Joelle was next, then Armin. Everyone was thrown into that most horrible of positions three times before they broke for lunch. Three times each of them was beaten into submission by their comrades. Three times each felt the flames of pain and humiliation.
“Did you enjoy this morning’s drill, boys and girls?” Pendar said as they stood stoically in the mess hall line, their tunics splattered with blood.
No one answered. Tane wanted to, with a wooden sword across the bastard’s teeth. But he wisely remained mute and emotionless, staring straight ahead as he’d been taught.
“No? Too bad, because we’re going to be doing it every morning for the next week or so,” he said, smiling cruelly. “But just so a certain person isn’t so put out and morally outraged, I’ll explain why if you want.”
“Yes,” Tane found himself saying. Raven tensed in front of him, while he heard Quinn’s faint groan.
“Ha! Why did I know it would be you?” Corporal Pendar laughed. “All right, Tane, why do you think I made all of you endure such punishment this morning.”
“I suspect because you’re a mean-spirited bastard,” he said honestly, and not caring if they threw him in the stockade or not. But he added, “No disrespect intended, Corporal Pendar.”
“None taken, boy,” he said, grinning. “Now, the reason is simple. In battle, you very well could meet similar circumstances. Once you kill the soldier in front of you, another, then another, and so on, will step up to engage you. It won’t stop after four opponents like today, but continue for what seems like all eternity, only ending with victory for the company or death for you.”
Tane was taken aback. Could it really have been a lesson, scheduled and routine? Had he misinterpreted everything? But one look at Corporal Pendar told him he hadn’t been mistaken about everything. Pendar was a sadistic bastard, and clearly enjoyed watching them beat each other senseless time and time again.
By that time they had reached the mess hall door, so Corporal Pendar ended with, “After lunch we’ll return for more formation drill. This time, though, we’ll stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Corporal Disa’s squad, and fight another section. And Gods forbid we should lose, for Sergeant Gareth has money riding on the outcome, and he’s a bigger bastard than I ever dreamed of becoming.”
“I can attest to that,” Raven muttered under her breath.
Corporal Pendar’s eyes bore into her a moment, then he grinned and strode away to eat. As he left, Tane felt his shoulders start to relax. He hurt all over. His lips were busted in two places, and one eye was blackened. All the others looked at least as bad, with Raven looking the worst of all.
Chapter 14
After eating, they were marched back to the parade ground and formed up beside Corporal Disa’s squad. Like Pendar’s squad, every member of Disa’s squad was bloody and bruised.
The section was left standing at attention for over an hour, while both corporals left for unexplained reasons. At first Tane didn’t mind. The early autumn breeze rolling over the barracks and city walls was cool and refreshing, and he was still cooling down from the morning drills. But after a while he became restless, and the strain of not moving began taking its toll.
“Wiggle your toes,” Quinn whispered out the side of his mouth when Tane found himself suddenly light-headed and swaying. “And don’t lock your knees straight.”
“Locking your knees will cut off the blood to your brain,” Raven whispered. Tane thought that the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard, but noticed Quinn nodding agreement. “You’ll faint, and fall flat on your face. I suspect that is exactly what they’re trying to cause, the bastards.”
Though doubtful, Tane followed their instructions and found himself feeling better. Still, the strain was fast becoming unbearable. How could anyone be expected to stand ramrod straight and perfectly still? And why was such a simple thing so impossible? Then the big Tyrian in Corporal Disa’s squad fell face first into the dirt.
“See,” Quinn said. “Everard locked his knees.”
Tane suppressed a grin. It was Everard who broke his shoulder the day before. It still ached dully, and probably would for the next weak. Joelle said the medical mage could’ve done a better job and totally healed him, but was too stingy with his hoarded energies.
Reckless bastard could’ve killed me, Tane thought, eyeing the Tyrian narrowly.
“I love it when they kiss the dirt,” Sergeant Gareth laughed as he walked up from behind. Corporals Pendar and Disa were with him, and all three were in their chain mail armor and helmets. Tane wondered how long they had been behind them watching and waiting. “Welcome to the bloody army, Everard Boarsbane!”
The now beardless Tyrian rose slowly to his feet and shook his head a second. He dusted himself off and stepped back into line as if he had meant to fall on his face, and it all meant nothing. Tane remembered his mother swearing that Tyrians knew no shame.
The corporals took their positions at either end of the section while Sergeant Gareth walked down the line looking his troops over. He paused only twice. Once to laugh at Everard, and the last time to admire Raven’s bruised and bloody countenance.
“Having fun, Princess Bloody-nose?” he taunted.
“More fun than talking with you, Sergeant Black-tooth,” she countered. “Or should I say, Sergeant Black-toof!”
Tane thought he was going to faint. Why did she say that?! Was she crazy? Did she have a death wish?
“Really?” Sergeant Gareth said, eyes cold as ice. “I heard you cried like a baby each time you were being beaten bloody by your comrades.”
Tane winced at his words. Only Quinn and Armin hadn’t shed any tears. But neither of them could stand for several minutes after the others were through with them. Corporal Pendar never let anyone escape without being thoroughly beaten into the ground.
“What, no biting retort?” Sergeant Gareth said.
“I cried for your poor mother who had to kiss such an ugly child,” she said. Tane was horrified she insulted his mother like that. “Good enough?”
He eyed her narrowly a long moment, then grinned mirthlessly. Finally, he shrugged and continued down the line. While he had been taunting Raven, another section had formed up and started their way. Sergeant Gareth took his position beside Tane just as the other section arrived.
“Sergeant Gareth, you bring my winnings?” the other sergeant called.
“I brought my coin, but just for show. We both know I’ll be the one spending your hard won coin tonight,” he laughed. “My boys and girls are all warriors, born and bred. You got yourself a bunch of barefoot peasants with visions of greatness. Ha, they’ll be crying for their mommies before the afternoon is half through!”
“They’ll be calling for that whore you call a mother!” Sergeant Jungar called back. “To celebrate their victory between her eager legs!”
Tane was outraged. To dishonor the sergeant’s mother so! Sergeant Jungar was surely the foulest-mouthed man alive. Tane didn’t like Sergeant Gareth one wit, but for what was said about Gareth’s mother, Tane would thrash every single member of Jungar’s section to get at the man.
“I seem to have gotten a good reaction from one of your little soldier want-to-bes,” Sergeant Jungar said, nodding at Tane. “Poor fellow, probably loves his precious little mother.”
The sergeants and corporals all laughed, and even a few of the recruits. Tane felt his face redden even further. Glancing down at his fellow squad members, he found Quinn looking at him with concern. Raven was frowning at him. The Vikon pair just looked uneasy.
“I’d be wary of angering my swordsmith if I were you, Jungar,” Sergeant Gareth said. “He’s as strong as an enraged bull.”
“We’ll see,” Sergeant Jungar said. “We’ll see.”
The two sections squared off. Tane quickly looked his opponent over. Like himself, the Lelt was strongly built. But unlike Tane, the man bore warrior tattoos and looked eager to begin. A quick glance up and down Jungar’s line showed alm
ost half of the faces had tattoos. Peasants indeed!
As the sergeants marched their sections forward, the corporals on both sides shouted at their troops. Pendar reminded them to remember their strokes, just like he taught them.
An instant later the two sides fell upon each other with the crack of wood on wood, and a few screams of pain. Tane found himself completely outclassed by the Leltic warrior, and backpedaling furious to escape his blade-work.
“Hold your bloody position!” Raven screamed after taking an opportunistic stroke in the ribs from Tane’s opponent. She lashed out at the man with a foot, then leapt at her own opponent. Tane attacked before his man could attack her again, and was rewarded with a dozen new bruises in as many heartbeats.
After the third smack in the ribs, Tane feared he’d not last much longer. The pain was unbearable, and he saw no lesson being learned here.
“Switch over!” Raven ordered, stepping in front of Tane and taking his place in the line.
He took a quick step to the right, and lunged forward at the confused Jarlander who had been Raven’s opponent. Before the red-headed woman knew what had happened, Tane drove into her and curled her up on the ground with a thrust to the lower belly.
For a brief second shame at what he’d done washed over him. Then the other squad shifted to fill the opening, bring another Lelt to face Tane. He no longer had time for shame or any other emotion. This time Tane found himself the superior swordsman, and began dishing out punishment. He noted Quinn wasn’t having any more of a problem than himself, and that Raven seemed to be toying with the Lelt that had given him so much grief.
“How does it feel to get rapped in the ribs?” Raven growled, eyes afire. She kicked low, forcing him back a step, then drove her blunt-tipped wooden shortsword into his ribs yet again. “Kind of gets tiring after a while, doesn’t it?”
“You’re almost as good with a sword as you look,” Sergeant Gareth said to Raven. He and Sergeant Jungar were crossing blades, but weren’t putting any effort into it. Both men tended to watch their troopers’ performance most of the time. “Keep this up, and you might make corporal before the war is over, little priestess.”
“You’re too kind, Sergeant Black-toof!” Raven said.
Sergeant Jungar laughed. Tane was too busy to spare a look Gareth’s way, but he didn’t think it wise of her to continue using her derogatory name for him. Surely he wouldn’t allow her to go unpunished. Though the regular army cadre seemed terribly foul-mouthed and amoral, they didn’t take well to the recruits joining their game of taunts and insults.
“You’ll be lucky if I leave you with any teeth, bitch,” Sergeant Gareth growled.
“And you’ll be sorry,” she said, and savagely kicked the Lelt between the legs. He curled up on the ground, his lunch spewing across Tane’s boots. She turned baleful eyes on the sergeant, “Tonight, after drill and clean-up, I’m demanding my right to see a priest. I’m going to the temple of Sankar, and make a vow to kill the next man, or woman, who humiliates or hurts me. Aside from routine and scheduled exercises and drills, of course, that all men and women have to participate in.”
Everyone stopped, turning to gawk at Raven. She acted as if she didn’t notice, just continuing to glare defiantly at a stunned Sergeant Gareth. Tane was confused, though thrilled as well. He didn’t like to see anyone humiliated like Gareth enjoyed doing, but also he feared for her even more. He was afraid she’d be thrown in the stockade for sure now.
“That’s insubordination!”
“That’s my divine right, and even King Borric wouldn’t dare withhold it,” Raven said.
Sergeant Gareth looked pensive a moment, then brusquely ordered his section to form back up and prepare to continue, and for Raven to take her assigned place in formation. They fought on through the afternoon, with Sergeant Gareth never once rising up to Sergeant Jungar’s baiting taunts.
After the last formation of the day, the recruits were dismissed. They were ordered not to leave the battalion area, but allowed to bathe, loiter, or clean their gear as they saw fit. As long as everything was in proper military order come morning, they were given some free time to relax before sundown and lights out.
Each platoon was given half an hour to bathe and clean their clothes at the open air bath, with Tane’s 3rd Platoon first on that day. While one of the platoon’s five sections bathed under the water flowing from twelve spouts a good three hands over Tane’s head, the other four sections scrubbed their tunics and trousers clean. After they were through, they donned their damp clothes and headed back to the barracks.
All but Raven, that is. She sought out Corporal Pendar and demanded her right to see a priest of her choice. He reluctantly led her away.
“She’s got balls, that one,” Quinn said, watching their retreating forms until they vanished in the crowd.
“Scared old Gareth witless,” Armin snickered, winking at Joelle.
“You think it wise of her?” Tane asked Quinn.
“No! That’s why you’ve got to admire her.”
“Tyrians all have more guts than brains,” Joelle said. “I hope she wins. If he keeps having his way, then it might occur to him there are other ways to abuse women in his power. And other women to abuse.”
Joelle and Armin shared a grim look. Quinn stared off into space, his face as somber as Joelle’s words left Tane feeling.
“It’s getting to be harder all the time,” Tane said, dropping down to sit on the stone step leading into the barracks. “I didn’t like being forced into the army, and admit to being more than a little scared at the prospect of marching into battle, but at least I thought I was on the right side, the side of good. Now I don’t know.”
Quinn sat beside him a moment before speaking.
“I understand. This is only my second experience with an auxiliary company and forced induction,” he said slowly, seemingly lost in thought. “But you have to understand their problem, and the very real desperation they feel. I have seen the enemy, and fought him. They are terrible, ghastly. Men and women, and even children, their minds burned away and under the power of evil men. They are zombies, in name if not in fact, and utterly fearless in battle.”
“And they’re sweeping across the Leltic Lands,” Armin said grim-faced. “Joelle and I have also fought them. I’m sure Kestsax’s General Staff and king have their own spies and scouts, and are aware of the threat rolling towards them like an avalanche of humanity.”
“Exactly,” Quinn said, turning to look hard into Tane’s eyes. “They will be here soon enough. The Kestsaxians don’t have time to properly recruit and train soldiers. I suspect they took their best and started training them to fight the zombies, and the troublemakers and misfits were sent over here to whip us into shape.”
Bitterness welled up in Tane.
“Right, we’re the sword-fodder,” Tane said.
With that solemn note, they went up to their bay and began cleaning and polishing their boots. Tane thought the military mind insane while he worked. They made them stomp around in the mud and blood all day, and expected their clothes to be spotless and their boots to be shined to a mirror finish by the next morning. What was the use! His three comrades were no help, for they all professed a fondness of clean clothes and shined boots.
Raven returned with Corporal Pendar just at lights out. Both were grinning ear to ear. The heady scent of ale filled the air when Raven breezed past Tane. He noted she wore a long, thin votary braid at her left temple, to be kept as a reminder until she completed her vow. The God of Vows and Oaths would do terrible things to her if she failed to uphold her vow.
Sergeant Gareth came out of his room, and stared at her speculatively. Raven grinned at him, held up the votary braid, then began undressing shamelessly for bed. Tane could hardly believe she would so brazenly taunted him with what he wanted most from her. He couldn’t look at her, so wild and wanton. And naked.
His mouth went dry, a lump formed in his throat and it became hard to b
reathe. To take his mind off Raven, Tane covertly watched the sergeant as a dozen warring emotions fought for Gareth’s ugly face, from lust to fear to hate to finally resignation. He made a brusque threat about giving Raven extra duty if her boots didn’t have a proper “military” shine by formation, then stomped sullenly into his room.
“Well met,” Corporal Pendar said to Raven, sharing a grin with her. “Well met, indeed.”
Tane rolled over as the last oil lamp was turned low, more confused than ever. She had succeeded. He was sure everyone thought her doomed, including Corporal Pendar. But Gareth backed down, even knowing it would cause him to lose face. Raven had wagered her life, literally, that the sergeant didn’t have the stomach to chance her wrath. Pride swelled a brief instant, knowing one of his comrades had beaten the man bullying them. And then Tane knew a moment’s shame, for he knew he would never have courted such disaster. He would’ve been too afraid of the punishment for failure.
He heard Raven crawl up into her bunk, then mutter quietly, “Life is good.”
“It would be better if you crawled into my bunk,” Everard said from across the dark room, none too quietly, either.
Tane tensed. Though they had assigned bunks, the Vikon couple openly shared a single bunk. Neither the sergeant nor the corporals so much as raised an eyebrow at that.
“I’m too tired to go that far,” Raven laughed. “You come over here.”
Tane heard a bunk creak, then the sound of bare feet heading toward him. He feigned sleep, just cracking his eyes enough to see a dark shadow stop by his bunk. A second later the man crawled up into Raven’s bunk.
Then Raven giggled.
That was followed by Everard’s whispered words of desire. The kissing sounds that followed froze Tane’s heart, and they were quickly followed by grunts and groans.
Turning over, and pulling his pillow over his head as the bunk began to creak and rock, Tane thought, I don’t blame her. If I was her, I’d rather bed a proven warrior than a helpless swordsmith.
Belly of the Beast Page 7