about it anymore.

Nico, he started. You dont need to do this, there are plenty of girls around with no brothers

who need a man to run their fathers farm. And you can stay with me as long as you want.

We both know better than that, I appreciated both his desire for me to stay close and the

offer to live with him. You will soon have a family of your own, and I would just be the annoying

brother-in-law. And none of the girls around entice me, especially not with their greedy fathers, looking

for someone to dump the hard work on.

No, I continued. This is the best solution!

He argued with me for a little while longer, but his heart wasnt in it. I could tell he was

somewhat relieved he wouldnt have to add me to what was going to be an already difficult life.

I returned the Kings Agent, told him my choice and signed the document with my mark; and

then headed over to the celebration. Pulling my parents and brother aside, I told them that I had made

the decision and signed the document.

There were hugs all around and maybe a few tears. I wanted to say the tears were all my

mothers, but that wouldnt be quite true. As much as my father, brother and I tried to be tough and

strong, this was a huge moment in all of our lives.

The day before, I would have never believed my destiny would be with the Kings Army. I was

just the son of a simple farmer.

The ringing sounded off in the distance. Both Dino and I paused in our labors, dropped our tools

and raced for the house. Our farm wasnt very large, so we arrived at the house in mere minutes. The

small house looked worse for wear despite the hours that Father had spent on it. Since my brother and I

were now grown, we were able to help around the farm and give Mother and Father a chance to do

things like repair the house and plant a small garden.

Dinners on the sidebar, Mother said as we screeched to a halt in front of her. Plates are next

to them.

Dino and I elbowed our way through the door. We had good-naturedly been vying to be the

first to the food since we were little children. Dino was a year older than I was, but we were now pretty

close the same weight, height and strength.

Most of the people around us were small and wiry, stunted by years and generations of lack of

food and nutrition. Dino and I were exceptions. We were both over 6 feet tall and solidly built. Dino

always won the wrestling matches in the village, although I usually gave him a greater challenge.

Maybe we had some hulking ancestors and they just happened to pass down those traits to us.

However, both Dino and I suspect that Mother got extra food while she was pregnant with us. The only

way she could have had the extra food was if Father gave up a majority of his food. Knowing Father that

was exactly what he had done and he would do it again gladly.

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In addition, from a very young age, we hunted gophers, rabbits and other small creatures. The

meat we got from even these small morsels helped us build our strength and kept us healthy. We got so

good at hunting that we cleared the critters from our land and none would set foot on it. These animals

were nuisances to farmers, as they would eat the roots of the plants the farmers were trying to grow,

lessening their crop yield and most of the time getting them in trouble with the bully boys. Seeing how

good we were at trapping, our neighbors around us asked for us to help them, and we started trapping

for them. Usually we caught several during a hunt; the deal we always made with the farmers is that we

kept what we caught.

At one point Mother and Father pulled us aside and talked to us about the lack of food most of

those we hunted for had. They suggested that perhaps we should share our kills with the farmers, not

out of charity, but out of appreciation for the opportunity.

From that point on, we always gave the farmers half of our catch. The look of gratitude and

appreciation in the farmers eyes almost always made the reduction of our kills worthwhile. Although

the animals had little enough meat, it was usually the only source for us and the farmers we hunted for.

The addition of meat while growing up seemed to add to the extra food Mother had while

pregnant with us and we grew up tall and strong. Even into our teens and after we started doing the

hard labor of farming, we would go out at night after working all day and continue to hunt the

nuisances, both for their meat and to protect our crop. Father believed that the lack of rodents was one

of the primary reasons we never missed our taxation payments.

We reached the sidebar at about the same time. The roughhewn plant of wood had served as

the stage for serving meals for as long as I could remember. Smaller pieces of wood carved more or less

into a bowl and smoothed over with the many meals served in them served as our plates.

Dropping a piece of the coarse black bread into the bottom of the plate, we covered them in

the cabbage soup with a little of the meat we had caught the night before and some herbs Mother had

grown in her garden. The soup had been made in a cast iron pot, just about the only piece of metal we

own, and that had been passed down from generations before us.

We carried the plates out to the porch and joined Mother and Father, who had already served

themselves. Companionably we ate our meal together in silence, scooping up the delicious broth and

sopping it up with the bread. This was when Mother was the happiest, her husband and sons together

with her enjoying family time. All too soon it was over.

You boys finished the field yet? Father was always trying to keep informed on the progress we

were making. You never knew when the bully boys would stop by to pressure us to work harder, longer

and faster.

Almost done, two more rows, Dino answered. We should be finished in a couple hours.

Father grunted. There was always more work to be done; we would never actually be finished.

We might complete the weeding for the east field, but the west one would be waiting. We usually

completed one field only to have to start on the other. If there was any time in between we would be

using the yoke to haul water from the creek a half mile away, two buckets at a time.

We finished out food, everyone looking hopefully in their plate hoping for just a bit more food.

While the food was filling and kept us going, there was just never enough, we were always just a little bit

hungry.

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The local lord owned the land and demanded the majority of the crops from the lessees. Most

of the crops not taken via the local landlords levies were taken by the Kings share. This left a meager

amount of crops for the small farmers, usually just enough to survive on until the next harvest. Barely.

Our family had been luckier than most, we always managed to make our quotas and our lands

rarely suffered the hardships some of the other homesteads did. While this did not leave enough food

for prosperity, we rarely went without food. Although many of our meals still left us wanting more, we

truly never had the starvation that we saw some of the other families go through. In fact, although we

had little enough ourselves, often times I saw Mother sneak some small amount of food to particularly

needy neighbors.

As Dino and I reached our tools and resumed working, I considered the life here on the farm.

Most of our neighbors might have had a child or even two, but usually one or more of them either died

or ran away from the constant grind of being a very small homestead leased from the local lord. It was a

hard life and only the very hardiest or luckiest survived.

Yet despite all our hardships and difficulties, my parents, especially my father still revered the

King. From him, I learned to do the same, although my attitude towards the local noble was less

enthusiastic.

That night after our afternoon labors, we had finished our work on the east field and Dino

started working the west field, while I began carrying buckets of water to the east fields we had just

been working on.

So, are you looking forward to tomorrow? Dino asked me teasingly. Tomorrow was the date of

my majority, at least as it was celebrated in our area. Dino had gone through his last year and had spent

the next three days nursing a massive hangover. But he after the ceremony he was considered the legal

heir to the farm.

We had little free time or in fact energy to partake of more than work, meals and sleeping. Yet

once a month, we made an effort to visit the local village. There we met with friends, received news

from the outside world and generally found a way to lesson our burdens, at least for a short term. We

all looked forward to these visits, although the rest of the family seemed to enjoy themselves more than

I did.

My parents and Dino had developed relationships within the community. For the most part, I

remained detached and failed to build even one lasting friendship. Part of it was because, I knew deep

down that my place was not on the farm or even in the village and that at some point I would be leaving,

whereas my brother was destined to remain and be a part of it all.

The other part of my aloofness was just the sheer boredom. How many times can you talk

about crops, pigs and taxes? Dull, dull, dull. While I had no real desire to run off looking for adventure,

my thoughts and dreams were definitely focused on something far larger that the latest rainfall,

windstorm or nobles whim.

Once in a while a traveling troubadour would be in town and tell tales of far off lands, amazing

sights and glorious adventures. Again while none of these inspired me to hare off into the wild

unknown, it still proffered a large amount of material for my daydreams.

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Birthdays were seldom celebrated individually. The fact was that few families kept enough track

of the days to know on what exact day a child was born. Therefore the village usually had a common

day to celebrate all those whose birthday would have fallen within the previous year. Most of these get

togethers were small humble events.

However, one birthday was special for all and was held on a separate day than all the rest. This

was the Day of Majority, when all those whose 16th birthday fell within the last year. Marriages were

settled on that day. Inheritances were finalized and many other contracts involving those coming of age

were settled.

While several of the young ladies (and their fathers) cast their eyes on me, I was not interested

in the girls. They were all already weather beaten, with dirty faces and hair tangled in an unappealing

mess. Some would die in childbirth and the rest would live out their lives in desperate poverty,

watching their husband and children waste away under the constant hardship of eking out a meager

existence.

No, I had my sights set on the ladies in lace and finery from the bards tales, although I knew

deep down, I would probably never even come close to finding any such thing.

The one thing that was a guarantee during the Day of Majority celebration is that a Kings Agent

would be present, always trying to convince the young men recently come of age to join the Kings

Army. I had never really considered the Kings Army before, but the more the Agent talked the more

interested I became, although I was the only one showing any interest.

Live adventures, meet fine ladies and princesses, learn to fight with real weapons. Plenty of

food and new clothes. Never dig again. He hit all the things young men dream of becoming as well as

addressing all the things we most hated or feared. Join the Kings Army and live the life of a hero!

While it all sounded like a challenge to be met, and a ready escape from the life on the farm or

in the miserable little villages, in my life nothing was ever free or easy; and this sounded too good to be

true. I turned to walk away and back to my life on the farm.

Thats when the Agent made his final plea and I acquiesced

After making this decision about my future, I was able to throw myself into the celebration; I

was now 16 and considered an adult. The group that came to their majority celebrated with me and we

all have tankards of mead and wooden cups of rotgut wine. Theoretically, this was the first time any of

us had drank alcohol, although it was widely known that we all had sampled to greater or lesser degree

the adult beverage. Still with all the merriment, it was easy to drink to excess.

Most of us drank far more that we should have, and so the next morning was a time of moaning

and groaning for all of us. Of course, that was the very time the Kings Agent choose to demand I leave

with him. He waited impatiently while I exchange sorrowful partings with my family. I expected to

return someday, but there was no way I could predict when. My parents were not that old, but after the

hard life they led, they probably didnt have that long to live, and I would be gone for at least 5 years.

They and I both knew that this would probably be the last time we saw each other, so our parting had an

extra edge of sadness to it.

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Twenty minutes later I was in the back of the Agents wagon, with a pounding head and aching

heart. I was on my way to begin training to become a member of the Kings Army.

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Chapter Two - Training

My first introduction to the Kings Army was exiting the wagon with 3 separate drill sergeants

screaming orders, all contradictory and most impossible for me anyway. I could do pushups though, so I

did lots and lots of pushups, till my chest was sore and my arms were shaking with exhaustion. Just

when I knew that I couldnt do one single more, they screamed at me to get back on my feet. One of

them, Sergeant Skill seemed to take a special dislike to me and led me off on a 5 mile run culminating

with a sprint up Dead Mans Hill. The hill was 100 yards of rocky trail and scrub brush and felt like it was

nearly vertical. By the time I reached the top, my chest was heaving and I just couldnt seem to get

enough air in my lungs. I wanted to lie down and die.

Sergeant Skill had other plans. He was huffing a little as well but didnt seem to be sweating at

all. Off he led me back down the hill at a break neck pace. I actually fell twice, the second one sending

me tumbling the last twenty feet of the hill in a rolling ball of pain

The sergeant gave me no time to even take inventory of my scrapes, cuts and bruises; he had

me off again, following him on a sprint back to the barracks. This time he took a direct route and in less

than a mile we were entering the barracks parade ground. The sergeant a couple hundred yards ahead

of me and still looking fresh as a cut of flowers.

I was one of the last of this particular class of recruits to reach the training center from our

recruitment. Because of this, many of the others in the class had already formed into informal groups,

leaving me as an outsider. While that was alright with me, it didnt last long. The final recruits for the

class arrived the day after I did.

The trip to the camp had been long and boring. Although there were not many real roads; I

lived in northwest Aronica. It had been settled long enough to have a web of interconnecting paths

through the cultivated fields.

On the fourth day of the trip we reach the Running Woods. It was the first forest or heavily

wooded land I had ever seen. The forests in the area where I lived had long since been chopped down

to put in fields and farms.

Passing through the Running Woods into central Aronica on narrow, muddy dirt trails, we finally

reached the training camp, 25 or 30 miles from the capitol. It had taken nearly a week to reach it.

With the entire complement of the class finally at the training facility, our training began in

earnest. We were broken up into squads, 7 men to a squad, 4 squads to a platoon, and 4 platoons to a

company. There were just enough recruits to form a full company for this class.

There were four drill Sergeants, one for each platoon. The instructors assigned us to squads half-

hazardly. They also assigned random squad leaders. Over the course of the class, they generally rotated

squad leader assignments between the group members, although once in a while they kept one person

as squad leader for an extended period of time.

The training center turned out to be nothing more than a smallish barracks with a center

courtyard for drilling. In addition, there was a hilly forested area of 40 acres or so, with paths

throughout. The first two weeks was about building strength and endurance. The camp seemed to

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break down into 10 weeks of 2 week sessions. The first session was the most physically demanding of

the sessions we faced.

Early every morning we would run at least 5 miles, culminating with a sprint up Dead Mans Hill,

the 100 yard mound of rocky trails and scrub brush I faced when I first arrived. No matter how many

times we ran up it, the incline always felt like we were going straight up. Many of the recruits would end

up on the side of the trail, heaving, totally spent. Having been raised on a farm, doing hard work every

day, I did well; although I was not the fastest up the hill, or even close. I usually came in third or fourth,

but never failed to make it to the top amongst the leaders.

After a short break for breakfast, it was off to work in the forest, hauling logs, lifting them

overhead, and tossing them around. Again, my hard work on the farm paid off and I was amongst the

few who could handle some of the heavier loads, although, once again, I was only the third or fourth

strongest.

After another short break for a lunch, it was off to my personal favorite, the obstacle course.

While team work was encouraged, few chose to do so. My first couple passes, I also disdained from

working with others, and managed to do quite well, being strong, fit and agile. After the first couple

days, the course started changing and getting through it alone was more and more difficult.

After the obstacle course, we were given an hour for rest and to clean up, as much as anyone

bothered to clean up, usually we just all fell to the floor and tried to get some sleep. Finally we had an

evening meal.

When we finished our meal, we were broken up into platoons and the drill sergeant would

lecture us on proper military courtesy, formations and rules. This was where they began to mentally

break us down. If we recited a rule incorrectly, werent quick enough with a response, or failed to salute

properly or in a timely fashion, they were in our face, screaming at us; followed by pushups or sit ups.

Lots and lots of pushups and sit ups.

Finally we were allowed to get some sleep, although it was very late at night when this

happened. By the fourth day, we were all riding the ragged edge of complete physical, mental and

psychology exhaustion, and hatred for our instructors.

The one benefit to the camp was the food. Piles and piles of food. Many, if not most of us had

come from places where food was a scarcity. This sudden bounty of nourishment kept many in the

ranks who would have just as soon headed off on their own.

After the third day of running the obstacle course solo, I finally decided that attempting the

course alone was just crazy, so I began to look around to see if I could find a group of others who would

be willing to team up with me. It didnt take long for me to find candidates for my team.

Jabani was a huge man, a descendant from the barbarians that invaded and colonized Aronica

centuries before. Nicknamed Bull, he could lift far more weight than any other in the group, but on the

runs, he was always last and one of the one throwing up on the side of the trail going up Dead Mans

Hill. Despite his size, he may have been one of the most intelligent men in the group, although he was

also the most emotional.

He was in the platoon that usually ran the course right before my platoon, but I usually ended

up passing him between the first and second mile. He was already huffing and puffing by the time I

reached him. The first thing I noticed is that he was usually trying to keep up with other runners and

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when a faster runner passed him by, he would immediately speed up to try and keep up. He was able to

keep up for a couple hundred yards before having to fall back, sometimes all the way to a walk.

That fourth day, I paused next to him rather than racing by.

Try just keeping your own pace, and dont worry about anyone else, I told him.

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye.

Why do you care? he asked suspiciously.

Im just saying, that if you conserve your energy, you might make it up Dead Mans Hill, I

replied.

He shrugged and continued on, although he dropped into an energy conserving fast jog, ignoring

those that raced past him. I kept pace with him, trying to encourage him to maintain it.

Sure enough, when we reached the Hill, he was able to forge his way up it without stopping. At

the top, he faced me and gave me a quick salute before heading back down the hill. Again I kept pace

with him. Although my motives were selfish, I still felt a sense of having a new comrade.

At the end of the run I approached him about teaming up for the obstacle course. He agreed

although I could tell he was still somewhat wary of me.

Frail Kensey was another recruit. Short and scrawny, we all believed he was an orphaned

beggar from the port city of Rylee, and that the only reason he joined was for the ample amount of food

recruits received. Although he was small, he was also the quickest among the entire class, beating

everyone up Dead Mans Hill 9 times out of 10. Called Rabbit by everyone, he was well liked, but never

trusted. While not that smart, he was quite clever and quick witted. He had a habit of getting himself

into bad situations, but for the most part he was able to talk himself out of most of them.

There were some situations he was not able to talk himself out of. I came across him facing one

of the camp bullies, Despo, a large intimidating man with a temper to match. He was in the front of a

small group of his chosen gang, ruffians all.

Listen here you little squeaker, Ill crush you into little bits if I ever catch you sneaking around

here again. In fact, I should just do it now and save myself the trouble.

He approached Kensey, looming ominously over him. Without thinking, I stepped in and tried to

make the peace.

Hey now, theres no need for that, I said. Im sure whatever Kensey did, hell never do it

again. Hes learned his lesson.

Kensey nodded vigorously.

You should mind your own business, Despo was now talking to me. Or you might just be the

next one to be crunched!

I had seen bullies like him before. Show fear and hed leap in without a second thought.

Im sure the sergeant I just saw heading this way would love to send you on another

punishment detail, they seem to love to do that to you, I shot back at him.

Lucky for you then, Despo and his group had already done a couple punishment details. They

were not fun. But you better watch your back!

The group of them disappeared quickly.

Whew! Never thought Id be happy to see a sergeant, Kensey said with obvious relief in his

voice.

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There is no sergeant, I told him, my voice biting with the anger I felt in having gotten myself

into the situation. I lied to save your sorry ass.

Kensey stared at me incredulously, apparently he didnt think anyone but he lied. I turned and

stomped away, cursing my stupidity.

He chased me down, jogging up next to me.

So whyd you do it, he asked. Why did you step in to help me?

Not sure, I said, now just wanting to get rid of him. I didnt want to have to clean up the mess

he would have left behind.

I heard you talking to the big guy earlier, he suddenly said. You said you were trying to form a

team to run the obstacle course. You think I could join you?

I eyed him suspiciously. I was sure the only reason he wanted to join was because he wanted

protection, and I really didnt trust him. Still he was the fastest runner in the class, quick and agile. He

would definitely be an asset.

I reluctantly agreed and told him to meet Jabani and me later that evening to develop a

strategy.

Stepholo was large man, though not nearly as large as Jabani. He came from a village very

similar to one near my parents farm. He had been apprenticed to be a blacksmith there. An accident at

the forge several years ago had severely burned the left side of his face. While not grotesque, his

features certainly were not pleasant to look upon. His disfigurement caused him to be withdrawn and

sullen. His work with mechanical objects and tools was the best I have ever seen.

He always ate alone, sitting at the end of one of the long mess tables, his scars guaranteeing a

sphere of solitude around. During lunch, I approached him, my tray of food in hand.

Mind if I join you? I asked.

Suite yourself, he answered warily, turning his head so that the unburned side to his face was

the only side visible to me.

I sat and we ate, in an uneasy silence that just seemed to stretch on. Finally, apparently tired of

the uncomfortable atmosphere, he turned to me.

So, what do you really want? he asked.

Im trying to put together a team to run the obstacle course together. I told him.

Listen, he said bitterly. I dont need your pity or your team. Why would you want me

anyway?

I could care less about your little beauty mark, I was already frustrated with his bitterness,

You are strong, agile and a good runner. We could use you.

I was beginning to wonder if he was worth the trouble.

I think Im doing just fine on my own, he replied, although I thought I could detect a note of

wistfulness in his voice. So Ill just have to decline your offer.

Your choice, I wasnt sure he was going to be worth the trouble after all. But if you change

your mind, we are going to be meeting tonight behind the barracks to begin planning.

Finishing my meal, I got up and left. I had made my offer; it was up to him now.

Denabi and Brant were two non-descript men, who always finished in the middle of the pack on

every task. The Knife and Ghost were what they called themselves, although no one could figure exactly

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why, until one day when Denabi was pushed to the edge by another recruit, a knife appeared in his hand

as if by magic. The other man backed down and turned to leave, only to find Brant had somehow

materialized behind him. Needless to say, no one confronted either of the two from there on out.

The two of them sought me out during the evening meal.

We heard you were putting together a team for the obstacle course, Denabi said, getting right

down to business. We would like to be a part.

I was unsure of what to say. I already had three dysfunctional people gathered together and I

couldnt begin to imagine what these twos motives would be to join us.

Sorry, were full up, I was extremely wary of these two unknowns and their questionable

reputation.

You sure about that? Denabi did his magical knife trick. Im positive we would be invaluable.

I didnt doubt that they would be just that, but I wasnt sure at what cost.

In that case, I was leery about giving them an outright no, but I was determined not to be

intimidated into agreeing. Perhaps we have some room, but no knifing and no ghosting. One knife trick

or sneaking up on someone and we are done!

I turned to make sure I included Brant in that statement.

It was obvious that neither one of them wanted to agree, but whatever their motivations, they

seemed to be stronger than their unhappiness with the terms.

Agreed, said Denabi, and Brant gave a slight nod in agreement as well.

The final member was a medium height, dark haired man with dark, brooding features and the

quickest mouth Ive ever heard. It was said he could sell sand to a desert horseman. The rumor was

that he got in trouble with a governor of one of the larger cities and it was either marry the daughter or

join the Army. Because of this, we all called him Tavaro, after the great lover in Cassiums plays. I didnt

have to exactly approach him with an offer; rather he fell in with us.

Before Tavaro had joined us the rest of the group; the group 6 of us met behind one of the

barracks. As we began our strategy session, we heard some voices around the corner.

Well arent you just a pretty one? It was Jarke, another of the camp bullies. He wasnt as cruel

or vindictive as Despo, but he was still no one to be trifled with. Its going to be a long training camp; I

think perhaps we should get friendlier.

Im not that kind of guy, a voice answered back. Perhaps you should ask one of the sergeants,

although Id make sure and ask nicely.

This was followed by a smack and a small cry of pain.

While it was known to happen, relationships between men were taboo in almost all areas of

Aronica and my entire group held a certain abhorrence of it. Besides rape was also considered a

despicable, cowardly act.

The group was on its feet and headed towards the voice, I think without even realizing what it

was doing.

We found one of the most enigmatic members of the training class cowering down before Jarke

and a small group of his followers. No one knew what his real name was, but everyone call him Tavaro.

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When Jarke found the group of us facing him, he sneered. He obviously didnt want his appetite

for men to get out to the rest of the class, because he just shrugged and left, motioning his group to

follow him.

Tavaro got to his feet and faced us apprehensively, obviously anxious that we just might want to

finish what Jarke had been about to start.

I sighed deeply; we had just antagonized one of the more dangerous members of the training

camp. I hated to think where this would lead. But Jarke was an arseheads in general so I did not regret it.

Right was right.

Tavaro recognized that our stances were not threatening now that Jarke and his group had left

and relaxed some.

Knowing the inevitable, I offered him a spot on our team.

Why should I? He answered. Im doing just fine on my own.

Kensey of all people guffawed at him. Tavaro realized the ridiculousness of his statement and

flushed. Yet he did not back down.

Well besides this little incident, he said ruefully.

We are just getting together to run the obstacle course as a team, not a permanent group, I

told him, although I had the impression that Kensey, Denabi and Brant joined on the assumption that

our group we be one of a longer duration. And you are free to go your own way at any time. After all, I

see you have a ready group of friends to join. I know the last part was cruel, but I thought it well

earned.

Tavaro considered for about 5 seconds before finally agreeing, and we finally returned to our

strategy session.

A more disparate and motley crew as I ever seen or heard of, yet we worked well together.

Although we had little spare time during the day, we managed to get together just enough to develop a

strategy for the course for the next day.

The obstacle course was a variety of hurdles separated by 100 feet or so. Our strategy was that

Kensey would race ahead for each obstacle and set up to help the following team members. Once the

others got there, they would team up to help each other in order. Jabani would always be last, but he

when his greater strength would be the most effective, we would all just wait for him.

Kensey was best prepared for the course and could do it faster alone then with us. But he

agreed to give up a little speed on his own to help everyone make it through faster. Jabani was the most

problematic. As strong as he was, he lacked speed, agility and balance; though with the team work and

training he improved on all of that. The rest of us were somewhere between the two although we still

struggled.

The goal I expressed to them is that we would all improve our times (save Kensey) through

teamwork and lower the group time. We all agreed and after I outlined the basic strategy, Kensey and

Jabani started referring to me as Captain. It caught on with the rest of the group. One of the

instructors overheard them call me that and quickly pulled us aside to warn us that one of the enlisted

men being referred to as an officer would be a problem. I had no problem with that, but the group was

rebelled and simply shortened the name to Capum. We never heard another word about it.

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The first run through with our new strategy was an absolute and complete disaster and both the

Jabani and I failed to complete the course at all, the two of us ending us ending up on our ass at the

bottom of the one of the balance portions of the course, while the rest of the group finished near the

tail end of the class.

I assumed the group would be discouraged and want to disband, but instead they saw the

benefit of working together and were even more enthusiastic about continuing. Kensey most of all

surprised me in his desire to continue with us, but I found out later that he had been further threatened

by Despo, and felt our group would be just the backup he needed.

The next run at the course went much better with all of us finishing and everyone but Kensey

and me having improved times over solo attempts.

Over the next few days our times improved until we all were crossing the finish line at the top of

the class, with Kensey even coming in first despite having to slow down for us. The improved

performance increased the groups willingness to stay together. Slowly a camaraderie was building

between the group of us. While not my original intent, it was rewarding to have others to depend on

and even to be depended on by others.

This was especially apparent when Kensey finally had his showdown with Despo and his gang.

They caught him right after the evening meal, surrounding him in a place sergeants generally

didnt go, near the jakes about 50 feet in back of the barracks. Sergeants had their private outhouse.

We all had an unspoken agreement to keep track of Despo and Jarke. It did not have to be said that

they were a threat to us.

We were just finishing up our evening meal, when Brant ghosted up to us.

Just so you all know, he said. It looks like Despo and his thugs have someone surrounded

near the latrine ditch. It just might be our friend Kensey.

It didnt surprise me, although Kensey was generally very cautious, lately, feeling protected by

the rest of the group, he had started to become careless.

Our group got up from the table as if one and headed out the door to ensure that our

companion would not be beat too badly. I was surprised at the willingness of everyone to go to his

assistance without even a thought otherwise.

When we got to the latrine ditch, Despo already had Kensey grasped by the collar and was

pulling back a fist to hit him. Our group broke through the circle of men surrounding Despo and Kensey,

forming a line behind our group mate.

Despo hesitated, and then smiled grimly at us.

So, looks like your friends showed up to take part in your beating, he was grinning sadistically.

We are happy to oblige you all, Arent we boys?

The group surrounding us laughed cruelly. They were anticipating giving our group a thorough

beating. While they were only thugs, they were thugs who had been brawling their entire lives, and so

thought they would have the edge on us.

As they began to close in, I gave some orders to give us a better chance than fighting one on one

in small solitary matches. Although they outnumbered us two to one, I had hopes that we might be able

to at least hold our own.

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In the classes at night, it had been pounded into our heads that we were soldiers not warriors.

Soldiers fought together with a purpose and in support of each other, while warriors simply attacked on

their own, each looking out for themselves.

Circle up, support the men to your side, do not break ranks; if we lose, we lose together, if we

win, we win together. I said quietly to the men as the ring of men around us tightened.

When circle tightened enough, Despo himself attacked. As the nominal leader, his first rush was

at me. While I had never been in a real brawl, my brother and I had enough serious fights that I had a

clue as to what I was doing. I ducked down under his initial rush and used my palm to hit him; I used my

entire body weight and all the momentum I could muster. I placed the blow exactly where the two sides

of the ribcage connected right above his stomach. Dino had hit me like that once and not only had it

caused more pain than I thought I could bear, it also seemed like it had taken me three days to regain

my breath.

Whoosh! I could hear the wind rush from his lungs. He tried cry out in pain, but, with no air in

his lungs, nothing came out but an odd sounding gurgle. All he could do was turn away, staggering in

pain. Eventually he fell to his hands and knees gagging as he was trying to draw some air into his lungs.

As the rest of the gang tried to rush our group, much the same thing happened. I did not realize

what a tough, dangerous group we were. Denabi, thankfully, did not pull his knife, but he did use the

edge of his hand as he would if he actually did have a blade. I saw several men stagger away, holding

their neck or throat in agony. I dont think he killed anyone, but it was close.

Brant was ghosting from side to side, appearing to support one of our group with a well-placed

punch or kick to the knee. While I dont think he actually permanently lamed anyone, there were going

to be several men limping for the next few days.

Kensey fought dirty, kicking men in the groin or stiff fingered jabs to the kidney. Like Brant he

always did it in support of men in the group and not solo.

Stepholo and Jabani were the rocks of our group, taking on the attackers, absorbing blows,

dealing out punches and jabs, basically engaging our opponents long enough for their group mates to

come along and deal the blow that put the man out of the fight.

Tavaro was the lone trouble spot, he just didnt know where to be, although when faced with an

opponent he had nifty little moves that almost always made him victorious. As the battle wore on, I

joined him and shoulder to shoulder, we dealt out blow after blow.

The brawl lasted no more than five minutes. Around us Despos group of men were rolling

around on the ground, groaning in pain, some bleeding and none showing any more fight in them.

Jabani and Stepholo seemed fine; though they had each taken several blows, they had just shaken them

off. Denabi was holding the knife edge of his hand; apparently he didnt have much practice in hand to

hand combat. The only real injury was Tavaro who ended up with a bloody nose.

Brant was prowling around the group of beaten men, stopping occasionally to kick one in the

face, stomach or even groin. Apparently he was making a statement.

Out of the darkness surrounding us stepped a couple sergeants.

Freeze! Sergeant Skill shouted.

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Brant had his leg pulled back to give one final kick to the face of a man lying on the ground,

groaning in pain. He held off in delivering the blow, but made no effort to back away from his intended

victim.

Following the short brawl we all faced a long and painful punishment detail. Between the fight

and the resulting forced penance groups relationship seemed to cement into a companionship built on

trust and faith in the men in the group. I did pull Kensey aside and rebuke him for putting the rest of the

group in that position. He had never been part of a group before so he hung his head for a couple days,

but the rest of the men brought him out of it with their obvious disdain for the punishment detail.

Our group was made up of men from across the company, most from separate platoons and

none from the same squad. I assumed that once the obstacle course sessions were done, we would just

return to our old squads. I was quite pleased when, after our second run at the obstacle course, men

were shuffled around and the 7 of us ended up in the same squad, and I was named squad leader and

maintained that position through the rest of the camp. I was also pleased that no one in the group

objected to remaining as part of a group.

Sergeant Skill had left me alone since my first day. That was until I was made squad leader. At

that point he became a near constant in my life. Running me ragged, always on my case to be faster,

stronger and better prepared. He was especially this way during the nightly class sessions. Thinking and

staying alive to fight again, along with training were the primary points he taught about being a soldier.

Again and again, the sergeants drilled into us that bravery was all well and good, but we were soldiers,

not warriors. Warriors charged into battle looking to defeat their enemies alone, to gain glory for

themselves, reveling in the joy of battle. Soldiers fought to win battles and fought as a group,

supporting each other, using their brains as well as their brawn. In a battle between groups of warriors

and groups of soldiers, soldiers will always win as long as they maintain their discipline, even against

uneven odds.

After the first session, the nightly classes turned to battle prep subjects and squad leaders were

met in a different area where Sergeant Skill taught us about command structure, bivouacking, camp

security and guard detail scheduling. While it was simply basic military skills, it was new to me, as well

as most of the men in the class.

After the obstacle course and brawl, our squad grew tight, very tight together. Men like Kensey,

Denabi, and Brant and, to a lesser extent, Stepholo had never had someone they could trust to cover

their back before. The coming together as a team was amazing to watch. Kensey would never lose his

self-absorption; Tavaro would always chase the ladies; Stepholo would always shy away from people.

But for the duration of our group, we would stand together.

The second two week session of the camp was for drilling. And drill we did. For those two weeks

of training, all we did was march around in formation, turning left, then right then reverse march.

Although one of the sergeants told me in confidence that it was supposed to instill unit cohesion, we all

thought it was idiotic. Not once in my entire career was a battle won by marching better in lockstep

than the other guy.

Despite my cynicism of our drill exercises, the officers absolutely loved it. They were the ones

calling the marching orders and would compete against each other to see if one officers platoon could

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trap the others. We hardly ever saw any of the training facilitys officers except during this time. Even

the commanding officer came out to try his hand at marching. When this session was over, the

recruits threw a small, covert but heartfelt celebration.

It was during the next two week session that we began our weapons training. The basic

armaments of the Aronica Army were long swords, shields and dirks. This was often times

supplemented with pikes or bows, based on the expected opponent.

Our weapons training focused on the sword. Most of us knew nothing about swords, if fact, in

our squad Stepholo was the only one who had even held a sword, and he only had in order to mend

one.

Sergeant Tlar handed me 4 foot long sword. It had the normal hand grip that we would find on

the standard issue swords we would be given when we graduated, but the blade was wrapped in heavily

padded burlap. Upon being handed the sword, I nearly dropped. Based on the way the sergeants had all

handled the blade, I had thought it would be much lighter. From the exclamations going on around me,

it appeared nearly everyone else was similarly surprised.

Over the next two weeks we learned progressively how to grip and hold the sword, how to

stand with the sword, how to walk with the sword and how to dodge with the sword. While it all

seemed simple enough, without the techniques we were taught, the extra weight of the sword

absolutely would have thrown us off balance or caused us to lose control of the sword.

We practiced each of these things over and over, all day, every day, until holding, moving and

dodging became second nature.

The fourth session started with teaching us the striking points of the body, what they were,

where to find them and what the result would be. One of the primary exercises during this time was

called the measuring game. Facing an opponent, we would each attempt to measure the distance with

our sword to each of the striking points. Every opponent would be different, so we rotated opponents

among the rest of our platoons.

Of course there were accidents. It wasnt a surprise to me that most accidents involved either

Despo or Jarke being the offender, and Kensey, Tavaro or me being the offended.

On the third training day, Despo sparred with Stepholo, Tavaro and me. Despos chosen strike

was a slap to the side of the head with the flat of the blade. He was a big, extremely strong man, and

even the heavy long sword we used in practice, he easily handled.

He used his favorite blow against Stepholo, but Stepholo was just as strong if not stronger than

Despo and was easily able to deflect the blow up and over his head, and their match settled into the

typical sparring of a training session.

When Tavaro faced Despo, he was not expecting anything more than a normal sparing match

but Despo had other ideas. Im not sure what his inspiration was, but when they faced off, Despos blow

nearly knocked Tavaro unconscious. After helping Tavaro the side of the practice area, it was my turn to

face Despo.

Assuming the guard position with Despo, I carefully watched his eyes. Sure enough as soon as

we were set to engage in practice, he brought his sword around to aim a hard whack at my head. I had

been watching his exercises all along and noted the tell he had when he swung his sword for real; his

eyes tightened into an almost squint.

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As soon as I saw the squint. I ducked and lunged into him with the point of my sword directly at

his abdomen. His swing went right over my head, causing him to lose his balance and slightly spin away

from me. Because of this spin, I actually missed my target, which was probably a good thing as I

probably would have put my sword deep his belly, possibly killing him. As it was, the edge of my sword,

even wrapped and padded still scored a deep gash right along his ribcage. He was a big tough man, but

it was a vicious painful blow and he collapsed, screaming in pain.

All action in the courtyard instantly froze. Sergeant Tlar ran up and had a couple students take

Despo to the infirmary, while he stood and berated me long and loud. Although he was extremely irate

with me, I could see Sergeant Skill over his shoulder. He had a huge grin on his face, apparently enjoying

the fact that Despo got his just reward. Tlar finally ran down, running out of expletives, and assigned me

a punishment detail, one of the nastier details at that. Apparently the fact that Despo deserved it didnt

do much to minimize the penalty for injuring another recruit.

Although I had put an end to Despos terror spree, at least for the day, Jarke hadnt had his

chance yet. Jarke faced Kensey, Tavaro and Denabi. Jarkes favorite attack was a sweeping blow to the

thigh. It was never enough to seriously hurt anyone, but it could leave an extremely painful deep thigh

bruise. Kensey was quick enough to escape with a slightly bruised thigh but it was not a good day to be

Tavaro and he took another painful blow, this time to his thigh. He would walk with a painful limp for a

week.

I never had a chance to square off against Jarke, Denabi faced off with him before I had the

chance. When Jarke attempted to make the same type of painful mid-thigh on him as he did to Tavaro.

Denabi didnt waste time in pretending he was practicing the Distance Game, he simply brought his

sword down hard Jarkes forearm. Hard enough we actual heard the crack as the bone broke. Dropping

his sword. Denabi stepped right up into Jarkes chest, his knife magically in his hand and pressed against

Jarkes throat.

The courtyard froze again.

Freeze Denabi! Sergeant Tlars voice echoed across the courtyard.

Denabi stood for a second, blade pressed into Jarkes throat.

I dont play, he hissed at Jarke. Make sure when you make a move, you mean it.

Sorry, Sarge, Denabi shouted over his shoulder. Heat of the battle and all.

He took his knife away from Jarkes throat reversed it, and used the pummel to strike Jarke on

the bridge of his nose, right between his eyes. Jarkes nose broke and blood poured out all over the

courtyard. Denabi stepped away, casually replacing the knife in its sheath.

While Denabi had been facing Jarke, Jarkes followers had started to converge on them. Out of

nowhere, Brant appeared, waving his sword in warning. This caused the followers to pause, giving the

rest of my squad enough time to assume positions backing up Brant. Tension grew quickly as the two

groups faced off. Before the confrontation could go further, sergeants were in the middle of the court

yard, screaming orders, getting between the two parties, forcing them to break away from the face off.

The array of punishment details we received from these instances was breathtaking. We

literally were doing details through the rest of the training camp, and Im sure if the officers of the camp

could have had their way, we would have stayed there through another class cycle to finish them off.

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As for the squad, they seemed to relish the incidents and were constantly recalling the details as

if they were badges earned in honor. Every member of the squad now knew that no matter what, their

squad mates would always have their back.

The rest of the training camp flew by. We learned more about sword play, including strike

angles, guard stances, strikes out of parries, decisive attack sequences and pressure attacks. In addition,

we continued to work endlessly on footwork, balancing the sword, and strike points. For training we

were only given eight specific angles to use, which was designed to both protect the recruit like a

hexagonal star and offer consistent easily, taught strikes. The movement of a given strike was easy to

understand and learn, but it took perpetual training to perform that strike really well.

While we were mastering our weapons, Sergeant Skill was working me hard to make me the

best squad leader I could be. He managed to mention in the course of his instruction that both Despo

and Jarke were going to be held back a class and would have to repeat the entire course as soon as the

healed enough to do it. In addition, all the sergeants would keep a special eye on them the next time

they were in the training camp course.

That was good action in taking down Despo, He told me. It let your squad know you were

going to stand behind them, defending them no matter what the cost.

Thank you, I mumbled, a little guiltily, I had only been defending myself and hadnt even

thought about a statement for my squad.

Just remember, he continued. They took their signal to action from you. Denabi probably

would have defended himself, but not attacked in the way he did if not for your example. For that he

was punished. Yes, the squad stood behind him as well, but it was all based on your initial action.

I shrugged in confusion. I had never considered that I had that kind of influence with them.

Now that you have their faith and confidence, he was deadly serious. You have to consider

your every action. You are not acting just on your behalf; you are also acting on theirs. Make sure you

respect and honor that.

I think you have a great deal of potential as squad leader and eventually a sergeant, he was

finishing up with me. But you have to respect the power and responsibility of those positions. From

now your actions will have consequences. Always think of the impact of them on the men who trust

you.

Now I more than a little concerned. I didnt know how I gotten into this position. I had only

wanted to run the obstacle course faster and now I was the leader of men?

Finally we finished off the camp. The night after our final cleaning of the barracks and the

dismissal of the class we all went out to the taverns that clustered around the training center. We had

been notified that we were going to be sent on our first duty station in the morning, and that our squad

was going as a unit. We were to be assigned to the rolling plains of the sparsely populated eastern

kingdom. Apparently there were more Orc raiding parties than normal and help was needed chasing

them down and defending the farms and villages in that area. A Sergeant Milken would be taking us to

our station.

We all had way too much to drink, but managed to avoid getting into too much trouble, despite

it. The next morning we struggled to report to the morning formation, reporting to Sergeant Milken, but

eventually all of us were there, standing more or less in military form.

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Twenty minutes later with pounding heads, we were in the back of the Sergeants wagon; we

were on our way to begin pursuing enemies in the eastern plains.

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Chapter Three - Pursuing

Heavy smoke poured from the building, the putrid stench of burnt, rotting flesh hung heavy in

the air. Soldiers wandered around the village, collecting corpse and dragging them over to the common

grave we had dug earlier in the day. I sighed heavily; this was the third village in the last month to have

been hit like this.

Anger built in my chest and I stalked up to the officer in charge. We had been chasing this Orc

raiding party for the last three weeks, with no sign of ever having a chance of catching up with them.

The Orcs were riding worgs. Worgs were a type of wolf, large and savage; Orcs rode them into battle

and used them with devastating effect. While worgs couldnt travel long distances as quickly as horses

do, they certainly move faster than the marching pace that we were traveling at. We came across the

first village two weeks ago. At that village, we missed the Orc raiding party by a day. We were steadily

losing ground on them, now we were at least three days behind them.

We need to travel faster. You should be talking to command and getting us better

transportation, I was abrupt, with the junior office to the point of being insubordinate. He gave me a

dirty look, but couldnt refute my point.

As much as he loathed my statement, he couldnt deny that I was correct and he dispatched a

rider to the main command camp at the Wall. Meanwhile we kept marching after the raiding party,

finding a couple more overrun farms.

A new officer, Lieutenant Shome finally arrived with the horses, one for each of us; and our

current officer was instructed to report back to the main camp. None of us had ever ridden a horse

before; but Shome was looking to make a name for himself and was impatient to chase down the Orcs.

He at least allowed us to learn the basics of horseback riding. Finally we were able to at least sit in the

saddle.

Riding horses looked easy and simple while watching experienced horsemen riding a variety of

speeds, and making it look effortless as well.

On my first time on the horse, I was appalled at how high I was sitting. Looking down from the

saddle, it looked like an awfully long ways and that a fall would be fatal. No sooner had the thought

crossed my mind, the horse reared up and then I was looking up at the sky. None of the men in my

squad did much better, except for Tavaro, who had apparently ridden before. But he got overconfident

quickly got tossed from the saddle.

It took 3 long, painful days just to be able to sit in the saddle and canter along. Shome was

impatient to chase down the Orcs, but he at least allowed the sergeants to teach us the basics of

horseback riding. Luckily no one was injured although we all had bumps and bruises. Except for Tavaro

who landed in a thorn bush when he was thrown one time, resulting in a many deep bleeding scratches.

Immediately after Lieutenant Shome decided we were proficient enough to ride without falling

off our mounts, we headed out after the raiding party we had been following.

Worgs are faster and more nimble than horses in short distances, but horses are faster in a

straight line and have a lot more endurance. Even though the Orc party had a several days lead on us,

we were able to track them down. Unfortunately they had enough warning to vanish over the border

and into the Orc territories before we were able to engage them.

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The rolling plains at this point ran right up into the low hills of the mountain range between the

Kingdom and the Orc territories. Generally considered impassible, at least without taking significant

losses, normally few raiding parties came from them. It was also considered too dangerous to pursue

the Orcs into the rough rocky area in the low hills.

I could see that the lieutenant was seriously considering giving chase anyway. Luckily for us, the

sergeants were able to convince him to hold off; there would be another raiding party soon. So we

camped at the edge of the border, sending out scouts looking for signs of another party. There seemed

to be a limitless supply of Orc raiding parties. I approached Sergeant Crase about it.

Has there always been this many Orc raiding parties? I asked him one day while we were

waiting for news of another party. Ive never heard it was so dangerous in the eastern kingdom.

No, he answered, giving me a sideways look as if surprised I would ask such a question.

There have always been one or two a year, but starting about 6 months ago we started to see one or

two a day. I think our force out here is the colonels answer to this increase.

Even though we had a brief respite, another Orc raiding party was soon spotted and Lieutenant

Shome led us off in pursuit. Two farms and a village later, we were able to bring them to battle.

Our first engagement with the Orcs was a disaster. Shome confidently ordered us to attack them

head on. He was a brave man; Ill give him that credit. Brave but foolish. The Orcs might look awkward

and ugly, but they were raised with one objective, to be warriors. They were not the smartest

creatures, but they were clever and could take on direct assaults with devastating results.

Shome wasnt the only man to die that day, half our company was wiped out before we

managed a retreat. The retreat threatened to become a rout as this was the first battle for most of the

men. This was my squads first battle as well at least against the Orcs, but we managed to hold it

together, dismounting and forming a rearguard long enough for the sergeants to get the remaining

company under control and back into military organization.

My squad and I remounted and withdrew into the companys protection and the Orcs

uncharacteristically broke off the battle and headed off for another village to raid. Once our company

was clear of the battle, we regrouped and the sergeants sent off a rider with a report on the battle. My

squad was either good or lucky and we came through relatively unscathed, all except for Tavaro who

received a slice across his thigh. The wound was painful and bloody, but wouldnt keep him out of

action.

Although we assumed that we would simply wait for another officer and reinforcements, the

sergeants had a different idea. Sergeant Crase was our senior sergeant and a veteran of Orc battles. He

insisted that we pursue this particular Orc party officer or not.

We managed to bring them to battle just after they had raided and destroyed another farm.

This time Crase had us prepare for the assault. About a mile from the raiding party, we dug out a ditch

throwing the dirt up into an earthen wall. After that was finished he split us up into four groups. Three

riding groups and one group to man the wall.

Nico, Im going to assign your squad to the earthworks. Your performance during the retreat

was solid and I need steady men here. Its going to be your job to hold off the attacking force until the

retreating unit is off their mounts and manning the wall. You will have a hundred Orcs on worgs

charging for all their worth. You have to be able to hold, or we are going to get slaughtered.

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Yes Sir, I answered.

Dont call me Sir, his reply was almost reflexive. I work for a living.

The plan he finally laid out in front of us consisted of a mounted taunting force to approach the

raiding party, attracting their attention and drawing them into pursuing. Once the raiding begins to ride

forward to after the taunting force, the taunting force would hastily retreat, making it look like a rout.

They would ride hard to the barricade we had just dug, get within its safety, dismount and defend the

wall. The blockade force would man the rampart and hold off the Orcs using bows and arrows until the

taunting force could join them.

While this was going on, we would have two additional mounted forces, Left Flankers and Right

Flankers that would crisscross the back end of the raiding party taking out the trailing force of the Orcs

force, eventually whittling them down to the point that the Flankers could just make on last charge,

wiping out the leading edge of the raiding party.

The explanation sounded much more complex than the actual action, but the key to entire plan

was the blockade force hold fast, allowing the other forces to complete their missions. The biggest

problem I saw was that the blockade force would have to use bows and use them effectively in order for

the plan to work.

Our squad had been introduced to the bow with a short familiarization day of training at training

camp. I was not sure that we had the skills to perform to the level necessary. I tried to explain this to

Crase, but he assured me that we would be fine. Still I had misgivings about the plan.

It was late afternoon when the three mounted forces set off for their assignments. We had set

up the earthworks so that the sun would be behind our backs, giving us good light for our shooting, but

be blinding to the Orcs. Of course that also meant that our retreating force would be running blind as

well. For them we set up markers for the last hundred yards of their retreat, including a line of markers

at the ditches edge so they knew where to set their horses up to jump across and through the gaps we

left in the barricade for them.

The flanking forces headed out wide on their respective sides and the retreat force set out a

couple minutes later, allowing the flankers to get into position. 30 minutes later, we heard the sound of

the retreating force thundering towards us. Then they were leaping the ditch and behind the barricade.

Despite my misgivings, the squad did exceptionally well with the bows. It wasnt actually any

skill we had, it was simply that the orc force was tightly packed, all salivating at the expectation of

slaughtering the retreating men. Any arrow we shot off was guaranteed to hit a target, even if it wasnt

the target we aimed for. In fact our most effect shots were the ones that missed and hit the worgs

coming behind. Orcs were intelligent creatures, or at least semi-intelligent and can control their pain to

attack through it. Worgs are animals and when pierced by an arrow, they will immediately shy away

from the pain. A four hundred pound Worg suddenly veering off its path and into the path of other 400

pound Worgs can and does cause massive collisions and much mayhem in the midst of a charging attack.

By the time the retreating force had dismounted and joined our squad in shooting at the

attackers, we had already significantly disrupted the second level of the Orc attacking force. However,

that did leave the first wave of the attack fairly intact, and at least a half dozen made it to the trench.

Two did not see the trench in time and tumbled down onto the sharpened wooden stakes we have

placed inside. That left 4 that actually made it over the berm and into a flanking position.

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We had hoped to avoid this eventuality, but had planned for it anyway. With the retreating

force now manning the earthwork, my squad was free to engage the Worgs and their riders in our

midst. Worgs and Orcs individually are formidable opponents, together they are extremely fearsome. A

single man attempting to engage them would stand little to no chance; therefore we attacked them in

teams of two. Sergeant Crase joined us in defending the camp.

Assuming that we would have at least some of the attackers come through, we made use of the

long pikes that were part of the platoons standard weaponry. Our strategy was pretty simple; one man

would distract the attackers from the front, using his pike to keep them at bay. The second man would

come in from behind and use his pike to hopefully kill at least one of either the Worg or the Orc

attackers.

For the most part, this strategy worked and there were no injuries in the blockade force, all

except for Tavaro, who was unexpectedly rushed by the Worg and got trampled, although his partner

Jabani had been able to slay the Orc and jump in on the Worg, basically throwing it out of the way while

slicing its neck and killing it. Because of Jabanis quick and decisive action, Tavaro only ended up with a

few bruises and some painfully sore ribs.

It took several minutes but we finally killed all four Orcs and Worgs. By the time we returned our

attention to the battle, our two flanking forces had decimated the rest of the raiding Orcs. While we

killed almost 50 Orcs and a similar number of worgs, we lost only 6 men. All the men came from the

flanking forces, when they had disobeyed orders and separated themselves from the rest of the force

and gotten isolated, trapped and cut down.

Crase was extremely pleased, not only had we defeated the raiders with minimal loss on our

part, his plan of attack had worked surprisingly well. Unfortunately we had arrived too late to stop their

ravaging of the farm.

We somberly buried the dead, piled the Orc and Worg corpses in a pile and burned them. We

did place several Orc heads on poles as a warning for future Orc raiding parties.

After those tasks were done, we built a camp. Given that we were only a partial company, we

didnt have to build a full size camp.

The next day we marched back to the border where we had been camping before knowing that

the reinforcements would be looking for us there. In the following days, Sergeant Crase had us build a

full sized camp. When the reinforcements arrived, he wanted a camp large enough to hold both us and

the newcomers. A camp such as this was standing nightly procedures in the Kings Army, although the

last officer was particularly lax about building it every time we halted for the night.

We dug a ditch and built palisade facing the interior of the Orc territory, we continued on

creating three more sides. Pitching tents inside, we made sure we had enough tents for all the soldiers,

not only those in the camp but also for those to come. For the first time in what seemed like forever,

we rested that night in the security of a camp, complete with rotating sentries.

The new officer and reinforcements took four more days to reach us, by which time we had

completed the full sized camp and had begun to send out roving patrols to find out if there were any

other Orc raiding parties.

Orcs had been raiding the kingdom for centuries, but recently they had increased the number of

raids significantly. Despite the walls and fortifications put up by the Army, there were still several very

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difficult, dangerous routes the Orcs could take into the kingdom. With no good sources of information

on these routes, there was little opportunity to stop a raiding party so intent on entering the kingdom

that they would risk death just to get there. No one knew exactly why there was such an increase in the

number of raiding parties, but the local nobles had been lobbying for an increased Army presence. Our

patrol was one of the solutions offered by the Army; although we have been only partially successful, in

fact, our current victory represented the most successful encounter to date.

Our new officer, another junior officer looking to make a name for himself, was not impressed

by our recent victory. He immediately insisted that we ride out to find other raiding parties.

It wasnt all that hard to find. Apparently, the Orcs had anywhere from 2 to 4 raiding parties out

at any one time. Within days we came across a village that had just been decimated and the Orcs were

still looting it.

Despite the proven strategy employed by Crase, the new officer demanded that we make a

direct charging attack. Crase had no choice but to follow his instructions and order us into attack

formation. Seeing our disbelieving looks, he could only shrug his shoulders.

As with our previous officer, this one was very brave, leading us, sword drawn as he imagined

the heroes of old had done. He indeed cut a dashing figure, but we had seen this before and although

we did follow him in his attack, our hearts werent in it and we only made a half-hearted run at the

enemy. Unfortunately, the new recruits didnt know any better and joined him in the headlong charge.

In the same manner of our first head-on charging attack, the only thing accomplished was the death of

the officer and slaughter of the men following him.

We did try to support it and ensure as many of the new recruits as we could survived.

Unfortunately that turned out to be a mere half dozen.

Once again, Crase sent word to the main camp of the defeat and requested another officer and

more men. Meanwhile we set up one of our planned attacks on this raiding party. With our previous

defeat, the Orcs blood was raging and we had little problem luring them into another ambush. This

time we were able to avoid having any Orcs break through our wall. In addition our skill in archery

improved and we actually hit a few targets we were aiming for. The flanking forces came away with a

couple injuries but no death. Our stopping force had no deaths, but Tavaro did get struck by a stray

arrow unleased by an attacking Orc. The arrow pierced his leather jerkin, and gave him a shallow

scratch along his back, near his spine.

We returned to the camp we had previously set up, previous officers failed to do, leaving us

exposed and out in the open considering the time it took to return to the camp a waste. We were all

surprised when a new officer and replacements arrived in less than three days. Just as before, the officer

immediately ordered us to break camp and begin chasing raiding parties.

While I didnt object to hunting for Orcs, that was our job after all, I did object to the dangerous

and careless way the officers conducted the search and battles. Apparently the officer training

consisted of telling tales of glorious charges and displays of foolish bravery.

I didnt even bother to learn the names of this officer or the next two to replace him; they never

lasted long enough for me to care. I began to wonder if the Army had a limitless supply of foolish junior

officers. On the positive side, every time we got replacement for the men the officers managed to get

killed, we were able to save a few more.

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Finally, the fifth officer we received, Lieutenant Andero, turned out to have some common

sense and listened to Crase and followed his advice. We returned to camp every night, meticulously

planned every attack and scouted the enemy before engaging.

Over the course of the next five months we waylaid a dozen raiding parties, we even were able

to arrive at a village ahead of one party and kill them before they could attack it. While we did lose

men, we avoided the wholesale slaughter we had been experiencing.

Eventually, Anderos successes brought him to the attention of the senior officers at the main

camp and he was relieved and sent back to the camp. I hoped it was for a promotion, but had little faith

that it was.

The next three officers to replace him, were of the mold of the first officers we had and we went

back to the foolish charges, the slaughter of soldiers and the constant need to replace both men and

officers.

Finally with the last officer about to make the same idiotic mistake, I had to speak up.

Sir, I dont even remember his name; I hadnt bothered to learn them once Andero was

recalled. Please dont do this, you will only get yourself and other soldiers killed.

What cowardice is this?! He exclaimed in derision. I will not have my men afraid of going into

battle. To punctuate his remarks, he took out his baton and struck me across the head, giving me both

a lump and a headache.

With that he called Crase over and demanded that I be sent back to the main camp immediately

with a report of my spinelessness. When Crase tried to demure, he called another sergeant over and

ordered him to leave immediately in the supply wagon, taking me and my squad to report to the camp

colonel in disgrace.

My heart sank and I suddenly remembered Sergeant Skills remarks on choosing my battles, my

ill thought out statements had just cost not only me, but my squad. What exactly it would cost us

remained to be seen, but I was sure it would be significant.

Twenty minutes later, with an aching head and increasing concern over our future, we were in

the back of the supply wagon; we were on our way to the Kings Eastern Bastion.

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Chapter Four - Preparing

On and on we marched, one foot in front of the other, cadence provided by the sergeant

marching in the front row, orders coming from the young officer to the right side of the formation. Left

turn, right turn, reverse march, halt, dress ranks, march formation, forward march. Again and again. One

month straight weve been at it. To what end, I had no idea.

Upon arriving at the Kings Eastern Bastion, things turned out to be as bad as I had feared. Upon

hearing the charges the young Lieutenant leveled against us, we were relegated to scut work. Cleaning

latrines, clearing stables of horse manure, taking kitchen waste to the waste piles. Any and every task

that decent soldiers worked hard to avoid.

The camp was the primary defensive position against Orc territory. Located in a pass between

two high mountain peaks, it was the perfect place for a line of defense. Unfortunately, based on the

number of Orc raiding parties, determined travel through the mountains to the north would eventually

allow access from the Orc lands into the Kingdom. Those routes were generally considered nearly

impossible without a significant loss of life. In addition, there was really no way to defend against them.

While the raiding parties were extremely disruptive to the residents of that part of the Kingdom,

there was little possibility of a large scale invasion from those routes. That left the pass that the Kings

Eastern Bastion defended as the only real avenue for invasion and was the reason for the Bas