The Black Sword Trilogy: The Poacher (6 page)

“This doesn’t fit.” The soldier complained.

“I don’t care.” He said, spitting on the ground.

Every soldier in the line, including Kenner was treated in the same way.

             
Moving along through the building, they were given more equipment, including water canteens, metal plates and eating utensils, flints, a torch, bandages, six feet of rope, socks, a blanket and a pack to put all these items in.  They were also given four square pieces of hard tack.

“That’s in case you’re out in the field with no cook at your disposal.” The Sergeant said laughing.  His laugh sounded like the wheeze of an old man who had smoked too much.  Before they left the supply depot, they were each fitted with a helmet and for all of them; the helmet was either too big or too small.  Before Kenner walked out, he heard Captain Krall call out to the supply person.

“Wait.” He said.  “This one’s an archer.”

The supply person then handed Kenner a long bow, a quiver full of arrows and a something that looked only slightly larger than a dagger.

“What is this,” Kenner asked unsheathing the blade, “a letter opener?”

“It’s the difference between life and death if you’re ever in close quarter combat, you worthless piece of filth.” The Sergeant responded.  “Now get back in line!”

             
The new recruits were then instructed on how to pack their supplies in their packs.  Kenner was also instructed how to properly wear his quiver and short sword over his armor.  They were then put in line and marched out of the gate of the barracks.  The Sergeant kept them in close cadence and screamed profanities at any soldier that was out of step.  They marched through the city streets and eventually out of the city.  The people in the streets and on the main road made way for them.

              They marched for several hours on the main road.  Some began limping as their new boots didn’t quite fit.  Kenner still had the boots his father had made for him and didn’t have that problem.  However, his ill-fitting armor chaffed his shoulders and began to scratch the inside of his legs.  Eventually, they came to a cross roads with horses and two carts waiting there.

              “Alright you criminals!” The Sergeant yelled.  “Get on those carts!” 

Kenner and the rest climbed into the straw-lined carts that were tied to the horses.

“Oh thank the spirits.” One soldier moaned.

“Quiet
you or I’ll have you march the rest of the way!”

One soldier started to take off his helmet and the sergeant slapped him on the back of his head.

“Nobody told you to get out of uniform you filth!”

Kenner made himself as comfortable as possible in the straw, but he also sat so that he could see out of it.  As he settled into the straw, he saw Captain Krall riding a brown horse go in front of the carts.

“Alright,” he called.  “Let’s get under way.”  He began trotting ahead and the carts followed him.

Chapter Seven

              The caravan moved slowly but steadily through the afternoon and into the evening; stopping only for the men to have a meal of dried, smoked meat.  They stopped again when the sun had set and it was beginning to get dark.

“Alright!” The Sergeant yelled.  “Let’s get a fire going.”

“No,” Captain Krall interjected.  “We don’t have time.  We’ll have to ride through the night in order to get to Mobrey by morning.”

              Kenner knew that Mobrey was a city on the Serpent River.  The river and its tributaries snaked its way north and south through Walechia; nearly dividing it in half.  Kenner had never actually seen it; but he had heard that it was the longest and widest river in the known world.  It reputedly stretched twenty miles across and from the Southern Sea all the way to the Badlands.  Why the river, he thought to himself?  It may have been, he imagined a faster way to get to the North Wall than by horse and cart.

              Captain Krall sat quietly by his horse and watched the new soldiers sitting in a circle; wondering to himself how many of them would be dead in a matter of a few days.  He wondered to himself if he would also be dead in that same time.

              The King had been furious with him for not stopping Prince Melkur from killing the two young men he had captured.  But what could he have done, he thought?  If he had placed a hand on the Prince, he might have been arrested and executed for assault “on the Royal person” of the Prince.  It had happened before.  Nothing he could have said would have made a difference.  But the King was right, he told himself.  He should have done something.  Now here he was on the way to the last place in the world he wanted to be.

              “Not a promising lot, are they?” the Sergeant asked.  He handed the Captain a metal cup with coffee and sat beside him.

“No,” Krall answered.  “Not exactly our best and brightest.”

“We should still have some time to whip them into shape when we get to The Wall.” The sergeant said, trying to sound encouraging.

“I hope you’re right.  Otherwise their lives are about to be very short.”

“What makes you say that?”

Krall sighed deeply and took a thoughtful drink from his cup.

             
“The North Wall is under siege.  Post number two reports hundreds of enemy soldiers camped within archery range with reinforcements arriving every day.  The post has already lost its Captain and more than half of their numbers.”
“More than half?” The Sergeant almost gasped.  “And we’re only sending a dozen?  We should be sending an army.”

“The Congress doesn’t agree.”

“To hell with the Congress!  The King is the Commander in Chief!”

Captain Krall saw several of the soldiers look up after the Sergeant’s exclamation.

“Not so loud.” He ordered.

              “The Congress has to approve any large number of troops to be used for any purpose,” Krall continued.  “And before they do that, they demand that a committee be formed to ascertain the validity of the request.  The King asked for a committee to be sent, but the Congress refused.”

“That’s insane.” The Sergeant said, disgusted.

“Yes, it is.”

              The two were quiet for a moment; then the Sergeant spoke to ease the tension.

“That archers a promising one,” He said.  “Have you seen the look in his eyes?  He’s a fighter that one.  I can’t say the same for the rest.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” Krall answered quietly.  He then found himself smiling at the image of him sending the Prince to the ground.  “If any of us survive what’s waiting for us at The Wall, it’ll be him.”

              It was the worst coffee Kenner had ever had; but he told himself that he should probably get used to it.  If he was going to serve in Walechia’s army, these and other inconveniences would need to be gotten used to.  Still he’d eaten for three days in a row and couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.

              Life in the hills was difficult.  It was often cold; the work to keep the village going was hard and food was always scarce.  When he had come of age, the elders of his village put him on a hunting team with the responsibility of hunting food for the entire village.  His wasn’t the only team.  There had to be others in order to assure that the village had enough food to go around.  But he was the best archer in the village and rarely failed to bring home a kill.  His hunting missions had become longer as he had been forced by the deer migrations to search farther away from the village.  That was what brought him in to the woods where he had been caught.

              He couldn’t help but almost laugh at the irony of his current predicament.  Just three days before, he was a villager who hated the very thought of Walechia and its King.  Now, here he was wearing the uniform of a Walechian soldier; and pledged to five years’ service.  He’d eaten for three days in a row and was drinking coffee for the first time since he last left his village.  As he thought of these things, he tried not to think of his two cousins.  His heart had him blaming himself, even though his mind tried to remind him that there was nothing he could have done to prevent the tragedy.  When he closed his eyes, even to blink, he could see the horrible images of their last moments.

              “What’s your crime?” One of the recruits asked him.  It startled him a little, bringing him out of his deep thoughts.

“Poaching,” he said quietly.

“Really?  That must be why you’ve got a bow.”

“Hey!” Another soldier said.  “When do we get weapons?”

“You’ll get them when you get them!” The Sergeant said kicking one of the recruits.  “Now get off your asses and back on to those carts!”

              They loaded on to the carts and Kenner tried to make himself comfortable.

“What do you think will happen when we get where we’re going?” One of the recruits asked.

“Hopefully we’ll be given weapons and shields.” Another answered.

“Go ahead and take off your helmets, boys!” The Sergeant called from the other cart.  “Try to get some sleep.  You’ll need all the rest you can get.

             
Hours went by and as he began to doze, Kenner began to stare at the sky above him.  It was partly cloudy with a full moon peeking through the thin clouds.  At one point, a cloud curved around the moon making it look like a single eye.  As he watched this vision, he felt as if the eye were looking directly at him; watching him for some reason.  Hearing the sounds of the others sleeping made him even more sleepy and he dozed off into more uneasy dreams.

              He was dreaming again of the soldier wielding the silver axe and the battle around him, when a soft whisper of a voice sounded like it was speaking to him.  He woke slowly and saw the familiar shadow seeming to sit between two of his fellow soldiers.  It seemed more clear this time with more form and he thought he could just make out two eyes watching him when the light of the sunrise to the east made the shadow disappear.

              He pulled himself up to a sitting position and saw Captain Krall riding next to his cart.  He looked tired and worn; and even older than he appeared before.  The Captain must have seen Kenner out of the corner of his eyes as he spoke to Kenner.

“You need to be resting young man.” He said firmly, but also somewhat gently.

“I’m sure I’ll get more rest on the boat.” Kenner answered.

Captain Krall then turned to fully face him.

“What makes you think we’re getting on a boat?” He asked.

“We’re going to Mobrey, aren’t we?”

Captain Krall smiled slightly and nodded.

“Yes we are.”

“Then that means we’re getting on a boat.”

Captain Krall nodded again.

“Let me give you a piece of advice that will make your life as a soldier a little easier.” Captain Krall said with seemingly more gravel in his voice.  “Try not to think too much about your future.”

Chapter Eight

              The Brown Eyed Maiden sailed for two days up the Serpent River.  For the most of the journey, Kenner and his fellow recruits were kept below in the cargo hold; but they were allowed above for one hour each day.  During this time, the Sergeant; whom they now knew was named Bobbra, would drill the soldiers in marching and facing movements.  One of the drills was for the soldiers to stand shoulder to shoulder and march in step.  Because the ship was small, they could only go a few steps forwards or backwards.  Kenner was provided with a target to practice his archery at the stern of the ship.  He had never shot a long bow before and several of his arrows flew into the river before he learned to adjust his aim accordingly.

              Several of the men did get sick during the voyage.  Kenner’s father had taught him that, when on a boat or ship, to lie down as flat as possible and close his eyes to prevent sea sickness.  For the most part, it worked, but he still felt slightly nauseated most of the time he was below deck.

              They were fed a kind of meat gravy that was poured over bread.  It looked disgusting.  It was slightly green in color with small lumps of meat.  However, Kenner and the other soldiers found it to be quite tasty.  One of the sailors told Kenner that the secret to the gravy was in its appearance.

“If it looks appetizing,” he said, “It’s probably no good.  The more putrid it looks, the better it is.”

They were also given an apple to eat each day.

“Keeps away scurvy,” One of the sailors told them.

             
Also, like the sailors, Kenner and the others were given a ration of ale each day.  Kenner wasn’t much of a drinker; having only been drunk once in his life.  But the strong ale did make the evenings on the ship more pleasant.