A Town Called Dust: The Territory 1 (12 page)

The following morning the Scants formed up and were met by Lieutenant Walter. Around them the yard was a hive of activity. The trainee Diggers, referred to as Cadets, a somewhat nicer term than Scants, were in another part of the yard making dramatic noises as they struck at each other with wooden swords. Workmen and Apprentices hurried around like bees in a hive. Lynn couldn’t help but think that if the Apprentices were worker bees then that made herself and the other Scants the slimy larvae.

“When Diggers go to war,” Lieutenant Walter was saying, “it is the war they will be focused on. They are the sharp end of the spear. They are the fighting force that will crush the horde of ghouls. They are the ones who will be remembered. But this,” he gestured around him to the business of the yard, “is the shaft of the spear.”

It was only last night that Lynn had mumbled to herself that she didn’t see the point of Apprentices anyway. It was Squid who turned to her and said: “Apprentices are like dirt farmers.” When Lynn had asked him to explain what he meant Squid had gone on to say: “It’s like my uncle says, ‘The special farmers growin’ the food would be nothin’ if it weren’t for the dirt farmers.’ It’s the same with Apprentices and Workmen. They give the Diggers what they need to do the important job.” Lynn couldn’t help but crack a small smile. Squid was a strange boy, but she’d recently noticed that he was more often right than not.

“A dirty yard is the shaft of a Digger’s spear?” Tank said. “You mean they get made here?”

“No,” Walter said patiently, “I mean the Diggers may be the fighting force but every single person involved, down to the last worker, helps get them to the front line.”

Lieutenant Walter began walking toward an empty stable off to the side of the yard. He motioned for them to follow.

“This is everything a single Digger takes into battle.” Walter walked into the stable, where the floor was covered in hay and the air was thick with the pungent smell of uncleared manure.

“Unless deployed by bio-truck or dirigible, the Diggers would have a horse,” Walter continued. He gestured to the collection of equipment that either hung on, or lay resting against, the wall of the stable. “Plus all of this, and all of this equipment needs maintenance.”   

And there was a lot of equipment: shining steel plate armor, cotton uniforms, boots—both leather and steel—gloves, a sheathed longsword, a mechanical rifle, saddlebags and several trunks. Walter pointed out each piece of equipment in turn, explaining its purpose and then passing it around the Scants.

“Feel how heavy this is,” he would say of a piece of armor, or “Note the shape of these riding boots,” or “See the difference between the heavy plate greaves and the lightly armored greaves.”

Once the Scants had finished handling the equipment—they were especially impressed by the longsword, which they could barely lift—Lieutenant Walter addressed them again. “This is the minimum amount of equipment a single Digger would take into battle. Who can guess how much the armor alone would weigh?”

There was silence.

“Anyone?” Lieutenant Walter prompted. “Max?”

Lynn had no clue how much the armor would weigh. She had never been good with numbers. Her mind remained a blank void, unable, despite the attention of everyone around her, to muster even a number that might be remotely close.

 “Ninety-seven pounds,” Squid said.

“That’s right,” Walter said, clearly taken aback. “How did you know that?”

Lynn was inclined to agree; how did he know that? He was such a strange boy.

Darius turned to look back at Squid and sneered, “Ninety-seven pounds, neeeergh.”

Walter looked at Darius without a change in expression. Darius stood up straight and swallowed.

“If this is one Digger’s equipment, imagine what is required to get an army of two thousand into battle,” Lieutenant Walter continued.

“Like, I don’t know, a billion Apprentices,” said Tank.

Walter’s eyebrows rose in exaggerated surprise. “A billion?”

“Actually,” Squid said, “it’s more like six thousand eight hundred men, four and a half thousand horses and a thousand wagons.”

“Um, well, yes, something like that,” Lieutenant Walter said, trying to hide his surprise. “Much of an Apprentice’s responsibility is logistics. You will be required to focus on traveling to the battlefield; bringing the Digger food and drink; knowing when to rest the horse and how many days’ march you have in front of you. It can be a demanding job. If a Digger has traveled ninety miles and the battlefield lies a further ninety miles away, in how many days will the Digger reach the battlefield if he knows that water is scarce and the horse will require changing at a place twenty miles away? These are the sorts of questions you will—”

“Thirteen and a half days,” Squid said.

“Well, yes,” Lieutenant Walter said, “that sounds about right, but ah … that was only meant as an example.” Lieutenant Walter paused and surveyed the Scants, most of whom were staring at Squid.

“Moving an army around is a complicated task and you all have an important role to play. It looks like you would all do well to learn from Squid.”

Lynn saw Darius staring at them. It seemed Darius was not at all impressed with the way Lieutenant Walter had publicly praised Squid, particularly because it insinuated Squid was better at something than he was. Lynn couldn’t manage to contain the slight smile that crept across her lips. She was quite sure Darius had noticed, and Lynn did her best to look away, but she could feel the baking glare on the back of her head.

“All right,” Lieutenant Walter said, “take a five-minute break, you lot. Next we are going to learn some more about horses, if Sergeant Wallace ever arrives.”

As the Scants began milling about, Lynn turned to Squid.

“How did you know all that?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Squid said. “I’ve always been good with things like that. I can try and teach you, if you want.”

“You’d do that?” Lynn said.

Squid’s small face exploded into a wide-arching smile. “That’s what friends do, isn’t it?”

Over the next week Squid and Lynn spent much of their time together and although Lynn would never admit it, they were becoming the closest thing to friends that either of them had ever had. Lynn continued to help Squid during sword practice and had even stolen two of the wooden swords from the training yards so they could practice in their own time. In return, Squid helped Lynn learn the other elements of being an Apprentice, particularly those that involved planning ahead or fixing things. Admittedly Lynn seemed to gain a handle on how to decide on the amount of food needed for a journey or the best place to rivet replacement plates onto armor quicker than Squid learned to handle a sword, but he too was improving, slowly.

During that time Squid and Lynn had an unspoken agreement to avoid Darius Canum. Luckily this didn’t prove too difficult because although their physical wounds had healed, Glenden, Tank and Rusty were still well aware of the battering Lynn had given their egos. It had taken a week of Darius’s most solid leadership skills, notably manipulation, bullying and ultimately physical torture, to turn them around. Although Squid and Lynn didn’t know it, he had finally convinced them that retaliation was called for.

Lynn was walking with Squid to the barracks after dinner when that retaliation occurred. They were making their way through the twisting back corridors of the Rock, corridors that were barely lit by the sparse gas torches on the walls. Lynn knew Squid didn’t like this route and to be honest neither did she, not that she would let on. Just yesterday Squid had moaned about how anything could be hiding in the shadows of the corners and doorways.

This thought had just crossed Lynn’s mind when she and Squid rounded a corner and were pounced on. Darius and Rusty stepped out of the darkness first. They stood in front of Squid and Lynn, two wooden training swords in their hands. For what seemed an excessively long time the only sound in the whole world was the clapping of the wooden sword against Darius’s palm.

“You two embarrassed me,” Darius said to them.

“What are you talking about, Darius, you low life?” Lynn asked.

“Your little stunt in the training yard cost me a lot of respect. I’m a Canum, and Canums get respect.”

“Why? For digging up what’s already lying all over the ground?” Lynn said, then added, “No offense, Squid.”

Squid shook his head, indicating that although he was in a state of shock and couldn’t speak he had taken no offense. Lynn could see Squid gripping the key that hung around his neck in a vice-like fist. She’d noticed that he always did that when he was afraid. For a fleeting moment Lynn wondered what the key was for, but now was certainly not the time to ask.

“Dirt farming keeps the Territory alive,” Darius said.

Lynn looked at Squid. “Is there a book somewhere that spells out what dirt farmers are supposed to say?”

Darius’s face warmed to an angry magenta. “Don’t try and be smart, Max,” he said. “You’re about to be embarrassed.”

“Your goons are the ones who should be embarrassed,” said Lynn. “Speaking of which, where are the other two members of your idiot guard?”

Just as the words left Lynn’s mouth Glenden and Tank stepped from the darkness behind them. Lynn knew they were attempting to block the only escape route, and they were doing it quite well. Glenden and Tank were not the sharpest tools in the shed; Darius had obviously planned this. Darius’s two henchmen stepped forward and simultaneously struck Lynn and Squid on the backs of the knees with their wooden swords. Lynn felt her legs buckle beneath her and she and Squid both collapsed into a heap like empty hessian bags.

“You won’t disrespect me again,” said Darius as he struck Lynn around the side of the head with the edge of the sword. Lynn hit the floor even before the caustic sting exploded across her face. Her cheekbone must have been shattered. She felt like a puddle of water spreading out on the cold stones, and wished she could soak down into them. She wondered for a moment if Squid was okay, but her thoughts evaporated when she received a quick kick in the back from Tank’s chubby leg. She rolled over and saw that Squid had pulled himself into a ball, hugging his knees and doing his best to protect his face as he was kicked again and again by Glenden.

Lynn cried out. It wasn’t a cry of pain but a deep, guttural roar, a sound she never knew she could make. She was on her feet before she knew it, battering Tank aside with a forearm to the nose and lunging wildly at Darius. Darius lifted his arm to protect his face. The outburst had shocked him enough that he had dropped his sword. Lynn instantly had it in her hand and swung it at Darius. The blow glanced off Darius’s face as the boy desperately leaned backward. It was only then that the berserk rage that filled her mind began to clear. Tank, Glenden and Rusty were coming for her. They attacked as one group but luckily they were in no way organized. Lynn flailed like a dancer as she desperately defended against her three attackers. Where their blows were rushed and loose Lynn was balanced, her strikes practiced and tight. Darius whimpered and backed away, the look on his face indicating that he thought this fight a little too evenly matched for his liking.

“Squid!” Lynn shouted above the wooden thuds of the meeting swords. She could see Squid beginning to regain some composure. He was clearly in pain, his body limp as he raised himself from the cold floor, trails of sticky blood running from his newly re-broken nose. He might at least be able to draw away some of their attention, thought Lynn, enough to give her a chance to get the upper hand. But as Squid got to his feet, cradling his stomach with one hand, he began to hobble down the corridor away from the fight.

“Where are you going!?” Lynn cried out.

Squid managed to say something in reply but Lynn couldn’t hear him. Rage filled her. Squid was abandoning her. Lynn’s anger at Squid left her distracted for just a second and she was too late to block an incoming strike from Tank that caught her in the upper arm. The sudden burst of pain only fuelled her aggravation.

“Come back!” Lynn’s words were as wild as her anger, tumbling after Squid in a confused collection. “Get back here!”

Squid quickened the pace of his hobble down the corridor. He tried not to look back, scared of what Max might have become. He only managed to make it a few more steps before he felt a sudden boom and a ringing in his ear as he was punched from behind. He stumbled and turned in time to see Darius throw another punch. Squid managed to duck and Darius’s fist caught him awkwardly in the top of the forehead, a glancing blow that seemed to hurt Darius as much as it hurt Squid. Squid could see over Darius’s shoulder that Max’s adrenaline-fuelled attack was running out of steam. Tears were leaving streaks down Max’s cheeks as his attacks lost their vigor. Glenden and Tank were sporting bleeding wounds, welts and large egg-shaped swellings on their faces, but they had managed to grab Max’s arms. Squid feebly pushed at Darius to keep him at bay, but it wasn’t working. Then Squid felt a sudden pull on the back of his shirt. It almost hauled him off his feet.

“Enough.”

The voice brought the fight to an instant stop. Well, almost an instant stop, as Max continued to struggle and eventually ripped himself free of Glenden and Tank’s grip. He lashed out with a kick that landed squarely in Rusty’s groin, again. Rusty collapsed to the floor. Max picked up one of the wooden swords from the ground and swung at Tank. The sword connected with the back of Tank’s elbow. The elbow joint bent the wrong way, much too far the wrong way, and the sound of the impact was complemented by the dull cracking of bone.

Max then went at Glenden, who had started backing away from him. Max raised the sword into an overhead position, fully intending, it seemed, to split Glenden’s skull wide open.

“I said enough!”

Max stopped and turned. His face was a mess of tears and blood. His lungs heaved, drawing in rapid breaths. Glenden had dropped to the ground, his eyes wide with shock and terror. Tank, his face an unhealthy off-white color, held his broken arm as it flopped at the elbow like wet paper. His eyes rolled in their sockets like apples in a barrel. Rusty moaned as he rocked on the floor. Max turned to where the voice had come from. Lieutenant Walter stood watching.

“Drop that sword.”

Lieutenant Walter’s voice was cold. The wooden sword rattled to the stone floor.

“I won’t jump to any conclusions,” he said slowly, “but it looked like four against two. That makes it worse odds than last time. Who wants to explain?”

All the boys were quiet.

“Very well,” Lieutenant Walter said, “I will take this to the Training Master immediately.”

“None of these dirt lifters and knuckle-dragging Outsiders have any idea of honor,” Max said. “They were waiting like cowards in the darkness to attack us.”

Lieutenant Walter began to speak but apparently Max hadn’t finished. He pointed his finger at Squid.

“And you,” Max said icily, his voice flat, “are a coward too.”

Squid’s face reddened.

Lieutenant Walter looked at Max.

“You speak of honor,” said Walter as he stared at Max. “But you were ready to kill. Right here and now you would have smashed this boy’s brains in. There is no honor in that. You have no honor with which to judge.”

Max ran at Lieutenant Walter and threw a punch. It seemed to take the Digger by surprise, hitting him in the center of the chest. Max lashed out with the other hand too, but Lieutenant Walter caught it. Max continued to beat against the Digger’s chest with his free hand until finally he fell against the man and his attack turned to sobs.