by Sigrid Kraft
“A cripple? My Prince, we’re talking about the Black Guard. Your elite company. But if you insist on sending him there, then, please, at least let him see a healer first.” What’s the point of all this? Is he out of his wits? An invalid in the Guard. Please reconsider your command.
“Lord Boron, in the face of Eryn’s rebellious behavior, I consider it a good thing that he first learn humility and modesty. Being crippled can be very helpful here. It will teach him better than any man to acquire those virtues. That is why I command that no one shall heal him. Once his knowledge has advanced far enough, he can heal himself. Certainly it will take him some years before he is up to the task – even though his talent in healing magic is formidable. But for now, I want him to be without his hand. I say this most emphatically: No mage shall heal him. Pass these words on to Master Lionas. He will be the lad’s teacher in his magical education. Master Lionas seems to be on good terms with this ne’er-do-well. Sir Draken will be responsible for the military education.”
Those were clear orders which left no room for discussion. After a brief pause Prince Raiden added: “You know, Lord Boron, the real reason is that, once in my life, I want a mage in the Guard who can salute properly.” A feeble joke and Lord Boron sighed:
If it is just about that... “As you command, my Prince.” And in his best military manner, the commander clicked his heels. If it’s sharp military behavior you need to improve your mood, then I can also be of help.
“You are dismissed, commander.”
“My Prince!” Your suffering is is now my suffering.
Lord Boron took his leave and went back the way he had come before. I know the lad can’t bear to be in your presence, but you also can’t bear seeing him. He reminds you too much of your own fate. So you send him to my Guard. Where would the world be without a steady supply of new challenges?
The motto let-us-spoil-the-day-for-the-others was passed down the entire command structure. Lord Boron presented the wishes of Prince Raiden to Sir Draken, who, after gathering some information as to which subdivision still had capacities, assigned Eryn to one of the troops. It fell to Sir Galden, a model of a soldier.
Sir Galden is the last one to deserve this. Having to deal with a new recruit – and such a difficult case, to boot. On the other hand, he is the best man for the job.
So he summoned Sir Galden and explained the problem. Sir Galden did not move a muscle.
As I just said... the best man for the job, Sir Draken thought as soon as Galden was on his way to take care of everything.
Returning from his walk with Master Lionas, Eryn entered his chamber, only to find himself being contacted by the Prince. Prince Raiden made no effort to come himself. Instead, his voice filled the room. Or was it just in Eryn’s head? The young man couldn’t tell. He was merely scared witless and brought anew to the brink of madness. The Prince didn’t waste any time with empty conversation but gave Eryn very clear orders:
”You will join the Black Guard and do your service dutifully there. Don’t injure yourself. Obey and study. Don’t try to run away. And always keep in mind: I’ll have an eye on you.”
Ever since the soulban lay upon Eryn, these words were as good as any strong spell. Eryn was still shaking when a soldier came in and asked him to follow him.
They left the citadel behind, this time taking the road straight to the east. They soon arrived at a village, and Eryn looked around with interest as they walked by the houses. There were a lot of craftsmen who provided services for the military: a tailor’s, a blacksmith’s and a saddlery. The scent of freshly baked bread filled the air, causing his stomach to grumble hungrily. Behind a butcher’s shop, Eryn could already make out the stockade of the garrison some distance ahead of them. With the patience of a donkey, he trotted along behind the soldier.
I don’t care what awaits me. Just as long as I get as far away as possible from that monster Prince.
With the soulban, his tormentor had completely driven out all thoughts of escape, fight or hero’s death, and blocked new thoughts from arising. Eryn’s self-confidence had been dealt a severe blow and even the appreciative Master Lionas was only able to restore a little of it.
At the stockade gate, the guards saluted as they went by. My guide is obviously of a higher rank than the simple soldiers.
Inside the stockade wall lay various buildings. Some were built of stone, but most were wooden barracks lined up at regular intervals. They turned down one of the rows and entered the barracks there.
In the anteroom, several shields and spears were lined up primly on one side. Cupboards and shelves stood against the other walls, and at the center of the room was a rough timbered table complete with wooden chairs. Opposite the entrance, there were two doors to the left and the right, and a corridor with another door at the end of it led deeper into the building.
The soldier stopped at the first door on the left, pushed it open and stepped through the doorway. Inside the room, two men wearing only half their armor were sitting together playing a game of cards. Now they leapt to attention. Eryn’s guide returned the salute quickly and then announced:
“Recruits! Here’s a new one for you. Recruit Deren, you’ll show him around. Get him to Master Gorsch for the equipment and introduce him to the basic rules of the military. In return, you are released from all other exercises for today.”
“Yes, Sir Galden!” replied the man briskly.
He was of average height, but had broad shoulders and well-toned muscles. His close-cropped hair seemed to be of a brownish color, and although he was not particularly old, he already had a receding hairline. A short beard shaved artfully on both sides and big brown eyes gave him an impish look.
The second man in the room was taller and slender, with long, curly dark hair framing an oval face.
Sir Galden turned to Eryn: “Here is your accommodation. Your mates will show you everything else you need to know. Understood?”
“Yes, milord,” Eryn replied.
Sir Galden wrinkled his nose slightly, but then turned around without a word and left. The two recruits in the room relaxed as soon he was gone.
“Hello, welcome. I’m Deren and that’s Farat.” Deren held out his hand, but when he noticed Eryn’s stump he quickly withdrew.
“Oh, how did you make it into the Guard with that?”
It hurt Eryn to be reminded of his mutilation. “It wasn’t my choice,” he snarled back, more violently than he intended to.
“Well, it’s none of my business,” Deren admitted, making the young Fenn felt bad about his harsh behavior. He tried to make a new start by introducing himself.
“I’m Eryn. Actually I’m here to learn the art of magic.” Again, Eryn was met with startled faces.
Farat found his voice first. “So why are you here, then? Shouldn’t you be in Sir Heimes’ Company? We’re the Bastards Company, a fighting troop. Sword, spear, bow and other weapons but definitely not messing around with magic. We’re the unmagical ones.”
It was difficult for Eryn to talk about the circumstances that had brought him here. “It wasn’t my choice. The Prince commanded it.”
“You have seen the Prince?” Disbelief and admiration resonated in Deren’s voice.
“More than I would have liked. But it’s not my favorite subject. Can we talk about something else? What happens next?”
Puzzled, Deren shook his head. “You’re an odd fish. For us it is a great honor to be accepted into the Guard. We’re only here because we are damn good. That’s the way it is if you don’t have noble parents. You seldom get a chance. Are you a noble brat, then?”
Eryn chuckled despite himself: “Certainly not. I come from the mountains. I was a clan warrior of the Fenn.”
“Doesn’t mean anything to me,” Farat growled.
Why should these men know anything about my home and my old life in the mountains? I know just as little about the life of the Lowlanders.
Deren interrupted his thoughts: “Best I s
how you around first and then we’ll fetch your equipment. By the way, the man who brought you here was our troop leader, Sir Galden. And very nice of him it was to release me from my duties. Just a bit of a shame that I’ve already finished them all for today. But showing someone around isn’t so bad, and it’s not your fault either.”
Nice to find one person who doesn’t blame me for everything.
“So, you are a warrior. Do you know the score about the army?”
Eryn sighed: “Not with your way of doing things. We were more a loose band of warriors, reaching decisions together in council.”
“Well, things work very differently here. As a recruit you have no say.” Deren had pulled on his tunic and drawn his belt tight. “Let’s go. I can tell you the rest on the way.” The two of them headed outside.
“So if you’re asked something by a higher rank, you answer, ‘Yes, Sir’ and ‘No, Sir’. Forgetting that will get you extra duties or even a beating. I’ll explain later who else apart from Sir Galden has a say here. Right then, the best strategy is not to attract attention. At least not of the negative sort. Farat and I manage that quite well, though our third roommate, Ravenor, isn’t quite so good at it. But if one of us botches up, the whole room pays for it. And thanks to Ravenor, we’ve found ourselves in detention more often than we’d have liked. Many things are forbidden: Alcohol, women, leaving the barracks, dirty equipment, improper behavior towards a superior, such as forgetting to salute when a superior enters the room. Brawling. Missing commencement of duties...
Right now, I can’t remember all of it, but there are a lot more prohibitions. Every irregularity is punished with varying degrees of severity. And believe me, none of them are much fun.”
Great, we’re back to the punishment again. That’s a subject I’ve already experienced a lot about and I can’t say I’m keen to extend my knowledge.
Deren pointed across the yard to a lonely wooden post towering high above them.
“You see the pole there? You really don’t want to become familiar with that. It’s where the punishments are carried out. Everyone calls that place only ‘the pole’. You’d best give it a very wide berth. Over there is the canteen. The food is good enough but to be honest, back at the city guard we had much better meals. I come from the south, you know, from Arvon, the capital. That’s where the real action is.”
“Why did you leave, then?” Eryn put in.
“You know, once you’ve done service here in the Black Guard, then your fortune’s made. It doesn’t matter where you go afterwards, you’ll be paid good wages for your work. And if you come from a poor family like I do, then you won’t be given many chances in your life. I didn’t want to be a small fish in the city guard all my life. Well, here as recruit, you might not have much fun and they kick you up the backside mighty hard. But I can’t deny that there are some fine privileges too.
Although you receive no pay for the first half year, food and lodging are free. And as you’re not permitted to leave the barracks anyway, it doesn’t hurt too much if you earn nothing. Once a month, you can visit a healer free of charge. He waves away all your aches and pains, which really feels great afterwardss. In emergencies, a healer is there at once. Have you any idea how expensive that service would be otherwise? Many poor people die just because they can’t afford such a luxury.”
In Eryn’s small world, there had never been much of a difference between rich and poor, but then, they had only been a small number of clans; few people compared with the population of Ardeen.
They reached a building with a large sign on the front. The huge letters said:
EQUIPMENT AND ARMORY
“Here we are,” Deren said as he walked in. “Even the things they’re about to hand out to you now are worth a small fortune,” he whispered to Eryn.
Behind the counter stood a man in his forties. There was something coarse about him, but at the same time, he was also very friendly. Deren went straight to the counter:
“Greetings, Gorsch. Sir Galden sends us. A man to fit out.”
Gorsch nodded and rummaged in a drawer.
Deren explained quietly so only Eryn could hear his words: “Gorsch is the only one here who you can have a normal talk with. He’s a really decent fellow.”
Now the man came around his counter and approached Eryn. In one hand he was holding a measuring tape.
“Let’s see what we can find for you.”
As everybody else did, Gorsch wondered about Eryn’s missing hand. “That doesn’t look good. Have you already been to the mages? What do they say about it?”
Why does everybody have to mention it?
“I’ll be going there later. After all, I’m here to study magic.”
“In that case, I’d better give you a robe and then we’re quickly done,” Gorsch replied, but Deren disagreed:
“Sorry Gorsch, but by order of Sir Galden. Complete kit is required.”
“Fine by me,” murmured Gorsch and began taking Eryn’s measurements, scribbling down the numbers on a sheet.
When he had done this, he commented, “Well, you’re regular size. We should have it all in store.”
He started to search behind his counter again and, taking things from everywhere, placed them in a long, orderly line on the top of the counter. Underwear, tunics, breeches, boots, cloak, armor, belt and last of all, the formidable helmet with its black plume.
“Well, that’s all. Sign here.” He laid a form in front of Eryn and tapped his forefinger on a blank space.
The paper listed all the equipment and declared that the undersigned had received it. With some effort, Eryn scrawled the letters of his name with his left hand. I was much better at this with my right hand, but what else am I supposed do?
“Best get dressed now, so we can see if we need to change anything. You can leave your old stuff here. You won’t be needing it for the next few years.”
Although Deren helped Gorsch, it was a lengthy process to put on the full armor and make some alterations. Mostly, it was a case of punching new holes into the leather straps to ensure all the parts were a good fit. When they had finished, Gorsch turned round a wooden board attached to a stand to reveal a mirror as tall as a man.
“Actually that one’s for the officers. But I reckon everybody likes to see themselves spruced up.”
Eryn stood up straight as he took in his reflection. A handsome young man in uniform.
I look mighty fine. But the whole thing is damned heavy and not very comfortable.
“Well, everything is bright and shiny now, but wait till you have to clean the stuff for the first time...” Deren teased while he stuffed the remaining items into a bag. Handing out the weapons was a much faster affair. Shield, spear, knife and practice sword, and they were soon done. They waved good bye as they took their leave. Outside Eryn asked in disbelief: “And you really fight in that outfit? I can barely move.”
Deren assumed a pitying tone:
“Oh, you’ll get used to it. The first time is rough, it’s true, but it gets better slowly... once the chafing and the blisters stop bothering you. I already told you, as a recruit you don’t have much fun.
You’re at the bottom of the pile and everyone else is there to kick you into shape. Come on, let’s take your equipment back to our quarters.”
As they walked, Deren continued to point out places of importance. At the great gate were located headquarters and the main guard. Lord Boron’s quarters and those of the officers occupied an area to the left of the northern gate. Barracks for the troops and the servants were all set around the parade ground. Three latrine pits were dispersed throughout the garrison, and the stables were at the east side, close to the palisades, along with a second gate complete with watchtower, known as ‘The Great Watch’. More barracks used for storing various items were situated to the south, and near the mages’ accommodation could be found two big buildings where their studies in magic took place.
The deluge of information rained down o
n Eryn, and by the time they were back in their room, he’d forgotten half of it. But Deren hadn’t finished his introduction just yet: Which object had to be put where and how. Eryn felt as if he had heard a thousand things and asked in resignation: “How on earth did you manage to remember all of that?”
“We two, Farat and I, were in the city guard, so we practically grew up with that stuff. And we’ve been here three months now. You’ll handle it eventually. But for our roommate, Ravenor, it’s a hell of a struggle. You see, before he joined the troop, he was only a blacksmith’s apprentice.”
Right on cue, the door flew open with an almighty crash, and a young man in uniform burst in, his helmet stuck beneath his arm. His jet black hair was tied together and fell in a long ponytail down his back. An oval face with a long, fine nose made him look handsome, but his blue eyes gleamed with anger. His bad mood was also visible in his full lips, the corners of which were pulled downward.
“Who’s that?” The newcomer pointed towards Eryn.
“Fresh blood. He’s staying with us,” Deren explained on Eryn’s behalf before introducing them to each other: “Eryn, this is Ravenor. He’s not always so bad-tempered. Only if he comes back from doing some donkey work, which he’s had to do alone today – as we weren’t unlucky enough to join him.”
Farat and Deren were really all right, and being among people who were like him and of his own age made Eryn feel good. It restored normality to his life. But that obnoxious fellow Ravenor didn’t fit in well. Somehow he reminds me of someone – his manner and appearance. But Eryn couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was that made him so familiar.
Ravenor passed Eryn without paying him any attention and threw his helmet carelessly on to the bed.
“Well, fresh blood? Make yourself useful and help clean my equipment.”
“Why should I? It is your equipment!” countered Eryn, annoyed at the arrogant and unfriendly tone.
Ravenor turned around and glared at him. “Because you are the new boy and because otherwise I’ll punch you in the face.” Suddenly Ravenor noticed Eryn’s stump. “Oh, a cripple! What’s this? Is the Guard taking anybody these days?”