03 - Call to Arms

by Mitchel Scanlon - (ebook by Undead)

  Blood spurting from his broken nose, Krug fell backwards onto the ground. Despite the shock of the impact, Krug had managed to keep a grip on his sword, but as he looked around him it was clear he was at a disadvantage.

  Dieter loomed over him. Cautiously staying outside the reach of Krug’s sword, he raised his own weapon and made ready to charge forward to administer the killing thrust.

  “Wait!” Krug held up his hand in a warding gesture. He lifted his face to look at Dieter and begged for his life. “Whatever you think of me, we are members of the same regiment. We are Scarlets. We are comrades. Please. You can’t just kill me…”

  Distracted, Dieter hesitated. Around them, the rest of the regiment was stirring, roused from sleep by the sound of the fight. Abruptly, it occurred to Dieter that if he ran Krug through it might seem to the others he had murdered him. Dieter would have nothing to support his story that Krug had tried to kill Kuranski.

  Reading Dieter’s hesitation as weakness, Krug’s face took on a crafty gleam. Before Dieter could stop him, he began to call out loudly.

  “Help! Murder! Someone please help me! He’s trying to kill Kuranski!”

  Within moments, the sentries had raced onto the scene. The rest of the Scarlets soon followed them. Dieter found himself surrounded, his sword pulled from his hand, as men rushed forward to interpose themselves between him and Krug.

  “What in the name of Sigmar’s holy arse is going on here?” Sergeant Bohlen roared as he arrived onto the scene.

  “It was the young blood!” Krug said, as the assembled men tried to hold him and Dieter back from each other. “He’s gone mad! I found him trying to smother Kuranski! Then, when I tried to stop him, he attacked!”

  “He’s a liar!” Dieter yelled, pushing against the hands of the men who held him back. “He’s the one who was trying to murder Kuranski! I stopped him!”

  “Shut up, both of you!” Bohlen growled. “Before we go any further with this, has anyone thought to check the supposed victim?”

  “I did,” Gerhardt said. While everyone else’s attention was on the fight, he had knelt down beside Kuranski. He stood back up and turned to Bohlen.

  “He’s still breathing, but he’s unconscious. I can’t rouse him. Whether that’s because of his fever, or because someone tried to choke him, I don’t know. But I found this lying on the ground beside him.”

  He held out the balled-up cloth.

  “Yes, that’s it!” Krug shouted. “That’s the cloth I saw in the young blood’s hands. He was trying to force it into Kuranski’s mouth while he held his nose shut with his fingers.”

  “Liar!” Dieter yelled, pushing even more fervently against the hands that restrained him.

  It occurred to him abruptly that he had no way of proving his story. It was his word against Krug’s.

  To make matters worse, Krug was a polished liar. Dieter suspected it was proof his opponent had been in such situations before, but Krug was so convincing in his story that Dieter would have been tempted to believe him himself if he hadn’t known better.

  “You see how he keeps going for me,” Krug said, insidiously. “That’s what he was like before. I tell you he’s a madman.”

  “Pushing a cloth into the mouth while holding the nose shut is an old bodysnatcher’s trick, isn’t it?” Rieger said, pushing his way through the crowd of gathered soldiers. “I hear they kill people that way because it doesn’t leave marks. And you have already argued that Kuranski should be ‘put out of his misery’. You can’t deny that, Krug. Everyone heard you.”

  He cast a significant glance at Krug, who glowered back at him in silence.

  “I don’t care who did what, or how they did it, or what they did it with,” Sergeant Bohlen said at last. “In case no one noticed, we are up against it. We are on our own. For all we know the greenskins are on our trail. They could attack tomorrow. They may even attack tonight. That being the case, I don’t have the time to pick over the bones of your squabbles. I don’t care which one of you is guilty. I don’t care which one is innocent.”

  He let the point sink in. Then, he continued.

  “We don’t have time for private duels. With the greenskins breathing down our necks, I need every man I’ve got. That means you two don’t get to kill each other—no matter how much you want to. Try it again and I’ll have you both executed for breach of discipline in a time of war. You’ll be hung from the nearest tree branch, and I’ll make sure there’s not enough slack in the rope to break your necks. You’ll die slow, your feet kicking in the air. You understand me?”

  The two men nodded.

  “Good, because there’s more. I’m putting you both on warning. If anything happens to either of you now, even if one of you dies mysteriously in his sleep, I’m going to assume the other man killed him. And I’ll hang the survivor. So, congratulations, you are both now responsible for each others’ lives.”

  Bohlen turned to look at the men holding Dieter and Krug.

  “All right, release them. And give them back their swords. I won’t ask the two of you to shake hands and pretend everything is dandy. But remember my words. I consider both your lives a small price to pay if that’s what it takes to keep discipline in the regiment. Bear that in mind. Now, get back to sleep, all of you.”

  With that, Sergeant Bohlen turned away and headed back to his sleeping place. Krug glowered at Dieter for a moment. Then, he turned away himself, Febel trailing after him like a faithful dog. Soon, the rest of the men had dispersed, leaving Dieter standing with Gerhardt, Rieger and Hoist.

  “I wasn’t lying,” Dieter said quietly. “When I came upon him, Krug was trying to kill Kuranski.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Gerhardt said. His face was grim. “Before, when I told you to stay away from Krug, I didn’t envision him doing something like this. Don’t get me wrong—he’s always been a bastard. Normally you make exceptions for a man’s flaws when you are in the same regiment together. But I never thought he’d go so far.”

  “It was lucky you came on him when you did,” Hoist said. “Otherwise, Kuranski would be murdered and no one would be any the wiser. That’s the thing to remember. You did good here, Dieter.”

  “Still, I would take the sergeant’s words to heart,” Rieger added. “Bohlen is not the kind to make idle threats. Make sure you stay away from Krug. The three of us will watch your back, so you needn’t worry about Krug or one of his cronies sticking a knife in it.”

  “But what about justice?” Dieter asked. “Krug tried to murder a comrade. Are you telling me he just gets away with it?”

  The three men looked at each other uneasily. Eventually, it was Gerhardt that answered.

  “For now he does. It is not a perfect world, Dieter Lanz. Sometimes, it is beyond our powers to see that evil men are punished. We are soldiers, not kings or lawmakers. Sometimes, it is best to let sleeping dogs lie. You do your duty. And you hope for the best. As for justice, that is not within our reach.” Gerhardt shrugged. “Soldiers must see to soldiering, Dieter Lanz. Leave justice for the gods.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  A SORT OF HOMECOMING

  “Well, it looks quiet enough,” Hoist said. “Although I suppose there’s only one way to know for sure.”

  He was crouched beside the log of a fallen tree alongside Dieter and Rieger. Ahead of them lay a water mill, nestled cunningly among the trees so it was all but invisible from the forest trail that ran by the side of it. Having spotted the place while they scouted ahead of the rest of the regiment, the three men had immediately crept toward it for a closer look.

  In accordance with its isolated position in the forest, the mill was fortified against attack. It was surrounded by a high wall on all sides. The deep and fast-flowing stream that fed the mill’s waterwheel crossed the wall courtesy of a tunnel beneath it that entered underneath the western section of the wall and emerged from under the east. The only entrance past the wall was through a set of impressive wooden gates, fashioned from t
hick timber planks and held together with iron bands and nails. The windows of the mill building itself that were visible from over the wall were covered in wooden shutters, while there were a series of murder holes, designed to allow missile fire against a besieging enemy without exposing the archer to counter-fire, set near the top of the exterior wall.

  From the outside, the mill appeared to be deserted. In the quarter of an hour that Dieter and the others had stood watching it, there had been no sign of movement from inside.

  “It’d be a tough nut to crack,” Hoist said. “Look at those iron spikes at the top. You can bet there’ll be sharp stones and blades set into the top of the wall to make it harder to climb.”

  “Hopefully, we won’t have to,” Rieger said. He cast a quick look at the forest around them. “We should pull back, tell Sergeant Bohlen what we’ve found. It’s up to him what our next move will be. The place looks deserted, but who knows? It’s locked up tighter than a merchant’s strongbox. Even if the mill is empty, we could find it’s a hell of task to get in there.”

  “Hallooo!” Gerhardt called out for the fifth time. “Is anyone there? We are Hochland troops! There’s nothing to be scared of!”

  He was standing in front of the mill’s gates. After Dieter and the others had made their report, Sergeant Bohlen had decided the mill needed further investigation. He had ordered the men of the regiment to take up positions surrounding the mill, ready to fight if the situation should turn unexpectedly violent.

  “Nothing,” Gerhardt said, once he returned to the place where the sergeant was waiting, beneath the branches of an old, shady oak. “Either they’re deaf or there’s nobody in there. The gate is barred from the inside, but that means nothing. The last man to leave could have locked the bar, then dropped down over the wall to exit the place.”

  “Could there be greenskins in there?” Bohlen asked. “Or other ambushers?”

  “I wouldn’t think so,” Gerhardt said. “I made myself a decent target standing out in the front of the gates like that. I can’t imagine any orc or goblin possessing the self-control not to take a shot at me. Or beastmen either, for that matter. Of course, there could be someone inside, biding their time. There’s only one way we’d find out.”

  “Hmm, there could be food in there,” Bohlen said, considering the matter aloud. “And blankets, cook-ware, salt, other supplies. Then, there’s the fact that the place is fortified. If we got inside, we could spend the night there. It would be nice to spend a night in relative comfort for once, in a place of safety. Good for morale as well.”

  “And then, there’s the question of Kuranski,” Gerhardt added. “His condition is worse. The wound has developed gangrene. Right now, I’d say his only chance is if someone amputates his leg, removing the source of infection. It would easier to do that in a place where there is a table, lanterns, sheets for bandages, perhaps even some medical supplies.”

  “A messy business, that. Not for the squeamish. Say we did spend the night in the mill, who would do the operation? You?”

  Gerhardt nodded. His face was grim.

  “You are sure you can manage it?” Bohlen asked. “You know what you’re doing?”

  “I’ve never amputated a man’s leg before, if that’s what you’re asking. But I’ve assisted in the medical tent when a surgeon was doing one. I’ve seen how it’s done.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I can’t say I’m looking forward to it. But I don’t see how there’s any other choice. Even then, Kuranski’s chances are slim.”

  “Very well,” Bohlen nodded slowly, considering the issue a few seconds longer. “In that case, the decision is not a difficult one. See if you can find the young blood—Lanz—and bring him to me. If we’re going to break into a mill, it makes sense to use a soldier who used to live in one.”

  “It’s either climb over the wall, or break down the gates,” Dieter said once the sergeant had told him what he wanted. “If this place is anything like the mill I grew up in—and from all appearances, it is—then those are the two best ways into it.”

  “Breaking down the gates is no good,” the sergeant said. “We might not be able to lock them again afterwards, while we’re spending the night. What about the mill stream? Couldn’t a man wade through the tunnel under the wall, holding his breath when it gets deep?”

  “It wouldn’t work,” Dieter told him. “There’ll be an iron grille part way through the tunnel to block that kind of thing. There may even be hooks set into the grille and the walls to catch any swimmers and make sure they drown. These mills in the wilds are always well fortified against raiders. They have to be, or the miller and his family would never survive.”

  “All right,” Bohlen said. “We will make ourselves a makeshift rope and grapnel. We can use it to send a man over the wall. Does that meet with your approval, Dieter Lanz?”

  “It does… I mean, it should work, sergeant.”

  “Good. I am glad you are happy with it. Especially because you are the one who will be doing the climbing.”

  It was not a difficult climb, even given the jury-rigged nature of the rope and grapnel he had been given to help him. Still, Dieter found he was nervous at the thought he could be about to climb over the wall and come face-to-face with the enemy.

  Granted, there was not much chance of that. At least, that was what he told himself as he made ready to launch his one-man assault against the mill’s outer wall. Hoist and Rieger were beside him, ready to offer moral support and an initial physical lift, as he stood at the foot of the wall considering his options for ascent.

  “It’s not that tall, really,” Hoist said. “I’d estimate it as no more than two and half times, maybe three times, the height of a man—and not a particularly tall man, either. Frankly, he was a bit of a short arse, whoever he was. And it could be worse. It’s not like you’re climbing a siege ladder under fire, while the enemy pours a rain of stones and boiling oil down on your head. In comparison, this should be easy.”

  “Be careful when you get to the top,” Rieger said beside him. “Don’t put your hand on the top of the wall to pull yourself up until you’ve checked it’s clear. When a wall like this is built, the builders will often leave sharp stones, old rusty blades, caltrops, broken glass and pottery shards set into the top— anything sharp. And make sure you stay alert for loose stones. The wall may not be that tall, but it’s big enough for the fall to break your skull if you lose your footing. And remember, if you encounter any trouble, don’t worry about opening the gates. Get out of there as quickly as possible and any way you can.”

  In place of real climbing equipment, Dieter was forced to make do with a rough approximation of a rope that had been created by tearing off pieces of cloth from his comrades’ uniforms, twisting the pieces around each other and knotting them together. A short section of stout tree branch, tied to the end of the makeshift rope, served duty as a grapnel.

  Twirling the tree branch above his head from the end of the rope with one hand while he held the slack with the other, Dieter held his breath and threw the grapnel. He struck gold with the first cast, the wooden branch wedging itself between two of the iron spikes at the top of the wall. Tugging on the rope to make sure it was set firmly in position, Dieter took another breath and started climbing.

  “Good luck,” Rieger said, pushing on Dieter’s backside to help him up the wall. “Sigmar go with you.”

  “Aye, good luck,” Hoist echoed his companion as he pushed Dieter with him. “See you when you open the gates.”

  As a child Dieter had loved climbing trees, so the wall presented no great barrier. Reaching the summit, he saw Rieger had been right to warn him: sharp pieces of broken glass and old iron nails were dotted among the small stones at the top of the wall. Grabbing hold of the base of the iron spikes on either side of him, he carefully levered himself up onto the wall and looked cautiously around him.

  The courtyard that separated the mill house from the fortified wall around it was deserted. Satisfied that ther
e was no sign of life anywhere in the parts of the mill in front of him, Dieter gestured the all clear to Hoist and Rieger below him. Leaving the rope still in place, he eased himself onto the narrow rampart that ran around the inner circumference of the wall. Finding the rampart to be little more than some planking shored up with packed earth intended to give extra strength to the wall, Dieter looked about him and saw a wooden ladder leading down from the rampart to the courtyard. Scanning his surroundings one more time to reassure himself, he followed the ladder downwards.

  Reaching the courtyard floor, he felt relieved to see there was no horde of goblins charging out to meet him. If anything, the mill seemed eerily quiet.

  Hurrying to the gates, he removed the wooden bar holding them closed and pulled the gates open.

  “You took your time, country boy. I was starting to think you must have fallen and broken your stupid neck.”

  Dieter was unpleasantly surprised to see Krug’s sneering face waiting for him when he opened the gates. Krug stood at the head of a small scouting party of Scarlets. Despite Sergeant Bohlen’s instructions to the both of them on the previous night, it was clear Krug maintained nothing but hatred for Dieter.

  “Get out of the way, country boy.” Krug sneered as the others in the scouting party pushed past Dieter. “Or were you waiting for some kind of reward just because you managed to climb a wall? A pat on the back, perhaps? A celebratory cheer?”

  Still sneering, Krug rejoined the rest of the scouting party as they fanned out across the courtyard. With swords drawn and shields at the ready in case of trouble, they moved to investigate the mill house and its outbuildings.

  “Everything clear?” Dieter heard Gerhardt’s voice behind him as he stood in the shadow of the gates and watched the scouting party go about their duties.

  Turning, Dieter saw Gerhardt, Rieger and Hoist approaching the open gates at the head of a mixed group of Scarlets and handgunners.