by Kal Spriggs
“The old man's right,” Gerlin said. “They've another hundred men or so in positions along the south, poised to ambush us as we retreat.”
“What about going east or west?” Arren asked. “They have flanking patrols, but are they able to support one another?”
Bulmor nodded, “My thought as well, they must have mobilized a small army for this search. Their flanking patrols must be well ahead of the main group. If we can hit one, we can smash any immediate pursuit and push out to safety.”
“With the Debica River to the east, our best chance at escaping this trap is to the west,” Arren said. “We can move into the mountains, find a defensible position and continue to build our forces.”
Katarina nodded slowly, “Yes... I just wish we had more time.” She looked out at the clearing which had filled with another dozen recruits in just the past couple days. “Both for training, and to insure the enemy hasn't slipped a spy in our midst.” She thought immediately of Yarris Ingolsby, who had left yet again earlier that morning. Had he betrayed them?
“No help for that,” Arren said. “But I doubt his men have such in mind. I suspect that if Hector intended to use a spy or turncoat, they wouldn't have set up such a trap, they'd just move in on our camp early one morning.”
Bulmor nodded slowly, “I agree. Hectors mercenaries are essential to maintain order in the towns. Their commander, Covle Darkbit, will have stripped several garrisons to put this many troops in the woods. They can't afford that kind of effort when it isn't necessary, it will give the locals and the nobility exactly the wrong ideas at exactly the wrong time.”
Katarina nodded slowly, yet she couldn't put into words the uneasy feeling she had towards the possibility of betrayal. Even so, she decided to put that idea to the side, “Very well, we will need to move quickly. Arren, you and Jasen can get the troops packing. Gerlin, I know you're exhausted, but we need to identify a weak point in the flank riders so we can make our breakout.” She closed her eyes and she wished she didn't have to say what came next, “Bulmor, this would work best with a distraction.”
“A distraction?” Bulmor rumbled. He frowned, yet she recognized his thoughtful frown versus his unease at leaving her side. “Yes, if we had a small force hit one of their northern patrols... They'll need to have horses ready, with spare mounts so that they can stay ahead of pursuit.”
Katarina nodded slowly and her heart twisted as she contemplated the risk that Bulmor and those he took would face. But it seemed the best chance that the rest would escape this trap.
“What do you need me to do, my Lady?” Aerion asked.
For a moment, Katarina met his single eyed gaze, and she forgot her words. The concern and calm determination in his face struck her like a blow. This serious and intense boy belonged safe in some village. The last place I want him is running through the woods with mercenaries chasing him, she thought. His eager attitude reminded her once again of Jarek from her childhood... her only friend.
“You come with me, boy,” Bulmor said. “I can use another good fighter in the distraction force.” Katarina saw his face light up at the compliment and she had to look away or burst into tears. It's like the feeling I had after I thought I'd cracked his head, she thought. Yet she bit her tongue rather than say anything. The last thing she could afford, she knew, would be to allow her emotions to control her.
***
Lord Admiral Christoffer Tarken
The Ubelfurst, the Boir Sea
Twenty-Fifth of Eoban, Cycle 999 Post Sundering
“Admiral, Captain Elias would like a moment of your time, in private,” Nikolas said. “He said it involved ship's business.”
Christoffer sighed, and looked over at Siara Pall. In the past two days she had helped him to tremendously lighten his work load and he had discovered her handwriting far superior to his own. The fact that her hands delicately left no blots or scratch outs on reports made him that much more grateful to dictate his information to her.
The restoration of communications with the Admiralty had resulted in a surge of reports they wanted answers for. Many involved performance of the ship, in particular the newest war constructs such as the boarding golems and the heavy casters. Most of the reports could be sent by signifier, but many of them went into dispatches that would be delivered when the blockade and siege was lifted, whenever that took place.
They had just finished the latest round of reports due to be sent by the signifier. The interruption came so suddenly that Christoffer felt a spike of irritation. That in turn made Christoffer realize he had actually enjoyed the afternoon reports. Siara's questions, often ignorant of the military details, but always thoughtful, had made Christoffer rethink many of his standard assumptions... and brought to mind several potential improvements .
Ship's business, however, had precedent, “Miss Siara, thank you for your help. I'm certain that your services will be welcomed back in the sick berths again.” Christoffer bit back a smile at that, for the ship's doctor had told him of the rapid improvement of many of the injured.
“Of course, my Lord,” Siara said. She closed her notebook and placed the ink pen and ink in the desk drawer, then stepped out. A moment later, Captain Elias followed Nikolas, “Sir.” He seemed momentarily at a loss for words.
“Well, what is it?” Christoffer asked, surprised when the Captain didn't continue.
“We've had a discipline issue, sir, and I wanted to brief you on it,” Captain Elias seemed oddly hesitant. “As you know, Lieutenant Gunnar asked to transfer Midshipman Schultz aboard the Ubelfurst... due to disciplinary issues. I agreed, as I felt a more senior officer would keep him in better check.”
“Yes?” Christoffer asked. It seldom benefited a midshipman to have any infractions brought to the attention of an Admiral. Many officers sheltered their midshipmen from official attention, to allow them the opportunity to make mistakes and learn from them. That Captain Elias had done the opposite showed either frustration or, more likely, that Midshipman Schultz had crossed a line.
“This morning, Midshipman Schultz went to Lieutenant Jonas and reported that he was assaulted by one of the female enlisted who I swore in several days ago.”
“I hadn't realized they'd given the oath yet,” Admiral Christoffer said. He felt his heart sink a bit to hear that one of the Armen women had already faced a discipline problem. “Did Master of Arms VonSchill conduct an investigation?”
“He did, my Lord.” Captain Elias said. “Upon full investigation, it appears that early this morning Midshipman Schultz cornered Doctor's Assistant Siara Pall in the sick berth supply room. Several witnesses saw him slip in behind her and one of the other attendants heard the door secured from the inside.”
Christoffer felt his jaw clench, and his eyes narrowed in sudden anger. Before he could speak, Captain Elias continued.
“What Midshipman Schultz did after this point is uncertain. He claims that he had come to ask her for information regarding discrepancies in her duties and she assaulted him. Doctor's Assistant Siara Pall says that he attempted to pin her against the bulkhead and,” Captain Elias cleared his throat, “remove portions of her clothing.”
“I see,” Admiral Christoffer said and the calmness of his voice surprised him. “What happened then?”
“It seems that Doctor's Assistant Pall then assaulted Midshipman Schultz. Precise actions are uncertain, however the Ship's Doctor has stated for the record that Midshipman Schultz has a gouged eye, broken nose, dislocated thumb, a minor concussion, and a bruised left testicle,” Captain Elias said gravely.
“And Miss... that is Doctor's Assistant Pall?” Christoffer asked.
“After a thorough inspection by the ship's doctor, she has a slight bruise on her right elbow from a solid impact with something hard, possibly Midshipman Schultz's head,” Captain Elias said.
“I see,” In the privacy of the office, Christoffer allowed himself a small smile of amusement. But his expression became solemn as he thought through th
e repercussions, “What is your official determination as Captain?”
“The official investigation can not rule as to Midshipman Schultz's actions in the supply closet,” Captain Elias said. “However, evidence of Midshipman Schultz's injuries is quite obvious. In the requirement of good order and discipline, I ruled that Doctor's Assistant Pall receive seven lashes and be fined one month's pay.”
Christoffer swallowed. “I understand.” He did, but his mouth tasted like ashes at the thought of it. Siara Pall's contributions in only the past few days had shown her to be a valuable member of the crew. That her hard work would be rewarded with such a punishment made the Admiral extremely unhappy.
And yet... in the requirement of good order and discipline, as Captain Elias had said, the punishment must take place. Officers and enlisted often had disagreements, but there could never be any question over the proper means to settle such issues. Any enlisted man or woman, who for any reason, struck an officer, must pay the price. Captain Elias's ruling was actually the lightest punishment that he could give for the attack. Indeed, aboard ship, assault on an officer in the course of his duties could easily be judged mutiny and punished by death.
If others had seen Midshipman Schultz attempted rape, and there was no question of the attempt, not in anyone's mind, whatever the official record said, then it would be a matter of self-defense. Indeed, had Schultz been successful, and had the Master of Arms found sufficient proof, then Captain Elias could have hung him.
A sick part of Christoffer wished very much that the little shit faced a hanging. But the circumstances, the official record, required they act not on supposition and implication, but on the official facts of the case. In truth, the Captain's punishment fell on the lenient side of what the official regulations suggested, but that remained his prerogative under his authority as Captain. “Very well, Captain. When will the punishment take place?”
“This evening, Admiral. Doctor's Assistant Pall was informed of my decision just after lunch, and has agreed to continue her duties until then,” Captain Elias said.
“I see,” the Admiral moved around his desk and took a seat. “She had not informed me of any of this.”
“I wondered, sir, since you seemed so surprised,” Captain Elias said.
“I can't say that she strikes me as the type to ask for favors,” Christoffer said. He shook his head, “Though I am surprised at how she did her duties without a word of it and without any kind of bitterness.”
“When I told her of my decision, she accepted it without complaint,” Captain Elias said. “Unlike that little shit who tried to rape her. He insisted, insisted, that she face the rope for attempted murder of a superior officer.” Christoffer saw Elias's normally calm face turn red with anger. “As if she didn't know exactly what she was doing. She told the Master of Arms during her interview that the little bastard was sobbing, begging her not to kill him.”
“Unsubstantiated, of course,” Christoffer said. He forced himself to retain a calm appearance. “He planned that part well enough.”
“Unfortunately so. And he had documented some 'discrepancies' of which he sought to question her about, so he covered himself well. But while we can't hang him for rape or court martial him for attempted rape, I can make very certain his career is over.”
Christoffer felt a sudden pang of guilt, that what he and Captain Elias discussed would end an officer's career without the benefit of a court of his peers. He squashed that with the knowledge of what that officer had used his position for. “And I might have some say in that as well,” Christoffer said.
Captain Elias nodded, “I find it very likely that Midshipman Schultz will not find a berth upon our return to Boirton. And for that matter, if I could find some way to discharge him at our next port, I would do so.”
“Thank you, Elias. I appreciate you telling me in person,” Christoffer said. He looked down at the papers and reports on his desk. “Now I think that I should finish off my work here.”
After Captain Elias stepped out, Christoffer settled back to his reports. He tried not to think of how empty the room seemed without Siara Pall.
***
Captain Elias Wachter
Captain Elias stood at attention as the crew of the Ubelfurst assembled. The ship's bosun called the crew to attention. On the weather deck, Siara Pall stood at parade rest, her patchwork sailor's clothing oversized, yet clean and neat. Master of Arms VonSchill stood next to her, officially her guard, though she showed no sign that she needed one.
Captain Elias had ordered his officers to assemble on the deck to face her, while the rest of the crew formed the two sides of a square. The ship's Marines formed the rear of the box, arrayed behind the Master of Arms. Midshipman Schultz stood bracketed by Lieutenant Jonas and Midshipman Dunnis at the center, where he had no choice but to stare forward at his accused attacker.
By circumstance, no doubt, Captain Elias thought dryly.
Captain Elias pitched his voice to carry to the entire crew. “Doctor's Assistant Siara Pall stands accused of assault on a superior officer. After an official investigation, the Master of Arms has determined the facts, that Doctor's Assistant Pall did indeed attack Midshipman Schultz. That she did so, knowing that it was an offense. For violation of Article Seven and to enforce good order and discipline, by my Authority as Captain of the Ubelfurst, I hereby order Doctor's Assistant Pall shall receive seven lashes and be fined one month's pay.” Captain Elias looked over the assembled crew for a moment. He saw anger there, directed not at him, but at the requirement of the rules. He took a deep breath, “Master of Arms, carry out the sentence.”
At the Master of Arm's command, Siara Pall stepped forward and raised her arms over her head. A Marine assisted the Master of Arms to lock the manacles to the mast, and around her thin wrists. The same Marine then lifted the back of her shirt over her shoulders and held it there, while the master of arms retrieved the lash.
Captain Elias heard some mutters from the crew at her back, and heard the Admiral let out a hiss of surprise behind him. Elias had to swallow to maintain his official expression himself when he saw the scars already on her back. The layers and the savage patterns suggested that she had received far worse punishments than a lash.
The Master of Arms looked up, his face in his own official mask, but Captain Elias saw the other man's discomfort despite that. A part of him cried out against the injustice... but Elias had served as an officer for over three decades. He knew that the military required strict adherence to the law, even when adherence meant injustice.
Elias gave a single nod and the Master of Arms drew his arm back.
Elias's eyes went to Siara Pall's face and as the lash cracked across her back, he saw her eyes remained locked forward. If she flinched in the slightest, he didn't see it.
Midshipman Schultz, on the other hand, stared at her with a sort of paralyzed horror. Captain Elias could hear his heavy breathing, even from across the deck and even over the crack of the second lash stroke.
The crew settled and they stood braced at attention, their bearing impeccable... except that their gazes had focused on Midshipman Schultz.
Captain Elias listened as the Master of Arms counted out the lashes. On the seventh, he coiled his bloodied lash and immediately assisted as the Marine removed the shackles. Siara Pall sagged a bit against him, but his duty done, he supported her while the ship's doctor came forward to treat her.
“Bosun, you may dismiss the crew,” Captain Elias said.
***
Chapter Ten
Lord Jonal Ingail
The Lonely Isle, Duchy of Masov
Twenty-Eighth of Eoban, cycle 999 Post Sundering
Jonal sighed as he looked around the crowded bar tent. It seemed like most of Lord Hector's mercenaries had forced their way into the tent. Worse, from the looks of things, they'd already drank their way through the good spirits.
He had just finished his patrol for the day and the last thing he wanted to d
o was spend more time with mercenaries drinking cheap wine. Jonal wanted something crisp and light and a hot meal, followed a solid night's sleep, preferably in a comfortable bed. It looked like he would have to settle for whatever stew they had back in camp and his pallet. Days like this, he almost wondered why he'd followed Kerrel on her crusade.
“Eh, there, boy, careful you might find more than you're looking for,” a harsh, accented voice said from nearby.
Jonal turned, “What?” The speaker was one of the Vendakar mercenaries, his caramel colored face lean and covered in scars.
The Vendakar mercenary gave him an evil grin, “You look young, are you a pleasure boy here to earn coin or a boy seeking to make himself a man?”
Jonal's hand dropped to the hilt of his sword, “Watch your tongue. I'm...” Jonal broke off, as he remembered that Kerrel fought under a commoner's name and rank, just as she had encouraged him to do so. It seems silly, he thought, others have as much as said they know we are both of us nobly-born, but that's the rules of her company. “I'm Jonal, Captain Flamehair's lieutenant. Keep a civil tongue in your head or lose it.”
The other man chuckled and looked at his companions. Jonal saw that they were all Vendakar and, from the colors they wore, all of the same House, though he didn't recognize the maroon and green colors. “We mean you no offense, young prince. Come, drink with us. Your Captain fought well and our shares of loot came from your service in taking the camp intact.”
Jonal tried to hide his distaste. He didn't like the Vendakar, didn't trust them, and he didn't really want company. “I must be going, thank you for the offer...”
“Come, just the one drink,” the Vendakar mercenary leaned forward, “I've a bottle of wine from home, just brought in by the last supply caravan from the Lonely Keep. You won't find finer vintage, in these parts.”
Jonal hesitated. On the one hand, he didn't want to give them offense. The offer seemed sincere enough and the Vendakar might take it in their minds to be offended if he refused. On the other... Kerrel had warned him about them, how they were not to be trusted. Still, he thought, she also told me to keep an eye on them and it's not like a single drink will be an issue... and Vendakar wine is supposed to be good.