Jabberwocky (6 page)

The first day of travel passed uneventfully. No towns were by when nightfall arrived, so they slept out. Tjaden and the rest of the group made sure Elora, as the only female, was well taken care of. Everyone except Rodin, she noticed, who recited bromides about the inappropriateness of requiring a lady to sleep without bed or cot.

Elora was given extra mats for her bedding, and her tent was set up in the middle of camp, away from the perimeter. While she was self-reliant enough to take care of herself, she was also enough of a lady to allow the men to fulfill their responsibilities as gentlemen.

As soon as camp was set, Elora saw Ollie rush to target practice to take advantage of the little daylight that remained. The horses’ feed wagon had caught up to the group and Ollie used the hay as a backdrop for the target he’d carved out of bark. He shot ten arrows at a time, then replaced the target. Eight out of ten hit the hand-width circle, with the other two lodging in the hay.

Tjaden approached, getting accustomed to his new sword. He stopped when he noticed Elora, and sat next to her to watch Ollie practice.

Elora spoke first. “He really loves that bow, doesn’t he?”

“He does. And he’s not a bad shot. I just wonder whether he’ll stick with it long enough to become great.”

“I guess you know him better than anyone.”

“Well enough to know that the real reason all of the arrows are at least finding the hay is because he’s too lazy to miss and have to chase them down.”

Elbowing him in the side, she said, “I wouldn’t be too hard on him. Your Fellow’s bow could very well save your life someday.”

Over the week of travel, conversation became more natural for Tjaden. He beamed whenever she asked about the Elites, and knew a surprising amount of information about them. Each Elite served ten years based out of the capital, spending months on end in one deployment after another. At the end of ten years as an Elite, he entered the regular army as a Sergeant or above, still maintaining Elite status and being stationed as near his hometown as possible with a regiment of soldiers.

Listening to him talk about his future made Elora feel comfortable. Eventually Tjaden was able to ride in silence for a mile or more without acting anxious. In the week of travel, they’d spent more time together than in almost sixteen years of their lives. There had always been a mutual attraction, but until now it was shallow. Not only did she discover who he was under the composed demeanor, she bared her own personality as they chatted, joked, and bantered.

Sharing the most harrowing experience of their lives had created a bond, but the opportunity to pass hours together in relaxed travel was exactly what they needed. And Elora wasn’t disappointed in the slightest by what she learned.

Whenever Rodin approached, Tjaden grew quiet and they were bombarded with boasts and self-acclaim. Even the questions Rodin asked were merely transitions to new topic on which he was an expert. Stories and claims continued until Elora found an excuse to withdraw. She expected Rodin to pick up on her cues, but day after day he attempted to charm her, and day after day she found a new reason to ride somewhere else.

Midway through the seventh and final day of traveling, Elora pulled Tjaden out of earshot of the rest of the party. As their horses sauntered along, she said, “I know you’ll grow and mature with your training and I truly believe it will be for the best. You are the type of young man that turns into a great man. I promise that when you finish in fourteen months I will be waiting. Not that I am obligating either of us, but I will be there so we can find out how we feel. I’ll do all I can to become a woman worthy of an Elite.”

His shyness had given her a chance to deliver her prepared thoughts.

“I promise I’ll be here too,” he said. “I mean, I’ll be there. In Shey’s Orchard. You know what I mean.”

He flushed, she grinned, and they rejoined the group.

*****

Tjaden was positively beamish as they caught up with the group. The send-off from Elora was better than he could have wished for. Though he had no idea how he could compete with Rodin’s looks and confidence, apparently Elora wasn’t impressed by swagger.

Over the last week he found himself wishing the trip was seven months instead of seven days. For years he’d invented occasions to catch glimpses of Elora, and he finally had all the time he wanted. Even more exciting, she was as attractive on the inside as she was on the outside. It wasn’t surprising—just pleasing. For only the second time in his life he wasn’t in a hurry to begin training.

Everything he knew about Elora said she would keep her word. Fulfilling his dream of being an Elite wouldn’t cost him the chance for a life with her. When he returned from training in fourteen months, many girls her age would be betrothed or married. But not Elora.

The sun hung high as Palassiren came into view. From that distance neither the capital nor the mountain behind it looked very impressive. The immensity of the city did not sink in until they neared the gates half a day later.

Tjaden had imagined cities, had heard descriptions and stories, but Palassiren was an entire world crammed into four walls. As if he’d never seen an animal larger than a mouse, and was suddenly shown an elephant. Even with a proper description it had been impossible to imagine. There was no space between the buildings. No fields, no orchards. It seethed like an anthill laid out in perpendicular lanes of travel.

Night had fallen by the time the party reached the towering walls and entered the gates, but people still swarmed the lantern-lined streets on their way home, to market, or on other pressing errands. They rushed along without stopping to chat or even greeting each other.

Citizens parted as the soldiers and their companions passed, but ignored them just as they did the cobbled streets, or stars in the sky. Not even the wide-eyed newcomers drew the attention of most of the busy people.

Some shops were closed, but many vendors still lined the streets hoping to bring in a few more coins before closing for the night. The sheer diversity of shops astounded Tjaden and the other Shey’s Orchard folk. They passed cheese shops, butchers, candle makers, leather vendors who sold only saddles, and fruitstands with dozens of varieties of produce. Tjaden noticed his father’s gaze linger on such shops. He hoped his father would have some time the next day to explore the city before being escorted back home.

One shop sold an assortment of animals. Displayed in front were two Jubjub birds in adjacent cages. He had never seen one alive, but it was impossible to mistake the red color, substantial size, and the intensity with which they attempted to break through their respective cages to be together. He’d heard they lived in state of perpetual passion and now saw it was true.

Though it was a straight course from the city gate to their destination, it took nearly an hour for the horses to carry them there. The Academy was located in the Military District within the inner city. Not as thick and tall as the outer walls, the inner walls kept the populace out of the palaces and away from the military grounds.

Built to accommodate hundreds of soldiers, the training ground was immense. In the foreground of the training area a smaller section was cordoned off and accented with deep blue. The Elite training area was palatial compared to the austere grounds of the enlisted soldiers-in-training.

Before separating, the party was given a short time for farewells. But Tjaden already had his moment with his father and Elora, and didn’t feel the need for more long goodbyes. He hugged Elora, who had tears in her eyes but also wore an excited expression, and struck hands with his father and Aker.

Tjaden and Ollie were given a brief tour of the building and led to their quarters. Each Elite recruit shared a private room with his Fellow. The quarters were simple, but Tjaden and Ollie were both glad to have enough space to walk across the room without having to scoot around a trundle bed.

The stone walls of the Academy couldn’t be more unlike the friendly groves and small home he was accustomed to, but after a lifetime of imagining himself as a recruit, the walls were perfectly fitting.

After placing their few belongings in their quarters, Tjaden and Ollie retraced the path to the dining hall. Despite the late hour, dozens of soldiers were spread throughout the large room. A group of ten tables near the front of the chamber stood out from the rest. The tables were round, and made of an ornate polished wood with natural streaks of blue. The other tables in the room were sanded pine. Chairs surrounded the tables at the front of the room, as opposed to the benches which paralleled the pine tables. Spread out around three of the finer tables were about twenty men and boys without uniforms, sitting in pairs and talking in the animated manner of children before their first Swap and Spar. Tjaden immediately recognized his fellow recruits.

A heated debate was underway as Tjaden and Ollie sat with their food at one of the Elite tables. One boy, a year or two younger than Tjaden, interrupted the debate to make introductions. He started by telling them his name was Brin-Dar. They went around the table in turn, each saying their name and where they were from. A few recruits were younger than Tjaden, but most were a few years older. Two men were in their mid-twenties and one man with long, unkempt hair looked old enough to be Tjaden’s father.

The dispute began again quickly. A few of the recruits tried to convince the others that the best soldiers came from large cities. Others made the point that small towns produced better soldiers. The younger boys only listened for the most part.

“We have access to the best teachers, private lessons, and battalions of soldiers to observe,” stated a pale young man with blond hair.

A well-tanned, wiry youth spoke up. “Boys in cities grow up soft, selling trinkets in Daddy’s shop or living in mansions with servants to do the real work. Try turning a copse of trees into a home for eight people. Takes four months, but makes you into a man overnight.”

A few in the group chuckled. Ollie, never the timid type, jumped right in. “Let me ask a question—Where did Captain Darieus come from?”

Half of the group answered, “Oblahar.”

“Right,” continued Ollie. “It’s a small town in the western mountains. Most of the residents either raise cattle and horses or grow wheat. No nobles or easy living there. And what about King Barash?”

This time all of the recruits spoke at once. “Palassiren.”

The pale kid asked, “What’s your point?”

Tjaden wondered the same thing, but knowing Ollie, he had something in mind.

“Well,” said Ollie. “One is perfectly suited for military life and has protected the kingdom for two decades. The other excels at sitting on a throne and ordering servants. I think the answer’s obvious.”

The dispute erupted into a free for all, each trying to be heard above the others. Tjaden listened to the conversation with one ear, but his real interest was in his fellow recruits. They ranged from confident and friendly Brin-Dar to the pale young man who was haughty and poised, to a rigid, subdued eleventeen-year-old named Chism.

The old man, probably in his mid-thirties, sat next to Chism. Tjaden couldn’t figure out why anyone, even a wild man, would pick such a small boy as a Fellow. Until the boy grew half a foot, he wouldn’t match up with the next smallest recruit in a fight. As he tried to figure out the lad, Tjaden saw that the boy ate meticulously. Pick up fork, then knife, cut meat, stab, lift to mouth, lay down fork, lay down knife, wipe mouth twice. He repeated the pattern with every bite. Each time he laid down the knife and fork they were perfectly straight.

I guarantee his blades are free of rust and his forms with weapons are precise.
There were things he could learn from each one of the recruits, whether Elite or Fellow.

Rodin joined the group, and again Brin-Dar was the first to make introductions. As soon as the last recruit was finished, Rodin went to work like a bear with a barrel of salmon. Rodin and Zarin—Tjaden caught the pale young man’s name the second time around—became instant friends and rivals. For some time the only interruptions in Rodin’s recounting of valor were Zarin’s tales of incomparable skill.

They droned on and on.

“That’s almost as good as the time I rescued a baby black bear from a cougar. Its mother came along thinking
I
was the threat! I fought her off without hurting her too badly.”

“Oh yeah? When I was hunting a pair of Jubjub birds I stumbled into a grizzly den—”

“And I once slew eight giants with a single arrow!” Ollie interjected loudly, referring to the legend of Bindle Surebeam. Everyone at the tables laughed uproariously at Ollie’s audacity.

That won’t make him popular with those two
, thought Tjaden. But Rodin and Zarin got the point and yielded a portion of the conversation to the group.

As they finished dinner the recruits returned to their barracks, eager and apprehensive for the following day.

The next morning, Tjaden and Ollie arose and donned their new uniforms. Both wore pale blue. Not the hallowed colors of Elite or Fellow, and roughly fitting, but a peacock with a thousand tail feathers wouldn’t be prouder of his attire than Tjaden was to be outfitted in soldier’s garb. After inspecting every inch of each other’s uniforms for dirt, scuffs, and stray threads they made their way to the Assembly Hall.