by Aldus Baker
Tomac knocks away Jalan’s hand. “You didn’t have to hit me,” he says, hurt and anger intertwine with his words.
“I didn’t mean to,” says Jalan before Tomac’s words fully register.
Tomac begins to stand up straight. “I didn’t even see you swing. Did you kick me or something?”
“No. No I didn’t kick you.” Jalan tries to push his panic away and think. The fog of his sudden fatigue is not helping. “I just got upset when you laughed.”
Some of the anger fades from Tomac’s eyes. “I don’t even know why I laughed. You had that look on your face. It seemed kind of funny at first, but not anymore. Especially not after you hit me.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t even know what happened. I just did it.”
Tomac looks almost back to normal. He says, “Master Enmar can deliver your horses next time. I’d like to see what happens if you try to hit him.”
The notion of anything close to this happening with Master Enmar is almost enough to start Jalan panicking again until he realizes Tomac said something about delivering horses. “What horses?”
“The horses I just brought you. Master Enmar knew you would be too busy so he found horses for you, a palfrey and a couple of fine chargers.”
“Three horses? I worked so hard trying to make certain each of my men have two. I forgot to even find one for myself.”
“And you took it out on me,” says Tomac.
“I really am sorry,” says Jalan. More sorry that I can say.
“Not as sorry as you will be next time we spar.”
Tomac’s tone is serious but his smile shows that he has nearly forgiven Jalan. If all it takes is letting Tomac get past his guard once or twice the next time they spar then it is a small price to pay for accidentally using the Ability on his brother a second time. Jalan knows he is lucky. Lucky that no one else saw what happened and lucky that Tomac thinks Jalan punched him. And even luckiest of all that his brother brought horses. Jalan can feel the big smile on his face. I have the best brother. “Let’s go see the horses,” says Jalan.
The boys walk to the rope corral erected to one side of Barracks Three. There are plans to build corrals near each of the barracks, but the lancers are making due with the simpler temporary structures. Tomac points out Jalan’s three horses among the couple of dozen in the corral.
“That grey one is Stone. The black with the white flecks over there is Axe and the smaller fellow here,” says Tomac as he points at a brown and white horse standing near them, “is Bottle.”
Both Stone and Axe are beautiful horses. Stone is barrel chested and has the look of a powerful runner. Axe has a wide chest, long neck and high tail. He looks as though he might be the fastest. Bottle has a good back and steep rump. He will make a good pack horse and general riding horse. His gate is not as long as Stone’s or Axe’s. Jalan does not see any obvious flaws. All three are fine animals and Jalan is excited to have them for his own.
“I have to go. Master Enmar expects me back right away,” says Tomac.
Jalan remembers what daily training is like. It has only been a week since he became a captain but it seems forever since a time when all he had to concentrate on was doing whatever Master Enmar told him to do. “Thank you for bringing the horses. And, thank Master Enmar too!” says Jalan as Tomac turns and begins his jog back to the Training Hall.
“I will!” calls Tomac over his shoulder.
A feeling of being alone with too many concerns has lifted a little. He tries not to feel overwhelmed and relies on Sedic as much as he can, but being the captain means he is responsible for his men. He was feeling cut off. Now he has three wonderful reminders that he is not alone. His family loves him and Master Enmar still looks out for him. Jalan does not know how, but right now he is willing to believe that things will work out.
“Captain,” says Sedic. He is standing at the corner of the barracks waiving Jalan over. “The men have some questions and you and I need to talk, sir.”
Jalan takes one more look at his horses mixed in among the others in the corral. He is part of something bigger and he had better get on with it. He still has to go to the manor house and pack his own gear. But, he feels ready to face whatever the next challenge might be. “Coming,” he says and walks toward Sedic.
Δ
By midmorning the caravan of 20 wagons, 30 lancers, various merchants, crafters, teamsters, five merchant guards and 50 additional horses is loosely moving west in a line strung out over half a mile of road. Jalan has lancers in the lead and at the tail of the column. Eight of the wagons are driven by men from his company. It was cool when they left Yen Estate. The day is warmer, almost hot, as the sun reaches toward its zenith. The road runs mostly through farmland with an occasional stand of trees providing brief periods of shade.
Jalan rides Axe. The horse quickly responds to cues. It took time to realize that Axe was not being headstrong but that Jalan was being too forceful when directing Axe. Jalan groomed and saddled the horse that morning in order to spend what time he could bonding. But the ride provides the real opportunity for horse and rider to learn about each other. All the lancers are in full armor at Jalan’s direction. He has not worn his armor regularly and is certain it will take some getting used to. It seems likely that all the lancers will need time to adjust and Sedic agrees it is a good idea. Even though there has been no sign of the enemy near Yen Estate, the lancers could come upon them at any time.
Jalan’s armor has many parts. A plate mail cuirass covers his chest and stomach. A backplate connects to the cuirass to provide protection for his back. Hanging from the waist of the cuirass are skirt like banded metal strips called faulds. The faulds protect Jalan’s waist and hips. Strapped onto his upper legs are cuisses, curved plates of metal that protect his thighs. Poleyns connect to the bottom of the cuisses and cover Jalan’s knees. His greaves, formed metal plates that cover his lower legs, connect to the poleyns. Together the cuisses, poleyns and greaves cover the front and part of the outer side of Jalan’s legs. The unarmored area of his legs is less exposed when he is riding.
His shoulders are protected by spaulders made from metal strips riveted in a way that allows them to flex with his movement. The upper end of the spaulders attaches to the shoulders of his cuirass. The lower end has a strap that buckles around Jalan’s biceps. On his hands, Jalan wears leather archer’s gauntlets that he puts on like gloves, and then buckles tightly around his forearms. The leather over his forearms is thicker, while the attached gloves are thinner and more subtle to allow him to easily nock and release arrows. He wears a light open faced helm like the other lancers in his company which allows them all a wide field of vision, something archers need.
Moving up and down the line of wagons, Jalan wishes he could see everything at once. The terrain moves slowly past and the wind blows out of the northeast. It cuts across the road and carries the dust away from the caravan making the journey both cooler and more pleasant. As Jalan watches the dust fly he notices a mounted lancer on a hilltop to the south. The lancer rides down the back side of the hill. Jalan wonders if the scout has seen anything. Judging from the position of the sun it is about time for the morning scouts to return and report.
“Captain,” calls out Sergeant Sedic as he rides down the side of the road toward Jalan. “The scouts are back and ready to report.”
“Coming,” calls Jalan as he turns Axe toward the front of the procession and with little more than a thought has him trotting forward.
Sedic wheels his mount and leads the way past several wagons to where the four scouts ride slowly keeping pace just ahead of the first wagon in line and behind the lead lancers.
“Scouts, report!” says the sergeant just as Jalan moves up beside them.
Miltrip responds, “Sergeant, we ranged out at least a half league on either side of the road. The farm lanes and activity along them looked normal. No sign of outsiders or hostile forces. No gathering of men of any sort.”
“Did you
see any other lancers? I noticed a rider to our south a few minutes ago.” says Jalan.
Another scout speaks up, a new recruit Jalan thinks is named Hamel, “I saw a lancer I thought was Glen south of the road, but by the time I made my way to where I caught a glimpse of him he had moved on.”
“Where abouts?” says another scout.
“Near that copse of trees a bit north of Kenta. The one with the creek that feeds into Sweetwater.”
“I wasn’t over that way,” replies the scout that must be Glen. “Didn’t leave the road until I’d fallen back a good quarter league and then I swept close on our back trail. Never went far enough south or west to see those woods.”
Major Erida has spent considerable time teaching Jalan tactics based on battles from the two Chalmar Wars. Master Enmar has continued instructing him, but with a more general set of principles. Ideas from both drift through his thoughts. War is about deception. What does the enemy want him to believe? The lone lancer roaming through the hills south of the road bothers Jalan. Where is he based? It is possible one of his own lancers has wandered off, but no one has reported that and only the scouts have duty out of sight of the wagons.
“I want to find that lancer. Something does not add up. We should be the only lancers in this area. If he is one of our men, then why has he not announced himself?”
“The afternoon scouts are ready for their orders. We could have them search,” says Sedic.
“Let’s send two additional men south to look for this mystery lancer,” says Jalan.
“Miltrip, tell Reest to pick two more men from the 10 new lancers assigned to us. He’s to pair them with two of his other men and have the pairs scout as two teams along the south side of the road. Their priority is to find the lancer both Ninus and Captain Jalan saw and bring the man back to the caravan to answer a few questions.”
“Aye, sergeant,” says Miltrip before riding over to Reest’s group that has formed up a short distance away.
“Sergeant, this ground is fairly open and we have good visibility, but I can’t help feeling exposed. The wagons are strung out along the road further than I like. Is there a way to have them move in a tighter procession?”
“I know of a way, captain,” volunteers Glen.
“Let’s hear it,” says Jalan.
“It’s an old way to have a group move as fast as possible. It also helps keep down gaps in a line. You put the slowest up front. No one is slower than the slowest wagon so no one falls behind. And everyone can maintain the slowest pace so nobody falls farther behind the wagon ahead of them.”
Jalan purses his lips in thought. “What do you think, sergeant?”
Sergeant Sedic shrugs as he shifts in his saddle. “Never going to move faster than the slowest wagon anyway. Not sure what we get by having it in front, but it can’t slow us down any. We could give it a try.”
“I think we’ve had to wait on one of the merchants more than once today. Let’s put them at the front,” says Jalan.
“Yes, captain,” says Sedic.
After some trial and error, the merchant with the slowest wagon leads the caravan followed by two more wagons that appear to move nearly as slowly. It is well into the afternoon before the result of rearranging the wagons become apparent. But, Glen’s suggestion seems to make a difference. The wagons all move along at a fairly regular pace and the distance between wagons is even. The entire caravan now takes up perhaps a quarter mile. Jalan considers that distance much easier to watch over and defend.
Chapter XV
There are times when the road is empty and other times when a farmer’s cart or wagon must pull over to the side of the road in order to let the caravan pass. The people waiting watch the procession of lancers and merchants pass by them and often smile or wave when they see Jalan. But as the day wears away toward evening, the occasional fellow traveler tends to be on foot rather than in a wagon or on horseback. They keep their eyes lowered and do not meet Jalan’s gaze. Several of them are carrying bundles and walking with children and old folks. Jalan is starting to get a bad feeling about the condition of the people the caravan passes.
Sergeant Sedic rides up beside him and says, “Sir, we’re starting to encounter a number of refugees along the road. Perhaps you would like to have us stop for the night while enough daylight remains to select a good spot? It would also give us time to erect some temporary defenses.”
Now it makes sense to Jalan. The people carrying bundles, pushing handcarts, walking along with children or elderly are fleeing something. They are refugees. “What has happened to these people?” he says.
“I can’t say exactly, but fighting has pushed them out of their homes and off their lands. The scouts will return soon and may know more. Some of the men are from this area and have had a little luck getting answers from the people along the roadside. But, mostly they are scared and do not wish to talk to us.”
“What story do they tell?”
“They say hamlets and farms to the south have been burned. People have been killed. They are fleeing the fighting, hoping to save their lives and whatever they can carry.”
“Where are they going?” says Jalan.
“Anywhere they can, sir.” Sedic has a look on his face Jalan knows well. It is the same look Sedic gave him the first time he showed Jalan how to throw a knife. How to hold the blade, how to stand, how to whip his arm forward and follow through. That looks says, “This is how it’s done. Until you understand this, there is nothing more I can teach you.”
Jalan looks about for a moment. Seeing a rise that plateaus in a patch of higher ground, he points toward it and says, “Let’s camp on that rise. It’s on the north side of the road and should give us a good view of it.”
Sergeant Sedic calls out, “Wagons halt!” The command is echoed along the line of vehicles. They come to a stop more or less at the same time along with those walking and riding beside, in front and behind. The extra mounts are on stringers tied to wagons. The horses pull at their leads. A few dig at the dirt of the road with their hooves.
Sedic and Jalan ride to the front of the caravan and direct two of the lancers in the lead to scout the ground between the road and the plateau to determine the best route for the heavy wagons. As those two move off on their task, the first rider of the afternoon scouts returns.
“Report!” orders Sedic as Palst, one of the new recruits, rides up the road toward Sedic and Jalan.
“Sergeant, captain,” says Palst as he draws near, “I travelled west along the road and ranged north of it as ordered. I saw signs of people and horses heading north. Not large groups, maybe six to a dozen together at most. There were also ruts left by the passage of wagons.”
“How many wagons, lancer?” says Sedic.
“Can’t say for certain. They traveled in a line. Definitely more than one, but not likely to be more than half a dozen.”
“How long ago would you say they passed by?”
“The tracks were made in damp ground. There hasn’t been any rain as we’ve traveled along this last day and I’ve seen none ahead of us. I would have to guess at least two days if not more,” says Palst.
“How far ahead are these wagon tracks?” says Jalan.
“Maybe an hour’s easy ride, captain.”
“What are you thinking, captain?” says Sedic.
“Not sure yet. Let’s get the reports from the other scouts and set up camp. Then we’ll call a meeting of the Fist Leaders.”
“Yes, sir,” says Sedic.
The only other scouts to see anything are Lancers Reest and Brax. In their sweep south of the road they spotted a lancer in the distance and pursued him. He got away, but Reest and Brax found a campsite where at least five men had stayed. The fire pit had banked coals in it and there were a few things left scattered around that gave the appearance of the site being abandoned recently and quickly. There had been so much activity that it was not possible for the two lancers to determine which trail was made when the site was
abandoned. When further questioned, the scouts report that there could have been more men based there within the last week. There were signs of a picket line for horses and depressions that could have been made by wagon wheels. Although it is clear that other tracks crisscrossed the wheel marks, Reest feels strongly that the wagons only left in the last couple of days.
The sun is level with the horizon by the time the caravan sets up camp on the raised plateau. Everyone shapes spikes from large sticks, small branches and saplings. The spikes are then planted in the ground and set at an angle with their points outward to form a barrier. Although a man could slip between the spikes, a horse would find it very difficult and an armored rider would be unwilling to attempt a treacherous jump over the bristling barrier. Jalan and Sedic inspect the spike barrier and find it to be adequate. There is little more they can do beyond lighting watch fires and posting sentries.
Jalan stifles a yawn and says to Sedic, “Send the Fist Leaders to my tent. We need to discuss our plans for tomorrow.”
“Sir,” says Sedic as an acknowledgement and he moves off toward the double row of the lancers’ canvas tents.
“Tell them they can finish eating first,” calls Jalan as an afterthought. Now that the camp seems settled he feels his own fatigue and hunger push past his other worries. He goes to the cook fires and gets a hot bowl of stew and a mug of watered ale that he carries back to his command tent.
Δ
It is not a large tent, but compared to a standard lancer’s tent it is spacious. Jalan has one large room with a small folding table and chair. The ceiling is tall enough that he can stand up. His camp box sits against one canvas wall. There is a canvas barrier that separates his small sleeping area from the rest of the tent.
Captain Jalan sits at his table and blows on large spoonfuls of stew until they are cool enough to wolf down. In between mouthfuls he takes small swallows of the bitter ale. He just finishes the last of his mug when Sergeant Sedic steps through the opening created by the tied back tent flap.