Fletcher

by P. S. Power

  The enemy might come for them directly, given that, since waiting for a larger force to come in as support would make it a fair fight. It was always easier to win the unfair ones.

  Smiling, a bit grimly, Anders tried to focus on the different magics he needed. What he really had to have was a magical name for animals. There was one in his mind for men, which could be used for any person, or he supposed, person shaped being. Animals were different and it had come up several times that having that kind of thing ready to go would be more than a little helpful.

  So, he worked with a new word, bestle, since it wasn’t a real word and wouldn’t get too confusing for him that way, later. That and a sense of a waving line was put together in his mind, recorded in the hall of memory for such things. Then gone over as he walked, hundreds of times, trying to make it a magical construct that would hold real power when uttered properly. At least for him.

  Then, carefully, he worked three animal hunting arrows around. The spell was complex, since it would, in theory, strike out at any large beast within ten paces of the arrow when released. Then it would cause a single explosion in the head of the animal, which should kill it instantly, without wasting any of the good meat on it.

  After about half a mile, he stopped and strung his yew bow, got one of the arrows out and slowly started to walk along the edge of the water. It still took a very long time to find the animals, even with fairly good directions to them. They were in the trees, not in the open or near the water. His arms were tired from carrying the bow around like he was, which wasn’t a thing he would have ever considered before that moment. The strung bow was nearly six feet tall and while not heavy, it was awkward to walk around with. Cumbersome and doing it silently, or as close to that as he could get, which wasn’t very much so at all, placed strain on the muscles of his left shoulder.

  Making it almost a relief when he was able to draw the bow and shoot it. Then, moving quickly, he did it twice more. It was impulsive but he didn't want to miss and send the animals running off for safety. There were ten of the things and several loud popping sounds happened all at one time. The herd ran away, as he feared.

  When he jogged over, his bow still in hand, with a regular arrow nocked, even if it wasn’t really going to help anything, not only was a large animal dead on the ground, five of them were.

  “That worked then. Now, what can I do with these things?”

  His plan had been to make one of the beasts lighter, using his new spell word to name them, then push or pull it along. That or carry the lightened form over his shoulder.

  Five of them seemed like it wouldn’t work well that way. They also weren’t small stones that could be pushed or pulled around on the ground.

  “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to fly back to the camp for me, would you?”

  The words, while unlikely, did give him an idea. One that probably wouldn’t work. If the things were made light enough, he could, potentially lift them from the ground. Then using the rope, he had with him, tug them all along behind him. As they floated in the air, as if in water.

  At the same time, if he could get them to hang upside down, they might be bled first. It would lead to better tasting meat.

  The whole operation was horribly difficult. After five attempts, each of the animals, which really were large, if not all the size of a big horse, lost enough weight that they could be pulled up by a rope over a tree branch for bleeding. While they did that, feeling the stress of the spells, he tried to rework what was needed to get them back.

  When the blood stopped dripping, he let all of the spells go, stopping the magic. Then he tried again. They needed to be much lighter than they had been. Enough to leave the ground on their own. That didn’t have to be high up in the air or anything, which was good. Even getting them two feet above the Earth required him to do so much work that he was panting and gasping when it actually happened. Then, had to tie them in a line, like a wagon train.

  It did work, allowing Anders, who was neither large nor strong in particular, to drag the things along behind him. The rope cut into his hand as he did it, the unfamiliar effort making his shoulders, arms and back all ache.

  Worse, half his time was being spent untangling the animals, or the pull line, from trees or bushes encountered along the way. The whole time he was gasping, as if trying to carry them all on his shoulders. Which in a way, he really was. At the same time, even as uncomfortable as he was, his chest hurting from the heaving he was doing, he kept seeing useful food plants as he traveled. That meant carefully stopping to collect them and tie them into bundles in order to get them back to the camp.

  Naturally it was well past noon when he got back in, the five beasts being dragged behind him, his sweat covered body loaded down with herbs and leaves for eating. The soldiers were all tending to their building jobs, the camp having grown while he was off seeing to his own entertainment. No one ran up to him, until he got close enough to the cooks for them to see what he was bringing in for them.

  Then the head cook walked over, his eyes going huge.

  Anders nodded at the man and waved, breathing so hard it seemed as if he was just done sprinting.

  “Where?” He pointed, the man getting the idea. No normal man or even two was moving one of the things easily on their own. That meant setting them in the right place to start with would help a lot.

  “This way. We have an area marked out for slaughtering. You bled them already?”

  Their throats had all been cut, which, Anders realized, didn't mean that much. Every animal that he’d brought in so far had been treated in a different way, each time. Some with large holes in them. Others no sign of injury at all. The fish were just plucked from the water and brought in whole, for instance. The walk to the butchering pit was only about twenty paces. Then, it was just an area marked out on the ground, with rocks marking the corners. If more than that was planned for it, nothing had happened yet. Then, the cooks had jobs to do, once in camp. Making three real meals a day, if they had food for it.

  Things like lining areas with rocks or making solid work tables would take more time. Most of the construction going on was being done with whole logs, since even the work of cutting them was too much. Anders couldn’t really help that way, not having a spell worked out that could work as a magical saw. He might be able to burn wood, or make it explode to good effect but that was about all. Even at that, it would take several explosive hits, about ten, to go through a log of any size.

  He’d tried it a few times for practice. Rather, Depak Sona had set him the task, to make certain he had a quick spell to rely on.

  Looking at him, his eyes still wider than normal, the head cook waved downward.

  “In the marked off square will work. As well as anything, right now.”

  Nodding, his breath still painful, Anders closed his eyes.

  “Fen.” That trick was a new one for him that Depak hadn’t mentioned at all. Setting the time, so it was left open. Fen ot fen. Now to now.

  There was an Earth shaking thud as the heavy meat hit the ground. Then, still gasping, his breath not recovering simply due to the effort not taking place any longer, he slowly pulled the different plants off, naming them as herb, which meant flavorful, bitter, which were healing and health promoting or edible. Things that were food, if still plants.

  The cook was good at his job and understood what each thing was and how to use it, even if some of them weren’t that common in a camp like they were using. The wild lettuce was almost a waste, since he didn’t have enough of it for everyone to eat, even if it was still young enough not to have a bitter flavor to it. There had also been berries, which he’d walked past, not bothering with at all. Those would require a pot or bag to pick and most of them hadn’t been ripe enough yet. A few looked good, so he planned to go back and perhaps use some of the sugar and flour he’d brought to make a field pie of sorts. It wasn’t a rich thing made with butter but could serve well enough as a treat.

  That
sort of thing would have to be done later in the day, in secret, to prevent the men from getting too jealous. He felt bad about not getting enough for everyone, even if it wasn’t his fault. His job was to see to Master Tolan, so if there was only enough for a few pies, then that was the man who had to get them first.

  Looking at him, the cook nodded as the rest of the cooks, all of them, walked over, with several large knives, all heading toward a different animal. One of them saw the things and grinned, waving his blade a bit.

  “We aint doing this one each. Work in three teams, ya think, Cookie?”

  That got a smile from the head cook in response.

  “As we must. Hurry though. We can use some of this for tonight. I don’t suppose we could get you back in to freeze this all for us, Master Brolly? Otherwise it might go bad before we can use it.” The fellow looked off as he said it. Strained.

  As if that might be too much to ask for. That or too hard to do. Holding things as frozen wasn’t a real strain at all, once the initial work was done. Not like floating things through the air. That had been brutal. Not that he was going to admit it. The constant work had nearly felt like it might kill him, for the last ten minutes. Only the fact that he’d been almost in the camp had allowed him to push through the pain.

  “I can… do that. Can I… Get food?” He’d missed mid-meal. His stomach was protesting the lack as well.

  Truly, he figured the men wouldn’t have anything ready that could be eaten. Instead one of the other men ran off, coming back after a minute with a healthy slice of white cheese and some hard bread. That was a camp ration and not that much fun to eat, while still not being the horrible long term rations that the men all spoke about being glad they hadn’t had to use so far.

  “Here you go, Master. Do we simply come and find you when we have the meat ready? I don’t know how that works.”

  His breath starting to come under control, he thought for a moment. He was still tired, if not as much as he’d been while actively working. Eating was the first priority. A thing that would take a few moments. Then he needed to set up his fletching station, since it was his job there. He’d lost one of the arrows earlier, the thing having hit an elk in the head, it’s skull destroying the thing somehow.

  “I should be over by the Prince’s camp, working on setting things up. Not that we need a thousand arrows. I need to find staves for that, if I can.” That meant going out to find trees of the proper sorts, he suspected. Then trimming the branches from them.

  “Got it then. I’ll jog over to get you, or send a man, if we have any by then. Probably me, since everyone else is out on wood crew duty. That’s going to be the thing for the first week. The men will be glad to be well fed. Can we get more of those fish, do you think? The variety is nice, if it’s a thing that can happen.”

  There was glaring from the other cooks, the man blushing red and looking away, as if it wasn’t proper to mention that kind of thing. Being it had sort of been the only thing he’d done there that helped in a real way at all so far, it made sense to ask after getting more food in.

  “We can freeze those too? I’ll try to get more, near sundown, when the fish surface to feed. Tomorrow I should work on finding more edible plants. It’s early for much other than new roots and a few types of greens. The hard apples are almost ripe enough. The sour kind. Those sweeten some when you cook them, don’t they?” Senna had mentioned that and one of the cooks who hadn’t spoken to him at all, the entire time, seeming not to like him much, nodded.

  Then moved directly over to start butchering the animals. The others did that too, calling back.

  It was the head man there who spoke.

  “We can freeze fish well enough, as well. Meat keeps that way, though we only do that with winter kills normally. If we pile it all together it should stay cold longer. Maybe find some straw or hay to cover it with. I’ll ask after things for that. You should go and sit for a bit, after this. Huge beasts. Nearly two weeks of food right here, as to meat. Maybe more than that, since we might keep it.”

  They got busy, meaning he went to his little makeshift camp spot, to find that it was gone. Moved to the side, by ten paces, so a small hut could be built. It was decently solid and directly next to three others. Constructed of rough logs that still had bark on them. The rooves were flat, though on a slant. They’d need to be covered with something to shed rain. Branches or leaves might work for that. As he sat, looking at the things, Prince Alpert started to wave to him, saw that he was eating and walked over.

  “Anders! Keeping out of the way? That’s good. Captain Horner was worried that you might be under foot. Trying to help. It’s just that you lack the experience to do much here, from what he was saying.”

  The cheese was almost done by the time the man got there and finished in one small bite, a bit of hard bread with it. That was chewy and lasted longer than soft bread might.

  “Then he was being kind. Clearly, I also lack the strength and size for the work. I went out and managed to get five elk. Some greens as well. The cooks are butchering those right now. It was… not easy, getting them back here. It should be food for a week or more. I need to set up to make new arrows, even if that isn’t a real job here. Not with only two bows and a few crossbows like we have. After that, I was hoping to get to pulling more fish from the lake here. This thing is so vast we might be able to feed everyone here just from that, if the need arises.” That was the sort of thing that he didn’t really know. It was a simple lack of experience.

  Alpert looked at him, then nodded.

  “That would be good, if you get the chance. We didn’t want to mention anything, but the flour is pretty much gone already. We were hoping to buy some locally. There’s a town about ten miles down the side road, to the south west of here. One big enough they might have supplies to sell, even for mid-summer. Extra food is the top priority right now, after the battlements. Can we set you to doing that, do you think? It isn’t what you were trained for.”

  The man seemed to be strained at the idea, as if it was important.

  “Certainly. I’ll see to that now, then? There are some plants I could go and gather. I have a little flour and some sugar in my gear. It’s meant for Master Tolan. We can share that out, if the need comes. About three pounds of sugar and twenty of flour.” He’d only been able to bring so much with him. There was also animal fat, since it kept better than any other kind did.

  The words got a single nod.

  “Keep that safe, for now. We might want it for ourselves, in the coming weeks. We’ll try to get some in. Thank you, Anders. I’ll be certain to let Captain Horner know that you weren’t getting in the way. That cabin there is yours. The men were told to make one each for the important people, so they included you. Probably understanding who’s been getting half their food in.” He smiled then, waving at the one on the end.

  It was essentially a cave made out of wood. The walls were rough, the floor unpacked dirt. There was even grass inside, on the floor, growing in place, still. There was no covering for the door, which was just a hole. From the light coming through it wasn’t tight either. What it was, he realized, was thick. The logs for it, stacked and laying on their sides, the wood cut in places to make it fit, were each the size of the Prince’s leg. No stray arrow would be easily going through them.

  “That was kind of them, then. To that end I should get more food in, if I can. Master Tolan helped with that a lot, telling me where the elk were. That was a walk. About half a mile. We…” He didn’t want to seem cowardly, since the man was his Father. Still, the truth was the truth. “I don’t want to risk running into enemy scouts or anything. If I hurry and do the hunting in the next days, that should be safe enough. I can fish in the evenings, I think. We’re setting up a frozen area, like a cool pile, with ice? Only for the meat. Though…” It occurred to him that it was a lot more work, though he shrugged. “I could make ice as well? We have a lot of water here, and it’s getting warm in the day, even by the water. W
e could have cool drinks that way and keep the meat and greens cool.”

  That kind of thing was going to be a waste of time. Enough so that he nearly set the idea aside. Instead the Prince chuckled.

  “Do that and the men will probably build you a miniature palace. You aren’t wrong. The heat of summer is upon us. Soon we’ll be baking most of the day or would if not being on the water’s edge. The enemy won’t have that going for them. Nor will those marching to aid us. Food first, if we have to set priorities. You aren’t wrong. We might end up under a siege of sorts. Having enough to hold us behind our walls here would be for the best in that case.”

  The man just walked away then, not looking back at all. Anders moved first Master Tolan’s gear, then his own, tucking it into the tiny huts that had been arranged for them. They really weren’t big. The one for Master Tolan was larger than his own, by half the length. Next to that was the biggest one, which was four times larger than that. On the other side was one which was smaller again, clearly meant for the Captain.

  Trying not to be underfoot, the rest of the afternoon was spent freezing things for the cooks, collecting greens and even if he had been told not to focus on it, making buckets of ice, to pack around the things that he’d gotten, so they might keep.

  After the late meal, he moved to the water’s edge, well away from the camp, and tried to fish. He got a lot of them, though he needed to move several times, in order to find a good selection. The issue there was that most of the big fish were cleverly not going into the shallow waters. He could get them ten paces away from the edge but no further than that. It still worked, letting him make several trips to the storage area for the meat and new greens, with bags filled to the level he nearly couldn’t have carried more. Then they were frozen and nestled into the growing pile of cold things, a puddle forming under the mound, as the ice melted. No one complained about that, yet.