OUR LAND
BY
James Tallett
Published by Deepwood Publishing, Inc.
First U.S. Edition: July 2017
Cover by Matt Davis
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Copyright © James Tallett, 2017
Deepwood Books written by James Tallett
TARRANAU
BREAKING AN EMPIRE
BLOODAXE
SPLINTERED LANDS: THROUGH FIRE FORGED
WOLVEN KINDRED
A DESERT OF FIRE AND GLASS
LANDS OF A DISTANT TRUTH
CHLODDIO
SPLINTERED LANDS: ALL GOOD THINGS...
SPLINTERED LANDS
WAR LANDS OF ARHOSA
LAECCAN WATERS
OUR LAND
SKYCITIES OF ARHOSA*
UNFOLDING A NEW CONTINENT*
*Forthcoming
ARRIVAL
There was rain that day, as Jacob helped pull the dinghy to shore. It slid inside his overcoat and soaked into his clothing, drenching him from head to toe. By the time the surf curled inside of his boots, he barely noticed the difference.
With a hand from the lads, he tugged the boat higher up the beach, pulling it clear of the swirling waves. Nearby lay sandy dunes, backed by a lush forest that shielded plains of grass. Scouts had been coming here for many a month, assessing the land, even planting a test crop, but the Colonel still would approve it based on his five minutes of prancing about. Jacob sighed. Internally, of course. It would never do to let discipline lapse.
With the boat now safely braced by Jacob and his men, Colonel Sherman descended, a conquer come to a new land. Ramrod straight, he strode up the beach, feet striking in perfect martial time. Colonel Sherman had long believed that acting with dignity could save a man's soul, and behaved accordingly.
Positioned so that he was perfectly framed by the untouched land behind him, Colonel Sherman about-faced and gave his pronouncement. “This, men, is our new home! Three cheers for Queen and country!” Dutifully, three cheers went up from the ragged assortment of sailors, marines and soldiers that had come ashore in the first boats. Formalities complete, the colonel gave the command to begin off-loading the cargo.
A crooked finger brought Jacob running. “Yes sir?”
“I want a trench about our position. And firing units on top of the three nearest dunes. Keep everything above the high water line. I don't want any of our gunpowder getting wet. Understood?”
“Yes sir!”
“Good. Dismissed.”
Jacob marched off, bellowing commands at the soldiers on the beach. More were disgorged every minute from the longboats making their way between ships and shore, and the limited space on the sand was quickly becoming cluttered.
As he set men to digging, Jacob wondered at how strange life had become. This was the first grand naval expedition, the first time the ships of Queen Cyninge had managed to penetrate the great barriers reefs that lay off the shore of her kingdom. Before now, only shallow draft cutters had made their way beyond the shoals.
Those cutters had been scouts, sent to search the wider world beyond the confines of the reefs. And they had done so admirably, for they had found the land upon which Jacob now stood, a green and pleasant expanse, untouched by the hand of civilization. No monarch could overlook such a gift, and so the Queen had claimed this land as the newest addition to her realm.
To secure her claim, the expedition just arrived had been mounted, with more than thirty ships carrying men and cargo. Two vessels had been lost on the crossing, but wastage had been accounted for, and so all supplies were carried in duplicate, if not triplicate.
The soldiers’ first task was to set up a military outpost, ensuring the safety of the beachhead and first colony from predators. And from any natives who might have the misfortune to be found. After that, true settlers would come, turning this terrain into farmland, a breadbasket of new and exotic foods for the courts and merchants of home.
Jacob smiled as he thought of this, for despite the strangeness and the travails of journey, to be chosen for the expedition was a great honour. Only the influence of his father, Lord Jacob Perlew III, had secured the position for him. For all the many unkind words they had had in the past, this was a true gift from the old man.
***
The trenches were coming along apace, so it was time to determine the rest of the fortifications. Climbing to the top of the nearest dune, Jacob surveyed the land for a moment, the swell of earth as it rose away from the shore. Berm? Or foxholes? A berm it was, and he set the next unit of soldiers to securing the central rise. A good job done, and now for command by strolling.
Clasping his hands behind his back, Jacob imitated the precise stride of the Colonel, his eyes sweeping across the working soldiers, his feet touching the ground in formal, measured, intervals. Even when there was not the slightest hint of a mistake, he offered tiny corrections, and only afterwards, grudging praise.
This continued for hour after hour, as the trenches became deeper and more elaborate and the small forts on the dunes grew to house the great mass of soldiers disembarking from the ships. Soon there were too many to work on the fortifications at the same time. A second shift was instituted, those men of the first teams given relief and allowed to set their tents. But only in the designated areas. Everything must be done according to the plan.
The camp swarmed over the land, growing wider and wider as supplies continued to come ashore. Finally, the artillery arrived, the six-pounder cannons moved into position atop the dunes loaded with a double of canister. Jacob nodded upon hearing that. That would do a number on any infantry foolish enough to assault the defences.
With the camp now officially safe, work ceased and the men settled in for the night. Tomorrow, three patrols in strength would head into the forest. New grounds with fresh water were to be picked for the next night's camp, and thus would the steady march of Queen Cyninge's soldiers into their new land begin.
***
Morning saw Colonel Sherman standing, ramrod straight as always, at the edge of the camp, his eyes raking the soldiers assembled for the patrols in force. “You will conduct yourself in the manner of the Queen, and you will be victorious. Defeat is punishable by death, so come back with your musket, or be buried next to it. You have your orders, and I expect messengers to return before the setting of the sun with reports of the most viable sites. March!”
Formed into perfect columns, the three patrols marched into the woods, although those were soon disrupted by trees and underbrush. Jacob was with the easternmost column, at the head as befitted an officer and a gentleman. With him came the one thousand of the Queen's Own, the Lifeguard Infantry. They were the finest soldiers in the army, drawn, unlike any other infantry regiment, exclusively from the sons of nobles.
To signify their special status, their uniform jackets were a black tartan, and their standard was the same. For centuries, other armies had felt the mighty sting of the Lifeguard Infantry and fallen before them. The regiment had never surrendered in battle. Their sole loss had come in the face of extreme odds, and even then the entire unit had been annihilated to a man rather than surrender. In the next battle, the reformed and rebuilt Lifeguard Infan
try had claimed their standard back.
Jacob watched as the first of the scouts came charging back towards him. In open terrain, the scout would have been on horseback, but here in the forest, he ran. Jacob raised one eyebrow as the scout stopped beside his horse. “Yes?”
“First clearing is a mile ahead, sir, but too small to house a proper fortress.”
“Very good. Get yourself watered, and then link up with the other scouts once more.”
“Yes sir!”
The scout jogged back to the store wagon, eager to take advantage of his extra alcohol ration. Jacob watched him go, briefly. A proper reward for proper service. That was what one did.
The march continued onwards, with several more clearings found and then dismissed. None of them were large enough to give clear fields of fire in all directions, and that was the first doctrine of the Lifeguard Infantry. Otherwise, they could not bring their withering musket volleys to bear.
Jacob was possessed of a growing melancholy, for he did not wish to be beaten in this, the first of many occasions in which he would be competing for the good graces of the Colonel. If the Colonel was pleased, he had been given the authority to make field promotions, and as every young officer knew, if the Colonel gave a field promotion, it was just as good as a real one, maybe better.
“Fredericks, how many scouts do we have in reserve at the moment?”
“Five, sir, and four messengers.”
“Send them out.”
“Including the messengers, sir?”
“No, save them, but I want all the scouts hunting for a clear space in these damned infernal woods. And tell them to double the distance they travel from the main body.”
Fredericks eyed him askance, but complied.
The scouts that returned to keep him aware of their progress were visibly wilting, and the day was starting to slip down towards dusk. If nothing was found within the next hour, he would have to send messengers back with nothing to report and make camp in a paltry bulwark. That would be a sad stain on the honour of the Lifeguards.
Despite his irritation, Jacob called the scouts back an hour before dusk. They had done their duty, and it was not their fault that no clearing could be found. As a reward for their labours, each was sent to the stores wagon with orders for a double ration of drink. But despite their efforts, this day the honour would go to another officer.
“Sir, we recommend turning south for one mile. There’s a clearing suitable for the nightly encampment there.”
“Not large enough for the entire force?” Jacob knew it wasn't, but one could always hope.
“No, sir.”
“Very well then, take two men and lead us.”
“Yes sir.”
The army slewed about to the roar of sergeants and the cry of trumpets, and soon the column of men was marching southwards, Jacob glowering at the head.
The clearing was as the scouts had said, wide enough the soldiers could form a tidy bulwark in the middle, but nowhere near large enough to serve as a staging post for the entire army's march inland.
“I want trees cut, logs formed into a palisade with a firing step on the inside. A trench in front, and combat spacing on the tents.”
“Sir, that will take us until after dark to see the work completed.”
“I know, Fredericks.”
“Yessir.”
Despite the initial protestations, work came on apace, and the sun had barely dipped below the horizon when Jacob was able to make his formal circuit of the barricades. He judged them adequate for a single night's defences, and said as much. The soldiers, unsure whether this was damnation with faint praise or actual praise, saluted and said nothing.
Satisfied that the camp would remain undisturbed, Jacob retired to formal dinner. Afterwards, a nice smoke calmed his lungs and his mind, and he slipped into bed, wishing he still had the affections of Madame Kurrie to keep him warm at night.
***
Jacob started from his bed, grabbing his pistol belt and slipping it about his waist as he charged from the tent. A musket had been discharged, and if it wasn't a real emergency, it was going to be for the soldier who had fired it.
His men pointed the way, and he was soon on the firing step, which bristled with two thirds of the men. The last third had been roused, but was being kept as a flying reserve in the centre of the encampment. Inwardly, he was pleased that in the time it had taken him to reach the wall, all of his soldiers were deployed and waiting. The Lifeguard Infantry was the best unit in the army, bar none.
Only a few moments passed before he was approached by the officer of the watch.
“Report!”
“Sir, we were fired upon from the woods. The musket was a defensive response.”
“Fired upon? I heard no shot.”
The officer answered by holding up a clothyard shaft, an arrow almost four feet in length. One flange of the barbed head was tinted red.
“Casualties?”
“A minor scrape. The offender had poor aim.”
“And our aim?”
“Successful.”
“Show me.”
The officer led Jacob towards the surgeon's tent. Pushing past the flaps, he found a tall humanoid laid out on the workbench, with the surgeon hovering nearby. One look told Jacob that the humanoid was deceased, for the musket ball had struck the middle of the creature's face, leaving little more than a red mess.
“Surgeon?”
“The creature is humanoid, as you can tell, and very thin, with green tints to hair and skin. A fairly thick coat of down covers the body, and the creature is a male, meaning there are likely females to be found in the near vicinity. Ears are shaped like those of a predator animal, presumably for better hearing in the forest. Due to the accuracy of the shot, I was unable to make a determination as to diet, or use of sight or scent. However, the creature does have enough knowledge to manufacture and use a bow, as you doubtless know. I would say we have met the first native inhabitant.”
Jacob nodded gravely. “Very well, I will wish to see a full report in the morning.”
“I'll do my best, sir.”
“See that you do. Colonel Sherman will be most interested.” With that, Jacob left the surgeon's tent, inspected the barricades one last time, and returned to his tent, where he fell into a contented sleep. He would have a most interesting report to write on the morrow.
With the coming of dawn, Jacob sent messengers, paired of course, back with the preliminary surgeon's finding, as well as a status report drawn up by the officer of the watch. Jacob had added his own thoughts to the matter before sending the messengers off, and he was feeling quite confident that he would be richly rewarded, in prestige if nothing else, for his ability to become the first officer to find a native.
“Oh. Bugger.”
“Sir?”
“Never mind.” A horrible thought had crept into Jacob's brain. What if the other patrols had found natives, and their reports came through as well? That would steal all the shock from the prior night's events. That fear ate at Jacob as he struggled through breakfast. He could barely taste the bacon, and the eggs had just too much salt on them for his liking. By the third course, he could barely sip the digestive alcohol and finish the meal. Still, he carried on.
While waiting for orders to return from Colonel Sherman, Jacob commanded the scouts to carry on their duties, but to do it in teams of three. Likewise, he set a few patrols of ten men each about the camp, in case any natives attempted to sneak in for a closer examination.
Although the prospects of resistance in force were decidedly remote, Jacob kept a third of the men on watch at any one time, and another third in the ready position. He deeply wished that he had been able to bring artillery with him, for canister and grapeshot would shred any foe foolish enough to charge across open ground, but the terrain of the forest had conspired against him in that regard.
The camp was settling in for the midday meal when trumpets rang out in the forest, immediat
ely answered by the herald at the barricade's gate. Colonel Sherman had come in person to see the native, something that both elated Jacob and filled him with dread.
“Sir, right this way if you please.”
The Colonel followed, his head scanning for the slightest hint of imperfection. Jacob cringed inwardly at the detailed reporting of flaws he would have to endure after this meeting was over.
The surgeon stuttered when he saw who had arrived in his tent. “Ah, hello sir.”
Colonel Sherman glared down. “Your full report.”
“Yes, yes, sir.” The surgeon paused a moment to gather himself. “The creature is over six feet tall, covered in light, downy fur, and with a predator's ear lobes. This being a forest creature, we presume that he hunts by stealth, sound, and scent as much as by sight. This would explain his miss during the night attack on our camp. He also has feet that can be used for grasping, and his ankles have a bone spur, making it very likely that this creature is arboreal in nature. Excavation revealed that the creature eats meat and crops in equal measure.”
“Crops did you say?”
“I'm sorry, I misspoke. Vegetables and greenery. There's no evidence of food that looks cultivated. Beyond that, we have a simple affinity for tools, crude leather clothing, a bow and arrow, no metal, and little enough stone. It looks as if this species makes do with what it can scavenge from the local area.”
“Are they intelligent? Do they travel in large groups? Military structure?”
The surgeon withered for a moment, then regained his strength. “They are probably on the same level as highly advanced apes, perhaps a little more. Enough to have the rudiments of civilization. This suggests that there are no armed forces as we would understand them, and that the species lives in family or tribal units, rather than formal societal structures. They are, at best, barbarians.”
“Barbarians living in a paradise. We shall have to see that this land belongs to those who truly understand the gift they have been given. Very well, a commendation to you for your work. I want you to continue your efforts, and if any books have been brought with the ships that might help in your work, I shall see them delivered forthwith.”
Our Land (Queen's Own Book 1) Page 1