Shadows: Book One of the Eligia Shala (11 page)

“That’s what you get for arguing with the chief, Theiss!” D’Agostino called cheerfully; merry brown eyes lighting his face. Strolling across the clearing, he stood near Theiss, reaching out and pinching his bicep. “Keep those arms up now, Will!”

“And keep your hands away from him, D’Agostino. He’s not proving anything to you, but he is going to prove to me that he’s worthy of staying in this Flight.” Jenevra’s tone discouraged further levity, although D’Agostino remained smiling as he moved slightly away. “I’m giving you this one last chance to prove yourself, Theiss,” Jenevra continued. “Because I actually think you have some skills that I can use in this Flight.” She stood facing Theiss, locking her clear gaze with his. “But be warned; this is your very last chance. Next time you question, or disobey an order, or I hear any muttered criticism of my orders, I will take your head off your shoulders myself.”

There wasn’t a man in that clearing who didn’t believe that she meant every word.

“Brogan, you can drill everyone else in basic broadsword moves while I take a small group further on for today. Make sure every man here knows how Simon became champion. Simon, you help Brogan with this.” Facing one surly, insubordinate soldier, Jenevra was heartened by how easily the rest of the men obeyed her order.

Calling the first seven who had arrived at the clearing to one side, Jenevra cast an eye over the rest of the men as they began working with Brogan. She noted where footwork was an issue, and was pleased when Simon and Brogan corrected it. Weaving that much metal through the air required a solid footing to keep balance, a factor all too many missed until it let them down. By then it would be too late to change it. Most of them were reasonably solid swordsmen having been in the Imperial forces for some time. A couple of the men were new, with only basic training from fathers or friends in their towns or villages. Simon, the young man Jenevra had set to help Brogan, was particularly effective at teaching the new recruits, she noticed. Natural shyness was overcome by knowledge that he really was one of the best at this, so he taught confidently, but gently. The younger men were already improving as Simon passed on his techniques.

Glancing at Theiss, Jenevra noticed that he was starting to lower his arms slightly. “Keep those arms level with your shoulders, Theiss. Don’t you let them drop!”

Theiss merely gritted his teeth and tightened the muscles in his arms and shoulders.

Gervaise D’Agostino was commenting loudly on everyone’s techniques as he waited to go with the other six fastest runners. It was no surprise to Jenevra to learn that he was from Rafael Massili’s navy; emulation of the flamboyant seafarer was evident in D’Agostino’s every gesture. Just imagine a whole ship full of them, she thought; two hundred Rafaels … gods, what a horrific notion! Memories of some of Admiral Massili’s more grandiose moments flooded her mind, transporting her momentarily away from the clearing.

She remembered her cousin’s eighteenth birthday, when the Admiral had set his own flagship at their disposal for the party. Hosting on his own ship, Rafael Massili had been in his element; loud, boisterous and extravagantly entertaining. Resplendent in full uniform, his medals had gleamed and clanged against an ornamental breastplate, ensuring that he had to talk even louder than usual to be heard over his awards. Bushy hair and beard had been at full bloom. Although a tall man, the Admiral was also quite portly, making him a very imposing figure. Hanging from the highest mast later on in the evening; singing celebratory songs while consuming large quantities of beer, Rafael had made various suggestions to the ladies of the court, all of which caused Phillip, Stephan Richard and Mikyle Manvi to gaze open-mouthed and wide-eyed in admiration. Arrilia Neilla and Lennia had promptly disappeared, dragging Christiana and Jenevra with them; leaving Serena Massili staring at her brother in disbelieving embarrassment. Jenevra smiled before leaving the memories to focus on the group in front of her.

As she turned her mind back to the seven strongest runners, Jenevra gestured at the mountain face in front of them, which was almost vertical for at least a hundred feet. Although a couple of the men looked keen, it was obvious that not all seven looked thrilled at the prospect. On the other hand, the rest of the Flight was breathing a sigh of relief, grateful that their lack of running ability had left them out of this “treat”. With an amused glance, Jenevra was quick to disillusion them. “Don’t think you won’t be doing this soon,” she said cheerfully. “Anyone not able to complete this run and then this climb at the end of two months won’t be staying with the Flight, unless I can find a damn good reason to excuse them.”

Theiss’s shoulders were rigid with tension now, but he was still holding up well.

“It’s really not as difficult a climb as it looks” Jenevra continued. “It looks high, but there are plenty of foot and hand holds on the way up. It’s just straight up, nothing tricky to deal with.” Wriggling her fingers, she noted, “Most of you have strong shoulders and hands from wrestling, sword and knife work; but climbing often uses the very tips of your fingers. It’s just a case of practicing and adjusting your training.”

Theiss was beginning to sweat, cords of muscle starting to show tension in his neck.

“Oh, come on, Theiss, just call it!” Gervaise D’Agostino was impatient to get going. “You know you can’t hold them much longer.” Theiss glared at him, teeth clenched too tightly for any answer.

“Right,” Jenevra was looping a large coil of rope around herself. “I’m going first. Watch the foot and handholds that I use, although you may not be able to use exactly the same ones; but it will give you an idea.”

“Are we all going to be tied together, Captain?” Alexander, one of the youngest soldiers, asked.

“Not likely,” the princess answered cheerfully. “If one of you fell, the others would all go too. You’re just not ready to work that way yet. You’ll climb one at a time for today. I’ll let the rope down from the top. You tie it around you, and climb up; same for the next man, until we’re all at the top. Then I’ll show you some real fun!” Stretching her fingers again, she began to climb. Quickly, easily, she found hand and foot holds, ascending the sheer face at a rapid speed. Occasionally a piece of the rock would be loose and she would have to change grip quickly, but there were no significant problems; although the seven waiting members of the Flight turned pale each time a small shower of stones came down. They were astounded when they heard her calling that the rope was coming down for the first one. “That would be for you!” Gervaise D’Agostino offered the rope to Tarran Kerr, a man with a reputation for enjoying anything remotely dangerous, who backed away quickly, hands behind his back. “No, no, D’Agostino, after you.”

“Come on!” Jenevra shouted impatiently. “One of you just tie that rope around you and start climbing!”

They all stood looking at the dangling rope.

“D’Agostino! Get up here now!”

Squaring his shoulders, and spitting into his palms, D’Agostino put his arms through the rope loop, tightening it round his chest. “You might not want to be standing right there,” he noted to the other six. “Just in case I come down unexpectedly.”

They all took several paces back, except for a tall, curly-headed man, weather-beaten and wiry. Bryce Baudoin was among the oldest of the Flight, a quiet, reserved man, quite happy with his own company. He grinned at Gervaise. “See you at the top!” he called, and swung up the rock face like a man born to it. Long arms and legs snaked out across the mountain as he found grips that no-one else could have reached. He seemed to crawl up it like an insect.

“Are you climbing yet?” Jenevra called.

“Just starting.”

“Shout, ‘climbing’ when you’re moving, D’Agostino, and ‘hold’ if you need to stop. It lets me know what you’re doing while I’m on the other end of this rope.”

“You’re holding me … Captain?” D’Agostino swallowed heavily.

“Sort of. Come on!”

“Just filling me full of confidence here,” D’Agostino muttered, looking for his first hand holds. “Climbing!”

A few minutes after D’Agostino had called, Jenevra heard someone reaching the top of the face. Bryce Baudoin’s curly head popped over the edge. “Thought I’d just pop on up to help, Captain,” he announced cheerily.

“Excellent, Baudoin. You’re a climber! Where?”

“I grew up in Salanova, Captain, so I spent most of my summers climbing the north Coural range. I think my favorites would have to be the Bortkans though. You really feel like you’re on top of the world there.” Squatting down next to Jenevra near the edge of the cliff, he peered over to see how D’Agostino was doing. “You’re a pretty impressive climber yourself, if you don’t mind me saying so … for a princess, that is.”

Jenevra laughed; delighted someone else shared her love of climbing.

“Hello-o … if you don’t mind up there? Dangling man in need of help.” Almost twenty minutes later Gervaise D’Agostino’s voice interrupted their favorite mountain discussion. Laughing, Jenevra and Bryce pulled Gervaise up onto the ledge.

Jenevra sent the rope back down. “Right … the rest of you … one at a time … let’s go!”

It was slow going but, a couple of hours later, with only a few slips, lots of aching muscles, bleeding fingers and one heart-stopping fall (saved by the rope) behind them, all seven were at the top of the rock face. They lay panting on the broad ledge. “You, Baudoin—what are you, part spider?” Tarran Kerr asked accusingly.

Bryce smiled and D’Agostino hooted with laughter. “That’s him … spider! Looks like you’ve got a new name, Baudoin!”

“And now, gentlemen,” Jenevra cut across them. “Going down!”

A couple more ropes were trailing down the rock face now, and using another piece of rope that she had carried up, she showed them how to fashion a harness to use around their waist and legs. To each man she also handed a pair of leather gloves. “You’ll need these, believe me,” she smiled.

Dangling D’Agostino over the edge while she held onto the rope she said, “So you just sort of sit back, use your legs to bounce down, letting go of the rope each time.”

“Let go of the rope?”

“Yes, you just have to let it slide through your hands. If you hold onto it you won’t go anywhere. As soon as you tighten your grip again you’ll stop. It’s easy.” She pulled D’Agostino back onto the top of the rock. “Look. I’ll go first again. You watch. I’ll come back up to let you all down again.”

Bryce Baudoin, Spider, lay flat out, head right over the edge of the rock, watching her all the way down. Although he’d climbed for most of his life, he had never seen anyone go down a mountain that way before. “That’s brilliant!” He said to the rest of the small group, wrapping a rope harness around himself. “Why has no-one ever shown me this before? It’s so simple … so fast.” He was still mumbling to himself as Jenevra reached the ledge again and signaled him to go.

“Whoo-hoo!” Bryce fairly flew down the mountain.

Brogan and the rest of the Flight had long since given up any pretence of sword work, and were watching in fascinated horror; well aware by now that the young princess was going to require all of them to do this.

Will Theiss was crouched on the floor, rubbing his arms and chest, but no-one noticed.

Far more quickly, and with fewer incidents than on the ascent, the climbers returned to the clearing at the bottom of the rock wall. Although they had all been nervous, they had managed to rappel down fairly easily, Bryce’s enthusiasm helping to replace the fear of the unknown with the exhilaration of flying down a mountain.

As the rest of the Flight clamored around them, Jenevra made the last descent, landing smoothly once again. She congratulated all seven on their climb, and ordered another water break. Calmly, she walked over to Theiss, picked up all of the fallen horseshoes and placed them back into the pack she had carried up there. “Time for the run home, gentlemen!” she announced sweetly, swinging the heavy pack up onto her shoulders again. Raising her eyebrows in mild reproof at the collective groan that went up, she was pleased to hear it stop almost instantly. “As Mister Theiss is so fond of pointing out, I’m “just” a girl. If I can run home, so can you. Let’s go!”

Quickly the men formed up into ranks and set off back down the mountain. Brogan had obviously reorganized the ranks during their time in the clearing, with the faster men at the front, slower ones at the back. Brogan set himself around the middle of the Flight, and had assigned two men to run with Bernardo at the very back. Catching his eye, Jenevra nodded in silent acknowledgement of his decisions. Raising her voice again she called instructions to the whole Flight. “When you reach the edge of the forest, you stop. Whenever anyone else sees us they will see an impeccable unit. We will regroup at the edge of the forest, and when we are all back in breath and able to look like we’ve just been out for a short stroll, then we will jog smartly back into the Palace. We have a reputation to build and maintain, gentlemen. A reputation of being the sharpest, toughest, fittest, best Flight in the Imperial War Host; and it starts here!”